Don't Tell Your Father

Renae had not seen her son for months since he started college, so when he asked if it would be okay to visit, she jumped at the chance. Brad had been staying with his father, who lived close to campus. The divorce had not been a friendly parting of ways, and it had hurt Renae, made her feel almost like her son was taking her ex's side, but apparently her son was not any better at getting along with his father than she had been, so he'd been staying with roommates ever since.

She had not seen any pictures of Brad in a while. He was the rare, and possibly only, college student who did not care about having a social media presence. She was expecting him to show up chubby from having the freedom of being out of both of his parents' houses and probably exercising it, as most college kids seem to do, by drinking too much. Renae was pleasantly surprised to see him show up at her door looking like a young man who knew how to take care of himself. He had his father's broad shoulders, but thankfully lacked the gut. His forearms were much bigger than she remembered.

She tousled his jet black hair before pulling him into a hug.

The first night was wonderful. She caught herself pestering him with all of the questions a mom should ask of her freshman son, but somewhere along the way, she changed gears. They discussed music, politics, and Brad's living situation. All through, Renae had mixed feelings. While she was enjoying being able to talk with her son like she would another adult, she felt a pang in her heart that the mommy/son talks she was used to seemed to be a thing of the past.

The second night, she discovered that Brad's physique must have come from a dedicated exercise regiment, because he was certainly not averse to drinking. He called her to let her know there was a party at the house of one of his friends from highschool, and that he had too much to drink to drive home safely.

There was a lecture waiting on her lips when he arrived the next day, but it was never delivered. He apologized profusely, and offered to give her a massage to make it up to her.

He'd always been a sweet boy, and had been giving her back rubs for about as long as she could remember. Brad was taking a course on massage therapy. The idea was for it to be his side job while he finished the rest of his educational career, because he could work very flexible hours and still make good money.

Renae had to admit that she started feeling a bit self conscious about her appearance. Brad explained that disrobing for a massage was normal, and that he'd already gotten used to working on people that way. He explained that it wasn't like they changed in front of him. They got ready, covered their backside with the towel, and waited. He even made the joke that the first skill his instructor taught was to knock before entering the massage room.

Renae stood there in her bra and panties, having slipped her leggings and shirt off already, having an argument with herself about following Brad's suggestion or keeping the underwear on. Brad was young, fit, and good looking. She had no doubt that he'd seen plenty of young, lithe, girls without their clothes on by now, both in and out of the massage program, and she didn't want him to be disgusted by his boring old mom's body. She stood there sucking in what little tummy she had, and running her fingers over her buttocks to see if she could feel cellulite. She did yoga several times a week, and her detailing business could get pretty physical, so she felt like she was in well above average shape for a thirty nine year old woman, or at least she had felt that way until her son had told her it was "okay to take everything off," because he was used to it.

Ultimately, she chided herself for being so ridiculous about it, and just laid on the table, because like any fledgling masseur, she guessed, Brad traveled with his own folding massage table, in her underwear. As if sensing her settle into position, Brad knocked at the door.

"I'm ready," she said.

Brad entered the room.

"Wow, mom," he said, "I guess I'm not the only one who has trouble following directions."

"It's been almost four years since a man has seen my body naked, I'd rather not have it be my son who breaks the streak."

"That's fair," he said with a chuckle.

The first thing Renae noticed was how warm her son's hands felt on her bare skin, and the second thing she noticed was how strong those hands were. He worked over the large areas of her back, getting the muscles warmed up. Everytime he snagged a finger or hitched going over the line of her bra, she felt stupid for not just doing it the way he was used to working.

When he really started digging, she felt like she was in heaven. She had not realized how much she needed this kind of thing in her life. In between Brad's comments about how tense certain areas were, and his general questions about her work and exercise routine, Renae became aware of a problem.

She was getting wet down there. At first, she felt revolted by her reaction to her son's touch and was very close to calling the whole thing off, but then reasoned with herself that it was just because she had not allowed anyone to touch her like that, if at all, in a long time. It felt very good to be cared for. Maybe a little too good. With the building warmth she was feeling in her abdomen and a bit below, she got a little carried away and caught herself letting out little moans as Brad kneaded his way through her knots.

"Wow, sorry," she said, and from the burning on her cheeks she knew she was blushing against the face rest on the table, "What you're doing just feels really good. You're a natural at this."

"Thanks, and don't worry about it. What happens on the massage table stays on the massage table."

"Now you've got me curious. How many times have you used this thing to get laid?"

Brad hitched mid motion and had to go back and start working the group of muscles again. Renae immediately felt embarrassed and stupid again for asking that.

"Zero. Between my regular course load, the massage program, and my job, I don't have the energy to get laid."

"Oh, come on. You're young and finally out of your parents' houses. You should have fun."

Just when her embarrassment had seemed to turn off the water works between her thighs, Brad's hands traveled down and started to work around her hips. He was making circles with his thumbs, she could feel his skin slide against her underneath the waistband of her panties, and there she was again, feeling her vagina starting to leak.

The little tugs against her panties were egging her on, and finally Renae couldn't take it anymore and said it would be okay to move them a little if it would make things easier on Brad. He replied by gently tugging them down so that she could now feel the waistband halfway down her ass, and she didn't even want to think about how it had felt when the part of her underwear that was trapped between her body and the table felt when it slid lower.

Then, when Brad started leaning in, going deeper into the muscles in her sciatic area, which translated to upper ass, she felt like he was just torturing her. She could feel herself rocking forward and back a little as he focused on the area, and the little bit of friction that transferred to her clit was dangerously close to making her cum.

How, exactly, she wondered, was she ever supposed to look him in the face again if he accidentally gave her an orgasm on the massage table? And then, she caught herself wondering, what if he can smell my arousal? She certainly could. He was breathing deeper, grunting a little, with the effort now. Part of her, the part that needed the release of orgasm, wanted to just close her eyes and imaging that gentle rocking was from someone, not Brad of course, giving her the kind of fucking she deserved. But that was the stupid part, Renae reminded herself. That was the same part that wondered if her nipples were going to leave permanent depressions in the top of the table, as hard as they were.

As embarrassing as getting off would have been, Reane realized she experienced genuine disappointment when she felt Brad return her waistband to the right place and begin another full back rub down, signalling the massage was coming to an end.

"I'll let you get dressed. I hope you enjoyed the massage."

"Very much," Renae said. She wondered if her reply had been too quick, or too emphatic, as Brad left the room and pulled the door shut behind him.

The first thing Renae did after getting up was to check the table. Her panties were damp, and she had soaked the small patch of the massage table that was between her legs. She could only hope that Brad hadn't noticed. She used the inside of her leggings to wipe it dry, and paused to lean down and give it the sniff test to see if she had permanently tainted her son's massage table with her juices. She really couldn't tell, and figured he probably sanitized it between sessions anyway, because the overriding scent was some kind of sanitizing wipe with maybe a lavender scent added.

She considered just rubbing her clit until she came right there, but figured it would be impossible to conceal that from Brad, so instead she focused on distracting herself from her arousal, trying to will her nipples to go soft, and getting fully dressed again.

Thankfully, a little later in the afternoon, Brad got an invite to another house party. He was in the middle of declining when she insisted that he go, that he should see his friends and have fun while he was in town, adding that there might be some cute girls there. Almost reluctantly, Brad agreed and left within the hour.

Renae's phone rang just after eight. It was Brad asking if she minded if he spent the night at his friend's place, and promising it would be the last night out like that for the rest of his visit. Renae told him that it was fine and asked him to be safe, then as soon as they hung up, she started thinking about the awesome orgasms she was about to give herself.

That was the real problem, she figured. She'd gone way too long without getting herself off. All that repressed arousal and sexual desire was just latching on to the first warm male body that came around. She was halfway through banishing that little bit of guilt about masturbation from her upbringing that had survived into adulthood with a rationalization that she owed it to Brad to take care of this so she could focus on being a mother, instead of a bitch in heat for the rest of his visit, when she started to feel silly for being so worried about what her reaction to getting touched had been.

She found the remote and clicked through what was available at that time of night until ultimately settling for an on demand movie from the service she always called "skinemax." It was not an outright porn flick, but there were a few really hot, intense, love scenes in it, and she'd always thought she'd resembled the female lead a bit.

Using the remote in her free hand, she skipped through everything in the movie that was not one of those scenes as her other hand was busy down the front of her leggings, rubbing her clit through her thin cotton panties. What started off at the gentle pace that usually worked for her quickly escalated into a furious motion that left her panting but not for quite the right reason. She cued back to the first sex scene and started again, wondering why, when she could usually make herself come in less than a few minutes, it seemed like all she could do then was get to the edge and frustrate herself.

Ah, she thought, this is one of those times. Renae almost never put her fingers, or any other object that was not a penis, into herself. Usually, she could come without any need for penetration, but this was not one of those times. She shoved her panties down with her leggings until they were a tangle between her ankles. She did not fully remove them, but chose instead to get into what one boyfriend had called the "welcome aboard" position when she was younger. Her back was flat on the seat of the couch, both legs bent at the knee, one laid on the seat, the other propped up against the cushion at the back. This gave her the access to herself that she needed, and let her also relax both legs, because it usually gave her a deeper feeling orgasm if she could get off while as relaxed as possible.

One hand continued its assault on her clit as the fingers of her other hand curved back and slid easily into her waiting wetness. It felt so fucking good to have something inside of her when she was that aroused that it didn't take very long for her to have the first orgasm. She followed up and was determined to keep going, but had to stop after four because she'd suddenly become too sensitive down there to keep the pressure up.

Renae let herself relax completely, just basking in those great post orgasm feelings, and even felt herself start to doze a little. She found her phone and set an alarm, planning to just rest a little before heading to bed. She liked how it felt in the muscles of her vagina to spend time spread open in a position like that.

She did not know how long she had slept, only that it was still dark and her alarm had not gone off. She wondered what had woken her up, when she realized it was a sound. The sound of the front door opening. As if confirming this, the very next sound was Brad's voice saying softly, "Mom, are you still up?"

Why did I do this on the couch? She screamed at herself in her head. Fortunately, she'd shut all the lights off, and the tv had apparently timed off as well, so there was a good chance Brad would make it to her guest room without seeing her there. But what if he turns on a light? She wondered. Oh my God, she thought, what if he tries to sit here to watch a movie? Why didn't I pull my pants up when I finished? Why didn't I pull them up when I heard the door? What the hell do I do now? Act like you're asleep, she told herself. Sure, yeah, just stick with that.

Renae could hear her son walking toward the couch. Closer. She heard him make a little surprised gasp. Then silence. No running footsteps in the opposite direction. No sobbing or screaming. Just silence. Well, except for his breathing. It sounded low and heavy. The breathing of a young man in lust for his mother? She couldn't help but to wonder.

She knew he was looking at her, he had to be, and so it was not long before she could imagine she felt heat on her body from his gaze. She imagined it traveled from her face down to her tits, down her belly, which she hoped was looking as flat as it felt, to the trimmed black nest of her bush, further down to her blissfully exposed vagina. She imagined the heat lingered there as his glance did, contemplating what it would feel like to be inside of her that way. All at once, Renae realized she was not imagining the heat between her legs. It must be one of his hands, she thought. He'd reached out to touch her there, but stopped, just far enough that he wasn't touching, but so close that she could feel warmth from his skin, or her own heat reflected back.

Part of her, a very large part actually, wanted his hand to sink that last fraction and embrace her sex. Other parts of her screamed that it was disgusting to think about her boy that way. Still other parts lamented that her boy had been raised so poorly as to molest his sleeping mother. But, all those thoughts fell away into silence as that wonderful warmth receded and then vanished. She heard Brad's footsteps retreat, and was just about to make a mad dash for her own bedroom when the footsteps returned. A soft warmth settled over her body from neck to ankles as her son covered her up with the blanket she'd given him for his bed.

In that moment, Renae realized, out of the whole world full of feeling she had racing through her, the one she felt the strongest was the most disturbing: regret that Brad had not taken advantage of her.

--

The next morning was quiet. Renae tried to get ahead of the impending awkwardness by making Brad's favorite breakfast, bacon and eggs. The sizzle, or the smells, brought him out of the guest room, but it was almost like he caught himself and stopped from meeting Renae's gaze.

After cooking, and then eating, in relative silence with her son, Renae decided that this wasn't just going to go away. This was one of those things they would have to talk about.

"So, about last night..." she said.

"We don't need to talk about it," Brad seemed nervous, waving his hands like he was swatting a fly, "It was my fault I changed my plans. You have every right to do... whatever in your house."

"You're not scarred for life, are you?" Renea tried a joke to test the waters.

"No." Brad answered almost too fast, "I mean, it was a surprise, but I get it."

He was chewing his lip. It was a habit he'd inherited from his mother, and she knew what it meant. He had something he wanted to say, but wasn't sure if he should.

"You seem really cool with this," Renae said, "But it's just a natural thing people do, so why not be cool?"

"Yeah," Brad said, "I'm not going to lie to you and tell you I don't do it."

Renae had not expected that to come up as a talking point. She caught herself wondering what that would look like, and quickly tried to chase it away with a change of subject. She was beginning to feel the warmth building between her legs.

"So, what made you change your mind last night?" She asked.

There was a strange pause before Brad answered, and Renae wondered if he thought she meant to change his mind about not doing whatever he had stood over her thinking about.

"There was a girl at the party, and we were hitting it off really well," Brad said.

"That sounds like a perfect reason to stay out all night. Why were you home early? Did she snore?"

"Mom!" Brad got defensive, "I didn't sleep with her. God, she was someone I just met. I mean, I think she wanted to, but we'd been drinking, and..."

"And what? Alcohol is how a lot of people work up the courage to get laid," Renae said, her strange intermittent arousal returning and giving her a bit of an edge to her voice.

"Okay, so its like this," Brad said, "I've never actually done it before. Had sex. I wanted it to be special. I know, I sound like a total girl."

"It is just sex," Renae said, "It feels good, and it is healthy for you, if you are safe. You're young, you should enjoy it!" She wondered if she was secretly championing him having sex with anyone in particular.

"Well, I never needed to," he said, "It's like what we talked about earlier. I could always, just, you know?"

"Take matters in hand?" She ribbed him.

"Mom! You know what I mean. If I want to get off, I can just get off. I'm not going to try and go find someone, another human being with their feelings and everything and just use them because I want to cum. I want the first time to be something more than that. It should be with someone I love because I love them, not because I want to get laid."

"That makes sense," Renae said, "But some day, in the very distant future, I would like to be a grandmother." She twirled a strand of her hair around her fingers.

"I'm no where near that yet," the young man protested, then he seemed to get an idea, "Hey, what were you watching last night, when you, you know?"

Renae was caught off guard by the sudden change of subject. At first, she felt that building warmth again, but figured Brad was just trying to make her feel uncomfortable to take the heat off of himself. Two can play that game, she thought.

"Just a movie. It has some really good scenes in it."

"My mom watches pay-per-view porn?" Brad almost started laughing.

"No, skinemax! It is not porn."

"You shouldn't be so down on porn, mom," Brad said, "I know one actress I think you'd like. She's older..."