Can I Rub It For You?

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This is my first story.

It is a slow burn.

I've lurked this site for a while, so its inspired by some of the stories I've read, but is entirely the work of the author.

I apologize for any spelling/grammar mistakes. I did my best, but there is a lot of going back and forth in tense - which is tricky.

I hope you enjoy and will leave comments if you do.

...

Annie was working in their room when Michele had come hobbling through the door tears running down her cheeks. For a moment Annie had just watched, not sure what was happening; why Michele was crying.

The girls weren't close, but were friendly. Annie hoped that they would become friends, that Michele might help ease the way for her socially at their new school. Both had transferred in as sophomores. Michele who was 19 had come from a school Down South. Annie, who was a year younger, had transferred in from an accelerated program for "the gifted". So both were starting out the year on their back foot socially. Michele, who was a head taller than Annie, had thick beautiful brown hair that Annie coveted, was athletic, stylish, and was gorgeous to boot. And while Annie believed she was pretty too, she was pretty in a pixie way. Shy, with short cropped blonde hair (a recent experiment with bangs gone horribly wrong) and a slight frame, she wasn't even boyish compared to her roommate's womanly frame. She was little-boyish. Not a head turner like Michele.

After just a little over a week of knowing her, Annie already idolized Michele. Self-confident and socially assertive, but not vain or snarky, Annie felt she was strong in a way that she would like to be. But here she was flush and in tears.

Annie stood, her arms hanging uselessly at her sides. Michele had her hair pulled back in a thick pony tail and was in running gear - a tight white tank top over a sports bra, little red short-shorts, and clunky beige trail-runners. Her legs were spattered and smeared with mud. "Did you fall?"

"No!" Michele almost bellowed, then drew in a sharp breath, tears beginning to stream down her face. "I mean I did, but it's not", she sucked in another breath. "My legs are cramping!" she hissed through gritted teeth as she stumbled forward.

"Lay down!" Annie urged her. Michele toppled face down onto her bed, her feet hanging off the end of the bed, her legs twisting flexing with the cramps. Annie started grabbing her shoe and ankle, preparing to pull it off, but stopped, suddenly unsure of of herself.

"Can I rub it for you?"

Michele, face buried in her pillow was now sobbing, but Annie squeezed her ankle and Michele nodded her head in the affirmative. That was enough.

Annie's only experience with massage was rubbing her mother's stiff neck after a long work day, and sometimes her feet to help her relax while they sat together watching TV together on the couch. This was something entirely beyond Annie's ken.

Annie knelt at the end of Michele's bed and quickly pulled her shoes and socks off. Unlike the idle foot rubs she gave her mother to relax, Michele was writhing in pain her feet bunched up like fists. Annie grabbed her feet and began to squeeze and rub them both with all the force she could muster. She pressed much harder then she would ever would have dared using on her mother's feet.

She could feel corded tendons through the soles of Michele's arches and used her thumbs to grind into them. Michele, her face still buried in her pillow, cried out, but didn't protest, so Annie pressed on. Still kneeling at the end of the bed, she began working even harder into the arches of her friend's feet with all the strength she had, then using the heal of her hand to stretch Michele's curled toes, and using both hands to hinge each her frozen ankles as best she could.

Rising onto her knees, Annie began to work her hands up Michele's calves. She brushed away dry mud and jealously admired the other girl's long muscular legs. Her skin was perfectly smooth and still tan from summer. Annie burned easily and jokingly described herself as "skinny fat" feeling her own skin was pasty and doughy. Her hands looked suddenly tiny and pale; bird like and inadequate against Michele's bucking calves.

Shaking off the harsh thoughts, Annie focused on squeezing as hard as she could. Her forearms ached with the strain but she felt like she was hardly having any effect on the stronger girl. She wished was stronger. She worked the cramping muscles as best she could, sweating and grunting with the effort. Like her feet, the tendons in Michele's calves felt rigid, her muscles spasmed, fighting Annie.

With Michele's feet still hanging off the side of her bed on either side of her, Annie did her best to work both legs at the same time. But more often than not she needed both hands for one leg, or to abandon the calves altogether, in order to return to the work of pulling open Michele's cramping feet. But slowly Annie worked her way upward, pressing her hips into the mattress, reaching forward as far as she could.

Annie wiped sweat from her lip and climbed aydın escort (http://www.escortkizrehberi.com/ilan-kategori/aydin-escort/) onto the foot of the bed, kneeling again, but now on the mattress between Michele's legs. Annie wasn't sure, but she thought she could feel the other girl beginning to relax. If nothing else she had finally stopped sobbing.

Now, rather than kneading and grinding with all her force, Annie began to rub and massage more gently, working from Michel's toes upward; straddling one leg and then the other. She allowed her hands to climb a bit higher now, less and less worried with each pass that her feet would begin to spasm again.

Clearly the crisis passed, Michele was breathing deeply, almost as if asleep. She made no move to try and get up or otherwise end the massage however, so Annie continued. The only time Michele would shift, even slightly, was as Annie shifted from stranding one leg to the other.

Allowing herself for the first time to reflect on what she had done. Annie felt curiously proud of herself, like a hero - something she was very unaccustomed to feeling. But she also realized, now that it was no longer an emergency, how much she was enjoying messaging Michele.

Annie had always thought her mother was beautiful, and loved touching her, making her feel good. The neck and foot rubs she had given her were discrete, however, not like what she found herself doing now. As she worked up and down Michel's long legs in turn she found the contact itself pleasurable - even erotic.

Annie wondered why she had never massaged any of the boys she dated - it wasn't a long list, 'three' she thought glumly. Part of the problem was that the boys she seemed comfortable with were as timid as she was. She had been too afraid of things going "too far" to allow any of them to do much more than kiss and grope, and paralyzed by the idea of instigating anything herself. But as she pressed into Michel's thigh, she was enjoying the feeling of her legs in her hands, the skin on skin, pressing into her muscles, the idea of the pleasure she was giving. She realized with a start that she was getting turned on.

Until then, Annie had been cooling down from the heat of the hard work of the crisis, but now she felt herself blush with sudden embarrassment. She had been so lost in the effort and then the pleasure of what she was doing, but now she looked down at Michele with new eyes. Her face was still hidden from view, buried in her pillow. And while her breathing was heavy and slow - still hadn't stirred - Annie was sure however that she wasn't asleep. Michel's jaw was clenching. Her arms, wrapped around her pillow above her head, were flexing, her hands squeezing the pillow as Annie continued to massage her legs.

Watching the pulses of Michele's fists, clenching and unclenching, Annie felt her own breathing shorten, become a little shaky. Her stomach seemed to fill with heat as her wrapped-hands moved up the back of Michel's thigh. She let them climb higher now than she had been before, sliding upwards until her fingers were just brushing the red hem of the running shorts; she felt lightheaded. Again she worked her way down, feeling herself relax as she did, almost as if she were moving away from danger.

She studied Michele as her hands moved slowly up again. The muscles of her bare shoulders were better defined than any of the boys she'd dated. And while her back was muscular and sculpted, her chest and waist were narrow and delicate. Down and up her hands moved, pressing inward, feeling abruptly cool and oddly light as they climbed - as if they had bird bones.

Annie started to rise. Intending to stop but Michele seemed to anticipate she was just switching legs again, she shifted. Annie watched as Michele's back arched ever so slightly, lifting her ass a tiny fraction, almost imperceptibly parting her legs. 'Making room for me', Annie thought.

Annie went still, hovering there, watching the red shorts shifting. Admiring Michele's hips and round muscular ass. 'Plump' she thought, surprising herself.

Annie placed her hands on either side of Michel's hips. Suddenly aware of how quiet the room had become; the failing light. Twilight was falling. Climbing off her right leg Annie let her head droop and elbows flex. Her face very close to the small of Michele's back, and those red shorts. She listened as Michele take a shallow stuttering breath.

...

Annie was awake. Something had awaken her, mate a sound but she wasn't sure. She lay still, wide awake, listening to the darkness.

After 'the massage' things had been awkward with Michele. She had thanked Annie as she gathered her dap kit and towel. Limping out of the room towards the showers, but not once had she looked Annie in the eye.

Watching after her, wondering if she had misread what had happened, wishing she had had the courage to act, and at the same time berating herself for being a weirdo and a pervert. Her face hot with shame, she was sure Michele hated her; thought she was a creep. She had made a fool of herself.

Not able to face further aydın escort bayan (http://www.escortkizrehberi.com/ilan-kategori/aydin-escort/) embarrassment, Annie had thrown on a light jacket and rushed out of the room, heading down the hall away from the bathrooms, away from the stupid mistake she'd made. Once outside, she stood in the crisp evening air fighting back tears. The quad was mostly empty. Besides a few shadowy figures crossing in the distance, everyone was at dinner. A boy's loud laugh was abruptly cut short as a door slammed.

She'd took a deep breath, gathering herself in the privacy of the gloom, and deciding what to do, headed to the cafeteria.

When Annie arrived the hall was filled and noise with students talking loudly and laughing, the clatter of flatware and trays, the clanging bangs from the kitchen crew. While she hadn't missed dinner, she'd missed the rush. There was no line. Getting herself a tray she went down the line, trying to remember what things Michele liked. She wasn't hungry, but made herself a small salad as well.

Checking out, the woman at the registered looked at her as she hander over her meal card. "Are you all right?"

The tears threatened to return, but Annie took a deep breath, pushing them down. "Home sick", she lied.

The woman handed back her card with both hands, touching Annie's hand and smiling. "It only feels like it will never get better, but it will."

"Yes mam", Annie did her best to smile "Thank you."

Annie found a place to sit and forced herself to eat the salad. She didn't hurry, she wasn't anxious to get back to the rom. No one else stopped her, or tried to talk to her, no one else even knows me she thought glumly.

When she got back to the room Michele was already in bed and the lights were off, but the shades were still open. The halogens from the quad threw enough dappled light through the trees to light the room in patches.

Michele had an old pair of button up men's pajamas, like something Dick Van Dyke might have worn. She was laying on her side facing the wall, the cuffed sleeve covering her face, her hand draped like sculpture over the waves of her hair.

As quietly as she could Annie put the tray of food and drinks on Michele's desk, she kicked off her shoes, striped out of her jeans and socks, took a careful look around the room, and pulled down the shades. Rather then let her eyes adjust to the darkness, she shuffled slowly to her bed, careful not to knock into any of the things she's seen before drawing the shades.

Sleep had not come easily. For along time Annie had lain in the dark, eyes open, staring at the ceiling, listening to Michele breathe. She was sure she wasn't going to be able to fall sleep, but at some point she must have - because here she was in the darkened room listening; wondering what had woken her up. She heard it then, a tiny high pitched grunt of pain.

She turned her head to look, her eyes fully adjusted to the darkness. The light from the edges of the shades was more than enough to see Michele was silently twisting on her bed, her hands holding her right leg which was pointing like a ballerina, but rigid, her mouth held in an O of pain. Annie jumped out of bed and rushed across the gap, kneeling, she put her hands over Michele's, feeling the spasming muscle beneath.

"Can I rub it for you?" She whispered. She knew she was begging, and wondered if Michele knew.

Michele released her leg, turning her face into her pillow, and nodded.

Again she started with Michele's foot. Working at the knotting tendons, flexing the toes and ankles. Michele was stronger than she was, and her arms were still sore from earlier, so it was still hard work, but she was thankful it was only the one leg this time.

Keeping one hand working her foot, she used the other to begin kneading her calf, which was bare. Michele had either kicked her pajama bottoms off or more likely had just been sleeping in the button up shirt. As it was, Annie was glad not to have them in her way as she worked upwards. She felt how hard the thigh was cramping and knew Michele must be in terrible pain. As soon as the foot was relaxed enough to uncurl, she climbed onto the mattress and straddled Michele's leg, using both her hands working Michele's Michele's calf and thigh.

The crisis was over almost as suddenly as it began. Annie felt Michele's leg relax under her and with some relief was able to focus on more than what she was doing with her hands. Without stoping her work, she really looked at the wider chaos of Michele's bed for the first time. The covers had been pushed to the floor at the end of the bed, and the fitted sheet was partly off the mattress. Michele's old man pajama tops had become unbuttoned and were pushed up to the middle of her back. And like a blow to the head Annie realized Michele was totally naked from the waist down..

She stared, mouth open, but her hands never stopped massaging Michele's leg. Climbing and retreating her hands rubbed the muscles of Michele's thigh while she was trying to gather her scattered thoughts.

As escort aydın (http://www.escortkizrehberi.com/ilan-kategori/aydin-escort/) she stared at Michele's naked ass she remembered hovering over the small of Michele's back earlier, looking at those red shorts, her paralysis, and her regret as she slowly pulled herself upwards and stepped off the bed. Her shame when Michele refused to look her in the eye.

Her hands continue to massage but her mouth grew wet and her belly warm as she stared at Michele's bare ass. Again her hands worked up Michele's thigh, as they neared her ass Annie felt light headed again, her mouth filling with saliva and her breath became so short she could hardly breath.

Releasing her hold on Michele's leg, Annie leaned forward, placing her hands on either side of Michele's bare hips. Letting her head droop, she bent her elbows, until she knew Michele would be able to feel her breath on the small of her back.

Everything went still and quiet. In the darkness Annie waited, her face was close enough that she felt the heat rising off Michele's skin. Her breath, shallow and ragged, out and in and slowly out again. She felt Michele move. It was a tiny shift, hardly a movement at all, but Annie's whole attention was focused on it. She sensed, as much by the change in temperature against her face as through the mattress with her hands, the shift. Michele was arching her back again, rolling her ass upwards, ever so slightly spreading her legs.

Placing her weight on her toes Annie lifted her knees off the mattress. Balanced there, on all fours above Michele's beautiful bare backside. She felt like she was made of glass as climbed off Michele's right leg, and carefully settled back down over her left leg. She took a beep breath though her nose as she settle back onto her haunches and then began caressing the back of Michele's other calf. Barely pressing in with her thumbs, Annie wrapped her fingers as far around as they could reach, stroking upwards then retreating. Squeezing harder as she moved down the leg then up, in an effort to slow herself; to stop herself from rushing back up. Only when her hands had reached Michele's achilles' tendon, her wrists pressing against her panties, would allow herself to begin the slow caress upwards again.

As she worked upwards Annie watched Michele, the small movements of her ribs as she drew breath, the curve of her back upwards to her full round ass. Annie had always been self conscious of her own butt. It wasn't big or wide, nothing on her was, but it stuck out - it always had. Boys had made fun of her in school, calling her "bubble butt". Looking at Michele's bubble butt, the way it rose up from the small of her back, heavy and powerful looking at the top of her thighs, Annie shivered. She wondered if her butt looked as sexy as Michele's.

She found her gaze dropping until she was staring into the darkness between Michele's legs, trying but failing to pull detail from those shadows. She wondered again what Michele wanted and felt a jolt of excitement and fear. Annie wasn't even sure what she wanted herself. That, she supposed, is what had paralyzed her before, she hadn't known what to do. She blushed with shame of the memory.

She wished Michele would tell her what to do. She thought of the way her mother would direct her when she rubbed her neck or massaged her feet, almost order her. 'She was so strict'.

Annie wanted to ask Michele, beg her, but she was afraid to break the silence; to disturb the stillness. Still, she wished Michele would move again or make a sound, give her some sign, but she lay so entirely still now, so quiet, almost as if she were hiding.

Again the minutes seemed to stretch on as Annie caressed and massaged the healthy left leg. As before, Annie moved slowly upwards. Whenever her hands reached the top of her stroke she dared herself to let them climb just a bit higher, feeling herself go still each time. Her hands felt light, like birds, in those moments of daring. And while Michele's stillness was at first disquieting, the absoluteness of it began to emboldened Annie. She was holding so still, keeping so quiet, Annie decided, the stillness was itself an action. She might as well have been flailing and yelling.

As she thought this, she felt her index finger brush against Michele's sex.

She froze. Expecting a gasp, or for Michele to jerk away, but nothing. The only sound was a fabric scrape. Michele's fists were twisting the linen of her pillow as she pressed her face deeper into the cushion.

Annie looked at the girl spread out in front of her as she shifted her left hand off her thigh and onto the mattress to take her weight. Leaning forward she slowly stroked upwards with her right hand. It was just a feathers touch, but as her hand rose some liminal barrier was breached and Michele slicked the edge of Annie's finger. Annie felt something give way in herself as well.

Hovering over Michele early, looking down at the scarlet red of her running shorts, Annie had felt paralyzed. Holding her breath, she had wondered what she should do; had hoped for inspiration to strike. Rather than an inspiration, she'd heard her mother bark "Annie!" in disapproval - as clear as if she had been in the room. She had quickly climbed off Michele's leg and retreated to her desk in shame. But now she felt shame give way like something liquid, felt it drain away; replaced by a kind of thirst.