St. Anne's Sexy Boarding School - Sex Stories

St. Anne's Sexy Boarding School

... behind my back. Think you can grab it without peeking.” There was silence, then a giggle. “Yes. Sorry, I nodded at first, and then I realized you couldn’t see me. Okay, I’m going to grab it.” Nothing happened for a few seconds, and then I felt a hand on my butt. “That’s not the soap.” She squealed, and removed her hand. “Sorry!” “That’s okay. The soap is more to the left. Your left, that is, if you really have your back to me, and aren’t peeking at me and using blindness as an excuse to cope a feel.” “I would never!” I chuckled at her tone of righteous outrage. But she grabbed the soap from my hand this time. I rinsed the shampoo off my hair. There were five other bars of soap on the shelf, but I decided to pretend that there was only one – the one she had. “If you’re done with the soap, could you pass it back to me? It’s the only bar.” “Oh, ummm.” “Yes? What is it?” “Well you see, I can’t soap up my back.” “I can’t actually see you, but I suppose could be a problem. But is your back all that dirty?” “A lady is never dirty! But I can’t shower without cleaning all of me! That would be a waste. Normally I have one of my sisters do my back when we shower together, but they’re obviously not here.” “I see.” Her too innocent voice immediately put me in mind of incestuous lesbian shower orgies, which were incredibly hot to contemplate. “Well, I guess you’ll just have to go without today.” “Or…” “Or?” “Or you could soap my back, mister.” “I thought you didn’t want me looking at ...

... you?” “I don’t! But I want my back clean. Maybe you could close your eyes?” “That seems risky. Without being able to see you, I could end up touching you… anywhere.” Ye Gods it was fun to play the part of the ambiguously lecherous man! I knew Valerie would understand and appreciate all of the innuendo. But the real question was how much her character would get. Silence greeted my pronouncement. “Well? What will it be?” “You… you can keep them open I guess.” I turned around and took a step forward. I was almost touching her. She could probably feel my breath on the back of her neck. “Hand me the soap.” She shivered, but passed the soap over her shoulder to me. She kept looking dead ahead. I accepted the soap, and slowly lathered my hands up. I didn’t want to use the bar when I could use my hands, and feel her skin under them. Once I was ready (and I’d given her several moments to anticipate it), I reached out a sudsy hand, and massaged the soap onto her right shoulder. She gasped. “Is anything wrong?” “It’s okay… I just feel funny. You know, down there.” I could hear the blush in her words. And I could empathize; I was certainly feeling funny down ‘there’. I kept rubbing the soap in. As I removed my hand and replaced it with the other hand on her other shoulder, she shivered briefly. Her shoulders and neck were first. Her wet skin was firm and feverish under my fingers. I could feel the interplay of her muscles beneath the skin as she tensed and relaxed in response to my ...