I love my job. I love that I’m earning enough to pay my college fees doing something I enjoy so much. Sometimes I wonder if all masseurs have similar experiences to mine. I mean, I know there are all sorts of ethical codes which they drill into you while you’re training… but, come on, if there’s a hot guy on the table and he’s getting hard, what’s wrong with a bit of extra-curricular activity?
Brandon is a hot guy. In fact, he is just my type. Late 40s, nicely tanned, great body. He turns up in shorts and a T-shirt, but you could tell he is more used to wearing a suit and tie. Those powerful city types are always highly-sexed, and, when it comes down to it, pretty passive. They spend way too much of their lives ordering people around and sometimes they just wanna lie back while someone else takes control.
I knew from the moment he walked into the room that he was very into me. I guess he likes ginger boys. His shorts were made from a silky fabric and he was already tenting by the time I gave him the spiel about leaving the room to give him some privacy while he got naked. I could have jumped him then and there, but I played the game and left him to undress.
Obviously, I had a quick look through the crack in the door as he was getting his clothes off and, sure enough, as the shorts came off, his rock hard cock sprung out of his jock. It was a nice dick. I’m sure he fucks his wife or husband with it all the time, but I instinctively knew he wanted to bottom for me. I’ve got a sixth sense for that sort of thing.