The late night heat was tempered by a slight breeze wafting through the chiffon drapes and open window. She lay on the bed, naked for her own comfort, on her stomach reading. Was it perverse that I stood outside staring, mildly aroused by the curvature of her bottom and the definition of her legs?
What possessed me to climb through that window so stealthily I’ll never know, but there I was stood at the foot of her bed. Placing both my hands on her calves, I began to massage them intently. She gaze a quick glance back with a smile and returned to her reading.
Had she known I was outside? Heard me come in? Was she expecting me? I continued to rub her legs, slowly getting higher as much as I dared. My fingers slipped between her thigh, rubbing deeply into her muscles, occasionally flicking across her now wettening pussy. She groaned but continued to read.
I changed position, coming to stand beside her. I focused my attention on her shoulders and back. Trailing my fingers down her spine I worked the small of her back and the cheeks of her arse. Occasionally I’d run my finger down her side touching her breasts.
She rolled over and said nothing. Still reading her book, she just smiled. It was an invitation to massage fully her breasts and squeeze her nipples. She clearly wasn’t reading as she’d been on the same page for ages.
Just then a noise outside the room startled her. I made my leave as quickly and quietly as I entered, turning back to see her mum enter her room as she covered herself in a silk sheet from off the bed.
I returned the following night, but the window was closed fast and curtains drawn. No sign of that amazing delectable body.