The Massage

Once again I laughed. "Yeah, but that doesn't count, you're all grown up."

"So were you," she near whispered. "Just after you'd graduated from high school, and went to that graduation party. You stumbled into the house at 3:00 a.m. the next morning, remember?"

I did. But I didn't remember seeing my mother. But I did remember what happened next, and wondered.

"What did you see?" I asked pointedly.

"Everything," she admitted.

"Everything?"

"Yeah."

I had gone to the graduation party with my then girl friend Cheryl. We'd been seeing one another on and off for most of high school. We'd kept breaking up however, and I kept going back to her. All it would take is for her to 'offer' a little more than she'd been willing to give the last time we were together, then off we'd go again...for a time. So far, the most we'd done is a little heavy petting, well, mostly me doing all the heavy petting, which she seemed to enjoy. Enjoy to the point that I am fairly positive she'd had a few semi-silent orgasms along the way, though each time she'd had, she'd suddenly change from this aroused horny woman I was with, to an indignant one. Usually soon after, we'd break up once again...for a while.

I remembered how she'd been hinting at me that "this" night was going to be a very, very special night. How that something "more" might happen. And it did, but not nearly as much as I'd allowed myself to imagine it would. At some point during the party, we'd gone outside to my car, slipped into the back seat (at her suggestion) where she finally allowed me to actually finger her, and likewise, actually stroked me. I was nearing the point of climax, told her so in anticipation of staving off the inevitable if she continued, and thus go on to bigger and better things, when she told me "she wouldn't do that," not that far any way.

"What the hell do you mean?" I asked her.

"It's gross," she said. "If you want to do yourself, be my guest," she said almost indignantly. "I don't blame you if you do, after all...but I just won't do it for you," she said simply.

That was the night we broke up for the very last time. Though I was hurt, angry, and frustrated, I was still horny as hell. I had come home, but rather than go into the house, or even into my own bedroom, I had gone instead out to the back yard to sit in one of the lawn chairs. I knew that the moment I entered the house, mom would hear the creek of the backdoor, she always did. And no doubt, being as late as it was, would get up in order to check on me, and make sure I hadn't come home too drunk, or too sick or something.

What I had done...was to slip out of my jeans, and proceed to jack myself off to a much needed, much wanted orgasm.

"Where were you?" I then questioned.

Shamefacedly, she admitted, "I was outside having a smoke."

Mother never really was a smoker. About the only time she ever did was after she'd had a fight with dad, or after something had happened that got to her. I swear, she'd had the same pack of stale cigarettes hidden away in the empty coffee can for as long as I can remember. So it wasn't like I didn't know she smoked occasionally, or rarely actually. But I certainly hadn't been aware of it that night.

"And?" I pressed, still wondering how much she knew, how much she really had seen that night.

"Well, you certainly never knew I was there," she began. "I put my cigarette out the moment I saw you come out back."

She didn't need to tell me where she'd been standing. Suddenly I knew. Suddenly I remembered that feeling of maybe being watched, though I had just used that, included that in my masturbatory fantasy, a fantasy that I no longer wanted to include involving Cheryl. So I'd included my mother instead. Imagined her watching me, seeing me as I stood there caressing my prick. The fact was, she had been.

"So you..."

"Saw everything," she completed.

I'd forgotten how we'd gotten here in the first place. Or why even. It no longer mattered. For whatever reason, she was trying to sooth me, but all she'd done was remind me of a very erotic experience, an experience where I had imagined myself watching her, watching her do what I had once so long ago accidentally caught her doing.

"I guess that sort of makes us even then," I told her. Her eyes widened in surprise, then acceptance.

"So...you did see me, you do remember and know what I was doing!" She said in a combination of embarrassment, and surprise.

I laughed, trying to make light of it. "How could I not mom? I mean that thing was making more noise than your electric toothbrush, and besides being black, it was also half buried inside you when I watched you pull it out and drop it on the floor beside you. But it was already too late, I'd seen enough to know, and wonder, and think about it."

"You...you thought about it?" she questioned.

"For days! I was curious, so then I searched..."

"Searched?"

"Yeah...for your toy. And then I found it, found where you'd hidden it away, amongst other things," I stated without giving specifics. Even in the half light of my darkened bedroom I could see she was blushing furiously, and thought momentarily I had taken things a bit too far.

"The reason..."

"You don't have to explain," I told her.

"No, I want to, you need to listen to me," she began again. "Never once did I cheat on your father, but I did have needs, desires...things that were not being fulfilled. So I turned to masturbation, something I did a lot."

"Mom...really," I made attempt to interrupt once again. "You don't have to explain to me...I know."

"Which is why I'm not ashamed to tell you," she told me. "I knew you and Cheryl were having problems sexually, I knew how frustrated sexually you were...because I was. That night, when I watched you masturbate," she paused. But I heard the words before she even said them. "I masturbated while watching you. I imaged you touching me, touching me the way you did when you used to massage me, that silly little game we played, a game I knew we had no business playing, which is why I always shut things down before they went too far."

"You knew?"

Once again she laughed. "How could I not? When your whole focus turned into nothing more than repeating the same move over and over again, with each one a little more exploratory, a little closer to my exposed breasts. Admittedly, at first I thought it was amusing, your little boy curiosities, harmless really. But then I found myself looking forward to it, actually wondering, excited to see just how far you'd press it."

"Or how far you'd let me press it," I told her catching her off guard.

"Yes, admittedly," she stated. "And afterwards, when you would run off to your bedroom to sleep...to masturbate, I would head off to my room and do the same...with one of my toys."

"How'd you know I did?" I asked once again, curious. And she laughed again, shaking her head.

"Even as young as you were then, you couldn't hide from me the fact that you always had an erection, just as you had tonight...just as you still do now."

Trying to hide that fact was pointless. I still did. And I was still wearing the same pair of grey sweat shorts with the enormous round wet spot pointing that out.

"How long has it been?" she asked suddenly.

"Almost three years," I said simply. Though it had been just over a year since my divorce. For the last two years of my marriage, my wife and I hadn't had sexual relations of any kind, which was just the beginning of the end for us.

"What about you?" I asked just as curiously. And then she really did laugh.

"About the same, so I guess we were both going through the very same things at about the very same time."

"You mean you and dad?" "Quit having sex? Yes. About the time I discovered he was having an affair."

Which is what I had caught my ex-wife doing.

"So you haven't done anything with anyone else since?"

"No...you?"

"Nope...nadda."

For a brief moment we simply sat there in silence. The tension in the air was becoming unbearable. Then I felt her hand reach across my lap, grasping fully my somewhat weakening cock.

"Just say the word," she whispered.

"What word?" I screamed inside my own head. "Stop? Continue? What?"

"It's a naughty kind of feel good, I know. And if you want me to stop, just say so...and I will."

Instead, I reached for her breasts, felt them fill my hands just as my cock began more fully filling hers.

"Just this once, and never again," she told me. "This will be the end of our little game, it will be finished, here...now. Agreed?"

"Agreed," I told her.

She had me stand then, and just like that small child ages ago, I felt her pull down my shorts, only this time it wasn't to dress me, or undress me to dress me. When her soft warm mouth encircled my prick, I wanted to melt inside her mouth, right then and there. And I almost did. For the briefest of moments, I wondered how on earth my own father could have given this up for someone else. The way she sucked me, tickled me, pleasured me with her lips and tongue was beyond anything I had ever experienced before with anyone. And when I had reached that point of no return, I stopped her, reluctantly, even though I knew and saw within her eyes that she had wanted to continue.

"Not yet," I somehow managed to breathe. "Later...but right now, it's your turn."

The look on my mother's face was one I will never forget, and always remember. It was one of pure lust, pure desire, and pure wonder. Now it was my turn as she stood before me, as I slipped the tiny black thong down her legs, revealing the treasure of her femininity that was glistening with desire. I licked at her lips, savoring the taste of her nectar, sucked in the tiny bud of her clitoris, felt her shiver as she placed her hands on my head, running her fingers through my hair as she held me there, shivering, quivering expectantly. When she came, it was as though a dam had burst. A dam of pent up desire, frustration, and more. She literally exploded, the sweetness of her honey-dew spraying forth from somewhere deep inside her pussy, splashing my face as though I had stood beneath the shower. She laughed, cried, all the while crying out her joy and pleasures in wild abandon as I continued licking her, pleasuring her until the pleasure became more than she could continue to take.

"Fuck me," she said then. "Don't make love to me, I couldn't handle that under the circumstances, but fuck me...fuck me as a woman," she urged me with a desperation in her voice I had never heard before.

For the moment at least, she wasn't my mother, nor was I her son. She was a pussy that needed fucking, and I was a prick that needed to be fucked. It was that simple. Even the images and fantasies I had had of her, and perhaps she me, began to evaporate with each plunge of my prick inside her. All the frustrations, anxiety, and heartaches we'd experienced along the way began to vanish. Only the sweetness remained. The sweetness of her breasts as I kissed, sucked, and caressed them. The audible sighs of pleasure, a woman's pleasure, reached my ears as I licked, flicked, and once again devoured this woman's cunt in abstract pleasure and ecstasy. And all she asked of me was that I not climax inside of her. Not that she could become pregnant, as she couldn't, but it was a line for whatever reason she wouldn't cross, and I respected that. Nor did I mind it, as she knelt before me, once again sucking me deeply, fiercely into her mouth. When I came, it was harder and more glorious than I could ever imagine.

I feared for a short time afterwards that that would be it. That guilt, remorse and even sorrow would set in and chase her away from my room, possibly even from my life. It was a surprise then as we lay side by side there on the bed, still fondling, still cuddling, still playing abstractly with one another.

"Whenever you're ready," she said softly still stroking my cock as it slowly began hardening once again.

"But I thought..."

Mother placed a finger against my lips, shushing me just as she'd done years before.

"When the sunlight filters through the curtains, then a new day will have begun. A new tomorrow for both of us."

It did, though we stretched the night for as long as it was physically possible to do. Never again did we even discuss that night, nor make any attempt to become intimate again. The game had indeed come to an end. But we both knew, it was one we'd both very much enjoyed playing.