Manhandled – The Massage – Brad Kalvo & Ari Sylvio
If anyone were to walk in and give Brad Kalvo shit right now for having his cock balls deep in his masseur’s mouth, he could honestly tell them it wasn’t his fault.
Not after the way the smaller man’s eyes had been devouring him from the second Brad walked into the room. With his size, Brad was used to the looks and the stares, but that had been the hungry gaze of a customer sizing up his lunch order of beef at the butcher shop. And with the Mr. Kalvo’s this and the Mr. Kalvo’s that and the way he waited barely ten seconds after getting Brad naked to start reaching under the towel and feeling up his ass…no, this was most certainly not his fault.
After all – nobody put the moves on Brad Kalvo. If there were moves to be put on, you’d better believe he’d be the one doing the putting.
And speaking of pudding, Brad got back to focusing on the melting puddle of moans and spasming nerves writhing helplessly before him on the bed. He gave his massage therapist’s juicy bone another good lick, his tongue teasing patterns all around the angry purple cockhead before shoving his face down between the little man’s thighs. His mouth swiped up and down the length of his taint, exploring the caverns of his ass crack, getting every inch sloppy and wet with his spit and saliva. He curled his tongue into a tiny pink javelin (his tricks were always surprised at how dexterous as big a man as he could be) and speared the masseur’s rosebud with it, thrusting his way aggressively inside.
His captive audience squealed in response and damn near leaped off the bed but Brad shoved him back down with just one thick arm, clamping his palm over the smaller man’s face and muffling his eager, breathy desperate moans. He could tell the little man was frustrated – he got the sense with his cute face and smart mannerisms he was used to getting his way through subtle manipulations – but judging the way his cock stood at full mast, he wasn’t really that opposed to a stronger man teaching him to mind himself with a good hard fuck.
But that was for later. Right now, after all the attention he’d given his masseur’s cock and ass, Brad thought it was past time he returned the favor. After all, this session was about his relaxation, and with that he moved up the bed and planted his muscular ass right atop the man’s face. Ignoring his squawking protesting, Brad sank himself lower til the man’s nose was swimming in the heady, sweaty scent of his post-workout aroma. He sank lower still when the man reflexively opened his mouth wide in an attempt to grab some more air, and instead his tongue just grabbed a salty taste of Brad’s firm and meaty buttocks. Brad sighed and gripped the man’s hair tight in approval – he must have found something up there he liked, because he was off to the races, tongue licking and flicking and jabbing frantically, trying to get at him from every conceivable angle, something Brad was more than happy to allow.
He shifted back onto the man’s chest, allowing him a chance to breathe and savoring the dazed, sweat and spit streaked face staring up at him – so much so that he couldn’t resist spitting another mouthful of saliva into the mix, smirking when the therapist sputtered indignantly even while his eyes yearned for more. Then Brad rocked forward, still keeping the smaller man easily trapped beneath his trunk-like thighs, and drove his cock into an eagerly waiting open mouth, fucking his face at an awkward angle that nevertheless threatened to make him cum far too soon.
But a slight timeout just long enough to grab the condom and lube and maneuver the masseur’s ass into sitting atop his dick did wonders for Brad’s stamina, and surprise, surprise, there was no sign of the smaller man’s resistance as he lowered himself onto Brad’s waiting pole. It drove upwards into the therapist’s hole with minimal resistance, and the man bounced eagerly up and down, riding it for all he was worth, the tight muscles ringed around Brad’s cock clenching suggestively, milking every last drop of sensation out of it. Overcome with lust, Brad threw himself into the fuck, rolling them over til Brad was on top, his masseur’s legs bent back and his chest pinned beneath Brad’s massive frame. Brad claimed his mouth with hungry kisses and his cock claimed his ass with stroke after stroke after stroke. He rolled them again and raised the smaller man on all fours, pounding him furiously from behind, pulling him up against Brad’s thick, hairy chest with an arm wrapped around his neck and his hair rubbing the other man’s back raw with friction.
Sweat was dripping out both their pores, groans ringing out from each their throats and when Brad finally planted the other man face up on his bed and jetted his orgasm across his chin and cheeks, it couldn’t really be called a ‘happy ending’.
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