Since I was twelve or thirteen, I'd been fantasizing about fucking my mother. Just like every other kid, huh? Well, the good Lord was obviously smiling upon me last week, because I actually got to do her.
See, unlike my older sisters, I didn't go off to college right after I finished high school. I had decided to work awhile first and save some money. Then I'd go off to school. Besides, I figured Mom could use a little help paying bills and everything. Well, that was 4 years ago, and I was still there. Now, at 22, I was making pretty good money working at a travel agency. I guess I've gotten complacent, but that's beside the point. I will eventually move out of the house. Whether it's to school or to my own place, I don't know yet.
Mom is 46. She and Dad have been amicably divorced for about 10 years now, I guess. We still see him at holidays and everything. He remarried shortly after the divorce and moved about 3 hours away from us. Mom hasn't remarried; she hasn't even had a serious relationship, that I know of, in the past ten years. She's not unattractive. She has, in fact, very beautiful features- nice, long, brown (if slightly graying) hair, pretty eyes, and an infectious laugh. And a killer set of breasts, I must add. She has let herself get bit overweight, but I still think she's the prettiest mom on the planet.
So, we have a pretty boring life. We both work during the day, come home, eat dinner, and watch TV. Occasionally, I'll have a date, or go out drinking with the boys, but I try not to do this too often. I feel too guilty leaving her alone.
It was on a night that I'd been at the bar, having a few drinks, that all of this occurred. I got home around one in the morning or so, a little tipsy and ready for some serious sleep. I walked up the stairs, removing my shirt. After stopping at the bathroom to take a REAL long leak, I was passing Mom's room on the way to my own. From inside her room, I heard something strange.
It sounded like moaning. No, not THAT kind of moaning, you perverts. It sounded like Mom was actually in some serious pain.
I knocked lightly on her door. "Mom, are you okay?"
"What?"
"I said, are you OK?", opening the door. I stuck my head inside to see.
She had her reading light on and was sitting at the edge of her bed, vigorously rubbing her lower right leg. It looked as if she had been crying.
"I got a sleep cramp in my leg, and it won't go away," she said painfully.
"Do you want my help?" I offered.
"If you don't mind. I've tried everything-- stretching, getting up and walking around the room, rubbing it myself. Nothing works, goddamnit."
"Here," I said, kneeling down beside the bed. "Let experienced hands take care of it." I had long been acknowledged as the undisputed massage master.
As I knelt, I glanced at her more closely, hoping to catch enough of a peek of something to fuel a masturbation session before I went to sleep. She was wearing a long T-shirt, panties, and nothing else. The light from her reading lamp caused enough of a silouhette for me to clearly make out her breasts, as they rose and fell with each breath.
I pulled her foot into my hand, propping it up on my thigh. Without raising my head, so as not to be obvious, I looked up between her thighs to the crotch of her panties. I could swear that I saw a few curly hairs sticking out. I developed an immediate hard-on.
I started to rub her calf muscle first, kneading and pulling with a strong but gentle touch. I had to admire her legs. I hadn't really ever noticed them before, but they were really nice.
"Is this OK, is it helping yet?" I asked.
"Mmmm, just keep it up, please," she said.
For about five minutes, I rubbed her tightened calf muscle in silence, until it had relaxed a little. The whole time, I kept taking peeks at her mound, wishing I could reach out and feel it.
"All better?" I asked, looking up.
She almost looked disappointed. "My thigh... my thigh hurts too."
