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: 01 Dec 2017
By mid May, Mark Wickham and Steve White had become well-established in their thrice-weekly massage-rolfing sessions. The sessions now included Mark being spanked over the young coach’s lap while the vibrating prostate simulator wrought its effects on the mostly passive, helpless, needy, young teacher.
At the end of every session, wrung out, overall docile, his tensions, nervous agitation, frustrations, and uptight and depressive moods had been tamed and purged. He was tractable, submissive, and compliant; but he was at peace.
On Monday, May 17, he and Steve worked out together at the gym, after which they set out on an 8-mile run. They kept pace and ran hard, returning sweaty, needing showers.
Both teacher and assistant coach stripped off their sweat-soaked running gear and raced into the showers together. Steve noticed the vestigial marks on Mark’s rump and thighs from the 5 birthday spankings he’d gotten two days earlier.
It was late, so they shampooed and soaped up quickly, turning off their showers, and came out to dry. Steve got dressed first, back in loose gym shorts, and a sleeveless t-shirt that revealed the power of his pectorals, biceps and triceps. The young, assistant coach was a muscled monster.
You might as well stay as you are, Mark. We’re going to get right to your session right away, regardless of how late it is, Steve directed.
Are you sure? It’s quite a bit later than usual, Mark commented.
You need it, we both know that. We’ll get it done. Come on, Steve replied, leading the way to the massage table. Mark hustled along behind, resigned to the opinion of his friend, the young, assistant coach, and climbing his skinny-boned body up and spreading out flat on the table top, ready.
Steve began a forceful massage of Mark that had him hissing and huffing air as his bony body was manhandled by the young coach’s ministrations. Near the end, almost every spot on the young teacher’s body had been subjected to pressing, pulsating, palpating massage.
Mark more readily acceded to the forceful, physical manipulations all over his quite thin, lean body, while awaiting the final steps that concluded each session. Having become used to being bare all the time, in the controlling hands of his masseuse-coach, Mark had become more used to anal, prostate stimulations provoking erections and ejaculations.
More recently, in the last two weeks, he had come to expect, accepting, the internal, vibrating prostate simulator inserted into his anal canal; and also being taken from the table, over coach Steve White’s knees, to have his nude, narrow, little butt paddled and spanked while undergoing the vibrational prostate stimulation within him.
Each new step in the rolfing-massage regimen had greater, more intense, and surprising effects on the young teacher. Combined together, they produced more serial, awesome orgasms that jarred and jolted him to his mental, emotional, and sexual roots.
Each new step in the rolfing-massage regimen was weirdly, but increasingly, addictive, as the gaunt young teacher craved the purging relief each climax delivered. That inevitably overrode his hesitancy, misgivings, and denunciatory feelings.
In the run up to the end of classes, and final exams, for inexplicable reasons, Mark felt extra restless, tense, and nervous, sad, uncertain, and confused. Why was this happening? He had no idea.
While the tranquilizing purge of his frustrations, horniness and sexual hunger, and tensions and stresses yielded wonderful, temporary liberation; he never completely freed himself from the feelings of doubt and guilt over what he was doing, and allowing to be done to him.
The entire rolfing session had Mark succumbing to the molding, softening, melting effects on his muscles, joints, nerves. He was wilting under the force of the massage, yet had learned to lie in place, waiting, submitting to each stage, each step in the process.
Always slightly disturbed at the entrance and startup of the vibrating prostate simulator, he was no longer scandalized by it happening. Instead, he lie there, unable to refrain from squirming and twisting, but with his eyes closed, allowing himself to float on the waves of stimulations.
Of course, the unrelenting stirring of his internal, erotic passions from the constant contact with his prostate drove straight to his rod, triggering one erection after another, leading to one climax after another.
Even as each, successive one took longer and more persistence to achieve the same result, the overall, after effects were increasingly overwhelming, until his focus and concentration were wholly fragmented in the throes of the overriding orgasms.
Although he felt a bit reluctant and uneasy before each session; at the end of the barrage of explosive, orgasmic blasts, he was not only spent and weary, but relieved and at peace. Of course, he no longer just reached those lying on the table under the press of the internal simulator.
Steve grabbed Mark by his lean hips, yanking him up off the table, placing him over his lap. Wielding the paddle or brush (as the young coach chose), Steve White fired up his younger friend’s mounds and thighs, as the younger man shrieked in pain, yet also mewling in bliss with each ejaculative blast.
By now, Steve and Mark were pretty well acquainted with each other. One was deliverer, the other was recipient. The effects, as usual, consumed the young teacher, exhausting him into fully surrendered depletion of everything from which he sought release and delivery.
So, late on Monday evening, when assistant coach White added still another element to the conclusive procedures, Mark’s reaction, real and surprised, was nevertheless mild and softened from the already de-energized condition he was in.
The simulator continued its incessant, erotic incitement; and Steve White was raising the intensity by the infliction of spanked pain with sexual passion; when he added something more. His left hand reached down, grasping and encircling the young teacher’s, sticking, hyper-sensitive, engorged tool, sliding through and around in the hand to ratchet the delirious delight still higher.
Mark squealed, reacting by writhing and bucking on Steve’s lap. That resulted in raising his rump upward, presenting a more ready, available target for the paddle to inflict spanks on.
In the distant past, his girlfriend had often applied those touches and intimate motions to bring him to climax and satisfaction, short of intercourse; but he had never been touched there by a man. The shock was disturbing, but also heightening the expurgating effects on him.
He could not help jerking and bucking around, not only from the spanks scorching his bottom, but now the foreign feeling fondling his todger. The overall result was to jack him to higher levels of intensity that summoned climaxes from deep within him.
He was humping the hand holding onto him, while one blasting smack after another blistered his rump and thighs, and the internal stimulator drove him from his prostate to his steely, slick tool. Shortly, he screeched in a high-pitched voice new to the sessions, before erupting violently, his whole body spasming and trembling under the compound of sexual stimulations.
Steve continued the process for a fifth and final ejaculation, and Mark collapsed as he discharged an unimagined fifth load of semen, dropping and dangling limp across his masseuse’s lap. The bigger, strong assistant coach reached under the spent, young teacher, lifted him up and placed him back on the table, on his back, butt and legs up.
Mark was shaking, heaving, crying without inhibition, but also completely subdued and passive, lying
resistless as the assistant coach turned off the prostate stimulator. Washing down his subject’s legs, genitals, abdomen, and chest, and standing above him, the young, coach friend asked,
So how do you feel now, Mark?
Not able to look up at his older friend more than with furtive glances, the wrung out young teacher replied.
Oh, ah, I, do-on’t know, ah, I mean, I’m totally depleted, without energy, tension, or worries. It’s, ah, beyond comprehension, I mean like something I could never have, um, imagined, ah, free. I love that.
But, Steve, at the same time, it doesn’t feel right, ah, like that small voice deep inside keeps telling me I’m bad, doing something wrong. I hate that, though.
Well, as late as it is, maybe we’re not done here, Steve replied.
You need to let it all go, everything, Mark. So, another treatment is called for.
He turned on the still-intruding vibrating stimulator, and Mark’s face registered the aghast surprise at being immediately subject to the vibrating probe’s incessant stimulation of his prostate. To his bewildered cognition, he found his presumed empty manhood tingling and growing, slowly, unwillingly at first, then eagerly, hungrily, to erect, engorged condition.
See, young man, in these early stages, you just need more to drive you over the edge: no worries, no regrets, no second-guessing, nothing but maximum pleasure and release, and relief.
Come on, you’re back over my knees, Steve urged as his strong arms lifted the hyper thin young teacher up off the table and placed him back across the young coach’s lap. He picked up and quickly resumed
the rapid-fire delivery of the young teacher’s second spanking of that night’s session.
Mark moaned, groaned, and began bawling and blubbering again, more like a sad, sorry, young boy, but emotionally crushed notwithstanding. When Steve again grasped the young teacher’s bone again, sliding and pumping the rod all the while supplying a blistering spanking, something snapped in the younger man’s head.
Oh, ah, ah, oh, awwww-uh-uh-ooo-ah-ah-huh-uh-whuh-uht’s-uh-huh-appening-uh-to-ou-ah-meeeee! Oh, ah, noooo-ah-uh-uh-yuh-esss-huh-uh-uh-aaaa-yeaaaaaah! he shouted with abandon as he exploded a climax so forceful, so violent, he felt like his momentarily stiffened body was being launched into space.
Steve continued the spanking for another few minutes, until Mark was wildly crying out in frantic, despairing abdication of everything else. He had fully surrendered.
Oh, my God! Whuh-uht-is-happening?! Whuh-uht is thisss! I cuh-can’t-uh-thingk! Oooo-haugh-uhaugh-uh-uh-waaa-uh-waaa-uh-oh-uh-nooooo-uh-waaaa! His weeping sounded like sobs of relief, and of joy.
When the super-wild emotions of the second licking peaked and began their descent, Mark, fully acquiescent allowed himself to be lifted and place back on the table for the second time. Rolled onto his face and stomach, he accepted being re-dressed as his clothes were pulled up on him.
Slowly and malleable, he let his spent, lean body be slid off the table, to be supported by his stronger,
bigger, friend who walked Mark to his car. As he helped the young teacher get in behind the wheel, Steve instructed,
Go straight come, drive carefully, and head straight to bed, Mark. Take the full night’s rest you need. You’ll be amazed tomorrow!
Mark looked up at the young coach with dazed eyes, nodding. Steve reached in an belted his younger friend into the driver’s seat, before the young teacher drove off.
It was after 9 p.m., when Mark drove up to the Strauss house. He staggered slowly from his car to the door, unlocked and opened it, and locked it behind him.
Walking toward the small hallway, he was addressed by his landlord who observed the bony, thin, young man shuffling toward his apartment.
Hey, Mark! How are you, young mister? What brings you in so late? I’d kept a supper waiting for you? Did you eat?
Ooooaaa, Muh-ister, Strauss. Thanks, ah, buh-uht I’m really dead tired. I’m headed to bed. Talk with you, ah, tomorrow, ah, sir.
Are you okay, Mark? Mr. Strauss inquired suspicious of his young tenant’s condition.
Have you been drinking, young man?
Oooo-ah-nooo, sir, ah, just, ah, worn out, that’s all, ah, I promise. I just wanna go to bed, please, sir.
Okay, then. Goodnight, Mark.
G’night, sir, Mark replied, unlocking and opening his apartment door. Locking the door behind him, he stumbled to the bathroom to empty his bladder, stripping off all his clothes on his way to his bed, where he slid in under the sheet and blanket, spreading out flat and widely prone on the mattress. In minutes, he was gone, out cold, all night long.
He slept until after 7 a.m., jolting up to hasten in getting ready for the day. He put on a pot of coffee before showering.
A hasty shave and shampoo, could not bar the flashes of memories of what he had undergone, experienced the night before. His young manhood demanded recognition, which he readily gave it.
In the shower, he found himself whistling. He felt so different, almost like a different person. Dressing quickly, he realized how baggy his trim-fit clothes were on his skeletal frame.
Putting a small bowl of oatmeal in the microwave, he quickly devoured it, pouring himself a second cup of coffee, while emptying the carafe into a thermo-tumbler to take along with him. Racing out of his apartment after locking it, he ran out the front door to his car, and sped off to Chatham High School.
This was the last week before finals. His classes had final exams all day the following Monday, and his first year of teaching would be done! He could feel it, although he could not explain it. He felt enthusiastic, almost happy, for the first time in a very long time.
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