I saw this book on how to become a masseuse/masseur on my son David's desk and asked him about it.
"I just thought I might be able to pick up a few bucks giving massages. You do a lot, tuition is expensive, so I thought I could help out a bit by making some extra money." I certainly wasn't going to stop him from earning his own money. "I've already practically memorized the book, the only problem is that I have to find someone to actually massage, unless
you
wanna volunteer. I'll get the practice I need and you'll get free massages. Sound good?"
My ex-husband never gave massages, unless it was to the whores that he screwed around with during our marriage. And I certainly could use a good massage. "Sure. Why not?"
He didn't have a massage oil warmer, or massage oil for that matter, so later that evening he put a bottle of baby oil into some hot water that he'd just taken off the stove. A few minutes later, David asked if I was ready for my massage. Actually I had been looking forward to it all day.
"Yeah," I said.
"Alright. Uhhh...we don't have a massage table just yet, so we'll use your bed. Take your clothes off, wrap a small towel around your waist, lie on your bed and let me know when you're ready."
"You want me to take
all
my clothes off?"
"Of course. You don't give somebody a massage through their clothes, do you? If you went to a professional he'd tell you the same thing. Let me know when you're ready." I went upstairs. At no time did it occur to me that I wouldn't have any clothes on, but in retrospect it only makes sense. Neither did it occur to me that my young son would be touching my almost naked body. I changed and tried not to think about it. Then I laid on my stomach and called to David. A few moments later he came in.
"I downloaded some New Age music, the sound of waves on the beach, the rain forest, whales, some soft classical music. Which one do you want." I always loved the beach, so I told him to put that on.
"Take a few deep breaths and clear your mind. If your mind is tense, your body will always be tense no matter what
I
do." I forgot about my boss, my coworkers, my ex, everything, and tried to imagine I was lying on the sand at the shore. David, meanwhile, bent my lower leg back and started to massage one of my feet. The warmth from the oil on his hands penetrated deeply and the result was incredible. What walking, running and tight, uncomfortable shoes had done to my feet in the past thirty seven years was now disappearing within seconds.
After an all to brief amount of time spent on one foot, David began to massage the other. Then he went after my calf muscles and thigh muscles, one by one, kneading the baby oil into my flesh and working each portion of my legs until they achieved a state of relaxation I'd never experienced before.
"Alright so far?" he asked.
"Perfect," was the most accurate word to describe my current condition, but it was still an understatement. The warmth of the oil penetrated my back as my son's hands glided up my spine then down my sides. Or maybe it wasn't the oil. Maybe it was the heat generated by my own body as I became flushed from the physical pleasure I was receiving. All my ex ever focused on was my mouth, tits and pussy, but in the past few minutes I'd experienced more bodily gratification than any sexual encounter I'd ever had in my entire life. David's hands eased up to my shoulders and neck and I was intrigued as to how someone as strong as my son could impart such a gentle and tender caress. I decided then not to ruin the moment by overanalyzing it. I simply let myself enjoy what was happening.
"Let me get another towel," he said. He came back and placed it on the bed next to me. "Lie on your back and use that to cover up your...top." He turned around and I was more than half tempted to just throw the other towel away. I was even tempted to get rid of the one I was using to conceal my pussy. I'd never felt so in tune with my body before. I was no longer a drone for big business or a vote for some self-serving politician or a mortgage holder with debt and obligations. I felt like a free and carefree human being again and I didn't want to submit to the requisite covering on my body that society dictates. I wanted to feel free and natural.
But I covered my tits with the towel anyway. Civilization was still wielding its control over me.
"O.K." I said. David placed one of my hands on his shoulder and began to rub my arm up and down. I looked at him and cursed the fact that he was my son. If he was anybody else I would have pulled him down, shoved my tongue into his mouth, ripped the towel off and put his hands on my tits. He was a phenomenal masseur. He had removed virtually all the of tension that was created by stress. Unfortunately, he was replacing it all with sexual tension.
After he attended to my other arm and hand, he went to work on my throat. I always loved the feel of a man's hand on my throat. The idea of a man having the power of life and death over me. Or maybe my own sense of helplessness and being at the mercy of someone else...the whole rape fantasy thing. But even better was when my son began caressing my chest. He never went lower than the top of my tits, but I was still getting so aroused that I could feel some juice trickling out of my tingling pussy and slowly rolling down my thighs.
The attention he gave to my tummy and legs only increased the flow of liquid streaming down my thighs and onto the towel. If David smelled my horniness he never let on, which was unfortunate. If he had known that I was primed and more than ready to get laid, he might have been willing to fuck me silly. Teenaged boys can be very accommodating that way. Almost as bad as not feeling his dick inside me was the fact that I was so caught up in my sexual awakening, I didn't even realize that the massage was over.
"Well, how did it feel?" he asked.
I wished I could tell him that it made me feel like throwing off these cumbersome rags and demanding that he shove his big, fat cock into my pussy and fuck me until a gallon of cum came bursting out of my cunt. But "Very good," was my only reply.
"Do you think I could make any money from it?"
"I'm sure a lot of women would happily pay to feel the way I do right now," I said, "provided you were willing to consummate the deal," I thought to myself.
I was more than delighted when the following night he asked "Should I heat up the baby oil for your massage now or do you want to wait until later?" as if it was automatically understood that we would be doing it again.
"Let's wait 'til later," I said. This time I wanted him to pleasure my body just before I went to sleep. Unlike last night, I would be ready for bed as soon as he finished. I wouldn't have to get up to pee and ruin the renewing touch David would impart to my feet. And since I would have the towel around my waist, I could just masturbate after David leaves. In fact, I was already getting wet thinking about lying in the goo that would result, in large part, because of my son's magnificently talented hands.
The second and third night went very much as the first. By the fourth night I was automatically relaxed knowing what was about to come. I wasn't sure if I was Pavlov's dog or just a bitch in heat. But that fourth night something else happened. Instead of my son's palms gliding up my spine and down my sides, he went up my sides, all the way up until his fingers were clearly touching the sides of my tits. Then he went down my spine and back up my sides to my tits. I said nothing, of course, and I couldn't be sure if my son did it on purpose or accidentally. I was hoping that it was on purpose but I couldn't be sure. Either way, it got my pussy flowing to the point where there was a small but noticeable wet spot on the towel when I turned over. I assumed he didn't see it, but the following night I used a thicker towel.
Then on the sixth day David said "Don't wrap a towel around your waist tonight. Some women might want other parts of their bodies massaged too, you know, like their butt or their breasts, so I'll practice on those places tonight."
My heart jumped into my throat, but I instinctively said "I don't know about that." I immediately wanted to bite my tongue off for what I just said.
"Well then we can forget about the massage altogether because I pretty much know what I'm doing with the rest of the body. I don't need to practice any more on
those
