“Of course, if I was doing this,” I said, digging my fingers in and managing to hit that tickle spot first go, “you might have cause to complain.”
She screamed and practically levitated out of the pool before settling back down, giggling.
“Don’t do that,” she snapped once she got herself under control.
“I’m not doing that,” I pointed out. I wasn’t either. While she was jumping up and settling down I’d changed position. I now sitting in the pool and had hold of her feet, massaging her soles. That was something she was finding it hard to protest about.
I didn’t keep on rubbing her feet. I just naturally had to extend my reach, my hands soothing their way along her lovely legs. Larissa’s eyes had been closed while I was rubbing her feet but now they were half open, watching my hands as they moved steadily higher. As my hands moved towards her mound her breathing started to falter. When my hands moved apart, rubbing either side of her mound, she seemed to give a little shudder and started breathing normally again, possibly a little harder than before.
When I say I rubbed either side of her mound that was with my fingers. I will admit that the backs of my hand brushed against her pudenda, but that’s all they did. OK, they may have brushed the sides at the same time, and possibly her pudenda got gently squeezed between them, but it’s not as though I was doing it deliberately. Collateral damage, as they say.
This time as my hands approached her breasts it occurred to me that I’d already brushed them earlier and she hadn’t really complained. Not really. Just queried what I was doing. Accordingly it seemed fair and reasonable that I should ignore the fact that they were her breasts and just continue with my massage. Breast, chest, there’s not that much difference now is there?
Her breathing definitely faltered when my hands moved over her breasts and her eyes went from half-closed to wide open. I held my hands there for a moment, thumbs reaching out to caress her nipples, nipples that were certainly standing up and paying attention by this time.
Being a gentleman I didn’t try to push things along. I just slowly reversed, lightly massaging, pausing at the bottom of her ribs, laughing when she tensed in case I tickled her again, moved further down, laughing when she called me a rude name.
One hand came to a halt on her mons, the heel of my hand pressing harder, rubbing hard enough to feel her pubic bone, continuing on, dragging my hand across her mound as I went. Not stopping to enjoy the feel of her, but certainly dragging my hand across it, one finger tracing her slit as I went past.
Down to her feet and another foot rub and then slowly back up. This time her eyes stayed shut all the way, her breathing barely hesitating as my hands passed over her mound as I deliberately rubbed it as I passed. Lingering for a while on her breasts, feeling her starting to move a little under my touch, restless.
Another couple of excursions to her feet and back and her breathing seemed a trifle ragged to me, especially when my hands lingered in forbidden places, touching and caressing.