... As soon as her hands touched his athletic chocolate body, Chrissy knew this was different. There was a palpable sexual tension in the air. Most of the guys she had previously massaged were hairy and heavy. She loved how DeMarcus felt; his strong muscles, his smooth coal-black skin. She worked his shoulders. neck and upper back before descending down to his mid and lower back. Although small, her hands were strong and DeMarcus offered a soft moan of approval as she worked.
Of course she had seen picture of very sexy athletic men before, and watched sporting events on TV that featured the same, but this was the first time she was this close -- in person -- hands on. DeMarcus wanted to play it smooth. He knew well enough not to get himself into a sticky situation of sexual harassment, so he'd be patient but open to whichever way the wind blew.
After working the muscles of his upper back and neck, Chrissy moved down to the back side of Dee's legs, which were like chiseled marble - nary an ounce of fat, unlike her tub of goo spouse. As she worked her way up and down that back of his thigh, Dee moaned approval. "Ya, that feel good. Guess I needed some magic hands there." Chrissy attempted to maintain a professional demeanor. "Well, considering how often you are on your legs and getting hit on the field, it's no surprise your legs are sore."
Taking the hint that Dee enjoyed this area of his body being massaged, Chrissy allowed her hands to move slightly under the white towel to reach the top of his back legs, that area where leg and butt meet. She could feel how solid was his ass. Pure muscle. Surprising even herself, her hands inched higher and higher below the towel than would normally happen as part of a standard professional massage. DeMarcus made no objection. He let her hands do their thing. No words were spoken and she moved into a full two-hand massaging of his black ass and lower back. She knew boundaries were being crossed. And so did the 19-year old black stallion, who had been recruited by over 20 colleges to play ball.
Sensing a moment had arrived, Demarcus used one arm to reach back and pull the white towel off his body, allowing it to fall to the floor. Chrissy said nothing; just kept massing the most amazing male backside she'd ever seen. She got more and more into, and so did DeMarcus. His occasional moans grew in volume, and he felt a growing discomfort as his hardening dick felt constrained down below. He fought the urge to just flip over and let his manhood free.
With the towel gone, Chrissy slowly worked up and down the entire back of his body -- neck to feet. He had HUGE feet, long toes. DeMarcus enjoined every minute of it. But still assumed this would wind down professionally and this 42-year-old married soccer mom cougar would scamper off before another went to an even higher level.
Chrissy found herself wanting to massage all of him. Normally a professional massage at your typical neighborhood spa involves ONLY a person lying on their stomach. To turn over completely was the reserve of illegal rub joints. But there were no cameras, no time limits, no receptionist in the lobby. She throw caution to the wind. "DeMarcus, why don't you turn over, hun."
Music to his ears. She didn't have to ask twice. He flipped over that 6-foot-4, 180-pound chocolate frame. As he flopped over, so did his sizable half-hard black cock. DeMarcus got on his back, and his man piece rested well up onto his stomach. Chrissy was aghast. She had no idea they came this big, and he wasn't even at full capacity. Yet! This young black man was in an entirely different league that she was used to playing in. Actually, Chrissy had only been with 3 guys sexually her entire life, although she remembered a few "big ones" when her and her lady friends slipped inside a male strip club while in Vegas years ago. Her husband Todd was a nicely average 5 inches long and the thickness of a roll of Life-Savers. Now she was face to face with a what looked like a police officer's black flashlight. It turned her on, more than she had been in years.
DeMarcus had fantasies of his own. Even though he had a stable of snow bunnies on campus ready to suck dick at the drop of a dance song, he liked challenges; he liked the forbidden, and what is more forbidden than fucking some racist white guy's sex-deprived wife. Some of his black athlete friends had been down that road, but Dee was picky. He liked fit, athletic women. He wasn't into the 250-plus pound fat chicks. He liked nice ass, flat stomachs, and small perky tits. Chrissy fit the bill perfectly. Her cute innocent face hid the raging frustration that lay deep within her womanhood.
The question lingering in DeMarcus's mind was how far this bitch would go.
TO BE CONTINUED...
Of course she had seen picture of very sexy athletic men before, and watched sporting events on TV that featured the same, but this was the first time she was this close -- in person -- hands on. DeMarcus wanted to play it smooth. He knew well enough not to get himself into a sticky situation of sexual harassment, so he'd be patient but open to whichever way the wind blew.
After working the muscles of his upper back and neck, Chrissy moved down to the back side of Dee's legs, which were like chiseled marble - nary an ounce of fat, unlike her tub of goo spouse. As she worked her way up and down that back of his thigh, Dee moaned approval. "Ya, that feel good. Guess I needed some magic hands there." Chrissy attempted to maintain a professional demeanor. "Well, considering how often you are on your legs and getting hit on the field, it's no surprise your legs are sore."
Taking the hint that Dee enjoyed this area of his body being massaged, Chrissy allowed her hands to move slightly under the white towel to reach the top of his back legs, that area where leg and butt meet. She could feel how solid was his ass. Pure muscle. Surprising even herself, her hands inched higher and higher below the towel than would normally happen as part of a standard professional massage. DeMarcus made no objection. He let her hands do their thing. No words were spoken and she moved into a full two-hand massaging of his black ass and lower back. She knew boundaries were being crossed. And so did the 19-year old black stallion, who had been recruited by over 20 colleges to play ball.
Sensing a moment had arrived, Demarcus used one arm to reach back and pull the white towel off his body, allowing it to fall to the floor. Chrissy said nothing; just kept massing the most amazing male backside she'd ever seen. She got more and more into, and so did DeMarcus. His occasional moans grew in volume, and he felt a growing discomfort as his hardening dick felt constrained down below. He fought the urge to just flip over and let his manhood free.
With the towel gone, Chrissy slowly worked up and down the entire back of his body -- neck to feet. He had HUGE feet, long toes. DeMarcus enjoined every minute of it. But still assumed this would wind down professionally and this 42-year-old married soccer mom cougar would scamper off before another went to an even higher level.
Chrissy found herself wanting to massage all of him. Normally a professional massage at your typical neighborhood spa involves ONLY a person lying on their stomach. To turn over completely was the reserve of illegal rub joints. But there were no cameras, no time limits, no receptionist in the lobby. She throw caution to the wind. "DeMarcus, why don't you turn over, hun."
Music to his ears. She didn't have to ask twice. He flipped over that 6-foot-4, 180-pound chocolate frame. As he flopped over, so did his sizable half-hard black cock. DeMarcus got on his back, and his man piece rested well up onto his stomach. Chrissy was aghast. She had no idea they came this big, and he wasn't even at full capacity. Yet! This young black man was in an entirely different league that she was used to playing in. Actually, Chrissy had only been with 3 guys sexually her entire life, although she remembered a few "big ones" when her and her lady friends slipped inside a male strip club while in Vegas years ago. Her husband Todd was a nicely average 5 inches long and the thickness of a roll of Life-Savers. Now she was face to face with a what looked like a police officer's black flashlight. It turned her on, more than she had been in years.
DeMarcus had fantasies of his own. Even though he had a stable of snow bunnies on campus ready to suck dick at the drop of a dance song, he liked challenges; he liked the forbidden, and what is more forbidden than fucking some racist white guy's sex-deprived wife. Some of his black athlete friends had been down that road, but Dee was picky. He liked fit, athletic women. He wasn't into the 250-plus pound fat chicks. He liked nice ass, flat stomachs, and small perky tits. Chrissy fit the bill perfectly. Her cute innocent face hid the raging frustration that lay deep within her womanhood.
The question lingering in DeMarcus's mind was how far this bitch would go.
TO BE CONTINUED...