Melissa was downright hot. When her parents moved out of the townhouse next to mine and Melissa and her two college room-mates moved in, I was one happy man. Every time I saw her, she was either on her way back from the gym dressed in some workout clothes or on her way back from class in a pair of jeans and a T shirt. I think anything she wore would look sexy on her. She had that kind of body.
Talking to her, on the other hand, was a completely different story. She was probably 20 or 21 years old and I'm 32, but when we talk, we're not just on different levels, it's like we're from completely different planets. Whenever she (or one of her friends) starts talking, I just can't help myself, but I almost immediately tune her out and start checking her out. I knew one day that habit was bound to get me in trouble.
On one afternoon, I was coming home from work and ran into Melissa in the driveway. She smiled and after exchanging greetings, she started going on and on about something to do with a massage therapy class or something and something to do with practical exercises and such. With her standing there in a tight pair of low-rise jeans and a little belly shirt, I really couldn't concentrate on what she was saying and lost the whole context of the message. I usually don't get that caught up in staring at a girl, but she really didn't have shit to say and as I checked her out, I could see the waistband of her thong sticking right up and out the side of her jeans. The thong matched her shirt and was sticking out a good inch above the waistband, like it was meant to be on display.
She kept rambling on and on about some new class she was in and was just grinning from ear to ear and she even started twisting her hair with the fingers of one hand. I got the impression she really liked talking about this new class, whatever it was. I'm sure she said what it was, but I wasn't listening. I kept just answering "uh-huh" to whatever she said, but I had no clue what she was talking about until she reached out and grabbed me on the arm and said, "Oh, cool, so are you free this afternoon?"
"This afternoon?" I asked. "Free?" What was she talking about?
"Yeah," she said, giggling a little. "It's only going to take about and hour and I promise it won't hurt."
"It won't?" I asked. What the hell was she talking about?
"No, silly," she said, obviously thinking I was joking around with her. "I'm a student, but I promise, I'll be gentle."
"Okay," I said. "What time?" I think I'd agreed to doing some homework or something with her. She'd asked me for help with math homework in the past and I'd helped her do a thesis paper on economics, so it wouldn't be out of the question for her to ask me for some help with something, but I also vaguely remembered her saying something about some massage therapy class, but how could she need help with that? I don't know shit about anatomy.
"How about in half an hour?" She asked.
"Sure," I said. "You're sure it won't take long? I have to get some work done this afternoon." Whatever she had planned, I needed to plan a way out. As much as I liked staring at her, the prospect was one of diminishing returns. The longer I stared at her, the more chance I had of getting in trouble, especially if it involved listening.
"Okay," She said. "I'll go get everything ready. "I'll see you in half an hour.
She scurried off into her house and I went to mine. What had I agreed to do? As far as I knew, I'd just volunteered to help her with her homework. I went inside, cranked my computer on, and started working where I'd left off when I'd left the office. Before I knew it, 30 minutes had passed and I remembered I'd agreed to help Melissa out with her homework. I got up from my desk and went next door.
When I got to her house and rang the doorbell, I couldn't help but feel a little nervous. Fortunately, she answered right away. When she invited me in, I realized I hadn't been inside the house since her parents had moved out and that was over a year ago.
I followed Melissa through the house to the den in the back. The layout was obviously designed to be a college girl pad and was only marginally better decorated than a bachelor pad would be. Lots of fluffy pillows on the couches and love seat, frilly pictures, candles and all things feminine decorated the room. However, unlike most college houses, this one had a massage table in the center of the room.
"Are you ready to get started?" She asked.
"Uh..." I stammered.
"How about I give you a minute to strip down?" she asked, placing a white towel on the massage table. "You can cover yourself with this."
"You mean?" I started to ask.
"I'll go in the other room. Undress and lay on your stomach on the table. Put the towel over you and call me when you're ready," she said, still smiling.
I couldn't remember agreeing to this. What had I gotten into?
"Uh, okay," I said. "You're sure it's okay?"
"Yeah," she said as she walked away. "I'm doing it for school. You're my homework."
I stood in the middle of her den and slowly started peeling clothes off, first my shirt, then shoes and socks, then pants. I was going to take my briefs off, but figured I should leave them on, just in case. I didn't want to freak her out and I didn't feel very comfortable being naked in front of her, even if I was covered by a towel.
I folded my clothes neatly, then climbed onto the massage table, got on my stomach, and pulled the towel over on top of my ass. This was really weird to me. I never would have imagined I'd be doing this kind of thing with the girl next door.
"Okay, I'm ready," I said.
Melissa came back in the room and stood beside the table. In the amount of time it took me to get undressed, she'd changed into a pair of loose shorts and a loose-fitting top with spaghetti straps. The shorts were also low-rise and her thong was sticking out the side again, obviously intentionally this time. I couldn't be certain, but I thought she had also removed her bra. The way I was facing, I couldn't get a good look, at least not without drawing attention to myself.
Melissa started applying some kind of lotion to the backs of my legs and feet and started massaging one leg.
"I thought you were talking about some kind of homework," I said. Her hands felt warm and gentle on my body.
"This is homework," she said, then as she started to explain, my mind started to wander as she said something about how she had an option of massage therapy or kinesiology and how she knew there would be this kind of homework, but she didn't want to ask any of the guys at school because they might get the wrong idea about what she was asking them to do and she didn't need that kind of headache.
"Why not get one of your room-mates to volunteer?" I asked.
"Are you complaining about getting a free massage?" she asked.
"No," I answered. "I'm just curious as to why you'd pick me instead of one of them."
"Well," she said, "I guess I'd rather massage a man than a woman, if you know what I mean."
I didn't know what she meant, and to be honest, I felt like she was giving me mixed signals every time I had ever talked to her. Sometimes I felt like she was hitting on me. Other times, I thought she was just being friendly. Maybe that was just a product of my inability to listen to her for very long. I'd blank out in the conversation and get back in it when there was something that sounded like some kind of sexual innuendo. I was just starting to do a mental debate about whether or not this was the way some date rapes happen when I realized I was doing it again. Damn, I'd already missed a lot of what she was talking about. She'd been talking about something for a couple of minutes now and had started massaging on the other leg and I couldn't tell you two details about what she was talking about, except that it involved some guy named Brad or maybe Chad. Other than that, I had no idea what she was talking about.
I guess I should be ashamed of myself for not being able to pay attention to her when she talks, but I think it's more of a product of her and I having so little in common on a mental level. I'm not like this with the women I work with and some of them are pretty good-looking, too. It's only when I'm talking to Melissa that my mind goes blank.
As her hands moved up my legs, past my knees, I had to remind myself that I was getting a therapeutic massage, not some twenty-dollar "special" in some seedy massage parlor somewhere that would end in a blowjob or a fist fuck. Her hands sliding up my legs were arousing me a bit and I tried to fight off the tingling feeling I was getting in my groin.
Melissa's hands moved on up my thighs where they came in contact with the towel and a little beyond until they came into contact with the briefs I was wearing.
"Hey," she said, lifting the towel up and off of me to expose my underwear. "What are you doing with those on?"
"Well..." I started to explain.
"Forget it," she said, grabbing the waist of my briefs. "Lift your hips a bit."
I complied and was surprised, and just a tad embarrassed, that she just pulled my underwear down and off of me. I was glad I was facing down. Otherwise, she'd be looking right at my naked, semi-rigid penis. As soon as my underwear was off, I pressed my hips back down against the massage table to make sure she didn't get a chance to stare at my dick.
I thought she'd put the towel back on my right away, but she didn't. I was feeling a little self-conscious, but she jumped right in there and started massaging my bare ass and kept talking to me the whole time, like nothing was out of the ordinary.
At one point, she pushed my legs apart a bit and massaged the insides of each thigh and right up the crack of my ass. I could feel my cock stiffening as her hands came so close to my cock and balls, they were aching to be touched. While she massaged the inside of one thigh, I felt her finger come into contact with my balls. I flinched and I thought she would pull away, but she didn't. Instead, her fingers lingered there for a moment. I secretly wished she could just reach in and start stroking my cock, but I had little faith that was going to happen.
Melissa continued to give me a professional massage all over the rest of my back and neck. She took such a long time doing my shoulders and neck, I lost my erection and nearly fell asleep at the same time. Because I wasn't paying attention, I was kind of surprised when she told me to roll over.
I did as I was instructed, but as I did so, I found the towel lying beside me, so I pulled it over my soft cock and balls and let the towel drape itself over my entire waist.
Melissa again started at my feet and worked her way up my legs, then to my stomach and chest, then finally to my arms. I'd thought she was finished until her hands started making their way back down my body and to my stomach. Her hands pushed the towel off my waist a bit and she folded the sides of it toward my crotch and started massaging my hips.
All of this was making me nervous. With one little motion, the towel would be off of me and I'd be completely naked in front of her. Then, she went in the other direction and pressed her fingers along my thighs, then up under the towel, where her hands almost came into contact with my balls again.
I was feeling a bit uncomfortable with that towel over me. Her hands were dangerously close to my cock and I was starting to get aroused, making a tent out of the towel. I have to hand it to her, though, she was still very professional and still chatting away.
One hand sank under the towel again and the other was on my stomach, making circular motions. The hand that was under the towel came into direct contact with my balls. I was surprised at that and flinched again.
"Oh, sorry about that," Melissa said. "I didn't mean to touch you so roughly. With the towel covering you, I didn't know exactly where everything was, if you know what I mean."
Just as I was realizing the humor in Melissa accidentally handling my balls, I was even more startled.
