Without conscious thought, her hips moved, just a little, and her clit exploded like a cherry bomb. She couldn’t suppress her moan and his fingers paused. “Are you okay?” he asked. Oh, God, she thought. Yes. I’m more than okay. I just needed to, um, release a little steam from the boiler. “I’m fine,” she managed. She felt his stare, felt it as surely as she did his hands. After a few moments, as though nothing had happened, his hands began working again.
For the next 40 minutes, Mark worked nonstop and the two of them hardly spoke. She lost herself in the feeling and his hands became her entire world, stroking, lifting, kneading, and twisting her body until she felt like a blood-filled pretzel. But her nipples remained erect and her swollen clit was once more crying out for release. Then the time came for her to switch to her back.
She rolled over and one of the towels almost slipped off her. She had a sudden thought: What would he do if he knew how turned-on I am right now – What would he do then? Melanie stretched out and closed her eyes. Knowing my luck, probably nothing.
She felt him move the towels around, followed by the slow drip of oil on her skin. Was it just her imagination, or had he arranged the towel so that her breasts were more visible? She kept her eyes shut and teased herself, using her imagination to visualize what he must be seeing. In her mind’s eye, her breasts seemed to expand under his touch, growing fuller and more round. And her nipples! Oh, her nipples must seem like ripe, budding shoots threatening to burst up through the towel.
Still, his hands were circumspect, rubbing near but never actually on her breasts. As he moved on to her shoulders, she groaned inwardly. She needed release so badly now. Her right hand slipped under the bottom towel and began to creep towards her pussy. He stopped for a moment and adjusted both towels, so that her left side and leg were both accessible to him. Again, it seemed that his arrangement exposed more of her than was necessary. Maybe he did know.
Or perhaps he was only indulging himself in a voyeuristic fantasy, recognizing her need and prolonging it, keeping her in torment while he made her wait and wonder. Maybe he did prefer men and her obvious state was nothing more than a joke to him, something to laugh about later while his gay lover sucked him off. “Can you imagine?” he’d laugh. “She actually came on to me!”
But it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except for his skillful hands massaging her flesh and her fingers as they edged closer to the swollen lips of her cunt. Mark poured more sandalwood oil onto her hip and upper leg. A few drops trickled down the inside of her thigh, finding a home in her glistening pubes. There! Her index finger slipped past her engorged lips. Melanie had to bite her lip to keep silent. Mark shifted his hands downward, one behind her knee and one under her ankle. He lifted her leg.
And then both towels slipped off.
All the air seemed to go out of the room at once. Melanie knew how she must look; her breasts heaving, her finger buried to the second knuckle inside her gaping slit. But she couldn’t bring herself to open her eyes. He set her leg down gently and she expected him to reach down and pick up the towel, covering her with it. For a long moment, nothing happened. Then she felt his wet breath on her skin and he said softly, “Let me help you with that.”