I walked into the back-room studio already half-hard. The guy on the site had posted one photo: thick forearms, black leather cuffs hanging from a massage table, and the caption “no safe word needed if you can’t speak.” I booked the slot.
He opened the door in nothing but black shorts. Sweat already glistened on his chest. “Strip and get on the table face down,” he said. No hello. No small talk. I dropped my clothes on the floor and climbed up. The vinyl was cool against my cock.
He didn’t start with oil. He started with cuffs. Thick padded leather went around each wrist and ankle. He buckled them tight, then clipped the short chains to the table legs so my arms were stretched out and my legs spread wide. My balls hung exposed. My hole was already open to the air. He gave my right ass cheek a hard slap that made the table shake. “Stay still or I add more rope.”
Warm oil hit my back in thick streams. His hands followed, rough and heavy, working the oil into my shoulders, down my spine, over my ribs. Every time he reached my lower back he dug his thumbs in and spread my cheeks wider. The next pour landed right on my crack. Oil slid down over my hole and dripped off my balls. He rubbed it in with two fingers, slow circles, then pushed one finger straight in. No warning. Just the sudden stretch and the wet sound of oil being forced deeper.
I grunted. He added a second finger and started pumping. “Tight little fuckhole,” he muttered. “Gonna open you up before I tie your cock too.” He kept fingering me while his other hand reached under and grabbed my dick. He wrapped a thin leather strap around the base and balls, pulled it snug, then clipped a small weight to the strap so my balls hung lower and heavier. Every time I breathed the weight tugged.
He climbed onto the table behind me, knees between my spread thighs. I heard the cap of the oil bottle again. Cold liquid poured directly onto my hole. Then the blunt head of his cock pressed against me. He didn’t ease in. He shoved. One long thrust buried him balls-deep. The cuffs rattled as my body tried to jerk forward. He grabbed my hips and started fucking like he was trying to break the table. Hard, wet slaps filled the room. Oil and precum squelched out around his cock every time he bottomed out.
He reached under me, found the weight on my balls, and gave it a little swing while he pounded. The tug and the stretch made my cock leak onto the vinyl. I was drooling onto the table, eyes half-shut, nothing but the feeling of being split open and used.
After a few minutes he pulled out. I felt empty and gaping. He unclipped my ankles, flipped me onto my back, and re-cuffed my wrists above my head. My legs he left free for now. He poured more oil over my chest and stomach, then straddled my waist.
His cock, still slick, slid between my oiled pecs. He fucked my chest while one hand reached back and shoved three fingers back into my hole. Every thrust forward made his cockhead bump my chin. I opened my mouth and he fed it to me on the next stroke, letting me taste the oil and my own ass.
He pulled out of my mouth and moved down. This time he hooked my knees over his elbows and folded me in half. The cuffs on my wrists kept my arms pinned. He sank back into my ass in one smooth motion and started grinding deep, rolling his hips so the head of his cock rubbed that spot inside me over and over. My cock, still strapped and leaking, bounced against my stomach with every thrust.
He reached between us, wrapped his oily fist around my dick, and started jerking me in time with his fucking. The strap around the base kept me rock hard and aching. “You’re gonna come with my cock buried in you,” he growled. “Then I’m gonna fill this hole while you’re still twitching.”
It didn’t take long. The combination of the deep pounding, the tight strap, and his rough hand pushed me over. I shot hard, ropes hitting my own chest and chin. My ass clamped down around him. He kept fucking me straight through it, using the extra tightness until his rhythm broke. He slammed in one last time and stayed there, pulsing, pumping cum deep while my hole milked him.
When he finally pulled out, thick white cum mixed with oil ran out of me and down my crack onto the table. He wiped some up with two fingers and pushed it back inside, then wiped the rest across my lips. I licked it off without being told.
He unbuckled the cuffs but left the ball strap on. “Shower’s through there,” he said. “Come back next week. I’ve got rope next time.”
I stood up on shaky legs, cum still leaking down my thigh, already knowing I’d book the slot before I even left the building.
