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High School boy gives Frequent Massage to his girlfriend

 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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