Jean was doing such a half-assed job because she was tracking Toby’s every move as he worked down the main area of her back, under the bikini strap at he shoulder blades, and down to the waist of the tiny bikini panty. Toby was deliberately businesslike, but she wasn’t fooled — besides, this was the most intimate she’d been with a man in years! She smiled crookedly at the realization that at this moment, for her purposes Toby WAS a man, his age notwithstanding … When he was apparently done with her back, she sat back a bit and began gingerly working on her stomach.
Toby put an end to it. "Jeez, you might as well not even bother!" he rasped, the soul of professional disgust. "Give me an arm…" Jean looked at him in wonder and raised her left arm. Toby took it at the wrist and proceeded to ensure that the underside was handled, starting at the wrist and working his way down the arm past the elbow, on to her ticklish upper arm, and into the armpit area. "It’s a wonder you don’t have zebra stripes instead of freckles," he grunted, feigning exasperation.
Jean found herself with an arm held high while cool fingers applied lotion along her side and in the sensitive boundary area beside her left breast. She tensed, and started to say something, but Toby was doing a consummate job of pretending professional detachment…
Toby was having the time of his life! This arm thing, properly handled, might allow him to steal second, at least! But he had to be careful; if he wandered too far, too early, she would freak … Still, he was perfectly justified in covering the side-swell of her little titty as he snugged the lotion coverage up to that tiny cup…
Jean was tracking every millimeter by eye and by skin receptor — but Toby did exactly what was necessary and no more, which was plenty for both of them. Jean realized that she was oiling up somewhere that wouldn’t see sun; her pussy was damp, and starting to feel puffy as she reacted to Toby’s mastery of the situation. Toby, pretending indifference, merely switched sides…
Toby profiled himself as he circled the lounger, though; his trunks, impressively tented, passed in front of Jean at eye level, giving the lie to his apparent indifference. Jean continued to face forward while surrendering her right arm to his ministrations, reprocessing the image that burned into her retinas as he passed — that bulge was HUGE!
None of Toby’s heavy weapons was visible to the casual observer; his intellect was papered over by his shyness, for instance. No one would ever pick him for a stud out of a line-up; Jean was probably the first woman ever to discover Toby’s big gun — and it WAS a big gun! Jean stole another glance; was it the trunks? Toby’s penis, as outlined, looked bigger than Hugh’s had been! She was getting carried away — yeah, that was it — she was letting a seventeen-year-old boy arouse her, for God’s sake! Her objectivity was shot … But he was working below her arm again, verging on her right breast, and it was tingling, begging for more. This time, instead of watching him, she closed her eyes and traced the touch of his fingers, part of her wishing that he would go for it…
Toby was in Heaven; he might not have played with her nipples, exactly, but he’d gotten the feel of a bit of the silky outside surface of both of Mrs. F’s titties — something nobody ELSE had done lately, apparently! He worked over her ribs and down her right side, stopping at the panty line. "Lie back," he directed, gruffly.
Jean was moving before she realized it, settling back onto the lounger — but Toby had second thoughts! "Oops! Sit up again! Turn to one side…" Jean sat back up, turning toward the other two boys and putting her feet on the deck, still wondering why she was reacting to Toby without thinking. Toby took a dollop of lotion, warmed it in his hands and, taking a deep breath, stepped up behind Jean and started smearing it from her shoulders down over the top of her chest.
Jean froze — not for the reason that Toby expected, but rather because when his hands started drifting down her chest, she almost went boneless, instinctively, which would have ended up with her leaning against him and him cupping her breasts! Toby was careful, but Jean didn’t move; instead, she looked up at the other two boys, who were both watching the action like hawks! Lon, in particular, seemed to be growing fangs as she watched — but Lon wasn’t running things, here — it was Toby’s hands that were drifting over the upper slopes of her breasts. He was almost done before she cleared her throat gently and asked in a scratchy voice, "Are you sure you ought to be doing that?"
Toby froze, but he didn’t withdraw. Instead, he shrugged. "You didn’t." Then he resumed tracing the edge of her bikini cups with lotion-slick fingers, absently analyzing the smoky tone of Mrs. F’s voice … He had an ungodly fine view right down into those cups — God! What a sight! Serious willpower was required not to overdo things … Stepping back, he repeated his earlier command, "Lie back."
Jean did as she was told — it was too late to quibble. Besides — and she admitted it to herself as Toby circled to her right and squatted to begin oiling her belly — she was aroused! Control of this little experiment was out the window; if the other two boys weren’t sitting there, she just wasn’t sure exactly where she would have intervened to stop Toby, if at all! The box she kept physical desire locked in was wide open; it was behind her, pinning her to the lounger in order to ensure that Toby had all the time he needed to move his magic fingers over the supposedly G-rated gap between the underside of her breasts and her panty line like an invisible genie…
Toby leaned in and covered the center areas, sliding his hands all the way around the sides, blending the coverage at the thin fat pad of her small love handles. Jean inhaled and got a nose full of male — raw, aroused, powerful male pheromones! She could smell his armpits, and she could smell the juices simmering in his crotch as his cock strained and heavy balls on full alert made his crotch a sweaty pool. Her nostrils distended; in that moment, she wanted Toby so bad it hurt! Then his slick fingers were tracing the undersides of her breasts…
Toby wasn’t the only one who was whiff, and Jean wasn’t the only one affected by smell. Toby had never smelled the aroma that drifted up as he leaned over Mrs. F’s lap — but that didn’t keep him from knowing what it was! He had her on the run! He owned her! Deliberately, he slid his slick fingers under the tiny strap between her breasts, knowing that she was going to do NOTHING about it…
Only her sunglasses saved Jean; if Toby had seen her eyes, he’d have been all over her. As it was, she hissed in a breath, but didn’t move as his fingers traveled areas on the lower slope of her breasts that even the tiny triangles of the top were big enough to protect. If he’d gotten braver, he could have had her nipples in that moment, but the other two boys' presence inhibited him.
Shifting to the lower boundary, he began again, covering the required area diligently — and then deliberately making a border incursion, running his fingers deep enough under the waistband of the tiny panty to brush the upper edge of her pubic fur. Jean let it happen; at that point, if he had driven directly for her clitoral hood, she’d have allowed it. The fluids inside her vaginal opening were boiling!
"Spread your legs," Toby ordered in a husky voice, "Put your feet on the deck on either side of the chair."
No woman in her right mind would have followed that instruction — but Jean did! And she watched, bug-eyed, as Toby took possession of her right thigh, oiling the inner surface right up into the area that she’d just applied witch-hazel to after her shave! The hollow there, where the tendons connected to her pubic bone … Toby was millimeters from her labia, working at the edges of a bikini panty whose crotch was already visibly soaked with what could only be Jean’s own fluids.