I suppose I was naive. Very naive, for a guy of 23. I had put my back out playing tennis, went to the doctor, and he suggested that I should find a masseur. "Do you a world of good," he said. Well, I had never used a masseur before, and instead of looking in the yellow pages or asking the doctor's receptionist to suggest one, I looked in the columns of my local newspaper, the "Kensington and Chelsea Poat.".

There were plenty of advertisements for female masseuses - but they all seemed, well, a little odd. "Scandinavian Britta, 38DD, will take you to heaven, Sloane Square," said one; "Stunning young South African lady, body builder, will blow your mind," said another. But I didn't want my mind blown, I wanted my back curing. Another seemed a little more promising: "1 hr Swedish massage by slim qualified Spanish therapist," said a third, but then added "will give you a wild and sensual time - call Stacey." Somehow I didn't fancy any of these, and though Heidi ("slim, blonde") said that "shy or confident" she would welcome me, I somehow didn't like the look of any of the ads. I hadn't had much experience of women, anyway; I was shy with them, and though I'd dated a couple, and even ended up in bed with one, but the experience hadn't given me a great deal of pleasure. She was pleasant enough, but her huge soft breasts hadn't done anything for my libido. Apart from that one experience, I was pretty much a virgin.

Fortunately, there was a section in the paper headed "Men for Men", and there was a number of masseurs advertised. Some of them seemed a little strange, too: "Asian boy, stunning, cute, sexy, friendly, discreet - ring Tariq." And "Very straight acting bi-lad offers full horny service for straight, bi-, curious, first time, labourer-type men, businessmen, XXX, big, thick! Luxury apartment, Olympia, complimentary bar." What??? Massage and drinks? Then "Jimmy, a New South American boy in the city, athletic body, does massage and personal services..." What could that mean? Personal services? Did he change traveler's cheques, or what? Then I saw "Ben, handsome black man, friendly, relaxing, discreet service. West Kensington, near tube." That seemed straightforward enough, and I had nothing against black guys. So I and rang the phone number given. A dark brown voice answered.

"Bob?" I asked.

"Yep," he said.

"I was thinking of a massage," I said.

"Well thought's a great thing," he said, "but action's better."

"Ah, yes," I said uncertainly. "What's the fee"

"Fifty pounds for an hour's session," he said.

It seemed quite a lot - but then I'd had no experience of what masseurs charged, and my back hurt.

"Right," I said. "Where's your... um... surgery?"

He laughed at that, and gave me an address.

"Want to come straight over?" he said.

That seemed a bit strange, too - I'd expected to have to wait perhaps for a few days. But, "That'd be good," I said.

The address was in West London, in a handsome street of Victorian houses. I found the address, and rang the bell marked "Bob." After a while he answered, and the door-lock clicked, and I went in and climbed to the first floor. It opened to my ring.

Bob was tall - over six feet high - and jet black. He came, I learned later, from Goa. He wore a full-length yellow silk gown which wasn't completely closed; I could see he was wearing yellow boxer shorts underneath it. The black skin of his chest and upper belly was shiny and smooth. He looked great, I thought.

"Hi," he said. "Come right in."

He opened a door inside the apartment.

"Get yourself ready," he said; "I'll be in in a minute."

The room was small, and there was a large single bed against one wall, which was almost completely covered by a mirror; there was a mirror on the opposite wall, too. Well, I suppose he needed to see what he was doing, I thought, though I had expected a proper massage table. I stripped and hung my clothes on a sellection of hangers on the back of the door. I sat on the edge of the bed.

After a while, there was a knock, and Bob came in. He took off his gown and put it on a chair. Wow!, I thought. His body was magnificent: a broad shoulders and and equally broad chest, smooth as a baby's bottom, and tapering to a narrow waist and hips. His thighs were smooth, too, muscular and firm. In fact as far as I could see there wasn't a hair on his body. I liked it.

"Would you like a massage first?" he said.

First, I thought. What could that mean? Anyway, "Please," I said.

"O.K., lie down," he said.

I lay on my stomach on the bed.

"You mind oil?" he asked.

"No," I said - well, if that was what he used...

"Mind if I sit on you?" he asked.

That seemed a little strange, too; but when I said of course he could, he knelt astride me, then sat on my buttocks. He oiled his hands, placed them on my shoulders, and began massaging my shoulders and neck. Then he moved to my spine.

He was good. After five minutes or so, my back began to feel a great deal better. Then he knelt up, and moved down, gently partly my legs so that he could kneel between them. He oiled his hands again, and worked on my feet, then my shins, then my thighs. After a while the stroke he was making began to move closer and closer into my groin. Embarrassingly, I found I was getting a hard-on. Oh, well, it couldn't be helped. At least he couldn't see what was going on, though he may have guessed as I shifted slightly to try to make myself comfortable.

Now, he slipped his right hand right into my groin so that his fingers were under the left side of the top of my thigh and his thumb... well, it was placed gently over my ass-hole. I felt embarrassed about that, too - but well, if that was necessary - actually, it wasn't unpleasant. In fact... my hard-on began to assert itself as he gently massaged the inside my of thigh, and gently stroked my hole with his thumb. He took his hand away, and replaced it with his left hand, and began working on my right thigh. Then he stopped. To my amazement, he climbed off the bed, stood at the side, and took off his boxers! My embarrassment and surprise were only equalled by my pleasure as the sight of his now completely naked body. I had seen other guys in the showers, of course, but not really looked at them - well, you don't, do you? Stare at other naked guys, I mean. Only - well, fairies, or whatever you call them, did that. And I wasn't one of them. But I couldn't help staring at Bob: for one thing, he had the biggest cock I had ever seen: it hung down below a little thicket of black curly hair, and must have been seven inches, and thick in proportion. The foreskin was half pulled back over the head, which was dark purple and slightly shiny. He took a step forward and just stood there, almost as though he expected me to do something, his cock hanging slightly to one side against a muscular thigh, a pair of larege, smooth balls beneath it. I gave an uncertain smile.

"O.K.," he said, "you're right - there's plenty of time."

He climbed astride me again, and this time squatted on one of my legs: I felt the warmth of his balls and cock on my calf. He began massaging my buttocks, the palm of a hand on each, gently kneading them, gently pulling them apart. I felt cool air around my ass-hole.

"Wow!" he said, "I just love all that hair!"

My former embarrassment was small compared to what I felt now. I had always hated my body for being hairy - not that my chest was very hairy, but my arms and legs were - and when I looked at myself in the mirror and saw the hair all over my ass, and growing thickly in the crack - well, I just long to be smooth, that was all. But Bob was now gently smoothing the hair with his fingers - and then, well, shit!!, he leaned down and rubbed his cheek against my ass, and in a while I felt something very strange... at first I thought he had wet his finger and was gently probing me, then I realised - it was his tongue! I felt it playing around my ass-hole, then actually pushing its way in; then his lips were pulling gently on the hairs...

I'd been too concerned with what was going on to think about my reactions, but I now realised not only that my cock was harder than it had ever been in my life, but that I desperately wanted to jack off. I moved. He sighed, and sat up, and I turned over.

I had no need to be ashamed of my cock. All right, it might not be as big as Bob's, but it certainly wasn't small, and it was standing right up against my belly. I put my hand on it and began to stroke, carefully not catching his eye. If I offended him, when bloody hell he shouldn't have started...

But he gently took my hand away.

"We can do better than that," he said, and bent over.

Never in my wildest dreams had I thought that anybody would want to suck my cock. I had read abut it, of course, and even seen some blowsy women doing it in porn magazines; but another man - and he was sucking me with real pleasure, it seemed, holding the base of my cock with his hand so that when he wasn't actually sucking on it he could move it gently over his full, wet lips and against his cheek. His eyes were open, and even when he was sucking on me I was sure he would be smiling if his mouth hadn't been full! With a daring of which I wouldn't have believed myself capable, I slid my hand down his side to his thigh, then over until I could feel his cock. It didn't feel much bigger than it had looked (later, I realised that it was true what they said about black guys - that their cocks don't actually grow much bigger when they are erect; but then, they don't need to!) It was hard as iron, though. I moved the skin gently over the muscular surface, and felt his lips tighten on my own cock.

I was ready to come in no time - but he must have felt it in some way, because he listed his face and did smile at me, still holding the base of my cock with his right hand.

"I really want to fuck you," he said. "It's all that hair. Would you mind?"

Hell! I didn't know how to answer that question. He wanted to put that very large cock in my little ass-hole! But though I shrank from the idea, it also excited me. Well, what the hell; I was on a learning curve, wasn't I?

I grinned, and turned on my face again.

He got up and took a package from a drawer in a little table by the bed, tore it open with his teeth, and took out a condom.

"Want to put it on for me?" he said.

I turned, took it, and tried to put it on - inside out. He grinned. He must have realised by now just how inexperienced I was - but I think it excited him. The second time, I managed to get the rubber over the tip of his cock, which was slightly slippery with pre-cum, and rolled the yellow rubber down over the black skin. It wouldn't cover the whole length, just coming short of the wiry black hair. He squeezed lubricant onto the palm of my hand, and I rubbed it gently over his cock; the feel of that iron-hard, warm muscle was one of the best things ever.

He grinned.

"Turn over," he said; "I'll give you a good rimming - relax you!"

If his tongue had given me pleasure before, now it almost made me come into the mattress I was lying on! It played around the rim of my ass-hole, then began to tease the hole itself before actually beginning to fuck it with the warm, pointed end; all the time, his hands were running over my back, down the spine, into the pits of my arms, then holding the cheeks of my buttocks apart so that he could tongue me more intimately.

After a while, he stopped; then I felt his fingers - they were coated with more lubricant, and after rubbing it a little over the surface of my ass-hole, I felt one slipping inside me. Then two. I was now so relaxed that he could have inserted his whole arm until he could finger my tonsils. He gently probed me, then I felt his body warm on top of mine - the whole length of it.

"May I kiss you first?" he asked - and I tasted my own odour on his lips as they gently took my lower lip between them and sucked a little on it.

He raised himself slightly, and I felt the end of his cock press against my ass-hole, and then gently enter me. To my amazement, it was a wonderful feeling; and as he began gently to move it in and out, ti became more wonderful. I'd be hard put to it to describe just how it felt - all I knew is that I'd been wasting the last ten years. I glanced sideways at the mirror, and caught his eye: he watched, too, lifting himself so that we could watch the thick black prong slowly withdrawing from the white cheeks of my ass - whiter by contrast with his own black skin. His movements began to accelerate. He was sweating now; I could see beads of shining water slipping down his sides, and in a while I could feel his belly slippery against my buttocks when he sometimes paused, his cock deep inside me.

In a while, he began to move more quickly; I could hear him panting, and see his white teeth clenched on his lower lip. Then with one final lunge he speared me as deeply as he could, and I felt his cock jump inside me, and he lay still.

"Wow! - thank you!" he said after a moment, and very slowly pulled his cock out - the feeling as it slid out was even better than when it had entered me, and as its head distended my ass-hole and finally left me, it was as though somebody had give me an electric shock.

"Turn over," he said; "it's got to be your turn."

I was so excited that it didn't take long for him to suck me off. Also, he was very professional - well, you'd have expected it, even if I didn't. However, when I saw him again - and that was only in a couple of days - we had a talk, and I soon realised that if I wanted a really professional massage I ought to look somewhere else. But actually, my back felt much better - and anyway, I didn't want to look anywhere else. I went back to Bob, oh, about twenty times in the following six months, and what he taught me about sucking, rimming and fucking could be written on the back of a postage stamp. I got a real taste for sucking cock, from the first moment I got my lips around that big, smooth, slippery, juicy head, pushing the foreskin back over it with my lips, and feeling the hard ridge around it, above the smoother tube of the cock itself. And the first time I came with his hard cock in my mouth - well, talk about the best thing since sliced bread!

Then I branched out, and began actually looking at other guys in the shower, and my education became a great deal cheaper. Even a couple of guys I knew to be straight - well, at any rate married - accepted my invitation to soap their backs, and when I slid a soapy finger between the cheeks of their asses... Let's say they didn't ask for a fee.

So I'd recommend any guy reading this who needs teaching, to do as I did. There's nothing like a really professional masseur.