I was very late when I got to the office the day before yesterday.

I took a lot longer than usual with my morning rituals. They seemed to be taking longer almost every day. In fact, I'd been running late a lot, lately. Fortunately, my marriage had just broken up, so I had the sympathy of everyone in my office. No one there really liked my wife much to begin with. I had a built-in excuse, because everyone knew what a painful break-up it had been.

Most of the office was in a meeting that morning, so I snuck into the building and up to my floor without anyone seeing me.

Until I rounded the corner and saw Jim.

"Hey, Steve," he called. Jimmy's the kind of guy who likes to put his head into everyone's business. He's always asking me about my wife, how the two of us got along, what we did in bed--pretty pushy! "Running late again, eh?"

"I've been under a lot of pressure lately, Jim. Can't seem to focus on work. Tension."

"I know what you mean. I'm pretty sexually frustrated, too."

"No, Jim. I mean just tension, not sexual tension."

"Oh, sure. A painful break-up and all you're experiencing is sadness. Nothing sexual at all," he said, patting my shoulder and giving me a leering smile.

I nodded. I didn't know what he meant. Maybe he was coming on to me, but I couldn't tell. So I just nodded.

"It's hard to have a man's appetite and no way to satisfy it. I feel the same way, Steve. Men like us never can get enough. But, anyway, we'll be okay."

Now, of course it's no issue about Jimmy anyway, because he's married. He also knows I was married too, until very recently. Melissa and I tried to make it work, but we just couldn't do it. Our official story for everyone was that our schedules--business trips, long hours at work--kept us from having a real marriage. I doubt Jim would suspect the real nature of our problem.

I doubt he'd even know the real reason I was late this morning. I mentioned before that I got caught up in my morning activities, which was true but misleading. My morning had involved some atypical practices. Over breakfast I found myself thinking about a guy I knew in college, a wrestler who was on the varsity team with me. Once I started thinking about him, all of a sudden I started imagining us wrestling again, but this time all the wrestling holds turned into sexual positions. I couldn't believe what my mind was capable of thinking! So I got lost in fantasy and when I snapped out of it, I saw a pile of spooge on the floor and a stain on my pants. Then I had to clean up and change and I ended up leaving home a half hour late.

It's not the first time that's happened. In fact, it's been happening a lot. I'll think about some guy I used to know then, BAM!, it turns into a sexual fantasy. As I said, I'm surprised what my mind is capable of thinking!

"Yo, dude, you look tense."

"I am, Jim. I am."

"No one at home to take care you? You gotta do all the housework yourself? That could get anybody down!"

"Yeah. No, I'm fine. I've just got a lot on my mind, is all." I didn't want to lie to my friend, because he's been supportive throughout the whole break-up of my marriage. But I didn't feel any need to tell him the whole truth, either.

"Listen, Steve. You're too tense, man. You gotta relax."

"I know, Jim. I'm trying." I was, in fact. That wasn't a lie.

"You need to let go. Trust me. I know exactly what you're going through." If only he really did know! "Here, Steve. I've got just the thing," Jim said, and he pulled a business card from his wallet. "Call Alex. Your tensions will all disappear."

The card said "Alex Vershinin--Intense Bodywork." Maybe Jim was right...

"Call Alex," Jim said again.

"I don't know, Jim. I'm worried she's some fat old Russian kitchen wench with b.o. and borscht breath. I know your sense of humor." It was true; Jim loves to play practical jokes. "And what if she thinks I'm so hot she wants to have sex with me? Not all these massage folks are on the up and up."

"Trust me. It's just what the doctor ordered. Trust me, Steve. Now, get to work."

Well, I wasted no time. As soon as I got to my desk, I picked up my phone and dialed the number on the card. A woman with a thick Russian accent answered. So far, so bad. I told her I wanted and appointment with Alex.

"Alex not chhhhhhhhhere right now. You schedule massage?"

"Yes. Please."

"What time you like? Ten o'clock?"

"Today?"

"Yes, sir. Today."

"Ten p.m.?" I thought that was pretty late; I wanted to make sure.

"Okay, sir. Ten p.m." I guess she took my question as a statement. Language barrier.

"Um...okay," I said, and gave her my information. I asked where I needed to go for the appointment. Apparently Alex would only make house calls.

All day I was excited about the evening of relaxation before me. I certainly needed it. And maybe having someone pay attention to my body would relieve the sexual tension I was feeling. You know, the way a long walk or a cold shower or a good workout can ease the strain...supposedly.

After work, I went home and took a shower. I wanted to make sure I was clean before Alex got her hands all over me. I knew I had lots of time before she arrived, but I wanted to be safe, anyway.

As I soaped up my body I took a good look at it. I'm in my mid-thirties but in good shape. My dark, curly hair is graying at the temples. I have a nice patch of chest hair but none on my back. I also have a nice patch of pubic hair--thick, but not unruly--and a nice pair of hairy balls.

Actually, I'm not being fair. My balls are REALLY impressive. They're big, tangerine-sized balls which hang tight in their pouch and stay close to the base of my shaft. I guess they're so big that there's not enough skin to let them hang any lower. I remember showering off after wrestling in college and having the other guys comment on my hairy big ones. I always wondered how everyone else had anything left for ejaculations with those little peach-pit testicles, dangling in a lonely way at the bottom of a wrinkly ballsac.

I always wondered if I'd ever see anyone with a big pair like mine. I keep my eyes open at the gym--I mean, let's face it, everyone does. You don't have to be gay to take an interest in the equipment of other men. I also look at guys in tight bathing suits--which is what they want you to do, anyway, or there would be no tight bathing suit--to see what they're packing. But it's hard to tell through a bathing suit what really lies underneath.

After my shower I toweled of and went to watch TV in my bedroom. I guess I fell asleep because the next thing I remember is having a dream about another guy I once knew. This one was my pledgemaster. He lived on my hall in the frat house my sophomore year, and we shared a bathroom. I remember how he liked to prance around naked. He had a good body and a dick that hung low even when it wasn't erect. I always wondered if it got any bigger when it was hard. He also had big, big balls--one of the few guys I ever met who had a pair like mine. To be honest, his were even bigger. And he always stood in front of the mirror and shaved without a towel around his waist or a pair of boxer shorts. Hell, I didn't wear anything either. But somehow I couldn't manage to spend as much time in the buff as my pledgemaster did. It must have been the pride he took in his equipment. In fact, his nickname was Zeus, on account of the thunderbolt between his legs.

But my dream was cut short by a doorbell. Shit! The masseuse was here, and I wasn't ready! I threw my towel around my waist and went to the door. I was kind of embarrassed; it's one thing to be naked in front a bunch of guys and another to be in the altogether when a lady is present. Well, the towel would do.

"Who is it?" I asked, even though I knew already.

"Alexander," said a man's voice.

I didn't know what to do! Here I was, having an erotic fantasy about my masseuse, thinking she'd maybe have sex with me, but it turned out to be just a guy! I really didn't know what to do! So I opened the door in my towel, because who cares about nudity just among guys?

Alex came in. He was tall, and quite handsome. He was young--about 24, tops--with light hair and not much body hair. He was wearing jeans and a shirt, and he carried a folded up table in one hand and a gym bag in the other.

"Hello. You are Steve?"

I nodded.

"I am Alex. Hello. Where you want the table?"

I pointed to a spot in the living room. Alex walked where I'd pointed, set the table down and set his gym bag down next to it. Then he took off his shoes and socks. Then he took off his shirt. Then he took off his pants and underwear. I couldn't believe it. I was watching him strip! There was a fully naked man in my living room. Thank God Melissa didn't live here anymore!

Alex must have seen me staring, because he turned to look at me. I looked back and then said, "Is that how you do it, in Russia?"

"What, like these? Oh, no, I take off my clothes and put on massage clothes, in here." He opened his gym bag and pulled out a pair of sweat pants.

"Oh," I said. "Oh. I see."

"I get dressed now."

"Okay. --But I don't wear anything, right?"

"No, sir. You take off clothes and lie on table."

"Well, if I don't get to wear any clothes, I don't think you should be allowed to, either."

"You want me stay like thees? In nude?"

"That's okay. I was just kidding."

"No. Is fine." He zipped his gym bag and put it away. I watched him as he assembled his massage table. His lean, muscular body was smooth and olive. He had a firm, round ass and a pair of broad shoulders. And swinging between his legs was a long, slender piece of meat tapering to a pointy foreskin. And the two back-up singers were the biggest balls I've ever seen. Bigger than the pledgemater's!

I continued to watch him. In profile, his cock and balls swung back and forth as he made up the massage table. And from behind, I could see them dangling with barely enough room between his legs. Needless to say, I felt a swelling between my own legs. I was pitching one hell of a tent beneath my terry cloth towel. Well, what the hell. I dropped my towel, too. It was only fair, since I'd insisted we both be in the buff.

My cock sprang to attention, sticking out at an angle from my belly. My cock curves slightly upward. It's fat, with a pink head. And on this particular night it was leaking pre-cum. The pre-cum was probably too much for Alex to see, so I put the towel in front of my crotch to hide it. Just in time, too, because Alex turned around, having finished the set-up.

"Sir, you please get on table."

I climbed on the table, face-forward, and pulled my towel from out from under me. I dropped it on the floor and placed my head in the face cradle.

"Sir, you shoulders sore?"

I nodded. At this point I couldn't even talk. All I could do was to stay on my stomach with my fat, swollen cock rubbing against my belly. The pressure felt good on my throbbing head. I could feel my cockhead moistening with more pre-cum. It was sticky and wet on my belly button.

Alex, meanwhile, was rubbing my body with his hands. He was standing to one side of me and rubbing my back up and down with his oiled hands. The motion of his hands on my muscles made my body move with his strokes. I thought I felt his dick touch against my ribs a couple times, but I wasn't sure. Then, he moved to stand by my head while he worked on my neck. I could see his legs through the space in the head cradle. They were ripped and muscular. As he rubbed with his back-and-forth motion, I could hear a rhythmic tapping sound. I kept listening and tried to figure out what it was. Finally, I realized it was his dick smacking gently against the side of the massage table. That piece of penile flesh was making its presence known! I strained my neck as far as I could and thought I caught a glimpse of it. It seemed to be stiffening faintly. But I couldn't be sure.

My hard-on got stiffer and stiffer. And my cockhead got wetter and stickier. Alex soon moved down to the other end of the massage table, by my feet. He rubbed my feet like an expert, tenderly stroking each one between both of his hands. The smooth feel of the oil between his skin and mine was almost unbearably sexy. I accidentally let out a moan.

"Sir, I am hurting you?"

"No. I'm fine, Alex. Fine......"

"Is good?"

"Yes. Is good." I felt like a cat in heat. I wanted to moan and buck under the touch of his firm, strong grasp. I wanted him to caress every inch of my body and then--

Wait, what was I thinking? Was I really thinking again about having sex with a guy? And was the fantasy about to come true this time? I thought maybe his practices were a bit unusual for massage work, but I couldn't be sure. I guess I knew the moment of truth would come when I flipped over on my back to let him work my front. That maneuver would reveal my swollen joint, and he'd either freak out or get back to work.

After he worked my feet, he took each leg and stretched it upward toward my buttocks. My pelvis lifted up each time because of the leverage of my lifted leg. My penis was fully exposed from the rearview. There was no way he could miss my obvious arousal.

After the leg stretches, Alex hopped on the table to straddle my body and work my lower back. As he moved back and forth, he tapped the small of my back with a couple of his fingers. I liked the way that felt, the rhythmic tapping, in rhythm with his rubbing.

But, wait: both of his hands were already on my back! That's when I realized the taps were the tip of his dick, now erect. But I couldn't be sure. He hopped off the table and said "One moment, sir." I heard a couple of snaps, like rubber bands, and then Alex was back at the table. And now he went to work on my butt.

First he rubbed the upper parts of my legs, letting his strokes end at the bottom of my buttocks. His fingers curled gently at the end of his open palm. It felt great to have someone stroke my ass that way. And the oil felt nice, too. Then he took one ass cheek in each hand and moved the muscle in a circle, another move which bounced me back and forth on the table. My ass was on fire! I'd never felt anything like this before. My butthole started tingling and twitching. I felt an excellent throbbing just past my asshole, halfway to my big, hairy balls.

I'd never felt anything back there before, except maybe one or twice when I'd stuck my finger up my ass while beating off. There's a soft part inside my asshole that feels good when I stroke it. Now I could feel that part coming alive, and it wasn't even being touched. I never knew I could feel so much pleasure inside my butt!

Alex seemed to understand what I was feeling back there. His strokes became more vigorous, more commanding.

I obeyed willingly.

I moved with his rhythm as though I was born to follow his lead. He must have realized my willingness, because his hands became freer in their range of motion. His fingertips casually brushed over my buttcrack. Occasionally a finger or two would make a tiny exploration into the crevice. Slowly, the fingers got courageous enough to make bolder explorations. Pretty soon, he was rubbing his hands up and down my asscrack. His thumbs touched my asshole and his other fingers fanned out across my asscheeks. I was in heaven!

"Sir?"

It took me a moment before I could grunt a reply.

"Sir? Please, you turn over now."

I did, and I wondered what Alex would say about my big erection. My dickhead was leaking all over my stomach. A trail of wet pre-cum ran between my dickhole and my stomach, like a sticky cobweb. When I looked up at Alex I saw he was saluting me with a rock-hard cock of his own, bobbing out from his groin like a two-by-four. Except the fact you don't usually cover a two-by-four with a rubber. I guess the snaps I'd heard were the sound of him sheathing his sword. And dangling below his pole were those two huge balls of his in their smooth, almost hairless sac.

Alex smiled at me, then lifted my legs by the heels. He climbed onto the table and rested his knees at the base of my buttocks. He took one hand to play with my asshole and the other to move his pointed finger along the muscles of my abdomen, which both tickled and drove me wild. The whole time, he looked down at me and smiled.

After a few minutes of this I couldn't take it anymore. "Fuck me," I shouted. "Fuck me, Alex! Fuck my ass!"

His big dick was up my ass in no time. At first I felt a sharp pain, like I'd had the wind knocked out of me. But I liked the pressure against that soft spot inside my asshole. I liked the feeling of having something inside me. He held my legs with his big, gentle hands while he kept his cock firmly inside me. Then, he began to pump it, rhythmically, the way he'd done before, only now using a very different muscle.

I couldn't believe how great the feeling of another guy's cock up my ass was. Better than that, though, was the way his huge balls slapped against my ass. Slap-slap-slap--the noise of the slapping was turning me on almost as much as the feeling of those giant eggs against my asscheeks. I put my hand out and held onto his balls as they went back and forth. Alex let out a little moan. Then he took one of his hands off my leg and wrapped it around my swollen pole. I felt like I couldn't breathe with all that sensation below my waist. I wanted it to stop and I wanted it never to stop.

His rhythm in my ass was his rhythm on my cock. Up and down; in and out; it was the same thing in both places. I was writhing in both ecstasy and agony. I didn't know what to do. My back started bucking, and before long I felt a stirring deep in my groin.

"I'm gonna come," I said.

"You wait, sir. I help you." Alex grabbed onto my balls and tugged just as I thought I was going to come. I felt a rush of orgasm, and then three seconds later my semen began to spray. I shot spurt after milky white spurt onto my stomach. It was as though Alex's hands on my balls had milked them dry.

After I came, Alex got even faster and stronger in his thrusts. He grabbed onto my ass hard with his two hands. My ass felt more relaxed, and I couldn't get enough of his meat up inside me. "More!" I shouted. "Harder! Harder!"

Well, I don't know if seeing one guy come makes the other guy's jism flow, but in almost no time Alex pulled out his dick, whipped the condom off, and came all over my cum-soaked belly. He pulled on the end of his dick to get every last drop of juice out. His foreskin retracted and re-covered his swollen head with every tug. His big fingers handled his massive tool expertly, while the fingers of his other hand ran along each of his massive balls.

I lay on the table awhile, looking up at Alex and his sly, smiling face. He brushed the hair out off his eyes and then winked at me. He took his hands and rubbed them around in the messy spunk on my stomach. Then we both hopped in the shower and scrubbed each other clean.

After cleaning up, I paid Alex and tipped him well. After all, he'd earned it. He made sure I still had his card and told me to call anytime. If he didn't answer the phone, I could make an appointment through his mother, which is who I'd talked to that morning.

And that crazy Jim! What would I say the next day at the office? It was kind of embarrassing. Apparently, I'm not as secretive about my private desires as I thought. And Jim was right...it was just what the doctor had ordered!