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The Tenant
Part 8

by Graham

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Copyright on this story text belongs at all times to the original author only, whether stated explicitly in the text or not. The original date of posting to the MMSA was: 17 Nov 2017

Mark Wickham’s affect and actions were somewhat improved after the St. Paddy’s Day experience. When he was at his apartment, he made an obvious effort to get out of his it and eat meals Mr. Strauss.

He was still gone a good bit, with running and working out, and the duties and responsibilities of teaching. Despite his more frequent social association with Mr. Strauss, Mark still remained mostly insulated in the solitude of his apartment a lot.

The older landlord was pleased to see the young man make an effort to get past, and out of, his isolated conduct; but his overall withdrawn, subdued, depressed attitude lingered nonetheless.

One thing that occurred was Corey, the young barber, called Mark, usually on Saturday or Sunday afternoons, to see if Mark wanted to join him to play some sets of tennis. Mark began doing that, and the two, young men became good friends, with an eager, competitive enjoyment of the sport together.

Sometimes, afterward, they two, young men would go off to get dinner together before calling it an evening, and Mark returning to Mr. Strauss’ house. When his landlord learned of their regular tennis matches, he began urging Mark to bring Corey back to the house, to join Mark and Mr. Strauss in home-cooked dinner.

In a short time, that became a regular ritual on either Saturday or Sunday night. Corey seemed to enjoy the better cooking, and the comradery with Mark and Mr. Strauss. After dinner, they usually adjourned to the parlour to watch sports on the big screen TV.

Mark and Corey were easy to get along, and also with Mr. Strauss. Corey was pretty much as they had seen him on St. Patrick’s Day evening. Quiet, humourous, but an ordinary, common, down-to-earth guy.

Another thing that happened was Coach Steve White spied Mark Wickham in the gym working out, while he himself was working out. They began talking, while working out, and Steve showed Mark how to do more, lighter repetitions, with more effective benefit that fewer, very heavy ones.

Steve White, 6 feet 5 inches, a former, college basketball player, was quite taller and bigger framed than Mark. He could handle (press, lift, do reps) of much more weight than Mark.

They both ran 6 miles each day, but Mark had to work harder to keep up with Steve’s longer legs. They also became friends, looking forward to meeting up and working out, and running, together.

In a short while, Mark learned that Steve had a minor in kinesthetics, massage, and rolfing. Not knowing much about any of it, he asked Steve. That became an opportunity for Steve to talk to Mark about the benefits of muscle therapy, although he really didn’t know what to ask.

Steve explained his observation that Mark, while quite athletic, with good reflexes, was very tight, his posture stiff, his muscles stiffened or not loose or relaxed. Running, while beneficial in many ways, can harm a body that is so tight, so stiff, the muscles and joints are battered by the running.

Take yourself, Mark, Steve went on. Just watching you, it’s clear  – at least to me  – you are very tense, tightly retracted in your body. Most of your muscles, that you exercise well, are inhibited by the tight contraction your entire body exerts.

I don’t know you well enough yet to tell if that’s a physical condition accompanying a very tightly wound up, tense and highly strung personality. Often it is, Mark.

Mark was surprised at hearing that. I, ah, don’t think so, Steve. I mean, I’m pretty everyday, go-with-the-flow, in most things.

Okay, maybe that’s what you think you are. As I said, I don’t really know you well enough, yet. I do know this, young man, Steve suddenly sounded older and peremptory, you don’t smile or interact very much, don’t seem to relax and enjoy yourself very often.

When you first came here, it seemed like you smiled and interacted more. But I can’t be certain about that, because I’ve only recently begun seeing and being around you on a regular basis. Anyway, I feel certain that some kinesthesis, rolf and massage therapy could do you a world of good, Steve concluded.

I’ll give it some thought, Steve, Mark said, flashing a slight grin, trying to change the subject of his demeanour and outlook, about which he was very nervous and insecure.

In fact, he did not. He forgot about it, although the two young men continued to work out and run together.

After over a month of daily running and exercising together, Steve learned that Mark was also regularly playing tennis each weekend with Corey. We should get together and take turns playing each other, Steve suggested.

Still, Mark, for all the extensive exercise and working out, and sports you’re playing, you are still so up-tight and tense, as if your whole body was a captive of stress.

You really think so? Mark asked incredulously, not knowing what to say.

I do, Mark. I’d like to try some of the therapy I know on you. I actually have several clients who come to me on the weekends to give them deep muscle therapy and rolfing. They all love it. I’d be willing to give it a shot with you, if you would, buddy, Steve offered.

When? How would I ever fit it into my schedule? Mark wisely considered.

We could do it on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. We could run shorter routes on those dates, the come back to the gym and get you up on the massage table and work on you, Steve explained.

It’s manageable, if you really want to do it. If you don’t like it, don’t get any benefit, any improvement, from it, we can stop, and just go back to running longer. It’s up to you, though, Mark. You’ve got to buy into the program, and stick with it, to see how it can help you.

Mark hesitantly conceded and assented to running 3 miles on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, then coming back to the gym for the kinesthesis, rolfing, and massage.

After working out, and running 3 miles, on Monday and Wednesday, Mark and Steve returned to the gym to commence Mark’s massage therapy. When he learned the rolfing and massage therapy required him to be nude, Mark balked for a minute or so.

Lying essentially powerless, naked, on a table, in the hands of somebody who’s going to be manipulating your bare body, was not an idea Mark was used to or comfortable with. Steve told Mark he could strip down to his jock or briefs, keep those on as they began, and lose them only after a lot of the therapy had been administered.

Mark did as his friend and older young man outlined. Monday and Wednesday were unnerving. He hated being subjected to the prolonged, necessary nakedness, and forceful, dominating physical touching that bordered on manhandling, abuse, and force.

He felt some slight loosening, relaxing, so he continued to trust and submit himself to the hands and treatment of his taller, stronger, slightly older new friend, Coach Steve White.

On Friday, returning to the gym, he kicked off his running shoes, pulled off his sweaty, soaked t-shirt, and slid his thin, nylon running shorts down and off, stepping out of them. That first week was horrible. Mark hated being virtually naked while massaged.

He despised even more the point in the routine when his jock had to come off and he had to remove it. Steve was sympathetic, and helped Mark rise up slightly on the table, sufficiently to allow the jock to be removed before baring everything.

Steve worked hard to gain Mark’s trust, to demonstrate the benefits to Mark, and to dispel the insecurity, doubts, and feelings of bumbling ineptness on Mark’s part. Mark worked hard at placing himself, trusting, in Steve’s hands; but it was difficult.

One week later, on Friday evening, Mark was back on the table in just his jock briefs, after having worked out and run 3 miles with Steve. The younger, smaller, man was lying quietly, feeling his blood pressure rising at the prospect of being manhandled by massage and rolfing, and ending up naked in the course of the treatment.

Steve began once again, realizing his new, younger buddy was as highly strung and tense as a high wire. Relax! Stop resisting! he repeatedly called out, using his hands, and voiced directions, to get Mark to let go, and experience a full release and relaxation.

Steve paused for a minute or so. Mark wondered if his friend had become exasperated and was about to give up on him.

All at once, Mark was astonished and frustrated at finding himself suddenly yanked off the table, pulled up by his bony hips, and deposited and held securely upside down over Steve White’s lap as he had sat down on a steel, folding chair.

Smaller, shorter, much thinner and lighter built, than his taller, stronger, athletic, new friend, Mark had an immediate sense of vulnerable powerlessness lying draped across his bigger friend’s legs. He couldn’t imagine what part of his therapy this might involve.

His head and legs dangled off the ground and he wondered why he was put in this position. When the first, unexpected smacks struck Mark, he began kicking his legs, trying to escape the stinging spanks.

He twisted and turned his body all over the lap of his big, new friend, whose grip held the young teacher tightly restrained, with a large strong arm wrapped around his small, slim waist.

The young teacher was angry and embarrassed at his helplessness to prevent or halt the spanking, or to break free and get away. He tried hard, determined to make no sound, to avoid breaking down like a little boy getting a spanking from his big brother.

When the young coach increased the speed, to a flurry of spanks only seconds apart, the gathering heat and pain began evoking aaaahs, oooos, ows, and hissing groans from the upended teacher, despite his best intentions to remain stoical and silent.

The bigger, young coach beat out a staccato rhythm on Mark Wickham’s boyish backside. Shortly, the stinging accumulation began to make his bottom feel like he’d sat down suddenly in hot, scalding water or on a fallen hive of bees.

The long barrage of steady swats, to varying targets on Mark’s overturned, sore bottom, cumulatively drove him to, and past, his pain threshold. Tears streaming down his face, he continued struggling, until giving up the fight, he capitulated.

His bottom felt like flames were lapping and singeing it. The young coach paused, reached for the waistband of Mark’s navy blue jock briefs, tugging them down over his thin, bony hips, lean, narrow rump, his skinny, lithe legs, and off his slender feet.

Mark was mortified at being spanked by his bigger, stronger, new friend, his bare bum upended in the air, roasted hot and red with a paddling brush. It was all so humiliating and degrading to him.

Resigned to Steve continuing until he determined he had achieved what he had started this interruption in treatment for, Mark squalled and bawled, sounding more and more like a child. After more than 60 whacks, the young coach stopped spanking.

At the end Mark’s bottom was crimson, red-marked with hand prints, and burning hot. Lifted up off Coach Steve’s lap to stand nude, Mark’s hands flew back immediately, furiously and feverishly rubbing, unaware at the moment of his semi-turgid member bouncing around, up and down, and sticking out before them both.

Mark stomped, and clasped his bottom, trying to mollify the pain and extinguish his humiliation and chagrin. Steve ignored all the reactions of his new, young friend to having been spanked.

Encircling his large, strong hands on both side of Mark’s bouncing, twisting, hips, he raised his new, young friend up off the floor, into the air, and placed him back prone on the massage table.

Lying there, with his hands still affixed to his red-marked, hot, sore rump, the young teacher was softly weeping gasping whimpers. In that moment, having been treated like a kid, getting upended and his bare bottom spanked , he felt lot younger than he really was.

Hey, Mark, now you’re relaxing. This will really have an effect on you. You’ll see, Steve encouraged his browbeaten friend with the promise of salutary results. Come on now, put your arms up above your head, across the table, stretch your legs and feet, spreading them apart.

Mark audibly choked and gulped back sobs, reluctantly compelling his arms and hands to leave the mission of ameliorating his chastened rearend. Lying flat on his face and stomach again, he admittedly let go a lot more, allowing his older, bigger, new young friend to administer his muscled, therapeutic massaging and manipulation.

The bigger, strong hands kneaded and squeezed muscles and loosened joints, now much more released and relaxed. Less inhibited, Mark felt himself being carried along by a gentle, soothing current unwinding and disentangling emotions and physical restraints.

Being a bit ticklish, the persistent touching of certain, sensitive areas made him wriggle and giggle in a silly-sounding, self-conscious, low voice. Loosening of his neck and back, cervical and lumbar, produced a huge unlaxing bodily release for Mark.

This is pretty amazing stuff! he thought to himself. The massaging of his feet and legs, gradually progressing up to his thighs and buttocks, was unfamiliar to Mark, however.

He squirmed, instinctively re-tensing his body and mind. Five more, quick, surprise smacks on his lower glutes from Steve, along with the chastising censure directing him to relax, instantly sparked his relenting and returning to loosened condition.

Allowing the masseuse-coach to perform his treatment, he tolerated the gripping, squeezing, separating of his stinging mounds, as the therapy was applied to his rump as well. He was zapped like an electrical shock when a large, fleshy phalanx touched, then invaded him, intruding into his anal canal!

What the hell is that?! Mark thought, alarmed as all of a sudden he felt a jolt that felt like he was about to be launched into space as pubic-topped projectile. Another was triggered, then another, and another!

The big bony finger, worming within him made repeated, seemingly unceasing contact with something that shot sparks of exciting arousal and emotions throughout his body. He was sweating, and trembling, and his young, male member, stimulated and engorged, almost instantly became a demanding boner beneath him.

Still, the finger kept its incessant contact on Mark’s hot spot, while Steve’s other hand massaged Mark’s buttocks, hips, and lumbar area. The younger teacher was being taken over, involuntarily overwhelmed by the feelings stirred from the rubbing contact inside him, and his humping contact against the table.

His abdomen and butt, lifting and humping the table, thrust his engorged, erect bone to mounting arousal, propelled by the exciting contact within him. His feet and legs were kicking and thrusting out and up and down on the table.

All at once, he felt faint, a light-headed dizziness, as if he were about to lose consciousness, accompanied by a steam-rolling, orgasmic wave rushing to sexual climax.

Overwhelmed with sexual release, his bare body was covered in a fresh flood of perspiration as he exploded an unrestrainable, volcanic discharge of ejaculate, shooting semen out all over himself and the table.

Shocked, shaken, and rattled by this unexpected phenomenon, Mark felt himself further demeaned by suddenly breaking down into crying sobs. The breakdown behaviour was disconcerting and startling to the bigger, stronger, slightly older assistant coach.

He knew that rolfing and massage could sometimes trigger an involuntary release of emotions, but his younger friend’s involuntary, emotional plunge into sobbing was unexpected.

Steve patted the very damp back of the head of his quivering, heaving, bawling, young friend. Eventually, Mark began to regain his self-command, swallowing back his cries and weeping until he lay flat and still, whimpering and breathing heavily.

It’s okay, Mark. It happens sometimes, depending on the stage of treatment, and the person. Let’s get you cleaned up so we can finish up and you be on your way.

Leaving momentarily, he returned from a sink with a basin of warm water. Rollover, buddy, he called his instruction to Mark, who, red-faced and mortified, did as ordered.

Taking a washcloth soaked with warm water, Steve proceeded to wipe down his young, embarrassed friend, his chest, legs, and scrotum and penis. The foreign touch on the younger man’s genitals made him flinch, caused a semi-tumid response, and evoked a loud gasp and further red-faced embarrassment, as Mark’s hips and buttocks lifted up off the table.

It was even worse as Steve dried him off with a towel. Mark lay there, reddened, wide eyes watching with glum embarrassment.

I’m, ah, suh-areee, ah, Stuh-eve, Mark responded. Ah, whuh-eye did you-uh-do-thuh-at? he asked in a still-crumbled voice.

First of all, it’s not all that unusual for a client to have emotional responses accompanying physical relief. I’ve seen it in others, too, Steve answered. He withheld his surprise at finding that from Mark.

Second, you are extremely tense, up-tight and high strung, Mark. Since we’re both single and unattached, and probably not been laid for way too long, I thought the experience might augment your therapy. I apologize if I took improper liberties with you.

Now, Mark was in a quandary. He could tell Steve it was improper, and end any more therapy sessions, as well as their friendship and exercise together. On the other hand, he was literally a blown-away novice at everything he had encountered (except for the spanking, which he would not admit anyway); but was reluctant to disclose that too.

Ah, you, ah, juh-ust surprised me, totally! I had no idea of what was involved, what to expect, ah, and ... caught short, Mark cautiously responded.

Had you not ever experienced that before? Steve asked matter-of-factly.

Ah, no, no, ah, never, ah, it, ah, blew me away, um, literally, Mark answered.

Well, how do you feel? Steve inquired.

Blushing, Mark shook his head slightly. I’m dunno, I’m not sure, he replied.

Do you feel better? Relaxed? Refreshed? At ease? Charged up? Rested? All those are typical and appropriate feelings after a vigourous therapy session like you had.

Maybe all of them, Steve, Mark acknowledge. I mean, I’ve had my emotional legs knocked out from under me, and I don’t know what to make of it, yet.

Fair enough. Come on, let’s get you up and dressed. Sessions over, Steve urged, as Mark slid off the table, found his civilian clothes he’d worn to classes, and re-dressed.

I’m not surprised to hear you select all of the above for your feelings following this active and robust a treatment as you’ve had today. You look better, I’ll tell you. Different. I hope you feel it, Mark. Have a good weekend, buddy. See you Monday.

Ah, thanks, you too, Steve. See you Monday, Marked spoke in a dampened voice.

He was self-consciously embarrassed about the whole physical massage episode, feeling very diminished and juvenile over his unplanned, unanticipated reaction. Yet, he did feel different. He could tell, although he did not know how to describe it.

It was almost 7 p.m., when Mark walked into Mr. Strauss’ house on his way to the apartment.

Mark, there you are, young man! I was beginning to worry about you. Martin Strauss paused. Looking the gaunt, lanky young man up and down, he spoke.

Are you alright, Mark? You look different, exhausted, worn out, but relaxed, even younger, too! he laughed.

Mark smiled a wan, but warm, smile back at his landlord.

What’s happened, young Mr. Wickham? Something’s different. You look, and act, different. Go on, get changed and cleaned up, then come join me for dinner, unless you’ve got other plans.

No, sir, no other plans. I’d be glad to join you for dinner, Mr. Strauss.

Great! Mr. Strauss responded.

Ah, Mr. Strauss, could I have a little bit to take a bath before eating dinner with you? I’m all sweaty from working out, running, and the massage therapy.

Okay, no problem, son. You go head, soak and get clean and relaxed. We’ll break bread and talk, maybe pour a beer or two. Hurry now, though!

Mr. Strauss urged the young teacher, who hastened along with a lithe and youthful lope that struck Mr. Strauss as a sign of a change in his young tenant.

After luxuriating in the warm shower for almost 30 minutes, Mark got out, dried, and dressed in loose-fitting (as everything did these days) sweat pants and a t-shirt. His feet were bare in flip flops as he walked down to the kitchen to join his landlord.

They had a great time eating, drinking beer, and talking together. In answer to questioning by Mr. Strauss, Mark explained about the massage-rolfing he’d added to his exercise schedule, at the advice and handling of the young assistant coach, Steve White.

Mark said he could feel a difference, but he was not sure why. (He deliberately did not mention anything about either the spanking or the prostate-massage orgasm he’d gotten).

After lingering in the kitchen for a long time talking, the two men cleaned up the table and kitchen, and went into the parlour to watch TV together. Stanley Cup playoffs were on, and they sat and peered at the game.

Finally, the fatigue of the week, and the long day of work and exercise took its toll on the young teacher. Sitting on the couch, he was again sliding sideways as his eyes slammed shut.

Okay, come on, young man. You’re in need of a good night’s sleep. Let’s get you back to your apartment, Martin Strauss advised, as he stood up and hoisted Mark up onto his heavy feet, to guide and steer him to his apartment.

Strangely, Mark Wickham voiced no refusal or unwillingness to being given advice and guided, but instead, strangely, relaxed and reposed in his landlord’s arms that held him steady on his feet.

Leaning almost peacefully on Mr. Strauss, as his strong left arm circled the young man’s shoulders, Mark stepped along, led, intermittently conscious from the parlour, down the hall to his apartment, and into his bed.

It was an easy task for Mr. Strauss to pull the loose sweat pants down and off the lean tenant’s hips and rump, and the t-shirt up and off his bony chest, thin arms, and over his head, as he lay stretched horizontally on the bed. Covering the bony, emaciated young frame, he could not fail to notice the harsh, fresh marks on the young teacher’s bottom.

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