Gentle Hands

What a day! Partly cloudy and in the low-80's, a perfect day for doing some repairs on my boat. Warm enough to wear cutoffs and a tee-shirt, cloudy enough to avoid getting the inevitable burn that precedes my mid-summer tan. I have the good fortune to own a house and dock on a beautiful lake, courtesy of a very generous lawsuit settlement. At age 48, I'm semi-retired. Now, instead of putting bad guys in jail, I'm a self-employed writer and photographer working out of my lakefront home.

So as I said, I was taking advantage of the late spring's unseasonably warm weather and doing some dock repairs while watching the college kids two docks away water skiing and having a good time. Okay, I might have been ogling the girls a little bit. Or a lot.

One girl in particular had been having a difficult time mastering the slalom ski. She had made several unsuccessful attempts, but now the loud cheers from the kids on the boat and the dock caused me to look up just in time to see she had finally managed to stay up.

Her towboat took her on a victory lap around our bay and then headed toward the dock so she could coast in to the congratulations of her friends. I intended to join the others in applauding her, but instead I watched helplessly as she approached the dock far too fast. She hit it with a sickeningly muted thud.

Even before she could cry out I dashed along the beach toward her dock. Her floatation vest kept her afloat and her face out of the water, so she was in no danger of drowning. Her friends were already reaching out to drag her onto the dock. I yelled for them to stop, to leave her in the water. The girl remained conscious but was crying in pain.

I donned another floatation vest from their dock and eased myself into the water beside her. Her panicked friends screamed at me to pull her out, but I explained that the water's pressure on her buoyant body would be less painful than dragging her over the edge of the dock. My presence alongside her in the water seemed to calm the girl enough so I could ask her if she knew where she was hurt.

She said she had a sharp pain in her hips or lower abdomen. She said it hurt to move her legs.

After instructing one of her friends to call 9-1-1 and summon paramedics, I told two others to bring the dock's homemade approach ramp to me. That small approach ramp was made out of two two-by-tens, each about eight feet long and nailed side-by-side with three crosspieces. I explained to the girl that I would slide the approach ramp behind her but vertically in the water. She would feel it support the length of her body as it floated horizontally somewhat like an air mattress. Then I would just float it and her toward the beach so we could use the ramp as a backboard until the paramedics arrived. My explanation seemed to reassure her.

The two students brought the approach ramp, and I positioned it behind the injured girl's body. I then pivoted the ramp and as planned, it was buoyant enough to let her lie more or less horizontally while we moved to shore. Once we reached the beach, two of the boys helped get the improvised backboard onto the beach. Then we carefully removed her floatation vest.

"What's your name?" I asked.

"Becky," she replied.

"Okay, Becky. I'm Lee. We've called the paramedics, but it's probably going to take them a little while to get here. Would you mind if I checked you over to get some idea of how badly you're hurt and to make sure we don't need to do anything else before they get here?"

"Go ahead," she sniffled.

I motioned to one of Becky's friends to come closer to witness what I did. The girl knelt down and took Becky's hand.

"Becky, what part of your body hit the dock?"

"I guess my butt," she replied with a painful smile. She tried to laugh a little but quickly grimaced in pain.

"Where did that hurt when you laughed?" I asked.

She pointed to her lower abdomen and pelvis.

"Okay, Becky. Does it hurt when you breathe? And are you having any trouble breathing?"

"No."

"Becky, I'm going to gently touch your body in a few places. I promise that I'm not going to push hard at all. If I touch someplace and if it hurts or if you think it might hurt, will you tell me?"

"Yes."

For the next few minutes, watched closely by her friend, I gently tested Becky's body for any additional injuries. I had been observing her carefully and saw no signs of internal bleeding or shock. That was good. I moved my hands over her legs and felt no indications of fracture. She felt my touch but not pain.

We covered her with two towels to keep her still-wet body from getting chilled, and one of the students used another towel to shade her eyes. I kept talking with her to watch for signs of shock and to comfort her. A few minutes later, I heard the approaching rescue ambulance's siren.

"Becky, the paramedics will be here soon. How do you feel?"

"It still hurts, but not as bad."

The paramedics arrived, performed the same superficial checks I had and also checked her vital signs. Then they transferred her to their backboard, immobilized her on it, put her on a gurney and left for the hospital. Shortly after the paramedics took her to the hospital, the remaining students put the boat away, picked up all their gear, and left.

I went back to my house, grateful for the police academy's emergency medical training.

The rest of the summer past uneventfully. I occasionally thought about the injured girl, though I couldn't remember her name, and hoped she was doing well.

The hot days of summer became the frosty mornings of early October. The boats had been put away for the season, and mine was the only occupied house in our bay. I had the beautiful fall colors all to myself. For a writer the solitude was wonderful, and for a photographer the fall colors and animal varieties were spectacular.

Having completed a mid-day run and some fireplace wood chopping, I shaved and showered and settled in for some writing time. The soothing rustle of fall leaves was punctuated by the slam of a car door. I got up from my computer and went to see who had arrived. When I opened the door, there stood the dock-crasher. I recognized her, but she looked quite different. It seemed me that when she was injured skiing, she had been rather plump.

"Well, hello, ummm..."

"Becky!" she said brightly and helpfully.

"Of course. Becky. Please forgive me for not remembering. Would you like to come in?" Talk about your dumb questions. Did I really think she had driven to this secluded bay to stand outside and talk?

"Can I take your coat?" I asked as she entered.

"Thanks," she said and peeled it off. The girl who stood in front of me now was certainly not the plump water skier of summer. She wore a tight white sweater that showed off her narrow waist and enticing breasts. Her slacks were nicely tailored to stylishly show off her rear. Becky's jet black hair was just the proper length to accent her smiling face.

While I hung her coat on the rack, I commented that she seemed to have made a full recovery from her injuries.

"I have," she replied. "The doctors told me I have you to thank for that. The accident fractured my pelvis, but there were no other injuries. The doctors said that if you had let my friends pull me out of the water and onto the dock the way they wanted to, my injuries would have been much worse. So I wanted to come and thank you for taking charge the way you did."

"That's very nice of you to say that, Becky. Would you like to sit down and talk a while? So how are you feeling?"

She talked as we walked into the living room. "Actually, the fracture has healed completely. There are no restrictions whatsoever on any activities. Right after getting out of the hospital, I was doing physical therapy three times a week since the accident. Now I'm only going once a week." She sat on the couch. I tended the wood burning in the fireplace and remained standing in front of it while we talked.

"That seems like a lot of therapy. Were there complications?" I asked.

"No, no complications. The doctors and physical therapist encouraged me to take the aggressive therapy approach. They said the breaks would heal more completely and quicker if I did it. And there was a side benefit, too. I dropped eighteen pounds that I didn't need. The hospital hooked me up with a nutritionist who's put me on a diet and exercise plan that will help keep it off. Between the diet and exercise, I'm even better than when you first saw me."

I allowed my eyes to linger on her body. She noticed.

"So, do you like the new me?" she asked.

"Yes, indeed. If I were 25 years younger, I'd be begging you for a date," I answered honestly.

She looked at me for the longest time before speaking again.

"Why do you think you need to be 25 years younger, Lee?" She asked using my name for the first time.

"Well, Becky, after all, you're what 19 or 20?"

"Good guess. I just turned 20 last week."

"So you were born ..."

"October 25, 1986," she completed my sentence quickly. My question was instinctive; a cop's trick to see if someone was lying about her age.

"I can't imagine why a beautiful 20-year-old woman would want to date a man old enough to be her father," I responded.

"As I recall, you looked pretty good in the cutoffs you were wearing when you helped me this summer."

"Oh, well, thanks, but still ..."

She interrupted.

"Lee, do you remember how you checked me over to see how badly I was injured?"

I nodded.

"Well, even though I was hurting from the accident, none of your touches hurt me. You have gentle hands that I suspect reveal a kind and gentle heart."

"You're very poetic," I answered, genuinely moved by her words.

"Lee, do you think I'm attractive?" she asked bluntly.

For the first time since her injury months before, I saw her as a woman. And I knew that's how she wanted me to see her.

"Yes, Becky, you're very attractive."

She paused, thoughtfully, before continuing.

"You know, Lee, I don't completely remember everything that happened after I was hurt. My friend Kim told me that she watched you check me over. She said you had plenty of chances to cop a cheap feel, but you didn't. She said you were all business and intent on helping me.

There was a long pause before she continued. "She told me something else. She said that I would be an idiot if I didn't find out for myself if your hands were as gentle when you were making love to a woman."

Her directness left me momentarily speechless. I must admit to being physically attracted to her, and it was clear she was not teasing me. Perhaps she could detect the growing desire in my eyes.

She arose from the couch and walked to me, her eyes never leaving mine. The wood fire warmed the room.

Becky wrapped her arms around my neck and kissed me briefly, but long enough that my cock started to harden. Clearly she felt it pressing against her. I looked deeply into her eyes. They revealed both sincerity and sexuality. But I was tentative, somewhat uneasy.

"Becky, how do you know I'm not married?"

"I checked. Actually, a friend of mine told me you are married but that your wife took off to be with some young stud in California. Lee, I think you are more concerned about our age difference than your wife. Why does age even matter? Are you worried that somehow you might be taking advantage of me? I am old enough to make my own life's decisions. You didn't lure me here to try and seduce me. You didn't even know I was coming until I showed up at your door. You're not some sexual predator trying to entice some naïve teenager on the internet. You're a very attractive mature man with very gentle hands. I hope you find me sexy enough to want to touch me, excite me, and to ..."

I could resist this beautiful young woman no longer. While she spoke, I wrapped my arms around her narrow waist and pulled her to me, so wanting our bodies to finish her sentence.

We kissed again. It began as a gentle kiss that evolved into a mutual expression of passion. My reluctance dissolved into arousal as her lips and tongue worked their youthful magic on me. While my own tongue sought hers as a prelude to even more intimacy, my hands began to roam her body, dropping first to her ass.

She murmured approval at my surrender to her overtures.

We continued kissing, probably for several minutes. Though the intensity of our physical need for each other was increasing, neither of us wanted to rush. I began to let my kisses find their way over her lips, chin, and neck. She rewarded my exploration with vocal encouragement that heightened my desire for her. I found a warm spot at the base of her neck at the shoulder. The instant she felt my lips there, she tightened her arms around my neck to pull me even closer. Then she moved astraddle my upper left thigh. I felt her begin to rub her still-clothed vulva against it. My continued oral attention to this hotspot only intensified her frottage. The sounds from deep inside her affirmed her pleasure and heightened my own.

Unable and now unwilling to contain my own lust, I allowed my hands to seek the warm eroticism of her skin. I began to pull the tight sweater from beneath the waistband of her slacks. When my warm hands found the skin of her lower back and began to travel upward, she gasped audibly. She entangled her hands in my hair and forcibly pulled my mouth from her neck. Her mouth sought mine and upon finding it, she thrust her tongue deeply into me. I allowed my hands to continue their upward excursion to her shoulders, unimpeded by any brassiere.

Her bare skin was a tactile aphrodisiac. Its allure sent the electricity of arousal to all parts of my body.

We continued kissing with nearly violent sexuality.

Any hesitation I might have had, any concerns about making love to this much younger woman, vaporized.

She released her grip on my hair and broke our kiss so that I could slowly move my hands upward, along her now-upwardly outstretched arms, and pull the sweater off over her head. The slowness of my movement and the warmth and friction of my hands against her skin seemed to stimulate her even more. My hands moved slowly along her rib cage, lingering briefly to caress her sensitive underarms, then sliding up her arms as the sweater peeled away.

I stepped back slightly to get a better view of her breasts. Her eyes penetrated mine. She was unashamed of her nakedness. Indeed, she seemed to become further aroused at my focus on her breasts.

She reached out and unbuttoned my shirt and pulled it out of my trousers. As she pushed it back and pulled it off, her naked breasts pushed against my bare chest. Her warmth was titillating. Her own body's movement to completely remove my shirt and let it drop to the floor caused her nipples to harden and lengthen when their tips moved across my chest.

Again, for several minutes, we held each other close and kissed passionately. I allowed my kisses to again wander over her face, biting her lips and ear lobes gently, letting my tongue tip caress her most sensitive spots, letting my erotically suggestive whispers into her ears inflame her.

Now, with our upper torsos completely exposed to each other, I began to move my lips downward, eager to reach her breasts, to take their nipples between my lips and tenderly suck and pull them into my mouth. Her smallish breasts were incredibly sensitive. She rewarded my advances with sounds of lust, first softly, then louder. I felt the urgency in her fingers when they clawed my back. Oh, how I wanted this young woman!

Again, she moved to straddle my upper thigh and rub her vulva against it, more feverishly than before. Each grind of her pussy against me pressed her against my now very hard cock.

Our sensual struggle became more animated, more intense. While my lips continued to kiss her breasts and tug on their nipples, my tongue encircled and tweaked them. My hands fell to the waistband of her slacks and deftly released their clasp. Without looking, Becky took my cue. She unfastened my belt, unhooked my trousers, and unzipped them.

Together, eagerly, we removed the rest of each other's clothing so when we again stood upright, we were naked to each other.

We once again came together, standing, kissing, running our hands over our lover's body. Her swollen, moist, shaven pussy again rode up and down on my upper thigh. So close were we that my fully-erect cock was captured between our bodies.

With my left arm around her lower back, I stepped to one side, placed my right arm against the back of her shapely thighs, and swept her up into my arms. Her right arm around my neck, and she again kissed me deeply while I carried her to my bedroom.

Once there, I laid her gently on the bed and stepped back to admire her beauty. It was truly amazing that this lovely young woman could find me sexually desirable. While I watched, she allowed her hands to travel over her own body, stimulating herself and me at the same time. Clearly she was unashamed of pleasuring herself.

"Lee," she whispered, "Stroke yourself for me. Please." It was an enticing request, not a plea.

Without any hesitation I moved my right hand to my fully erect cock and began a slow motion masturbation. Becky's eyes focused on my cock's swollen redness, its girth, and its length. Her own fingers increased their lovemaking with her own pussy. Her pearly clit emerged from beneath its protective hood, noticeably. She gasped when her wet finger touched it.

Both of us clearly enjoyed the intensifying urges of our masturbation, but neither of us wanted to orgasm.

Becky stopped her hands and lay quietly. She extended her arms outward to me, summoning me to her. I released my cock, now bobbing pendulously as I moved to her. I lay beside her, and once again we began kissing, first delicately but soon passionately, hungrily. Again, laying side by side, our hands roamed each other freely.

I began kissing downward from her mouth, to the base of her neck, down to her breasts. My lips and tongue sought her nipples to pinch and pull them. My tongue traced circles around her areolas. She gasped audibly, frequently, at the sensory attack of my tongue. I began to let my kisses journey downward, slowly and patiently.

When my chin just barely grazed her erect clit, she cried out. Then she spread her legs even further apart, entangled her fingers in my hair, and forced my mouth down hard on her pussy. My tongue shot out quickly and hard, thrusting in between her outer lips. Again she screamed and pulled my head in harder. I forced my head backward to relieve my assault and to allow my tongue to trace around her lips and find her clit.

Using just the tip of my tongue, I moved it from side to side, each time barely grazing her sensory pearl. Her body spasmed with each flick. She released her grip on my head and stretched her arms out to her sides, grasping and pulling at the sheets.

I moved my arms around her thighs to steady my head near her womanliness. I allowed my tongue to travel the length of her delicate slit, exploring as it went. I blew my warm breath across her clit, then tenderly touched it again, repeatedly, with my tongue's tip. Again Becky rewarded me with shrieks of pleasure. Her hips bucked against my face, and her shapely young legs tightened around my head as her body rose, fell, and shook in orgasm.

I continued my oral lovemaking until she begged me to stop. She pushed my head away from between her legs and was gasping to regain her breath.

After a few moments to allow her to recover, I kissed my way back up her luscious young body until our lips met and she tasted her own love juices.

We lay together for several minutes, kissing, caressing, saying with our eyes and touches what words could never express.