Chitown
11-05-2011, 01:24 PM
Thanksgiving 2010 featuring Selena Gomez
Part 1 Personal Interaction
Written by chitown
The following is a work of fiction, containing material of a somewhat explicit nature, intended to entertain adults. If that’s going to trouble you, or not permitted to you for some reason, read no further.
“Hey, are you something special?”
Even after working with her for 2 years, Selena’s voice still sent shivers through me. I looked up at my angel’s face, in confusion, “What?”
Still standing at the door to my office, “I noticed, even if no one else did, that Todd gave you a free pass when we were all discussing plans for Thanksgiving.”
“Maybe he knows what my plans are.” The same they’d been the last 3 years, though with a twist this year.
“So, spill.”
I sighed, this wasn’t a conversation I was ready to have, and certainly not with Selena Gomez. At its absolute best outcome, it would get me a pity fuck, but it was so much more likely to get my ass fired and blacklisted I sometimes had nightmares. But lying to her about it wasn’t really an option, it was too important to me. “If you really want to know,” I watched her face, hoping to see it glazed over and wanting to move on, but she was genuinely interested, “grab a seat. This may take a few minutes to explain.”
I pulled a binder of newspaper clippings from my bottom drawer, and handed it to her across the desk. It told the story of an extended family: mother, father, his sister, four sons, 3 daughters-in-law, two nieces, six grandkids; gathered to celebrate Thanksgiving in 2006, brutally murdered that morning. A fifth son survived through the simple expedient of being on the early shift at his restaurant job. After watching her read for a minute, I turned away a bit and started talking.
“During conversation Wednesday night my brother had talked about the problems he had with the production of sit-coms nowadays. The characters always seem to be yelling at each other, never talking to each other. Hannah Montana was a specific example he used, repeatedly. The next day my world collapsed. I think it’s accurate to say I was lost, but one thing I did was start watching HM. I think he was right, but I continued to watch anyway. My world changed again in July the next summer. The Monday after the first Makayla episode aired, I got my shit together, and I was moved to LA by that Friday. It took me a year to get a job with Disney, but here I am, a junior writer on the WoWP team.
“Each of the last 3 years, I’ve spent Thanksgiving week visiting cemeteries in St Louis, Milwaukee, and Cleveland. This year the time will be shorter, because I’ll be in Dallas on Friday and Tulsa on Saturday.”
I turned to look for her reaction to find her sobbing, tears streaming down her face. I bolted up out of my chair and around the desk to hug her, “Aw shit, Sel, don’t cry.”
“I can’t help it. This is … fucking heartbreaking.”
“No, no … well yes, but in time it was liberating. It gave me the strength to come here, to follow my dream.”
She seemed to be gaining control of herself, “Why didn’t you tell anyone?”
I waited a moment, “It wasn’t important for them to know.”
“Then why tell me?”
I used my thumbs to wipe the tears from her eyes, and then her cheeks, “You asked.”
She gave me a funny look, stood up, placed the binder on my desk, said “Thank you,” and walked out the door.
I looked at my watch: 2 o’clock. Well, I certainly wasn’t going to get anything done the rest of the day, so I quickly catalogued what was my personal stuff, what was theirs, and what I should throw away. Then I just sat and waited for the knock signaling the next shift in my life. By 5 the office was pretty quiet, so I left. After all I had a flight to St Louis in the morning.
***
Next Friday, in Texas, I got to the Verizon Theatre in Grand Prairie around noon and just hung around outside, feeling a bit weird as the only 20something male in a growing crowd of teenage girls, and the occasional parent. Event Staff wrangled those of us with “Meet & Greets” into line about 5:30 and then we began to creep forward. Finally it’s my turn to walk around the partition and ”Meet” Selena, and when she first sees me, she looks totally confused. Quickly she rallies and totally surprises me, and I daresay herself, by bouncing forward throwing her arms around my neck and locking lips with me. Somebody clears their throat and suddenly she comes back to reality, dragging me along with her.
“Oh my, I’m just so glad you’re here. I asked around and nobody knew anything about you requesting tickets, so I thought I misunderstood.”
“I bought it through the fan club”
“Hey guys can we get you to pose for the photo, there’s others in line,” interrupted the photographer.
“Umm, sure,” but she gave my hand a squeeze as we moved to stand side by side, arms around each others’ waist.
And then security was saying, “This way please”
I looked back at her and she mouthed “Thanks for coming”
So sweet, like I was doing her a favor.
The show, for her hometown crowd, was fantastic, and I was so wired afterwards that I couldn’t sleep, or maybe it was the memory of that kiss.
After driving from Dallas to Tulsa in the morning, Saturday afternoon at the Brady Theatre played out much the same as Friday.
When it was my turn in line, Selena gave me that 1000 watt smile, a big hug, and whispered in my ear, “After the show, join us backstage.”
After we posed for the photo she pressed something into my hand. Walking away I looked at it to discover an All Access laminate. I turned back to look; she’d been watching me and nodded, still smiling.
The show was amazing, the first time I’d ever had a front row seat. I swear we made eye contact several times. Afterward I didn’t really know where backstage I was going, and the event security seemed to think if I was legit I should. Eventually I found where I needed to be.
“You made it.” Another hug, I could get used to this. “I was worried you were going to stand me up. We’re having a little get-together at the hotel. Be my date?”
Didn’t need to ask me twice, “Certainly”
In a banquet room with catered snack table and soft drinks (BYOB), a DJ spun tunes. The Scene and the crew laughed, talked, danced for a few hours. I did notice everyone seemed paired up, and as they started drifting out I had to wonder where this evening was headed. While they hadn’t made any specific public splash, people around her knew she was dating the Canadian YouTube kid.
Things were really winding down about 1 am, “Thank you, Selena, truly this has been the best night of my life. I think I need to find a ride back to the Brady to collect my rental and head to my motel.”
After a moment’s hesitation, “Wait here,” and she bounded off to talk to Brian. She came back brandishing a key card.
“The ride will be easier to manage in the morning. We have a couple extra rooms, because we took the whole floor. You should stay here.” Again she put a piece of plastic in my hand.
I gave her hug (couldn’t resist) “Thank you”
“Sweet dreams” as she headed back over to Brian.
Having taken a shower I was lying on the queen size bed trying to fall asleep to HBO when I thought I heard a knock. Muted the TV and yep there it was again.
Through the peephole I see her, face turned away but I recognize that brunette mane, topping her stripped t-shirt and skinny jeans. I crack the door, “Selena?”
She turned to face me, looking like she might have been crying, “I really need someone to talk to, but they’re all …. Occupied.”
“OK” I release the chain lock, and open the door, “come on in”
She marches in, paces across the room a couple times and sits on the edge of the bed. Part of me wonders what the hell is going on, hasn’t she noticed all I’m wearing is a pair of boxer/briefs? Am I so physically unimposing that it doesn’t matter? Or is this some deeper game? Of course a larger part of me doesn’t care, I’m living a fantasy come true.
Suddenly she looks right at me, “If you spend a holiday away from your family, to spend it with someone else’s family, doesn’t that mean things are becoming more serious?”
She looked totally vulnerable, searching my face for something, “Yes, for me, it would mean I was committed, but I think I need some more info if I’m going to help you.”
“He spent Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday with me in Grand Prairie. We even tweeted a Thanksgiving family photo on Thursday. Today he’s tweeting a liplock from a lunch date with Caitlin and another from his dinner with Jasmine. What the hell is that?”
I’m not sure how what he’d done was so different from what we’d done but there’s no way I want to help the little prick. On the other hand I’d sell my soul to help her so …
I sat down next to her, put my arm around her shoulders, and felt just how tense she was.
“I think before I answer that, you need to relax. Let me give you a back rub.”
I moved onto the bed to kneel behind her and grasped her shoulders. As I started to knead her muscles with my thumbs, I tried to square her shoulders.
“Has anyone ever told you, you should try pulling your shoulders back?”
I felt her chuckle, “All the time”
“Then I won’t repeat it …”
Her bra straps were inconveniently in the way as I worked from the top of her shoulders to her blades. I could feel her breathing slow and deepen.
“That feels so good”
“Relax” A moment later “Empty your mind”
“Mmm-kay”
When my thumbs reached the band, I skipped down to her waist, and began to work my way back up. Several minutes later, when my hands had travelled up to where they’d jumped down from, I let them drop to my knees.
Selena sighed, “That’s wonderful. You’re a natural.”
I had to smile at that. “Not really. I took a few massage therapy classes.”
She twisted around to look at me, and I could detect an almost feverish glint in her eyes. “So you could give a real massage?”
“In theory, yes”
“Can I have one, now?”
“Selena, this is hardly the place; no table, no oils-“
“We can use the bath oil; check the cabinet,” she said with a knowing smile, “as for the table we’ll improvise. Please?”
Like I was going to say no.
I got up to check the bathroom vanity. She was right; there were a couple different oils available. I picked a floral scented one, grabbed a couple towels, and returned to the room to find her lying on her stomach across the foot of the bed, wearing only a pair of pale pink cotton panties. My already half erect penis gave a twitch of excitement, starting to grow harder. As I approached the bed I hoped she’d keep her head turned away. I laid a bath towel over each leg and a hand towel across her back, leaving her arms exposed.
“What’s that for?”
“A couple things really. To prevent you getting chilled. To highlight where I’ll be working. To preserve modesty.”
She mumbled, “We’re both in our underwear, I think the modesty ship is leaving the harbor.”
So she had noticed, “All the same, it’s what I was taught.”
I rubbed my palms together for friction before twisting open the oil. Since I’d already worked on her back I started with her lovely arms. One, then the other, I shifted them out from her body to knead her toned supple limbs. Reaching across to the far side wasn’t ideal for the massage process, but did rub my crotch against the edge of the bed, providing some relief to me. With her reputation for being a junk food hound she must work out regularly, if not intensely, because she was certainly firm but still soft.
I let one hand linger on her upturned palm as I reached to fold the bath towels to expose her feet and lower legs. It was actually a backward step in the standard progression, but I’d messed that up by essentially starting with her back, which would normally be the end point. When I transferred down to her feet, a soft moan of pleasure escaped her. I fought the urge to take her succulent little toes into my mouth as I stroked and smoothed her arches. Moving up to her calves, I marveled at their tone. For someone who disdained high heels except when absolutely required for professional reasons, her legs were marvelous. I almost didn’t need to use oil, her skin was so silky smooth. I mused it must be result of the laser hair removal and proactive moisturizing.
When I first moved one towel to recover her calves and feet, and the other to just over her buttocks, giving access to her hamstrings, I thought I noticed a darkened patch of moisture in the crotch of her panties. “Surely she can’t be getting off on this,” I told myself. It’s just a massage. When I started working the back of her thighs she wiggled a smidge to spread her legs more, giving me access to the inside of her thighs, and a view of her dampened underwear. I worked her muscles from the knee up, trying to concentrate through the distraction. I noticed the aroma of her arousal over the floral scent about this time. Near the end I inadvertently grazed the slick cotton covering her sex. I feared the groan of pleasure could be heard on the street below. Somehow my rational side won a round, and instead of doing something stupid, I found myself resetting the towels on her legs and removing the one on her back.
I found myself dripping oil on her shoulder blades, and again rubbing my hands to build some friction warmth, went to work on her bare back. I found myself tracing her ribs to her sides wanting to do something “fresh”. My erection was becoming painful in its intensity as I kneaded her already pliant back, gradually making my way down to her waist. Finally, I was able to bring myself to restore the towel across her back, but I gave her a playful slap on her luscious little derriere and said,
‘’OK, all done.” I capped the half empty bottle and took a step toward the bath when I heard her languid voice over the rustling comforter,
“You meant, roll over, right?”
I turned around and stood transfixed. She lay on her back, her gorgeous gams parted comfortably, giving me a clear view of the sodden cloth covering what appeared to be a neatly trimmed bush above her bare labia. Beyond a slowly, softly rising and falling smooth and flat abdomen her firm young breasts fought gravity to stay high on her chest, small brown areola hosting pink nipples starting to perk up. It felt like an hour before I was able force myself to look at her face, full lips slightly parted, eyes closed, cheeks slightly flushed, surrounded by waves of brunette silk.
Truthfully, I knew where this was headed (I thought), knew it was a disaster for me, but I was powerless to stop. This is what she wanted, this is what she was going to get and damn the consequences. Let’s be honest, I’d wanted this for 3 and a half years, at least now it was legal.
So I stepped back to the bed, didn’t bother with arranging the towels, opened the vial of oil and went back to it. I made quick work of finishing her lower legs and moved up to her quads. I luxuriated in the suppleness of her legs’ muscles, and it was with a genuine regret I gave them up when further manipulation would be counterproductive. Still I couldn’t resist a slower, more intense brush with my hand between her legs as I slid over to work her upper body. Her gasp, or probably the heated contact with her covered love furnace, sent a bolt through my body.
I gave her arms a cursory second go, before laying hands on that delectable abdomen. Firm, but with just enough soft roundness to make it irresistible. When I found myself working it impatiently up toward her chest, I jumped her mounds to work her shoulders. During the last pause for more oil, I finally abandoned all pretense that this was just a massage and dropped my shorts to the floor, letting my stiff rod swing free.
I softly cupped her breast flesh, and then began to rub, fondle, squeeze in earnest. I dropped to my knees beside the bed to engage her now erect nipples with my mouth, first one then the other. I laved them with my tongue, sucked them in with my breath, and even nipped them with my teeth. Selena’s breathing changed, becoming shallow and ragged. I continued to molest her chest, I was in heaven, and when she began to moan almost constantly, I sent my hand south to plunder her join. I found her outer lips through her wet panties, caressing them until her hips started bucking me away. I slipped a couple fingers into the leg opening and they found her clitoris. I began to play with her hardened little love nub, and moments later her body was spasming uncontrollably. I covered her mouth with my other hand, lest her screams of passion wake the whole city.
When the convulsing subsided, I was resting my head on her chest, mouth still on her tit, with one hand over her mouth and the other inside her panties.
She raised her head and opened her eyes.
Softly, “What are you doing?” and then realization, “What the HELL am I doing? George isn’t here. I’ve gotta go.”
With that she pushed against me and stunned, I just fell back. She scrambled into her jeans, drew her t-shirt over her head, and fairly sprinted out the door. I got up, lay back on the bed, knowing my world had just ended, again, but believing it had been worth it, stroked myself mercilessly with my oiled hand. I was about to cum when it registered, what the strange pile of cloth was. Selena had left her bra behind.
Part 1 Personal Interaction
Written by chitown
The following is a work of fiction, containing material of a somewhat explicit nature, intended to entertain adults. If that’s going to trouble you, or not permitted to you for some reason, read no further.
“Hey, are you something special?”
Even after working with her for 2 years, Selena’s voice still sent shivers through me. I looked up at my angel’s face, in confusion, “What?”
Still standing at the door to my office, “I noticed, even if no one else did, that Todd gave you a free pass when we were all discussing plans for Thanksgiving.”
“Maybe he knows what my plans are.” The same they’d been the last 3 years, though with a twist this year.
“So, spill.”
I sighed, this wasn’t a conversation I was ready to have, and certainly not with Selena Gomez. At its absolute best outcome, it would get me a pity fuck, but it was so much more likely to get my ass fired and blacklisted I sometimes had nightmares. But lying to her about it wasn’t really an option, it was too important to me. “If you really want to know,” I watched her face, hoping to see it glazed over and wanting to move on, but she was genuinely interested, “grab a seat. This may take a few minutes to explain.”
I pulled a binder of newspaper clippings from my bottom drawer, and handed it to her across the desk. It told the story of an extended family: mother, father, his sister, four sons, 3 daughters-in-law, two nieces, six grandkids; gathered to celebrate Thanksgiving in 2006, brutally murdered that morning. A fifth son survived through the simple expedient of being on the early shift at his restaurant job. After watching her read for a minute, I turned away a bit and started talking.
“During conversation Wednesday night my brother had talked about the problems he had with the production of sit-coms nowadays. The characters always seem to be yelling at each other, never talking to each other. Hannah Montana was a specific example he used, repeatedly. The next day my world collapsed. I think it’s accurate to say I was lost, but one thing I did was start watching HM. I think he was right, but I continued to watch anyway. My world changed again in July the next summer. The Monday after the first Makayla episode aired, I got my shit together, and I was moved to LA by that Friday. It took me a year to get a job with Disney, but here I am, a junior writer on the WoWP team.
“Each of the last 3 years, I’ve spent Thanksgiving week visiting cemeteries in St Louis, Milwaukee, and Cleveland. This year the time will be shorter, because I’ll be in Dallas on Friday and Tulsa on Saturday.”
I turned to look for her reaction to find her sobbing, tears streaming down her face. I bolted up out of my chair and around the desk to hug her, “Aw shit, Sel, don’t cry.”
“I can’t help it. This is … fucking heartbreaking.”
“No, no … well yes, but in time it was liberating. It gave me the strength to come here, to follow my dream.”
She seemed to be gaining control of herself, “Why didn’t you tell anyone?”
I waited a moment, “It wasn’t important for them to know.”
“Then why tell me?”
I used my thumbs to wipe the tears from her eyes, and then her cheeks, “You asked.”
She gave me a funny look, stood up, placed the binder on my desk, said “Thank you,” and walked out the door.
I looked at my watch: 2 o’clock. Well, I certainly wasn’t going to get anything done the rest of the day, so I quickly catalogued what was my personal stuff, what was theirs, and what I should throw away. Then I just sat and waited for the knock signaling the next shift in my life. By 5 the office was pretty quiet, so I left. After all I had a flight to St Louis in the morning.
***
Next Friday, in Texas, I got to the Verizon Theatre in Grand Prairie around noon and just hung around outside, feeling a bit weird as the only 20something male in a growing crowd of teenage girls, and the occasional parent. Event Staff wrangled those of us with “Meet & Greets” into line about 5:30 and then we began to creep forward. Finally it’s my turn to walk around the partition and ”Meet” Selena, and when she first sees me, she looks totally confused. Quickly she rallies and totally surprises me, and I daresay herself, by bouncing forward throwing her arms around my neck and locking lips with me. Somebody clears their throat and suddenly she comes back to reality, dragging me along with her.
“Oh my, I’m just so glad you’re here. I asked around and nobody knew anything about you requesting tickets, so I thought I misunderstood.”
“I bought it through the fan club”
“Hey guys can we get you to pose for the photo, there’s others in line,” interrupted the photographer.
“Umm, sure,” but she gave my hand a squeeze as we moved to stand side by side, arms around each others’ waist.
And then security was saying, “This way please”
I looked back at her and she mouthed “Thanks for coming”
So sweet, like I was doing her a favor.
The show, for her hometown crowd, was fantastic, and I was so wired afterwards that I couldn’t sleep, or maybe it was the memory of that kiss.
After driving from Dallas to Tulsa in the morning, Saturday afternoon at the Brady Theatre played out much the same as Friday.
When it was my turn in line, Selena gave me that 1000 watt smile, a big hug, and whispered in my ear, “After the show, join us backstage.”
After we posed for the photo she pressed something into my hand. Walking away I looked at it to discover an All Access laminate. I turned back to look; she’d been watching me and nodded, still smiling.
The show was amazing, the first time I’d ever had a front row seat. I swear we made eye contact several times. Afterward I didn’t really know where backstage I was going, and the event security seemed to think if I was legit I should. Eventually I found where I needed to be.
“You made it.” Another hug, I could get used to this. “I was worried you were going to stand me up. We’re having a little get-together at the hotel. Be my date?”
Didn’t need to ask me twice, “Certainly”
In a banquet room with catered snack table and soft drinks (BYOB), a DJ spun tunes. The Scene and the crew laughed, talked, danced for a few hours. I did notice everyone seemed paired up, and as they started drifting out I had to wonder where this evening was headed. While they hadn’t made any specific public splash, people around her knew she was dating the Canadian YouTube kid.
Things were really winding down about 1 am, “Thank you, Selena, truly this has been the best night of my life. I think I need to find a ride back to the Brady to collect my rental and head to my motel.”
After a moment’s hesitation, “Wait here,” and she bounded off to talk to Brian. She came back brandishing a key card.
“The ride will be easier to manage in the morning. We have a couple extra rooms, because we took the whole floor. You should stay here.” Again she put a piece of plastic in my hand.
I gave her hug (couldn’t resist) “Thank you”
“Sweet dreams” as she headed back over to Brian.
Having taken a shower I was lying on the queen size bed trying to fall asleep to HBO when I thought I heard a knock. Muted the TV and yep there it was again.
Through the peephole I see her, face turned away but I recognize that brunette mane, topping her stripped t-shirt and skinny jeans. I crack the door, “Selena?”
She turned to face me, looking like she might have been crying, “I really need someone to talk to, but they’re all …. Occupied.”
“OK” I release the chain lock, and open the door, “come on in”
She marches in, paces across the room a couple times and sits on the edge of the bed. Part of me wonders what the hell is going on, hasn’t she noticed all I’m wearing is a pair of boxer/briefs? Am I so physically unimposing that it doesn’t matter? Or is this some deeper game? Of course a larger part of me doesn’t care, I’m living a fantasy come true.
Suddenly she looks right at me, “If you spend a holiday away from your family, to spend it with someone else’s family, doesn’t that mean things are becoming more serious?”
She looked totally vulnerable, searching my face for something, “Yes, for me, it would mean I was committed, but I think I need some more info if I’m going to help you.”
“He spent Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday with me in Grand Prairie. We even tweeted a Thanksgiving family photo on Thursday. Today he’s tweeting a liplock from a lunch date with Caitlin and another from his dinner with Jasmine. What the hell is that?”
I’m not sure how what he’d done was so different from what we’d done but there’s no way I want to help the little prick. On the other hand I’d sell my soul to help her so …
I sat down next to her, put my arm around her shoulders, and felt just how tense she was.
“I think before I answer that, you need to relax. Let me give you a back rub.”
I moved onto the bed to kneel behind her and grasped her shoulders. As I started to knead her muscles with my thumbs, I tried to square her shoulders.
“Has anyone ever told you, you should try pulling your shoulders back?”
I felt her chuckle, “All the time”
“Then I won’t repeat it …”
Her bra straps were inconveniently in the way as I worked from the top of her shoulders to her blades. I could feel her breathing slow and deepen.
“That feels so good”
“Relax” A moment later “Empty your mind”
“Mmm-kay”
When my thumbs reached the band, I skipped down to her waist, and began to work my way back up. Several minutes later, when my hands had travelled up to where they’d jumped down from, I let them drop to my knees.
Selena sighed, “That’s wonderful. You’re a natural.”
I had to smile at that. “Not really. I took a few massage therapy classes.”
She twisted around to look at me, and I could detect an almost feverish glint in her eyes. “So you could give a real massage?”
“In theory, yes”
“Can I have one, now?”
“Selena, this is hardly the place; no table, no oils-“
“We can use the bath oil; check the cabinet,” she said with a knowing smile, “as for the table we’ll improvise. Please?”
Like I was going to say no.
I got up to check the bathroom vanity. She was right; there were a couple different oils available. I picked a floral scented one, grabbed a couple towels, and returned to the room to find her lying on her stomach across the foot of the bed, wearing only a pair of pale pink cotton panties. My already half erect penis gave a twitch of excitement, starting to grow harder. As I approached the bed I hoped she’d keep her head turned away. I laid a bath towel over each leg and a hand towel across her back, leaving her arms exposed.
“What’s that for?”
“A couple things really. To prevent you getting chilled. To highlight where I’ll be working. To preserve modesty.”
She mumbled, “We’re both in our underwear, I think the modesty ship is leaving the harbor.”
So she had noticed, “All the same, it’s what I was taught.”
I rubbed my palms together for friction before twisting open the oil. Since I’d already worked on her back I started with her lovely arms. One, then the other, I shifted them out from her body to knead her toned supple limbs. Reaching across to the far side wasn’t ideal for the massage process, but did rub my crotch against the edge of the bed, providing some relief to me. With her reputation for being a junk food hound she must work out regularly, if not intensely, because she was certainly firm but still soft.
I let one hand linger on her upturned palm as I reached to fold the bath towels to expose her feet and lower legs. It was actually a backward step in the standard progression, but I’d messed that up by essentially starting with her back, which would normally be the end point. When I transferred down to her feet, a soft moan of pleasure escaped her. I fought the urge to take her succulent little toes into my mouth as I stroked and smoothed her arches. Moving up to her calves, I marveled at their tone. For someone who disdained high heels except when absolutely required for professional reasons, her legs were marvelous. I almost didn’t need to use oil, her skin was so silky smooth. I mused it must be result of the laser hair removal and proactive moisturizing.
When I first moved one towel to recover her calves and feet, and the other to just over her buttocks, giving access to her hamstrings, I thought I noticed a darkened patch of moisture in the crotch of her panties. “Surely she can’t be getting off on this,” I told myself. It’s just a massage. When I started working the back of her thighs she wiggled a smidge to spread her legs more, giving me access to the inside of her thighs, and a view of her dampened underwear. I worked her muscles from the knee up, trying to concentrate through the distraction. I noticed the aroma of her arousal over the floral scent about this time. Near the end I inadvertently grazed the slick cotton covering her sex. I feared the groan of pleasure could be heard on the street below. Somehow my rational side won a round, and instead of doing something stupid, I found myself resetting the towels on her legs and removing the one on her back.
I found myself dripping oil on her shoulder blades, and again rubbing my hands to build some friction warmth, went to work on her bare back. I found myself tracing her ribs to her sides wanting to do something “fresh”. My erection was becoming painful in its intensity as I kneaded her already pliant back, gradually making my way down to her waist. Finally, I was able to bring myself to restore the towel across her back, but I gave her a playful slap on her luscious little derriere and said,
‘’OK, all done.” I capped the half empty bottle and took a step toward the bath when I heard her languid voice over the rustling comforter,
“You meant, roll over, right?”
I turned around and stood transfixed. She lay on her back, her gorgeous gams parted comfortably, giving me a clear view of the sodden cloth covering what appeared to be a neatly trimmed bush above her bare labia. Beyond a slowly, softly rising and falling smooth and flat abdomen her firm young breasts fought gravity to stay high on her chest, small brown areola hosting pink nipples starting to perk up. It felt like an hour before I was able force myself to look at her face, full lips slightly parted, eyes closed, cheeks slightly flushed, surrounded by waves of brunette silk.
Truthfully, I knew where this was headed (I thought), knew it was a disaster for me, but I was powerless to stop. This is what she wanted, this is what she was going to get and damn the consequences. Let’s be honest, I’d wanted this for 3 and a half years, at least now it was legal.
So I stepped back to the bed, didn’t bother with arranging the towels, opened the vial of oil and went back to it. I made quick work of finishing her lower legs and moved up to her quads. I luxuriated in the suppleness of her legs’ muscles, and it was with a genuine regret I gave them up when further manipulation would be counterproductive. Still I couldn’t resist a slower, more intense brush with my hand between her legs as I slid over to work her upper body. Her gasp, or probably the heated contact with her covered love furnace, sent a bolt through my body.
I gave her arms a cursory second go, before laying hands on that delectable abdomen. Firm, but with just enough soft roundness to make it irresistible. When I found myself working it impatiently up toward her chest, I jumped her mounds to work her shoulders. During the last pause for more oil, I finally abandoned all pretense that this was just a massage and dropped my shorts to the floor, letting my stiff rod swing free.
I softly cupped her breast flesh, and then began to rub, fondle, squeeze in earnest. I dropped to my knees beside the bed to engage her now erect nipples with my mouth, first one then the other. I laved them with my tongue, sucked them in with my breath, and even nipped them with my teeth. Selena’s breathing changed, becoming shallow and ragged. I continued to molest her chest, I was in heaven, and when she began to moan almost constantly, I sent my hand south to plunder her join. I found her outer lips through her wet panties, caressing them until her hips started bucking me away. I slipped a couple fingers into the leg opening and they found her clitoris. I began to play with her hardened little love nub, and moments later her body was spasming uncontrollably. I covered her mouth with my other hand, lest her screams of passion wake the whole city.
When the convulsing subsided, I was resting my head on her chest, mouth still on her tit, with one hand over her mouth and the other inside her panties.
She raised her head and opened her eyes.
Softly, “What are you doing?” and then realization, “What the HELL am I doing? George isn’t here. I’ve gotta go.”
With that she pushed against me and stunned, I just fell back. She scrambled into her jeans, drew her t-shirt over her head, and fairly sprinted out the door. I got up, lay back on the bed, knowing my world had just ended, again, but believing it had been worth it, stroked myself mercilessly with my oiled hand. I was about to cum when it registered, what the strange pile of cloth was. Selena had left her bra behind.