Happy Ending: Part 2

Slick with massage oil, his hands caressed over my bare back. They glided over my taunt muscles with just enough pressure to locate areas of tension without my initial fear of being broken. I felt like I was melting into the table.

Paul broke the silence. “How’s the pressure?”

I moaned pleasurably, no longer caring about seeming sexual. Becky was right. I needed a man’s touch. He stood by my head and I half watched his bare-feet as his hands stroked down my spine torwards my butt.

In high school, his sister and I were seniors and never paid her freshman brother any notice unless he was monopolizing some section of the house we needed. She would yell at him and I would smile politely as he left, his eyes towards the floor until the last second when he would glance at me. I had suspected he had a crush on me but he was so shy I thought he would freak out if I brought it up. I never told his sister.

He held the sheet by my hip and flipped part of it over to expose my leg. Though my head was facedown in a donut shaped hole, I knew I was blushing. His fingers worked their way up my calf to my thigh. I felt my entire body shiver.

His hands let go of me. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled.

I picked up my head and turned it towards him. “No, it’s me. I haven’t had — I haven’t been touched in — I haven’t had a massage before,” I lied, stumbling through a jumble of excuses.

He turned his head away from me and I looked down to realize I’d exposed my breasts when I’d sat up partially. “Oh, god!” I exclaimed as I pulled at the sheet to cover my naked body. I hadn’t spoken with his sister in years and I hoped this isn’t the way he’ll remind her of me. “Now, I’m sorry.”

With his back still towards me he mumbled something but I couldn’t make it out over the soft rhythmic hums. “What?”

He rotated his head without his body following. “Maybe we should stop.”

“Paul, I didn’t mean to.” Frantic to patch up the awkwardness, an explosion of words escape my mouth before I could filter. “Please don’t tell your sister you saw my boobs. I’m tired and wasn’t thinking and I only jumped because, honestly, it’s been a bit since, well since I’ve been physically touch and I felt– It doesn’t matter how I felt because it’s not a reflection of you as a therapist and I just want you to know…”

He turned around with his hands crossed in front of him with an unusual look on his face. “Stop. I shouldn’t of — It’s just…” He looked down at the floor and I followed his gaze. His hand were cupped over his crotch. “I’m not acting professionally.”

He was hiding his erection.


Without look up he grunted softly.

I let go of the sheet and let it fall, exposing my naked body to him. “Do you still have a crush on me?” His eyes took me in without responding. I motioned for him to come closer. Each step he took I widen my legs and inhaled some bravery. I’d had a fantasy about this during sleepovers.

My hands pulled his face towards mine as I rolled onto my back. We kissed and he tasted like lilac and cream. His warm hands felt my body but with a renew fervor. I pulled at his linen shirt until he lifted his arms and allowed it to slide over his head. His fingers pushed at his waistband until they joined the sheet on the floor.

Slick with my personal lubricant, his erection slides over my pussy lips as easily as his hands massaged my back. I stroke his cock and gently handle his balls. Had I known what my best friend’s kid brother was working with, I’d would have asked him to prom.

My legs wrapped around his waist as he entered me slowly, pushing through the metaphoric cobwebs. I felt the walls of my vagina stretch and I let out a small breathy moan against his lips. He kissed my forehead, taking his time to enter me.

“I can’t tell you how long I’ve wanted this,” he whispered. “I never thought it would happen when you left for college.”

I hushed him with a kiss. He rocked his hips into me in tempo with the music tones. When I felt like my body had finally opened up to him completely, the heels of my feet depressed into his butt cheeks to quicken the pace.

He made love to me the way only someone who has wanted you for over a decade can; patiently but with exuberance. Paul held me tenderly, still massage parts of me as he thrusted. He made my inside feel better than he made my outside. He gave me the full package.

Our breathing quickened and I felt myself on the verge of climax. Paul’s face strained. “Will you have dinner with me?”

“What?” I gasped.

“Dinner. This weekend.” He pressed his lips together and stared into my eyes as if pleading.

His pace quicken and I screamed as I orgasmed, “Yes! Yes!”

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