He now put just a tiny bit of pressure on her backside, slightly pulling her forward. She allowed just a little adjustment of her position, giving way to his urging, almost imperceptibly, but definitely giving in to him, at least a little.
But she did not give in entirely. Not yet. Nor did he try to force the issue. He kept his urgings subtle, just enough to make progress, but not enough to set off alarms.
She finished the massage and paused, thinking about the loving feelings she was having toward him and how the intimate moment could soon pass. Then, she asked him, barely audibly, almost whispering, “Was that enough? Want me to do it again?”
“Yes,” he breathed.
She put her thumbs back onto his forehead and began again, the adjustment causing her bottom to inch just a little further up his legs. He pushed on the covers some more as she moved. The tip of his erect penis just emerging from beneath the top sheet. Were she to look down there, she would see, but she did not. She was looking at his face, the handsome, young, much-loved face she was massaging.
Something in her expression encouraged him to press ahead a bit more. He began to caress her ass ever so slightly. She barely seemed to notice, sighing only a little at his gentle, loving touch.
He was encouraged still further by the sound, however slight, but he held back, letting her massage him, waiting patiently, then squeezing just a little more. Another little sigh. “I think you are misbehaving,” she observed casually, her voice sounding hoarse.
That encouraged him even more. He was almost ready to make his move. She was halfway down his face again, but being very deliberate, taking her time. His tension was not reduced in the least, but they played their game out.
She worked her thumbs across his upper lip and up over his cheeks, then gave that little swirl around his temples, the best part always; and as she swirled, he pulled against her bottom, firmly but still gently, and again she inched forward just a little. She gave another little sigh, as if accepting something, resigning herself. Her breathing became audible to him. He was again encouraged and released her butt so he could push the covers further down, and expose himself more fully. She felt his movements, and raised herself slightly, letting it happen, but, otherwise, she chose to ignore the liberties he was taking. It was nothing, she told herself, avoiding responsibility.
She tried to settle her breath. The massage was coming soon to its inevitable end. Some things are just inevitable, she thought to herself. You can’t control everything.
She remained coy about her exact intent. He again pushed at the covers. She felt it and knew precisely what was happening, and she raised herself up just a bit again, allowing the inevitable to unfold, as if she had no intentions of her own, as if she could not stop him from exposing himself, from anything at all that he might choose to do.
She finished the massage and, without a word, without a clear thought, she untied the bow at the top of her nightgown, revealing the fullness of her cleavage. Then she moved her hands to his shoulders, squeezing, feeling his power. She leaned forward to kiss his forehead, and her neckline fell completely open, exposing her naked breasts to his view. She kissed him softly on the forehead, then on his nose, her lips close to his own. She considered dropping further down, pressing their lips together, but thought it too much, not quite right just now.