On a recent trip to the Caribbean I experienced a mind-blowing incident which I will remember the rest of my life. On our first night, after a nice meal at the resort, my husband had to prepare for a presentation he was giving the next day. I decided to go to the bar for a drink and see what the resort's night life was like.
The area was crowded and the dance floor was packed. After finishing my favourite martini I made my way to the floor and began to dance by myself. I often dance alone and enjoy the music and the fact of not having to cater to anyone else. When I opened my eyes there was a black man dancing opposite me. He was young and somewhat muscular with a clean shaven head and wearing a black Tee-shirt, which was as tight as his jeans.
He smiled when we made eye contact and although I kept my face solemn I did nod slightly. His eyes dropped from my face to my chest. I had decided to wear a white tube top, which had slipped down during my dancing, exposing more of my breasts than I had intended. I looked down and pulled my top up slightly. He smiled as he again glanced at the cleavage of my 38D breasts, which over the last few years had sagged from their original 36C. I exercise regularly and have kept my tummy flat and my butt, although sagging, is still able to turn heads.
The stranger on the dance floor spoke, but the music was too loud and I did not want to engage in conversation. I closed my eyes and raised my arms in the air allowing myself to get lost in the music. I was in a trance and when I eventually opened my eyes the black stranger had gone. I stayed another hour and enjoyed another martini. Most of my time was spent fencing off the unwanted advances from would be Don Juans until I had enough and made my way back to my room.
I passed the spa, which to my surprise was still open so I wandered in and decided to book a relaxing massage the next morning. My husband would be away and I certainly deserved a little pampering. When I entered my room I realized how tired I was and quickly joined my husband who was already asleep.
We relished breakfast together on the balcony, as we overlooked the crystal blue ocean. My husband left and I decided to shower before my spa treatment. I made my way to the spa and checked in. Everything was carefully explained by the pretty attendant and I was escorted to a locker room, where I was asked to remove my clothes and wear the soft towel the woman handed me. I was told to then walk along a hall and go into room four. I did as I was told and as I entered the room I could see where the spa fee was being spent. The room had only three walls. The fourth was open and faced the warm Caribbean water. The wooden floor ended where the beach began and the cloth covered walls made for a very relaxing environment.
A small table was the only furniture in the room and I sat on it, while I enjoyed the view. A moment later the door opened and an attendant entered. "My name is David," the man said, softy. I smiled and was shocked when realized he was the same man on the dance floor the night before. It seems he recognized me as well and smiled softly. After a few questions I quickly learned that he was employed as a masseuse, but lives on the property and was enjoying a night out the previous evening.
He requested I lay face down and asked if I wanted a gentle or a hard massage. I told him I wanted to get rid of some stress and he told me to leave it to him. I felt his muscular hands knead my calves and my feet. Immediately I felt the benefits of his expert hands as they worked hard to relax my tense filled muscles. He applied lotion to his hands and then rubbed it into my upper legs just above my knees. I sighed as I relaxed and he began to work on my shoulders. I opened my eyes and embarrassingly found myself staring at his white shorts, which were just as tight as the jeans he was wearing the night before.
Shamelessly I found myself imagining what the rather large bulge looked like, but it was well hidden by the tight white material. I relaxed as his hands moved across the tight parts of my back and legs. He massaged my thighs with expertise and I was not sure if I was imagining it or was he actually sliding his hand higher with each movement. I realized it was not my imagination when I felt his fingers, ever so gently and only momentarily, brush against my womanhood.
I wondered if it was an accident, but assumed it was not when it happened a second time, this time slightly more deliberate. I assumed he was testing my reaction. If I became upset he would be able to explain the action as accidental, if I said nothing he could continue. I was shy and nervous, but said nothing. A third touch, which seemed to last longer, sent a pleasant shiver throughout my body.
He asked me to turn over and I wondered if I had imagined his advances. I did make certain the towel covered my breasts and private area. He began to massage my shoulders and I must admit, the action felt fantastic. A moment later I felt a slight breeze across my breasts and I realized m towel had been pushed lower. "You have fantastic breasts," David said. I was flattered, but also nervous and unsure of how to react.
My mind raced into fear when suddenly I felt his large, warm hand on my breast. He began to massage it and squeeze the softness, going far beyond what a normal massage should be. I felt comfortable and had no fear of this tall black man who was now touching my breasts in a most intimate manner. I shivered when he squeezed my nipples and by the way in which his hands moved I knew this was not his first time.
He pushed his hands further along my body caressing my tummy. I quivered at his touch and wondered when he would stop. Slowly he moved his hands further, pushing my towel lower as he went. I knew, by his touch, that he was nearing my most private area and I heard him moan softly when his hand touched my recently waxed mound.
At the same time he leaned forward and his bulging white shorts now hovered over my forehead. I closed my eyes, mostly from embarrassment, but managed a few glances. A moment later I felt his forefinger touch my love button. I moaned from the pleasure his touch brought me, which seemed to encourage him to go further. I felt his finger reach around and probe my opening. At the same time his penis, still hidden in his shorts was pressing against my nose and cheek. I could not believe this was happening, but I opened my mouth and nibbled at the material, feeling his muscle below.
He must have enjoyed my action for he pushed further and entered my moist hole with a sudden fury. I moaned and squirmed slightly overtaken by his movements. I love to have my woo woo touched by anyone or anything. I usually masturbate 3 or 4 times a day and use a butterfly with a remote control for those times when I can't touch myself, but require satisfaction. Quite often you can see me sitting in a Tim Horton's, drinking a tea with my eyes closed as the butterfly doing its work.
"Do you not find your shorts are a little too tight?" I asked, boldly, not sure what would possess me to suddenly be so aggressive. He lifted his body and I watched as he slipped his hands along his waist and down the sides of his legs, sliding his shorts with them. I was shocked when I looked up. There, only centimeters above my face hung his perfect penis. He slowly returned to the position of satisfying my needs, this time allowing his exposed penis to fall freely on my face.
