The couch gets more personal

He rounded the coffee table and slowed for half as he looked at her out of the corner of his eye. From that angle, the loose leg holes of her shorts left very little to the imagination. The prominent curve of her ass was completely out from the hem before she shifted, rolling back onto her side, tucking her feet up as she moved to make room.

He dropped back onto his side of the couch again, reclaiming the same corner as before.

Natalie pulled her legs in, resembling her position when he first came in, except now she was closer, no longer propped up on the arm of the couch.

She settled in too, shifting partially onto her back instead. Her head rested near the arm of the couch, tilted just enough for her to keep an eye on the screen, while one arm lay across her stomach and the other hand behind her head. The thin stretch of her tank clung across her chest, bringing her nipples into focus once more. The new position allowing him to not only see the bumps, signifying their presence, and apparent state of being hard, but he could see a faint shadow giving away the outline of her areola through the top.

Aiden couldn’t help appreciating the fullness of her breasts, even as she laid on her back. The tight nature of the tank helped hold them in place a little bit, but it also created an impressive valley at the neckline where her cleavage stood, holding the material away from her sternum. The sight of her nipples and areola an added bonus for later, but further **** in the moment, having never seen them in such detail.

Her legs were still angled toward the TV, knees bent slightly, leaving her feet tucked close to his hip. The cut of her shorts left her thighs exposed, and with the way she was reclined, the curve of her ass was visible once more, similar to when he first sat down tonight. She didn’t seem to notice or care how much skin the position showed him.

“You’re hogging all the couch,” she said eventually, not looking at him.

He didn’t move. “You’re the one taking up all the space.”

Sipping her wine she responded, “It’s my couch. There’s a chair over there that you can sit in. And I was already here when you came home.”

Aiden let out a faint breath. “The chair is bad for watching TV. Besides, I didn’t realize I needed a reservation.”

“Well, after telling me not to wait up, leaving me to assume the couch was all mine for the night, yeah, you kinda do” she murmured, shifting slightly as though she were trying to get more comfortable. “And you’re still in my spot.”

One of her feet nudged his thigh, a gentle tap from her toes.

He glanced down at it, then at her. “You kicking me off now?”

“Just reminding you whose name is on the lease.”

Her foot pressed again, a bit firmer this time. She still hadn’t looked his way, but the corner of her mouth was curling up.

He reached down and brushed her ankle lightly with his knuckles. “You want me to move?”

She finally glanced over, as the smile started to spread. “I want the whole couch.”

He gave a quiet snort. “You’re drunk.”

Her toes dug into his side playfully. “And you’re in my spot.”

Aiden leaned slightly forward, setting his glass on the table. “You sure about that?”

Before she could respond, he reached for her foot and gave it a quick tickle along the arch. Natalie flinched, her leg pulling back with a sharp laugh as she nearly spilled her wine.

“Hey-” she started, trying to keep a straight face as she clutched her glass, “-you’re playing dirty now.”

He grinned. “You started it.”

“Because you’re crowding me.”

“I’m literally on the edge,” he said, gesturing to his corner.

“Your energy is crowding me,” she said flatly, though the laugh still clung to her voice no matter how hard she tried to hide it.

He reached for her foot again, teasing with just a fingertip this time. “Then I guess you’ll have to get used to it.”

Natalie tried to pull her leg away again, but he didn’t let go this time. His fingers curled firmly around her ankle, keeping her foot in his lap.

“You’re not ticklish there, are you?” he asked, running his thumb slowly along the curve just below her toes.

She gave a slight squirm. “Not usually. Depends on the hands.”

Aiden looked at her, then shifted his grip, letting his fingers slide more deliberately over the top of her foot. “What about here?”

Her breath caught, just slightly, more at the tone than the touch. “That’s… fine.”

He eased back into the cushion and let both hands work now, his thumbs moving in small, slow circles along her arch, then gliding toward the base of her heel. Her foot was warm and soft, and she let him keep it without protest.

“I didn’t peg you for the foot massage type,” she said, lifting her glass to her lips.

“You never asked.”

“Mm. That’s your excuse for withholding?”

“Well, did you?”

She finally looked down at where his hands were, watching while feeling his thumbs press in. Her toes flexed faintly with the motion. Then, without warning, she nudged her other foot into his lap too.

He looked down at her foot as it rested.

“I mean, if you’re going to spoil me…” she murmured. “Might as well finish the job.”

He gave a low chuckle and shifted to make room, one hand still on her first foot as the other adjusted to take the second. “So, if I act as your masseuse as well, does that mean I get to sit on the couch?”

“Sure, but don’t act like you’re not enjoying yourself,” she said, eyes on the screen again, though the smirk returned to her lips. “You started it,” she finished, once again echoing his earlier words back at him.

Aiden’s hands moved slowly over both of her feet, alternating pressure, thumbs circling in lazy patterns across her arches. Every now and then her toes flexed slightly in response. He let his hands wander, thumbs tracing the gentle rise toward the balls of her feet, then sweeping back again.

Natalie’s glass rested lightly against her bare stomach now, below the bunched-up hemline of her tank, reflecting how relaxed she was becoming. Her eyes lingered on the ceiling for a moment before drifting to him again. She didn’t say anything. Just simply watched him.

His hands slowed as he focused on her right foot, setting her left on his thigh. With both hands now dedicated to the one, his movements grew more deliberate. Thumbs pressed deeper, tracing along the arch, up along each toe. He brushed between them once and noticed her breath seemed like it stuttered. She took a slow sip of wine to cover it. Natalie let out a quiet, satisfied moan and tilted her head toward the screen.

“This movie still isn’t over?” she asked rhetorically.

Aiden glanced up, barely. “Feels like we’re on hour three.”

“I thought it was a comedy.”

“Might’ve been. Before they filmed it.”

She gave a soft snort, then took another sip of wine. Her eyes lingered on the screen a few more seconds before drifting back toward her foot where his hands were still moving.

She didn’t say anything else. Just let her head tip back again, glass resting lightly at her side now, as her own hand barely supported it, holding it against her. The sound of the TV took over once more. One foot stayed cradled in his hands, his thumbs working slow circles into her arch, while the other rested in his lap, the curve of her toes nudged lightly against the fabric of his sweats.

When his thumbs passed just under her toes again, her lashes fluttered even though her eyes were closed. She opened them to look away toward the muted glow of the TV once more. Her chest rose, in slow and steady rises, beneath the cling of her tank. The rayon blend had drawn tight again, her breasts pressed flatter from the way she lay, nipples seemingly a little more defined in the flickering light.

Her other foot shifted against his leg, toes brushing higher along the fabric of his sweats, but neither acknowledge it.

After a moment, she let out a soft hum. “You’re not half bad for a twenty-year-old boy.” Her voice had softened to a bit more of a sensual tone than he’d heard from her before.

His hands didn’t stop. “Boy?”

“That’s what I said.”

He glanced up at her unable to stop his eyes from catching on the bare curve of her ass where her shorts had ridden high again.

“Always so harsh,” he muttered.

She turned her head just enough to catch his expression. “Should I have said man?”

He looked back up once more. "I'd like to think so."

As he said it, she felt the quick, unmistakable twitch of his erection against her toes.

There was a momentary pause. It was accompanied by a look that flashed through her eyes for just a second before she took another sip of wine and looked away again. “Mmm. I’ll think about it.”

He adjusted his grip, gently lowering the foot he’d been working on and brushing his hand down the length of her arch one last time before letting go. He leaned forward, grabbing his wine to take a quick sip, before reaching for her opposite foot, still resting in his lap.

As he shifted, her toes pressed more fully into him, the firm shape of his erection was impossible to miss through the light fabric of his sweats. It was a calculated risk on his part, with every intention of her feeling him.

Neither of them acknowledged it. Not with a glance. Not with a word. But the tension that passed between them in that moment was unmistakable. And so, he sat back, cradling her left foot in both hands, and they both pretended it hadn’t happened.

Natalie shifted with him. The angle on the new foot started to torque her knee awkwardly, and so she eased onto her back fully now, both hips resting into cushion as she resettled. Left leg extending into his hands while the other bent at the knee, opening toward the ceiling as it leaned against the back of the couch in a relaxed sprawl, with her foot on the cushion. Her top was pulled snug against her with the shifting and repositioning. He had no doubt she had to be aware of how tight across her chest it was again. Her words were to clean and clear, without a hint of slur, for her to be too drunk to no know. Her nipples were now clearly outlined in the dim, flickering light from the TV, and a generous amount of cleavage on display.

He cradled her foot in both hands and started again, but slower this time. His thumbs pressed up the center of her sole, then traced down the sides with steady pressure, while his fingers simultaneously worked the top of her foot. The motion drew a faint exhale from her that he barely heard over the movie.

She didn't look at him. Just let her head fall gently to the side, away from the TV. Toward the back of the couch and away from the flickering lights. One hand rested high on her stomach at her solar plexus, rising and falling with her breath. The other still barely held her wine glass, gently gripping the stem.

“You’ve got good hands,” she murmured, quieter now, more to the cushions than to him. “Dangerous, maybe.”

He glanced up. “That a warning?”

“Just an observation.” A faint smirk tugged at her lips, but her eyes didn’t open and her head didn’t move.

Aiden let his thumbs trace slowly over the ball of her foot again, his touch lingering near the base of her toes.

“Still letting me do it.”

“Still good.” She sighed. Aiden could hear the words blend together at this point as she became more relaxed.

Aiden’s thumbs shifted upward, tracing along the pad beneath her toes before gently circling each one, with slow and careful intent. They flexed against the motion, the smallest twitch of sensation traveling up her leg, showing in the way her thigh tightened briefly, her breath catching on the inhale.

Then, just as he passed against the base of her smallest toe, her lips parted.

A faint sound escaped, more of a breathy exhale than anything else, and she caught it too late to stop. He didn’t seem to notice. Her eyes had opened just a sliver to check if he was aware. Peeking through her lashes, with the TV behind her, she saw where his focus was, and it wasn’t her mouth.

His eyes had drifted up her thigh, drawn again to where the hem of her shorts had crept up with her shifting leg. The soft pink of her panties had slipped back into view, clinging to the delicate crease where her thigh met her groin.

His hands kept moving, but slower now. That slight fold at the crease of her thigh, seeing her panties as he held her foot. His eyes lingered longer than he realized as he took in the edge of her mound, barely hidden under the thin layer. Her other foot remained in his lap, unmoving, and he realized she hadn’t spoken, nor had she adjusted her position.

He let his gaze drift upward, tracing the line of her body over her hip, the steady rise and fall of her breasts, until it finally reached her face and he found her watching him.

Eyes fully open with an unreadable look in them. She didn’t flinch or look away. Just held his gaze with that look she had moments ago. His fingers wrapped gently around each of her toes in turn, rolling them between his fingertips with slow, deliberate care.

“I should go to bed,” she whispered. The eye contact breaking the spell and guilt seeping in slightly, as she saw Lisa’s eyes looking back at her through him.

Still, she didn’t rush to get up either. Her hand that rested at the center of her body, appeared to be gripping at her shirt without her realizing it. The fingers lightly gathering the fabric of her shirt where her ribs met her stomach. The pull cinched the material inward from all sides, baring a growing expanse of skin above her waistband and stretching the material more snugly across her chest, while also fully exposing what he considered to be a sexy belly button. Her breath moved beneath it in what looked like slightly more ragged pulls, and he could see the outline of her nipples pressing with each breath, as the shirt shifted in her grip.

His hands didn’t stop. His thumbs moved slowly across the tops of her toes, down their sides, easing another faint flex from her foot.

“Yeah,” he murmured, but neither of them moved, except for his hands.

Her leg stayed draped across his lap, his erection fully hard and the occasional nudge against her foot as it twitched on its own. The pink of her panties remained visible beneath her shorts, but she made no move to hide them.

He kept massaging and watching her chest, her mouth, her face. Her eyes fluttered closed once more.

“Yeah… Bed…” she whispered once more.

She didn’t say anything else. But taking in a deep breath, she slowly extracted one foot from his hands and drew the other back from couch. Her hand released the her shirt, letting it the bunched material fall back into place as she eased upright with a quiet breath. The glass she’d never finished was set gently on the coffee table with a faint clink.

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