My Mother Uses Me
The Massage
It was 1995 and I was eighteen. Your typical stay at home introvert, living with his divorced mother. I had a job at a restaurant; Randall's, you can look it up. It's closed now, but back in the day it was a pretty nice spot to eat and have a drink. I gave Mom a hundred or so a month to stay there, putting the rest into savings, except for my "fun cash" for when I hung out with my friends.
I was your typical long-haired headbanger wearing metal t-shirts. Grunge was taking over my rock and metal, but some of it wasn't too bad. Kurt was dead and we were all still feeling it. What can I say, it was the 90's.
I was a pretty good kid, got into mischief but not enough that the cops were called, or if they were, I was never caught. My friends and I, that is.
My Mom was a chubby girl, about 5'5", A little over 200lbs, not too shabby in looks as far as middle-aged women go. It also helped that she had a nice pair of 34 DD's. She never had too much luck with the guys, or should I say, the good guys, couple sleeze-balls here and there. Now that I look back on it, maybe it runs in the family, because I haven't had much luck with women either.
My Mom had a back injury when I was little, and always seemed to keep aggravating it every couple of years. Slips, trips and falls, just sleeping wrong or pulling a muscle lifting something too heavy. She had started seeing a chiropractor, but that relief only lasted for a little while, and she couldn't afford to see the chiropractor more than once a month.
Enter the good son, and the massage.
So I had been giving my Mom massages for a while now. She would come home from a hard day at work - or I would come home from work - and she would would be in sweats and a tee relaxing on the couch, reading one of her romance novels with Fabio on the cover.
Today I was the one coming home from work. Mom was on the couch reading. The stereo was on playing a Dolly Parton record, my mom was a country loving gal.
"Donny dear, can you give me a massage? It was really rough at work today." She said, resting her open book on her ample bosom.
"Sure Mom, no problem," I said.
"Wonderful!" She chirped. She placed a bookmark to save her page and set the book down on the coffee table.
Then she assumed the position. The coffee table was fitted with cushions on either end with the table in the middle. It was over one of these cushions she would lay. Her knees on the floor, her ample bottom on full display. Her arms crossed under her head to rest. Her breasts mashed into the cushion.
"Um," I swallowed. She seemed to wiggle her bottom in anticipation. "Let me quick change out of my work clothes. I smell like burgers and fries."
"Okay," she said, almost dreamily as her head rested in her crossed arms.
I went to my room and shucked my clothes. I threw on my own sweatpants and a tee, and headed back into the living room. It was just another massage after all. Boy was I wrong.
The first thing I noticed is that her knees were apart and the sweatpants were snug against her cleft, accentuating her plump pussy. I took a deep breath to steady myself and walked over to the end of the coffee table perpendicular to my mothers back, and went to my knees. Like taking communion.
I began as normal, working her shoulders and neck, then down her spine. Just enough on her soft sides to be polite and not perverse. Then onto the love handles just above her hips. It was magical, watching her bottom shake and wiggle as I worked her lower back. I appreciated the movement, I had seen it time after time, so I was desensitized to it. It was just my moms butt wiggling. Then rinse and repeat, starting from the top and working my way down again.
As I began to work her lower back she spoke. "Donny?" She paused. "Is my shirt in the way?"
"Not at all, Mom."
"Why don't you go ahead and lift it a little, I feel like it's in the way."
"Okay," I said, innocent and naive. I hadn't had a girlfriend yet. Never kissed or touched or did anything. Sure, I masturbated to fantasies involving the other girls at school and at work. But that was all they were, fantasies. And now here I was, raising the bottom of my moms shirt to expose the soft skin underneath.
I started working my fingers into the soft skin. After a moment, there came a grateful sigh from my mom, "That feels a lot better," she softly moaned, "Don't you think, Donny?"
"Uh, yeah!" I was trying not to get turned on, immersing myself into the senses of touch and sight. Memorizing every curve and blemish and freckle. The texture of her skin, so soft and inviting. "I can feel the difference." Like welcoming me home.
After a few moments she spoke up again, "Raise it higher then, get my whole back, it feels wonderful!" My Mom said. Silently I complied, lifting her shirt higher and higher, she raised her belly so more of her shirt could be moved, and just like that it was bunched around her breasts. I soaked in the sight before me for a few precious moments before getting back to work on her muscles and the innocent massage.
"You're missing the area under my bra," she said, almost pleadingly. I stopped my massage as I processed what she was saying. "Are you getting tired, Donny?" she asked.
"N-no. I'm good." I then added, almost proudly, "I'm young, I got stamina!"
She wiggled a little beneath my fingers. "Then unhook my bra to get the muscles under there." I slowly reached for the hooks and fumbled and fumbled and fumbled. "Here, let me." She lifted herself up off the cushion and expertly unhooked her bra and the straps fell to her sides. Her shirt was still bunched up underneath her arms and she absently relieved herself of the pesky garment, tossing it to the floor. Her full breasts held the bra as she lay back down, her head nestled into her folded arms. "Get back at it, champ!"
Her bare naked back exposed before me like a painters canvas. I soaked it all as I took a deep breath. Then I dove back into my massage. I felt her soft skin beneath my fingertips, I traced her beauty marks, I fondled her freckles. Up and down her spine I worked the tight muscles.
I was hard now, I constantly stole glances at the sides of her breasts, and ground my erection into the side of the coffee table, my hips moving in circles.
"Are you okay?" she asked suddenly.
"Y-yeah, why?" I stammered, pausing only a moment in my massage, then digging my fingers back into that soft flesh.
"You're wiggling your hips," she giggled.
"Oh-oh!" I needed to think fast. "I was just moving with the movements, kind of getting my whole body into the motions." I continued my massage.
"Hmmm, Speaking of hips, maybe reach down there and get my glutes." She looked over her shoulder at me.
"Glutes?" I asked. I had heard the word before but had forgotten the meaning.
"Massage your mom's big old butt," she said, emphasizing it with a wiggle, still looking over her shoulder at me, reading my face and gauging my reaction.
Then I remembered what glutes meant. "Oh! Okay. Yeah, no problem." My hands glided slowly down her back, over her love handles, to the edge of her sweatpants, then into uncharted territory. I didn't know what I was doing, I never massaged a butt before. So I just kind of squeezed them and rolled the muscles in circles. Really just opening and closing her butt-crack, over and over and over again. I must have been doing a good job because she took a deep breath and let it out slowly, letting out these little moans of approval.
"How is that, Mom?" I asked, opening and closing her cheeks.
She gave a thoughtful "Hmm," before answering. "Maybe the angle would be better if you were behind me. That way you're not reaching over me. It will all be right in front of you." Again she looked over her shoulder at me, reading my face, gauging my reaction.
"Uh, okay," I said, still so naive. I moved behind her. I noticed that her eyes looked down to my waist before she rested her head on her arms again. Did she see my erection? Could she tell I was so hard? I looked down at my sweatpants and the obvious bulge hiding under there. I thought, "Great, she must think I'm some kind of pervert, getting turned on by his own mother." Boy was I wrong.
Her legs were together so when I got behind her I positioned my knees on either side of her. Her plump pussy still snug in the sweatpants. Tentatively I reached out to her buttocks, grabbing them in my hands, giving them a soft squeeze, then dragging my thumbs up either side of her cheeks to the top.
This made her moan. "Right there," she moaned softly.
So I continued the best I could, massaging her butt. Opening and closing her cheeks, running my thumbs up and down her crack. My cock was raging in my sweatpants. I needed to jerk-off so bad. Precum was making me all sticky down there. I gazed achingly at her butt, then up her naked back to where her wavy brown hair framed her neck, the bra straps at her side, her freckles and beauty marks. She wasn't laying her head in arms anymore, she was up on her elbows on the cushion. Oh my God, what was going on!
"Honey?" She asked.