Does She Not Know - Angle 01

I casually gently squeezed and massaged. With the ball of her foot in my palm, I curled my fingers over her toes and held firm to warm them. I released after a while, then she nudged the colder toes of her other foot into my hand wanting me to give them the same treatment.

I wrapped those toes with my left hand from below and the previous toes with my right hand from above them, and just held them while we continued watching until the movie was over. I expected her to head to bed, but as she got up to take the DVD out, she asked if I wanted to watch another.

I said, "Sure. Whatever you want."

She put in another DVD, wrapped herself in a blanket, and then curled up against me, which was a first. During the movie, she gradually worked her way down to resting her head on my thigh while I rested my hand on her shoulder.

When that movie was over, we both stood up to yawn and stretch. She was more tired than I was, so I told her I'd put away the DVD. To my surprise, she gave me a sleepy hug around my bare chest.

"Thanks. G'night," she half mumbled.

I hugged her shoulders for a moment "Sure thing. Night." I released when she did, and then she slowly trodded off.

I later lay in bed remembering the feel of her face pressed against my skin. The warm expanse of her cheek. The barrier of her soft hair. The slight vibration as she spoke. The encircling pressure of her embrace.

I hadn't done much hugging, but when I had it was usually relatives, so even if they were tight, there was a certain sense of formality to them. It was the expected thing. Though perhaps less so, even hugs from my mother felt a bit obliged.

That hug from my sister felt... sincere. It felt like a whole hug. It felt like the kind of hug that I wanted to get from a girl.

During my next exercise day, I lay facedown and waited for her to lay flat along my back. Instead, she carefully knelt between my shoulders with her toes crossed at my lower back. Sitting on her legs, she gripped my shoulders near my neck.

"Okay. Go ahead," she said

"What's this for," I asked as I pushed up.

She said, "You seemed like you were plateauing, so we gotta up the ante a little."

She was right, and I hadn't been paying as much attention to my progress as I would have if she hadn't been helping. It was enough for me to feel her against me every other day.

I figured her interest was mostly to alleviate boredom, but she'd apparently actually been paying attention and quietly cheering me on. That meant a lot more to me than I expected it to.

After my last pushup, I waited for her to dismount, but instead, she said, "When you can, push up one more and hold it."

I was very curious, but I didn't question her. I pushed up, held in place, and then she lowered her feet, one by one, and laid on my back face down. Her legs wrapped around my waist and one arm wrapped over one shoulder while the other arm snaked up from beneath my other shoulder.

My eyes momentarily closed as my senses focused on the distinct pressure of her breasts, and later the rhythmic thump of her heartbeat.

Some adjustment pressed her palm flat on my pectoral and then her fingers slid into each other in an interlaced clasp.

"Okay," she said near my ear. "Now stand up and do your squats."

It took some extra effort and concentration on balance, but I did as she told me and proceeded with my otherwise normal squats. During the standard arm wrestle, I notice a hint of a smile on her face.

"If you want to keep making progress, you have to up your game," she said.

I said, "You're right. Thanks."

For a while after that, my thoughts were preoccupied with the memory of how her hand coming from below had slid over my semi-erect nipple. There is no way she didn't notice that.

Maybe forty-five minutes later, I was on the floor, leaning against the front of the couch, playing a game, and suddenly she dropped in behind me. Partially wedged in, her thighs pressed into my sides. Rather casually, she wrapped her arms around my ribcage and pulled to me, resting her chin on my shoulder.

I was surprised, but I didn't let it show, continuing to play despite being in a mixed state of confusion, pleasure, and maybe a tinge of fear.

"Hey," she said. I waited for a second to see if she was going to continue, but she didn't.

"Hey," I replied in kind. I could smell that she had just gotten out of the shower, and her hair against my ear was damp. I developed a half-chub but stayed focused.

"Come shopping with me," she said.

Our parents bought the food, so I wasn't sure what she was talking about, and it wasn't like either of us had a job or an allowance. Or at least recently. She did have a part-time job in high school, but she quit that after graduating.

"Shopping?" I asked, confused.

"Yeah. I feel like getting a new outfit and I want you to come," she said

"You have money?" I asked her, expressing my surprise.

To my further surprise, her response was to bite the shoulder muscle near my neck almost hard enough to hurt. I half-heartedly cried out, tho obviously not actually in pain.

"Come on. I want your company and your opinion," she added.

I told her, "I'm reeeaally not a person to talk to for fashion advice." I was protesting, but I did want to go. She bit me again. The joke's on her: I was enjoying that.

"You'll do. Come on. Or I'll keep biting you," she said. She bit down again and held, shaking gently from side to side mimicking a dog with a toy.

"That's not as persuasive as you think," slipped out under my breath. I didn't intend to say it at all, but out it snuck. 'Crap,' I thought. After a couple of seconds, she released.

"What? I can't hear you mumbling," she said, to my relief.

"Okay. Give me a minute," I told her.

She said, "I'll give you more than that. Shower first." She released me and stood up before sitting beside me, holding her hands out for the controller. "I'll finish that for you," she said.

Only slightly annoyed by not getting to finish it myself, I passed control to her and headed to the bathroom. She was already dressed in a T-shirt, some regular shorts, and her canvas Keds.

I took a quick shower, got dressed, and met her back in the living room to find her lounging on the couch looking at her phone, waiting for me. I grabbed my phone off the cushion at her feet.

"Ready," I told her. She quickly wrapped up whatever she was doing and we headed out the door.

She said, "You drive," and handed me her keys, which was a little odd. She had no problem with me driving her car when I needed to, but if we ever went anywhere together, she was always the one who drove. I'd never asked to drive, and she'd never previously asked if I wanted to.

In her choice boutique, I just followed her around as she passively browsed. It wasn't exciting, but I didn't hate it. Still, I was starting to feel like I wasn't serving any purpose.

"What kind of outfit did you have in mind?" I asked, hoping to spur things along.

She said, "I was thinking maybe a skirt," which made me wonder why she was looking at a rack of pants.

"Um. I think you might be in the wrong section," I teased. She bumped her shoulder into my arm hard enough to make me take a little step to keep balance, but she then grabbed the front of my shirt and dragged me to the skirt rack as I grinned.

"I don't recall ever seeing you wear a skirt, before," I said as she thumbed through them.

She said, "I haven't. I just felt like changing things up a little, before next year. Which one do you think looks good?"

I warned her, "I don't want other people picking out my clothes, so I'd rather not be responsible for someone else's."

Both she and our parents knew well to never buy me clothes as a gift unless I picked them out.

She said, "You won't be responsible," but it sounded like she might have been slightly annoyed, so I decided to quit resisting, then she said, "I'm just new to skirts and I need a place to start. Just looking for a guy's opinion, and I trust you to not try to slut me up."

It was a fair point. Slutty outfits have their place, but in terms of daily wear, they weren't to my taste.

I gave it some thought and said, "Okay. For you, I'd say something loose around the mid-thigh length. Something not constricting, since you're used to wearing loose shorts. Maybe something that will pair well with some of your other tops. Something simple."

She was quiet a moment while she searched, then off-handedly said, "You're surprisingly good at this."

"If you say so," I said.

I was hardly an authority on such things, but I knew what I'd like to see her wear. Every justification I gave her was sincere, but I also wanted to up the odds of a panty flash, since she was not accustomed to wearing skirts. She would undoubtedly carelessly expose herself at least once when she wore it.

I found a tartan skirt and held it up as a joke and she noped it before I could make a sound, which made me giggle.

It was harder to find something suitable than either of us had expected. Everything loose and the right length was either overly complicated in its cut or design or was too chic looking, but I finally came across something that brought an "ooh" out of me.

"I like this," I said, tho perhaps in a slightly more girly way than I had preferred. I held it up for her. It had a hand-written tag so I read it to her. "It's apparently a Talia skirt, whatever that means."

She said, "I have no idea, but it is nice," then she took it from me and held it against her hips.

It was a very loose fabric that didn't look too delicate, and it was a subdued color and pattern that looked like it could work well with most of her shirts.

"I'll try it on," she said, and then I followed her to the dressing room. Through the bottom gap of the curtain, I watched her shorts drop and her step out of them, which incited images of her standing in her underwear, and then, one at a time, her shoes raised momentarily out of view as she stepped into the skirt.

After a moment, the curtain slid open and she stepped out.

"What do you think?" she asked, twirling just enough to let the material move.

It looked like somebody made it just for her, and although the T-shirt she had on was a little awkward with it, she probably could still have gotten away with it, but one of her more snug T-shirts would have worked better.

I said, "I think it looks great. Quite frankly, after all that searching, I'd be willing to call it miraculous."

"Well, I guess I can't say no to a miracle skirt," she said, with a smile. "Think we can find a top to go with it?" she asked.

I said, "All things considered, probably."

The odds were much more in our favor on that front. It ended up being another snug tank, but it worked well. I was wishing she hadn't worn a bra, but what can you do?

She paid for it at the counter and wore it out the door.

"Let's eat lunch, somewhere," she said, on the way to the car. I had a feeling that 'Home is somewhere,' wasn't gonna fly, that day. "On me," she added.

I said, "Okay. Where'd you have in mind?"

"Your choice," she said.

I thought about it carefully and had decided by the time we were back on the road. On the way, I happened to glance down at her legs, which I also happened to do numerous times on the way to the boutique, but that skirt presented her legs in a new light and made them look a little extra alluring, even though it covered more than her shorts had.

In consideration of her bank account, we arrived at my choice of the least horrible fast food joint and went in for some burgers that passed for real burgers.

While we ate in a booth, I suddenly felt her repeatedly, but lightly kicking my shin. By the feel of it, she had taken a shoe off and was using the front of her foot with her toes bent up.

I looked up to see her staring at me with just a hint of a smile that raised my eyebrow.

"Yes?" I asked since she wanted my attention.

"Thanks for coming with me, today," she said while continuing to kick my shin lightly.

I said, "No problem. I enjoyed it." I stared at her a moment before adding, "Just gonna keep kicking me, huh?"

Her eyebrows raised briefly as if to say, 'Yeah, and what are you gonna do about it?' Game on, then.

I lowered my right hand to rest on my leg as I ate fries with my left and tried to time my next move perfectly.

In a quick motion, I managed to catch her foot right before it hit my shin and I squeezed it hard enough to keep hold of it without hurting her.

She laughed and struggled half-heartedly, and I brought her foot up to rest between my legs on the seat, causing her to have to sit up straight. I tried clamping her foot with my legs, but mid-thigh was insufficient to hold her in place, so I pulled her into my groin without realizing until too late that I was pressing her foot directly into my crotch. We were both having too much fun to notice until my crotch started getting hard.

I didn't want it to be weird, so I pretended to playfully give up, scooted back in the seat and fully release her foot. I put that hand back to use on finishing my burger, and she just continue staring at me while sipping her drink and not moving her foot one tiny bit.

I sarcastically thought, 'Well, this is fantastic,' as I hoped I successfully gave the impression that what just happened didn't just happen.

Back home, we separated to put away our belongings and use the bathroom, then I sat on the couch to watch a movie. She joined me later and sat against the far arm with her bare feet pushed against my thigh.

Over time, she sunk further and further into a laying position, which forced her butt along the cushion, largely independent of her skirt, and the knees of her bent legs were pointed towards the TV. I glanced over, and exactly as I had predicted, she hadn't paid attention, and I had a view of one and a half of her panty-covered buttcheeks.

I went the subtler side-eye route for a longer look, and I noticed the smaller, lightly cleft mound of her pussy. My dick quickly stiffened into discomfort leaving me needing to adjust myself. I tried to be inconspicuous about it, and she did not indicate noticing, or at least caring.

It wasn't long before the movie was over, and she got up to put in a different one. She didn't seem to pay any mind to the state of her skirt, and she moved as if she had been wearing shorts. The skirt fell into place on its own, either way.

My boner had died down a little, and her attention on her task had given me a chance to properly adjust myself. She sat back down, and I expected her to get back into the same position, but this time her head went to my thigh.

She started on her side with her arms curled in. I found that a bit worrisome, as she had changed from a revealing position to a very concealing one. Did she realize that she was exposed and now is intentionally hiding from me, or is it just a coincidence?

Over time, she rolled her torso onto its back and later her lower body followed suit leaving her knees in the air and her skirt bunched up nearer her hips. They still blocked my view of her panties, but her thighs were nicely on display.

During one of my side-eye glances, I moved my gaze up her body to see her hands resting on her stomach, and then I noticed something in my lower peripheral. She had removed her bra after we returned home, but I quickly realized that it was reasonable that she would do that if she wore it only to go out.

My contemplations and the mere sight of their shape mimicked by the material had me carelessly engrossed. I got another boner, which wasn't too big a deal since she wasn't touching or seeing my crotch, but I ended up staring too long and let my head rotate a bit too far. I was also late to react to feeling her head roll on my thigh.

My gaze shot to her eyes looking directly into mine. 'Shit!' I thought. I instinctively looked back to the TV screen, making no outward expression. 'Dammit. She caught me staring at her tits,' I thought, and then noticed that she was not looking back at the TV.

Her left hand raised and guided my face back toward hers. 'Shit!' was all I could think, again. Her expression was a very slight smile, which confused me, then her right hand rose.

"Hold still," she said, and then picked something away from my eye. "Eyelash," she said, blew it from her fingertip, and then returned to position watching the movie, leaving me with a fading fear boner.

I decided to keep my eyes on the screen for the rest of the movie, but she eventually rolled onto her side again, and this time she slipped her right hand, palm-down between her head and my thigh with the back of her head pressed into my hip.

It was mainly the pressure of the back of her head that revived my boner. I needed to make another adjustment, but that was out of the question, so I endured until my erection faded.

Our parents returned from work near the end of the movie, so we retreated to our respective rooms. I don't know what she did, but I rubbed one out to the pictures I'd taken. Later that night, I was exiting the bathroom and passed her on her way to use it.

Wearing only panties and a snug tank top that showed some midriff, she playfully side-bumped me with her shoulder as soon as we were aligned. After she passed, I looked back to see if she wanted any more attention, but she continued as normal, which was fine by me as I got to look at her ass.

The next day, I decided it might be a good idea to put a little precautionary distance between us, for at least that one day, so I mowed the lawn. Also, it was nice to get a little more sun. I think I saw her spying on me through a window, but I could have been mistaken. Part of me hoped she was.

I was trying to counterbalance the previous day's ogling mishap with a certain degree of disinterest, so I, otherwise, didn't pay her any mind while I was working. After I finished, she met me as I entered the house.

She said, "I'm about to cook my lunch. Want me to fix you some too?"

We typically prepared our own meals, since we usually ate at different times and in different rooms, historically speaking. We'd synced up a bit more, by then, but it was the first time either of us had cooked for the other.

"Yeah. Thanks. I'm gonna shower," I said.

"Good. You're pretty sweaty," she said, swiping a hand down one side of my chest and then inspecting her palm, before turning toward the kitchen. I appreciated that she didn't think I was too gross to touch, or whatever.

After my shower, I joined her in the kitchen to find her finishing cooking what amounted to scrambled eggs and hamburger meat.

She said, "Pour us some tea," while she was dividing the food between two plates. I filled two glasses and saw that she was setting the plates on the small dining table, which any of used rarely actually used for dining. Getting the clue and being fine with it, I set a glass of tea by each plate and took the seat opposite her.

After a few bites, she asked me, "How is it?"

"Good," I said.

Neither of us was the idle banter type, so there was no rivetting conversation, but there was a moment of quiet.

"I'm really liking that skirt, so far. I think it was a good choice," she said.

"Yeah. It seems to be working well," was the safest thing I could think of to say, given that what was going through my mind was more like, 'Yeah. It gave me a great chance to see your ass and crotch.'

"Still gotta get used to wearing it, though. Gotta be more careful about how you sit, and all," she said.

I got a little nervous wondering if she was insinuating that she knew I peeked.

I said, "I imagine it would take some getting used to if you've never worn one before." After another silence, I said, "Any thoughts on what you'll do next year?"