tagIncest/TabooThe Massage

The Massage

byMany Feathers©

It had been one of the worst years of my life. I had just gone through a very messy divorce, which had left me strapped financially. Then news came about my father being killed in an automobile accident. Being an only child, I knew my mother would be devastated, especially living alone and having no one else to comfort her during this critical period. As such, I made the only decision that made any sense under the circumstances, I moved back home.

Those first few weeks were filled with a lot of tension and stress. There was so much to do and sift through, but eventually things began to settle back down into some form of normalcy once again. After work we would often sit down for a nice home-cooked meal which mom enjoyed doing for me, and which admittedly I looked forward to as my ex-wife was no kind of cook at all. We would most often then settle in for a movie, laughing, sometimes crying, but thoroughly enjoying one another's company, something we hadn't really done in years.

One evening we happened across a movie called "Full Body Massage". It was erotic, sensual, without the sex. Watching it, I became aroused, and not just because of the nudity, nor the attributes of the actress that were nice to look at either, but because of a memory that came back to me every time I glanced over towards my mother.

When I was young, and after having a particularly hard day, mom would often ask me to rub her back for her. She would lie face down on the couch, I would crawl up and straddle her butt, then lift her blouse, or tee-shirt up around her neck, undo her bra, and proceed to massage her back for her. It was never more than that, and initially was as innocent as it could be. But I did begin to play a curious game with myself, though back then, I'm not even sure I knew what it was I was doing, nor did I ever have intentions of anything ever happening either.

After a time, as I continued to massage mom's back, I would very often include massaging her sides, which would bring me into close contact with just the beginnings of that extra bit of soft flesh just beneath her armpits as I worked my fingers delicately during her massage. For some odd reason, it had become a game with me to see how long, and then how far I could go before she would either shift and reposition herself to prevent my fingers from probing where they shouldn't be, or smile, sit up and end the massage session all together. Mother never said anything to me, one way or the other. There was never a cautionary word, nor a hint that she was aware of my silly game being played. But if she sensed it, or knew what I was doing, she was careful to allow only so much before ending it before I got very far. Very often, long afterwards when I had retired to my bedroom to sleep, I would masturbate with the excitement of whatever progress I had imagined I'd achieved, whether real or fictional in my mind. Again, and it wasn't the thought of this being my mother that excited me, because I had somehow distanced myself from that train of thought. It was simply the "game" the idea that my fingers were in such close proximity to a "breast" that excited me, that and nothing more.

In time of course, I grew up and as I did, the game ended. One that I never did win nor achieve reaching my ultimate goal. I found myself smiling in remembrance of those times, innocent as they truly were, yet exciting too in their own unique little way.

"You're smiling."

"What?" I turned facing towards my mother. She was smiling back at me though with a curious expression on her face.

"Something about the movie?"

"Oh yeah...in a way I guess," I replied feeling a blush begin to spread. "Was just remembering something."

She laughed, "Yeah, me too...it's been a long time since I've even had a massage," she finished.

"You want one?" I said half-jokingly. She giggled like a schoolgirl at the mere mention of it, shaking her head "no". But even as she did, I saw the slight hesitation as she'd considered it. "Really mom, I'd be glad to rub your back for you, just like I used to. Heavens knows you've gone through a lot lately, all that stress..." I left off saying.

At fifty-three, mom was still very, very attractive. She had always worn her hair shoulder length, which gave her an even younger appearance, but she'd also maintained her "girlish" figure as she called it through daily exercise and eating healthy foods.


"Come on," I said standing up from the couch. "Lay down on your stomach and I'll rub your back for you just the way I used to."

The memory, and the image of the "game" suddenly came rushing back to me. I was only wearing a tank-top and pair of sweat shorts. I felt my cock lurch with that old familiar interest, and immediately chastised "it" and myself for doing so. The last thing I needed was to stand there with an erection that would be impossible to conceal under the circumstances.

"Well, ok...that really would feel nice," she conceded as she grabbed one of the throw pillows and positioned herself face down on the couch. Suddenly I was transported back in time, no longer twenty years younger than my mother, but suddenly that much younger self that had so enjoyed playing the "game", one in which I had never achieved reaching my ultimate goal. And even as I positioned myself over my mother's butt, just as I had done so many years ago, I was smiling, nervous, as well as excited as I wondered at what I was actually doing here, or thinking I was doing here.

And like before, I lifted her tee-shirt up towards her shoulders, and then undid her bra just as I had always done before. But unlike those times, and without a word one way or the other, I saw mom pull her tee-shirt up and over her head, tossing it off one side towards the floor, then wiggling, without revealing anything, as she likewise discarded her bra.

"Much better," she said simply, folding her arms beneath her, settling her head comfortably down into the pillow.

I think I had seen my mother nude just once. I'd certainly seen her in various stages of undress, but that fleeting image of her entirely nude when I had once stumbled stupidly into the bathroom as she was preparing to bathe had stuck with me. And now, though all I was looking at was her bare back, that image of her suddenly sprang to mind, and once again I felt the unwelcomed lurch of my prick as it too remembered the image, and the after affects as I later on had crawled into bed.

I spent a great deal of time on her back, far longer than I ever had in a single sitting. The only sound she made, the occasional sigh, the near purr of contentment as I worked and kneaded her sore muscles. As I sat on her butt, I once again saw myself, those initial tentative strokings up and down her sides, inching ever further upwards, one centimeter at a time. As I sat there, I found myself massaging her sides now, once again the game being played inside my head, each centimeter of advancement causing me to hold my breath, so sure that any moment now, mom would shift, reposition herself, her arms or worse, sit up pulling her top back down, ending the massage. Only in this case, I realized, she wouldn't be able to do that, this time she was completely bare on top, and the idea of what she would do when the massage actually came to an end also intrigued and aroused me even more.

"Bobby? Would you mind doing my legs for me as well?"

She hadn't called me "Bobby" since I'd left home. The sound of my boy-hood name made me laugh.

"What's so funny?" she asked curiously.

"You called me Bobby," I replied. "It's been years since you've called me by that name."

For a brief second she said nothing. "Sorry, guess it's just because I was half out of it here, your massage feels so good, sort of took me back in time," she replied almost apologetically.

"No need to be, I'm feeling the same way, though admittedly, I don't ever remember massaging your legs for you either."

"You don't have to if you don't want..."

"No, I do...but once again to be honest, I think for me to do any good here, you're going to have to take off your Levi's!"

"You don't mind?" she questioned tentatively. "I'd just be in my panties, though I could run into the bedroom and put a pair of my shorts on."

"Oh for hells sakes," I told her. "You're my mother, don't be ridiculous, it's not like I haven't seen you naked before," I replied before I could reconsider the sound of that. But she laughed.

"Oh you have, have you? I don't recall a time when you might have."

"Well, just once," I said honestly. "But I saw you plenty of times running around the house in just your bra and panties, no difference here."

"When?" She said ignoring everything else I'd just told her.

"When what?"

"When did you see me naked?"

So I told her about the bathroom incident. Told her how I had accidentally barged in on her desperate in need of a pee. The image of that experience once again coming to mind...but there was more. Suddenly, there was more. She wasn't in the tub, or even the shower, she was sitting there on the toilet, but she wasn't going to the bathroom, and she wasn't shaving her legs or anything like that either. Suddenly I remembered, something at the time made no sense to me, so I had not thought about it again, until now.

"Oh yeah, I'd almost forgotten about that," she said turning slightly to one side in order to look at me directly in the face. She was blushing. "What do you remember?" she asked hesitantly.

I lied, laughing nervously. "Very little...it was a LONG time ago," I reminded her. "I think you were just getting in the tub, so it wasn't like I really saw anything. Often you called me into the bathroom to tell me something, but you were always careful to slink down beneath the bubbles whenever you did."

She looked at me quietly for a moment, digesting what I'd just told her. "So seeing me partially naked now doesn't bother you?"

"You're my mother," I said simply, as though that explained everything. Then added, "Your pants?"

"Ok, just close your eyes for a second," she instructed. I did. Heard movement as she shucked off her jeans, repositioning herself back down on the couch again. "Ok," she said somewhat breathlessly, "you can look now."

I have to admit, even though I was prepared for this, I wasn't. Seeing my mother lying there on the couch the way she was took me a little by surprise. I'd expected 'granny' panties or something I guess, she wasn't wearing those, she was wearing a thong! What I saw instead was her twin ass cheeks staring up at me, and they were actually still taut, perfectly molded with skin as smooth as any twenty year old.

"Wow!" I actually said before realizing I'd spoken the word aloud.

"What? You expected me to be wearing granny pants?"

I actually did laugh at that one. "Yeah, guess I was. Never thought you would wear something like that at..."

"At my age?" she finished for me.

I didn't respond to that verbally, but reached up instead and began working her calves.

"There's some lotion on the nightstand next to my bed," she said simply.

I stood, heading off into the direction of her bedroom when I noticed that my unencumbered erection was preceding me.

"Fuck!" I thought to myself. "What's up with that?" Then I laughed, inwardly. "I KNOW what's up with that," I actually said aloud.

"Robert?"

"Yeah?" I called back to her.

"You say something?"

I realized I had, but replied. "Where'd you say it was?" Pretending stupidity.

"On the nightstand!"

"Oh, yeah!"

I grabbed it, but announced myself as I prepared to re-enter the living room. There was no hiding my erection, not without drawing even more attention to it. All I could hope for was to let her know I was coming, and as she herself was nude, that she would once again simply lay face down with her head in the pillow so as not to accidentally expose herself. As I'd hoped, that's exactly the way I found her when I entered.

"Got it!"

"Ah Robert? If you wouldn't mind, would you mind doing my back again? Only this time with the lotion? My skin really is pretty dry."

"Ah, sure..." I half stammered, repositioning myself on her nearly exposed ass, careful so as not to come into contact with her, though the direction 'it' was pointing in at the moment, made any prospect of that impossible.

"Make sure you warm it up first," she cautioned me.

I filled my hands, then worked them together until the lotion was considerably warmer before applying it on to her.

"How's that?"

"Wonderful," she actually purred.

Long moments passed without another word between us. I continued working her back, finding it much easier now with the aid of the soothing lotion. And as I did, once again, the "game" came to mind. I allowed my hands to begin working along her sides, really digging into her flesh this time, pushing, then pulling as I worked up and down, up and down. Each pass, allowing my finger tips to creep that much higher, watching as I did, seeing the fleshly tid-bit of breast flesh oozing out from beneath her protective arms like syrup slipping away from a pancake. Which is when she moved.

"Oh...sorry!" I exclaimed.

"Hmmm?" she half moaned.

"Maybe she didn't know...maybe it hadn't registered," I thought, and said nothing. I'd been working my hands up beneath her just like I always did. But she had lifted slightly, as though to more comfortably position herself, but she had done so the very instant that I had slid my hands upwards. The simultaneous movement had placed her right breast firmly within my grasping hand. It was there only for a second, the briefest of contacts, but I had actually touched my mother's breast, felt the hardness of her nipple, though even then I recounted that, wondering if it had simply been my over-active imagination.

I went back to massaging her back, my erection even harder than before, now cognizant of that fact, careful as I leaned forward and upwards to ensure that 'it' once again, didn't come into contact with her.

"That feels good," she announced, "but my sides still feel pretty tight, would you mind working on them some more?"

"Ah sure," I replied. "But to do a really good job, you should probably quit laying on your arms. Then I can work on them a little easier." Once again there was a moment of silence. "Robert?"

"Yeah?" I responded in a 'Bobby-like' voice.

"Would it embarrass you too much if I were to turn over on my back? I could place a towel or something over my boobs if it would. Then you could work my hips and sides a little easier."

"Of course not!" I said in a non-threatened, non-worried, all grown up now sounding Robert-like tone of voice. "Don't be silly!"

And I was fine with that, until I stood allowing her to roll over onto her back. I followed her gaze, and horror struck me. But as I looked up, she had closed her eyes, no indication of shock, worry or concern on her face that she had seen my obvious condition. "Think I have ok tits for an old broad?" she asked suddenly.

"You're not old," I said defensively. "And yeah...you've got great looking tits!" Once again, having heard myself say that, I imagined her hearing it the way it must have sounded. Her eyes opened, and she smiled.

"Thanks for saying that, even if it's not true. It's been a while since I've heard anyone, including your father say anything like that to me."

"Well they are!" I said trying to sound as complimentary as possible without sounding like some horny teenage kid, though in truth, I was beginning to feel like one.

"Really?"

"Yeah...really!" And then I surprised myself, AND my mother by giving them both a quick affectionate little squeeze. The moment I had done that, I figured the massage was over. Already I could see mother suddenly sitting up, dislodging me from my sitting position within her lap, and bolting for the bedroom. She didn't. Instead, she merely closed her eyes and sighed.

"Been a while since they've even been touched," she whispered nervously.

I coughed, trying to clear my head, trying to think of the right thing to say...something to say anyway.

"So you wouldn't mind it if I went ahead and massaged them with a little lotion for you then?"

"No," she said softly...simply.

"Game...set...match!" I thought inwardly. Never in all my wildest imaginations did I think I would ever get to this point, let alone touch them with my fingertips. Now, here I was sitting on my mother's thighs, sporting a rock-hard erection which I still wasn't sure she hadn't seen, gazing down at her still very beautiful breasts, each tipped with a light brown tiny erect nipple, just waiting for me to actually begin caressing them.

"Yeah, caressing them," I thought to myself. I certainly wasn't massaging them, I was caressing them both, simultaneously. And as I did, I found myself paying particular attention to her nipples, those taut hard little nipples that were becoming even harder, firmer if that were possible.

"Ohhh," she moaned outwardly, unabashedly.

"Feel good?" I pressed, hearing the catch in my own voice, surprised by all of this, surprised to find myself playing with my own mother's exquisite looking breasts, even more surprised, that she was allowing it.

"Yes, but we shouldn't be...you shouldn't be," she finally did manage to say. "It's...it's...not right."

And though she'd said that, and though I had heard her, I didn't stop, and neither did she make any attempt to dislodge me, or force my hands away. Something she could have very easily done.

"We're not doing anything wrong," I said simply. "I'm just giving you a massage, and besides, massages are supposed to feel good aren't they?" I argued lamely.

"Yeah, but that's a naughty kind of feel good," she admitted, allowing her eyes to close firmly once again, as though she was afraid to look into my eyes, in fear of whatever she might find there. "And I don't think that I'm supposed to be feeling the naughty kind of feel good."

"Then don't think of it in those terms," I offered. "Just let it be a feel good 'thingy' and let it go at that."

I'd given her an out, as lame as it was, and she took it. I continued to massage/caress her breasts, finding with each handful of tit-flesh that I held, my cock seemed to be magically growing in proportion to those thoughts. For a brief moment, I even imagined the bizarre comparison of a Jack and the Beanstalk-like image of my enormous cock wedged comfortably between my mother's breasts.

"You're making me sticky."

"What?" I opened my eyes, they'd been closed. I followed her amused gaze, and once again to my horror, saw what she had so openly referred to. The front of my light grey sweat shorts was soaked thru and thru. A very large round circular spot had spread across the front of them, the excess leakage of my desire dripping down onto her exposed flesh with utter disregard of my precarious positioning. "Oh fuck! Mom! I'm sorry!" It was I who suddenly dashed from the room, into my own bedroom. Though I had closed the door, I hadn't locked it, though I sat on the edge of my bed in complete and total horror with myself. She knocked, but didn't ask to be invited in, she simply came in. And she'd done nothing to cover herself, her breasts still fully exposed, though she did fold one arm across herself as she entered the room, taking a seat beside me on the bed.

"Robert, please...don't chastise yourself, it's perfectly natural, perfectly normal for that to happen with men," she said as normally as though we were discussing the weather.

"It's not that...not really," I said with an edge of excitement still lingering in my tone of voice.

"Besides, it's really all my fault, I was enjoying it. I was enjoying the "naughty" feel good of it, and I shouldn't have been."

"Me too," I admitted honestly.

"Obviously," she laughed, trying to ease the tension. "Listen, lets not make this into any big deal," but once again she laughed, glancing down at my still very hard, very firm, very obvious BIG erection. But her laugh, made me laugh in return. "Not like I haven't seen it before either," she added a second later.

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byMany Feathers© 8 comments/ 305385 views/ 25 favorites

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