Birthday Massage: An Adventure Into Homosexuality

I made plans to go to San Diego this past weekend to see my Dad for his birthday, go to dinner, surf around there and actually be able to drive around and find parking. When I told my mom I was coming she told me to be there by 2pm but didn't tell me why, just that she had an early birthday present for me. I arrived at my parents' house and my mom informed me that my dad and I would be going to get Asian massages. I had never had a massage before so I didn't know what to expect and my thoughts ran dirty. Here's how it went:

I woke up from a nap at 2:45 to go with my dad to the place right down the street and we walked in a few minutes before our 3pm appointment. We walked in an they weren't quite ready for us so we sat down in some uber-comfortable chairs, myself awkwardly close to a woman having her legs massaged by an Asian woman. They called my dad in for his massage, handed me a styrofoam cup of tea and I immediately fell asleep in the chair.

A woman woke me up about 10 minutes later and brought me into a room. She stood there alongside a man as said in her heavy accent, "Do you want woman or man?"
"Uh, woman, I guess, but it doesn't really matter," I replied.
"So man is OK?"
"Yeah, uh, yeah that's fine."

The man, a stocky mid-forties man with a complimentary heavy accent pointed to the table and told me to take my clothes off when he left the room. It still didn't seem too gay to me. I stripped down and put my clothes on the ground. When he came back in he laughed at me for not putting them on a small stool. I was nude on my belly and under a thin white sheet. The strong-handed man began to massage my neck and head and it felt phenomenal and I was thinking that maybe I was into dudes. He then pulled the sheet down, exposing my back and 4 inches of crack. He placed some oil on my back and began to rub it in. It got hotter as he rubbed.

And so went the massage for the next few minutes. He found some knots in my back and began to work them out with his hands, forearms and elbows. One knot in the upper right part of my back was especially painful and he was having a hard time working it out. He pushed and prodded, but it would not come out. After some time I moved, against massage etiquette I suppose, and he said, "Does that hurt?"
"Yeah," I laughed, with a hint of discomfort and obviousness.
"It is tight," he said, in a deep breathy voice, drawing out the word 'tight.'
I have never felt gayer.

Then I turned onto my back and got the leg and arm portion of the massage. He avoided my nether regions by only the slightest bit and went to town on my calves and the muscles around my knees. The feeling was pure jubilation. The hour was nearing its end and he moved it my hands. He disproportionately large and soft hands massaging mine was an utter pleasure. He did one particular move in which he massaged each finger then snapped at each one's tip. I imagined this on my johnson being even more glorious than the pepper-grinder.

And then it was done! Just like that, he told me it was done and it was over. No "thank you" and certainly no happy ending. He used my for my body with no thought of what may my needs are. So selfish. Next time I will insist on the woman.