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Making Jam part 2

Making Jam (Part 2)

All the jam was in jars when she returned to the kitchen with tousled, damp hair. She looked beautiful and refreshed. She told me to go for my shower while she finished the jam.

I was quick, as I thought; half an hour to get there, half an hour to park and walk, it would be a challenge. After the sweat and stickiness of jam making it felt delightful to be clean, the clothes with their soft, washed texture felt luxurious against my skin.

I went out to the kitchen and watched Cheryl put on the rubber bands, a difficult job because the jars were so hot. Carefully she held the jar with a towel, so she wouldn't get burnt, then with one hand she stretched the rubber band, caught it on the lip and pulled it over to seal the cellophane.

For some reason, there was a quick, scraping noise as the last jar slipped from her grasp and boiling hot jam flew from it to land on her shirt. Very quickly Cheryl tore her shirt off, the jam had gone through it and as she moved to the sink she ripped off her bra. She leaned over the sink, as she ran cold water over her breast. I was horrified and for a moment stood, amazed that she should be so quick to start treatment. I eventually recovered my senses, found some ice cubes and wrapped them in flannels for her. She put them over her breast.

"Stupid thing to do," she said. Her face was flushed as she looked at me.

"Don't worry, these things happen," I said, "we don't have to go into town, we'll welcome the New Year here."

"Still stupid!" She looked at me and I felt so inadequate, I tried to find something to say that would help.

" As long as you're ok." She looked so vulnerable. I knew she wanted more than words. I leaned forward and kissed her cheek. Nothing needed to be spoken, words were meaningless. She looked up at me and I kissed her lips. Then we looked at each other; it was difficult not to look at her. I wanted to hug her tight and kiss her, but it was impossible while she was occupied and we both giggled with the understanding.

She continued to clutch the ice to her breast and ran cold water over it at the same time. I found a towel, and a tee shirt that she could wear. I wondered if jam making for the trading table was worthwhile, surely it would be easier and possibly cheaper to simply donate the money. She held her breast up and looked for signs of a burn. It looked cold to me.

"You think it's burnt?" she asked and I came closer for a better look. I could see her nipple, large and beautiful, it stood up from the centre of her large, brown areola. I looked at the skin around the areola; milky, white with large blue veins that had seen little sun, inside a pale triangle surrounded by tanned brown skin. She held her breast up so I could have a better look. I asked if she could feel anything because I couldn't see anything. She held her other breast up for me and after careful comparison I said they looked the same, having discounted the effects of the ice cube treatment. I quickly kissed her lips.

"I can't feel anything," she said.

My hand shook as I ran a finger over her breast and felt for a raised edge; then more than one finger, the tips gliding over the soft skin, avoiding her nipple and its areola.

"I can't feel anything either," I told her, my mouth was so dry I was barely able to speak. "Well, not a burn I mean," and she laughed.

"I think it will be ok. Lucky I was quick!"

She pressed her breasts together and her nipples and areolas swelled, then she grinned as she dropped them. I watched as they bounced to their natural positions. She indicated that I should dry her and slowly I patted the skin with the towel in my hands as I moved her breast to gain access. It felt strange as I dried her breast, I didn't think it would be so heavy and its almost fluid nature made it difficult to hold. When finished I quickly kissed the rise of her breast, held out the tee shirt, and her breasts rose as she raised her arms to put it on.

Cheryl looked down at the tee shirt. It stretched to accommodate her breasts, her nipples clearly protruded and it being a white tee shirt we could see them and the areolas through the fabric. She raised a finger to the breast that had been at risk and touched it, then traced her fingers around, pinched both nipples and grinned at me.

We both looked up at the clock. Three minutes to midnight!

"Come!" I said and took her hand; we were going in different directions for a moment, but I led her outside and we stood away from the house. We stopped and listened. In the distance we could hear someone counting down.

"Twenty three, twenty two, ......" I reached for her hand. She passed my hand to her other hand and stood in front of me.

"Fifteen, fourteen, ........" She leaned against me and I reached forward to link my arms around her. The smell of fresh shampoo was beautiful and I inhaled deeply as I caught the scent and my nose tickled with the errant wisps of her hair. I kissed the back of her head and then the back of her neck.

"Eight, seven, ........" She looked back at me; her face beamed. Her body was stooped a little and I felt the bottoms of her breasts, as they molded around my arms which were linked around her.

"Three, two, one! Blast off! Have a Happy New Year everyone!!!!!!"

We heard the shouts of Happy New Year, the whoohoos and merriment. I leaned forward as she leaned back and we kissed. She turned and our open mouths meshed together as our tongues explored. Her hands were on my chest while I caressed her breasts and felt her nipples. There was another noise in the distance and we both looked, she turned away and I held her breasts as she pushed back into me, my cock hard and erect, nicely nestled in the crack of her bum.

**************

To Be Continued: Making Jam (Part3)
 		Submitted by:
murmur

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