My physio touched me where no one ever had

My name is Daniel, and this year I decided to get back some of the time fatherhood had stolen from me for over a decade. Between work and the kids, there simply wasn’t a single spare moment for me. I had given up sport and let myself go, devoured by the impossible schedule of my three children.

The company medical checkup gave me the perfect excuse. My cholesterol and triglycerides were through the roof, and suddenly I had a reason to claim a couple of hours a week that would be just mine.

The doctor recommended swimming, but I hate water. The way your father teaches you to swim by throwing you into the sea until instinct pushes you to float didn’t work for me. I can look after myself, I’m from the coast, but don’t ask me to do twenty lengths in a row. One office colleague insisted so much about crossfit that I ended up signing up at a box near home.

I chose the seven in the morning slot so I could take care of it after dropping the kids off at their thousand activities. Marta, my wife, bet I wouldn’t last even two days getting up early. And yet, religiously, I got up at six thirty and showed up for that workout I’d imagined would be military and which turned out to be much more relaxed than I feared. No one laughed at the ridiculous weights. Even Pablo, the trainer, stopped me when I tried to load more than my battered body advised.

At that hour it was always the same people, with small variations depending on the day. The one who never missed was Rubén, a six-foot-three beast with a body sculpted muscle by muscle. He usually trained near a girl, Noelia, a hottie it was impossible not to look up and down. Her ass was a magnet for my eyes, and with the excuse of paying attention to the technique of the exercises, I ogled more than I should have.

Wanking was my only relief since becoming a father, barely interrupted by the occasional burst of sex in the years when I fathered my children. And it wasn’t as if anything had gone out in me. I’m forty-one, my wife wanted to be a young mother, and we had the first when I was around thirty. Three boys in four years, and no more, because I flat-out refused to keep trying for a girl. I think Marta never forgave me for it. One of her punishments was turning our sex life into a desert.

Crossfit, against all odds, was a success. Right away I noticed the change in my body. I was never fat, but I wasn’t muscular either: the lack of exercise had shaped a soft physique that, with a couple of tweaks to my diet, improved at a speed that surprised me. Everyone noticed it, everyone except Marta.

I started looking at myself in the locker room mirror after showering alone. I could see a bit of chest hair appearing, a line running down to my pubis, the firm thighs I had at twenty. It got me hard to see myself like that, fantasizing that a woman like Noelia might not turn her nose up at a guy like me. More than one wank fell in that shower thinking about that ass.

Improving that much ended up working against me. Too much motivation made me push too hard. One shoulder started hurting and I was constantly carrying tension in my lower back. Pablo advised me to lower the weights and find a physiotherapist. I didn’t know any in the neighborhood, and when I told him, he said Rubén had a clinic a couple of blocks from the box.

I thought about it for a couple of days. I wasn’t thrilled about treating myself with a training partner, in case I didn’t like him and then wouldn’t know how to get out of it. But the discomfort wasn’t easing, so I went to talk to him after class. It was awkward: I had to wait for him to stop flirting with Noelia, and I nearly got hard watching how his huge hand gripped her ass and how she wore a pleased expression when one finger dug between her cheeks.

“Sorry…” I stammered, red with embarrassment at being caught staring. “Pablo told me you’re a physio. That you have a clinic, I mean. And I, well, I’ve got some pain and I didn’t know if…”

I sounded like an idiot, beating around the bush like I was inviting him to the prom.

“If you need a physio, Rubén’s hands are the best,” Noelia cut in, saving me from looking ridiculous.

Rubén didn’t even answer. He grabbed his phone, checked his schedule, and let out a curt “come by today at two.” I didn’t dare tell him that was my lunch break.

***

At exactly two o’clock I was at the clinic door. Rubén greeted me in the typical scrubs worn by healthcare workers. The place was small: a waiting area and two doors, one to the bathroom and one to the treatment room. He sat down himself at the computer to make my file. His manner was abrupt, and that, combined with his physique, was intimidating as hell.

In the treatment room there was only a massage table, a shelf with towels, and a couple of jars of cream. He asked me to strip down to my boxers, never taking his eyes off me. I tried to make conversation, but he barely gave me any opening, so I shut up and finished taking off my clothes clumsily under his gaze.

He took off his white clogs and came over barefoot. The room temperature was pleasant, but having him just a few inches away made my skin prickle. He had me do certain movements while he palpated me with those huge hands. He didn’t ask where it hurt; he seemed to have a gift for finding the exact knot.

Then he told me to lie face down and started the massage on the worst areas: the shoulders, the lower back, the backs of the thighs. I could only see his bare feet, though I spent almost the whole time with my eyes closed, floating in that strange pleasure you feel between pain and delight. The only uncomfortable thing was the silence, broken only by his breathing and my own groans when he pressed a sore point.

“You’re really tense,” he said at last. “Relax. I know I’m imposing, but in my hands you’re going to improve quickly. I’m not just any physio. I also believe in the energies we transmit to each other. That’s why I go barefoot, so yours can go down into the earth. You’ve gone years without giving yourself even a minute, and the body notices.”

I was surprised to hear that from such a rough-looking guy, but I didn’t want to judge him too quickly.

“I have three kids. Time for myself isn’t exactly something I’ve got to spare.”

“I’ve got two, and that’s no excuse to be so neglected.”

“Thanks,” I said dryly.

“Don’t get me wrong. I saw how you came into the box and how much you’ve improved in no time. You’ve got good genetics, strong legs despite all the years you’ve been out of shape. Now relax and let me handle it.”

He lowered the light and kept going. I didn’t quite fall asleep; the massage was too intense, but I had never felt so relaxed. To finish, he cracked my whole body using his own weight. To loosen my back, he hugged me from behind, crossed my arms over my chest, pressed me against his own body and, after several breaths, made each vertebra crack in turn.

What I hadn’t expected was that, afterward, he wouldn’t let go. When I tried to sit up, a simple click of his mouth made me freeze, feeling his heat seep into me. Even though I’m six feet tall, his bulk made me feel small. A birdlike sound interrupted him: it was the bell, my time was up. He refused to charge me. “If you decide to keep coming, we’ll settle up then,” he said.

***

When I went back to the box, the pain had dropped a lot and I felt renewed energy. I don’t know what he had done to me, but I was training harder than ever. Rubén was still distant; we only exchanged a few words to set another appointment two weeks later.

The routine repeated itself: I went in at midday, stripped down, and he examined me with the same level of detail. His closeness stopped bothering me. It was common for his thighs to brush mine during the massage, and sometimes I felt something against the back of my hand that could only be his cock. I was ashamed to think he might be doing it on purpose, especially because more than once I caught myself imagining its size.

Rubén had memorized my body and celebrated every improvement. My chest was starting to show, the fat on my belly was disappearing, my shoulders and legs were a different story. Those were exactly the areas he devoted the most time to. I focused on his hands, on his fingers sinking in to loosen every knot, while I looked at his big hairy feet imagining they really were taking my bad energy away.

I tried not to pay attention to how he rested his body over my head every time he moved down my back, or to that thick, hot bulge brushing against me. I couldn’t hold back the groans when his hands reached my ass. One day, with total naturalness, he pulled my briefs aside to massage my glutes. I only lifted my hip a little to help him. The first time he put a towel down; the second time he didn’t.

“Daniel, I wasn’t lying about your genetics,” he said, his hands exploring my thighs. “It’s impressive how much you’re progressing.”

“Thanks to you. After your massages I train much harder.”

“Then you should come every week.”

I couldn’t stop a groan when, as he said it, his fingers brushed a place no one had ever touched me before.

***

The discomfort came back, or so I told myself, and my workouts turned into a disaster. I failed at weights I’d previously moved without thinking. At the end of a miserable session, Rubén came into the locker room while I was showering.

“Daniel, this afternoon you’re coming at seven. If you keep going like this you’re going to injure yourself.”

As always, he didn’t wait for an answer. He left me thinking under the water. I couldn’t get the question out of my head: were those brushes as normal as I wanted to believe? Was I letting him touch me in the hope of something more, or was it pure paranoia on my part? Rubén exuded testosterone. It was impossible that a macho like that would like men, and even less a plain guy like me.

The rest of the day I was nervous and aroused. I made up a meeting so Marta wouldn’t suspect anything, like someone hiding a mistress, when the only thing I had was an appointment with my physio. At seven I was at the door. I took a while to ring the bell. When I did, a young girl came out who said goodbye to him with a hug.

“Come in, Daniel. I’m glad you came,” he said, more smiling than usual.

The session started the same way, but this time he devoted more time to each muscle. When he took off my briefs, there was no towel. He began with my feet, lingering longer than ever. I couldn’t suppress the moans of pleasure.

“When you relax, you get very loud,” he joked.

“Man, it’s fucking amazing. I’ve never had a foot massage like that.”

“It’s one of my specialties,” he said casually. “Have you noticed I have a lot of female patients? I’m an expert in perineal massage. A lot of them need it after giving birth, among other things.”

“I had no idea that existed.”

My ignorance amused him. The massage went on in silence. With complete freedom in the face of my passivity, he brushed my testicles and that forbidden spot again and again. I felt his cock resting against my feet or my hands depending on the position, and this time I had no doubt it was almost as hard as I was.

“Turn over,” he ordered, his voice a little rougher.

I obeyed, revealing my erection in all its glory. Rubén went to get a towel and, instead of covering me, carefully folded it and placed it over my eyes. In that vulnerable position, blind and naked, he resumed the route. The chest, the hands, the thighs. I could feel my cock throbbing, moisture showing up when he brushed the perineum.

He positioned my legs half-bent and began to caress the area I desired and feared in equal measure. He worked my belly with one hand and my perineum with the other. He brushed the base without actually grasping me, and his fingers began to explore with a skill that left me breathless. The groans became uncontrollable, and he seemed to take it as a challenge: the more I moaned, the louder he went.

“Relax. This is my specialty,” he whispered at my nerves.

His fingers, now slick with something, went back to work. This time one of them slid inside with a moan that burst out of me from the deepest place. It was obvious he knew what he was doing. I tried to grab at myself several times, overwhelmed by those new sensations, but he always stopped me, concentrating all the pleasure on his finger, which pressed a spot that made me writhe and leak onto my stomach uncontrollably.

The second finger wasn’t long in joining in, multiplying everything. Rubén held me down against the table and only stopped to moisten himself and go deeper.

“You have a beautiful perineum,” he said, like a compliment, as he slid in the third.

I couldn’t answer. The arousal was brutal. Then I exploded without anyone even touching me, covering myself in several spurts. The orgasm left me exhausted, emptied of a tension I had been building for years. Rubén removed the towel from my eyes and began to clean me with a half-smile I had never seen on him before. Under his clothes, the bulge crossing his hip could be made out, confirming that my intuition about his size wasn’t far off.

The massage ended as always, cracking me bone by bone. When he hugged me from behind, pressed against his chest, I felt the heat of his cock against my skin. We stayed like that for several minutes until he decided to let me go.

“You can shower if you want. I could already see you needed to unload a lot of tension.”

I was embarrassed that I’d come so hard from just that. I grabbed my clothes and crossed naked to the bathroom, fleeing a situation that was too much for me. When I came out, he was already dressed in street clothes in front of the computer. All I managed was a muttered “thanks” before heading for the door without looking him in the face.

“I’ll book you in for next Tuesday at the same time,” I heard before closing the door.

And I knew, as I went down the stairs with my legs still trembling, that on Tuesday I would come back.