She was sprawled on the couch as though she had collapsed with her final burst of energy for the day, head resting on the worn, slightly dusty throw pillow, hair splayed out haphazardly. I gazed at her, as I do every day, wishing I could take away some of her stress. Her job was physically demanding, as would be all her jobs until she could get through school. Tonight was the beginning of her weekend, and she wanted to stay up as late as possible to celebrate the fact that she could sleep in tomorrow, but I could tell by her drooping eyelids that she would soon be dead to the world.
At my insistence, she eventually unfolded herself from the couch and I led her upstairs to bed. She collapsed, sitting on the mattress, grunting with the effort of it all, and pulled a book off the nightstand, determined to stave off unconsciousness for just a bit longer. Flipping idly through the pages, she pretended to ignore me as I sat on the edge of the bed, picked up her left foot and began pushing my fingertips and thumbs into the soft flesh in a gentle massage.
After a few moments on the single foot, I reached up and wordlessly pushed her back onto the bed. She allowed herself to fall backward, still holding onto the book, but whether she was actually reading I couldn't tell. I crept up her legs and gently thumbed the button of her jeans, eventually unclasping it then lowering the zipper. She slightly raised her hips to aide in the garment's removal, but other than this small gesture she gave no reaction to my ministrations.
Her empty jeans, still warm from her body heat, crumpled to the floor in a rapidly cooling heap, her keys falling out of the pocket and jangling briefly before deadening on the carpet. I took a quiet moment and absorbed the sight of her body, my eyes an insatiable sponge. Her cream-colored panties fit perfectly on her hips, the area below her navel lay completely flat, faint wisps of nearly invisible blonde hair on her smooth belly. My eyes ran down her legs, taking in the soft, flawless skin and gentle contours of muscle... despite my best efforts she had never understood how beautiful she was, but damned if I will ever stop trying.
I resumed the foot rub, kneading gently, working up her ankle to her calf, paying attention to each individual muscle, feeling the tension of her day flowing out of her. Upward from her calf to her knee, thigh, all the way to her hip; my eyes brushed over her covered pussy, staring hungrily at the delicate skin between her thighs giving way to the thick hem of her panties, trying to use my insistent gaze as a wedge to uncover the hidden flesh. After a moment of longing frustration, I set down her left leg and turned my attention to her right foot, beginning the process anew, prodding, poking, rubbing, kneading.
