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Adrian

It started off with a massage. It always does. I had a serious (almost unhealthy) crush on 2 very special girls at this time. They were the best of friends, and I knew they were both unattainable. One openly expressed a desire to keep our friendship as it was, and the other had a boyfriend, of whom I didn't approve. I was invited over to one of the girls' houses one afternoon. I was over at her house until very late that evening. Her parents and younger sister had already gone to bed.

The two of us were watching TV on the couch, and I worked up the nerve to ask her if I could rub her shoulders. We were both in band and she had complained earlier about her shoulders being sore. I was young and relatively inexperienced at the time, but I tried to be a gentleman to the extent my hormones would allow. I started off with simple strokes. The fact that I was touching this very sexy girl in an intimate way was very arousing. Knowing her father was a police officer, and sleeping just down the hallway became almost a turn on as well. The fear of getting caught was making my heart race

The hour grew later and my hands had become more daring. I think that sleep was catching up with me and that hindered my reasoning capabilities. I was shocked to find my fingertips dipping lower and lower past her collarbone, and she didn't protest. At first, I thought it might just be her exhaustion that didn't prevent me from doing this. I wasn't sure, but proceeded with caution. Not caution on my part, but on her behalf. I really didn't want to upset her in any way. You would just have to know the situation.

My fingers went lower and lower past and I could feel the swell of her full breasts. I felt myself being aroused, so I put a pillow on my crotch to hide it from her. To this day, I wonder if she knew just what was racing through my mind.

As my fingers went lower, she appeared to be uncomfortable. It appeared to me that she was receptive at first, but then had second thoughts. You can't blame her, she was probably thinking of her boyfriend. I adjusted my stroke distance, and stayed reasonably above of her wonderfully sexy breasts. Not wanting to upset her, I changed the focused area of my massage. I asked her to lean forward and rest her face in her hands. She instead laid forward on a pillow. Her shirt raised up to expose her sacrum.

I remember what it was like to touch her bare skin for the first time. I ran my fingertips down the small of her back, tracing her spine almost to the top of her ass. I could tell by her breathing that it almost tickled. Her skin was warm because she had been leaning back against me. It was a warm evening to begin with, but her T-shirt was not hot enough to make her perspire. Her skin was so soft. It was like touching warm silk that had just been brought in from being allowed to gently dry in the sun for the afternoon. Her beautiful brown skin shone barely as the light from the TV danced its way hypnotically around the room. It barely illuminated her skin, but it was just enough for my wandering and hungry eyes to steal a forbidden glance at what I knew I could never have. My fingertips tingled as they experienced this new sensation.



For the first time, I was able to touch this girl after having to watch her from afar. Not only that, but I was actually invited to touch her. I never got the courage to tell her how I felt, but deep down, I hoped she knew. Have you ever been given the opportunity to be that close to someone you were desperately and impossibly in love with?

I remember savoring the sensation as I started to massage her lower back with deep firm inward strokes using primarily my thumbs, and she began to moan. It wasn't a moan in any sexual way, and I knew that. I didn't pretend it was. It was a moan of relief. It made me feel very warm inside to bring this girl for whom I had deep feelings this kind of relief. I saw her sacrum and touched it gingerly. She didn't know, but for me, that was like her allowing me to fondle her breasts. I think it's her fault that the sacrum is my favorite part of a woman's body.

Not wanting to take advantage of her naivety in that situation, I continued to rub her with gentle and firm strokes in varying degrees. I used my whole hand, and changed from using my fingers and palms to my knuckles to make sure I could continue this for as long as she allowed. It was like, I would use any excuse I could just to touch her body for an instant longer. I couldn't believe this goddess was allowing such a lowly person as myself to touch her in this intimate way.

I used my thumbs to gradually work my way farther up her back, under her shirt. I never asked her to remove it. Partially, because I was afraid she would think that I had less than pure intentions, but mostly because I didn't want to jeopardize being able to continue touching her.

My fingers found their way up to the bottom of her bra. I tried putting my fingers underneath but it didn't work too well. With a very hopeful and daring attempt, I started to undo her buckle. As my clumsy hands fumbled obtusely around, she reached back and with one simple stroke undid it. Much to my surprise, she, with 2 fingers no less, emancipated her breasts partially from their form fitting prison. (I have since mastered the mysteries of the bra.) She let out a heavy sigh of relief as the clasps went off to the sides and freed the breasts I so desperately wanted to touch and lovingly caress. I maintained my composure to the best of my abilities. My cock had other thoughts at this point. The sigh coupled with the fact that my hands were mere inches from her breasts enraged my hormones. It was to the point that my cock was seemingly trying to rip its way out of my shorts and touch her naked back with its drooling head through the pillow.

My fingers continued working their magic despite the intent orders from my raging hormones. I moved my thumbs behind the upper straps and slid them down past her shoulders and continued with her massage. Her shirt was above the bra line on her back, but was sandwiched between her breasts and the pillow she was hugging and leaning on in the front. To my chagrin, her breasts were still covered by more than I had any hope of removing. Her head lay facing the sliding glass door across her living room while I pretended to be interested in what was on the TV.


I couldn't tell you what was on, but I can tell you that her hair smelled subtly sweet. Her entire intoxicatingly arousing scent teased the inside of my nostrils. I wish I could put into words the sensation gathered by my entire body that evening. It would be much easier for me to relay this memory for sure.

I pressed my palms forward up her now naked back and pushed my fingertips into her skin. Her hair was off to the side, but was above the shirt anyway, so I didn't have to stop touching her to move it. I think that I was in a state of half dreaming, half awake when I imagined what it would be like to taste her. I could swear I had actually been doing it, but I know it was merely a fabrication.

For an instant, I imagined myself pulling her slowly back to my chest. I pulled my left hand out from behind her shirt, and gently tugged her hair in such a way to expose her neck to my eager mouth. I gently sank my teeth into her right upper tr*pezius. I then worked my way gently raking my teeth inward toward her neck and kissing it. I caressed her neck with my eager tongue as I kissed her where the tr*pezius joins her neck. I could feel her pulse race with excitement as my soft lips delicately passed over her jugular. Just as I saw myself beginning to reach for one of her heaving breasts, the dancing light from the TV eased me back into reality. I noticed that my hands were completely motionless and were still where I had been massaging her back. My heart was trying its best to beat its way out of my chest.

I continued my massage with those thoughts racing through my head, wondering if things would turn out how I had imagined. My adrenaline was rushing and my hormones were giving my hands orders that my heart would not allow them to fulfill. The hormones some how convinced my mouth to ask her if I could touch them. Those were the exact words I used. I asked, Can I touch them?... She sighed. I could tell by that the answer would be no. I could also tell that it was at least being considered. Much to my dismay, she ended the session by telling me that it was very late, and that she needed to go to bed. Whoever said nothing ventured, nothing gained... needs to be kicked in the balls. I should have kept my fucking mouth shut.

Just as easily as she had freed her breasts from their prison, she closed the bra strap that I had worked so very fervently to undo. I stifled a small sighing whimper. She adjusted her shirt while facing away from me, and I never got to see or touch them. I kissed her hand as she left the room, and I could see a warm, and shy, smile on her face as she turned to me. However, she didn't ever completely face me. She didn't tell me to go home, nor did she tell me I could stay. I lay back to savor the moment and drifted off to sleep. I awoke about 3 hours later. It was almost 6 am, and I noticed that no lights were on. I saw it as a sign and made my hasty and quiet leave.

As I raced home, my mind wandered back to the brief fantasy I had of being able to kiss her. I wondered what would have happened if I had just done it. In my heart, I think she may have allowed it to some extent, but I knew she would have felt guilty. I was glad I didn't try to pursue anything at that point.


As soon as I got home, I jumped into a very cold shower and jerked off. It didn't take long for me to get off, and I came so hard that my knees almost gave out. Had I not been holding on to the washcloth rack at the back of my shower, I think I would actually have fallen down. It shot onto the shower wall so forcefully I could actually hear the impact over my groaning and the running water. I shot off four times very violently and then a weaker fifth shot and a final sixth. I had my eyes closed during my orgasm, and it was like I was actually touching her. When I opened my eyes, I was amazed to see that I shot off past the washcloth rack, which was eye level with me standing straight up. It was the farthest I had ever shot.

I spoke to her a couple of days later, and she told me that her mother saw me sleeping on the couch. I was afraid that she got in trouble, but the story continued. She told me that her mother was surprised, because I was there one minute, but not the next. She jokingly mentioned that she was surprised as well that there was still milk left in the refrigerator. She wasn't upset that I had stayed, and she actually preferred me to stay instead of trying to drive home at such a late hour if I was so tired. Upon hearing this information, I kicked myself because I so desperately wanted to make her breakfast in bed. I wonder how long it will be until I see her again. Maybe I will get the opportunity.

End of Story