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Happy Ending - Story
🕑 Added 2023-10-10 07:10:01 +0000 UTCThe best parties include nakedness. I don't mean some kind of old-fashioned
50's nudism, where everyone leaps about in tennis shoes and clothes are
forbidden. I mean parties where there is some excuse, like a hot-tub, or
clothing optional swimming in a pool or lake, or some other reason why pretty
people who like to show themselves off can do so. Myself, I am some years past
the showing off phase of life, though I keep myself trim. Being an instructor
at the local college doesn't really encourage me to much physical activity. I
tend to keep my shirt on at the beach.
That Saturday there was a party at the beach, and I had decided to go and
enjoy some sight-seeing and have a couple of beers. The party was held by the
local writer's circle, and included faculty of several generations, older
students and town's people who were interested. This little circle, my own
idea ten years ago, has done a great deal to improve relations between our
small liberal arts college and the local mining town.
I had mingled for a while, and now I had taken a beer and was sitting under a
tree by the beach, writing in my daybook. I'm an old-fashioned sort, really,
and prefer to do notes and first drafts in pen and paper, before resorting to
the computer. Today this was annoying me, and I was fighting hand cramps,
writing a little at a time, then shaking off a cramp and waiting. As I quietly
cursed the next cramp, a young woman came walking up, carrying a big towel in
one hand, smiling broadly.
The first unmistakable thing about the girl was her total nakedness. I had
noticed that some of the younger folks had been stripping off for swimming,
but I made it my business not to stare. Now I couldn't help but notice the
second thing, or a list of delightful things. She was a tall, heavy, amazingly
proportioned woman, probably 28 years old. I remembered her from meetings,
where she tended to dress demurely. Now her huge, perfectly shaped bosom
swayed above a trim, hard-looking waist and her round white thighs carried her
easily up the little slope to where I sat. She plopped herself down beside me,
as tall as me and rather more massive.
"Hello Doc," she said, using the undeserved nickname I had among the townies.
I was no PhD, but my tweedy professor persona just made the nickname make
sense. She leaned in toward me, letting her huge breasts dangle and pointing
her thick red lips at me.
"Hello Kitty," I smiled, "That's a lovely outfit... been in the lake, I'll
guess."
She leaned back, raising her breasts and looking me right in the eye. Kitty, a
regular at the bookclub, was probably 25 pounds overweight, but on a thick
5'10" frame it only made her look rounder. Her bosoms stood remarkably round
for their size, held by well-developed pecs that made her chest look heavy and
solid. Her arms were big and round as she leaned back on them, and her tummy
was flat, though nicely padded. Her long, thick legs were tucked under her.
Doc thought that there was every chance that Kitty's big chest could be seen
from space. At 48 he was far from immune to the sight of this healthy young
woman with perfect white skin, blue eyes, black hair and red lips.
"You like the birthday suit, Doc?" she said, then laughed and relaxed,
throwing the towel around her chest, tying it in the front.
"You're a healthy girl, obviously, Kitty," I teased, and she smiled at me.
"I am, actually, though I wanna lose another 20 lbs of fat. I've been working
out so much I haven't really been worrying about my weight." She absently
flexed her right arm and squeezed the big round muscle I saw pop. She turned
and scooted next to me against the big tree, and reached out to take my
writing hand in hers.
"Hey, I saw your hand cramping. I bet I can help. I've been learning massage
and pressure-point therapy." Her long fingers went around my wrist and firmly
pulled the hand down to take it in the fingers of her other hand. I
reflexively pulled my hand back, but her hand on my wrist held mine without
moving, as she began to massage the heel of my hand. "Don't squirm, doc, I bet
I can help."
For the next ten minutes she worked on my hand and forearm. Her big fingers
pressed and kneaded, digging into the nerves of my forearm and working my hand
and fingers. She smiled prettily as she worked, and commented on how soft my
hand was.
"There, that's easy," she murmured to herself as she worked her thumb and
finger around a muscle in my forearm. "Mmm, you're nice and soft, Doc," she
murmured, seeming not to be speaking directly to me as she worked on my arm.
It felt great, and even when she hit some knot of nerves it felt therapeutic.
She worked my hand in detail, pressing her fingers between my bones and
tendons. Her pretty face focused in concentration, her red lips moistening as
she worked. Her strong fingers found pressure points and squeezed them, until
my hand was tingling and numb, but in rather a good way.
"I'm afraid this won't help with writing over the next half-hour, Doc, but it
should relieve that cramping for a while," She began a final round of
squeezing and stroking, and pulled his hand to her lips to kiss his fingers.
He allowed himself to enjoy the feeling, but when he felt himself stirring in
his pants his sense of ethics interrupted his reverie.
"Now, Kitty, I don't think that's a good idea," he pulled his hand back, but
she closed a massaging hand on his wrist and his hand didn't move more than an
inch. She gently pulled it back to kiss it again, and then released him, a
big, pretty smile on her lips.
"I know, Doc," she said, making a pouty frown, then smiling again, "I'm just a
student and all. But you know what? It's really just a club - we aren't in
school..."
"You're young enough to be my daughter, Honey," he said, taking up his pen
again in trembling fingers. He found that he could hardly grip the pen in his
fingers, and he shook his hand out and flexed the fingers, laughing a little.
"You really worked me over, kid," he chuckled.
"Just a little Doc," she chuckled in turn, "when I work a guy over, he knows
it." She winked and sauntered away, as he called his thanks after her and she
waved over her shoulder, her round, wide ass rolling as she strode off.
The next morning Doc felt as if his hand had been put through a ringer. The
muscles and tendons felt stretched and crushed, and his articulation was
clumsy. Three days later his hand felt great, and he spent the next couple of
weeks writing without cramps.
"You know, Kitty," he said after the last summer meeting of the writer's club,
"You really helped my hand. You're really getting some skill at that!"
"I love it, Doc," she said, standing with him in front of the building. She
was dressed in a flannel shirt and jeans, with sneakers. Having seen Kitty
naked, he had no trouble appreciating her thick curves even under the cloth,
her jeans tight around her thighs and butt. Her shoulders and chest filled the
shirt, and the sleeves even seemed a little tight around her upper arms when
she paused to tie back her black hair. "I love helping people, making them
feel better," she said, finishing tying back her hair, muscles plainly flexing
in her sleeves, "And, you know, massotherapy is just the thing for a strong
girl like me."
Kitty stepped up to me, until her breasts were lightly pressed against my
chest. She stroked my arm with her fingers, and said, "Would you like a full
massage some time, Doc? I'm sure I can make you feel really good. No charge -
I can use the practice"
Now, this was a bit confusing. I did want to avoid encouraging this pretty
young thing in any teacher crush she may have on me, but I also have the usual
list of little aches and pains of the middle-aged guy, and massage usually
made me feel better. So I gently set my hands on Kitty's shoulders to ease her
breasts from my chest. If I hadn't been sure of her physique until then,
feeling the thick, firm muscle of her upper arms made an impression on me. I
made to set her back, but it just didn't happen. Her mass, and just a little
resistance, I thought, meant I'd have had to start wrestling to have a chance
of moving her. Instead she took my hand in hers and stepped back on her own.
She held my hand and said "don't be scared, Doc. It'll be nice..."
"Oh, I suppose I could..."
"Great! I'll bring my table to your place after dinner, say around 8." she
stepped forward quickly and planted a warm kiss on my cheek, then gave a
bright smile and said, "Thanks, Doc!" and strode off, her big butt swaying
beneath broad shoulders.
I decided to eat at a local tavern, to avoid cooking and cleaning up before
the... massage. Was this a date? Great Whatever, I hoped not. I was really
afraid of what might happen to my reputation in this little town if I started
sleeping with my girlish students. Not that Kitty was a child, of course...
she was a grown woman, somewhere near thirty... so young enough to be my
daughter, if I had made an early error. Well, I wouldn't be making any errors
tonight. All this passed through my mind (along with recurring images of Kitty
naked, Kitty's powerful chest and shoulders, Kitty's lips... damn!) as I put
away a reuben and salad, with three nice ales. Physically fortified and with a
touch of bottle courage, I found myself looking forward to a nice massage.
A nice walk home, a shower and shave, and two more beers and I was feeling
cheerful. I dressed in good silk boxers, a t-shirt and my good bathrobe. I'd
had therapeutic massage before, and it usually involved some minimal clothes.
I looked at myself in the mirror. Still fairly trim, I stood 5'11" tall, at
about 170 lbs. I couldn't remember the last time I'd been to a gym, but I
walked frequently and played a little tennis. I had my hair, my brown eyes and
my wit, and these seemed to serve me well. Though... um... I wasn't getting
ready for a seduction, now, was I?
The knock at the door came a few minutes after eight, and Kitty came rolling
in carrying her massage table and a shoulder bag. She wore a light cotton
shirt tied under her breasts, and some sort of black undershirt, along with
loose cotton pants and sandals. She dropped her table and bag by the door and
stood looking at me.
"Great, Doc - you dressed for a massage," she smiled, her face lighting up,
"Pretty robe, Dude..."
"Do you think so? I..." then I looked up to see her smirking at me. "Um,
joking, yes?"
"Yep, you're a smart old fella, Doc," she walked across the room, stepped up
to me and planted a nice, quick, strong kiss on my lips, "Cute, too. Do you
have anything for a girl to drink?"
"If a girl likes some German beer..."
"Love some German beer!"
I got out two bottles and glasses, as Kitty swiftly set up her table. She
handled the big folding table like it was made of paper, lifting and swinging
it open, then taking sheets from her duffle and making it up tight and neat.
As she finished she peeled off the cotton shirt, exposing bare shoulders and
arms in a 'muscle-shirt' style thing that clung tight to her torso. I couldn't
tell whether she wore a bra, which made me nervous.
So we sat at the breakfast counter and had a beer. Kitty laughed that she was
supposed to work on her history-taking and on making clients comfortable, so
she asked me the basic medical questions and I explained which parts of my
back and shoulders were most likely to knot up and give me trouble. Kitty's
pretty face and apparent honest interest made her good at the process.
"You're a natural at this part, Kitty," I said, "it's nice just to talk to
you."
"That's a nice thing to say, Doc. The whole business makes me nervous - I know
how to move someone's muscles and tendons around, but the mental part isn't so
easy."
"Don't short-change yourself, Sweetie," I said, waxing professorial, "You have
natural skills. It's a pleasure just watching your lips move."
Ooops...
Kitty's smile turned up to about a million watts, and she was off her stool
and beside me where I sat in a second, with her arms around my neck, her lips
planted on mine, a hand behind my head, one long arm wrapped around my back
pressing her chest into mine.
I just couldn't resist enjoying it for a few seconds. When seconds became a
minute I decided it should stop, and I started to make protesting noises,
pulling my lips away from hers. Her hand pressed my head back to my lips and
my garbled words interfered with our kiss, making her pull back, smiling
softly.
"Mmmm... I'm glad you like my lips, Doc; I've been watching yours all year."
She moved around and pushed herself between my legs, pressing herself more
directly against my chest and hips. I made to push her away, but she kept her
arms around my back and seemed to ignore my efforts.
"Now Kitty, you're very lovely...," I stammered a little as she pressed her
huge breasts to my chest. I was pushing against her shoulders, without any
real effect, ".....but really, you have to stop. Let me go..."
"Aw Doc, you don't want me to stop. You should have seen your face when I sat
with you naked. Your eyes were black as mirrors, and your cheeks so red. You
want me bad, Doc, and we both know it."
She pressed my head to her again, slowly, playing with my lips as I mumbled
further protests, but then gave in to her. I 'let' her kiss me nicely, her
tongue playing with mine, her arms wrapping tighter around me, my arms
naturally wrapping gently around her broad back.
"That's nice Doc," she cooed, "See, you want it, don't you? You want Kitty to
fuck your brains out, don't you Baby?"
