"Tell you what, I can certainly give you a massage. The first time is free, but after that I'd need you to pay me my normal rate, which is $60.00." There was a pause. He thought to himself, "Yes!" Then he spoke aloud. "Damn, sixty dolla is a lot for me, but ya, let's set this up and go from there." Now the question was where? She thought about using the place she just started working - a legit health spa in the downtown area of her suburb, but she felt Dee would clearly stand out when he walked in. She then considered her own home, but that seemed to cross a boundary.
"Tell you what. I have to be out your way tomorrow to pick up some shoes at the store I like. I could swing by your place. I have a portable massage table and all. Would that work?" Dee took a moment. He wanted to say, "Hell ya that's okay," but he contained himself, not wanting to make an assumption. "What time?" he asked. She confirmed. One in the afternoon.
She put down her cell phone, and wondered, "What did I just do?"
The next day, she did her morning routine, worked out, ate, threw in some laundry, and then got in the Lexus to head west toward the college town. She went to her favorite shoe store, and actually bought some new running shoes, and some casual ones that looked good with jeans. Knowing she was going to be "working" she dressed in modest shorts and a substantial t-shirt. After paying at the counter, she realized what was next. "I am going to have my hands on that guy's body."
Not a single client in her practice sessions came close to having the body DeMarcus had. Most guys she dealt with learning to give a massage were older guys; heavier guys. She also learned she didn't like a lot of hair on a guy, and Dee had nary a hair on his body. He was smooth chocolate from head to toe. She remembers a few really fit women she massaged.
She pulled up to Douglas Hall; that's where some of the student-athletes who stayed on campus lived during the summer. She suddenly felt out of place as she walked in the main doors. What is a 42 year old woman doing on a college dorm to give a massage to some 19-year-old athlete. She walked upstairs to the second floor, open the heavy door and made her way to room 205. A strong hint of weed arose. She seriously thought, at that moment, of turning around. She stopped for a moment. Then proceeded toward 205.
The door was already open, and three other very large black men were in the room with DeMarcus. Two of them had bottled beer in their hands. Dee was already shirtless with just some grey sweatpants on. The other guys looked like lineman. "Yo, Miss Martin. These are the boys who do all that blocking so I can get open to catch the ball." They all laughed. She innocently offered, "That's important, right?" They laughed some more. "Okay niggaz, you gots to go now. Miss Martin here on business." They offered some sly smiles and they departed. He stood up and Chrissy took notice of his ripped stomach and long, strong developed arms.
There was little extra room to set up her table, but she made in work in between the two beds. As she prepared the table, DeMarcus went to the bathroom down the hall. The shirts were on tightly, and she brought a few towels along with a cushion for Dee's face to rest in as she worked. He came back in the room. "You think we should keep the door open, Miss Martin." They decided it should be closed. It was time for him to get on the table. He still had on his sweat pants.
"Um, it might be best if you just had some shorts on, DeMarcus, or some boxers," she said. "I will eventually need to get to your legs." He had planned for this moment. He didn't put any boxers or shorts on when he got dressed. He explained the situation. She hadn't counted on this, and didn't want this to be an awkward moment where she seemed averse to a naked guy. After all, she was in the massage business. "Well them," she said. 'It is what it is." She motioned him to the table. DeMarcus, without embarrassment or shame, pulled his sweat pants down and off; tossing them on his bed. As he came toward the table, Chrissy turned and caught him in full stride. She couldn't NOT notice. Dee's long thick limp cock swayed as he got up on the table and laid on his stomach.
"Was that real?" she thought to herself. "What the .... ?" It was all real. DeMarcus gave credibility to the stereotype of tall, lean guys. He qualified as a legit shower ... all 8 soft inches of him. Chrissy thought he might be hard, but his dark black dong hung straight down in between his muscled thighs. She did the comparison in her head. DeMarcus soft was already twice the size of Todd hard. Of course, Chrissy had heard the bar table talk about black guys, but she just learned first-hand that there might be some truth. She was fascinated.
She placed a white towel over Dee's muscled ass, and placed her hands on his shoulders to begin her massage ....
TO BE CONTINUED.
"Tell you what. I have to be out your way tomorrow to pick up some shoes at the store I like. I could swing by your place. I have a portable massage table and all. Would that work?" Dee took a moment. He wanted to say, "Hell ya that's okay," but he contained himself, not wanting to make an assumption. "What time?" he asked. She confirmed. One in the afternoon.
She put down her cell phone, and wondered, "What did I just do?"
The next day, she did her morning routine, worked out, ate, threw in some laundry, and then got in the Lexus to head west toward the college town. She went to her favorite shoe store, and actually bought some new running shoes, and some casual ones that looked good with jeans. Knowing she was going to be "working" she dressed in modest shorts and a substantial t-shirt. After paying at the counter, she realized what was next. "I am going to have my hands on that guy's body."
Not a single client in her practice sessions came close to having the body DeMarcus had. Most guys she dealt with learning to give a massage were older guys; heavier guys. She also learned she didn't like a lot of hair on a guy, and Dee had nary a hair on his body. He was smooth chocolate from head to toe. She remembers a few really fit women she massaged.
She pulled up to Douglas Hall; that's where some of the student-athletes who stayed on campus lived during the summer. She suddenly felt out of place as she walked in the main doors. What is a 42 year old woman doing on a college dorm to give a massage to some 19-year-old athlete. She walked upstairs to the second floor, open the heavy door and made her way to room 205. A strong hint of weed arose. She seriously thought, at that moment, of turning around. She stopped for a moment. Then proceeded toward 205.
The door was already open, and three other very large black men were in the room with DeMarcus. Two of them had bottled beer in their hands. Dee was already shirtless with just some grey sweatpants on. The other guys looked like lineman. "Yo, Miss Martin. These are the boys who do all that blocking so I can get open to catch the ball." They all laughed. She innocently offered, "That's important, right?" They laughed some more. "Okay niggaz, you gots to go now. Miss Martin here on business." They offered some sly smiles and they departed. He stood up and Chrissy took notice of his ripped stomach and long, strong developed arms.
There was little extra room to set up her table, but she made in work in between the two beds. As she prepared the table, DeMarcus went to the bathroom down the hall. The shirts were on tightly, and she brought a few towels along with a cushion for Dee's face to rest in as she worked. He came back in the room. "You think we should keep the door open, Miss Martin." They decided it should be closed. It was time for him to get on the table. He still had on his sweat pants.
"Um, it might be best if you just had some shorts on, DeMarcus, or some boxers," she said. "I will eventually need to get to your legs." He had planned for this moment. He didn't put any boxers or shorts on when he got dressed. He explained the situation. She hadn't counted on this, and didn't want this to be an awkward moment where she seemed averse to a naked guy. After all, she was in the massage business. "Well them," she said. 'It is what it is." She motioned him to the table. DeMarcus, without embarrassment or shame, pulled his sweat pants down and off; tossing them on his bed. As he came toward the table, Chrissy turned and caught him in full stride. She couldn't NOT notice. Dee's long thick limp cock swayed as he got up on the table and laid on his stomach.
"Was that real?" she thought to herself. "What the .... ?" It was all real. DeMarcus gave credibility to the stereotype of tall, lean guys. He qualified as a legit shower ... all 8 soft inches of him. Chrissy thought he might be hard, but his dark black dong hung straight down in between his muscled thighs. She did the comparison in her head. DeMarcus soft was already twice the size of Todd hard. Of course, Chrissy had heard the bar table talk about black guys, but she just learned first-hand that there might be some truth. She was fascinated.
She placed a white towel over Dee's muscled ass, and placed her hands on his shoulders to begin her massage ....
TO BE CONTINUED.