The Back Rub

I gave her a ride home from the bar. She was in that drunk, affectionate mood she gets when she wants attention. We sat in the car for a few minutes, making out. We’d done this enough now that I no longer felt any guilt over it. It wasn’t anything her husband hadn’t seen her do at the bar when she was in one of these moods. Well, it was a little more serious, involving tongue, but still just playing around as far as she was concerned. The fact that her husband was also my best friend is what triggered the guilt the first couple of times we did this. We’d talked about it and he’d more or less said if she wants to do it, go for it.

We broke for air and she asked if I wanted to come in. I said sure, knowing full well that she would offer maybe a beer, some conversation, and nothing more. After all, her husband would be asleep in the next room.

I sat on a daybed that, with a couple of bolster cushions, doubled as a couch in their living room. She went into the kitchen and brought us a couple of beers, sitting next to me, but not too close.

“Gary must have passed out. I could hear him snoring when I walked by the hall.”

“He has an early day tomorrow,” I said.

“How are you with neck rubs?” she asked. “I have this kink that’s driving me nuts.”

“I guess I’m average at it.”

I scooted back and over so I was more or less behind her and rubbed her neck and shoulders. She relaxed her muscles, let her head drop.

“Mmm, that feels good.”

I continued for a few minutes, slow and firm, till my arms started to get tired.

“Would you mind doing my back, too?” she asked.

“Not at all.”

She moved to stretch out on the bed. I scooted out of her way till she got settled.

I sat beside her on the edge of the daybed and began rubbing her back through her shirt. It was an oversized t-shirt that she’d cut the arms off of at the seams.

“You can lift that out of the way,” she said, lifting herself off the cushion to allow room.

I pulled the shirt up under her arm pits, having some difficulty getting it clear of her tits. She was wearing a bra, but it was one of those elastic pullover things that provided cover and not much else. She had a nice set, grapefruit sized, and they needed no support.

I rubbed her back, sort of a pressure-move motion. Without oil, it’s about all you can do. I easily slipped my hands under the bra-strap to get at her shoulders. She lifted herself again, as though she wanted me to move the strap out of the way too. I moved my hands down either side, found the bottom seam and pulled it away from her, moving it up. As soon as it cleared her tits, she lowered herself back to the cushion.

I got up and straddled her legs, just below her butt, to get better leverage. I wondered how this would look if Gary got up to take a piss and happened to look in the living room.

“Could you do my lower back, too?” she asked. “Just above the tailbone. I did some yard work yesterday and it’s still sore.”


I scooted back. I worked my way down her back to the elastic waistband of her shorts. They were high-waisted and I was still a few inches from where she’d asked me go, so I moved my hands down and rubbed the spot through the fabric, working my way out to her hips and then back toward her spine. Then, just for the hell of it, I went back up to bare skin and slipped just my thumbs under the waistband.

She lifted her hips, as she had done with her bra. I grasped her shorts and pulled them down slowly, figuring she would lower herself again when she thought I’d gone far enough. Her tailbone was exposed, then the top half of each cheek. Still no sign of underwear, and still no sign from her to stop. Instead of thinking how this would look to Gary, I was thinking how much I’d always wanted to see her bare ass, so I kept pulling till her shorts were about halfway down her thighs. She lowered her hips, slightly parting her legs as she did.

I could just see her pussy lips and wisps of auburn hair surrounding them. Now what? Hubby was in the next room, she’d just let me all but take her clothes off, but she showed no sign of wanting me to do anything more than giving her a massage. I think she actually believed that there was nothing unusual about this.

I continued to rub. Her lower back, down to the slope of that cute little butt, then one hand on each cheek, gently squeezing and releasing. I felt her muscles tighten and relax in response. She took a long breath and released it slowly. Her eyes were closed and her head was resting on her forearms.

I moved my hands to the tops of her thighs, one hand on each leg, my thumbs on her inner thighs, inches from her pussy, my fingers on the outside. I squeezed and released, moving my hands down and then back up, each time a little closer to her slit.

I could feel heat coming from her there. She parted her legs a little more, just barely lifting her butt a little further.

I stopped rubbing and let my hands just lightly caress her skin, moving my fingers between her legs until I could feel the tickle of her pubic hair. She made a small sound in her throat and arched her back, tilting her hips up and exposing her pussy to full view. I moved the last fraction of an inch and covered her pink lips with my fingers. She was wet and hot. I worked my fingers between her the folds of her cunt, stretching my middle finger up to her clit.

“Hunh!” she moaned, clinching her butt, pressing against my hand.

I rubbed her button slowly, gradually increasing pressure. This brought another sigh and a stifled moan.

I paused then and reached down to pull her shorts further down, thinking she could spread her legs a little farther.

“No!” she whispered, still with her eyes closed. It was as though there was nothing wrong if she kept her clothes on, that removing them would somehow be more of a betrayal than what we were doing.

Whatever. I returned my attention to her pussy. She was practically dripping by now. I moistened a finger in her juices and went back to rubbing her clit. She rocked her hips back and forth, clinching her muscles each time her hips moved forward. I moved my hand with her, struggling to keep contact with her. She paused once when she raised her butt, and I took the opportunity to slip my thumb into her fuck-hole, keeping my middle finger in solid contact with her clit.

“Mmmmph!” she moaned. She buried her face in the cushion, stretching her hands above her head and clinching the edge of the daybed. She stopped thrusting her butt and just held it where I had the best position to flick her clit with my finger, keeping my thumb buried in her vaginal canal, applying a steady pressure to the front part. Her cunt muscles clenched and released in increasing rhythm, her breath coming in short gasps, a little whispered moan escaping with each exhale.

“Yesss!” she hissed. My finger was flying over the hard little ball of her clit, the juices from her pussy making swishing sounds, soaking my hand.

Her butt clinched hard, released, then clinched again, harder, then her whole body went stiff and she quivered like a bowstring.

“Hunnnh!” her face pressed into the cushion so far I thought she’d suffocate.

“Humph!” her body jerked, then jerked again.

I held my hand still, just applying a steady pressure. I could feel her juices running down my hand, soaking the cushion.

Her body relaxed a little, then another spasm hit and she gave a little shiver. She finally lifted her head, looking over her shoulder with a big grin.

“Thanks for the back rub.”

“I aim to please,” I said. I gave her ass a squeeze with my still-wet hand.

“There’s a towel in the bathroom,” she hinted.

“O.K.” I went to the bathroom, dried off my hand, pausing as I did to see if I could hear any snoring from down the hall. I’d gone from worrying about getting caught to hoping I could get his wife to return the favor I’d just done her.

I carried the towel out to her, thinking she’d want to mop up herself. She was sitting there, every stitch of clothing back in its proper place, sipping her beer like nothing happened.

“Oh, thanks,” she said, “but I just used a tissue.”

“O.K.” I sat down, took a drink of beer and lit a cigarette.

“Well, I’m ready to turn in,” she said. “Did you want a beer to take with you?”

Damn! I had this rock-hard dick from watching her come, making her come, and she was sending me on my way. This gave new meaning to the word ‘tease.’

“No, thanks. Too many cops on the road these days.”

She walked me to the door. I opened it and turned for the usual good-night hug. She pressed her whole body against mine, giving an extra little push of her belly against my hard-on, and whispered “thank you” into my ear, then kissed me, her tongue exploring my mouth.

Just as I was wondering if she was reconsidering my leaving, she pulled back. She reached down and took my right hand, raising it to her face, smiling. Then she took the middle finger, the one that had lately had her jerking like a fish on a hook and probably still smelled of her cum, and sucked that finger all the way into her mouth, then slowly pulled it out.

“Next time I’ll rub your back,” she said.

“I can’t wait,” I said, and left for home.