A hot stranger
 

This is a story I’ve thought of sharing many times, but the short version sounds too unlikely to be true and the long version was just too long. But this stunning memory remained at the top of my spank bank for so many years that I thought it was worth telling. So the short version of this story is that a hot stranger asked me to help her in the shower, not some wack job with a fetish, a good, normal, take-home-to-mom type of girl. Like I said, sounds impossible, so on to the long version!

In the prime of my drinking and partying days I ran with a tight group of friends. One hot summer day we were seeing off one of “our” girls, Jo, who was leaving the warm weather to work a ski mountain in Australia. The other reason why we were getting together is that she had arranged an apartment exchange with some girl who was a semi-pro mountain biker from Australia who was coming over here for the biking season and she wanted to introduce her to our group. Her name was Caroline and she arrived hours later than expected so we were already well sauced. She was hot and I thought our group did a great show of trying to impress her in the best way that young 20s know how; taking the party to wee hours, drinking hard, buying rounds, creating a dance floor where one was never meant to be, and belting out the lyrics to anything singable. Apparently she wasn’t as taken with us as we were with her because she didn’t make an effort to get in touch with any of us again.

I didn’t think of her until a month later when Jo catches me on chat. It’s 2:30am and I just got home from a night of bar hopping. It turns out that she got a message from Caroline that was heavy on panic but light on details with a “I don’t know where else to turn” type of vibe. I was not her first choice to ask but she can’t get a hold of anyone else at this hour, so she convinces me to go check in on her the next day.

I arrive at Jo’s late morning feeling weird about the situation and knock. I hear footsteps right away then soon after the doorknob starts rattling. It rattles for far to long before someone kicks or hits the door and swears. Then I hear someone, presumably Caroline call out “Come in it’s open”. I can tell the voice is just on the other side of the door so I ask if I should come back at a better time. The reply is urgent, “No! Please open the door!”. I cautiously open it and recognize Caroline right away despite looking far less attractive than when I last saw her. She had on old makeup that was only partially washed off and her face had that red and puffy look that comes from hours of crying. The situation finally makes sense when I see that she has casts on both arms. On the right hand, the cast completely immobilized the thumb and went way up the hand. The left was more like a cast you usually see and should have offered more mobility, but all her fingers were black, purple and hugely swollen making every task, including opening the door, a hard one.

As much as she needed physical help, she needed a therapy session to share the shit-show that had been her life over the past 3 days. The kitchen was a disaster from prying open various leftovers and snacks with her teeth then leaving out the containers. Her last meal was cereal from a box that she had accidentally dropped so she bent down and ate it with her mouth off the floor. Eating like a dog in a country far from friends and family is what finally broke her. I was able to make her first decent meal with groceries she had around the house and fed it to her. It was humbling for both of us and made the new friendship seem more intimate than it deserved to be after just a couple hours. As she talked, I cleaned up the lunch and her various messes kitchen. She told me everything starting from the mountain bike race that did her in.

It happened on a Thursday and a “sort of” boyfriend got her to and from the hospital. She shared much but I was never quite clear on the nature of their relationship. I know that she had him help her out of her sweaty racing gear when she got home in the middle on the night on the accident day but there was some sort of dispute when he expected to sleep in her bed. I don’t know if they were not intimate, or if she just didn’t feel like sharing a space after a gruelling day ending with 12 hours of doctors, x-rays, and getting casts. But she wants someone to be there, so he stayed on the couch. I am trying to see both sides of the story while only hearing her version, but I’m guessing that he is stewing over being shunned the night before while she is oblivious to this and expected breakfast and someone to help her get dressed. For the wardrobe side of things, she wanted jeans and a t-shirt, which would later prove the be disastrous, and for breakfast she suggested he check if there were enough eggs. I gather that she got her own panties on, but expected him to help with the bra. Now some sort of fight started when she faced the other way for him to put it on. The word she hung on was “deserved”. “Can you believe he thought he deserved to see something for helping me?”. He said he was going to leave but she got him to do the bra and pull on her jeans before he walked out the door. He left an empty pan with nothing but sizzling butter while the eggs sat on the counter. That was 2 days prior and I had just put away the same eggs and washed the pan with the, now congealed, butter. It was a Friday, so it was reasonable to imagine that he would have to work. Through text, which she did tediously with the last 2 fingers of her left hand, she figured he was coming back to sort out dinner at the end of the day, but he never did.

Now we get to why jeans were a poor choice. Despite trying for hours, she could not undo the button and nature has a way of demanding that the button be undone. She held on well into the evening while calling the BF many times to only get voicemail when eventually she squatted in the tub and peed through her jeans. The full admission of this was another example of how the odd circumstances were leading to an unusual level of sharing between us. He did eventually show up but unfortunately for him, he arrived not soon enough to prevent the disaster and not long enough for her to cool her anger, and all words exchanged were far from pleasant. I don’t know exactly what happened in the awkward moments that would later be defined as their break-up, and her being relieved of her piss-soaked jeans, but somehow before he left, she ended up in the dress that she was wearing when she greeted me when I opened the door.

Now well fed, in a clean house, and having unloaded to a new friend, she was feeling much better but the next thing she desperately wanted was a shower. It had been 4 days since she last shower and one of those was sweating it up in a mountain bike race, the next involved her pissing herself, plus she had been wearing the same clothes for the past 40 hours. Now please excuse where my mind went when she asked if I’d help her with that. Everything that I’d done up to that point was in actual human interest in helping someone with a crappy situation. But I must admit that my mind went straight to porn music. The reality of what she wanted was much more sobering. She asked if I could tape some plastic bags around the casts, undo her bra, and she would manage the rest.
===========
That's all the time I have. I'm a little disappointed, I really wanted to write about the good stuff, but I think the preamble is probably necessary. I don't need comments or likes to post the rest, I will get it up for sure because the part that's left over is the stuff in my spank bank so I'll enjoy writing it. However, if there are comments and likes then I am sure to get to it faster. Just wanted to let you know that it's not a ransom story demanding your admiration before it continues.

Please go on!

I agree.

I made neat work on waterproofing the casts and was secretly pleased that I did a smooth job of unhooking her bra through the dress fabric. She let out an audible sigh of relief when the bra popped loose noting that she had been stuck in it for way too long. She turned to me with a look of such appreciation that I think I blushed. It seemed like a moment where one of us might say something profound but her next words were, “I’d hug you but I know I stink”. She added, “Can you stay until I get out or do you need to get going?”. I told her I planned to finish cleaning up for her so I would hang about. I motioned toward where I expected mess to be but surprised myself that I had pretty much done got the whole kitchen back in order already. She went off to the shower and I tried to find more to do in a kitchen that really didn't need work. I got distracted emptying the crumbs out of the toaster that long preceded her injury and really did not need doing when I heard her call my name. As I walked toward the bathroom, I realized that it had been many minutes and the water never went on. The door was closed so knocked and let her know I was there. “Can you come in please?” she answered.

I found her exactly as I left her except her face had adopted a frustrated scowl “I can’t do it, but I really NEED a shower." she paused and slowly and stumbled through her request, "I think I need you to do it, do you mind?” The look on her face told me that she was worried I might say no, clearly she does not know what drives the male mind. She faced away from me, I lifted the dress. It all got very real when I saw that she wasn’t wearing panties and her beautiful athletic bum appeared. She lifted her arms as I pulled it over her head. The bra which I had previously undone was hanging from her shoulders. She pressed her arms together, leaned forward and shimmied, so it fell to the ground. As I admired the view she folded her arms across her chest as if to maintain some modesty even though I could not see her front. I feared my job was done but she looked toward the taps and indicated that she likes it very hot. I turned the knobs using more hot than cold and we both stood awkwardly while we took turns feeling the water for it to get hot enough for her to get in. She faced away from me the whole time so it was easy to sneak looks while pretending to avert my eyes, this was especially true as she focused on stepping into the tub. I wondering once again if my job might be done but then she asked me to use a specific soap, out of the many potions and lotions that she had on display. Needless to say I was only too happy to oblige.

===============
Out of time again, I should be able to finish tomorrow.

Looking forward to the next instalment.

this is getting gooood

I wasted no time and started to lather her shoulders and back. I lingered there for a while thinking that
that it was a safe zone and wondering where to go next. I decided that armpits were non-offensive and a
very expected part of the shower. She lifted her arms to receive my caresses confirming that I was on
the right track. With her arms raised it seemed only natural to slip my hands around to the front. I
soaped her boobs and she did not resist so I was sure it was a sign that this was more than just a functional shower.

Now that I thought I was given the “all clear” I gave a little bit of extra attention to the nipples, and as fast as my hopes were raised, they were immediately lowered when she relaxed her arms naturally pushing my
hands down. I was pretty sure that I’d just betrayed the trust given to me, but I also thought that she
had politely shut down my groping in such a way that we can both pretend it never happened. So at that
moment I decided that I would complete this like a task and try to ignore the fact that there is a very
sexy naked woman in front of me asking me to touch her. While my aim was to keep it “professional” I could not help but do one smooth soapy stroke over the
bum on the way to the thighs. I gave the legs a decent run down; front, back, upper, and lower, making
sure not to create another faux-pas by heading too far up the inner thigh. I gave verbal cues to lift each
foot and she leaned against the wall while both got a good rubbing. Then, with the same emotion as if I
just washed her car, I ask if I got everything clean. With awkward hesitation I can tell there is something
she wants to say but feels she can’t. Part of me is disappointed that there seems to be something
inadequate in my work, but the other part of me is excited that this isn’t over.

==========
I was travelling today and had lots of time to write so I've written more than I shared here, but I'm rethinking how to share the next part. There's an awkward thing that I softened for a "wider audience" and I have to think of I should "unsoften" it. Maybe more in an hour, if not, tomorrow.

Just tell it like it happened.

So she tries to explain and stresses the part about “4 days” and “no hands” and “I just want to be clean” and I nod as if I understand it all, but I am certainly not getting it. She says is in a couple of ways before she reaches out and places her crippled arms on my shoulders half pulling me into the shower and half leaning out. She puts her lips to my ear as if there might be someone close enough to hear the secret and says, “I had to poop!”. Now I am sure that this will gross out some people but for me it was not even a hesitation. With all that soap and water anything gross would wash away in a hurry. Immediately after the whisper she pretended that nothing had been said and leaned back toward the water for a rinse letting the water fall down her back. I got my hands amply soaped and decided to proceed a little more scenically the target. Both bum cheeks got an ample rub down on the way to the part that needed cleaning adding soap liberally as needed. Unlike the push back from the nipple groping I felt very invited to keep washing this area. Because I know the pee story, I also feel I have license to wash that “dirty” area in front too. There is a bit of an arch to her back and she seems to be pushing her bum toward me. With each pass I try to have one of my fingers slide between the lips. I’m starting to think that not all the slippery feeling is the soap and I am almost sure this is an invitation for more and I am even more sure that a finger could slip in at this point. But I had already slowed things down once by not asking and asking is what got me to this far. I decide to stop and ask again, “So do I have everything clean yet?”. There is a pause and she seems to wake from some sort of daze, “Oh, umm, yes… thank you… yes… let me just rinse off”. It is not the answer I expected and definitely not what I wanted to hear but before I had a chance to attempt a clever rescue she asks if I will slide the curtain closed.

Keep going. This is the first thread I am looking forward to see on the site.

Best thread at the moment
 

Yes, please continue. Very hot encounter and perverted minds want to her the rest of the story. :)

Sorry, busy weekend. I'll take a break tomorrow when I am sick of working and finish up the story.

Please keep this story going! In some ways it reminds me of what goes through my thoughts occasionally when I think of my neighbour who is in her mid-late 20's. Will she knock on my door and ask me to get her out of a awkward situation, although maybe not quite like this? :D

Well here's hoping that one day she breaks both her arms ;)

I know, terrible thing to say.

It seemed that something had changed in her, and my logical brain knew that the moment had passed, but the guy living south of my belt was trying to convince me that it was still on. After closing the curtain for her, I probably should have left and told her to call if she needed me. Instead I make an excuse to stay by announcing that I am still here wiping up the water we sprayed when the curtain was open. While behind the privacy of the curtain she lingers, as one might expect after not having seen a shower in a while, but it takes longer than I thought and once I again I feel like maybe I should have left. I hope she realizes I’m still there and I want to call out when she beats me to it, “Are you still there?” I can’t tell anything more from her tone, it wasn’t “wtf, why are you still here” nor was it, “I’m so, glad you are still here”. So I answer by explaining that I thought she would still need me. There’s a pause. Then, “yeah, I suppose I can’t really turn off the water, and I’d rather get dried properly”. I wanted her to sound excited that we were being thrown into intimacy, but her voice indicated more like reluctant necessity. “Ok, I’m done. Can you turn off the water?”

I reach past the curtain blindly and shut off the water wishing there was an acceptable way to try something more brazen. I grab a towel and ask her how she wants to do this. She tells me to wait and I hear her attempts to flick the water from her hair in a whipping motion. I can hear the water splat against the shower walls so it must be doing something. At this point I’m sure she realizes that this would go better with help and announces, “I’ll stay here and face the wall and you can just reach in.” I think that she is imagining some way to reach around without me seeing but I can’t picture it so I just slide the curtain open. She’s standing there looking small, legs tight together, elbows at her sides and her forearms covering her boobs (once again a redundant gesture because she is facing away). I’ve received enough hints at this point that I know the sensual part has ended so I keep the actions functional, but I still enjoy it more than I should. I underestimated the attention that needs to be given to long hair and see that it continues to drip and re-wet everything I was intending to dry. My smooth deliberate motions become much more rushed and random and I start to worry that she might believe that I was slowing things down on purpose. But she identified the problem and coached me through dealing with the hair. Instead of toweling it, she had me pull it into a pony tail and wring it out. It took me a while to get it and at one point I must have twisted much too hard, so I wanted to swing the situation back around and have things be less awkward again. I was not aiming for sensual, but I did want it to be pleasant. I missed the goal by a long shot when I quickly reached for the towel and did not realize my ring was caught in her hair. It’s not a ring that catches on much so I didn’t think of it. It is so stuck that I end up taking it off and it still stays hanging there. I’m apologising as I fumble around. It finally becomes easy when I have 2 hands to work with. Then it slips from my hand and clangs loudly in the tub and rolls toward the drain end. I stare at it and swear, not because I think it will go down the drain or anything mostly because all my attempts and smooth and suave are failing. The brief silence is broken when she giggles. Then explaining her reaction, “How is it that I am standing here naked, but you’re the one who is embarrassed?”

This marked a major mood shift. I don’t know how we went from sensual to cold but I was very happy that we had now somehow shifted from cold to friendly. There were some small-talk that went beyond the required instructions, most of which I don’t remember specifically, just things like “That was the best shower ever.” However there was one comment that did stand out. As I was taking one last pass over her boobs she said, “Ok, I think you’ve covered that area now.” Of course, there was more meaning in the tone than the words. I really was not overdoing it but if I was caught with my hand in the cookie jar it wasn’t “Hey get your hands off those cookies!” but more like “I see you found the cookies, make that your last one.” I did one pass through the secret garden and surrounding area but it was with a bundle of towel so I didn’t feel anything but it was still exciting to be there. When done she had me wrap the towel around her. It took me a couple tries to get it tight and on one of my failed attempts I got a quick peek at an up close nip.

slow game
 

sounds like a slow game was the best strategy here - I hope it worked out for you, and that we get to hear about it!

Sorry it took a bit to get to the final piece.

The last bit of excitement is getting her into some clothes. Having come here with just a couple of bags she didn’t exactly have a lot of selection. The dress she was wearing was perfect, but after a shower she really wanted something clean and the only other dress she had was fancy and definitely did not look comfy. She had me pull out a skirt but changed her mind as soon as she saw it. When she did the apartment swap with Jo they each left their stuff behind, so that opened up another possibility. I know Jo well enough that I am sure she won’t mind if we look through her things and she reluctantly agrees. So for the next 20 mins it’s like we’re a couple of girls clothes shopping. I fear that I’m treading a little to close to friend-zone but with nudity on the horizon, I keep treading. She is not real excited about any of the options and is about the settle on a tube skirt that she can just wear with one of her t-shirts. I try to sell her on a dress that is tight on top but gets loose at the waist, thinking it would be easier than a tight skirt to flip up and avoiding incidences like the one with the jeans. I’m holding it out for her and she asks, “Can you pull out that blue thing?” and points. The pointing brings about a fantastic wardrobe malfunction as the towel slips. She catches, but not soon enough. She has it pinned to her ribs with her casts and her boobs, which I hardly got a chance to see before, were finally on full display. When she realizes she can’t shuffle the towel up she drops to a squat. With the boobs now successfully hidden by her knees, I am looking straight down at her back which quickly draws my eyes toward the beautiful heart shaped bum cheeks pointing out behind her. It’s a great sight but I manage to look away before she looks at me and says, “Don’t look!” even though she can see that I’m not. I can’t help but laugh. In a semi-exaggerated plea she says “Don’t laugh at me!” but she is already laughing herself. I ask if she want help with the towel but she directs me to put on the dress instead. She says, “Don’t look.” again and I half-avert my eyes as she does some awkward hops to spin around in squat position before standing up. Now this action certainly did not do much to preserve her modesty. In fact, it had very much the opposite effect. The only problem was that I was too close and almost looking down on her. If I was lower or further back it would have been quite the view.

She announced that she was ready, which I already knew from peeking. I asked if I should get a bra or panties. “Just the dress!” Being naked, she said with some urgency. I slipped it over her head and drank in the sight as I pulled it down. It fit fine, I think it was supposed to be tighter up top, but Jo is a little bigger than Caroline. I thought it looked great but was very happy to hear that she didn’t like it so we would have to keep trying. She mentioned the tight stretchy skirt again so I reminded her about how the jeans failed her and that it should be easy to flip up. It turns out she was thinking the same thing and proceeded to show me how the current dress might fail. She showed me how she would hook her arms under the hem and lift. She clearly did not know how high she was lifting it, but it was still 2 inches shy of where I wanted it to be. Despite my distraction I saw her point, the loose material would flop around and it was hard to get it all up at once. I remembered seeing one that might work but I never pulled it out because I thought it would be too small. But now that I saw this dress on her I knew Jo was a little bigger so it must be bigger than I thought. On the hanger it looked way to small but obviously meant to stretch. Having done this before we easily found a rhythm where she turned around, raised her arms and I pulled off the dress. The new dress was much more fun to put on as the tightness required me to pull in a lot more places. The best part was when her hands were up, and the top of the dress was still above her head covering her face and the bulk of the dress was bunched at the top of her chest. I had started the same way you might pull on a sock by bunching up the material in your hands, but now I had to pull from the hem to finish the job. I fidgeted with the material near her armpit to find the hem and at the same time I could not help but poke my head around front for a peek. I did not risk looking long but it seems I have a near photographic memory when properly motivated. The material felt quite restrictive when it was bunched but stretched freely when it was spread out, so it slipped on nicely. It was basically like a fitted tank top that just kept going. I’d guess the material was cotton and it had some vertical corrugations that allowed it to stretch in the right places without being baggy in others. She joked about that process being less than graceful, I retorted by saying I don’t put on a lot of dresses.

It stayed friendly and fun but, sigh, that was the last time I saw her naked. I kept thinking of all the things I could have done differently but sometimes I wonder if it wasn’t for the best. I’ve spent way more time fantasizing about this than I have with any “successful” conquests.

Thanks
 

Thanks for the fun story

You did the right thing, anything more would have been taking advantage of her sad situation. Good for you for giving her the respect. What happened after this? Did you help her more or did she find someone else?

I saw her the next day and brought her dinner, it was awkward and we never really addressed the elephant in the room. Shortly after, her mom flew in so my work was done. I thought we were mending things over text but that ended abruptly. The crash killed her mountain bike money and she moved back home within a week or two. She said that she would write when she got a new phone number but she never did.