NOTE TO READERS: This story follows the exploits of characters from two prior stories, 'Odd (wo)man out', parts 1 and 2. I recommend reading those first, although this can be read as a standalone story.
The six college students, three girls, three guys, had stayed on campus during Spring break. The mostly empty campus gave them the freedom to do what they wanted. But it also brought boredom, with no classes and most friends gone. The past two days had involved some amusements to ease those boring hours. Amusements as in skinny dipping during a picnic one day and then strip poker the next. (You see a theme, I suspect.) Looking at naked bodies is like eating chocolate. If there isn't any available, you can do without. However, when the prize is within reach, tempting you, you crave that next bite.
So it was that the group rendezvoused for the third day. After some time chatting and drinking wine, one of the guys, Brad, - trying to sound casual - brought up what he had been contemplating all along.
"Say, I've been hearing about this new technique of group massage that's supposed to free the mind of stress. Great for mediation. Really cool."
"Yeah? So, what's it about?" asked Amy.
"It distracts the mind from everyday stresses," Brad said, "by focusing on the body. Four people pamper one person, as a team. One on each side, the third at the feet and the fourth at the head. They work in concert, so that the body feels sensations of different strengths, and from different angles."
"A group grope?" Amy asked, with a little well-founded skepticism (or excitement?) after the events of the previous two days.
"No, no, it's much more focused," argued Brad.
"Let me guess," Amy said. "The person has to get naked first, right?"
"Not at all. In the demonstration I saw online, the person kept their underwear on. Mostly. All very proper."
No one had a better idea, so it was decided. Amy, the shy girl who had come a long way in a few days, was chosen to be the first subject. She was a trim, curly-haired brunette, with an impish face and pretty smile. With more than a little self-consciousness (cute on her), she pulled off her t-shirt, revealing a frilly push-up bra that caused her breasts to swell out of the top. Her nipples were visible through the fabric. Her slacks were the next to go. As she bent over to free them from her feet, her firm backside stretched against pink silk panties, to the voyeuristic pleasure of the guys. By popular opinion, her legs and ass were her best assets, tight from her time in high school on the track team. The panties clung snugly to the curves of her mound, the fabric protruding to accommodate the tangle of pubic hair underneath. She climbed onto a massage-style table and lay on her stomach. The others surrounded her.
Brad gave the instructions. "OK, as there are five of us, each leg gets its own massager. You at the feet, start at the calves and press the flesh firmly up to the back of the knees, and return. The ones on the sides massage the back. Billy, you're at the head, so use your fingers to massage the scalp, neck and shoulders."
Five sets of hands began to knead the flesh. Amy settled in and gave little moans of pleasure as 50 fingers worked some magic. After a while, Brady redirected the two at the feet.
"Ok, now, firmly massage the feet, pressing along the soles." Amy had sensitive feet, and she murmured approval as that sensitive (and often overlooked) body part was caressed.
Then Brad, who was on one side, unclasped the bra and let the straps fall away. Amy turned her head to look up.
"I just loosened it so you'll get the full benefit," he said smoothly.
"Okay, now the two of us on the sides will massage the back and middle," he directed.
The others continued their work, and Brad and one of the women began to firmly press down on the panties covering the buttocks, circling around to the hips. Then their fingers slid under the panties, and massaged the muscles of the backside directly.
Fingers began to tease the insides of the butt cheeks, probing an area normally forbidden but surprisingly sensitive. One finger boldly pressed deep into that hole, prompting Amy to gasp.
"Careful, cowboy," she said to Brad, accurately guessing he was the one getting a little too personal.
