It started innocently enough. My son, Cam, though 19, still lives at home while he goes to school. Over the holidays, he had spent several nights at his friend's apartment, which usually means they stay up to all hours and then he falls asleep on a couch or the floor. So when he returned, his back was aching. He had had his girlfriend of over a year, Brittany, giving him back rubs, but asked, as he walked through the door, if I would have time to work on him.
"Sure honey. I'll be down later," I said.
I kept busy through most of the evening and almost forgot my promise. It was around 11:00 when I finally remembered and went down to his room, the only bedroom on that floor, to see him. I said goodnight to my husband as he headed off to bed saying, "Cam needs a back rub. I'll be there in while."
Cam visibly brightened as I entered.
"I didn't want to bother you mom. Oh man, my back really hurts. It has been for a couple days. Brittany has been massaging it, but it didn't really help."
"I'm sorry. I guess I just let it slip my mind, but I can help now. Roll over on your stomach."
He eagerly complied, taking his shirt off in the process so I wouldn't have to lift it up. I climbed onto the bed, placing my legs on either side of his hips, essentially sitting on his bottom. I started on his shoulders, my hands moving in tandem as I made scrunching motions with my fingers and then a circular pattern as I slipped down to his shoulder blades. He let out a grunt of satisfaction as I found the source of this discomfort, in center, along his spine. I rubbed my palms together, to create some warmth and laid them on the affected area. Then using my finger tips, I combed the skin, as if detangling the knotted muscles.
I could feel the tension leave his frame and he breathed more deeply, releasing the occasional small noise of pleasure. I must confess, I greatly enjoyed my task, primarily because my interaction with him had naturally decreased as he grew up and found pursuits outside our home. He rarely required my attention, and certainly not for physical comfort, aside from these occasional massages, so I took great pleasure from these instances.
I had always thought, like most mothers do, that my son was enormously good looking. His face handsome with a strong chin. His frame was well made with very broad shoulders, tapering in the classic V shape to his waist. His arm and chest muscles, perfectly defined as was the six pack on his torso. That would be enough to appeal to the girls, but his personality sealed the deal. Sometimes mischievous and sly, but always he displayed good humor and made them laugh. Looks and charm, a double threat that often eased his parent's wrath when he'd done something wrong.
I mused on that as I continued to manipulate his muscles and worked down his back. I lowered my hands with each circular stroke, until I arrived at the top of his butt, again using my fingertips to pull imaginary tangles. He must have unbuttoned his jeans before lying down as the waistband had slid down exposing his boxers which were very low on his hips, allowing me to reach bare skin, right to his tail bone. As I worked on that area, he rocked to one side then flattened out again, with a sigh.
I started once again at the top of his body and then slowly and more methodically, with lighter touching, I descended until I returned to his lower torso.
"Mmmmmmmm...., " he said. "That feels so good."
In all this time, he hadn't said a word. It surprised me how quiet we both had been.
"Good, I'm glad it's helping. Does it hurt at the bottom of your spine?"
"Yes, can you rub that more," he asked.
"Sure," I replied then went back to it.
As I went through my routine, I became mesmerized by my activity. Massage, of course, has a sensual element I've always enjoyed and though I knew Cam is my son, my own sexual energy was clearly present. I had always ignored it in the past, but I was now aware he was moving in some kind of rhythm under me. That, shockingly, sent a thrill through my pelvis. I couldn't be getting off, could I?
"Why did you stop?"
"Huh? Wasn't this enough?" I tried desperately to cover and to find a reason to leave. I was embarrassed and disappointed in myself.
"No. Can you please do a little more?" He was wheedling me.
"O.K. Sure." I was so flustered I didn't want to behave guiltily so I resumed.
I breathed deep, then went back to the "safe" area of his upper back.
"No, mom. My lower back."
"Alright honey."
I did as he asked, trying hard to focus on nothing else but the fact he was my son. It didn't work, I couldn't do it. As I continued my efforts, he moved under me, not quite undulating, nothing as perceptible as that, but in some kind of pattern that insinuated sex and the effect on me was unmistakable. I could feel tingles in my pussy. Now, I had to wonder, was he also getting off on me?
"Mom, please. Just a little more?"
"Uh, are you sure?"
"Yes. Just a few more minutes."
"Just a few, then I'm done."
I was so confused and excited. I didn't want to run away for fear of raising suspicions or making him feel uncomfortable, but I would not be able to keep this up for much longer. The heat in my pussy was distracting. I was sure I was moist. This was so forbidden, to obtain sexual gratification in this fashion, but it only served to heighten my arousal. Intoxicated by these feelings, I was not thinking straight. Once again I became lost in the sensation of hands on skin and my labia pressing against his bottom through the material of my jeans. If we kept this up, I was truly in danger of climaxing.
In a momentary lapse of judgment, at least I told myself that later, I remained seated on his rump and then, inexplicably, I allowed myself to cum. Not with any vigor, but quietly, letting the buzz creep from my clit, along my thighs and up my torso. It was shattering. I struggled to keep my breathing even and hands moving as if I were still massaging Cam.
I couldn't immediately discern if he knew what had just occurred. At loss as for what to do next, I resumed my task. Possibly a just a bit longer and then I could make my guilt ridden escape, but that was not to be. In just a few seconds, Cam released a groan and his body became very still. Oh my gosh, he too had cum. Stunned, I stopped.
"Mom?" Cam's voice was very low.
"Yes", I managed to choke out.
"That was good. Thank you."
"You're welcome dear." I assumed at that point, we wouldn't be discussing what just happened and I couldn't utter the necessary words to start it off anyway. I lifted my leg to dismount him and stood up and turned to go.
"Mom?"
"Yes."
"If my back hurts tomorrow, can I have another massage?"
Taken aback though I was, there was only one answer I could give, "of course Cam." I left the room.
Once clear of Cam's vicinity, I nearly collapsed. So many conflicting feelings overtook me, chief amongst them, I had a sexual climax with my son. How would I ever face him again? Would he feel guilty and be unable to speak to me. I didn't want to damage our relationship. He could be embarrassed or worse, angry at me, and just move out.
I staggered up the stairs in terrible misery.
Morning dawned uncharacteristically bright for a winter day. Or maybe I shrank from it as I felt it like it was a spotlight shining on the shame that overwhelmed me. I could barely make it out of bed and to work. I doubted that I really ever went to sleep so much as passed out from exhaustion. As Cam's classes would not start for another two weeks, it wasn't surprising that I didn't see him before I left.
When I arrived home that afternoon, I was grateful to go directly to my room for a shower in an attempt to both revive my aching body and wash my "sins" away, as it were. I stood under almost scalding water until it ran cold. Laying on my bed, wrapped in my robe, I contemplated what I would do when I eventually left the confines of the bedroom. Could I just go on with my business and if Cam was here, wait for him to come across me? Should I seek him out? The whole proposition was rendered moot when he knocked on my door.
"Mom, are you in there?" He didn't sound upset.
