It was a hot spring day when Max visited Mr. Stone for a deep-tissue massage.
His small body was rife with tension, which he hoped would get alleviated. Mr.
Stone's massage parlor, and his expert touch, had a particular reputation among
local young men as the place to go when they were tight and sore. When Max
arrived he was greeted by the owner himself. Mr. Stone smiled the instant he saw
the young man, and guided him to the massage bench. The DILFy masseur was
dressed in a white tank and gray shorts that distorted around his visible
package. His silver hair was trimmed and the lines of his face were sharp with
experience and rugged vigor. Mr. Stone stepped behind Max and began massaging
the boy's shoulders. The hunky masseur had coated his hands with a warm oil,
which he rubbed firmly first into his client's backside and then worked his way
down along the spine. Max closed his eyes and let out a long-held breath as Mr.
Stone worked his fingers in circles across the muscles in his neck and shoulder
blades. The sensation was electric and the sweet smell of his sweat charged the
air. Mr. Stone could feel the tense muscles underneath his palms as they slowly
yielded to his controlled strength. When Mr. Stone reached the small white
briefs that covered Max's rump, he asked in the natural rumbling bass of his
baritone, "Would you like me to take these off? Is that alright?" These massages
often resulted in erections for the small guys like Max. Max was not immune to
the effects of Mr. Stone, a fact that both he and his masseur were immediately
aware of when Max's response was a whimpering moan that took the vague shape of
"yeah..." Mr. Stone continued to work his way lower. His hands slid under the
waistband of Max's underwear and caressed his ass cheeks. After the heavy
coating of oil, the boy's rump became quite pliable between his fingers. The
DILF worked the oil into every crevice of his client's back, then flipped him
over to reveal the erection already there. Max felt a glimmer of anticipation
run through him, uncertain how his masseur might react. But as Mr. Stone rubbed
his palms across the boy's stomach, pecs, and nipples, he also placed his
sizable package next to Max's face. Max felt the heat of the man's manhood
through the cloth, and in Max's eyes, the professional masseur morphed into a
DILF-fantasy instantly. Mr. Stone caught sight of the curl of Max's toes. The
masseur was enjoying this, and wanted more than anything to have this young
man's lips wrapped around his cock. Max clearly did too, as he kissed at the
stretching spandex near his face. The DILF stripped himself of his tank-top and
shorts; first down to a jockstrap and then down to nothing at all. Each moment a
piece of cloth was removed, Max knew more of what he wanted. The new tension
that needed release from his body was different than the one he arrived with,
but suddenly much more immediate and important. By simply grasping his strong
hands under the young man's pits, Mr. Stone lifted Max into the air. The boy's
legs wrapped around the DILF's torso for support and balance. Max was shocked
and aroused beyond measure by this demonstration of Mr. Stone's raw strength and
the size difference between them. His face flushed with excitement — he felt, at
once, cared for and lusted for, small but protected in the grip that held him in
the air. When Mr. Stone carried him like this, he didn't just carry the boy's
body; he lifted his whole spirit and squeezed it between his strong arms. The
DILF had been right about Max's need for release—the boy's erection pulsed hard
and fast against his belly, and he could feel the constant stream of precum
leaking from his tip. Now that Max was little more than horny putty in his
grips, Mr. Stone set the moaning boy back down on the bench. He spread the boy's
legs wide and prepped his quivering hole with a gob of spit, then began to test
its limits with his fingers. Mr. Stone stroked the length of his shaft until it
was wet and slick, teased the tight-yet-relenting ring of the boy's hole, then
slowly pushed in. Max's back arched off the table. The masseur's giant cock
plunged deep into him, and found a rhythm that suited both of their tastes. The
masseur moved his hips, sliding in and out of the young man's body with steady
power. Max moaned, and pressed his tongue into the corner of his mouth, trying
to quiet the wails he felt compelled to make. He loved the feeling of Mr.
Stone's thick meat filling his tight hole, pushing its way inside him. He wanted
this to last forever. Mr. Stone took Max's little body on a guided tour of sex
positions. He fucked the tiny twink on his back, on his knees, and even lifted
him back into the same embrace that melted the boy's mind earlier, thrusting
into the tiny gay bottom all the while. Each piston of Mr. Stone's thick cock
melted away the tension in his body, and heightened the pleasure that came from
having his prostate pounded. Realizing their session was soon at an end—and that
his orgasm would soon spill—Mr. Stone climbed onto the bench with Max. He folded
the boy's legs over his head and mounted him, ravaging the boy's hole with his
powerful thrusts. His ass felt full and stretched, and the sensation of Mr.
Stone's balls slapping against his cheeks sent a surge of electricity through
him, filling his vision with bursts of light. The salt-and-pepper-haired DILF
buried his head into the side of the boy's smooth neck, kissing the nape as he
shot rope after rope of semen inside the twink. As the last drops of seed left
his cock, Mr. Stone pulled out. In the afterglow of his orgasm, Mr. Stone
watched his seed spill out of Max's hole and dribble down his client's taint...
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