Chapter 3: Touches - Sex Stories

Chapter 3: Touches

It was still light, but dusk was casting long shadows across the room; as the sun fell, the temperature followed suit, so we’d closed the French doors and lit the wood burner, which crackled gently in the background as we chatted. We were occupying either end of the sofa, nursing our third glass of wine each after a supper of quiche and salad.

There was a charge in the air, relaxed but expectant, the sense that we were prolonging the delicious inevitability of…something more. T was sitting sideways, her legs stretched across with her ankles on my knees, and I was semi-absent-mindedly kneading her feet as we chatted. She moaned slightly as I rolled my thumbs under the arches of her feet, popping the bubbles of tension there.

‘Oh my God, where did you learn to do that?” T exclaimed, “It almost hurts, but it’s divine.”

“Believe it or not, I did a foot massage course in Thailand aeons ago. I can’t remember all of the steps, but I have retained most of the principles,” I replied.

“You seem to be a man of many talents. Please don’t stop!” she purred as she took another sip of wine.

“Okey-dokey,” I retorted. I continued my efforts, gently pulling and pressing under the backs of T’s toes before doing the same along and between the bones on the tops of her feet. “The whole massage included working the legs and thighs,” I added, catching her eye, “it can take quite a while.”

“Well, don’t expect me to stand in the way of the wisdom of Thai medicine. I willingly ...

... surrender to your expert ministrations,” she chortled while looking me dead in the eye as she stretched her smooth, brown legs slightly further towards me. Her short skirt rose up slightly as she did so, and I could sense, rather than see, ‘the promised land’ between her legs.

I pressed the flesh on either side of T’s shins, digging into the meat firmly but not too hard before reaching underneath to repeat the process with her calves and the backs of her knees. T was nursing her glass on her chest but now had her head tipped back, her eyes closed, and a slight smile on her face. She drew her feet back a little, bending her legs at the knee, and let them drift apart slightly to give me better access to her leg muscles.

This slight change in leg position had the additional benefit of giving me a clear view between T’s legs. True to our rules, she wasn’t wearing any underwear, and I could see the top of her shortly-trimmed bush.

“Why have you stopped?” T asked lasciviously, her eyes still closed but her voice thick with suggestion.

I realised I’d been holding my breath, and I exhaled before I replied, “Momentary loss of concentration, I do apologise,” as I continued my ministrations. I pushed my hands past her knees to her thighs, pressing down with the palms of my hands before dragging the tips of my fingers back down them repeatedly. I did this across the tops of her legs before rubbing more gently on the inside, before moving underneath and kneading the backs of her ...