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Gentle Hands

By: Talespin



What a day! Partly cloudy and in the low-80's, a perfect day for doing some repairs on my boat. Warm enough to wear cutoffs and a tee-shirt, cloudy enough to avoid getting the inevitable burn that precedes my mid-summer tan. I have the good fortune to own a house and dock on a beautiful lake, courtesy of a very generous lawsuit settlement. At age 48, I'm semi-retired. Now, instead of putting bad guys in jail, I'm a self-employed writer and photographer working out of my lakefront home.

So as I said, I was taking advantage of the late spring's unseasonably warm weather and doing some dock repairs while watching the college kids two docks away water skiing and having a good time. Okay, I might have been ogling the girls a little bit. Or a lot.

One girl in particular had been having a difficult time mastering the slalom ski. She had made several unsuccessful attempts, but now the loud cheers from the kids on the boat and the dock caused me to look up just in time to see she had finally managed to stay up. 

Her towboat took her on a victory lap around our bay and then headed toward the dock so she could coast in to the congratulations of her friends. I intended to join the others in applauding her, but instead I watched helplessly as she approached the dock far too fast. She hit it with a sickeningly muted thud. 

Even before she could cry out I dashed along the beach toward her dock. Her floatation vest kept her afloat and her face out of the water, so she was in no danger of drowning. Her friends were already reaching out to drag her onto the dock. I yelled for them to stop, to leave her in the water. The girl remained conscious but was crying in pain. 

I donned another floatation vest from their dock and eased myself into the water beside her. Her panicked friends screamed at me to pull her out, but I explained that the water's pressure on her buoyant body would be less painful than dragging her over the edge of the dock. My presence alongside her in the water seemed to calm the girl enough so I could ask her if she knew where she was hurt.

She said she had a sharp pain in her hips or lower abdomen. She said it hurt to move her legs.

After instructing one of her friends to call 9-1-1 and summon paramedics, I told two others to bring the dock's homemade approach ramp to me. That small approach ramp was made out of two two-by-tens, each about eight feet long and nailed side-by-side with three crosspieces. I explained to the girl that I would slide the approach ramp behind her but vertically in the water. She would feel it support the length of her body as it floated horizontally somewhat like an air mattress. Then I would just float it and her toward the beach so we could use the ramp as a backboard until the paramedics arrived. My explanation seemed to reassure her. 

The two students brought the approach ramp, and I positioned it behind the injured girl's body. I then pivoted the ramp and as planned, it was buoyant enough to let her lie more or less horizontally while we moved to shore. Once we reached the beach, two of the boys helped get the improvised backboard onto the beach. Then we carefully removed her floatation vest.

"What's your name?" I asked.

"Becky," she replied.

"Okay, Becky. I'm Lee. We've called the paramedics, but it's probably going to take them a little while to get here. Would you mind if I checked you over to get some idea of how badly you're hurt and to make sure we don't need to do anything else before they get here?"

"Go ahead," she sniffled.

I motioned to one of Becky's friends to come closer to witness what I did. The girl knelt down and took Becky's hand.

"Becky, what part of your body hit the dock?"

"I guess my butt," she replied with a painful smile. She tried to laugh a little but quickly grimaced in pain. 

"Where did that hurt when you laughed?" I asked.

She pointed to her lower abdomen and pelvis. 

"Okay, Becky. Does it hurt when you breathe? And are you having any trouble breathing?" 

"No."

"Becky, I'm going to gently touch your body in a few places. I promise that I'm not going to push hard at all. If I touch someplace and if it hurts or if you think it might hurt, will you tell me?"

"Yes."

For the next few minutes, watched closely by her friend, I gently tested Becky's body for any additional injuries. I had been observing her carefully and saw no signs of internal bleeding or shock. That was good. I moved my hands over her legs and felt no indications of fracture. She felt my touch but not pain.

We covered her with two towels to keep her still-wet body from getting chilled, and one of the students used another towel to shade her eyes. I kept talking with her to watch for signs of shock and to comfort her. A few minutes later, I heard the approaching rescue ambulance's siren.

"Becky, the paramedics will be here soon. How do you feel?"

"It still hurts, but not as bad." 

The paramedics arrived, performed the same superficial checks I had and also checked her vital signs. Then they transferred her to their backboard, immobilized her on it, put her on a gurney and left for the hospital. Shortly after the paramedics took her to the hospital, the remaining students put the boat away, picked up all their gear, and left.

I went back to my house, grateful for the police academy's emergency medical training. 

The rest of the summer past uneventfully. I occasionally thought about the injured girl, though I couldn't remember her name, and hoped she was doing well. 

The hot days of summer became the frosty mornings of early October. The boats had been put away for the season, and mine was the only occupied house in our bay. I had the beautiful fall colors all to myself. For a writer the solitude was wonderful, and for a photographer the fall colors and animal varieties were spectacular.

Having completed a mid-day run and some fireplace wood chopping, I shaved and showered and settled in for some writing time. The soothing rustle of fall leaves was punctuated by the slam of a car door. I got up from my computer and went to see who had arrived. When I opened the door, there stood the dock-crasher. I recognized her, but she looked quite different. It seemed me that when she was injured skiing, she had been rather plump. 

"Well, hello, ummm..." 

"Becky!" she said brightly and helpfully.

"Of course. Becky. Please forgive me for not remembering. Would you like to come in?" Talk about your dumb questions. Did I really think she had driven to this secluded bay to stand outside and talk?  

"Can I take your coat?" I asked as she entered.

"Thanks," she said and peeled it off. The girl who stood in front of me now was certainly not the plump water skier of summer. She wore a tight white sweater that showed off her narrow waist and enticing breasts. Her slacks were nicely tailored to stylishly show off her rear. Becky's jet black hair was just the proper length to accent her smiling face.

While I hung her coat on the rack, I commented that she seemed to have made a full recovery from her injuries.

"I have," she replied. "The doctors told me I have you to thank for that. The accident fractured my pelvis, but there were no other injuries. The doctors said that if you had let my friends pull me out of the water and onto the dock the way they wanted to, my injuries would have been much worse. So I wanted to come and thank you for taking charge the way you did."

"That's very nice of you to say that, Becky. Would you like to sit down and talk a while? So how are you feeling?"

She talked as we walked into the living room. "Actually, the fracture has healed completely. There are no restrictions whatsoever on any activities. Right after getting out of the hospital, I was doing physical therapy three times a week since the accident. Now I'm only going once a week." She sat on the couch. I tended the wood burning in the fireplace and remained standing in front of it while we talked. 

"That seems like a lot of therapy. Were there complications?" I asked.

"No, no complications. The doctors and physical therapist encouraged me to take the aggressive therapy approach. They said the breaks would heal more completely and quicker if I did it. And there was a side benefit, too. I dropped eighteen pounds that I didn't need. The hospital hooked me up with a nutritionist who's put me on a diet and exercise plan that will help keep it off. Between the diet and exercise, I'm even better than when you first saw me."

I allowed my eyes to linger on her body. She noticed.

"So, do you like the new me?" she asked.

"Yes, indeed. If I were 25 years younger, I'd be begging you for a date," I answered honestly.

She looked at me for the longest time before speaking again.

"Why do you think you need to be 25 years younger, Lee?" She asked using my name for the first time.

"Well, Becky, after all, you're what 19 or 20?"

"Good guess. I just turned 20 last week."

"So you were born ..."

"October 25, 1986," she completed my sentence quickly. My question was instinctive; a cop's trick to see if someone was lying about her age. 

"I can't imagine why a beautiful 20-year-old woman would want to date a man old enough to be her father," I responded. 

"As I recall, you looked pretty good in the cutoffs you were wearing when you helped me this summer."

"Oh, well, thanks, but still ..."

She interrupted.

"Lee, do you remember how you checked me over to see how badly I was injured?"

I nodded.

"Well, even though I was hurting from the accident, none of your touches hurt me. You have gentle hands that I suspect reveal a kind and gentle heart."

"You're very poetic," I answered, genuinely moved by her words.

"Lee, do you think I'm attractive?" she asked bluntly.

For the first time since her injury months before, I saw her as a woman. And I knew that's how she wanted me to see her.

"Yes, Becky, you're very attractive."

She paused, thoughtfully, before continuing. 

"You know, Lee, I don't completely remember everything that happened after I was hurt. My friend Kim told me that she watched you check me over. She said you had plenty of chances to cop a cheap feel, but you didn't. She said you were all business and intent on helping me.

There was a long pause before she continued. "She told me something else. She said that I would be an idiot if I didn't find out for myself if your hands were as gentle when you were making love to a woman."

Her directness left me momentarily speechless. I must admit to being physically attracted to her, and it was clear she was not teasing me. Perhaps she could detect the growing desire in my eyes. 

She arose from the couch and walked to me, her eyes never leaving mine. The wood fire warmed the room. 

Becky wrapped her arms around my neck and kissed me briefly, but long enough that my cock started to harden. Clearly she felt it pressing against her. I looked deeply into her eyes. They revealed both sincerity and sexuality. But I was tentative, somewhat uneasy.

"Becky, how do you know I'm not married?" 

"I checked. Actually, a friend of mine told me you are married but that your wife took off to be with some young stud in California. Lee, I think you are more concerned about our age difference than your wife. Why does age even matter? Are you worried that somehow you might be taking advantage of me? I am old enough to make my own life's decisions. You didn't lure me here to try and seduce me. You didn't even know I was coming until I showed up at your door. You're not some sexual predator trying to entice some naïve teenager on the internet. You're a very attractive mature man with very gentle hands. I hope you find me sexy enough to want to touch me, excite me, and to ..." 

I could resist this beautiful young woman no longer. While she spoke, I wrapped my arms around her narrow waist and pulled her to me, so wanting our bodies to finish her sentence. 

We kissed again. It began as a gentle kiss that evolved into a mutual expression of passion. My reluctance dissolved into arousal as her lips and tongue worked their youthful magic on me. While my own tongue sought hers as a prelude to even more intimacy, my hands began to roam her body, dropping first to her ass. 

She murmured approval at my surrender to her overtures.

We continued kissing, probably for several minutes. Though the intensity of our physical need for each other was increasing, neither of us wanted to rush. I began to let my kisses find their way over her lips, chin, and neck. She rewarded my exploration with vocal encouragement that heightened my desire for her. I found a warm spot at the base of her neck at the shoulder. The instant she felt my lips there, she tightened her arms around my neck to pull me even closer. Then she moved astraddle my upper left thigh. I felt her begin to rub her still-clothed vulva against it. My continued oral attention to this hotspot only intensified her frottage. The sounds from deep inside her affirmed her pleasure and heightened my own. 

Unable and now unwilling to contain my own lust, I allowed my hands to seek the warm eroticism of her skin. I began to pull the tight sweater from beneath the waistband of her slacks. When my warm hands found the skin of her lower back and began to travel upward, she gasped audibly. She entangled her hands in my hair and forcibly pulled my mouth from her neck. Her mouth sought mine and upon finding it, she thrust her tongue deeply into me. I allowed my hands to continue their upward excursion to her shoulders, unimpeded by any brassiere. 

Her bare skin was a tactile aphrodisiac. Its allure sent the electricity of arousal to all parts of my body. 

We continued kissing with nearly violent sexuality. 

Any hesitation I might have had, any concerns about making love to this much younger woman, vaporized. 

She released her grip on my hair and broke our kiss so that I could slowly move my hands upward, along her now-upwardly outstretched arms, and pull the sweater off over her head. The slowness of my movement and the warmth and friction of my hands against her skin seemed to stimulate her even more. My hands moved slowly along her rib cage, lingering briefly to caress her sensitive underarms, then sliding up her arms as the sweater peeled away.

I stepped back slightly to get a better view of her breasts. Her eyes penetrated mine. She was unashamed of her nakedness. Indeed, she seemed to become further aroused at my focus on her breasts. 

She reached out and unbuttoned my shirt and pulled it out of my trousers. As she pushed it back and pulled it off, her naked breasts pushed against my bare chest. Her warmth was titillating. Her own body's movement to completely remove my shirt and let it drop to the floor caused her nipples to harden and lengthen when their tips moved across my chest. 

Again, for several minutes, we held each other close and kissed passionately. I allowed my kisses to again wander over her face, biting her lips and ear lobes gently, letting my tongue tip caress her most sensitive spots, letting my erotically suggestive whispers into her ears inflame her.

Now, with our upper torsos completely exposed to each other, I began to move my lips downward, eager to reach her breasts, to take their nipples between my lips and tenderly suck and pull them into my mouth. Her smallish breasts were incredibly sensitive. She rewarded my advances with sounds of lust, first softly, then louder. I felt the urgency in her fingers when they clawed my back. Oh, how I wanted this young woman!

Again, she moved to straddle my upper thigh and rub her vulva against it, more feverishly than before. Each grind of her pussy against me pressed her against my now very hard cock. 

Our sensual struggle became more animated, more intense. While my lips continued to kiss her breasts and tug on their nipples, my tongue encircled and tweaked them. My hands fell to the waistband of her slacks and deftly released their clasp. Without looking, Becky took my cue. She unfastened my belt, unhooked my trousers, and unzipped them. 

Together, eagerly, we removed the rest of each other's clothing so when we again stood upright, we were naked to each other. 

We once again came together, standing, kissing, running our hands over our lover's body. Her swollen, moist, shaven pussy again rode up and down on my upper thigh. So close were we that my fully-erect cock was captured between our bodies. 

With my left arm around her lower back, I stepped to one side, placed my right arm against the back of her shapely thighs, and swept her up into my arms. Her right arm around my neck, and she again kissed me deeply while I carried her to my bedroom. 

Once there, I laid her gently on the bed and stepped back to admire her beauty. It was truly amazing that this lovely young woman could find me sexually desirable. While I watched, she allowed her hands to travel over her own body, stimulating herself and me at the same time. Clearly she was unashamed of pleasuring herself. 

"Lee," she whispered, "Stroke yourself for me. Please." It was an enticing request, not a plea.

Without any hesitation I moved my right hand to my fully erect cock and began a slow motion masturbation. Becky's eyes focused on my cock's swollen redness, its girth, and its length. Her own fingers increased their lovemaking with her own pussy. Her pearly clit emerged from beneath its protective hood, noticeably. She gasped when her wet finger touched it. 

Both of us clearly enjoyed the intensifying urges of our masturbation, but neither of us wanted to orgasm.

Becky stopped her hands and lay quietly. She extended her arms outward to me, summoning me to her. I released my cock, now bobbing pendulously as I moved to her. I lay beside her, and once again we began kissing, first delicately but soon passionately, hungrily. Again, laying side by side, our hands roamed each other freely. 

I began kissing downward from her mouth, to the base of her neck, down to her breasts. My lips and tongue sought her nipples to pinch and pull them. My tongue traced circles around her areolas. She gasped audibly, frequently, at the sensory attack of my tongue. I began to let my kisses journey downward, slowly and patiently. 

When my chin just barely grazed her erect clit, she cried out. Then she spread her legs even further apart, entangled her fingers in my hair, and forced my mouth down hard on her pussy. My tongue shot out quickly and hard, thrusting in between her outer lips. Again she screamed and pulled my head in harder. I forced my head backward to relieve my assault and to allow my tongue to trace around her lips and find her clit. 

Using just the tip of my tongue, I moved it from side to side, each time barely grazing her sensory pearl. Her body spasmed with each flick. She released her grip on my head and stretched her arms out to her sides, grasping and pulling at the sheets. 

I moved my arms around her thighs to steady my head near her womanliness. I allowed my tongue to travel the length of her delicate slit, exploring as it went. I blew my warm breath across her clit, then tenderly touched it again, repeatedly, with my tongue's tip. Again Becky rewarded me with shrieks of pleasure. Her hips bucked against my face, and her shapely young legs tightened around my head as her body rose, fell, and shook in orgasm. 

I continued my oral lovemaking until she begged me to stop. She pushed my head away from between her legs and was gasping to regain her breath. 

After a few moments to allow her to recover, I kissed my way back up her luscious young body until our lips met and she tasted her own love juices. 

We lay together for several minutes, kissing, caressing, saying with our eyes and touches what words could never express.


Gentle Hands



Anita was up early. She didn't have to be at work until late afternoon, but she wanted to get some shopping done downtown. By getting an early start she wouldn't have to rush, and could take her time browsing and just generally relaxing. 

She was dressed very casually in jeans and a modest jersey. She could change later for work with the clothes she had packed into her shoulder bag. It wasn't much, and she had decided she didn't need to lug her large carry-all along today. 

She went to the window and looked out. The day was bright and sunny, and she spread the curtains wide and opened the window to let in the fresh air. The fountain in the courtyard below sparkled in the early sun, and patrons were sipping coffee and reading their morning papers at the outdoor tables of the Café au Coin. Madame Fleury, the owner of the café, was chatting with her customers as she passed among them with carafes of coffee and hot milk. She was a pleasant woman of about forty, energetic and outgoing, and she bustled from table to table, efficient but never missing the opportunity to flirt with men who appreciated her buxom figure. She was also Anita's landlady, who owned with her husband the trio of two-story apartment buildings that surrounded the courtyard. It was a quaint, old-world arrangement of buildings, forming a horseshoe around the cobblestone courtyard with its garden and central fountain. The café was at the corner of the courtyard and the street it opened out onto. Anita liked Thérèse Fleury, and she liked living in this neighborhood. It was more French than the rest of the city, and although a bit inconvenient to downtown, it possessed a sensual charm and unhurried approach to life that appealed to Anita.

Below in the courtyard an older man was watering flowers in pots that were placed around the low stone wall that enclosed the fountain. He was neatly dressed in trousers and a white shirt with a brown vest and a green beret, and sported a light gray beard, clipped short. Anita recognized Monsieur Gagnon, Madame Fleury's uncle, come from France after his retirement to live with his niece and her family in the apartment directly across the courtyard from Anita. Anita looked at him for a moment, then turned and went to her closet. She took from it a strapless yellow sundress with a pattern of small blue flowers, which she laid on her bed while she removed her jeans and jersey, stuffing them into her shoulder bag. She removed her brassiere and put on the dress. After examining herself briefly in the full-length mirror on her closet door, she left the apartment and headed down to the café. 

Emerging from the apartment building entrance at the back of the courtyard, she walked towards the fountain. 

"Good morning, Monsieur Gagnon!" she said brightly as she walked to him, flashing a brilliant smile. 

"Bonjour, Mademoiselle Anita," he replied, bowing slightly as she walked past him. When she had taken a few steps toward the street she stopped and half turned, raising her hands to shade her eyes as she gazed at the sky. 

"What a beautiful day!" she exclaimed. The morning sun was still low in the sky, and its light was shining directly into the courtyard. Anita was between the man and the sun, and her tousled blond hair shone like an aura of molten gold around her pretty face. The light was streaming through the thin dress, illuminating her in profile. With her arms lifted her breasts were clearly discernable in silhouette, large, firm globes that curved upward to delicate nipples pressing against the front of the dress. The illuminating sunlight revealed that she wasn't wearing anything under the dress, except for tight panties that clung low on her hips. Their decoration of small pink hearts was faintly visible. 

She turned to look at the man, her hands still lifted and shielding her eyes. "Aren't you enjoying this sun, Monsieur, after all the rain we've had? I just love it -- don't you?" 

It took him a moment to respond. "Ah, oui -- oui, Mademoiselle," he said finally, lifting his eyes to her face. He was smiling nervously, and water dripped onto his shoe from the watering can that was dangling from his right hand. 

"Well, time for breakfast," she said, turning back towards the café. "Have a wonderful day, Monsieur Gagnon!" she called over her shoulder as she walked away from him. His eyes followed her as she left him, graceful hips swaying slowly from side to side with her easy gait. Her panties, clinging tightly to her firm derrière, made a small triangle where the sun shone through between her thighs at the top of long, shapely legs. 

Most of the morning crowd had left when Anita sat down at a small table. Madam Fleury arrived almost immediately with the café au lait and croissant that Anita always ordered. 

"Bonjour, Anita!" she said, sitting down at the table. "It is early for you, no?" 

"Hi, Thérèse," said Anita. "Yes, I'm going downtown to do a little shopping this morning. It's such a nice day, I'll enjoy walking around." She crossed her legs and took a nibble of the croissant. 

Thérèse leaned to the side and peered around the table at Anita. "Oo la la, with a dress like that I think that maybe you will have a lot of attention when you walk," she said, wrinkling her nose and grinning playfully. "The men love such dresses." 

Anita laughed. "Well, that's okay with me. They can look all they want." 

"Oui, as long as they only look!" said Thérèse. "You be careful where you walk, chérie. You must take care, n'est-ce pas?" 

Anita looked down at her legs, which because of the shortness of her dress were exposed almost to the top of her thighs. She noticed out of the corner of her eye that Monsieur Gagnon was still watching her as he stood next to the fountain in the courtyard. 

"Oh yes, I'm careful," she said. "But I'm not terribly worried. Most men are like little boys -- they just like to play with you and with their toys." 

Thérèse threw her head back and laughed long and loud. "Ah oui, c'est vrai!" she cried. "So true -- my Daniel, he is never so happy as when he is playing with my toys!" She looked down at her ample breasts and squeezed them, lifting them high as she laughed. "... except when I am playing with his!" 

Anita almost choked on her coffee. It was a long time before the women stopped giggling. 

"Speaking of your husband," Anita said finally, "where is he? I almost never see him." 

"Eh bien, he is traveling, always traveling on business. It is not only you who never sees him." Thérèse looked off into the distance. 

"I'm sorry," said Anita. "It must be lonely for you." 

"Ah, oui," said Thérèse, "it is sometimes -- but one finds other ... entertainments." 

"Entertainments?" Anita asked. 

Thérèse looked wryly at her. "How does one say in English? Pas des questions, pas des mensonges...?" 

"Ah," said Anita. "Ask me no questions, I'll tell you no lies." 

"Exacte!" exclaimed Thérèse. "The world has many toys."

Anita smiled, sipping her coffee as she looked into the courtyard. "Your uncle seems well these days," she said. Thérèse rolled her eyes and sighed.

"Ah, mon oncle!" She said. "Oui, he is well enough, but he is a, how you say, a pest to live with sometimes."

"A pest?"

"Oui, a pest, he ... well, he doesn't seem to know that he's an old man now, and... Oh, don't misunderstand me, please, I don't mean to say that old men should not like the ladies any longer, it is natural for a man to desire women no matter his age, but he..." She trailed off, and then bent forward and spoke almost in a whisper. "Anita, tell me, has he ever acted ... impolite with you? Has he ever said anything méchant -- nasty -- to you?"

"No," Anita said. "He's always been very nice."

"And he has never tried to -- you know -- to touch you?"

Anita laughed. "No, Thérèse, never! Why would you think that? Has he done things like that before?"

Thérèse sat back and shrugged. "He likes to pinch," she said.

"Pinch?" Anita said. "Who?" Thérèse raised her eyebrows but said nothing. After a moment Anita's eyes opened wider. "You?" she asked.

Thérèse sighed. "Oui," she said, "especially when Daniel is not home. Oh, it is not so bad, he does not do it every day, and maybe it is not really a pinch that he does -- he just likes to, you know, touch, here..." -- she leaned to the side and patted her bottom -- "... and give a little squeeze. But like I say he is a pest. And he does other things too." She looked around and then leaned close to Anita again. "Sometimes," she whispered, "if I forget to close the door to my chambre à coucher, my bedroom, I see him peeking in at me at night when I am taking off my clothes!" She looked down at her large breasts and squeezed them again. "He likes these," she said. "He drools like a hungry dog when he sees them!"

Anita stifled a laugh. "Poor Thérèse," she said, "with a dirty old man in the house! Have you spoken to Daniel about it?"

"Non, I don't want to upset him. I can handle mon oncle myself without bothering Daniel. And I learn little tricks -- if he is being a pest it is easy to get rid of him for a little while. All I have to do is let him see something he likes -- maybe I have to pull up my skirt to adjust my stockings, something like that -- then off he goes to his bedroom where he stays for a long time. Even though he still likes the ladies, I think because he is older it takes him a long time now to finish liking them, if you know what I mean!"

Anita laughed. "Oh, Thérèse, you are bad!" Thérèse shrugged, but then turned serious.

"Listen, Anita," she said, "you must promise to tell me if he ever does anything méchant with you. I will not tolerate that."

Anita smiled. "Don't worry, Thérèse, I can handle Monsieur Gagnon. He won't be a pest with me."

"Ah, oui, I know," Thérèse said hurriedly, "you are a very smart girl, I know. After all, you study at the university, you learn to be a -- a psychic. You have been there for many years, no?" 

"A psychologist," corrected Anita, smiling. "Yes, I'm in graduate school now, and it does seem that I've been there forever." 

"Your classes begin again soon, n'est-ce pas? The summer is almost over." 

"Yes, I'll be leaving my summer job soon, after I visit my family in the country this weekend." 

"Ah oui, ah oui. Tell me Anita, your summer job? -- you never told me what you do." 

Anita looked down into her coffee cup as she drained it, then stood up. She regarded Thérèse with a playful smile. 

"'Ask me no questions...'" she said, her voice trailing off. Thérèse looked at her blankly for a moment, then burst into laughter once again. 

"Ah oui, touché, touché," she said with a sigh. "We are both Mesdames Mystérieuses, eh?" 

They embraced and kissed cheeks. "Yes," said Anita softly, "mysterious ladies indeed." Taking up her shoulder bag she started up the street towards the bus stop. Walking toward the boulevard she became aware of Monsieur Gagnon, who was hurrying to catch up with her.

"Bonjour, Mademoiselle," he said at bit breathlessly. "You are taking the bus, no?"

"Why, yes, I am," she said. "Are we going to be travelling together, then?"

"Ah no," he replied, "I am just going to the librarie, the book store at the next corner."

"I see," she said. "Well, that doesn't surprise me, since it is well known that you are quite the reader, Monsieur Gagnon, a true intellectual." She held his arm affectionately as they walked together, her breast pressing against him.

"Ah, well," he said, blushing. "Please," he said, "you must call me Henri."

"Thank you," she said, "I shall. After all, we are neighbors -- I see you almost every day. If we lived in France I suppose it would be time for us to say 'tu'!"

"Oui, c'est vrai," he said. He was beaming now. "Tell me, Mademoiselle, is it true that you are returning to school soon? My niece has said something about that to me."

"Yes, that's true, in about two weeks," she said as the bus arrived at the stop.

"So," he said slowly, "I suppose that you will be going off to live at the university, then?"

"No, I'm not going to move," she said. "I like living across the courtyard from Thérèse and Daniel -- and from you, too, of course! It's pleasant being able to wave to you in your study from my bedroom." She smiled sweetly, and kissed him on both cheeks. "I expect that you'll be seeing a lot more of me, Henri." She turned and began to ascend the steps into the bus. 

"I am glad you are not going away," he said. 

She turned and smiled as she waved good-bye to him over her shoulder. He watched her as she climbed the steps in her short sundress until the door closed and the bus pulled away from the curb. Then he continued on his way, smiling, with a spring in his step. 

* * * * * 

Gentle Hands owed its great success to location, location, location. It was set in a small side street just around the corner from Sex d'Argent, one of the city's most notorious strip-clubs, known for its extraordinarily beautiful girls and their seductive dances. Patrons who left the Sex d'Argent after hours of being excited and teased by those girls were often led by their unsatisfied lust around the corner, where Gentle Hands awaited to relieve their frustrations, or to excite them further. 

For Gentle Hands was a massage parlor, and for men who had just been driven to near madness by sexual tease, its allure was irresistible. Here they were assured that their tormented erections would receive tender loving care. The two establishments complemented each other nicely -- men out for a night of striptease were often happy to find by chance a place around the corner where girls were waiting to please them, while other men used Sex d'Argent solely to become aroused and primed for a visit to Gentle Hands. 

Anita had been working here during her summer break from university. She had started as a dancer at Sex d'Argent, and so had developed deep insights into the erotic obsessions of men, especially the sexually frustrated men who frequented the club. François, who owned both Sex d'Argent and Gentle Hands, was quick to recognize her talents, and offered her an open-ended job at the massage parlor -- she had a room permanently reserved to her, and was free to work according to her own schedule as she saw fit. He was rewarded with a growing clientele of men who became addicted to her -- they came ever more frequently to the club, and then to Gentle Hands afterwards, with a growing sexual hunger that tormented them but was never satisfied. Sex d'Argent and Gentle Hands had them, quite literally, coming and going. 

Anita never permitted these men to have intercourse with her, although she would often lead them on in thinking they might. Her job was to create needs and desires for what was always held just out of reach. They received exquisite pleasures from her hands, and sometimes her lips and tongue -- but always done in such a way that it somehow increased their need for more. Even after explosive orgasms, when they were at home in bed alone or with their sleeping wives, they would soon be experiencing that insistent nagging between their legs, a need for more of the tantalizing tease Anita had subjected them to. 

After spending the morning and better part of the afternoon shopping, Anita arrived at Gentle Hands in late afternoon. Most of the activity at Sex d'Argent and the parlor took place at night, of course, but those who sought out Anita would often arrive shortly after they left work. In all likelihood they would have been thinking about her all day as they fondled themselves under their desks, living for the moment when they could hurry to Gentle Hands to find her, or, failing in this, go into Sex d'Argent to work up their excitement to fever pitch before trying once again to get time with her. Actually, Anita purposely did not stick to any fixed schedule -- she preferred to keep her customers off-balance and frequently disappointed. This added to the urgency of the unsatisfied lust they experienced when they watched the stripteases and to the intensity of their orgasms under her gentle touch if they were ever lucky enough to get time with her -- or of their frustration if she decided she was in the mood to deny them. 

Entering through a backdoor, she walked down the corridor of rooms where most of the girls worked and let Erica, the busty receptionist, know that she was in and would be ready for clients in five minutes. Then she climbed the narrow staircase that led to her suite of two rooms. She thought about leaving on the sundress she had been wearing all day, since it had drawn a considerable amount of attention from the horny teenagers and dirty old men who hung around at the underground mall where she had gone shopping. But she decided instead to change into a more "professional" outfit -- pulling her hair back into an efficient ponytail, she put on a white nurse's smock that extended down her thighs about a third of the way to her knees, and white stockings held up by a white garter belt. Because of the shortness of her skirt the tops of her stockings were exposed, and the top four buttons of the smock were open. She wore no brassiere, so her ample cleavage beckoned enticingly. 

The room Anita used to entertain her customers was not at all sterile, as is often the case in such establishments. Aside from the professional massage table in the center, it was warm and intimate. The lighting was indirect, from a pair of floor lamps, and several oriental throw rugs were scattered about the wooden floor. There was a table and a couch against one wall, and on the opposite side of the room two comfortable chairs were arranged for easy conversation, with a small coffee table between them. Anita always offered her guests a glass of wine as they chatted, especially at the start of a first visit. This relaxed them, and gave her a chance to get to know them and what they needed from her. It didn't take her long to understand a man's sexual desires, and what his erotic triggers were. She was very good at reading body language, and between the lines of conversation. 

After about ten minutes a chime rang indicating that Erica was sending a customer up, a new client. He would have already paid the base rate for a straight massage to Erica -- for any "extras" he would have to tip Anita directly. She went into the back room to wait for him. This was always part of her routine: she wanted a man to sit in her cozy room waiting for her, letting his anticipation build. Then, when she greeted him, she wanted him to be seated -- he would be forced to look up at her, at her voluptuous body and provocative outfit; at the same time, her position above him would subtly underscore the fact that she was the one in control. 

When she heard the man enter the other room, she called to him to sit down, that she'd be with him in a moment. After about two minutes she went in to greet him. He started to rise, but she told him not to get up and went over to introduce herself. Smiling brightly, she leaned over to pour wine for the two of them, giving him an enticing view between her breasts in the process, then sat down to chat. He was Will, she learned -- or that at least was the name he gave. He appeared to be about forty, of average build and height, dressed in a business suit, though without his tie -- and was distinctly nervous to be there talking with her. But she managed to put him at his ease, smiling warmly at him, and encouraging him to relax and sip his wine. She pretended to drink along with him, but in fact took very little. Finally she addressed business. 

"So, Will, have you just been next door?" she asked, running a fingertip around the lip of her wineglass. He glanced at her briefly, then looked down somewhat guiltily, blushing slightly. 

"Uh, yeah, I was there for a little while," he stammered. "I saw a card on the table for -- here." There were cards advertising Gentle Hands on each table in Sex d'Argent. 




Gentle Hands



"So now you need a little relaxation, right?" Anita said brightly, putting her glass down on the coffee table. "A nice massage to work out the kinks after a long day at work?" 

"Uh, yes, that would be real nice," he said a little uncertainly. He was obviously inexperienced in what to expect. 

"Good," she said, standing up. "I'm going into the other room to get my oils -- while I'm gone you can get undressed, and then lie down on the table. You can cover yourself up, if you like," she said, indicating a towel that was lying on the table. 

She went next door, returning in about a minute with a bottle of scented oil. Will had undressed as instructed, and was lying face down on the table, with the towel covering the lower part of this body. 

"OK, she said briskly, "let's see what we can do about those tight muscles." Starting at his shoulders, she began to work his neck muscles and deltoids with strong, deft hands. Anita was actually a skilled massage therapist, having taken courses in the art, and her customers were often surprised at how relaxing and pleasurable sessions with her were, even without the "extras" -- although it was those extras that kept them coming back, time after time. 

After thoroughly working Will's back and arms, down the backs of his legs from his buttocks (still covered) down his thighs and calves to his feet, she had him turn over and worked on his pectorals. Finally, she went to the foot of the table and kneaded the balls of his feet and each of his toes. When she had finished with this, she laid her hands gently on his shins and slowly moved up the front of his legs. She noticed that the towel had started to lift slightly over his groin, although she had not spent any time in that area. Her hands continued to move upwards, finally coming to rest at the top of his thighs, with her fingertips extending a fraction of an inch under the towel. 

"There," she said, "all done. Did you enjoy that?" Her hands remained resting on his legs. 

"Oh, yes," he replied. "That felt really nice." 

Anita moistened her lips and looked into his eyes. "Is there anything else you'd like me to do for you," she asked softly. Her full lips were parted slightly, and her fingertips remained just under the towel, idly moving from side to side. 

His pulse began to quicken. "Yes," he stammered, "I -- yes, please..." 

Anita smiled seductively down at him, and began to pull the towel lower, very slowly, pulling the soft fabric down along the bulge in his groin that was now tenting upwards. 

"Let's have a look at this, shall we?" she said, pulling the towel aside to reveal his straining erection. His penis was of average size, but was lengthening steadily and already projecting upward at a forty-five degree angle. She studied it for a moment, noting the light pink color of its swollen head, and the somewhat darker shade of the shaft. It was circumcised and strongly veined, and was visibly throbbing as it continued to grow under her gaze: each beat of his heart caused it to bob slightly, moving up and down a fraction of an inch, tremulous. His scrotum was slightly wrinkled, enclosing two large testicles, but was becoming smoother as it tightened with his mounting excitement. The pubic hair was fine and light brown, and covered his scrotum and the base of his penis, forming a feathery circle from which his smooth, hardening phallus emerged. The glans was now thoroughly engorged and glistening. 

She pursed her lips into an "O" and frowned, while she ran her fingertips gently up along his inner thighs. 

"Oh my!" she said, looking up and down the length of his erection. "Those girls next door really teased you, didn't they? They've gotten you so excited! I'll bet they made you want to fuck them real bad, didn't they? Those nasty girls! Getting your cock so excited and hard when you couldn't do anything about it -- so frustrating..." Her hand was now gently fondling his testicles. "Is that why you've come to me?" she asked softly. "Would you like me to continue where they left off?" A single finger traced a tantalizing line up the underside of his stiff penis. "Do you like it when a girl teases your cock?" 

"Y-yes ... ohhhh." Will was breathing harder now, almost panting, and his heart was starting to race. He wanted her to touch him so badly. 

"This will cost you more, you know," she said gently, with a little pout. Her finger continued to move along his shaft, light as a feather. "If you're good to me, I'll be very good to you..." 

He swallowed and licked his dry lips. "Yes, I know," he said, looking towards the chair where his pants lay folded. Anita smiled and went over to the chair and retrieved his wallet from his pants. Reaching into it she withdrew a fifty dollar bill; she paused then took out a second fifty. She looked over to him and raised her eyebrows in a question -- he swallowed again, and nodded. Placing the two fifties on the coffee table, Anita smiled and moved slowly back to him. Her hands reached up to loosen the ponytail, and her golden hair cascaded over her shoulders. She undid another button on her smock, so that her breasts were now almost completely exposed. 

"Thank you," she said. "Now I want to show you how grateful I am..." 

Placing her hand under Will's quivering penis, she cradled it gently in her palm while the single finger resumed its exploration of the underside of the rigid shaft. 

"Ohhh, you need this so much, don't you?" she purred. "You need someone to be nice to your big hard cock, someone to touch you -- like this..." Fingertips enclosed his shaft and lightly drew up over the head, making tantalizingly brief contact with his most sensitive areas. He moaned loudly and raised his hips in a vain attempt to prolong contact with her hand. 

Anita smiled at his obvious need. She intended to make it much worse. 

Reaching down between his legs she slowly drew her fingers up to his scrotum, gently scratching in slow circles all around his testicles. While she manipulated his balls with four fingertips, her thumb reached up and lightly flicked the cleft below the head from side to side. She moved her hand slowly up and down, the pads of her fingers pleasuring several of his most sensitive areas simultaneously. Continuing to tease his balls with her fingernails, she brought her other hand into play, delicately feathering the underside of his erection along its entire length, very lightly, at a maddeningly slow pace. She kept her touch light, just enough to tease him along and make him desperately need more. His urgent whimpering told her she was succeeding in that. 

"Mmmmm, we're going to have such a nice time together," she whispered. "Does this feel good? Do you like what I'm doing to your big, warm cock? I love how it feels in my hands, and I love doing this to you -- I'm going to give you so much pleasure, and it's going to last for a long, long time. But first, we have to make you really need it..." 

What followed was an hour of erotic torment that drove him nearly mad. Anita's special talent was to probe and test a man's genitals to determine his most sensitive areas of pleasure, and then to single-mindedly harry and worry him in those places, but in such a tantalizing way that it was always just short of what he needed for release. With her hands, and her lips and tongue, she coaxed and toyed and teased, never giving his enflamed cock a moment's respite. Her tongue flicked lightly and incessantly in rapid little licks on his sweet pleasure spots, taunting him, showing him she knew just where he was most vulnerable, showing him that she could, if she chose, send him into a delirious orgasm with just a single swirl of her tongue -- which, of course, she never did. Whenever she sensed that he was reaching the helpless point of no return she would stop abruptly, and watch dispassionately as his hips bucked and he groaned in dismay at the sudden removal of pleasure. She would pout and coo sympathetically at his frustration, while she gently and soothingly caressed him, inches from his throbbing penis. Then, when his erection had almost completely subsided, the maddening cycle would begin again -- cock-teasing to the very brink of orgasm, then cruel withdrawal, repeated over and over again. She held him in an agony of sexual frustration, deaf to his pleading and whimpering. She was relentless and totally without mercy. 

It was very satisfying to Anita to use the need for pleasure to make men suffer like this. She found it fascinating that something as exquisite as sexual pleasure could be used to cause such agonizing distress. She didn't dislike these men; she just enjoyed teasing and tormenting them, it was as simple as that. It was true that she thought about these men and how they reacted to what she did to them in the context of her psychological studies at school, the courses she'd taken on physical and emotional dependence, in particular. But her interest in psychology was not what caused her to take such enjoyment in manipulating men's sexual desires; if anything, it was the other way around. She had always enjoyed using her sexuality to get men excited and to tease them -- what was it about men, some men at any rate, that led them to crave this, and even pay money to have it done to them? That was something worth studying, she felt; and who knows? -- maybe she'd learn something that she could use to increase their sexual need still more, something that might drive them closer to erotic madness. She knew that these men came to her because they craved what she did to them -- but if she could make them truly addicted, and unable to do without her, that would be even better. Better for business, of course, but also better because the distress and agony caused by her little games of tease and denial would be more excruciatingly intense. And that excited her. 

After nearly an hour of exquisite sexual tease, Anita decided that is was time to finish him off, not because she wanted to have mercy on him, but because his time was up. She reached for the bottle of massage oil and poured a small pool of it into the palm of her right hand, then rubbed her hands together to make them both slippery. Will's cock was by now deep purple in color, and painfully engorged and rigid. Anita grasped it in her left hand and drew slowly down from the head to the base in one squeezing stroke. Holding it immobile and stretched taut, she placed the palm of her right hand flat against the glistening bulbous head and began to rub her palm in circles all over the sensitive surface of the glans. The almost unbearable intensity of sensation that this produced caused Will to curl his toes and shiver. When he was at the point of crying out in real distress, her hand slid down from the head to grasp the shaft just below. She held it still for a moment, allowing him relief from the over-stimulation she had just inflicted on him. Then slowly, very slowly, she began to twist her hand back and forth, rotating her grasp on his penis just below the head, simultaneously massaging the area of sweet pleasure below the cleft, and the rim of the glans she had just been torturing. That torment had been deliberate, for it had enflamed every nerve in his genitals, and his entire body was now raging in response to the motion of her hand, every stroke and twist driving his throbbing cock mad with mounting pleasure, as she slowly and irresistibly masturbated him to an explosive climax. He cried out and writhed in ecstasy and relief as his swollen prick erupted in huge ejaculations that sent his sperm shooting three feet into the air. As the penis bucked and spurted, Anita pumped and stroked it with both hands, lavishing on it the voluptuous erotic pleasure it had been denied for the past hour. His semen flowed copiously down his cock and over her hands, and she used it as additional lubrication while she skillfully milked him, timing her squeezes and strokes to match the rhythm of his spasms. When his exhausted penis had finally completed its throes, and his cries had subsided into soft whimpers, Anita gently cleaned him with a soft cloth she had readied for the purpose. She smiled to herself as she tended to him; this, she knew, would be a repeat customer.

* * * * * 

It was about eleven o'clock when Anita arrived home that night. The deserted courtyard was quiet as she crossed through it to the entrance to her building. Light shone from a single window in the façade across from her apartment -- the Fleurys were still up, evidently. 

When she entered her apartment she tossed her shoulder bag onto a chair to be dealt with in the morning. Tonight she just wanted to shower and go to bed. She stood in front of her mirror for a half a minute, appraising the sundress that she had put on again before leaving Gentle Hands. Perhaps I should wear this at work sometime, she thought. Fresh, virginal -- that might strike a chord with her clientele. Maybe, we'll see. 

Looking to the side she noticed that the curtains on the window facing the courtyard remained open from the morning. She walked to the window and looked out into the night. The light in the Fleury apartment had gone out, and the courtyard was lit now only by moonlight. As she gazed absently into the darkness, she reached under her dress to remove her panties, lowering them to her feet and kicking them to the side. The dress was secured at the top by two thin straps which tied at the shoulder. She untied each of these, and the dress would have fallen completely off had the bodice not been stopped by the swell of her breasts. She yawned and stretched, then stood for a few moments with one hand idly massaging the back of her neck while the other caressed a hip. The dress began to slip further down, and she reached up to close the curtains. Fifteen minutes later, after a quick shower, she was in bed. 

* * * * * 

The next day was another fine one, and she was up early, busying herself for the holiday with her family in the country. It was to be at the rather large rustic compound belonging to her Uncle Jack. She was looking forward to seeing her parents and her sister Michelle; Jack was another matter, but she could put up with him for a couple of days. 

When she was ready to leave she went to the open window and looked out. Across the courtyard through the window opposite hers she saw Monsieur Gagnon reading in his study. His window was open, too, and she called out to him. 

"Bonjour, Henri!" she cried, waving to him. "Ça va?" 

He hurried to the window and leaned out. 

"Bonjour, Mademoiselle Anita!" he replied. "Oui, ça va bien."

"I'm leaving to visit my family in a moment. Would you like to have coffee with me before I catch the bus?"

"Oui, d'accord!" he responded avidly, and disappeared. 

Anita closed the window and curtains, then gathered up her travel bags and headed down to the café. Monsieur Gagnon was there waiting for her. She smiled and shook his hand in greeting, then sat down at a table. When Thérèse came out to serve the new customers, she stopped short, eyeing first her uncle and then Anita. Anita winked at her.

"Bonjour, Madame," she said playfully, "du café au lait, s'il vous plait!" She winked again. Thérèse shrugged, then poured the coffee and returned to the café.

"So, tell me, Henri," Anita said, "how do you spend your time these days? Are you enjoying your retirement?"

"Ah, oui, very much. There is much I find to do. I help Thérèse and Daniel, I read and go for walks, and of course I love the opera."

"Opera!" Anita said. "I didn't know that. Do you go often?"

"As often as I can, although it has become expensive -- not so easy on my pension." He sipped his coffee, warming to their conversation. "Oui, but still I do manage to go quite a lot. One simply needs to buy the cheap tickets, with the seats far up in the back. It is like the Comédie-Française in Paris, the stage is like a tiny garden far down below."

"That's too bad," said Anita. "I mean, you hear the music and the singing, naturally, but it would be nice to be able to see the people and the costumes up close, wouldn't it?"

"Oh, but I can!" he replied. "I have my jumelles de théâtre, how do you say, my opera glasses. They make things look big, much closer. They work very well."

"Oh, yes, the little binoculars," Anita said. "I think I've seen you with them, looking at the birds in the trees and in the courtyard."

"Oui, my little oiseaux! And the stars and the moon, I can see them from the window of my study, merveilleux!"

"Yes," said Anita, smiling. "I see."

They were silent for a few moments, then Anita sighed. "Oh, I am so looking forward to this vacation," she said. "Life in the city can be such a bother."

"Yes?" said Monsieur Gagnon.

"Yes. I'm sure you realize how rude some men can be when a girl is just trying to pick out something to wear on vacation. Swimwear, for example. You put on a cute bikini and step out to use the large three-pane mirrors, and before you know it there's a man staring at you! I mean, why would a man be in a boutique like that in the first place?"

Monsieur Gagnon cleared his throat. "Well, I..."

"Oh, I know," Anita interrupted, "men are like that, younger men anyway. They think they're in a candy store, looking around and picking out something tasty! I suppose some girls think that's flattering, but after a while it can get to be a bit much, don't you think?"

"O-oui, of course," Monsieur Gagnon stammered. "Eh bien, uh, I suppose that when some men see a, uh, well, a girl as attractive as you, they just, uh..."

"I mean, just imagine -- there I am in a teeny little bathing suit that's even smaller than my underwear, for goodness sake, and a man is looking at me! Can you imagine that?"

Monsieur Gagnon could imagine that; he was trying very hard to imagine that.

"You know what it is, Henri? Young guys just haven't lived long enough realize that you can't have everything you want. You're a man of the world, Henri, so you understand that; you know that there are some things you can never have, no matter how badly you want them. But these younger boys just don't know that yet. They see a girl who's undressed and right away they want -- well, I'm sure you know what they want, I don't have to tell you." She sipped her coffee and looked off into space, shaking her head. "No wonder some girls prefer older men," she said absently. She yawned and stretched, her breasts expanding her tight t-shirt. She wasn't wearing a brassiere, and Monsieur Gagnon tried not to stare, but without success. She glanced at him, then took one of his hands in hers. "Henri," she said, "I hadn't noticed what graceful hands you have! And so soft." His hands were in fact very delicate, soft and white with long, slender fingers. She ran her fingertips over the back of his hand and gently pulled along each of his fingers to their tips, then turned it over and caressed his palm with her fingernails. "Do you play the piano, Henri? You have an artist's hands." Monsieur Gagnon shivered.

"Well," she said, releasing his hand, "I'd best be going. The bus should be arriving at any minute now." She stood and took up her travel bags, and then turned back to him. She put her hand on his knee. "Thank you for listening to me, Henri. It was so nice of you to sit through my silly rant!" He smiled weakly as she bent down to kiss his cheek. "See you soon," she said.

Thérèse emerged as Anita started walking down the street. "I'm off!" she announced. "I should be back in a couple of days." 

"Bonnes vacances, chérie," Madame Fleury called, as Anita headed for the bus that would take her to the railway station.

* * * * * 

Anita's Uncle Jack was married to her mother's younger sister Abigail. No one could understand how they had wound up together as a couple, since they were as different as night and day. Abigail was small and delicate, and very reserved. Jack, on the other hand, was outgoing and aggressive. He was a large man, with a substantial belly, which provoked speculation as to just how Abigail was able to survive in his bed. Anita and her older sister Michelle often giggled together as girls, wondering why Aunt Abby wasn't pressed flat as a pancake, or torn apart when Jack snorted and rooted around on top of her. They hadn't had children, and it was well known that Jack had an eye for the ladies, especially the younger ones. So, Anita and Michelle had decided early on, there probably wasn't much activity to speak of in Uncle Jack and Aunt Abby's bed; in other words, Jack didn't get much at home, and probably found his pleasures elsewhere. 




Gentle Hands



This holiday was to be a family reunion at a woods camp that Jack owned, on the edge of a Provincial Park. It consisted of a large log house and two guest outbuildings, surrounding by fifty acres of woods. Jack had bought it as a vacation home, and to entertain business associates, at least those who enjoyed fishing as much as he did. 

Anita was met at the railway station by Michelle. They had been very close as girls, and the half-hour ride to the camp gave them an opportunity to catch up, and talk about old times. 

"So, who's arrived so far?" Anita asked. 

"Mom and Dad are there," said Michelle, "and the cousins. Oh, and Auntie Abby too, of course." 

"How about Jack?" 

"Oh, he won't be there until tomorrow. He was delayed by some business in the city." 

"Right," said Anita sardonically, "business. Some business between a slut's legs, I bet!" 

"Yeah, I wouldn't be surprised," Michelle laughed. "Poor Auntie Abby, I don't think she gets any attention from that jerk. I feel bad for her." 

"I know," said Anita, "me too. God knows why she's stayed with him for so long. Roof over her head, I suppose. Well, it's her life. Guess she's found some way to deal with it. Probably involving batteries." 

Michelle made a face. "You're bad, Anita! Not everyone's a sex fiend like you!" 

Anita laughed. "Well, I don't think she's getting any action from him. He probably saves his stuff for sweet young things. He always was a dirty old man ... and we should know!" 

Michelle nodded. "Remember how he used to come into our room at night when we came here, when we were kids? That used to scare the shit out of me! We probably should've told Mom about it." 

"Oh, I don't know," Anita said, yawning. "It wasn't such a big deal. He was too chicken-shit to really do anything. Telling Mom would've just blown the whole family apart. And we wouldn't have been able to come out here for vacations anymore!" 

"Jesus, Anita, you really are terrible! Is that all it meant to you? That pig had his eyes all over you before you were even a teenager! God!" 

Anita shrugged. "He never got what he really wanted, not enough anyway. I made sure of that." 

"Yeah," said Michelle, "I remember those little games you used to play. He never got anywhere with me because I'd scrunch up in a ball under the covers and pretend I was asleep whenever we heard him coming -- no fun at all. But you! God, the way you'd get yourself posed 'in your sleep', with the covers off and wearing nothing but panties, your arms thrown back and your little tits sticking up, sucking your thumb -- sucking your thumb, for God's sake! I could see him by the night-light, tip-toeing over to you, looking you up and down while he stood over you, all heavy breathing. Did you know he was doing that?" 

"Of course I knew," Anita laughed. "That was the whole point. To get him hot and bothered when he couldn't do anything about it." 

Michelle sighed. "Did you ever think, Anita, that maybe you made things worse for Auntie Abby by getting him excited like that? That maybe his lust for you caused him to ignore her?" 

Anita frowned and shook her head. "No, he was a pig long before we came along. I don't take responsibility for how he treated Aunt Abigail, or for his drooling over little girls. I just made sure he was punished for it, that's all. Besides," she went on, "I wouldn't be surprised if Aunty Abby got more action when we were around than when we weren't -- nothing like a couple of sexy little lolitas to get him going!" 

Michelle shook her head and laughed. "Same old Anita," she said. "Well, let's enjoy this weekend, anyway. All that's in the past now, right?" 

Anita smiled at looked out her window. "Sure," she said. "Maybe." 

* * * * * 

The next day Anita and Michelle decided to take some wine down to the stream and sunbathe while their cousins were off antiquing. A path led from the house through the woods to a secluded, grassy clearing on the banks of a rushing brook, where their Uncle Jack liked to go trout-fishing. It was a sunny area, ideal for picnicking or just sun-bathing. 

The girls spread a large blanket on the grass and lay down next to each other and chatted. The weather was warm, and they luxuriated in the bright sunshine. Michelle had worn her bathing suit, and she removed the top to work on her "lineless" tan. Anita had on a light Indian-print cotton skirt that came down almost to her ankles, and a white spaghetti-strap t-shirt. She was lying on her stomach and had pulled the skirt up over her bottom, exposing her bikini panties and the backs of her legs to the sun as she and her sister talked and laughed together. 

After about a half hour they heard a voice calling to them as someone came down the path. 

"Well, here comes Jack," Michelle groaned. "Guess the peace and quiet was too good to last." She reached for her bikini top and got it on just as Jack appeared in the clearing, but not before he got an eyeful of her tanned, naked breasts. 

"How're my favorite nieces," he said, rubbing his hands together as he came toward them. "Don't worry about getting yourself decent. After all, we're all just family here!" 

Michelle didn't say anything and looked at him rather sourly, but Anita jumped up and ran to greet him, clapping her hands in delight. 

"Hi, Uncle Jack!" she said brightly, giving him a hug and pressing her breasts against him. "Gee, it's so good to see you after so long!" She stood on tiptoes and gave him a kiss on the cheek, while Michelle stared in disbelief, shaking her head. 

Anita put her arm around his waist, holding him close against her, and led him to the blanket. He beamed at her as they walked, and reached down to give a lingering pat on her bottom. She just grinned at him and wrinkled her nose. 

"Come have some wine with us, Jack," she said. "We were just talking about you!" 

"All good, I hope," he said, easing himself down onto one end of the blanket. 

"Of course!" Anita chirped. "We were just wondering when you were going to finally come and see us. It's great being out here at the camp and all, but it's no fun without naughty Uncle Jack!" 

Jack beamed with pleasure, basking in the attention he was getting from Anita. Michelle just rolled her eyes and looked away. 

They chatted for a while about what each of them had been up to since they last saw each other, which had actually been a couple of years. Jack was stretched out and reclining on his elbow on one side of the blanket, while the girls sat at the other end. Anita had pulled her knees up and was resting her chin on them, with her arms clasping her legs as she listened to Jack. The hem of her skirt was just below her knees and hung loosely to the sides, giving Jack a clear view under her skirt of the bottom of her thighs, all the way from her bent knees down to where white panties peeked out from under her bottom. After a while she shifted her position, leaving her right knee up, but extending her left leg out to the side. The hem of her skirt now formed a triangular window, clearly exposing her sheer bikini panties, stretched tightly across her crotch as she sat with her legs apart. She seemed not to notice as she chatted away, but Jack's face was flushed and his eyes were glued between her legs as he unconsciously licked his lips. 

Jack finally managed to pull his eyes away from Anita's crotch, and said hoarsely, "Ah, so, Anita, I hear you've been working in a massage parlor. Great job for a pretty girl like you!" 

Anita's eyes opened a bit wider. "Oh!" she said. "Well, yes, it's just a summer job. I'm working as a massage therapist. But I have to quit soon since school is starting up again." 

"Therapist," he said hesitantly. "So you just give -- massages?" 

"Yes," she replied, "therapeutic massages. I took a course and I have a license and everything! I like helping people. Getting out muscle kinks and aches and pains and all that." 

Jack thought for a moment, then sat up and stretched. 

"Well," he said, "how would you feel about giving your old Uncle Jack a sample? My back's been hurting lately -- tight muscles from work stress and all." 

Anita regarded him with a level stare for a few moments. Then she said brightly, "Well, sure, Uncle Jack! Why not? I'd be glad to!" She jumped up and looked down at him. "So, just take off your shirt and get comfortable face down on the blanket." 

Michelle got up and replaced her bottle of suntan lotion in her tote bag. "Well," she said, "I think I'll head back up to the house. Guess I'll see you at dinner later." 

"Hold on a sec, Mickey," Anita said. She ran up to her sister and whispered something in her ear, while Jack removed his Hawaiian shirt and grunted back down onto the blanket. Michelle then turned and disappeared up the path to the main house. 

Anita returned to the blanket and looked down at Jack. He was wearing blue boxer-style swim trunks, and he had arranged himself on the blanket with his elbows projecting to the sides, and his head turned with a cheek resting on the backs of his hands. His legs were fairly muscular and pale, although the rest of him was out of shape and plump. His back was very hairy. 

"OK," said Anita as she stepped onto the blanket, kneeling on either side of him as she straddled his back, preparing to go to work. "Let's see what we can do about poor old Uncle Jack. Gee, you're furry!" she giggled. 

She started as she usually did, working on the muscles of his neck and arms, then working down his back on either side of his spine. As she began to manipulate the lateral muscles along his sides she lowered herself until she was sitting on him, her legs straddling his rump. She moved lower to knead his buttocks through his bathing suit, moving to the side and tightly straddling one of his legs as she worked. She then shifted to the other side, similarly mounting the other leg. He could feel the warmth between her legs as she straddled him, and he had to shift his weight a bit to accommodate the erection that was starting to press against the blanket under him. 

Eventually she worked her way down to his feet, and she raised herself up onto her knees, kneeling as she massaged the muscles of his legs. She worked on each leg separately, moving upwards from his feet and massaging vigorously with her fingertips until she reached the top of a thigh. She had gotten him to spread his legs a bit more, and as she continued to work the muscles on the back and side of his leg with one hand, the fingers of the other reached just under his swimsuit and lightly brushed up and down along his inner thigh, millimeters from his netting-encased testicles. He shifted his position again, as his erection grew larger. 

"OK," Anita said finally, "all done on this side. Now flip yourself over." 

Jack complied, trying surreptitiously to smooth out the bulge at his crotch as he lay back down on his back. He was not very successful in this, and his erection was obvious, struggling to tent upwards against the constraints of the netting inside his trunks. Anita paid it no notice as she kneeled next to him, waiting for him to adjust himself. 

"Whew!" she said, "it sure is hot today! You don't mind if I take some of this stuff off, do you Uncle Jack? After all, we're family!" 

She stood up and proceeded to detach the skirt from around her waist, then crossed her arms and pulled the t-shirt up over her head. Jack stared open mouthed as she stood over him in only her tight cotton panties and lacy half-bra. The little bikini briefs were cut very low and clearly showed the contours of what lay beneath, and the brassiere just barely managed to hold her full breasts, covering only their lower halves while the rest swelled voluptuously above. 

"There!" she said happily, "that's much better! Now let's get back to work on you..." 

She continued massaging his legs, this time the muscles on the tops of his thighs. As she moved up and down from his knees to his hips she completely ignored the bulge between his legs, which was becoming increasingly obvious. After this, she stood up and climbed over him again, straddling his large belly while she leaned forward and massaged the back of his neck and his forehead. He stared at her breasts, which bobbled right in front of his face as she vigorously kneaded his shoulders and deltoids. She didn't look at him while she did this, focusing instead on the work of her hands, the tip of her tongue stuck at the corner of her mouth while she exerted herself with a little frown of concentration. Then she had him spread his arms out to the side, and proceeded to run her hands along them, from his wrists to his shoulders and back again. Each time she leaned down to reach his wrists her face came very close to his and her breasts squeezed against his chest. "Peek-a-boo!" she chirped, grinning at him, then rose up again as her hands moved back to his shoulders. He could smell her skin, and he saw the fine sheen of sweat on her breasts as they rose and fell before his eyes. Behind her his erection was starting to lift the elastic band of his trunks. 

After she was done with this, she sat up straight and moved back a little on his belly while she started to manipulate the pectorals of his chest, what she could reach of them under their layers of fat. Suddenly she gave a yelp as she began to slide down his belly. 

"Yikes!" she cried, recovering her balance. "That was a surprise! Just like skiing backwards down a big hill!" 

While still straddling him she had slid down the lower slope of his large belly, and had come to rest with her spread crotch pressing directly on his throbbing erection. She looked up at him and laughed. 

"Well, that was fun," she said, "sure didn't expect that!" Reaching behind her, she grasped his knees and leaned back, arching her back and looking up at the sky. 

"Gosh, what a beautiful day!" she sighed. "Doesn't it feel soooooo good to be out here?" She closed her eyes and smiled up into the sky, while she stretched and writhed in pleasure under the warm sunshine. 

Jack was almost drooling now as her warm crotch rubbed against his hard penis, trapped and excited almost to the point of bursting inside his trunks. He looked up at her gorgeous body, from her hips and the maddening sight of her crotch grinding into him, just barely covered by her thin panties, up her toned belly to those incredible breasts, almost escaping from the tantalizing brassiere. For several seconds she remained stretched back with her eyes closed, smiling while her uncle was staring at her and going mad with lust. 

Finally she straightened up and kneeled between his legs, her hands on her knees as she rested back on folded legs. 

"Well," she said, "that's the end of the massage. So, how was it? Did it feel good?" 

Jack was open mouthed and speechless for a few seconds. When he finally managed to speak, it was in more of a croak than a voice. 

"Yes," he forced out, panting. "Yes, but..." 

"But?" she responded, her eyes widening. "But what?" she said with a little pout. "Didn't you enjoy it?" 

"Oh god, oh yes, Anita, but..." He bit his lips and finally managed to get control of himself. 

"What I mean, Anita, is that if you ... I mean I think you could, you know, make a lot more money in your job if you, well, you know, if you sort of ... sort of went a little further?" 

"Further?" Anita said, frowning in puzzlement. "How do you mean, Uncle Jack?" 

"Well, I mean that sometimes men can get very, ah, you know, excited, when a pretty girl like you gives them a massage, when she touches them so nice the way you do, and ... well, if you, ah, if you touched them some more, you know, in a way that ... that sort of relieved their excitement, then I think they would really like it and ..." 

He trailed off and Anita looked at him for a few seconds, seeming not to understand what he was saying to her. Then her eyes flew open and her mouth dropped in astonishment. 

"Oh! You mean ... you mean, if I massaged them ... here?" 

She reached forward and placed her hand directly on his bulging erection. Her hand remained holding it lightly as she looked enquiringly into his eyes. Jack breathed in sharply and let out a barely suppressed whimper. His penis jumped, but Anita didn't move her hand. 

"Y-yes, yes," he panted, "yes, right there, I ... I think you could do very well in your job if you did that..." His face was flushed and he licked his lips in anticipation. 

Anita removed her hand and looked down at the ground, frowning. 

"Gee, I don't know, Uncle Jack. I don't think I could do that." 

Jack groaned inwardly in disappointment and frustration. 

"I think you could do it, Anita, I think you'd be ... I think you'd be really good at it. Just think, you ... you could pay for all your school books with the extra money you could make!" 

Anita thought about that, then looked up at him shyly. 

"But ... but I've never done anything like that before. I wouldn't know what to do," she said. 

Jack was getting more excited now. "It wouldn't be hard for you to learn, Anita, it's real simple. You just need someone to show you, that's all." 

"Well ... well, I don't know," she said softly. Suddenly she seemed to get an idea. 

"Uncle Jack, do you think you could ... oh, I shouldn't ask you ... but ... well, do ... do you think you could show me how? If you wouldn't mind? Since we're family and all?" 

Jack's heart was on the verge of bursting out of this chest now. 

"I ... I'd be happy to Anita. Anything for my favorite niece!" 

Anita rose to her knees and looked down at the bulge in his crotch. 

"Well, I guess I have to see what it looks like first. Can I look at you, Uncle Jack? Please?" 

"Yea ... yeah," Jack said, licking his lips. His eyes were burning. "Go ahead, get a good look at it..." He spread his legs wider. 

Anita reached forward and pulled the elastic waistband of Jack's swim trunks down until his cock and balls leapt free of their confines. She hooked the waistband under his balls and left it there, leaving him completely exposed. 

Jack was hung like a horse. His erect cock was eight inches long, and its tip had extended completely out of the foreskin. The head was dark red and glistening, and looked almost angry in its quest for more stimulation and excitement. His balls were hoisted like a hairy bag of tennis balls held high by the stretched waistband. 

"Wow," said Anita, "you're so big! I ... I don't know where to begin!" She cupped his balls in her hands, and gently held them, slowly caressing his sac. 

Jack was going mad with excitement now. "Well," he said, panting hard, "just take your hand and..." 

"It's all veiny!" Anita interrupted, running a fingertip along one of the prominent veins that formed a network on Jack's engorged penis. "Wow, that's so weird! It looks so big and swollen -- are you sure it doesn't hurt with all these veins sticking out like that?" She continued running her finger up and down the bluish veins that covered his quivering erection. Glancing at her watch she asked, "So what should I do now?" 

"God, no, it doesn't hurt, it feels just so fucking good! All ya gotta do is just ... ohhhhhhhh!" 

"Look at how this big ridge runs up and down," Anita had interrupted again, "all the way from here ..." -- she put her fingertip on his scrotum -- "all the way up to here...," running up the shaft to the head, lightly feathering his cock along the underside, up and down. 

"Ohhhh my god!" moaned Jack, struggling to speak. "That feels so..." 

"So what should I do?" asked Anita, removing her finger and looking up at him expectantly. 

His labored breathing was making it difficult for him to speak. "Take your hand, sweetie," he finally managed hoarsely, "and put it around my cock. Then move it up and down..." 




Gentle Hands



After perhaps a half hour, she reached down and grasped my partially-erect cock. Her touch brought it to life. It began to harden again and lengthen. After a few strokes of her tiny, soft hand, it was fully hard and erect. She kissed my lips gently, then kissed her way down my body, biting in some spots, sucking in others, but still stroking my manhood slowly. I simply laid on my back and enjoyed the sensations of her youth.

She took my cock in both hands and began kissing the tip, then up and down the shaft. An occasional tongue-lashing from her caused it to twitch and me to cry out. She kissed her way from its base to its length, and then slowly took it into her warm, moist mouth. Her sucking was exquisitely slow and erotic. Up and down she went, only occasionally lightly scraping my shaft with her teeth. Never had I felt so aroused, so long, and so hard as with Becky's beautiful young mouth making it so. She slowed when she sensed I was nearly ready to cum.

"Lee, I want to feel you inside me," she whispered. 

I opened my eyes. She had already positioned herself over me. She lowered herself until the tip of my cock just touched her clit. Becky allowed my cock's tip to kiss and lick her clit. She gasped at the sensation of wetness and heat and hardness she controlled. An arc of sexual electricity jumped from her clit to my tip and surged throughout my body. 

My cock, still wet from her mouth, was ready, and she lowered herself down upon it. Slowly, oh so slowly I entered her. Each millimeter of it she consumed seemed to revel in the sensations surrounding. Further and further she drew me in until I disappeared completely inside her. We sat quietly for a few moments, each of us wanting that moment, that wet, hot sensuality, to continue for hours, though we both seemed to know we were seconds away from explosions of fire and light.

From my reclining position I ran my hands up her thighs and began to use my thumb to stimulate her clit. She began undulating her hips so my cock moved in and out while my thumb kept up its touches. She pushed my hand away, so strong was the sensation. I reached up and took both her nipples between my thumbs and index fingers and commenced to pinch and pull in rhythm with her thrusts, now increasing in frequency and intensity.

Her eyes closed, her lips parted, and her face took on a dreamy look as she drove me deeper inside her and forced herself closer to orgasm. I felt her pussy's muscles tightening around me now, quicker and quicker, pulling harder and harder trying to suck me into her womanhood. 

We were both now gasping for air, crying out in sexual abandon, using words and sounds to spur each other on, closer and closer, louder and louder, faster and faster. Her fingernails dug into my chest as I began to buck upward against her. I continued to pull and pinch harder on her nipples and thrust my cock into her. She clawed and scratched and screamed as she felt the inner explosion begin. I cried out, feeling my white hot liquid beginning its unstoppable eruption.

We both came together in a flurry of wanton orgasmic detonation. I felt my hot cum flowing unstoppably into her, I felt her pussy contracting and releasing over and over again to suck me dry. I heard her crying out my name as she thrashed in her own ecstatic ballet on my hardness. With one final simultaneous cry of release, we both gave our last gasp of exhilaration. Then she collapsed on my chest, my still-hard cock remaining inside her. We breathed hard, raggedly, erratically and erotically as our lust subsided. 

She laid on top of me, now quiet, until darkness began to creep over the lake. We whispered, talked, kissed, touched gently. As the night pushed aside the day, she got up, gathered her clothes strewn between the rooms, and dressed. I started to get up, but gently pushed me back down onto the bed and said she needed to leave. 

She kissed me again. As she reached the door, she turned and spoke.

"You do have gentle hands and a gentle heart."

A smile, then she closed the door behind her. I heard her car door close, then she drove away, leaving me with the memory of her youthful lust and the rustling leaves of fall.