FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

For Xythian

You lie beneath the soft fluffy white towel in the largest of the private massage parlors. It's practically a small apartment, complete with its own change room, a cabinet containing various oils, and a few bonsai spruce trees for decoration.

Your naked body rests cupped in the palm of the table's padding while you wait for your masseuse. It's so large it's more like a bare mattress. The comparison isn't lost on your cock, which is sporting a slight chub underneath you. You try to distract yourself by reading the spa's brochure.

The room is silent except for the soft rustle of paper. You admire the professional photos of the spa - a rustic retreat two hours from the city, catering specifically to men. The whole complex is built of unpainted, varnished woods and granite, trimmed in brass and Zulu patterned carpeting. There's a full weight room, two saunas - dry, and traditional smoke - a 12-person steam room, hot and cold pools, even a meditation room. From what you've seen of the staff, you're starting to think there's some sort of minimum bicep requirement to work here. Even the receptionist was a mouth-watering lion in one of the muscle shirts that serve as staff uniforms.

A sound interrupts your thoughts - a great, slow, heavy tread. You watch the bonsais do a little jig on their mantles in time to the footsteps. The double doors click open.

Your brain grinds to a halt. The elephant who enters the room absolutely FILLS the doorway, to the point where you wonder how he even walked down the hall. He's so immense, the still functioning corner of your brain wonders if they built this place around his physical stature just to make sure he could work here.

His hulking grey humanoid feet are bare. You doubt any shoe could fit them. They support a set of bloated, bulging legs that are so wide they almost look squat compared to his prodigious height. He wears the same uniform as the other spa staff - a pale pink muscle shirt and navy blue short shorts. Your eyes linger on the space between his godly thighs...and the bulge there casually announcing that this elephant is the most hung man you've ever even imagined. The muscle shirt is more like a tank top on him, riding up off of his brickwork abdominals to cling to his heaving, monstrous chest. There's so much tension in the shirt straps, they remind you of suspension bridge cables.

You blush as you realize he's been standing there, letting you take him all in. He gives a warm smile.

"Good evening, sir. My name is Goliath. I will be taking care of you."

Oh fuck. That voice. You could LOSE yourself in that voice. It melts your eardrums into limp rubber bands and sends ASMR tingles down your spine.

The elephant god closes the doors behind him, allowing you to gaze at the pterodactyl wingspan of his hulking back. You risk a naughty glance down at that plump set of steel buns. Like ripe curved pumpkins, with that cute little elephant tail dangling between them.

"Please, try to relax," he urges.

You can't help but relax. His voice is making you sag back onto the bed, silently begging him to keep talking. He lumbers over to the cabinets to begin setting out supplies.

"I understand you have purchased our platinum service package. We very much appreciate your business, sir. I am at your disposal for as long as is required to satisfy you."

The African giant slowly approaches. His shadow covers you like a blanket. He reaches out with one mighty hand, fingertips probing the base of your neck, the muscles just to either side of your upper spine.

"I can see why you decided to come here. So much tension in this body. You must have a great deal of stress."

Goliath runs his pointer finger in a soothing line right down your vertebrae. You exhale, closing your eyes. You can feel your cock lengthening, thickening. You're grateful for the towel. That is, until he plucks at it.

"May I?"

You glance back at him. His warm heavy brown eyes look into yours. He senses your hesitation and smiles.

"Sir, I assure you, I am a professional. This spa operates under the very strictest confidence."

You manage to nod. Words still won't come. He opens the towel, exposing your ass to the pleasantly warm air. You blush against the towel under your body.

Goliath touches your shoulder.

"Would it help if I were to take off my shirt? To put us in an equally compromising position, if you will."

What are you going to say? No? You can barely breathe while he takes a great step back and peels that shirt off of that...that ...magnificent body. At his size, everything is exaggerated - the roll of his pec shelf, muscles squishing against themselves. The swollen, fat rolls of muscle that form his abs in a jiggling, slightly overhung 'paunch' of pure beef you swear you could lose your fingers in between. His chest is like a Serengeti in itself - soft even hair spread across the mesas of grey muscle.

"To be honest," Goliath confesses, lumbering back toward you, "I much prefer operating in as little clothing as possible. It is so...constricting."

As he says this, he pops open the button on his shorts. He smirks at you and steps out of them, now in nothing but a cream-colored silk jock strap. It reminds you of an overstuffed grocery sack, the way it SAGS.

You curse under your breath. Goliath chuckles.

"Indeed. Shall I continue, sir?"

You can only nod. Your eyes widen as he rubs his hands firmly against his hairy chest, causing it to jiggle. The palms come down across the back of your neck and the middle of your back. Soothing warmth from the friction oozes into your skin like a hot bath. You moan.

"That's it," Goliath urges gently. "Enjoy yourself."

Your eyes close in surrender. You hear him rub his hands against his huge body over and over, placing those huge friction-warmed firm palms along your shoulder blades, then your lower back, and finally cupping each thigh at the same time.

Goliath senses you starting to ease into the session. A strange, fleshy touch probes at the points where your collar bones meet your neck. It takes you a moment to realize what it is - he's using his trunk on you.

An elephant's trunk is a marvelously prehensile thing. Strong enough to crack branches, but flexible enough to manipulate a paintbrush. Both come into play all over your head, now, as his trunk rests like a hat, fully coiled, and then inches down your scalp, uncoiling as it goes. The ring of pressure feels strange but pleasant. Almost like a hug. It descends downward along your neck and over your face. Slow, firm, and tender.

A wild fantasy flits into your head - Goliath as your huge sexy daddy, hugging and caressing you with his trunk before bedtime. It lingers while his trunk strokes along both sides of your neck and back to the point where neck meets spine.

Goliath stops. You let out a long and grateful sigh.

"Generally, this is the point where I end with most clients," he murmurs. "However, you are not most clients. A full VIP treatment entitles you to certain benefits. Ones I am, frankly, more than eager to share with you, sir."

Heavy masculine fingers caress along both of your ass cheeks. You want to look up in surprise, but you don't. You don't want to break the spell. You don't stop him as he brings his trunk back and rolls it in slow, sensual circles and spirals around your right cheek and then your left.

"Does that please you, sir?"

Instead of nodding, you spread your legs wider. So that he can see your winking pucker. His big meaty thumb presses it like a button. You bury your moan into the table. He works that digit back and forth in a pressing, rocking motion, slowly pushing until your ass yields and his thumb smears from dry pucker flesh to moist interior.

Neither of you speak. There's a soft, erotic silence where your breaths caress each other in the warm air.

Goliath's bulk leans over the top of you. His tusks slide into your peripheral vision before you feel a soft kiss to the back of your ear.

"Shall I get the oils, sir? Or would you prefer a dry massage?"

You're about ready to just rut the damn table. This isn't relaxing any more. It's a sweet torture. You make your choice.

Goliath moves off. The oil cabinet opens with a gentle squeak. Bottles click musically together. The elephant god considers you over one hulking shoulder.

"I can usually tell which oil my client will likely prefer," he says. "Cooling," he slides a lemon-colored bottle to the side, "or warming, for example." A dull orange bottle joins its mate.

Goliath's bulk shifts a few inches toward you. Enough for you to clearly see the mouth watering hard-on he has. You blush at the silent compliment it implies. But you don't look away while he reaches into the very back of the cabinet. Out comes a tiny sapphire colored bottle.

"This is for you," he proclaims.

You try to swallow in a mouth suddenly dry. He approaches with that fuck pole wagging in his underwear. God, that face is just so calm and self-assured. He knows EXACTLY what he's doing and what he's going to do. He pauses as he looms over you.

"I feel I should point out, sir, that these walls have been certified completely soundproof. So please don't feel you have to hold back as things get..." the bloated pink-grey head of his monster slips out the top of his jock "...more intense."

You can't stop a faint line of drool falling from your mouth. Goliath just smiles wider. He drops his drawers without another word. The elephant is hung like a baseball bat. It's all perfectly shaved and waxed, meaning you can take in all the veins that criss cross under the grey hide like the Nile seen from space. His sack hangs halfway to his knees. Each mouth-watering orb is so large, you'd have trouble cupping them even with both hands.

"I hope you don't mind my saying so, sir," Goliath murrs as he approaches again, "but you are my favorite client yet today."

A wordless whimper leaves your lips. That package comes closer...closer....until at last it's within range. Pressed right up against your face. You bury your face in it, into the most intimate folds and darkness of his body. God, even his SMELL is sexy. Like some exotic African spiced cologne. He lets you play while he opens the tiny bottle of oil and uses it on part of himself.

"This particular potion is friction activated. Its true properties will become evident shortly."

Goliath moves off. You gasp in the fresh air. The towel underneath your crotch is soaked in pre. Yet, Goliath has only just begun on you.

"If you'll lie down flat for me, sir?"

You'd do anything this towering giant asked of you. You obey, biting your lips, wondering what new sensual delights are coming.

It turns out Goliath really IS going to massage you. But it's not his hands that begin to squeeze and rub tension out of your legs. You gasp as you realize that those bulging, flexing enormous curves now grinding the oil against your hamstrings can only be one thing - his arms. Goliath has both of your legs wedged into the groove between his bicep and his forearm and he's squeeeeezing down on you, moving up your body as he goes. He's fucking squishing and flexing the tension out of your legs like homemade pasta from a press.

You cry out. His truck caresses your cheek.

"Too strong?"

You shake your head. You don't EVER want it to stop. Just when you think it can't get any more heavenly, that oil effect he mentioned kicks in. Delicious little pins and needles sparkle just under your skin, wherever his bloated, veined muscles smear it. You moan his name.

"Well done, sir. Most men don't hold out on me this long."

You can well imagine. Most men probably fall to their KNEES the moment he enters the damn room.

Goliath settles your legs back on the table. You sense the intimate, nude heat of him surrounding you. He's so big, he's straddling the whole table. There is a soft thud when his crotch lands just behind your ass. You start to stir, afraid he's going to try and penetrate you dry with that monster.

A single enormous hand presses against the middle of your back. Pushes you back down to the table with inexorable strength. He does it as slow as Tai Chi. It's not even a challenge for him to manhandle you any way he wants.

A new and strange sensation rolls up your lower back with a kind of hard, rippling pressure. You see his hands slide into view to take hold of your own. Pressure bears down upon you like a great foot. It grinds upward, rubbing all tension - almost all SENSATION - out of your lower back. He's just squeezed down on you with those mouth watering abs and worked your lower spine into goo with a single pass. You don't know where his chest is. He must have his upper body curved away from you like some gigantic yoga master. How can anyone so huge be so flexible?

The thought makes you dizzy. But not as much as what comes next. You inhale as a boulder...a wall...a TIDE of hairy flesh slowly rolls down upon your lower back all the way up to your neck and head.

"You're doing very well," he murmurs next to your ear, giving your little hands a reassuring squeeze.

Goliath is lying naked on top of you. Somehow able to not crush you like a bug. His pecs tense and bounce all over your upper back, great bombs of bliss covered in soft masculine chest hair.

Cum courses up the interior of your penis to fire out like flame from a space shuttle's thrusters. Goliath MILKS your balls with every enormous pec squeeze, making you cum again and again and AGAIN.

You collapse to the table, only dimly aware of him holding or catching you to ensure you don't hurt yourself. The oil he's smeared over his entire upper body now coats you from neck to ass, sparkling under your skin. His slow breathing rocks you half in and out of sleep. His heartbeat is a tender knock against your spine.

Fresh air against your naked skin rouses you. Goliath lumbers over to his discarded underwear and slides it back on. You watch him through the fog of your lashes. Your eyes don't seem to want to fully open.

Goliath caresses your bangs away from your face. You lean into his touch and hear him chuckle.

"Let me fetch you a drink."

Goliath helps you to sit up on the edge of the massage bed. He disappears from view. You follow the thuds of his footsteps back behind you. He returns to hand you a tall clear class of cool water over your shoulder before replacing the soaked towel on the massage bed with a fresh one. While you sip, his loving hands wipe away the remains of your orgasm with a damp cloth.

You indicate that you've drunk your fill. He clears things away, finally coming back to loom fondly over you.

"Is there anything else you require from me today, sir?"

You manage the courage to ask for his number. The room vibrates with his laugh and he surrounds you in a one armed hug and shares a kiss that leaves your toes curling.

"Unfortunately, our policies are very strict about such things. However, should you find yourself with any additional tension - say, in the front half of your body - I hope you will consider me and book with us again."

Goliath winks at you, and you grin back. You assure him that you will.

"Then I wish you a very pleasant evening, sir. Allow me to fetch you your clothes."

Your whole body feels strangely light, limber as pasta, but oh so relaxed that it's hard to focus on anything.

All too soon, you're redressed and tying your shoes. Goliath meets you at the front check out, and you blush at the sight of him reclothed. He hands you a little tray containing your phone, a small folded 'Thank you' card, and a piece of chocolate wrapped in gold foil.

"One last thing, sir," Goliath says in a low murmur for your ears only. "You left your phone unlocked. I took the liberty of leaving you a...recording...while you were dressing. I hope you enjoy."

You hug your phone to your chest and suppress a moan. It feels like you won't have enough spunk to cum again for a week. When you are, though, you know who it will be for.