While I was at a business meeting my then-girlfriend decided on a massage at the hotel spa. Her masseur was, as she described him, a giant black guy. We were both of white European background and growing up in a suburban environment had little contact with minorities of any kind. While we were both liberal and open minded we secretly harbored what might even be a fear of blacks especially black men.  

She showered and entered the massage area, where the masseur told her to lie face down on the table while he stepped outside for a minute. Discarding her robe, she got on the table and modestly covered her backside with the provided towel. On entering, he asked the usual questions about any injuries and what kind of pressure she felt comfortable with. Sally's favorite was deep tissue with strong pressure.

Sally is a pretty redhead with a long, slender body. She has small perky breasts, a curvy bottom and a transparent pubic area  with scanty red hair. I have often thought that it must be a difficult thing for a straight masseur to have his hands all over a beautiful woman and still maintain his self control.

The big guy began on her shoulders, and going down her back his stroke ended on her buttocks; this was fairly routine until she felt that the towel had slipped completely off of her ass. He made a gesture to replace it and Sally, always proud of her body, said he needn't bother. Lying there naked with a stranger was a thrill for her; she loved that men, and women, looked at her and found her desirable.  He progressed to her arms and onto her legs. His long strokes went all the way from ankle, up over her thigh and, once again, onto her butt. He was excellent, and her whole body was melting.

With the back half over he requested she turn over, which she did, with the knowledge that he would get to see it all, her breasts and her pretty red pubes that offered a tasty view of her genitals. Lying there naked she was totally turned on by this man who commented how lovely she was. It was just the kind of thing she wanted to hear. He massaged her neck and moving his hands down over her breasts, he ended at her pelvic area.

Nipples erect, she began to breathe heavily; her arousal was not unnoticed by big black man. Walking down to the end of the table he began to massage her legs on up to her pubic area, and more than once he seemed to let a finger get into her private parts. Wanting a bit more and sensing a reluctance on his part, she moved her legs apart, allowing him access and  giving him permission to work on her pussy.

As his oiled fingers entered her vagina she thought they were as big as a good-sized dick. He was an expert, and with fingers in her vagina, he massaged her clitoris with his other hand. Seemingly unable to control herself she reached out for the large lump in his pants. Everything she had heard about black men and their genital size seemed true as he dropped his pants to the floor. His now-erect dick was magnificent. Getting off the table and on her knees she greedily took him in her mouth; it was heaven.

Getting back on her feet she bent over the table and, being sopping wet, had no problem accomodating his big cock. He gave her a pounding she will never forget. Coming and squirting, she had to muffle her outcries lest the staff think she was being murdered. Exhausted, she lay on the table while he gently moved his hands up and down her body. 

Later, as she related the experience to me, I was of course jealous, but interested in every detail of what went on in that room. Sally has reviewed my telling of the tale and finds it very accurate. It is a story she tells to friends when it's cocktail time on those weekends away at the spa. Those friends, not as bold, tell her she should write a book.