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Hi,
This is basically the prologue to 'McFly: Unsaid Things', but I changed a few details because I don't want to just copy it out entirely. The reason I wanted to put this in is because this is what first inspired me to create this whole story. Speaking of inspiration if you haven't already you should go watch Tom Fletchers YouTube video all about inspiration.
Enjoy x.
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New York City
Four nice young men have just arrived at their hotel. It's been a long trip. Crowds of fans were waiting at the airport, this meant the guys had to be chaperoned through the airport by security. Now they're in their own rooms. Ordinarily on tour they would have their own physio travelling with them. Performing can put a strain on your body and they need their physio to make them ready for their next show.
One of the guys glances through the hotel literature. Massages are on offer. Just the thing after a long flight. He calls reception and asks for a masseuse. "Certainly, sir. What's your room number?"
Ten minutes later, there's a knock at the door. A woman walks in looking the man up and down.
"Okay, take off your clothes" she says. In a strong New Yorker accent.
He strips to his boxers.
"Er, erm" she pretends to clear her throat, as she points at his boxers and then to the floor.
"These?"
She nods
He feels a bit uncomfortable, but nevertheless he removes his boxers using only a small towel to protect his modesty. Nothing else. The masseuse instructs he lies face down on the bed. She starts rubbing his back. Shoulders first, then down the spine,
a little further.
Further than normal.
But it's okay, because she's moved to his legs, starting with his feet, moving higher,
higher,
higher.
This is not normal, he thinks to himself. But maybe that's just her way. He catches his breath. Did her hand just lightly touch his balls? Surely she didn't do it on purpose, surely it was a mistake.
It's just a mistake, he decides.
But then nope... she did it again... definitely on purpose.
The masseuse lifts his towel
Yep, his bums on show.
Something's going to happen he knows it, but he feels entirely too British to say anything. Sitting on top of his legs now she's rubbing every square inch of his bare bum. He really wants her to stop, it's gone too far. How can he possibly start objecting now?
What should he do?
He's in a hot sweat. Fifteen minutes of intense bum massaging pass, fifteen minutes too long. She climbs off "roll over" she instructs.
He awkwardly turns, quickly grabbing the towel as he does to cover himself. She starts on his chest, but he wouldn't any longer call this a massage, but sensuous rubbing. He works hard at trying to keep himself calm, he doesn't want to send her any signals of arousal from beneath the towel.
Suddenly she's removed the towel. That, was most definitely not a mistake. She's cupping his balls.
"You wanna special massage?" she asks.
