Cynthia took Jim’s hand and they strolled over to the row of tents, nicely shaded by a series of tall palms that swayed softly in the warm ocean breeze. As they walked past Tent #1, which had the flaps closed, they heard low spa-type new age music playing from within. The tranquil sound was broken as Cynthia heard a low deep moan emanate from behind the tent’s walls, followed by the words “Oh fuck, yes, that’s it… nice and deep.” She thought that sounded like a pretty good massage that woman was getting.
They spotted a small sign with the number ‘3’ affixed next to the middle tent and stepped inside. Inside the tent was a standard massage table with a counter with a built-in sink a short distance to the side. In the back corner of the tent was a small shower with a curtain that could be pulled around to give the user some privacy. In the opposite corner was a chair, facing towards the massage table at a forty-five-degree angle, just like the cuckold chair next to the bed in their room. It didn’t take Cynthia long to figure out what that was for, or for Jim either. Jim took his spot on the chair while Cynthia perched on the edge of the massage table. Their attention was drawn by a sound from Tent #5 slightly down from them, the only other one that had the drapes closed, with the subtle tones of soft music coming from within as well.
“YES… YES… OH FUCK… YESSSSSSSSS!” This came out accompanied by a high-pitched squeal, which made both Cynthia and Jim smile.
“It sounds like she’s really enjoying her massage,” Jim commented.
“Good morning!” A deep resonant voice made them turn as a striking young man entered the tent. He was wearing stretchy red swim trunks and a white singlet, neither of which detracted from his impressive physique. Both of those items fit him like a second skin, leaving nothing to the imagination.
Cynthia found herself taking a quick breath as she looked him over. The term ‘built like a brick shit-house’ came immediately to her mind. He wasn’t as tall as the men she’d sucked off the night before, probably topping out at about 5′-10″. But there was nothing small about him at all. He was broad in the shoulders with a barrel chest that looked like two plates of armor beneath his singlet, the sculpted muscles beneath his smooth black skin setting her teeth on edge. The sinews in his shoulders and arms seemed to ripple mesmerizingly beneath his skin as he stepped further into the tent, like powerful cables waiting to test their strength. He had a triangular torso, like a swimmer’s, that funnelled down from his broad shoulders to a taut stomach with a clearly defined six-pack that was clearly visible through the tight singlet.
Cynthia let her gaze drift down, her eyes immediately locking on the sizable slab of man-muscle beneath his swim trunks. Her heart skipped a beat as she took in the immensity of the salami-sized cock lying crosswise, reaching almost to his hip. The enormous prick cast a teasing shadow on the red material of his trunks, emphasizing the girth of that magnificent unit. His balls matched the tremendous size of the cock they served, like two large lemons encased in the stretchy fabric of his trunks, ready to fill her with a cascade of potent semen.
Cynthia forced herself to look further down, shuddering as she looked at tree-trunk-like thighs and powerful calves, both corded with muscle beneath his gleaming black skin.
“You must be Mr. Jim,” the young man said as he stepped over and shook Jim’s hand, then turned to Cynthia.
She looked up at his attractive face, taking in a thousand-watt smile that looked like something out of a toothpaste commercial. His head was completely shaved, his bald pate shining like polished marble in the morning light. He had pronounced cheekbones that set off big dark eyes, and full lips that Cynthia wanted to lean into and kiss right there. A trimmed moustache and goatee combined with a small, hooped earring in each ear to make him look even sexier. Cynthia felt herself almost swoon as he took her delicate little hand in his big mitt and gripped it firmly, but not too firm–just right. Under that simple touch, Cynthia could already feel herself getting wet between the legs.
“And you must be Miss Cynthia.” He gave her hand a gentle practiced squeeze to let her know those hands of his were capable of magic.
“Yes, I’m… I’m Miss Cynthia,” she stammered back, feeling clumsy and embarrassed to be calling herself that.
“And I’m Devon. I’m pleased to be the one giving you your massage today.” He finally released Cynthia’s hand, which caused her to look down at it, as if she’d been touched by some other-worldly being.
“Mister Jim, if you’d like to take your seat please.” Devon nodded towards the seat in the corner while he closed and secured the flaps at the front of the tent, giving them total privacy.
Jim took his seat as Devon opened a couple of cupboards below the counter at the side of the tent. He flicked a switch or two and seconds later, the enclosed space was blessed with soothing sounds like they’d heard coming from the other tents. Even though it was very low-key and in the background, Cynthia could feel it relaxing her immediately, even though she was excited about what was to come.
“If you’d like to take off what you’re wearing, you can hang your things up over there,” Devon said as he pointed to a coat rack with numerous hooks in the back corner of the tent. “Then you can lie down on the table and cover yourself with this, please, while I get some of this oil warmed up.” He laid a fresh folded sheet on the massage table. He turned his back to her as he set out some towels and bottles of oils and lotions on the countertop. “Would you like me to start the massage on your front or on your back?” Devon paused as Cynthia hesitated. “I’ll do whatever you like, Miss Cynthia. I’m here to please you in any way I can.”
Those words made Cynthia melt. “Thank you, Devon. I think we’ll start with the front,” she said, wanting to feel those big hands on her tits as soon as possible.
“Whatever you say, Miss,” Devon replied with a smile as his gaze drifted down to the colossal shelf of her breasts before turning back to readying his supplies.
Cynthia reached up and undid the knot in the wrap at the back of her neck. She drew the flimsy piece of fabric off her body as she stepped over to the back corner. She saw that Devon kept his back to her. He stayed busy sorting out the things on the counter as she peeled off her bikini and hung it up with the wrap. She watched him pour some of the oil into a metal dish, which she could see was plugged into the counter unit. He didn’t turn around until she was lying supine on the massage table, with the folded sheet covering her from her shoulders to the tops of her thighs, her voluminous breasts settling out over the whole breadth of her chest. She could already smell the calming scent of the warming oil filling the tent and couldn’t wait to feel him smooth that slippery fluid over her sensitive mounds of flesh.
Devon finally turned in her direction, his hands rubbing together after he’d filled his palms with some of the oil. His flinty eyes lit up and the corners of his mouth turned up in an appreciative smile as he looked at her. “You have a beautiful body, Miss Cynthia,” he said as he stepped over next to the massage table, his tall muscular body looming over hers. He looked her up and down as he continued to rub his hands together, his big mitts glistening erotically as his eyes lingered for a long time on the impressive swell of her breasts. “Very beautiful.”