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Masseurs Gone Wild: The Wrestling Champions

Here’s the beginning of Masseurs Gone Wild: The Wrestling Champions, a brand-new tale by Happiest Ending and the conclusion to the Masseurs Gone Wild series!

 

When Mansur dragged Ethan’s hand to his cock, he growled and snorted like he didn’t like it, even though he was the one who did it. He closed his eyes. Ethan wasn’t entirely sure he was supposed to jack Mansur off. That seemed right, except that Mansur had a face like he didn’t want it.
He had also implied he wouldn’t allow that, back when he first showed up for his massage. Ethan was the only male masseur at the Tophaul Massage Parlor, so he sometimes got clients who were annoyed they didn’t have a woman. Mansur was such a client.
He scowled when he came in, and looked back out in the hall.

“Where is the Chinese woman?” he asked with a crude, British-inflected voice.
“She’s with another client,” Ethan said. He motioned for him to get up on the table.
Mansur was a thick-bodied, barrel-chested Turkish man. He had a hairy torso and a dense beard, and he wore a fez above a Turkish men’s suit. He didn’t look like he was used to dressing in nice clothes. He shifted his weight uncomfortably in them as he came into the room. People didn’t usually dress so formally at a massage parlor.
“I do not want to do anything gay,” Mansur said with a sneer.
“Oh. Okay.”
“I am here for the tournament,” he said. “My coach has warned me of America. There is too much gay here.”
“I see,” Ethan said. He had already guessed that Mansur was here for the tournament. This city was home to the International Wrestling Tournament right now, so the streets were crawling with hot muscle-bound foreigners. Ethan was excited to think he was starting to get them in his massage parlor.
He was disappointed, however, that Mansur did not want a happy ending. He awkwardly stood there and waited while Mansur took off his clothes. He quietly removed everything — most men needed encouragement to take off their clothes in front of Ethan, but Mansur didn’t seem to care. He folded his jacket, shirt, pants, and even his tie and socks. His folding was awkward though, like he had little experience with it but knew he was supposed to do it.
When he dropped his briefs (hairy men in tight briefs were so sexy Ethan thought, trying not to be obvious as he checked out Mansur’s package), Mansur hopped up onto the massage table. He had a massive, uncut cock that flopped against his thigh.
Again, that was unusual. The vast majority of American men were reluctant to get naked and then when they did, covered their crotches. When they got up on the table, they laid on their belly to cover up their cock and balls, and because it was generally assumed that massages would be focused on the back and shoulders.
But Mansur apparently expected Ethan to work on his chest. Ethan used warming, scented oil, and Mansur groaned as Ethan began to knead his flesh.

First-Time Jocks Get a Happy Ending: A Wrestler Tradition

Here’s a sample from the beginning of First-Time Jocks Get a Happy Ending: A Wrestler Tradition, a new story by Happiest Ending!

 

Every year, the wrestling team told their new freshmen about the “happy ending tradition”. They were told that they had to get a “happy ending” from Charlie, the team masseur and physical therapist. He used to work in a massage parlor nearby, but now just worked directly for the team. He was available after every game and every practice — and at many other times, depending on his schedule.

It wasn’t really a rule, at least not one that anybody enforced. The seniors told the freshmen it was a rule. But it wasn’t like the seniors monitored everyone’s cocks to see who got handjobs from whom, and Charlie refused to say. He claimed medical confidentiality. So no one had any way of knowing who had done it and who hadn’t.

But the freshmen only figured that out gradually. When the seniors told them it was required in September, the ones who were comfortable with it did it right away. The rest put it off and eventually forgot or pretended they had already done it. The seniors occasionally asked for updates on who had done it, but they never had any way of checking.

So when the freshman Delroy showed up after one practice, Charlie felt duty-bound to tell him he didn’t have to go through with it.

“They won’t check, man, and I promise I’ll tell them you did it if they ask,” Charlie said.

“Really? Oh holy shit, thanks, man,” Delroy beamed. His tangled mop of brown hair was plastered to his forehead with sweat. His singlet was soaked too, crumpled on the floor, his youthful muscles bulging through the fabric. Delroy was a freshman, but he had been a poor student his whole life and had failed two years of grade-school (held back in fifth and eighth grade), so he was older and much bigger than other freshmen. He had a tuft of coarse black chest hair that just barely poked out from his singlet when he wore it — Charlie fantasized about sucking on that bit of chest hair every time he saw Delroy in the singlet.

Charlie felt a pang of regret: He had a feeling he could have told Delroy anything was mandatory and he’d have done it. He kneaded Delroy’s muscled shoulders. When he gave a massage, he didn’t much think about sex, even if the men he massaged were sexy — he was a professional, and he did it so often that it didn’t feel sexy.

But Delroy had been talking about sex and generally making it hard to avoid thinking about it. His pre-shower post-practice musk filled the air, making it difficult for Charlie to focus.

“I was gonna try to find you tonight, like see if I could come to your place,” Delroy said with a groan as Charlie worked a knot out of his back. “I’m getting drunk at the Halloween party tonight. I thought I could get a blowjob from a gay dude if I was drunk.”

“Uh-huh,” Charlie said. “You know it doesn’t have to be a blowjob?”

“What? I’m not doing anal.” He scoffed.

“No, I mean a handjob.”

“Oh. Really?”

“Yep.” Charlie nodded though Delroy’s eyes were closed so he didn’t see.

Delroy fidgeted on his back, eyes closed. His fingers rubbed each other and he shifted his weight. Charlie had to suppress a giggle.

“Really? Just a handjob?” It sounded like he didn’t believe it.

“Yeah, that’s all they expect. That’s what a ‘happy ending’ is,” Charlie said.

“Oh… Is that… ? I mean, like… you’re gay, right?”

“Yes.”

“So do you…?” He blushed. “I mean… do you like… want to?”

“What?”

“Sorry, I don’t know what gays are into. I mean, dudes. I know that. Gays are into dudes. But like… do you like giving handjobs?”

“I do.”

“Why?” He laughed and blushed. He opened his eyes and looked down over his expansive chest. He still wore his jockstrap, which was dingy gray. His cock twitched. “Sorry.”

“Delroy, do you want a handjob?”

He bit his lip. “I mean… I ain’t think you would do that. I guess I thought you’d make me put it in your mouth. I can’t do that. That’s too gay. Okay? Don’t do that.” He paused. “Yeah. Yes. You can jack me off.”