The football player

Football player

The football player

The football player is one of my best client’s intimate friends. My regular Pablo and his wife share lots of social events with this athlete, and they also welcome warmly each and every new girlfriend of his. In fact, Pablo had told me many anecdotes about his celebrity friend before.

Until one day they had a conversation about some more intimate experiences. That’s when tantric massages became their secret conversation theme.

This story is real. Though don’t expect to see any real names and relevant informations about both of my clients. I’m sure you’ll understand I will not expose any too personal informations. As I also state in the testimonials, I always fight for all of my clients’ privacy.

Trust is a relevant factor, always and in all departments of life and business. And building it is a matter of consistency in time.

Back to the story, Juan Carlos wanted to meet me personally before deciding if I was “his type of type”. I suspect he did interview a couple more of male masseurs, and I’m not sure if he did it before or after my interview. I wasn’t certain at all he would choose me. Apparently Pablo had told him that I was the best masseur for him. But this sort of decisions are very personal. So I totally agree with him taking his own decisions.

And that’s all I knew before meeting this guy personally.


Pablo sent me a brief message.

Hotel Soho House. 4 PM cafeteria Cecconi. I know you are punctual.

As I entered the posh cafeteria I could see elderly couples and very trendy younger couples. Since I didn’t know who Pablo’s friend was, I suspected he was the only guy who was sitting alone on the long corner sofa. The wall behind him was a brick wall, decorated with some hanging plants at different heights, in a very state of the art Boho Chic style.

He was wearing some blue reflecting Police sunglasses. His dark hair was glowing in gel. And an impeccable white shirt —almost unbuttoned to his belly— with a big collar. His sleeves were folded up, showing his tanned and hairy forearms. All in all, his look was doubtlessly Italian. He was also wearing a golden chain with a medal, half hidden among his curled chest hair.

With his left hand he first signalised me to come closer, so I assumed I was going to sit on the chair facing him. He changed his mind as I got closer and tapped the sofa next to him. That gesture felt a little too Italian —in the wrong way.

His smile was flawlessly white. That’s where I had to look to, since I couldn’t see his eyes.

The casting

I first thought about how near I should sit to him. I chose the middle point of socially respectful and intimately close. Juan Carlos wat straight to the point.

So are you seeing many celebrities?

To me everyone is a person. And my service is a very human one.

My answer sounded a bit harsh to myself, so I decided on sweetening my attitude.

I like feminine, sweet, fragile and elegant ladies.

For a second I couldn’t see where I could fit in his preferences. Then he went on:

When it comes to men, big, tall, hairy, strong and straight forward.

One second silence.

As you.

Then I could finally breathe.

Juan Carlos stroke a little bit his leg, the one closest to me. Then I focused on his lap. Some expensive linen egg-shell coloured pants. I couldn’t resist checking his bulge.

That was the wrong moment, since we had the waiter right in front of us, with a question mark face.

I suggest Bellinis.

He just looked at me to confirm, but he already decided clearly. I was cool with it.

Pablo told me your massages are very special. Like not too similar to my club’s therapist.

I laughed, and since he mentioned his Football Club I switched to use a vocabulary that could feel more familiar to him.

That’s right! As you guess, everybody wants to shoot to goal, but I will stop the ball so the game lasts much longer.

To stop the ball… will you use your hands?

And all of my body!

His smile got even wider.

I get paid tog get the ball in. As many times I can.

Well, I’m paid for the opposite. You won’t have an easy job with me.

How long is one of your matches?

Getting to the point

This guy could pay for whole nights. Though I always prefer concentrating on honesty. I saw myself giving him a two hours tantric session.

Usually 90 minutes, as your games. But I’d like to stretch it to two hours.

I guess you already turned me on.

He chuckled. I could see his amazingly big and strong inner thighs. That was an incredibly sexy sight! His penis seemed to move inside his bulge, and he intentionally wanted me to notice. I was also starting too get aroused, but I felt too shy to admit it. I was certain he used many escorts, both male and female, but I can’t see myself as one more of those. My tantric massage is a very different sort of intimate experience. Hopefully he was aware of it.

In case you wonder, I already tried some escorts. Pablo told me about how different your service feels. So I’m curious!

Ok, I could take a deep breath, very relieved.

That was when Juan Carlos took off his sunglasses. And I had the feeling I could finally see his soul.

His eyebrows were dark and thick. His eye lashes were also dark and long. They put a tender and fragile frame around his black eyes. While his body and attitude were rogue, his eyes couldn’t hide the sweetness of a young athlete who got very rich in a short time.

I felt immediately ready to serve him. To me the casting was over. Though Juan Carlos had yet another surprise to me. A very deceiving one.

I’ll let you know tomorrow. Maybe.

I instantly got up like a spring, wishing not to disturb him despite both of us being so excited. He also had a quick look at my bulge.

The Italian handshake

Our handshake was a very Italian one, masculine, strong and short. Then he also winked with an eye and half a smile. Everything about him was extremely sexy.

Since I already had some appointments for the next day, I feared his agenda would not match mine. Though I didn’t say anything and I left. A little bit confused, a little bit frustrated. Well, you can’t always have everything! Unlike Juan Carlos.

As the next morning passed by I started to feel more and more disappointed. I served two of my clients during the morning and lunch time. As I started the evening client I was sure I wouldn’t be able to answer Juan Carlos’ message, if he ever texted me. So I would definitely miss him.

And that was exactly what happened. After finishing the evening client I saw Pablo had already sent me a message. Was it too late to answer?

Juan Carlos doesn’t want you to meet at his hotel.

Fortunately, there was a second message.

I’ll send address at 9, to meet him at 10.

My mood was somewhere between looking forward and cautious. As usual, I got at the address a bit too soon. That was an extremely expensive apartment building. Once I reached his floor, the elevator doors opened directly into a spacious room. I could only see extremely expensive furniture, items and plants.

I heard his voice coming from some distance. That house was big!

Come in, Paco!

He greeted me in a dark blue robe, with a half hug.

I felt cold. It was dark outside and from that height you could see little traffic lights, cars and also the blinking tiny light of a plane in the distance. The big room was filled with the hushed guitars of “The XX”. I had the feeling that music was making the space even bigger and colder. I heard some big ice stones hitting two big balloon glasses and Juan Carlos handed me a Gin&Tonic. This guy always chooses the drinks for me. I wondered if an athlete can have so much alcohol, or so frequently.

Cold candles

As much as I anticipated this session yesterday, I still didn’t feel ready for it at that time.

I also lighted some candles inside the massage room. That’s what Pablo tells me you always do.

He lifted his ballon.


He also blinked his eye, as yesterday. So he had a specific room for massage. Well, he or his friend. I felt that crib wasn’t his. Otherwise, why was he sleeping in a hotel?

Again, it was time for me to cheer up, find the connection back and warm up the room ourselves. That wasn’t difficult, since Juan Carlos’ look felt warm, and I could feel he desired closeness and —that’s the key to me— some complicity. Sexy complicity.

He looked at me cheerfully, and it was absolutely irresistible not to feel the same warmth. At different spots: on my face, my heart, and a bit below. His beautiful eyebrows and eyelashes awakened in me the desire to kiss him all over these spots. I restrained —by now.

Once we got inside the room I decided to leave the door slightly open. This way “The XX”‘s music would sneak inside. Juan Carlos had carefully set a number of little tea candles all around the perimeter of the room. Somehow it felt like a football field, and I remember the metaphor of “shooting a goal” on me. He sat on top of the massage table. As always, I asked my client:

Do you feel the need to share something before the referee uses his whistle to start the massage? Limits, suggestions…

Forget the referee and his whistle. Besides, I prefer blowing rather than whistling!

Dark room, dark cherry

Ok, that was another clue of how hot this athlete liked his practices. Since he sat on top of his robe, I thought it’d be difficult to merge the tantric session with the fact I had to command him with spoken words. Though I managed to direct his moves inducing him by desire to follow me.

So I started caressing his head and ears using my fingertips. Slowly, carefully, while he was looking at me in amazement. At some point he breathed deeply and closed his eyes. I know these first moments feel awkward for some clients, who expect the session to start with some very explicit strokes. Juan Carlos seemed to adapt and relax quickly, and his shoulders fell a couple inches down. I thought he was giving up any previous idea he had about my job, so he let go.

Then I caressed his shoulders over the robe. Also his arms. I was standing in front of him and started to grow hard. What sort of dick would he have? I wondered if it would fit the strength and girth of his thighs.

The room was dark, and also his robe. But something started to part his robe on the area of his lap. A big cherry coloured fruit started to grow and open its way through the fabric. It must be his glans. I couldn’t avoid feeling an even more intense excitement.

Slowly i touched his arms and shoulders in a way that his robe fell down, showing his chest. He wasn’t that strong on his upper body. Obviously because he used his legs and ankles much more to run after the ball and shoot it.

Keep in charge

He opened his eyes looking into mine with a smile. As he jumped to get off the massage table, his robe fell all down to the floor. He was totally exposed in front of me. And man, was he a monument of male perfection! His dark skin, dark body hair was neatly profiled by the candle light, as if his silhouette was drawn with flames. He was wearing a fine golden chain with a golden medal. Suddenly I remembered Hristo Stoichkov.

football player

Gay football player

My jaw dropped, as my robe did. I also had a throbbing erection, and he seemed to be very happy with it. He didn’t touch me though. By now he was still obedient, and did nothing that I wasn’t doing. The tips of our dicks slightly touched, and that felt extremely ticklish on my foreskin. He was circumcised, so my skin felt a bit stickier on his head than if I wasn’t. Both our penises expelled the first drops of pre-cum. That was a very intense moment, and we still were starting.

We were both silent, and we could feel each other’s breathing. He clearly felt I was in control, and I guess he was somehow trying to follow my same pace. I felt powerful, and that’s a great start for a tantric session. You need to feel you are in control of the receiver.

Are you ok?

I asked.

About to shoot a goal and win the match over you.

That was clearly too early. So I took his hands with mine to avoid us both start to stroke each other. He intertwined his fingers between mine —really strong. That felt very reassuring of my job, and also exciting. This signalises the receiver is opening his doors to the masseur.

Going horizontal

It was about time to go horizontal. Especially for him, so I could go on having control. He first wanted to lay upwards on top of the table, but I corrected him to lay face down. First I gave him several very long strokes, from head to toes, which had the goose bumps effect on him.

Then I placed myself at his feet, to work on them specifically. I “unintentionally” rubbed my dick against his feet, which also had a very exciting effect on both of us. I pushed my dick against his feet, and he slowly moved up his hips, apparently to put his dick in a more comfortable position under his own weight.

He seemed to like using his feet, and he put them together to grab my dick and jerk me off carefully. That felt extremely arousing to me! As a football player I supposed it must have felt easy for him.

From there I had the amazing vision of his calves and his thighs. His buttocks were also a heroic vision, and I nodded to myself in awe. It was a great pleasure pleasing him, because sight, touch and strength came together on his gorgeous body. It was easy working on him, and I must confess I enjoyed it. I even put my whole chest on top of his calves, extending my arms and hands reaching out for his buttocks.

That was the start of the body to body contact, and he seemed to feel surprised about it. It’s logical, if you always use a massage table instead of a Japanese bed. That was when the real tantric experience started for him, I guess.

The will to sin

A sort of instinct took over me, I felt like a wild animal inside of me wanting to devour his buttocks. Maybe I lost control over myself, because I started to climb o top of the table to rub my dick first between his thighs, then against his cheeks. He started to move like a snake below my body. I really sticked my dick onto his buttocks, and the pressure felt rocky and virile.

Juan Carlos stuck his face against the table’s surface, in a way he appeared to be very aware of how hot the situation was turning.

As I used warm oil to work on the parting of his buttocks he sighed in surprise. His warm perineum area was also very sensitive to excitement, though I wasn’t sure if he’d allow me to stimulate his sphincter. The vision of his anal area felt to me like the door to access a mysterious hell. Tempting and so seducing as it awakened in me an irresistible will to sin. His balls started to jump, and that was the point when I felt I was shooting pre-cum without control. If I followed my instincts, I’d be riding the shortest and fastest way into hell.

The candles limiting the perimeter of the room started to feel to me like torches growing bigger and bigger flames. Their original meaning of peace and magic transformed into a burning sin that was going to devour me… and Juan Carlos altogether. All that fire was drawing our contours in the darkness of that room.

Sometimes during the massage sessions I have visions like these. I don’t know how to decode them because they feel symbolic. But I’m sure everything has a meaning. Then I saw Juan Carlos swimming inside liquid gold. All that golden lava moved like slow flames of a gelly fire.

The dark look

I found myself beside the table, with an erection so strong that felt like a constant orgasm. He slowly raised his face to watch inside my eyes. His dark look was like a deep question mark melting into an unstoppable desire. At that point I didn’t know how to regain control over the session.

Suddenly I saw myself lifting my right knee, and putting it on top of the table, right between his thighs. I slowly pushed my leg towards his entrance, and he must have felt like a giant penis wishing to penetrate him. He looked up with a deep groan. He also grabbed the side of the table with his hands, as if he was going to lift all his body. That felt like a reaction to protect himself, though also a way to signalise he wanted to participate more actively.

I ignored it by pushing his waist back against to the table surface and I went on stimulating his anal area and his balls. He went crazy and started to make circular moves with his hips. He continuously tried to lift up his waist, he clearly wanted me to stimulate his dick directly. By taking my time to delay it, the situation gained more and more magic and intensity. I am sure he wanted to let go completely to fuck each other. But I ignored him.

Just in case, I moved on towards the rest of his back, starting with a very sensual kidneys area massage. Every now and then I slipped one hand below his stomach, just to unintentionally brush his head, and then moved towards his nipples. He couldn’t stop sighing. His voice felt like an anxious suffering. Like in deep pain. Like condemnation.

Follow me

That was when he decided to turn over, no matter what. I carefully found a better position not to fall from the table. He moved his body searching to look directly into my face. He stared into my eyes and my closed lips looking for answers. Either of us didn’t say a word.

As he grabbed my dick I decided to stretch it even more. I jumped down the table and put myself where he had his head. He followed my new position without losing eye contact. His body was face up on the table, so I started to work on his head and face. I could see his dick throbbing up and down, like desperately screaming for my hands or my mouth to please it all the way. All his body was moving like a ship in a storm, desperately, not knowing where destiny was taking him to.

As I worked gently on his nipples, his abs contracted into different positions. I could see in detail the shape of his amazing penis. It had the shape of a dolphin, curved and thicker in the middle segment. His cherry head so seductive and screaming like some ice cream “lick me”.

Again I could smell his crotch. A dry scent of nuts, so masculine and harsh.

As my body moved following the massage strokes, I felt like my dick was watering the candles with petrol. It all felt so surreal, intense and absurd.

He threw his arms up into the dark, searching for whatever part of my body. He reached my chest, and sensed to find my nipples.

The handle

His hushed voice sounded like a beg.


Somewhere I read that a persons’ name is like a handle. It’s the way to grab a person. Thats’ what he did by calling my name.

He turned to the side and tapped the surface of the massage table. That was his peculiar way to ask me to his side. Since I was standing, the position was difficult, but I tried to hug him. He pulled me the way I had to climb the table again, and that’s what I did. With my gestures I instructed him to lay face up, and I put my whole body on top of his, leaning on my arms, not to be too heavy and to be in position to brush my body on his. He constantly followed my eyes, literally nailing his look into mine.

My dick was so hard it got stuck against his balls. I started to move stimulating his hairy testicles and his perineum with my penis. That drove him crazy.

His thick brows, his dark eyes looked begging like a victim’s. He was imploring me to shoot a goal and win that match over him the sooner the better.

I still took my time though.

The candles seem to burn in bigger flames. I moved my chest toward his belly. Then slowly to brush his dick, than over his thighs. He lifted up his face to watch what I was doing. But his dick was still throbbing and shooting little drops of pre-cum all around.

Veins like knots

I planned something different, but suddenly he pulled his legs while he lifted his whole body, and then put his legs out the table surface. He sat in front of me, looking inside my eyes but then also to my dick. We sat symmetrically facing each other like watching a mirror. His dick seemed to be even bigger, with his legs spread to the sides. Every second it crashed against his belly. Very slowly he leaned forward, in a long arch that ended with his face on my crotch.

I could see the veins of my dick like nots wanting to break free. He looked up, I could see adoration in his beautiful dark eyes. Then he put his front against my dick, and started to push like a bull. That felt incredibly sexy to me, and I was about to ejaculate on top of his hair. I wonder what he would say if I did.

It was time to regain control over him, so I carefully pushed his chest back, until he laid down horizontally. His abs contracting to slow down the movement were a symphony. Then I laid back on top of his whole body.

And in a way that drove him even crazier. Because I started to roll my dick upon his. The rubbing against each other penises felt strong and virile, and he embraced me with a strength that felt dangerous to me. He desperately rubbed his dick against mine, and his breathe was shorter and shorter, faster and faster.

Violent tenderness

Despite his suffocating strength that moment felt so sweet and tender, and he looked inside my eyes as if he was starting to cry. There was a moment when I moved a bit too fast away from his face, and my dick went back between his thighs, pushing against his anus —and his balls too.

This is a corner stone of the Tantric massage. The simulation of the perianal area, and Juan Carlos felt it in its strongest power.

We rubbed our noses against each other, and his breathe was desperate. I wasn’t aware of time, temperature, place or anything else. Only the two of us. “The XX” music said.

Am I blind?

Something warm brushed my chest. I looked down expecting to see his golden medal. Then I saw his second shot of semen that reached his chin. And a third that hit my lips.

He moved his hips wanting me to accidentally penetrate him, and that was when I couldn’t hold back any more. My semen wet his balls, his dick and all his pubic area.

Juan Carlos went on ejaculating. Some of his last shots hit his hairy chest and his medal. His semen had also that nut scent, though with a bitterer note.

He was still looking at me. I sensed some new seriousness. He wasn’t smiling, as I expected. He kept silent while I reached for some humid paper towels. I carefully cleaned all the semen pearls all over his body.

His head fell back into a position of rest. I think he closed his eyes. So I moved to the bath room.

The afterglow

I always take a shower after finishing a massage. There was also a strange need for me to take some distance from him. I put his robe all over his body, not to get cold.

Once I came back into the room, his breath had calmed down. He tapped the surface next to him again, and I leaned over his body like watching a deadly Madonna in her bed of death. He opened his eyes just enough to check that I was next to him.

Now I understand Pablo.

It was obvious that he hardly disconnected. His sort of trance was a very aware one.

I forgot who I am all this time. What you did to me is awesome.

With a small gesture of my finger I instructed him to stay silent.

If this was a massage, how the fuck would be having sex with you?

I remained silent. It’s not the right time to start a conversation. And confessions are very useful, especially for the receiver of the massage.

This has been the shortest eternity ever.


That session lasted a little bit over two hours. And “The XX”‘s music was still floating, making me feel that the night was deep and late.

Do you have a minute to talk?

I already started dressing. He went on talking in brief sentences.

I don’t want to have a shower. I’d like to keep your smell and your warmth all over my body.

I felt a bit guilty because I hadn’t been able to keep from ejaculating. In my opinion it is unprofessional. Especially because I can’t give this privilege to all of my clients. Besides, I have my private life, which I need to respect.

As I walked out the little room I could see the Gin&Tonic ballon glasses. The ice was melted and soaked the glass surface.

All your massages are like this?

Juan Carlos followed me out the room in his robe.

Of course not. Are all your football matches all the same?

Got it.

He sat on the sofa and started playing with his gold chain around his neck. He looked at me as he was planning something, though silently.

Please don’t get confused, Paco. I want no strings.

I kept silent. There was no right answer for that sort of comment.

He started playing with his dick under his robe. I could see he was starting to have another erection.

I need to go.

He stood up, like a spring, maybe confused.

You can’t go just like that.

Again, I preferred to stay silent. He walked towards the eating table. His blazer was hanging on the back of a chair, and I guess he pulled out his wallet. I heard the sound of paper friction. Then he faced back to me with a big smile.


He came closer to me, though too close, as if we needed to hide the counting of the bills from someone. He started counting them.

Once he reached the right amount I said:


But he went on… not counting. I grabbed his wrist, but he did not stop counting bills. I nodded with my head looking deep inside his wonderful eyes. Then he pushed all the bills inside my fist and closed with both hands.

He blinked his eye again.

More erotic stories

You’ll find a number of erotic stories I am writing during lockdown. By the way, how does covid-19 affect our service?

Recently I published the hot couple massage, which I performed together with Jack. And also Fernando, the Brazilian, a very sexy customer visiting Barcelona. Some guys answered me saying:

Those are very nice gay stories.

But, rather than fiction, they are descriptions —from my point of view— of true massage sessions. What the clients say are the testimonials, which you are also welcomed to read!

You will find the full story about Juan Carlos, the football player, with many more juicy details, on my Spanish website about forbidden gay massage. Along with many other stories I will be translating into English.

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