The house was dark. A motion light above the driveway was the only light that allowed me to see the steps.
I knocked on the door. From somewhere inside the depths of the house a deep voice responded.
"It's open," he said.
Carefully I walked inside. As I crossed the threshold my eyes became adjusted to the dim light inside the house.
I could see the light coming from the television. I walked into the living area to find him laying on the couch with the blanket up to his chin watching CNN as usual.
"I have groceries for you," I told him.
He didn't like to get out much, so it had become nearly a habit for me to get him something each time I happened to go to the grocery store. It was no big deal because he always paid me back.
"Damn girl! Is it late enough?" he asked.
"Sorry, I couldn't get away until now." I said.
I proceeded into the kitchen to put away the groceries. I knew he wouldn't get up to put them away because his back and knees were hurting. That is the price he paid for being an entertainer and attempting to break-dance each night. At forty years old his break dancing was nearly breaking his body.
I walked back over to him after I'd stuffed everything in the small refrigerator. He handed me some money for the groceries. It was a little more than I'd spent this time, but I'd make it up the next time.
"They made me dance last night. I was really trying just to play music, but someone asked for the Michael Jackson impersonation. My body hurts bad," he complained.
"Well, you know I've been told that I'm pretty good at massages."
"No way girl! You better get down here."
He flipped over on to his stomach and I got down on my knees beside the couch. I started massaging his shoulders and feeling my way down his back, trying to work out each knot. I was absorbed watching my white pudgy hands rub deeply into his black muscular backside. He moaned pleasurably with each knot I worked loose. I worked my thumbs into the muscles of his neck, all the way up to the base of his baldhead.
I rubbed my hands down the length of his spine. I worked my hands deeply into his lower back, because I knew this was an area that caused him a lot of pain. I had to pull back his covers to really get at his lower back.
He was only wearing a pair of black jockey shorts. I worked hard into his lower back and then I pressed up his spine and I heard an audible pop and he sighed in relief.
"My thighs and my calves hurt too. Could you rub those?" he asked.
I pulled back the covers completely. I took one leg at a time. First I worked his thigh with both hands, kneading the muscle. I then worked my way down to his calf.
Suddenly he rolled over on his back. I didn't dare look at his jockey shorts because I had a sneaking suspicion that he'd be standing at half mass.
"Please, keep rubbing my legs. It feels good," he said.
I started with the other leg and worked my hands into his thigh muscle and then down to the calf muscle. I went back and forth between both legs. Then he grabbed my hand. He placed it right on top of his jockey shorts. I began to massage his thick bulge through his shorts.
He reached into his shorts and pulled out the biggest black cock I'd ever seen, with the exception of pornos and the Internet. It was already pretty hard as I put my hand around the shaft, my fingers not quite reaching my thumb.
He moved my hand down the to the base of his shaft.
"Squeeze tight, but don't pump too hard." he explained.
I wasn't used to a man with an uncircumcised cock. I'm used to being able to pump right from the get go. Apparently, through careful touching, you get the tip of the cock nice and wet, enough so that you can then pull back the foreskin and begin to pump.
Accidentally, I began to pump too quickly and he jerked.
