“Next a foot massage and maybe a hand massage, to relax you. Have you ever had a hand or foot massage while lying naked on a bed?” I lean forward waiting for her reply.
“No,” she whispers, “but it sounds nice.”
“Oh, it is. Trust me. Imagine yourself naked; lying on your stomach, completely vulnerable and the only parts of you I’ll touch are your hands and your feet. It can be quite erotic.” I pause and sip my drink. “When you are sufficiently relaxed I’ll massage your back, your ass and your legs. I have to tell you that based on what I’ve seen with your clothes on, your ass is going to distract me for a long time. I can’t wait to touch it, kiss it, run my hands over it and massage it for you. When I’ve thoroughly explored your backside, I’ll turn you over and do the same on your front.”
“Mmmm,” she says, leaning closer to me. Her blouse gaping open, revealing her sizable dark breasts packed into a lacy beige bra. “Please continue.”
“Well I’ve never seen a black woman’s breasts other than in the movies, although I admit that seeing Halle Berry naked in that movie “Monster’s Ball” was very erotic,” I tease.
“Will you forget about Halle Berry for a minute? Breasts are breasts, black or white, okay? Don’t expect chocolate milk or anything,” she laughs.
“Fine, ruin my fantasy,” I say, “no chocolate milk? Then, let’s forget the whole thing!” We’re both laughing and I watch her bountiful tits bouncing around as I continue. “Still, never having seen your breasts, Cyn, I expect to be quite enamored with them and spend a lot of time exploring them.” I look right at her tits as I continue, speaking softly and slowly. “I want to fondle, suckle, nibble and just lose myself in them until they are so aroused and so sensitive that you beg me to move on to the rest of your body.” She’s leaning forward with her elbow on the table, her hand under her chin, clearly getting into my fantasy as evidenced by the protrusion of her nipples, pushing out the material of her blouse. Thick round knobs, larger than I had imagined, are jutting out, embossing themselves on the front of her top. I pull my eyes up to meet hers as she takes a drink.
“I’ll gradually kiss my way down your body, already hypersensitive from the past few hours of massaging and fondling, and is now openly inviting my tongue to explore the absolute top item on my list of places to visit before I die,” I say with a completely straight face.
Sputtering and spitting coffee, she’s laughing so hard her body shakes. Her tits are bouncing like crazy and my cock is bulging in my pants as I watch her hard nipples jiggling up and down inside her blouse.
“This is number one on your list of places to visit before you die?” she asks glancing at her lap. “That’s priceless! Do I even want to know what number two is?” She’s wiping her eyes.
“Halle Berry’s, where else?” I say.
She hits me playfully. “You sure know how to break a mood, don’t you? Come on, Mike, I really want to hear the rest of your fantasy.”
“Well the rest of my fantasy is that my tongue thoroughly enjoys it’s visit, for as long as it takes to work it’s magic.” I lean closer and lower my voice even more. “I absolutely love going down on a woman, Cyn, exploring every fold and crevice with my tongue, memorizing where to lick based on her responsiveness and I’m tireless at it. I once ate a girlfriend, off and on, for over four hours. I love the taste and I can never get enough.” She’s just staring in my eyes, like she’s trying to read my mind.
“Wow,” she says, almost dreamily, “then, what after that?”
“After you’ve erupted in an explosive orgasm? Is that the after that you’re referring to?” I smile.
“Yeah, I like the sound of that. After the explosive orgasm,” she whispers.
“Then nothing. My fantasy stops,” I tell her. “It stops because then it’s no longer a fantasy. It either becomes a dream or a nightmare, Cyn, and I can’t predict which it’ll be.” I take her hand in mine, move my face inches from hers, and look deeply into her brown eyes. “In the dream version, we make mad passionate love for the rest of the afternoon, until we’re both fulfilled to the point of exhaustion. We live happily ever after, meeting as often as we like to satisfy our bodies’ lustful demands.” I pause.
“And the nightmare version?’ she asks, huskily.
“In the nightmare version,” I say, more cautiously. “Once the orgasm subsides, your stockpile of conflicting feelings from the past ten years comes crashing down on you in the worse form of guilt imaginable and you leave in tears, regretting having ever met me.” We just stare silently at each other.
“Damn!” she finally says, breaking eye contact and pulling her hand from mine. “You are either the most insightfully sensitive man I’ve ever met or the most manipulative bastard on the planet.”
“No in between, huh?” I ask, smiling, “like maybe I just want to bed a sexy black woman but not if it ruins her life.”
“An older, black woman,” she corrects me, smiling. “I guess I’ve got a lot to think about, don’t I?” she asks, sitting up straight, her bullet like nipples pointing at me from the tips of her full, round tits, drawing my eyes away from her face, as she continues talking. “I guess my choices are to walk away from this and leave you to explore Miss Berry’s body or to cut her off at the pass and show you what a real woman is like.” She’s making light of it but I think it’s to keep from facing her choice just yet.
“Cyn.” I again reach for her hand. “It’s whatever you decide, you’re in control. I want to live out this fantasy so much I can taste it, so to speak.” She smiles. “But not if it makes you crash and burn, understand?” I give her my cell number. “Call me anytime, night or day. We can meet or just talk or…” She puts her fingers to my lips.
“Shhh. Thanks, Mike. I think I’d better go.” I stand up to walk her to her car.
Standing by her car, I pull her to me and press my lips against hers. Her hard nipples crushing against my chest arouses my cock and she responds, putting her arms around my neck and pushing her tongue in my mouth. We kiss hungrily for several minutes before she breaks the kiss.
“Whew,” she pants. “I better go.”
“You might want to pull your jacket around you when you go into your house,” I tell her nodding towards the bumps on her chest.
“Shit! When did that happen?” she asks as she looks down.
“”Oh, about 30 minutes ago,” I answer, smiling.
“Enjoyed that, didn’t you?” She brushes her lips lightly against mine and whispers, “that’s nothing, Mike. I better change my wet panties, too.” Before I can respond, she gets in her car and drives away.
The next few days drag by with no call from Cyn.
Tuesday morning as I’m on my way to class, my cell phone rings. It’s a blocked number, but I answer it anyway.
“Mike? It’s Cyn.” My cock stirs before I can even answer her.