02. Giving Jess a Hand - Sex Stories

02. Giving Jess a Hand

... candles. Come sunset, when we would normally stop, I headed off to the chippy and could hear the squeak of delight from outside the cottage as she discovered the surprise in the bathroom. When I got back to our “lounge” (essentially some tarpaulin covered boxes in the one warm, non-dusty room in the house) I took a moth-eaten, hard, old day bed and covered it in more tarpaulins to make a wide low table. I lit the fire and put some great big logs on it and put out glasses, but drew the line at more candles. The last thing I wanted was to make it look more like a cheap seduction than a treat. Jess took a good long time in the bath and was sleepy-eyed and relaxed when she padded into the lounge in an oversized terry-cloth bathrobe, drying her hair. “Thank you so much! Oh chips yummy.” She flopped down opposite me at our new table and I plonked the fire-warmed bundle of chips in front of her. “There’s still some heat in the bath if you don’t mind dirty girl water?” she offered, suddenly flushing at just how just rude that sounded. I jumped at the opportunity for the bath but not the double entendre, leaving her to her chips and embarrassment. “I left you some pyjamas, too if you want!” She shouted up after me. I scrubbed quickly in the lukewarm water and had a cold rinse with the shower. Feeling much refreshed, I dressed in the clean clothes (literally some 1940’s stripy pyjama bottoms and a vest) and returned to my workmate before she’d even finished her chips. She blushed at ...

... my bizarrely old-fashioned costume as I unwrapped my meal, and then produced an old bottle of red wine from some old box and we started to relax properly. “Was it still ok? The water?” she asked, washing her hands and squeezing moisturiser into the palms. I nodded. “Yep, still warm. No dirty girls in it though, unfortunately.” She sniggered, sipped and shrugged. I despatched the food and wrapping, and a slightly awkward silence flopped on top of us. She stretched and winced, complaining, “God I am so achy.” Sitting cross-legged, she rubbed one foot. I gestured to her moisturiser. “I’ll give you a foot rub if you like?” Her face lit up. “No? Really? Jesus you are turning into my complete hero.” She tossed over the cream and swung her feet up onto the ‘table’. They were sweet sort of podgy feet. I’m not really a foot person but these were most attractive. I squeezed cream on them like sauce on an ice cream and started rubbing one in each hand with my thumbs. She sighed, “lovely,” and settled back. Awkwardness dissipated and our conversation flowed this way and that. I must have spent half an hour petting her feet, which I have to say, I found very calming. I could feel tension leaving her body and the space between us sort of growing warmer. When I finished her eyes were nearly closed in bliss, but sort of glittering underneath. She smirked at me. “BC, have you got a girlfriend?” I shook my head. “Not at the moment, you?” “I don’t have a girlfriend, no. Or a boyfriend, or….” She ...