I had worked with charlotte Mays for roughly two years now in a small office that supported a large-scale contractor. My job was to track the progress of our crews and follow-up with the clients who outsourced our work. Charlotte supported the operations manager of our office, and was a no-nonsense, but sweet lady in her early fifties. Charlotte and I had a good relationship, even though I was only 24 at the time. Charlotte was a medium-toned black woman standing about 5"6, with a plump, but not fat figure. She carried a pair of 38 FF's that had me sweating from the moment I met her. I was fascinated with her breasts, which just had that beautiful natural hang to them, and couldn't be hidden by even the firmest of business suits. Sometimes I thought she would purposely wear tight sweaters that revealed a lot of cleavage, and bend over in front of me......or stand overly close to my face as I was seated at my desk. I would frequently race to the bathroom at work and rub out a quick load.
The good news was that charlotte was a divorcee who lived alone in a large house in the suburbs. One Friday after a long week of work, she asked if I wanted to hang-out at her place the next day and check out her newly remodeled living room. I quickly and not so smoothly accepted.
I arrived at her home the next day around 2:00pm. Charlotte wore a thin white v-neck sweater that contrasted with the smooth brown cleavage spilling from her chest. She gave me a detailed tour of her home, and finally arrived at a door in the upstairs portion of her house.
She told me that she had lied, and this was really the room that she had remodeled. I walked in to find a dimly lit room with sheers surrounding what looked to be a massage table.
Charlotte asked what I thought of it, to which I replied; "it looks great.....what's it for?"
She told me that she had recently gotten her masseuse license, and that she would be working from home on the evenings and weekends.
I told her how exciting it was, and that I was happy for her.
She then asked me if I wouldn't mind being her first customer.
I practically started shaking with excitement, and managed a nervous acceptance of her offer.
She asked me to remove my clothes down to my underwear, and to lay underneath the white cloth and await her return.
I readied myself for her return, and began to wonder if I would have to lay on my back at any point, thus revealing my hard-on. She re-appeared wearing a silk black robe that was slightly parted in the middle, revealing a canyon of mature black tit-flesh.
She asked me to just relax, and lay on my stomach. She worked her way all over my back, neck, shoulders, and finally down to my feet. She slowly eased her way up my calves and thighs where I thought I was going to die.
I had a raging hard-on and hadn't even been looking at her breasts. My breathing was becoming more rapid, and she asked if I was ok. I said yes, that I was fine.
She said, "you don't sound fine, why don't you roll over so I can give you a facial massage on the temporal lobes----sometimes that really does the trick." I rolled over flushed with excitement. She noticed this, and probably my hard-on for that matter, and said "boy, you really are all worked up aren't you?"
One thing that worried me the most was that not only would she be able to see how excited I really was, but also how small my penis was through the thin cotton sheet. Charlotte began rubbing my temples as her breasts hung tantalizingly over my face. I just gazed into their valley for what seemed like ages, when she said;
" Brian, is that little dick of yours all worked up over my big old breasts?"
