Chapter 3: Helping Jill to Feel Better

Jill nodded and I held her hand as we walked slowly to the restrooms. The church had several to choose from but I decided to go for the one way down the hall even though it was the furthest away. Well, the last thing we needed was to have any of the youth girls walk in on us with Jill in this predicament. Another attribute which contributed to my decision was it was meant for just one person, having only one stall, meaning it had a lock on the door which I made sure to turn after I closed it. Once we were alone in the restroom, Jill leaned over the sink, looked into the mirror and frowned.

“Oh my God, I look a wreck!” she mumbled, wiping the tears from her face. Jill started to turn the knobs to run some water to wash her face. The faucets were old and didn’t work all that well, usually refusing to provide any real flow and then suddenly another fraction of a turn and it went to full blast. I knew from past experience they splashed badly in the process so I stepped up to warn her.

“Be careful Jill, these stupid faucets tend to splash and you really don’t want THAT top to get wet,” I warned her, inadvertently expressing my thoughts about her outfit. Indeed, as tight as it was, any wetness would have REALLY shown off her big boobs. As it was there was enough evidence to know she had large nipples without anything more to draw attention. Jill pulled her arms though the sleeve and then reached down, grabbed the bottom of her tank top and started to pull it over her head but it was so tight she was struggling.

“Thanks, Kelly,” she sniffled, “Ummmmm, can you give me a hand?”

I stood in front of her and pulled it up and over her head. While it was covering her head I couldn’t help but stare at her huge boobs straining for release from the confines of a large white bra. She turned around then to finish taking off the top and I found it interesting to see the number of hooks in the back. There must have been four of them to keep it together whereas my own bras, when I chose to wear them, usually had a couple at most. I guess that’s a difference between 40DD and 34C I hadn’t considered before. God, what a pain it had to be to clip them together every morning and undoing them had to be a trial as well.

As she leaned over the sink, her bare belly hung a little over her shorts but I tried not to notice. It did, however, remind me that I’d put on a couple of pounds since graduation and maybe I needed to start working out. No way was I ever going to let myself look like THAT! For her part t hadn’t reached the stage where it looked gross, but she had better start thinking about it.

“God it feels so good to get that damn thing off,” she sighed, “I must be allergic to the material or something, felt like I’ve needed to scratch all day. Maybe it was that new laundry soap my sister insisted on selling me. That’s what I get for trying to make her happy.”

She shook her shoulders as if trying to rid herself of the itching. I reached for her back and started to scratch the top of her back above her bra with my fingernails.

“Oh god Kelly, that feels good,” she sighed.

I kept scratching as she leaned over the sink, resting her hands on the sink edge. I could see her face in the mirror, the look of bliss obvious.

“Kelly, I really hate to ask you this, but would you do that under my bra strap? God, it’s killing me!”

No wonder, it must have been two or three inches wide! I tried to fit my fingers underneath it but it was too tight to allow me to effectively scratch.

“Dang it, that’s not working, is it?” she sighed, “Oh screw it, just undo it then.”

Undoing a bra strap on another woman was NOT something I have a great deal of experience with other than helping out a roomie or my mom, especially since I rarely wore one myself. Sort of funny in that I never have problems undoing my own. It’s just seems different undoing them from the opposite direction, like trying to button someone’s shirt for them. I fumbled at first with the snaps like some high school boy but eventually undid the last one and her bra strap snapped to her sides like a rubber band being freed. It was then I noticed she wasn’t showing any tan lines. Hmmm, was Jill sunbathing without her top in her back yard? Did the neighbors notice? I have to say I would never in a million years have thought Jill would be tanning topless.

“Oh yes, now THAT feels so much better,” she sighed as I worked her back with both hands. Unlike my mom’s back, which was firm and tight, Jill’s rolled a little under my hands but still felt smooth and soft. If nothing else, it beat doing some hairy man’s back, that was for sure.

As I scratched and rubbed her back, I saw her bra straps had slipped off her shoulders and down to where they caught on her elbows, in the process allowing her boobs to free themselves from their confinement. Again, I couldn’t help but compare her breasts to my mom’s. My mother’s may not be as perky as they’d been twenty years ago, and her days of not wearing a bra were long past her (except when she was teasing my dad or going out on the town with me), but they still were fairly firm to the touch. In contrast, Jill’s sagged more and if they hadn’t been so large, might have looked positively droopy but with the additional mass from her weight gain they managed to look pretty good.

Had anyone described the circumstances we now were in, it would have been inconceivable to me that I would’ve any sexual feelings towards Jill. She was ten years older than me, probably weighed thirty or forty pounds more, was married with two young brats, and now she had just dumped this huge sob story on me to deal with. OK, then why was I unable to take my eyes off her boobs? Was it really her boobs that drew my attention or were they just something to focus on? Was it that her husband was cheating on her and I felt sorry for her, enough to want to offer her something to console her? Something a little more intimate than a back rub? In the mirror I could see Jill had her eyes closed, a look of peace on her face now as she seemed to be enjoying the attention I was giving her. Slowly, like a teenage boy making his first moves on his virgin girlfriend, I let my fingers wander more to her sides, working their way around until I lightly brushed the tips of my fingers against the side of her boobs. Eventually, instead of scratching her back, I was scratching her sides, letting my fingers run up further along the side of her boobs as I did.

The silence in the room was ear-shattering. Not a sound could be heard except the faint sound of the exhaust fan and her deep breaths as she leaned motionless over the desk. How she didn’t hear my heart pounding in my chest, I’ll never know! It was strange role reversal for me. Normally it would have been me sitting still, waiting anxiously for a boy to work up the nerve to fondle and grope me. God, how many times had I been in a situation similar to this where I just wanted to grab his hand and pull it to my boobs and tell him to get on with it! I didn’t want to scare them off though or have them think I was THAT kind of girl so I usually let them think they were getting away with something and in some way seducing me. Hey, whatever works, right?

Well, now it was my turn to be the shy aggressor. It was starting to become a little game for me; how far could I get before she said something? It wasn’t like this had started with any sexual expectations so I didn’t want to rush and then have her lose her nerve and stop me. At the same time, we didn’t exactly have all day either. Sooner or later someone was going to wonder where we were and come looking for us.

Taking in a deep breath, I worked my fingers further around her until my hands were solidly on her breasts and I could feel her nipples between my fingers. God, they were already rock hard and pointing out like missiles! I took each between two fingers and gently pulled on them and then held her big boobs in my hands. I couldn’t get half of them in my palms!

“Ummmmm, what are you doing Kelly?” she whispered softly. My heart skipped a beat until l realized she wasn’t making any effort to stop me.

“Don’t you like it?” I asked, avoiding her question by offering another.

“It just feels ... strange,” she answered back softly in a dreamy like voice, “but a GOOD kind of strange.”

Well, no turning back now so I started to massage her large boobs in my hands, feeling the mass of them as I pulled them upwards and then slowly let them drop. Again I played with her nipples, making her gasp as I t twisted them and then pulled them out and let them snap back. I’d never touched breasts this large before so the entire experience was quite surreal.

“Tell me Jill ... ever had a girl do this to you before?” I whispered softly in her ear from behind.

“Oh my god noooooo,” she sighed, “never.”

Boy, talk about role reversal. I felt like I was the shy boy now, worried his date was going to stop him but still feeling like he needed assurance. “Do you want me to stop?”

“Oh no! I didn’t mean that,” she came back quickly, “I kinda like it.”