The Last Straw (new 7/3)

[neverdoubted]

Locking the door, I caught up to my soon-to-be bathing beauty standing silently in the middle of the bathroom. She was hugging her middle with her eyes cast to the floor. Her hands were trembling.

She wasn't the only one whose nerves were bothering her. There was a pit in my stomach even as my erection throbbed in my shorts. I had been drooling over Mary Jane’s soft, round, feminine form for years. And my hands itched to finally sample the parts of her anatomy which had been exposed to my roaming eyes these past few days but had always been forbidden. The anticipation alone drove me wild with desire.

"I, uh, bought you a present," I said, holding out my gift. Mary blinked once, then took the small package I had prepared.

Plugging the drain of the tub, I turned on the spigots to start drawing her bathwater while she fiddled with the string of her gift. Opening my duffel, I looked inside at the three flowers I had "picked". I didn't know enough to identify them, but the blossoms were pretty and in full bloom. But with dirty roots and wilting leaves all up and down the stems, they were in no condition to present to her. Instead of trying to make a puny bouquet, I carefully plucked the silky petals and set them afloat in the tub.

"Oh," Mary gasped when she got the package open and saw the fancy vial of mysterious liquid. There was also a little cube - white, with purple specks.

"This is scented bubble bath," I explained, opening the vial and pouring some into the tub for her. Foamy bubbles immediately formed on the water’s surface.

"And this is English Lavender," I said, picking up the cube. Tipping my hand, it fell into the water with a satisfying "plop".

Noticing the flower petals for the first time, her face lit up, "Oh, Frankie, everything's so...thoughtful. I-I don't know what to say."

As aromatic tendrils of steam wafted up to her nose, she forgot her nervousness and eyed the tub impatiently.

"No need to say anything," I assured her, as I held out my hand to help her into the tub, "please, be my guest."

She was too preoccupied to notice my own hungry grin of anticipation. She knelt in the middle of the tub, the bubbles rising around her legs, while I put down a towel and knelt on the dry tile beside it. With her voice trembling, she asked, "so...what now?"

The last time someone else had given her a bath had probably been at least a dozen years ago. And that had likely been her mother. Certainly not a teenage boy!

The steam caressing her bare body gave the scene a dreamlike quality. My libido ached to reach down and squeeze her bulging breasts - to finally know what they felt like after all these years of fantasizing. But struck by a sudden, acute shyness, I couldn't go through with it. Stalling, I picked up a small, plastic rinsing cup instead and scooped up some of the water.

"Why don't you, uh, tell me about your day," I offered, as if I were talking to an acquaintance at school and not a fantasy in the flesh. She sighed when I lifted the cup to her neck and poured the steaming water down her back.

Wetting the washcloth, I ran it up and down her spine while she - now that the ice had been broken - proceeded to recount her day at the fair. Unlike her middle sister, she had not been forced to attend the exhibition in the nude. She had traded her bathing duties to me in exchange for a temporary outfit. So far, she didn't seem to mind that trade.

Too timid to move beyond that one spot, I alternated between pouring water down her back and cleaning it with the cloth while she told me which hangars she had visited and what she had eaten for lunch. I think it helped to give her something else to focus on other than my hand rubbing up and down her bare body with only a thin cloth separating us.

There was plenty of water in the tub by now, and enough bubbles to last a week. Turning off the spigot, I worked up the courage to move onto her arms while she talked about the Pop Culture Pavilion in hangar four. To hear her describe it, it was really neat. I regretted that Bea and I had missed out on that one.

Reaching the top of her arms, I found her shoulders extremely tense. When I gave her knotted muscles a tentative squeeze through the wet cloth, her eyes fluttered shut and she grunted softly. Given the emotional weight she had borne these past few days, I shouldn't be surprised how much stress she was carrying on her shoulders.

Forgoing the washcloth, I reached out with both my trembling hands and initiated a little, impromptu massage. She flinched in response to the direct, skin to skin contact, then got very still.

"Sorry, I'm not very good," I admitted.

"No, don't stop," she replied, "it's nice."

Encouraged, I kept going for a couple minutes. With neither of us talking, the room was silent as a grave. But with each gentle knead, I could still feel the tension seeping out her. She jumped visibly when I pierced the silence with another question.

"Did you meet anyone?"

"Uhhhh..."

Though I don't think she meant for me to sense it, I detected a subtle squirm just then. It was a new experience being able to pick up on her non-verbal signals through my sense of touch alone. New and...interesting.

"A few guys did try to talk to me but-"

I didn’t need her to finish her sentence to guess what had happened. She had been wearing a pair of shorts so small that she couldn't even close the zipper. And her top, if you could even call it that, was a sleeveless, plaid vest without buttons. After tying the tails together over her ample, braless chest, she was bursting out all over. When the hottest girl at the fair is walking around by herself in the skimpiest outfit imaginable, you better bet every single guy in the place is going to try and talk to her. Probably even a few who aren't single, too!

Ending her massage, I reached for the washcloth and scooped up another cupful of water. This was it! I had finally gathered enough courage to move to her front, or so I hoped. My hand was shaking so badly that I spilled most of the water along the way.

"I know why they were trying to talk to you," I croaked out, "you're just so b-beautiful."

Mary gasped at my kind words just as I tipped the cup over. She demurred - shaking her head and bowing it bashfully as the pleasantly warm, lavender-scented water cascaded down her front to coat her breasts in a soapy sheen. Despite my compliment, her deep-seated insecurities were rearing their ugly heads. Could anything ever convince this girl how stunningly beautiful she really was?

With a gulp, I raised the washcloth to her collarbone and began a downward swipe. I probably should have followed up with a reinforcing word. But I lost all train of thought when my hand reached its ultimate objective. Ever since I looked through that tiny gap in her dress at church and spotted her brand-new bra all those years ago, I had fantasized about touching Mary's rapidly swelling anatomy.

I stared agape, as if gazing into the majestic vastness of space. My eyes struggled to accept that it was my palm cradling her full, bulging breast in the washcloth; that those were my fingers wrapped gently around her delicate pink tip. The sensation is hard to describe. It was warm and dense and supple and soft all at the same time. It was thrilling and terrifying and...better than I ever imagined. It was the greatest moment in my life!

I was frozen because my brain had stopped sending signals to the rest of me. In the awkward silence, Mary looked up to find me gawking, quite rudely, at her naked chest. With a soft, strained voice, she made a humbling admission.

"...they're too big, aren't they?"

Snapping out of my reverie, I looked into her troubled face. Could her self image be any lower? It's like she had never left that kindergarten playground. The boys' cruel taunts of "plain Jane, plain Jane" still echoed in her ears these many years later.

"t-t-t-too big?!" I exclaimed, in disbelief, "Are you kidding? Mary...THEY'RE PERFECT!"

"Oh!" she replied, her cheeks turning bright red. As I moved the cloth down her ribcage and onto her stomach, she lowered her head to look at herself anew. Had no one told her how fantastically amazing her flawless body was? Or no one she respected enough to actually believe?

When she tilted her head up at me, she was smiling ear to ear and her eyebrows were raised. Her face, full of hope, was beaming. When my hand reached the water line, I re-wetted the cloth then poured another cupful over her shoulder.

As I raised my hand to her neck and began another trip down her broad chest, she adjusted her posture and sat up a little straighter - swelling her perfect breasts to their maximum size and ensuring their easy access to my helping hand. I was fascinated when I got to the midway point and felt the stiff little nub of her nipple poking into my palm as I slid past!

My infatuation surged – as did my erection. I eagerly repeated the process, over and over, like a kid who's discovered his favorite slide on the playground and never wants to leave it. I couldn't begin to guess how many times I ran that cloth across her bared chest. I would probably still be there to this day if there hadn't come a knock at the door.

"…Frankie?...Mary?"

"Go away, Bea," I called out.

"...just making sure everything is ok in there...Mary?"

Of course she would want to hear it directly from Mary. With a growl, I was about to yell something about Bea minding her own business. But Mary gently placed her hand on my forearm. It was a move her mother sometimes used to try and calm Frank.

"It's ok," Mary called out to reassure her worried sister before softly adding to me, "it's late and the water was getting cold anyway. Rinse me off?"

There were so many other parts of her that I had wanted to wash than just her boobs. I gritted my teeth, fully intending to make Bea pay for being so nosy and killing the mood. Just when things were getting good! But then Mary handed me the rinsing cup and stood up to wait patiently in the middle of the tub. And I got sidetracked watching the lazy suds slide down her shiny, naked body.

Still angry, but temporarily distracted, I stood up. Pouring one cup at a time over her, I revealed the stretches of smooth, tantalizing flesh that had been hiding beneath the soap. When she was squeaky clean and sud-free, I helped her step out of the tub and handed her a towel. She dried herself off while I pulled the plug and started the water draining. Wrapping the towel around her, she addressed me.

"Thank you, Frankie," she said, surprising me with a hug, "for the present, and the shoulder rub, and the flowers, and...everything! Oh, I don't know what I would do without you."

The bath certainly hadn't gone as I expected - about a million times better, in fact. As I escorted her back to the door, I tried to figure out what I had done to make it all go so right.

At that age, I was mostly too afraid to talk to girls. The few times I had approached one, trying to offer a kind word or pay her a compliment like I thought boys were supposed to, it had always ended in failure. It's like they could sense I was trying too hard or engaging in ingenuous flattery. They never let their guard down.

But something was different this time. Sure, I had given her a nice present and gone out of my way to pamper her. But unlike other girls, she hadn't dismissed my words as mere flattery. They had come so easily, from the heart, and had cost me nothing to share. Yet to Mary, those words were the most valuable gift of the night - perhaps the most valuable gift she had ever received.

While I wouldn't say her walls had fully come down, something had changed between us. Living under the same roof all those years, I was already semi-comfortable around her. But that didn't mean she would ever have let me bathe her or openly discussed certain intimate parts of her body. She had even let me wash her boobs! That proved just how close we had become. And I fully intended to use the new sleeping arrangement I had already told her about to reinforce that closeness.

I swung the door open to find a worried Bea peering inside for any sign of her sister. When Mary emerged - all clean, wrapped smartly in her towel and looking more relaxed than she had been on the entire trip – Bea’s tension faded. But it quickly returned when I emerged from the bathroom and directed a withering glare straight at her. Now that she was the only one naked in the group, she self-consciously draped her arms over her bare body and shrank back from me.

Cindy had chosen the area rug, the one spot in the room that didn't have bare wood flooring, to set up her bedroll. She was already tucked in. But she rolled over when she heard the bathroom door open.

"Is everything ok," she asked, craning her neck to see what was happening.

But I wasn't going to let myself be distracted by another nosy Conyor sister. I had a score to settle.

"Beatrice-bathroom-NOW," I said, pointing her toward the room behind me. Step into my office!

Bea flinched, then scrambled past me into the bathroom as ordered.

At that, Cindy sat up and cried, "Wait, where’s Bebe going? And why can't-"

"-ENOUGH MEDDLING," I snapped, cutting her off, "it's none of your business, Cindy. Now go to sleep!"

Cindy yelped like a dog that had been kicked in the ribs. Laying down, she rolled over and pulled the covers over her head. As I stomped across the room to retrieve my pack, I could hear her whimpering softly beneath the blanket. While Mary didn't say anything, I could also feel her silently judging me for being too harsh on the girl. In my defense, it really was none of Cindy's business. But that didn't justify my yelling at her.

Entering the bathroom, I turned my attention and my anger where it really belonged. It was all Bea's fault. If not for her meddling, I would be finishing Mary's bath right about now instead of stomping all over the motel room and making little girls cry.

She was standing in about the same spot Mary had been but swaying slightly. One of the longest and most stressful days in her life was catching up to her. To be honest, it was starting to catch up to me too.

As I eyed the tub, my throbbing erection was quick to remind me of another reason for my sour mood. If I could just take the edge off, I knew I wouldn't be going around biting everyone's heads off. But for that, I needed the one thing that had eluded me this entire trip: privacy.

I wasn't about to masturbate with her standing right there watching me. But I also couldn't send her back in with her sisters without handing out some kind of punishment first. I opened my pack to buy time and think.

A gorgeous naked teen made an excellent visual aid for my libido. Just having her stand there in the room would help me finish in record time. There was only one problem. I was too shy to take my clothes off in front of her to get in the bath. If only there were some way for me to look at her without her watching me… As the back of my hand brushed against my bandana, the solution presented itself!

It was a standard style, a large, red square of cloth with a white pattern on it. Pulling it out, I folded it over and over to make it into a blindfold. Bea's eyes went wide as I lifted the band to her face. But she did not stop me from tying it into place.

"Don't you dare take that off until I say," I ordered.

Returning to the pack, I pulled out her toothbrush, added a dab of paste, and shoved it into her hand.

"I got you a new toothbrush," I explained, "go brush your teeth."

Leaving her to figure out how to do that without the use of her eyes, I turned around and began to fill the tub. I never took baths anymore. But I was willing to make an exception for this special occasion.

Still blind, the naked girl stretched out one arm in front of her and shuffled in the general direction of the sink. Bumping into it, she worked out how to turn the faucet on and began to brush her teeth as instructed.

With fresh, hot water pouring into my tub, I started to undress myself in the safest way possible. But I paused when I got down to my underwear. As best I could remember, I had never been naked in the same room as a girl. It would be a huge step for any fourteen-year-old boy.

I stood and waited for her to finish brushing. When she bent over the sink to rinse out her mouth, the presentation of her smooth, sexy rump poured even more fuel onto my already roaring arousal. I was sticking straight out!

If the old Bea had ever caught my uncontrollable erection jumping for joy within its cotton cage, she would have never let me live it down. I would have simply died of embarrassment. Luckily as she left the toothbrush on the counter and turned to face the room to await further instructions, she showed no sign that she could see a thing. When I peeled the cloth away from my throbbing penis and lowered my underwear to the floor, she had absolutely no reaction. That's how I knew for sure that the bandana was working.

As I climbed into the half-filled tub and sat down, my impatient potency begged me to get down to action. I looked over at Bea and smiled. For a horny, teenage boy who hadn't masturbated in days, I couldn't ask a better visual aid than a beautiful, blossoming blonde - completely naked except for a red bandana wrapped around her eyes.

Her body was partially responsible for my uncomfortable erection. For that, it was fitting that she would have to play the role of eye candy for my pleasure session. But something about the arrangement still bothered me. Was it fair that all she had to do was stand there and look pretty while I did all the work?

"Come here," I ordered, making up my mind.

I reminded myself of all the times she had tortured me, even mocking me for being a normal teenage boy with needs and conjuring a cruel, demeaning nickname which she had intended to regularly wield against me. For that, she deserved a harsher punishment. And as my father always taught me, the punishment should fit the crime.

Bea shuffled blindly toward me; not stopping until her shins had found the outer rim of the tub.

"Kneel and give me your hand," I said, my voice shaking despite my best efforts to project authority.

She knelt on the tile and bent over the rim of the tub so she could stretch out her trembling hand. In this position, her bottom half was hidden from my sight. But most of her prominent breasts were still quite visible and her cute little nipples just peeked out at me over the porcelain rim.

Taking control, I tilted her arm down. As her hand reached my privates, her fingers reflexively wrapped themselves around my shaft - just the right shape for a teen girl to grip. She let out a loud gasp and froze while I reclined fully against the end of the tub.

Clasping my hands behind my head, I said, “you're my crankie now."

[student]

BEST LINE: "You're my crankie now."

Mary's bathing scene was tender.

Now to make up with Cindy. Poor junior sister feels abandoned, if not abused. What's a girl to do?

[Freesub]

The boobs barrier is broken! Will the boob touches become more common, and maybe eventually patting the heart down below?

[Diapal]

The bath scene was amazing!! Now I'm looking forward to the next part even more!!