The Deep House

Nicky Noxville

All my stories take place in a parallel world, very similar to our own, where STI’s do not exist, so my stories are filled with practices that are highly unsafe in this world. I’m not going to say don’t try this at home, but take care of yourself.

All my characters are of legal age, and you should be, too—do not read my stories if you are under the legal age in your country/area. Any resemblance to real persons, locations, or events is entirely coincidental.

This story is brought to you by my wonderful Patrons. I love you guys!

And now, our feature presentation…

“Where the fuck are we going, Weston?” I asked my little cousin, annoyed that I couldn’t drive myself…  Weston wouldn’t let me drive his car now that I’d totaled mine.

“It’s this really nice spa I went to after I got rear-ended on my birthday.  Your mom paid for it.  Crappy eighteenth birthday, but it was the best massage I’ve ever had.”

“I’ve never had a massage, because it’s gay,” I muttered, slumping back in the passenger seat and watching the thick greenery roll by.  “Jesus, this place is in the middle of butt-fuck nowhere.”

“It’s for privacy,” my cousin said with great dignity.  I reached up and started rubbing at my neck.

“Why do I have to get a damn massage anyway?” I asked, again.

“I’m paying for it, so stop complaining.  Look, we’re here,” he said turning onto a paved side-road.  The trees parted, and a large building was revealed that reminded me of an old western saloon.  I looked at the sign over the front doors and raised an eyebrow.

“The Deep House?” I asked, incredulous.  “If you’re trying to convince me that this isn’t gay you—”

“It’s because it’s so deep out here and they specialize in deep tissue massages.  Just shut up and go in.  I’m not the idiot who drove drunk and crashed into a tree,” he snapped at me, clearly annoyed by my complaining.

“It’s not like I killed anyo—” I cut off, my stomach falling at the look that spread across Weston’s face.  “Fuck, dude, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean…”  I didn’t know what to say.  Weston had come to live with us when he was eight after his mom died.

Killed by a drunk driver.

Like a switch had been flipped, it occurred to me that this might even be harder on Weston than it was on me.

“It’s fine,” he said after taking a deep breath.  “Just go inside and be grateful you crashed on our property and the police weren’t involved.”  Wordlessly I got out of his car.  No sooner had I closed the door than he tore off, disappearing back into the trees.  I turned back toward the building.

“What a gay name,” I said to no one.  “The Deep House, pfft.  More like the faggot house.”  I stood there for a few moments, realizing what I’d just said and that I was stuck here and had to go inside.  I puffed up my chest and started marching toward the covered porch.

“Welcome to The Deep House,” a cute receptionist said in a bubbly voice from behind the desk as I walked through the heavy, wood double doors.  The outside may have looked like a saloon, but the inside looked like a palace.

“Daaaamn,” I said, my eyes darting around at the walls paneled in rich, dark wood, the velvet drapes, the tapestries, and the fine oil paintings—many of which depicted nude figures.  The girl behind the counter giggled.

“We get that a lot.  Everyone coming out here is coming here anyway, so we focused on interior decorating and a functional exterior.  I’m Marcy, and I’m guessing that you must be,” her eyes flicked down to a computer screen, “Rocco Thornton.”

“That’s me,” I said, leaning in smoothly and giving her my best panty-dropping smile.  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Marcy,” I offered my hand and she shook it.  I squeezed, not too tight, and held onto her hand for a few extra seconds.

“Likewise, Rocco,” she smiled up at me, and I chubbed up in my pants.

“Are you the masseuse?” I asked, making it clear that I would like for her to be, and stretched just a little too far. “Ow,” I gasped, grabbing my neck again.

“Oh, dear,” she said in concern.  “Wessy said you’d been in a car accident, you poor dear.  No, unfortunately I’m not a massage therapist, but I promise you that I set you up with our most skilled therapist, Immanuel Castillo.” 

It was hard not to laugh when she called Weston “Wessy.”  I’d have to use that in the future.

“Immanuel…” I muttered.  “Is… Isn’t that a dude’s name?”

“Yes, it is,” she answered, still smiling at me.

“I, uh, I’d rather it be a woman,” I protested.  Her face fell.

“I’m sorry, but there aren’t any female therapists available today.  Your massage has already been scheduled and paid for, and we have a no cancellation policy.”  She scratched her chin, and then her face lit up.  “I have an idea—you get the massage your cousin paid for, and if you aren’t 100% satisfied, I’ll give YOU the money back. We might not refund for cancellations, but we do guarantee your satisfaction.”  She winked at me.  “What Wessy doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”

“It’s hard to argue with that,” I laughed, following her back into a massage room.

Which is how I found myself laying on my back on a massage table, naked, with nothing but a small sheet draped across my pelvic region.  I could feel the table shaking as my feet twitched nervously.  I was this close to getting up and leaving when the door opened.

“Mr. Thornton?” A tall, muscular man in black scrubs asked as he walked into the room.

“Uh, Rocco, please,” I responded, lifting my head to look at him.

“I am Immanuel Castillo, your therapist for today, but please, Rocco, call me Manny,” he said as he moved into the room and started setting things up for the massage.  “I understand that you were in a car accident and are in need of a deep massage?”

“I, uh, yeah,” I agreed, still feeling awkward with just the sheet to cover myself.

“Don’t worry, it’s very common.  Car accidents can put a lot of strain on the body, even if you are not noticeably injured.  My specialty is getting in deep and fixing the problem, don’t you worry.  Here,” he turned and pressed a button, and the little room filled with relaxing, classical music.  He stood over me and I watched as he poured oil into his palm and rubbed it between his hands before letting his fingertips come to rest on my shoulders. 

I tensed, uncomfortable with another man touching me.

“Just relax, Rocco.  Close your eyes, think about something peaceful, and pretend I am not here,” he instructed.  I took a deep breath, forcing my body to relax, and closed my eyes.  His oil-slick hands slid across my shoulders, applying as much pressure as he could short of causing pain.

It… It felt…  It felt good!

Whatever that oil was, it was tingling as he spread it over my neck and shoulders, and my skin was getting warm.  I took a deep breath and relaxing became easier.  He spread the oil down my arms, over my hands, down my chest, down my abs, down, down… He stopped just before I was going to react, just short of touching my junk, and moved down to the bottom of the table, starting on my feet and legs, working the oil over my skin, his fingers releasing tension from muscles all the way up, up, up.

He’s going to touch my balls!

My eyes snapped open, but he stopped just in times, his fingers swirling on my inner thighs.

“You’ve got a lot of tension.  I think I need to go deeper. Roll over onto your front for me, please, Rocco,” he said in a soft, calm voice.  I was so warm and relaxed that I just went with it, rolling over onto my stomach.  The sheet that had been draped over my hips somehow slipped free and fell to the floor, and I looked back over my shoulder at him in panic, the pale flesh of my ass gleaming in the dim light.

“I!  I’m sorry!” I said quickly, blushing.

“Don’t worry about it.  You have a lot of tension in your body.  Besides, I can give you a deeper massage without the sheet in the way.”

A deeper massage, yeah, that sounds good.

I let my head settle into the little recess at the front of the table.  I saw his feet come into view, and then he started working the oil over my shoulders and back.

“Ohhhhhhhhh,” I sighed, my eyes drifting close as I relaxed into the table, and into his touch.

“Feel good?” He asked, though his tone left little doubt that he knew the answer already.

“Yesss,” I hissed.  “You’re really good at this, Manny,” I complemented him as his hands moved down, down down.

“Thank you,” he said, his swirling fingers teasing over the line and onto the top of my ass cheeks before he stopped and moved down my feet, working up the backside of my legs.  I gasped as his fingers moved up the inside of my legs, forcing them wider.  He got closer and closer and closer to my nuts until I felt just the faintest brush at the end of my pubes, and then he took his hands away, leaving me laying there, relaxed, listening to the music, and breathing deep.

“Oops,” Manny said as I felt oil splash along the crack of my ass, dripping down to pool at the base of my spine in one direction, and dripping down over my balls in the other.  “I poured a little too much oil, I apologize.”

“’S okay,” I forgave him, taking delight as the oil sent tingles running through my crack and bursting from my balls.  I’d never felt anything like it in my life.  My eyes snapped open, unseeing, as I felt his oiled-up hands start to rub and knead my ass cheeks, swirling, rubbing, squeezing, sending tingling waves of heat through my pale backside.

“I think I need to go deeper,” he said again.

“Yeeeeah,” I sighed.  “Deeper.”

His fingers started to slide into my crack, invading the virgin space between my cheeks, spreading the oil over every inch of my crack.  He swept the oil pooled at the base of my spine down and into my crack, guiding it down, over my hole, and then letting it drip down over my nuts as he took his hands away.  That was when it hit me.

I’m hard!  Good thing I’m on my stomach so he can’t see!

“Oh, here,” he said, as if he’d just noticed something, and then I felt a splash of oil fall across the belly of my erection.

Oh no!  It’s pointing down!  He knows I’m hard!  Fuuuuuck, that oil!

My cock was throbbing, tingling, and burning with the same heat that had so excited the rest of my skin.  More oil drizzled over my nuts, coating them and clinging to the hairs, and then he criss-crossed my dick with more oil, sending a gurgling moan churring from my lungs.

“I think I need to go deeper,” he said again.

“Yeah!  Go deeeeeperrrrr,” I purred.  The deeper he went, the better the massage was feeling!  “Oooooo!” I moaned as I felt his fingers start sliding and sweeping over my asshole, gliding through the slick oil that coated it, making me moan helplessly. Making my cock throb harder as oil dripped and pooled under it.  He wasn’t going inside me, just rubbing my hole.

“Aww, yeah, rubbbinnnggggg,” I droaned, ready for him to go deeper.  “Go deeeeperrrrrrr.”

“Okay, I’ll go deeper.  That’s my job, after all.  First, roll onto your back again for a few seconds.”  I obeyed, the world spinning around me until I was on my back, my oil coated erection slapping up against my belly, sending droplets of oil flying.  My head was against the table, rolling back and forth, my eyes closed.  I was so hard.

“Aah!” I thrashed on the table as I felt him thump the head of my cock and then grab it in a vice like grip, forcing down my erection.  “What are you doing?” I squealed, the stupor I was in retreating a little.

“Look,” he began, letting go of my now flaccid penis.  “I’m a professional.  I can’t have you cumming from your deep massage, now, can I?” he asked, working my balls and then my shaft through a cold, metal ring of some sort as he spoke.  “I could get fired.”  He pushed more cold metal down onto my flaccid shaft.  I was filling the space, and still he kept pushing until I felt it click against the metal ring that was tight around my junk.  He adjusted things, and then I heard a lock click into place.  I lifted my head and looked down, my eyes going wide as I saw that he had stuffed my penis into this tiny metal chastity device, reducing my erection to a little, metal nub.

“What?” I struggled against the tingling and the fog, utterly confused by the tiny chastity device that had visually removed my manhood.

“Relax, you don’t want me to get fired, do you?  Just roll back onto your front and get ready for me to go even deeper,” he ordered.

“Yesssss! Go deeeeper!” I succumbed and rolled over onto my stomach, ready for this wonderful massage to continue.  I could feel the little metal nub press into the soft surface beneath me, not even big enough to be an obstacle.  I spread my legs as far as I could on the table, feeling cool air on my exposed nuts.  More oil drizzled over my sack, and then up and over my ass.  He started on the outside again, swirling his hands over my cheeks, spiraling inward until he was sliding into my crack and circling my hole.  I could feel it quiver and relax, ready for him to go deeper.  He chuckled, and I felt him hold my cheeks apart with one hand, and start drizzling oil right into my hole, sending that tingling warmth spreading through my insides.

Fingers immediately followed the oil.  I couldn’t even tell how many.  The were rubbing, writhing, and snaking inside and out of me, stretching my asshole even wider open as I relaxed onto the massage table. 

I could feel my penis wanting to get hard, but the cage was smaller than I was flaccid, so there was no way for it to happen.  Denied my penis, I shifted more and more attention to the pleasure his fingers were giving me.

“Ohhhhwoooahhhhwoaaaahhhwoooooaaahhhhhhh,” I churred as his fingers pressed and tugged at my hole, stretching it open.

“I need to go deeper,” he said, his fingers freezing in place, holding me wide open, but no longer rubbing, pressing, teasing.  I tried to wiggle my hips, wanting the delights of this massage to continue, but he moved his hands with me, keeping his fingers in place.

“Go deeeeeeeper!” I squealed, shamelessly begging.  He laughed, and pulled his hands away, his fingers sliding out of me.  “Nooooo, come baaaack!  Deeeeeep!” I whined, going silent when I felt him climb up onto the table on top of me.  I knew he had been wearing scrubs, but I didn’t feel them.  What I felt pressing against me was flesh.

More burning flesh pressed against my relaxed hole, circling, teasing, making me arch my back and moan.

“Time for that deeeep tissue massage,” he said.  “This is just what you need.”  He thrust in, slowly, smoothly, unrelenting.

“Awww neeeeeed it!  Deeep!  Oh, yeah, deep! Need it deep!”  It kept coming, going deeper, and deeper, and deeper and then he was laying on top of me, pressing me down into the massage table.

“That’s as deep as it gets,” he growled in my ear.  “Now all we can do is harder.”

Harder?

He started to pull his cock out, and I groaned in distracted disappointment as my brain was overcome with thoughts of him going deep again, but harder.

And I liked it.

“Harder!” I gasped as he slid his cock back into me a little faster, a little harder.  I was ready! 

I need a really hard, deep massage!

He pulled back out and then slid in again, only slightly harder.  Again, and again, and again, harder each time, but I still needed more

“Unnnn, haaaarrrrderrrr!” I moaned out loud as he punched his cock into me.

“Harder?” He repeated.  “Sure, if you want.”  He pulled out and slammed forward again, noticeably harder.

“Ohhhhh, yeeeaahhhh, haaaaarder!” I moaned again, hoping that it would happen again.  Sure enough, he slammed into my ass even harder.

“Haaarder!” I pleaded!  “Fuck me harder!”  I felt him shift, and then I was seeing stars as he started punch-fucking my ass with as much force as he could bring to bear, his balls slapping against mine with each violent thrust.

It was too much!

It was too good!

“Awww, ggggg-gggggunnnaaa c-c-c-cuuuuummmmm!”  I cried out as I felt strange, yet familiar, new sensations swelling inside me.  It was like a regular orgasm, only different.  It was better, and it was in my ass.  When it was over, he slowed down a little.

“You didn’t really cum,” he growled down at me.  “You can’t cum while you’re locked up.  That was just your clit squirting from getting your pussy fucked.

What! Clit?  Pussy?

“Cliiiiiiiiit!” I squeaked out loud as he picked up the pace again, going back to violently punch-fucking me.   “Awwwwww, it’s gonna happen again!  My clit’s gonna squirt again!” I squealed and quivered beneath his weight.  He didn’t slow down, he just laughed and kept fucking me.

Hard.

Deep.

My pussy.

My clit.

“Ohhhhhnoooo, you keep making me do it!  Uhhnnnnnggg, yesssssss, haaarrrrrdddd! Oh-oh-oh, unnnn, ohnooo, my clit aggggggggggggg,” I trailed off into gurgles, drool running from my lips and dripping down to the plush carpet below.

“I’m going to cum in your pussy now,” he panted in my ear.  “Yeah, here it comes!  I’m going to fill that pussy up!”

“Yesss, cum in my pussssssssy!” I begged.  He buried himself inside me, moaning, and I could feel his cum spreading through my guts, like the oil before, only better.  Waves of pleasure were bursting inside me, and my clit was throbbing in the little cage as best it could, leaking and dribbling with each overwhelming wave of pleasure.

“Ahh, there we go, all done.  How do you feel now?” He asked, climbing off me.  I rolled over onto my back and lifted onto my elbows, looking down at my caged cock and the dribbles of clear fluid that were running from the hole in the end.

“I feel good,” I answered, settling back onto the table again.  I reached down.  My fingers paused, feeling the metal nub, and then continued down between my legs as I lifted and spread them.  I could feel his cum leaking from me, and was able to slip four fingers right in.

“Now now,” he scolded me, “I know it feels good to play with your pussy, but I have other clients who need deep massages, so you’ll have to save it for when you get home.”  I groaned, reluctantly pulling my fingers out of my pussy and sitting up.  “I’ll give you a few minutes to get dressed…”

“How was it?” Marcy asked with a knowing smile on her face.  “Did Manny take good care of you?”  She was looking at my crotch like she knew the cage was there, taking in the flat denim at the front of my jeans.

“Yeah,” I said, a stupid smile spreading across my own face as I thought about how good it felt for Manny to go deep.

“So you’re 100% satisfied, Roccy?” She asked.

Roccy! 

Before I could answer, I felt it happening again, even without Manny deep inside me.  My thighs squeezed together, but I was helpless to stop the flood of cum that ran from my cage in a pathetic stream to darken the denim around my crotch.  All the while she watched, her smile growing with the stain.

“Yessssssss!” I squealed and moaned girlishly.  “Uhhh, so goooood!”

“So glad to hear it.  Wessy should be waiting for you in the parking lot.”  I nodded and turned, walking out of the building with most of my attention still on my empty pussy.  Wessy rolled down the window as I walked up.  I focused my attention on him and noticed that he was grinning, like Marcy had been.

“Get in, Roccy,” he said.  Hearing my own little cousin call me that caused more pleasure to explode inside my pussy, making its way to my clit and causing the wet spot on the front of my pants to grow even larger.  I stumbled forward, legs quivering weakly, and climbed in, trying to ignore the sound of my cousin’s laughter.

To read all my stories, photo captions, and more, please visit www.nickynoxville.com

If you enjoy my writing, please consider becoming a supporter. Visit https://nickynoxville.carrd.co/ to find out more.

Copyright 2019