02. Giving Jess a Hand - Sex Stories

02. Giving Jess a Hand

... stretched her hands out and cupped her toes, narrowing her eyes. “…or any intention of acquiring one at the moment.” She stared at me, biting her lip. “Is that ok? I want to travel and don’t want any sad complications or--” I jumped in. “Me too! Not the travelling bit, the single bit. I didn’t mean to give you the wrong impression. Not that I wouldn’t! Um… if you weren’t… I mean you are incredibly attractive and if you were I would and…” I gave up. “More wine?” She nodded eagerly and burst a sigh. “Fuck I’m so glad that’s out in the open!” We both laughed, and gulped. Jess took her feet off the table, wincing as she shifted and reclined. “I know it’s a cheeky request but would you… rub my shoulders for me too?” I grabbed the cream. With a small cheer, she bum-shuffled over to my side of the table, swung her hair forward and lowered her bathrobe. I squeezed moisturiser onto her perfect pale skin and my heart jackhammered. I rubbed her strong, elegant neck and shoulders. She mewled as I rubbed her tightness away, gradually melting under my hands. “God you are so good,” she sighed and rolled her shoulders. My thumbs wandered further down her back, pushing the collar of her robe lower and forcing her to hold the front to her breasts. “I’m just aching all over.” She croaked. “Well, why don’t I just rub you all over then?” I said, without missing a jackhammer’s beat. She hummed. I prepared myself for rejection and two weeks of awkwardness, but almost cheered when she said quietly, ...

... “That does sound good.” She patted the makeshift table. “I suppose I could lay on this. Are you sure you don’t mind?” “Sounds hideous,” I said, making her chuckle. I took the collar of the robe. “This will need to come off though.” “Um. I’m not wearing anything underneath…” “Don’t worry about that,” I said gallantly, “Neither am I!” She rolled her eyes, unfastened the gown and let me take it off her. And with that small gesture the whole evening, and some small part of the following week, completely changed. Shrugged off with two tons of terry cloth bathrobe. With admirable neatness she arranged herself on the table, face down, head on hands, knees together and I rubbed my trembling hands together. The firelight perfectly illuminated her lithe back and curvy hips, fit sturdy legs and an irresistible bottom. She looked over her shoulder, raising her eyebrows at where my pyjamas had ‘mysteriously’ tented out front. Her eyes shone. My ears warmed. I grabbed the waistband. “Shall I just take these off?” She nodded and flushed, eyes like a cat’s, locked to a treat. I removed the clothing quickly, and pulled off the vest too while I was at it, trying not to notice the badly hidden lusty look my hard-on was getting. I gestured her to lie back down and squeezed the moisturiser on her back. A giggle skipped down the octaves to a low hum as I knelt astride her thighs and started work. I took my time, covering her whole back again, working hard with thumbs, palms and fingers up and down ...