The Soothing of Penelope

Relief without clothes

"Perhaps if you went without clothes for a few days. Could you do that? Leave them off for a couple of days. It's the weekend coming up." Steve was talking to Penelope about her problem. It was the end of another day and there were few other people still in the office.

"No. I share a flat and my flatmates are not all girls."

"Your parent's place?"

"Not really. My brothers and Uncle Bob'll be staying."

"Look, you could come and stay with me."

"NO! I mean, I couldn't possibly impose, you hardly want me wandering around stuck indoors for a whole weekend getting in the way." It was sort of kind and generous of Steve but she could not help feeling there was an ulterior motive. A naked girl wandering around his house, unable to dress. It was a bit of a young man's - a young wanker's - fantasy. Yet, yet..,

"Do you really think it would help?"

"I'm not a doctor - and you really should have gone to see a doctor."

Penelope knew Steve was right. She had been stupid.

"But would you mind?"

"Of course not, anything to help a colleague and friend."

Penelope had not at all thought herself a friend of Steve Knowles, or vice versa, but she was not going to say so. The thought that a weekend without clothing might help was uppermost in her mind. Of course she could see he might well have that ulterior motive, an obvious one, having a naked young woman around the whole weekend to ogle. It all seemed so wrong. She did not like Steve Knowles, yet she was finding herself more and more doing the strangest things with him. If only she had gone to see the doctor. She could not understand at all why she kept putting that off. Penelope really did not want to go and stay at Steve's, still less be naked the whole time with him. But she could not help thinking it might help.

"I'll hardly need to pack a suitcase."

"No, just a toothbrush in your handbag. That's about all you'll need.

And that was all she did need. It was not actually all she packed, so when she turned up at Steve's flat after work on the Friday with a suitcase he had looked at it askance.

"You really don't need that."

His flat did not look awfully big to be cooped up in for a whole weekend. She had not thought of it before but it suddenly came to her, a rather important question, and she came straight out with it suddenly so suspicious, "How many bedrooms has your flat got?"

"Just the one but we're not staying here. My parents are away abroad so I thought we'd go to theirs. It's a bit of a drive but their house has got plenty of bedrooms. Now leave that suitcase here Penelope and take those clothes off. You might as well start your therapy now."

"B...but I can't go in a car naked. I mean..."

"Of course you can. I've this silk wrap you can put around yourself. Silk is so light and just non allergic."

Penelope had misgivings. The light silk seemed to give the idea of a harem with girls in wispy pieces of silk giving glimpses of naked flesh for the delectation of the sultan and perhaps his guests. But the wrap was certainly light on her skin. Steve had not looked away as she undressed.

Clad in just the silk and without shoes, clutching her handbag containing her toothbrush, Penelope stepped out of Steve's flat and down the stairs. They met no one and within seconds she was at the car with Steve holding the car door open for her and she was inside before anyone even passed in the street.

It was indeed, a bit of a long journey, not helped by Friday night traffic jams. All the way she was conscious she was just wearing the lightest of silks and had absolutely nothing beneath. Steve's parents house was in a leafy suburban road and, when the car finally stopped, there was no need to walk along the street to get to and from the car. Their car drew into a short, gravelled driveway. There was no other car there and the house was dark.

"Shall I leave the silk here?" It really was not like her, but she found herself leaving the decisions to Steve, almost as if she was handing control to him. Perhaps unsurprising really, the whole idea had, after all, been his not hers. It was his parents' house and she found herself rather letting him tell her what to do.

"I would. You won't be needing it until Sunday night."

Peculiar, more than even the walk to the car in the wrap, was getting out of the car and walking up the front steps to the strange front door with nothing at all on, not even shoes. She could certainly feel the gravel beneath her feet.

Penelope had had the awful idea that Steve might take his clothes off too, on the pretence, as she thought it would be, of a fellow feeling, pretending to be showing solidarity with her. She did not think it would be solidarity, nothing of the sort, rather the getting of a sexual pleasure, a kick, out of being naked with her. She anticipated seeing his erection again more than once - that would be the 'solidarity.' It might be best to deal with that swiftly - a quick handjob to dampen his libido and remove his capability only, only, what if the lotion ran out? That idea worried her, worried her more than Steve being naked or even touching her - with his thing. She could not help feeling it would be best to save his ejaculate for an emergency, leave it stored, warm and ready in his balls, in case she needed it and just put up with seeing and perhaps feeling Steve's erection.

But Steve did not take his clothes off: he made her supper instead. She sat in his parent's kitchen, on a wooden chair which he insisted on wiping down thoroughly and drying first to remove any irritants, with a glass of cool white wine in her hand. Afterwards they watched television but, again, he did not even sit next to her on the settee though he did spread a large white bath towel for her to sit on, a towel he told her he had both washed in just soap flakes and then given an extra rinse with just water before drying it in the open air. He did not suggest they showered together or even shared the bathroom.

He stood in the doorway of her bedroom watching her getting into bed between white sheets (again just washed in soap flakes, extra rinsed and dried in the open air) but he had not been naked or even in his pyjamas with penis poking out of the fly. Steve had not suggested sleeping in the same bed 'to make sure she was all right.' He had merely wished her a good night, said his room was directly opposite hers if she should need anything - and had said that without the slightest suggestion of a leer - and closed the door on her and left her without doing anything wrong at all: quite the opposite really. There had not been a reappearance or even the slightest hint of her rash and itching all evening. Perhaps the nudity idea was not stupid.

Penelope awoke about midnight. She had gone to sleep so easily and so comfortably but now the itching she thought gone had returned and was building. She lay in the pitch darkness, scratching and wishing it would just calm down and go away. It did not, instead it slowly built. Penelope had to throw the bed covers and sheet off, get them away from her skin but that did not improve matters much.

Eventually she had to get up and padded across the floor feeling for the doorknob. Across the landing she found Steve's door easily and opened it.

"Steve, sorry to disturb, have you that lotion?"

Really she should have asked for it before bed but things had gone so well, there had not been the slightest tinge all evening. He had not offered and she had not liked to ask.

"Err, what, oh, it's... it's in the car, I'll go and get it."

She felt his body brush past hers. Steve was not wearing pyjamas. She was surprisingly relieved - relieved that scratchy, itchy cotton had not just touched her so sensitive skin. Penelope moved and stood in the pitch black of the landing waiting, waiting what seemed an interminable time for Steve's return. The reality was that he was very quick. Naturally he knew his parents' house like the back of his hand and could negotiate it as easily in the dark as the day and had no need to blind himself with the sudden harsh glare of electric light.

Such a relief hearing him coming up the stairs. Of course knowing your way around a house in the dark is one thing: allowing for unexpected obstacles another. Steve had not known she was standing there. He walked right into her - full naked body contact! Not good for Penelope, on several counts!

"Ooof!"

"Whoah, sorry Penny."

"Steve, please."

"Where?"

"Oh, Steve, most everywhere but particularly, why, why, why this awful sensation, right on my breasts and... you know."

He could simply have handed her the lotion and gone back to bed. Instead he did the application.

The relief. The relief! The splash of cold lotion to her breasts in the dark and then Steve's hand rubbing, spreading the lotion across her skin, really rubbing it in, a squeezing manipulation of first one breast and then the other. All of a sudden she realised Steve was using both hands. Where had he put the bottle - probably clamped between his thighs right under his no doubt now erect organ. It would be very unlikely Steve would not be like that given he was manipulating a young woman's breasts in the dark and covering them in slippery, slidey lotion. What man would not erect at that... unless... unless he had had a wank before sleep.

An erection meant it would be easy to obtain that other soothing lotion - semen. Penelope was tempted to reach and grab, tug and work and feel the lovely relief of warm splatters of semen on her stomach. The more so when, as Steve moved, she felt just the brush of the smooth knob end of an erection across her tummy.

"Steve, my pussy too, please!" She said it to prevent herself grabbing his cock.

His hands moved and, as she spread her feet wide, she felt, because she could see nothing in the dark, the touch of cooling lotion and spreading fingers between her thighs.

"More, Steve, more lotion. It's not working. All over me."

But as he applied yet more, really coating her body she felt the change, the change from pain to sexual desire and arousal. It was the point she should really have told him to stop; got Steve to leave her all covered in lotion and taken himself and his erection back to his own bedroom; left her to furious, intense, private masturbation in her bed, but the feel of his fingers was too much, too delicious, too pleasurable; she should not have thought the thoughts but could not help thinking of what that erection could do to her, perhaps just stroking her nipples with its end, stroking her clitoris or slamming into her vagina. Her mouth opened in the dark at the thought of simply sucking it. Sucking a lovely, thick, warm, hard cock.

Steve worked her, worked her breasts and sex bringing her to orgasm - several times. Standing orgasms one after another. She was putty in his hands, so wet with lotion, perspiration and sexual lubrication, a girl totally absorbed in sexual feeling. Her legs almost gave way at the first orgasm, standing there in total darkness in a strange house on its landing as her naked colleague's fingers roamed - everywhere.

"I...I've got to lie down, Steve. But don't, don't stop."

He could have done anything to her, put his penis wherever he wanted and done whatever he wanted. He could have taken her request to lie down as an invitation to more than lie with her but to lie upon her. He could so easily have taken her, he could have opened the front door and let his friends in to take her and she could have done nothing but accept and enjoy yet more sexual feeling.

Yet Steve did nothing more than slide his penis against her: and even that could have been accidental. They were on the bed together as close as could be and given how men's penises stuck out and how big they were touching was inevitable. He did not, though, get up on her and insert himself, easy as it would have been to do with her thighs so spread and all that slippery lotion and sexual lubrication in and around her quim.

Penelope was sure Steve was getting quite a thrill from being there naked on the bed with her and being free to fondle and lubricate but equally he was being so good about looking after her. It was so unexpected, she had not thought him the caring sort. Perhaps she had his character all wrong.

No doubt Steve was indeed getting a thrill, but was that so wrong given how much he was doing for her? It seemed sort of wrong, rather unfair on him, not to have more. Should she suck him off? He would like that - men did. It would be a fair exchange for how he had soothed her body and then made her feel so good. The thought of his cock in her mouth was exciting. Again she opened her mouth in the dark making the movements with her lips and tongue as if she was really fellating a penis, safe in the knowledge he could not see her in the dark. She did not do that but, instead, reached out and touched Steve, seeking his penis. It was, of course, in the usual place - on a man - and she grabbed and wanked it. It was a mixture of wanting to pleasure and thank Steve coupled with a need to stop her sucking or fucking it. Those ideas were so tempting in her state.

Penelope could feel another orgasm building. He was finger fucking her doing, no doubt, what he really wanted to be doing with his penis. Penelope was out of control, her head was going from side to side as her orgasm came and as her hand worked the cock at speed. It too proved out of control. There was no aiming by Penelope, no thought about when and where it might 'go off' - come. Her hand was not directing it, not sending it carefully onto Steve's tummy or her breasts but rather her hand was pulling it this way and that so the semen, when it came spurting, went flying everywhere. She could feel but not see it. She did not, could not, see it start but just felt the effects. The penis in her hand sending spurts of of semen up into the air, to fall down in the pitch blackness here there and everywhere all over their bodies. Warm droplets of semen raining down upon them. Only in the morning did Penelope worry some might have flown to her sex and been pushed inside by Steve's thrusting fingers.

Penelope awoke to find Steve standing by her bed with a cup of tea. He was not naked, not presenting his penis, not making it loom soft or erect over her, seeking an early morning hand job or a suck; he was not even in his pyjamas but fully dressed. The contrast with her was marked: her sheet was thrown back and her pink, naked body was completely on show. The way she was lying with thighs apart would have meant Steve would have seen everything when he had come in the door. Perhaps he had stood for a time and stared at her and her hairy quim, no doubt still messy with lotion. But not cum: Steve had been good she recalled, had not done what few men could have resisted and pushed his penis into her and inseminated. A relief! She would not have stopped him she knew. She had been a woman in heat, in oestrus perhaps.

Not cum within her but, undoubtedly, there on her stomach, breasts and even thighs the dried evidence of his release - her own doing It had seemed only right - at the time.

"Oh tea! Thank you, Steve, you are being so kind."

Penelope did not, of course, expect to leave the house that day and the most she expected to do was walk naked in the confines of the back garden. It was a fine day, though, and Steve suggested a walk knowing a wood with infrequently used paths where she could safely walk naked but for sandals.

"Can't really go for a pub lunch though in just your silk wrap."

Possibly, just possibly with it well tied she could, but Penelope did not feel at all keen about the idea. Whilst she went along with the suggestion of the walk she did not, in fact, wear the silk at all. She had, of course, expected to wear it in the car as they had done on the drive up but when she walked out of the front door with Steve, terribly conscious of her nudity, she found it was not where she had left it on the front seat.

"I put it in my haversack along with our picnic in case... in case we meet someone."

"B...b...but what if someone looks into our car/"

"Just crouch down a little, nobody looks in that sort of detail. There are no traffic lights, we shall be on the move the whole time."

Another new experience, sitting in the passenger seat of a car stark naked but for a pair of sandals as she was driven for miles and miles along country roads. Eventually they stopped beside the road and Steve got out.

"Here we are."

Another new experience, setting off for a ramble not only without a haversack but without clothes or even a handbag. Steve in open neck shirt, shorts, walking shoes and socks plus the haversack: she in nothing, absolutely nothing. except sandals on her feet.

"I don't think there'll be many, if any, stinging nettles but my legs are as bare as yours so you will not be alone."

"It won't be just my legs will it, Steve? Somewhere more delicate perhaps! If your todger was out in the open how would you like that getting stung?"

Steve was looking at her, directly looking at her pubic hair - so on display. "I'd have thought you'd have to walk into a patch to get stung there! But, yeah, I suppose I'd be a bit more vulnerable. Would you prefer if I walked naked too?"

Penelope laughed. "Only if we come to the stinging nettles." For the time being there were none.

The whole experience of having to go away with Steve Knowles of all people and the problems of her condition did not mean she could not appreciate the prettiness of the path by a wood, the morning scents and the bright warm sunlight.

The allusion to her genitalia brought it so home to Penelope the strange, sort of sexual predicament she was in. Steve had not been forward the night before when she had so needed that cream, had not tried deliberately to rub his, actually quite big, penis against her. She had not felt him squeeze it between her breasts, as she could very much imagine he would like to do and slide in all that slippery lotion, he had not asked her to blow him or try, slyly, to slip himself inside her vagina or, not so slyly, even her bottom. It was she who had wanked him off, she who had initiated the hand job. It had been meant as a thank you and not because she needed the soothing properties of his semen. He had, after all, provided plenty of that special lotion.

Walking behind Steve in his shorts, she bit her lip. The thought of semen had sent a little shiver through her. She realised in a subconscious, animalistic way, that her mind had registered how soothing, how relieving Steve's semen had been on her breasts and now associated its production not as the likely outcome of sexual relations with a man but with its skin soothing properties as well. The mere idea of smoothing splashes of warm semen across her body gave her a strangely comfortable feeling. It was strange how the mind and subconscious worked. How the mind could be trained.

Steve had been right about the lack of other walkers. They walked alone through a lovely wood with the sun slanting down through the trees giving a dappled light to the ground. In the wood they walked side by side but a few footpaths were narrow enough for them to need to walk one in front of the other. When she was in front Penelope wondered how much Steve enjoyed watching her naked bottom.

They sat at the edge of a wood looking down into a bit of a valley to eat their picnic lunch. Penelope was careful where she sat. It was not just stinging nettles that could hurt -- there were thistles as well. Not at all what you wanted on the soft skin of your bottom let alone the delicate skin of your anus!

Steve had explained it was mostly a circular walk with hardly any need to retrace their steps. The emptiness of the countryside in the morning seemed to change in the afternoon. First there was a man sitting by the path whom they came across quite unexpectedly not seeing him until they were right up to him. His grin as he looked at them was not unsurprising. Penelope squeaked and tried to hide herself with hands to pubes and breasts but he had seen plenty enough before that. She was a bit surprised to find Steve knew the man, indeed had played with him in a local rugby team in the past. Penelope felt uncomfortable as Steve exchanged a few words with him. She had wanted to hurry on and was so conscious, when they walked on, of the man's eyes staring at her bottom.