For several weeks we lived platonically. We would watch television at night, chat about the day's events and go to bed in our separate rooms. Living in such close proximity, it was only natural that Peggy gradually crept into my masturbatory fantasies. That was surprising to me, but enjoyable. I began thinking about her during the daytime, too. Not about spending "forever" with her �?it was purely a physical attraction.

One night she began to prepare for a date. She had met some guy at work and he had asked her out. It was a first date thing....nothing major. Dinner and a movie or something.

She excused herself to go take a bath. We didn't have a shower in that old place, just an old tub. I had installed a telephone shower that attached to the tub spout, but we never used it as a real shower, just something to use to rinse off with.

I could hear the water running for her bath. I could smell the bath salts that she had poured in. Something just came over me. I got up from the couch, walked through my own bedroom and entered the bathroom where she was sitting in the tub.

She was covered in bubbles, so I didn't really get to see much. And, of course, she was totally shocked that I was there.

"I'm going to give you you're bath tonight," I said.

"I can bathe myself," she said.

I was listening close for the "no", but she didn't quite say that, so I persisted.

"I know you can," I said, "but I want to do it anyway.".

She sat perfectly still. I picked up the sea sponge that she beside the tub and placed it in the water. I started with her back…right in the center…slowly worked my way to her shoulders…her neck. Each time I moved the sponge to a different area, I did so hesitantly, waiting and fearing that she would stop me and tell me to leave.

Then I had her lie back in the tub. She covered her small breasts with her folded arms, not wanting me to see. I washed her arms. Gently I took one of her hands and slowly pulled it away from her chest, so that I could wash its entire length. She shuddered as the sponge approached the ticklish spots at the inside of her elbow, and her underarm.

I tilted her head back and gently washed her exposed throat. I moved to her other shoulder and washed that arm in the reverse order, starting at the shoulder and working my way slowly under her arm, down her upper arm, to her inner elbow…forearm…wrist…and finished with her hands. I washed each finger separately.

Then I moved back to her chest. She had not exposed herself to me yet. She was still hidden beneath a sheet of bubbles, but that cover of bubbles had thinned considerably. I could make out the outline of her torso and I could see her small breasts through the white translucence.

Starting at her neck again, I gently washed slowly down. Avoiding her breasts, I moved the sponge in slow circles on her stomach, and up her sides. Her muscles would tense each time I passed over her ribs. She may have been ticklish, but she didn't want to laugh. Her eyes remained closed and she just lay back and enjoyed my efforts.

I finally put aside the sponge, and lathered my hands. She opened her eyes to watch me as I rubbed the bar of soap between my palms. I placed my hands beneath her arms and pulled her up, exposing her breasts above the water line. With my lathered hands I began to massage her tiny breasts. Although the breasts were small, her nipples were remarkable. Small areolas, but the nipples were the "pencil eraser" type. They tickled my palms as I passed over them. I enjoyed the exploration. I could completely cover a breast with the palm of my hand. I would move my hand to the underside of her breasts, with my palm flat against her ribcage and use the web between my thumb and forefinger to support each breast, as though that portion of my hand were the under wire support of a bra. I would slide my hand up and massage the muscles that I could feel underneath her breasts, enjoying the sensation of her erect nipples on my palms as I did so.

But so far, I had only been concentrating on her torso. I had more to explore. I moved to her feet. Soaking in the soapy water had softened the skin. I lathered my hands again and began to massage her feet.

She ducked down into the warm water, covering her chest again, resting her head against the rim of the tub.

My hands were slippery as I massaged her feet. Using both hands, I worked the upper side of each foot with my fingers, while probing her soles with my thumbs. I would start at her heals, and using my thumbs and forefingers, I would squeeze her foot from heel to toe, finishing off by ministering to each of her tiny toes. I moved to her ankles. The Achilles tendon at the back seemed tight.

I stroked from ankle to knee. I made a band of my hands, circling her entire leg and pushing it up from ankle to knee, forcing the blood ahead of it toward her heart. I stopped at her knees. She seemed especially ticklish there. Not at the back of the knee, as I had expected, but where the tendon attaches to the front of her thigh, right above the kneecap. I had to slow down there. She seemed to jump each time I squeezed.

Gradually, I moved up her thighs. Again, I used both hands on each thigh, never letting my hands leave her skin.

I did not have to coax her to open her thighs. She knew I would not attack her most vulnerable spot unless and until she was ready. I worked on her thighs for as long as it took to feel the tension to completely leave her body. When everything else was done, I asked her to stand. Although I had washed at the juncture where her legs reached her torso, I had not touched her sex.

"No," she protested, "You'll see me."

"Yes," I said. "I will."

"Please."

Shyly, she let me help her to her feet. I pulled the plug in the tub to let the water drain. I lathered my hands again. Turning her to face the wall, I had her place her hands against it for balance. I positioned her legs about shoulder width apart, so that I could wash her bottom. No sponge here. I used my soapy hands. She jumped as my fingers brushed her anus. But she didn't move away.

I was in heaven. This was the most beautiful ass I had ever seen -- not that I had seen that many, except in magazines, but this one was right in front of my eyes. I couldn't believe that this was actually happening.

I continued to wash her. No penetration...this was a cleansing. I had an almost uncontrollable urge to spread her cheeks and taste what was before me, but I resisted.

By now the water had drained from the tub. I reached over and turned it on again, adjusting it to a comfortable temperature. With her standing in the middle of the tub, I began to rinse her. Starting at her neck, the water flowed over her rinsing away the soap and bathwater. As the white foam peeled away, it seemed as though a final covering of cloth was being removed. Although she had been naked all along, she was now truly exposed. Completely cleansed, as though everything that had happened before that moment in time had been melted and washed away down that drain. No woman in my life has ever appeared so virginal.

I reached behind me for a towel to cover her. I remember now that I started drying her by touching her eyelids. She had not been crying, but her lids were moist for some reason. With my hands behind the towel, I blotted her cheeks, which I remember were very flushed. Then her neck. Shoulders. Arms. I wrapped the towel around her torso, trying to cover her breasts and tuck the towel into itself, the way I have seen women appear after emerging from a bath. I was too clumsy with that and she had to help me.

With a second towel, I dried her legs, starting as high on her thighs as I dared to reach, and toweling toward her feet.

When she was dry, I took her by the hand and walked her back to her bedroom. I did not turn on the lights. I laid her back on her bed. And removed the towel. The hair on her pubis was as thick as the mane on her head. Bushy. I could wait no longer. I wanted her. She lay back with her eyes closed. She must have known what was coming. I spread her legs apart. We were in the dark. I could not see, so I cannot describe the appearance of her sex, and, of course, it lay hidden within that forest of luxurious fur. I knelt at the foot of her bed, her legs apart. I bent my head and turning my head to the right, placed my mouth on the inside of her left knee. Her skin was so soft. So clean. I am sure that I must have opened my mouth to taste it, but I honestly do not recall. Slowly I kissed my way up her inner thigh. Did I bite her? I think not. I may have been tempted, but this was too tender. I moved closer to that tenderest of all flesh, where her inner thigh meets the torso. Not the lips...but that skin that covers the large tendon there. It must have a name...that region ... what is it? I brushed my nose across her bushy mons as I continued on to the other side. That same spot, where the tendon is. Do you know it? At this point I know that I opened my mouth. I clasped the tendon in my teeth, not biting really. Not painfully so. But oh, how I wanted to.

I placed both of my palms on her inner thighs, not forcing her legs apart, for they already were. Just holding them where they were. I brought my hands slowly up to her sex. My thumbs were just at the margin of her outer lips. And I stroked her slowly with my thumbs. I moved the fingers of both hands to the top of her mons, my thumbs on her labia, and my forearms against the length of her inner thighs.

And finally I tasted her.

And my mind went into overload. This was something that I have never experienced, before or since. I cannot describe how she tasted. She was sweet. Not tangy. Not musty. Sweet. There is no other word. This was where I now wanted to be for as long as I could stay there. This treasure had been literally under my nose for months and I had no idea. I ate her hungrily. I licked. I stroked. I penetrated her with my tongue, my fingers. I moved my hands to the outside of her legs and had her wrap her thighs around my neck. Still I couldn't get enough. I couldn't get deep enough into her. The more I tasted, the more I wanted. The wetter she got, the sweeter she tasted.

And then �?the God Damned doorbell rang! And kept ringing. There we were, in her bedroom, naked, and her date had arrived.

I jumped up, put on my clothes and went out, and told the son of a bitch that she wasn't ready yet. He needed to come back in half an hour. I wasn't very nice about it. 

He went away and I headed back to her bedroom. But the moment had passed. We went no further that night. She got up and got dressed for her date. And I went to my room and stared angrily at the ceiling.

---

Author's note:

Every word of the above story is true. I wrote it all one night in a chat room at another group, later cutting and pasting all my posts together into a cohesive story. If I remember correctly, the process may have been part of a "Truth or Dare" game that we were playing that night. I think that almost everyone faded out before I finished writing. If my memory serves me correctly, there was only only one other person who stayed with me through the whole writing process.