Chapter 43: Massage

Cheryl returned from dropping Cheryl off, saying, “You know she really does.”

Confused at her comment that seemed more random than normal, “What in the world are you talking about?”

“The love you, Helen said,” Cheryl explained. “In fact, sometimes I think she loves you more than me.”

“She doesn’t, but she likes me a lot more at times,” I stated. “Probably because I am consistent with her. And I don’t do dumb things like embarrass her or talk to her like her feelings don’t matter. I also let her know she is special. When was the last time you told her she is special?”

Cheryl initially looked shocked at my reply. Then she got defensive, “You heard me tell her she was special right before she left.”

“That wasn’t telling her she was special. That was saying she was special in what she could do to you. Not that even if she didn’t bring you so much pleasure, she would be special,” I told her. “Try surprising her sometimes by kissing her for no reason. Not expecting it to go any further.”

“You mean when you are there? That would embarrass her, which I am not supposed to do. According to you,” she said, going in and flopping on the couch. She looked a bit defeated at my advice.

“I’m sure if you did it in a way where I didn’t feel the need to tell you to get a room. She would not be so embarrassed.” I sat down next to her and put my arm around her shoulder, pulling her into the side of me. “Have you ever thought of why you feel the need to always go that far when I am around?”

“You know this is a heavy conversation to be having after having ler leave. I won’t even be able to talk to her for ten days. And aren’t these things I should discuss with her?” Cheryl asked, trying to get me to stop asking her the hard questions.

“Probably, but shouldn’t you ask them to yourself first?” I queried. “So why do you need to turn everything sexual when you know I am around? I’ve seen you being sweet to her during sex when you think I’m not around or can hear you.”

For the first time in a long time, Cheryl looked ashamed. “How often does that happen?”

“More than you would think,” I answered. “Why does it matter?”

“It just does.” She quickly turned agitated. Her volume went up, “I can’t believe you let us do stuff while you secretly watched.”

“First I didn’t secretly watch. Second, calm yourself. I, at times, have seen you tenderly making love with Helen. Again, it is that whole act you do when you know I can hear or see what you two are doing. That’s when you have sex with Helen,” I said, pulling her tighter. “And you know there is a difference.”

“Yes, I know,” she affirmed.

“So what is your explanation for the difference when you know I am around? Clearly, I don’t care that you have a girlfriend or that you love her,” I said. And while that was not a popular sentiment at the time, I figured who they loved didn’t affect me one way or the other. When it did, then I would care and make my opinion known.

“I know. It is just...”Cheryl started. She sat next to me, plainly fighting an internal battle. I let her stew in her thoughts until she was ready to tell me what she was thinking. It took only four minutes of silence before she restarted her explanation. “You know I do love Helen. But I don’t think I am a lesbian. I don’t think she is one at heart either. And I don’t want you to think I am. So if all you ever see is sex, maybe you will someday notice me as a woman who likes men. And that the sex is just for fun and feels good.”

I knew ‘likes men’ meant me. “So by displaying only sex when you two are together is so I know you like sex? I don’t know many people who don’t. But I also think you have to care for the person you are with for it to be the most enjoyable. Don’t get me wrong; sex for just sex’s sake is great, but if you care for the person, it is fabulous. And that even includes when doing some of the kinky stuff I think Helen may like.”

“You mean like the spanking?” Cheryl asked.

“Yes, that and some of the other things you two may do when you are older,” I answered.

“So if I like doing those things for her and making love to her, it doesn’t mean I am a lesbian?” She asked in a manner that said she didn’t necessarily want the answer.

“Do you have those same feelings for any other girls? Or can you see yourself loving another girl besides Helen?” I asked instead of answering her question directly.

“No, just Helen,” she replied.

“And the sex with Jane the other night? No love there?” I asked.

“If I say no, I will sound like a slut. But if I say yes, I will sound like a lesbian. So I don’t know what to say,” Cheryl answered. I could tell she was getting flustered.

“Knowing these kinds of things about yourself. And thinking about what your actions say about you, before doing them, is part of being an adult,” I said. I kissed her forehead. “And your actions with Jane were on the slutty side of the register. Does it make you a slut? At that moment I would say maybe. Because you do care about Jane, just not love her for her. You seemed to love her for the pleasure she brought you. Either when you were receiving the pleasure or giving it.”

“I guess so,” Cheryl acknowledged. She sat again quietly for a while, thinking. She broke her silence with, “So I am kind of a slut. That’s nice to know.”

“Well, I just think of you as my beautiful ward,” I said, kissing her forehead again.

Cheryl appeared still a bit dejected. And it got worse with my last comment. “Can you just think of me as a beautiful woman and not a ward?”

“Sure, I can try,” I answered in a short burst. Then, moving my hand down to her side, I put an end to the heavy discussion. “But a ward I get to tickle.” I started tickling Cheryl mercilessly.

Cheryl began laughing and bouncing around in my arms. She pleaded, “Please stop. It’s too much. Too much.” She continued giggling and trying to fight my tickling of her off. The longer she fought, the weaker her resistance became. She was hyperventilating, barely able to whine out, “Enough ... Enough ... I can’t take any more.” Her arms finally gave up, and she had tears running out of her eyes. “Fine ... Fine ... I’m a ward.”

I was mostly on top of Cheryl when I finally stopped moving my fingers up and down her sides. I laughed and smiled at her, “A compromise. My beautiful ward who is becoming an extraordinary woman.”

Cheryl, still huffing, quickly agreed, “Yes, I like that. And now that you have made all my sore muscles ache again. What do I have to do to get you to give me a body massage?”

I lifted myself off her. “I guess today you just have to ask.”

Cheryl pushed me off the couch so she could lie flat. Before she did, she unbuttoned the front of her sundress. I was privileged to get a close view of her round, tanned breast with the pickled pink, quarter-sized areola with their hard eraser nubs sticking out. They remained mostly untanned, being covered eighty percent of the time even when in her bikini.

“Cheryl, what are you doing?” I asked, not expecting her to start removing her dress.

“Making it so you can rub and massage my back without the dress getting in the way,” she answered, sliding her arms out of the armholes. She pushed the dress down to her hips. The gathered fabric bulged at her waist. It was likely the first time she had started to undress for me, and it was not her way of trying to seduce me in some manner. She flopped onto her front, driving her tits into the cushion. “John, will you finish removing it and then give me a massage?”

It was not the way I envisioned the first time I would remove Cheryl’s dress to put my hands all over her body. Sure, I had removed clothes that were stuck to her with sweat. But then she had gone straight to the shower alone. Now she was clean and dry and asking me to undress her and put my hands on her. “Yes, I will give you a massage, but I don’t think it is right I do it when you have nothing on.”

Staying flat on the couch, she looked back over her shoulder. “What makes you think I don’t have on underwear?”

“Cheryl, we have lived together. How long? And you just got back from taking Helen home before she goes on vacation without you. You are going to tell me you have underwear on?” I asked.

“Well ... I could,” she argued. “I don’t, but I could.”

“So do you think it is appropriate for me to remove your dress?” I asked.

“Yes,” she answered emphatically. “It’s not like I am offering sex. Just making the massage better.”

“Yeah, I know,” I acknowledged. “But naked?”

“Isn’t that the way the high price, paid for massages are done?” she replied.

“Yes, but only at reputable locations. The rest are rub-and-tug establishments. And this is neither of those,” I told her.

“Then can’t you just imagine I have my bikini on and the string in the back is just wedged completely in my crack?” Cheryl proposed.

She was right. Only the string across her waist was visible when the string of the bikini bottoms was jammed up in the crack of her ass. But except for spanking her, I had not laid a hand on her in any way when she was in it. She didn’t wait for my answer. She raised her hips and pushed the gathered-up dress below the roundness of her ass cheeks, showing her fine ass.

She was not going to give up. I decided it was not worth the argument. Plus, self-control said it didn’t matter what Cheryl was wearing or not wearing; I was responsible for how I reacted to it. (In later years, it made me think demanding women wear hijabs so men were not tempted was immoral and showed the men’s mental weakness.) “Ok,” I said, reaching for the gathered-up fabric.

I gently pulled the dress down past her thighs. She raised up on her toes, letting the dress pass by her knees. Once passed, she let her knees back down and raised

her feet up. The undressing was finished with the dress going over her feet and placed at the end of the couch. Looking back at the naked form on the couch, I could not help but admire its perfection.

For reasons beyond my understanding, I felt trepidation when I reached out to start the massage. I had slept with her when she was naked. She had ground her pussy on my thigh. She had flaunted her sexy body in front of me and made herself available many times had I only taken her. But now I hesitated just in touching her naked form, fearing it wouldn’t stop with a massage.

Still, I reached out, putting my hands on her shoulders. They were tense under her silky skin. I squeezed her small shoulders to her low groan. I press on her shoulder blades, digging my fingers into her muscles and generating more groans of appreciation and pleasure from her. The groans were muffled in the cushion as I pressed her further down into them. I worked her shoulder blades, getting the muscles to relax. Gradually I worked around her chest to the sides. If her tits had been larger, I would have been massaging nothing but the sides of them. Instead, my fingertips were on the sides of her firm flesh. Her groans of released tension had a hint of moans of pleasure once my fingers pressed on them.

I tried to not change what I was doing, bringing even more attention to my pressing on her breasts. To do so, I had to continue pressing and squeezing the sides of her lemon-sized tits. She wiggled her ass ever so slightly as I did so. I could feel her starting to tense back up with each compression of her firm flesh. I quickly moved my hands back up her ribcage to her spine. Cheryl whined a bit at the change.