A few weeks ago, my wife Sarah’s best friend from childhood needed to get away from some personal things for a bit, so she came to crash in our guest room.
Jane (31) is petite, under 5’ with dark brown medium length hair. We had always gotten along just fine, even danced a bit with her at Sarah and my wedding. Normally, she was average in features and… assets. Classically pretty, but never my type. I say normally, because at the time of this story, Jane was 7 months pregnant.
It was a Thursday early evening; Jane had been staying with us for about 5 days. She worked freelance so could just hop on her computer when she needed to get some stuff done. But she had gotten to relax some, hang out by the pool, and just get away from her problems back home.
Sarah was at the gym, and was going to be picking up dinner for all 3 of us afterwards. I was just getting home from work and found Jane in the kitchen.
“Hey, Sarah is picking up dinner from [a local place], check out the menu and let me know what you want. I’ll text it to her,” I said.
Jane was thrilled, and pulled up her phone and started browsing the items as I put a few things away in the kitchen. She was leaning over the counter and fidgeting a bit. She just looked generally uncomfortable even though she was clearly excited for dinner. She gave me her order and then let out a huge sigh.
“You ok?” I asked.
“Yeah,” she replied, “It’s just:” *She gestured towards her pregnant belly*
Like I said, she really was petite, so her bump did indeed look pronounced. I remembered something I had seen online and thought it could help.
“Could I try something real quick? May help.” I asked.
“Yes…” she said apprehensively.
I had her stand in the middle of the kitchen. I stood behind her and said “Try not to make it weird,” which got a laugh out of her. I got up right behind her and started to lower my arms under her belly. She understood what I was trying to do.
“May I?” I asked again.
“Of course,” Jane replied.
I crouched down because she was so short, secured my hands together under her pregnant belly and slowly lifted the weight to support it in my hands.
“Oh my god…” Jane immediately said. Her shoulders dropped and she instinctively slumped back into me. “I can’t even describe how relieving that is.”
“So this *does* help. That’s good to know for when Sarah and I have kids next year,” I said.
We stood there for two minutes or so, alternating talking about future baby plans and just relaxing. You might think that the proximity and personal contact might have gotten me excited there, but it was genuinely still entirely platonic. The weight wasn’t difficult to hold, but our height differences and her leaning back into me did make the stance a bit awkward. It wasn’t like I was pushed up against her ass or anything. Jane started to stand back up and said she was ready for me to let go again. I slowly lowered her bump down and released.
“I may need that one more time before I leave,” she said.
“Of course. Let me know if there’s anything else I can do to help.”
She started to head back to the guest room but stopped and turned. “Actually, there is something. While that just now definitely helped, my back is still killing me. Sarah said you guys have one of those massage guns?”
“Yeah we do. That thing is amazing,” I said.
“Could you use that on me?”
“Of course. I’ll go grab it, it should be charged. Sometimes Sarah needs it after the gym.” And this next part I just kinda blurted out without thinking about “Just take your bra off.”
Jane tilted her head “Excuse me?”
“Oh, no.” I laughed, realizing now how that sounded. “Sarah says the massage gun running over her bra straps and the clips & hooks has actually been painful before. Without them it’s totally fine. Sorry.”
She laughed. “Alright, that makes sense. Just sounded like you were making a demand. Holding my belly up didn’t feel *that* good.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” I replied honestly. She gave me a smile that looked a little more mischievous than I was expecting. I didn’t really know what to do make of it so I just went to retrieve the massage gun.
When I returned to the living room, Jane had done as instructed. Her tank top no longer had the telltale thin lines of straps underneath. I chanced a glance to see the outline of nipples though the fabric.
“How do you want me?” She asked.
I nearly choked in surprise. “What?”
“How do you want me to sit?”
“Oh, um… There on the couch. Here,” I said as I handed her a pillow. “Hold that to lean over.”
She did as instructed and got in position for me to use the massage gun on her back. I had the standard massaging ball attachment on it and asked her to point out where she was having trouble. She pointed out spots on the top half of her back, between her shoulder blades, and up into her neck.
“Is that all?” I asked jokingly.
“Hey, you felt how much extra weight I am carrying around now.”
“Very true. Alright, hug that pillow and try to relax. I am going to start at your lower back and work my way up. ”
I sat behind her on the couch, far enough back that I could get to any spot on her back I needed. I started on a medium setting and gave a few test passes to get her comfortable with it. She immediately responded well to it.
“Oh my,” she said.
I pressed on, gradually working my way up her back with more pressure and more targeted massaging from the gun. She was making some groans and an occasional whimper, so I checked in a few times, making sure she was good. I was finally started getting to her problem areas so I asked if she was ready.
“Let’s do it,” she said after adjusting her position slightly.
I clicked up a notch in speed and started laying into the knots in her back. She let herself relax a bit more, not holding back any moans as the massage gun did its work. I found a spot in her upper back that was incredibly tight and focusing on that spot elicited a new level of sound from her. They were more whimpery than before and started to genuinely concern me, so I pulled back and checked in again.
“Hey, how you doing there?” I asked.
“Really good. That’s kind of intense, but still really helps.”
“If it’s too much, maybe you might need some old-fashioned man-handling.”
“That’s what got me into this situation,” she said with a chuckle and pointing to her belly. “But yes, that might be better.”
I put the massage gun down and we adjusted positions on the couch so that I could massage her myself. She was sitting with 1 leg tucked under her, the other down straight on the floor to hold herself upright. I scooted in closer and started massaging just below her knots, warming up before trying to attack them.
“Oh my god, if Sarah hadn’t married you, then I would probably be proposing to you right now,” Jane said.
I smiled but did not respond, focused on my task. I started working my way up her spine, just to the right and in between her shoulder blades. The tension there was ridiculous, and I started to do my best to alleviate it.
“Oooh,” escaped her lips as I started to work. I moved up to her neck and back down, massaging small circles in to get the blood flowing and then pressing in with deep pressure to try and loosen the knots. She was breathing heavy, her moans frequent but she kept trying to keep them in. I was focused on the task, now accepting the challenge of working the knots out.
“If you’re worried about how you sound, don’t be. Allow yourself to fully relax so I can try and fix this for you,” I told her. She took a deep breath and tried to relax herself.
I started back up, driving the flat of my palms into the knots in her back. She did not hold back anymore. With each press into her muscles, moans filled the air of our living room. When I changed pattern or placement, a relieved kind of whimpering came out of her.
Her muscles started to respond. I was feeling less resistance to my efforts as I continued to work through her problem areas. Her heavy breathing and moans continued as I massaged away her stress and aches.
“Oh, right there…” she could barely say as I found the root of her troubles. I started focusing exactly where she indicated, alternating circular motion, driving palms, and sweeping deep strokes.
It was working. The more I focused on that spot, the louder she started getting. She started rocking back and forth in time to my motions, leaning into them and moaning with every press of my hands. I felt her start to tense up a bit.
“Don’t stop…” she said between breaths.
I maintained my pace and pattern, pressing my hand into her back again and again. Her tension continued to build up and every massaged stroke became a whimper. She was breathing quicker and quicker, then all at once I felt her muscles tighten up as she let out a huge moan.
Her body shook as I stopped massaging and grabbed her by the shoulders to steady her.
The moment she stopped shaking, all of her muscles relaxed all at once. She slumped forward onto the pillow and took a shuddering deep breath.
*Wait a minute, did she just..?*
I thought I knew the answer, it was pretty unmistakable. I wasn’t trying to make her orgasm in the moment, but I quickly realized that I absolutely had.
“Are you ok?” I managed to ask.
“Holy shit,” she said. “I…” she started and stopped. “I think I need to go lie down for a bit.”
She stood up from the couch and made her way to the guest room. Sure enough, the couch had a very obvious wet spot where she had sat. It looked like she had her heel up against her pussy while she sat with her leg tucked under her. Whether it was intended initially or not, I figured she just started going with the motion once it’s started.
I wasn’t sure what to think. I was flattered that I had made her cum from a massage, even if she was grinding against her heel. But also, I felt a little guilty in the moment. That was my wife’s best friend after all and I just made her climax without my wife there.
I got a towel and dried up the couch. I resolved not to mention anything to her unless she brought it up. But there was no doubt that we both knew what happened.
The question was, should I tell Sarah?