A Day For Me
A Day for Meby Miss AnonnaI had the day off so I figured I would treat myself to a day of pampering as I threw my legs over the bed and slipped into my big fuzzy slippers. I stood up and stretched and felt a cool breeze over my side and noticed my long tee was hanging off my right nipple exposing the whole right side of my body but I shook out of it and headed to the kitchen for a nice bowl of cereal. After cleaning my dish I headed to the tub for a relaxing salt bath and a good, close leg and body shave. Out of the tub I felt refreshed enough to squeeze myself into a tight pair of jeans, a tight tee and my little leather jacket. Out the door I went to find this new, holistic mind and body shop where I had an appointment for a one hour massage. I was so excited! As I got closer and closer to the address of this place I realized that I was entering into residential area and I did not see any shops or stores around and then I spotted the address where I was to be but it was merely a large house. I pulled into the drive a bit confused and thinking maybe I was in the wrong area but then I spotted a side door with a small sign on it. The name of the place was exactly what had been stated on the phone. I would have normally been a bit skeptical but this place was recommended to me by a good friend so I put my car in park and stepped out onto the freshly paved driveway and headed for the side door. Upon entering I could hear the sound of wood slats clanking together, apparently a very friendly way of letting the shop owner know someone had entered. I heard drums in the background and the sounds of some sort of wood flute through an audio system in the ceiling. I turned to the right where there was a counter like one would expect to see at a hair salon but there was no one around, save a pair of lovebirds in a cage hanging from an iron pole. There seemed to be all kinds of African art on the walls and floor, including peacock feathers jutting out from a wicker tub and an amazing wood carving of two long, curvy lovers swirling together in a nearly impossible sexual pose. I felt instantly relaxed with the smells of lavender throughout and I could sense a touch of eucalyptus, also. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes before letting it out. Startling my eyes open was the sound of the door into the room opening and through it walked the most beautifully chiseled black man I have ever seen carrying a towel and a smile that made me feel safe and warm had I been lost in an unforgiving jungle. “Halo, My dear.” He greeted me in a heavy accent that I could not place. Maybe it was Haitian or African, I wasn’t sure but I was blushing from the thoughts that were running through my head. şahinbey escort Shirtless, he slung the towel across the back of his thick neck and it rested over the bulging muscles on his shoulders. Each side drooped down across his pectorals leading my eyes to his shimmering dark nipples and then down his stomach, studying each nearly perfect muscle on his body. “Do you ‘ave an appointment?” he asked “O’ kin I make one for you?” I took a deep breath in and put my lips together and swallowed. “I have an appointment here at 11:00 .” I said, stepped to the side and like an excited little child I quickly blurted. “Are you my masseuse?” My smile had to have been all too obvious. I don’t ever remember being so attracted to a man’s body as I was then and I couldn’t wait to have his hands all over me. I could already feel the heat rising from my panties. He looked up at me endearingly, smiled and shook his head. “No, no, no, Ma’am. You’re appointment is with my sister but she will be a few minutes yet.” He said and then paused briefly. “Unless you do not mind having a man to give you a massage. If dat is de case, I can take you now.” He swung his arm toward the door and let his hand point the way. I raised my eyebrows as if to agree with him. “I don’t mind, as long as you’re gentle with me.” I said as I watched him come out from behind the counter. He was wearing some sort of multicolored skirt, no shoes and proceeded to open the door for me. The material was thin and I could completely see the outline of his muscular butt cheeks through the sunlight entering the window. “Ha ha ha ha!” He laughed as he led me through the door. “This is a massage, Miss, nothing is gentle.” I stopped in the doorway and my heart skipped a beat. I felt his powerful hand on my shoulder and then I could feel him coming closer to my neck. “I am just teasing, Ma’am, just teasing.” He said in a much softer tone. I could feel the heat from his breath on the bottom of my ear and pulled my lower lip into my mouth to keep from breathing out so heavily. I walked out into a hallway and he brushed past me holding his hand out and leading me down the hall. He stopped at the first door on the left, opened it and held his hand out again, gesturing to me to enter the room. I walked in and there was a fairly modern massage table set up in the middle of the room and in the back corner was a tri fold wall like you would see in a Japanese setting, but the art on it was definitely African. He handed me a towel and pointed to the corner. “You can change there.” He said sternly as he began to set up his little station with oils and sponges and what looked like heated rocks. I stepped behind the tri fold wall and noticed a shower-like apparatus and a drain in the floor. “Does this shower work?” I asked while removing my tee shirt and then started to unbutton my jeans. “It sure does, Missy!” He said sweetly, this time. “It is a slow salt shower. Feel free to use it if you like. Do you need an extra towel?” He asked. I could hear him moving things around in the other side of the room which was probably no larger than two doctors’ rooms at the local doctors office but still felt professional, yet cozy. I could see his silhouette through the thin wall and it revealed the curvature of his fine rear and the front seemed to be bulging out quite a bit. I studied harder. “No, thank you. I am fine.” I shouted over the wall. I was wondering if my masseuse was going to stay professional or was it possible for me to turn him on. His demeanor certainly gave me a safe challenge but what if I turned him on too much and he got out of control? I started to remove my panties and they were sticking to me. I had gotten myself soaked with the crazy thoughts running through my head. I hung my panties on the rail and looked up to pull this chain. The water trickled out slowly and passed through a device that looked as if it would hold salts or oils and bounced off my neck in manner I had never seen or felt. A sheen of silky liquid careened over my breasts. I could feel the salts in the water and the slick coating made me tingle all over. I ran my hands through the water that was working its way down my stomach and squeezed my lips together as if that were going to stop me from getting so horny. I quickly toweled off a little and felt so refreshed and relaxed. I wrapped my naked body with the towel and emerged from the changing area. I walked toward my muscular masseuse like a cougar on the prowl, staring at him hungrily and sizing up every inch of his hot, dark, body. He turned around to greet me and I stopped and stood there like a lost little girl. “Make yourself comfortable on the table and put your face into the gel mask facing down. I’ll start with your neck and shoulders, if that is ok with you. If at any point, I make you uncomfortable or touch you somewhere that makes you uncomfortable, be right sure to let me know, OK?” He said with a huge friendly grin. I slowly slid onto the table after he turned back to the wall in which all his oils were lined up. I left the towel draped across my back but grabbed it once I was lying flat and threw it over the corner of the table. It was very comfortable and the minute I put my face into the gel mask, I was in heaven. He moved swiftly and confidently towards my head and placed a hand on my shoulder. “You have a beautiful complexion.” He said. “You must take veddy good care of it.” He began to rub his hands together quickly. I mumbled in agreement with him. His large bold hands lay flat on my shoulder blades and felt very comforting and he began to swirl them around in the oils he heated in his hands and I briefly opened my eyes. His colorful skirt was dancing beneath me and every time he moved quickly I could tell his manhood was bouncing against it. I could see the definition of his firm thighs when they would sway against the material but my eyes were always drawn back to his crotch which revealed an undoubtedly well endowed man. I started to imagine him naked and pushing his cock up through the face mask in which I was submerged, wondering what it would feel like deep in my mouth. My neck was getting jostled from side to side but it felt so good and his touch was forceful but careful. I watched closely as his johnson would sway from side to side while he was working my shoulder blades and then I felt a warmth enter into my own crotch. I closed my eyes but I could not stop the little trickle of love juice that I was sure would show up on my completely shaved little beaver. “Oh boy,” I thought. “Way to go, Girl!” Maybe he wouldn’t notice anyway. It was a massage so there’s no reason for him to be down in that area. A few moments into the massage and he speaks. “You are not relaxing, Miss. Are you not comfortable? Am I hurting you?” He asked. “Not at all,” I said. “I’m just tense, I guess. You’re doing great and it feels wonderful. Don’t stop.” “Maybe some music will help, No?” He steps away from the front of the table and walks around towards the back. I heard several clicks and then African drums started beating in the background in a wonderfully beautiful rhythmic pattern. “Ah, dat is much betta, no?” he asked as I lay helpless in a daze. He did not return as quickly as I was expecting but nonetheless he did make his way back to the front of the table where I could watch him sway his thing just out of reach of my tongue. I smiled to myself and hoped that he didn’t see my sexual gesture but I knew there was no way he could. I did notice he was sticking out quite a bit further than earlier, though and wondered if he had caught a brief glimpse of my now soaked vagina. His hand hit my shoulders and worked their way down my back and I could feel his thumbs slide over my tramp stamp. “I love that design!” He said enthusiastically. “Is that African?” “I don’t actually know,” I said into his crotch pretending in my head I had his microphone up to my lips. “I thought it looked nice, so I got it. I do know it wasn’t cheap.” “I think it’s African, maybe from a Southern tribe.” He said happily and began to dance to the drums, double stepping from side to side as his hands wondered over my little tush.