The day has been sweltering. The humidity level adding an oppressive layer to the temperature. A sauna inside an oven set to broil would be more comfortable than being outside today. Murphy's Law dictated that today would be the day the air conditioner would break. Of course it would be an easy fix requiring a part that is out of stock and has to be shipped in. The only relief is the predicted drop in temperature that hit after the sun went down.
I stroll down the hall to the bedroom. It has been such a long and exhaustingly hot day, all I want is to lay down and pretend I'm in a tundra for a few hours. I am assaulted by a blast of hot, humid air as I walk past the bathroom where you had recently finished a shower. It seems like you insist on having the water as hot as possible for your showers, regardless of the temperature outside. Most days, it isn't a problem. Today, the last thing I need is another blast of heat and humidity.
However, the view I receive as I pass through the fog from your shower more than makes up for my discomfort. You are laying out on the bed. You are on your back with a very slight tilt to your head. Your skin practically glowing in the soft moonlight passing through the open window. There is an extra shine and sparkle to your skin from bits of moisture clinging to you. The microscopic droplets could be sweat or the remnants of the water from your shower. Either way, the effect adds to your angelic beauty as you lay on top of the covers.
The sound of the fan blowing the cooling air from the window covers the soft sound of your breathing. To combat the heat, you are wearing only a thin pair of panties. Your hair is splayed out over your pillow like a flowing halo behind your head. Your arms are out, raising your hands to each side of your pillow. You appear to be gesturing to an enthralled audience you can clearly see in your sleep. I smile at the thought of a stadium of adoring fans experiencing various types and degrees of excitement at the sight of your beauty.
My own excitement is growing as I look down your body. My eyes follow a line from your hands and down your arms. My gaze lingers on your chest, your breasts rising and falling slowly with each restful breath. Intending to return later, I look down your stomach to the curve of your hips. I follow the lines of your panties before moving further. I take my final steps into the room as my wandering gaze slides down your legs to your crossed ankles. I have always treasured your body, and the view before me is a reminder of how lucky I am to have found you.
I stretch myself out on the blanket next to you. My silk boxers silently slipping across the thick material. I match my breathing pattern to yours. I put all my focus into the end of my finger. Everything I can feel and know is in that point of contact between us. Starting at your fingers, I slide a fingertip down the same path my eyes had recently traveled. I feel the moisture on your smooth skin. My finger slides smoothly down your arm. When my touch reaches your chest, where my eyes lingered, I trace long, slow spirals up each breast in turn. I can't tell if it is the cooling air or my motions causing your nipples to stand out more. Either way, I take advantage of it and run my finger across each of them before giving it a gentle pinch. A breathy moan escapes your mouth each time. Your eyes shift and move but remain closed as my touch moves down to your stomach.
I reach the waistline of your panties. They are white and thin enough to strongly hint at the wonders beneath, but are just short of revealing all of the beautiful secrets they hide. My finger traces along the top of the waistband as it runs across your hips and meets the blanket on the bed. There I move my finger to the bottom of the narrow waistband and slide it back around your hips to your thigh. Taking care not to disturb you, I sit up so my caressing finger can continue to the triangular piece of your panties. My finger slides along the front of your panties to the point where your thighs meet. As my finger slides further down your legs, I lay down upside down in relation to you. My touch slides down to your feet and ends up next to my head.
I lift my finger when it reaches your crossed ankles. With an evil grin on my face, I slowly slide the very tip of my fingernail up the arch along the bottom of your foot. A smile creeps onto your face and your foot twitches the tiniest amount. I know you have to be in the mood to be tickled. I decided to take a chance and hope you were in the mood while asleep. A gamble that turned out to be in my favor.
Deciding not to push my luck, I change from a tickling gesture to a grip that would allow me to give you a gentle foot massage. Knowing how much you appreciate foot massages, I lightly apply pressure to the points that experience has taught me relax you the most. I also touch and caress specific areas that I don't normally work into a massage. A few charts online have shown these areas to be neurologically linked to the pleasure centers of the brain. They specifically mention that paying attention to these areas on the bottom of the foot causes increased sexual arousal. I don't put a lot of faith in charts like those, but am more than willing to give it a try anyway.
Whether my massage is activating the erotic centers of your brain or something about my touch earlier inspired some kind of sexual dream, you are definitely reacting positively. There is a soft hiss of skin on the blanket as you uncross your ankles and your legs separate slightly. Your head rolls to one side while one of your hands comes down from the pillow above your head and cups your breast. Your fingers caress across the top of your nipple and pinch it harder and longer than I had earlier. A deep moan of pleasure escapes your lips. A glance at what you have just revealed shows me a little extra moisture on your panties. I can't tell if it's from your shower, a small amount of sweat, or because of your growing arousal. Regardless of the reason, the sight of it excites me more.
My silk boxers strain to contain my arousal. The slight movements I make to massage your feet cause the smooth material to caress me. The sensation heightens the ache for pleasure more than relieves it. You begin to massage your breast more intently. You alternate between squeezing it tightly and squeezing your nipple while pulling on it. You arch your back as though you are trying to get your nipple to reach the stars before releasing it and sighing with a passionate sense of relief. Your other hand begins a slide down your stomach and begins to run up and down your panties. The damp spot on the white material slowly grows as your fingers reach deeper between your thighs.