I had wanted her so badly the whole week, my sexual desire roaring past my senses and threatening to overtake my actions. I did not let it -- I had learned control over the past few years, and knew that my friendship with her was so much more precious in my heart that I did not want to ruin it with my basic urges. . .
I had traveled the country, literally, to see her. We had been friends for almost a year over the internet, writing each other with regularity and making long phone calls to each other deep into the night. Our worlds were dynamically different, yet we had a strong bond, an understanding that comes to few friends. She made me laugh; I made her happy. We bitched to each other about our lack of love lives (she had been engaged and then dumped - single for a year now; I had been single for over eight months), we shared great stories and poetry, we dominated the net with our sarcasm and wit.
Over the summer I had expressed my desire to come visit her and she enthusiastically agreed, but a new demanding job left me with little vacation time in which to follow through with the idea. A few months passed, and I returned to college while she graduated from her Texas university (I was in Pennsylvania). I kept searching for options to come down to visit her, and during my fall break, I got such an opportunity. I managed to get a free plane ticket from my family, and I left for four days down to the sunny state of Texas.
Thoughts, fantasies filled my mind during the trip down. She was as close to a romantic interest as I had, but deep down we both knew that it would never work. Nevertheless, I still had visions of a torrid love affair (hopefully not ruining our friendship) to ease both of our loneliness and sexual cravings. Of course, a few hours on the plane, and I resigned myself to reality. I was sincerely looking forward to spending a few days with a great friend, and I needed to shove my Don Juan personality into the back closet.
All this changed the second I got off the plane and saw her. It wasn't that she was the most beautiful or sexy creature I had ever seen, it wasn't pheromones or perfume, it wasn't anything really obvious. But at that moment, I became instantly attracted to her, and after our first hug, I craved every touch from her. She had lovely long brown hair, silky to the touch, the flowed down to her waist. Her eyes were a milky blue, and lit up when she gave me that terrific smile with a cute dimple on her cheek. She wasn't anything extraordinary in the looks department -- average breasts, nice legs, a firm butt -- but she managed to carry it off with a real flair. I wanted her.
We got along fabulously over the next few days. We were both pleased that each other was exactly like the impressions given by e-mail and phone, and no huge surprises were there to greet us. I began to flirt with her in a bold yet non-threatening way. I would say out loud that she was sexy, or I wanted her, or would even dart in for a quick kiss on an innocent part of her body from time to time (her arms and legs worked just fine for me). I remained alert for any response -- if she would appear uncomfortable, I would call it quits. But we reached an unspoken agreement: she would let me hit on her as much as I liked, and although she thought it flattering, she wouldn't respond.
I got bolder as the days went on, giving her non-necessary hugs and frequent neck massages (my one main seduction skill). One night, after we watched a movie, I went over to the lounge chair where she was sitting and began kissing her thigh. My main weakness: the leg, and I just absolutely loved the sensation of kissing and feeling it lightly with my lips and fingers. The second time I did this I used my tongue to trace paths, and after each time she thanked me with an amused and pleased look on her face.
Every night as I returned to my motel room, I masturbated furiously thinking of her, wanting her, needing her. One night I went all out and used shampoo as a lubricant (instead of my normal "easy to clean up" toilet paper) and made a huge mess on the bed as I came -- but it was worth it.
The last day in my wonderful trip rolled around, and I was dreading returning back to home frustrated and dreaming of what might have happened. As we returned from a ride in her car, I wondered outloud how far she would let me hit on her. Her response? "I don't know."
I had to test that. I decided to be bolder than ever, and when we got back to her home I made my first move. She went to her computer to write some e-mail and I followed her. After a few minutes of idle chitchat, I got up and stood behind her chair, and proceeded to give her a neck rub. I let my stroking hands caress and massage her neck and shoulder, up and down her arms, rubbing the tension out of her muscles. She had a loose t-shirt that hung down a bit in the front, and as I started to massage her collarbone and sternum, I used this to my advantage. My right hand slid under her shirt to rub her bare skin, lightly drawing circles with my fingertips and thumb. I worked my way downward, slowly, giving her time to call me off, but it didn't happen. My fingers felt, then explored, the smooth rise of her breast as they slid halfway down inside of her shirt. As always, I was totally amazed with how soft and silky a female's breast was. I bit my lip at this casual exploring of her tit, and then dowe in. My hand slid roughly underneath her bra to cup her whole breast. She closed her eyes and moaned as I explored her tender mound, enjoying the primal feel of just being able to grab something that wonderful, marveling in the feel of her hard nipple in the middle of my palm. I moved my fingers around and squeezed her bud lightly, twisting it to make it harder. After a minute of this -- me massaging her breast while she sat there mewing with her eyes closed -- her hand came up to stop me. I withdrew and gave her a light kiss on the forehead, along with a suggestive smile that this wouldn't be the last of my advances.
That night, my last in her city, I invited her up to my motel room for a long, involved body massage (I told you massage is my main seduction technique!). She agreed, grabbed some lotion from home, and followed me up.
I instructed her to make herself comfortable on one of the hard twin beds. She didn't want to take her shirt off, but ascented to removing her bra to make the massage easier. I went into the bathroom and changed into nylon pants and a loose sweatshirt (to cover the awkward bulge that threatened to penetrate my pants).
I came out and sat beside her. She was lying with her head on a pillow, face down, arms spread out. I love the submissive pose of a woman receiving a massage and always took that trust to the fullest.
I started with her shoulders, hands on top of her shirt. I slowly rubbed from her neck to her waist, getting her used to my touch and I used to her contours. I dabbed a bit of lotion on my hands and warmed it up, then slid them up under the back of her shirt. I kneaded her shoulder and side muscles, occassionally asking her how it felt and what she wanted me to do. The feel of her cool skin under my warm hands was marvelous, and I continued the slow massage for some time. Every once in a while I would let my fingers slip down her side to caress the swell of her breast, lightly teasing it with my touch.
After a while of this I moved down to her legs, and began a more intensive rubdown to loosen up the muscles. Her legs were creamy, both in color and texture, and I couldn't resist a slow kiss to the back of her thigh or calf every few minutes. Once I had covered that territory well, my hands slid up on top of her jean shorts to massage her butt. She had a nice ass, almost as perfectly rounded as her breasts, and I relished squeezing them. Then I took her silence for ascent, and ran one hand up the back of her shorts. I spread the lotion all over her ass cheeks, my fingers both exploring and massaging. She didn't feel as if she had underwear on, but it was hard to tell. I let my hands wander over to my favorite part of that area, where the cheeks meet the legs, and slid my hand down between her legs and ass. I could feel the intense heat between her legs as I moved my hand down and up, and my fingers even felt the beginnings of her pubic hair.
Sadly, to avoid overexposure, I had to withdraw, and then started working on her feet. From previous experience, I knew that she absolutely loved my foot rubs, so I determined to make this last one as great as I could make it.
I asked her to flip over so I could rub her feet easier, and she complied. I tried to make her comfortable by making small talk while working my way up the front of her legs. . . God! I wanted to kiss them so bad, but I let my hands enjoy the experience.
Her eyes were closed at this point, concentrating on my menstrations. I got to the top of her thigh, where her cut-off shorts began, and kept going. I was pleasently surprised to feel a large amount of heat radiating from between her legs, but I kept my hands strictly on top of her legs. My fingers inched up, brushing against the first hint of pubic hair, and then diving in further. I wondered again if she was wearing panties or not -- I was pretty high up and hadn't met any resistance yet. I teased her by lightly pulling on her hair, something I read in some book that was supposed to feel pretty good. My eyes were half-closed at this point, vividly imagining what my hands were doing. I moved my hands toward the center of that intense heat, feeling the fringe of panties (solving that question). Her legs spread slightly, and when I looked up, her lips were parted in a silent moan. However, her hands came down to stop me, not quite ready.
I withdrew my hands and moved them to her flat stomach. Instead of massaging, I lightly rubbed my lubricated hands in soft, circular motions. After a few minutes I had worked my way back up to those marvelous breasts of hers, and my left hand had already encompassed one. The feeling of warm silk, yielding to my touch, send shivers down my skin to my cock, where it jumped a bit. I curled up beside her, my head in the crook of her shoulder, and tenderly caressed her breasts for the next fifteen minutes or so. We just lay there, my hand slowly moving in circles over her mound and rough nipple. I smelled the freshness of her hair, listened to her breathe, and my heart jumped as her breath went a bit faster when I touched those sensative spots.
