We had just moved to New England after my dad retired. My parents bought a house in a tiny town in the middle of the woods, and there was literally nothing to do for miles around. Coming from a major city, this was like hell. No parties, no freedom, no public transportation, and no girls that I knew...what else was there? I had just turned 18, and I was too young, too city-oriented, and too rebellious to enjoy the woods just then.
In a merciful moment, my mom offered me up as a painter for my aunt's house in Connecticut. One of my cousins, home from her sophomore year in college, was planning on painting the house inside and out over the summer to get it ready to sell. Best of all, their house was in a bigger town, closer to New York, and there was pizza close by-I accepted immediately!
The first few days were okay-we worked all day, ate lunch at a deli, and had dinner with my aunt when she got home from work in the City. My cousin was good company-wholesome, athletic, and kind of dorky. That was good, though-I was two years younger and pretty dorky myself for all my urban living. On the plus side, my aunt drank a lot, so she was more than willing to keep the fridge stocked with cold beers for us, and never questioned their disappearance.
On the fourth day, however, the ladder slipped. I caught it before it crashed through a window, but wrenching it out of the way hurt my shoulder. I called it an afternoon and went inside to get some Advil. My cousin found her mom's Arnica cream and offered to rub it on my shoulder. We got beers, and I took off my shirt and sat on the back deck. She sat behind me on a chaise and rubbed the soothing cream into my back. Now-full disclosure-I've always been skinny. I ran track, played basketball, and played soccer year-round, but I've never bulked up. What I do have, however, is long, wiry muscles all over my body. As she rubbed, Wendy commented on this.
She asked if I minded being so skinny, and when I said I did, she said "Don't worry-you have good muscles-they're just not bulky the way some guys get. They're strong, though...I can tell."
I said something grateful, and we chatted some more. My shoulder was feeling better, and I told her she could stop (even though I was enjoying the attention a lot!)
What she said next changed our lives forever.
"Actually, I was just thinking that I can't make that one part feel better by itself-all those little muscles in your back are connected. Lay down so I can rub them all."
Blissfully, I stretched out on one of our sunbathing towels and crossed my arms under my head. Wendy knelt beside me and rubbed my back with long strokes. After a while, she straddled my hips to do a better job. I could feel her little ass on mine, and started to imagine how close her pussy was to me. I'd never really thought of her sexually before, but this was a whole new game, and I was loving every minute of it. My cock stirred against the towel. I'm sure I was smiling, and I gave out the occasional groan of pleasure as her hands worked on me. She followed the strained muscle through all its connections, and it felt amazing.
When she slowed down, I thought with some disappointment that she was done. Instead, she moved off me and said, "Roll over."
I hesitated. I was 18, sexually aroused, wearing loose shorts, and I had a "growing" problem...
"C'mon," she said, tugging my shoulder.
