A high school boy gives frequent massages to a friend but wants to go farther

When I was a senior in high school, I had a friend named
Angie. Angie was two years younger than me. She had long
black hair parted down the middle, plump tits which
seemd always ready to burst from her tight t-shirts, and
a voluptuous, curvy body. I lusted for her like no other
girl I have ever known, but we were just friends.
Sometimes we would go swimming together, driving to the
lake in my car.

When we arrived we would change into our swimsuits in
the car. I looked away out of politeness but was always
clever enough to catch a view of her lovely melons in
the rearview mirror. When I changed, I took my time,
hoping she would catch a glimpse of my dick but she was
always looking out the window.

During the winter months, we spent a lot of time at her
house in her room, listening to records. We both loved
music and knew a lot about it, and so we could stay up
late into the night, lying on her bed, looking out the
window and talking. I could barely conceal my adoration
for her, and one night, I told her, “Close your eyes.”

“Why?”

“I have a surprise for you.”

She closed them and waited for her surprise. I leaned
over and pressed my lips to hers. I kissed her for
several seconds. She did not return the kiss, but she
didn’t draw away, either. When I stopped, she said,
“Paul, I don’t think of you that way. I value our
friendship and don’t want to ruin it.”

I never tried to kiss her again. We remained friends,
and still spent much time together in her room,
listening to records.

One night, she asked for a backrub. She lay on her
stomach, and I went to work on her shoulders, working my
way down as far as the waistband of her sweatpants.
There was nothing sexual or even remarkable about it.
However, the next night she asked again. This time, soon
after I had started, she said, “Wait, let me take my bra
off.”

She removed it from under her t-shirt and lay back down.
Unfortunately she was careful not to reveal anything.
The removal of her bra enabled me to massage her back
more efficiently and without the interference of any
straps. After several minutes, I had bravely slipped my
hands under her shirt and was moving them over her
smooth, warm skin. Innocently she purred, “Oh, that
feels so good!”

This was too much. Didn’t she know how much I lusted
after her? Nevertheless, I was too afraid to risk
anything. I cared for her as a friend and didn’t want to
make her mad, so I dutifully rubbed her back while my
dick throbbed in my pants.

This routine went on for weeks, then months, and
eventually Angie was comfortable enough to remove her
shirt entirely; sometimes I got a good look at her
breasts but usually not. Then one day I got a brilliant
idea (readers will wonder why I had not thought of this
sooner) and expanded the backrub to include her arms,
hands, fingers, thighs, calves, feet, face, neck, even
her buttocks.

By now I had caressed, kneaded, and squeezed every part
of her body except her breasts and pubic region. She was
removing more clothing, and soon she was stripping to
just a pair of gym shorts. I would sit on the bed with
my back to the wall, and she would lean back in my arms
while I rubbed her neck and shoulders. Her eyes would be
closed, but mine would be staring down at her tits and
swollen nipples.

Finally I could take it no more, and gently cupped her
tits in my hands. She squirmed a little, but made no
attempt to stop me, as I kneaded them gently. I stroked
the sides with my fingers, I weighed them in my palms, I
squooshed them flat against her chest. I did it very
“professionally” the was a real masseur might. There was
still no suggestion of sex, our massage routine was
still just that–a massage and no more.

I was in heaven. The messages were now lasting a full
hour. Lotion was added to the mix, then later a
blindfold. I began to wonder, “Did she want me? Was I
one step away from a wild fuck session? Was she waiting
for me to make a move?” I remembered her warning after I
had kissed her some months ago. I decided to go one step
further. During one massage, I let my hand brush against
her pussy. No reaction. Again I brushed it, harder this
time. Nothing.

I pretended it was all part of the routine, my fingers
would caress her foot, calf, thigh, pubic mound, her
crack, other thigh, calf, foot, then repeat. I never
lingered long, as I didn’t want to give her the
impression that my moves were anything but legitimate.
She trusted me not to attack her, and I shouldn’t betray
that trust. She had let me take it this far, and that
was as far as it should go. We were just friends, after
all.

One night I got the brilliant idea to ask her if she
would give me a massage. She seemed uninterested, but
went through the motions anyway after I stripped to my
underwear and lay on the bed. The whole massage lasted
about two minutes before she exclaimed, “My turn!” I
never asked her again.

Finally, I decided I would see how far I could go. I
began to look upon her as less of a friend and more of a
sex object. I couldn’t help it! I felt like she was
using me. I was giving her everything she wanted and
nothing she didn’t want; she was giving me the worst
case of blue balls mankind had ever known. One warm
summer night, months after I had given her the first
massage, I entered her room with an air of
determination.

I put on Black Sabbath’s first album and turned off the
lights while she undressed down to her panties and lay
on the bed on her stomach. I tied the blindfold around
her head and regarded her body hungrily. She was wearing
white cotton panties, which covered what she had but
which gave her an air of sweet innocence. I took off my
shoes and socks, leaving on my shorts and t-shirt, and
squirted a blob of lotion into my hand. I usually rubbed
my hands together to warm the lotion but this time I
slapped it straight onto her back while it was still
cold. She let out a squeal, “It’s cold!”

I straddled her ass as if it were a saddle, and began to
gently rub the lotion onto her neck and shoulders. She
used her arms as a pillow, so they were raised above her
head. This left the sides of her breasts exposed. I
rubbed the sides of them where they bulged from under
her chest. I then moved my way down to hewr lower back.

Next, I raised the band of her panties and slipped a
hand inside, rubbing her ass cheeks. She gave no
reaction, so I pulled them down a bit, exposing her
cheeks, then slapped one. She squealed but did nothing
else. I pulled her panties back up and got to work on
her feet. I rubbed between her toes and caressed her
feet a long time, before moving up to her calves, then
the back on her knees, then her thighs. I let my hands
slip as far up as her crotch, which felt hot.

I grabbed her thighs and pulled them apart, just a
little, then rubbed the extra-soft region just below her
pussy, which I could smell. I breathed hot breath on her
twat, which was hidden just beneath a thin layer of
white 100% cotton, then turned her over.

I straddled her once again and grabbed her tits. These I
rubbed, squeezed, stroked with my fingertips, then gave
the nipples a gentle squeeze. No reation from Angie
whatsoever. I moved down her belly while pondering my
next move. My dick was on fire. It was so hard it hurt a
little bit. Side One of the album ended, so I left her
and turned it over to Side Two.

The moonlight was streaming through her window,
illuminating her almost naked body. Her skin was pale,
almost white, her lips were full and and pouty, her hair
black as night. Her nipples stood erect and pink. As I
clambered back onto the bed her breasts jiggled. I
gently lifted the eleastic band on her panties and
rubbed her pubic mound, just for a second before pulling
my hand out and moving down her legs. I didn’t want to
alarm her;

I was having a good time. I wanted this to last through
Side Two at least.

She raised her arms over her head and put them behind
her head, which had the effect of making her breasts
stand out even further. Instinctively I moved back up
her legs, brushing my hand over her crocth rather
roughly, straddling her and pressing my body against
hers. I knew she could feel my hardness against her leg.
I climbed forward and let my dick rub against her for a
moment.

I knew for certain that she knew this was turning me on.
But was it turning her on? I no longer cared. As “A Bit
of Finger” began to playon the record player, I chuckled
as I rubbed my finger over her slit. The white cotton
was moist: this was turning her on, as well. If I
weren’t such a coward I might have taken her right
there, but I was still afraid. I wasn’t sure she
wouldn’t sit up suddenly and say, “No, Paul! That’s
enough!”

My dick was so hot I was sure it was glowing like a
white-hot poker. I carefull took off my shorts but left
my briefs on, then straddled her once more. Slowly, I
pulled down the waistband of my underwear, exposing my
full erection. I put more lotion on my hand, then began
to stroke myself with one hand, while kneading one of
her tits with my other hand. I moved slowly, so she
wouldn’t guess what I was doing. I pinched one nipple,
then the other, and I jacked off with the lotion.

Awkwardly, I moved down and took a deep breath of her
pussy odor, which was potent and which served only to
arouse me more. I let my lips brush against the fabric
covering her mound, then licked her thigh, before
positioning myself once again atop her as if if I were
riding a horse. I was getting ready to cum, so I pumped
my dick faster and faster as I squeezed a tit, a little
too hard, I think, for I was also using it for support,
for she uttered a faint, “Ouch!”

Finally I exploded with a muffled grunt as a thick,
gooey rope of cum made a stripe on her body from her
navel to her cheek. A second squirt coated a breast, a
third landed on her arm. I stopped for a moment and
licked the cum off her cheek, thankful she was still
blindfolded. She seemed oblivious to the whole thing.

I grabbed the lotion bottle and squirted some lotion on
her in various places. Did she not notice the difference
in temperature between my hot jism and the cold lotion?
She certainly said nothing as I began to rub a
cum/lotion mixture into her young flesh.

Later, after I removed the blindfold, she said to me,
“That was sooo relaxing. Thank you so much, Paul.” She
said this without any indication that she knew what I
had done.

Soon after this I moved away to go to college, and I
never got to fuck my delightful, lovely friend.

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