Son Joins Mom in Massage

There is no sex in this story. Only titillating frisson.

***

My name is Dave. I was 18 then. Mom was 48. Dad, 50. My parents were corporate "road warriors", or more like glorified corporate serfs, on business travel 30% of the time. Although mom was no longer lissom as age had crept up stealthily on her over the years, she still looked appealing in a matured fulsome way. She was in good shape. The fruits of her sweaty labor. The many hours grinding out at hotel gyms and spas after she was done with the pesky business of the day in her corporate travel.

Mom's 48th birthday was coming up. It was planned that mom, dad and I would be together on that day. Mom had business travel running up to her birthday. Dad too, but at another location. The plan was that I would join mom on her business trip. While she was working, I would chill at the hotel, and take in some sights. Little did I know then that I would be taking in more sights than I had originally planned. Dad would fly in to join us on the morning of mom's birthday. Mom had booked one hotel room for the three nights when I was with her, and then, two rooms when dad joined us. This way, she would make best use of her business travel room nights, paying for the additional room only when required. The hotel got wind of mom's birthday from her check-in registration details. They threw in complimentary vouchers for F&B, champagne, birthday cake, an in-room massage, and other freebies, to be consumed over our hotel stay. Nice! Mom, the ruthlessly efficient corporate mean machine duly scheduled and booked all the reservations.

Our room was decent sized with two single beds. There was a balcony. The plan was that when dad joined us, mom would move to join dad in the other room which would have a king-sized bed.

Mom had no work appointments on the morning of our second day. I was watching TV with mom in our room. The door bell chimed. Mom said: "Oops, sorry! I forgot to tell you, I had booked the in-room massage service. Would you mind going out for a walk for an hour?"

I said: "No worries! Enjoy!"

Mom opened the door. She was surprised to see a young man and woman, both athletic looking, in their early twenties, bearing portable massage tables, and other implements.

The staff explained to mom that it was an in-room couples massage service since her check-in details included a spouse. Mom requested for the massage to be split into two single massage sessions over different days. The masseur, whose name was Jack, regretted that it was administratively not possible because of the packaging of this complimentary service. Also, the massage service staff were fully scheduled for all the time slots, over this peak holiday season.

Mom told me not to leave the room just yet till she sorted this out. Ever the corporate wheeler and dealer, and her instinct to optimize things, she continued to discuss with Jack, and the masseuse, Jill, to explore alternatives.

Finally, wearing a conflicted look on her face, mom took me aside. She said: "Dave, I hate to forego half of this complimentary service. It's worth quite a bit of money if this wasn't complimentary. Would you like to join me in the massage? It would be a new chill experience for you?"

I said: "I have never had a massage. What's involved? Errr... do I have to be nude? Would it be awkward... errr... for us both?" Mom replied: "I often have in-room massages in hotels and spas in my business travels. Yes, we have to undress. But, we are covered by robes and towels. It's all clinical and process-like. The staff is at your service. If you feel that what they are doing is not agreeable with you, just let them know whatever, and they'll be happy to oblige. You will enjoy the therapeutic soothing experience. You're 18 this year, going into adulthood. Consider this a rite of passage of sorts." I said: "Cool! I guess I can survive this ordeal." She teased: "Now, no peeking at your old mom!" I felt a curious wave of anxiety and tingle in equal stabs.

Mom nodded to Jack and Jill to proceed with the service. She told them that this was my first massage experience, to kind of prime them." They duly setup the two massage tables in the limited free space between the beds and the balcony. The two tables were parallel to each other, but slightly staggered, with one table ahead of the other by two feet, to allow for movement swing space for Jack and Jill to operate. The leading table was nearer the balcony. The trailing table was nearer the beds. Jack fiddled with his portable digital audio player. Soothing transcendental music wafted through the room. Lights dimmed. The room had a dreamlike aura.

Mom told me to change into the hotel bathrobe in the washroom.

I came out of the washroom. Mom beetled off into the washroom. I was directed to my massage table, the one that was positioned behind, closer to the beds. I was told to lose my bathrobe, lie face down, and relax. Sheepishly, I quickly disrobed, and laid down on the table, face to my side. I wanted to do this before mom emerged from the washroom to avoid the awkwardness of going starkers in front of mom. I felt the soft graze of a towel draped over my ass. I felt vulnerable, although I couldn't precisely identify vulnerable to what. I could see the other massage table.

I heard the washroom door open. Mom padded over to her massage table. I willed my eyes to close, lest mom should see me. But, for some reason, my eyes were on wakeful autopilot mode. Mom was at the side of her massage table that was closer to my table. She was a mere three feet away. I could see mom's robed back. She couldn't see me. That emboldened me.

Mom disrobed. Her back was an expanse of lushness, bounded by clean artful body lines. Legs flared to hips. Her butt was softly contoured, teasing, just shy of provocation. The alluring symmetry of pear shape was nailed down by two sacral dimples.

Mom mounted the table in an arcing flurry blur of motion.

A towel was modestly draped over her ass. I could see the side of mom's breast pressed against the table top.

Mom faced away from me. I thanked the heavens for this stroke of good fortune. This heavenly boon was shortlived. Suddenly, mom flitted her head to face me. I was the proverbial deer in the headlights. Caught out, right off the bat! I was mortified. Curiously, mom flashed me a knowing wink, and then closed her eyes zoning into distant bliss. She was serene as canned peach. I closed mine too. But, my mental state was anything but serene.

The massage service began. Let the healin' begin! I felt a soothing sensation of warm oil pour dribbling over my back. And then firm but small hands kneading my back. This was odd. I recalled strapping hunky Jack had big hands. I looked up. It was Jill. And that was the second surprise of the morning. Jill gave me a conspiratorial sweet smile that said, gotcha! My first instinct was that I hope I could control my bodily exuberance. I had an attractive young woman working on me. And just a mere three feet away, a mature luscious MILF, naked as the day she gave birth to naked me. I remembered mom's profound words of wisdom, "a rite of passage of sorts". I relaxed somewhat. I should untether, focus on other things beyond myself.

I thought about masseur Jack working on mom. My thoughts ranged to... hmmm... mom's in-room massages in her business travel when she was alone. If this massage service was any illumination on the massage culture, I presumed it would be masseurs, and not masseuses, who serviced mom. I came back to mom's "rite of passage" insight, and her coquettish wink. In that quiver tingle of epiphany, I decided to just go with the flow. I opened my eyes.

I spied mom's eyes were closed. She was native. Mom was a sight to behold.

Jack was working on mom's thighs and buttocks. I could tell he was applying a lot of pressure.

I could discern that he was dipping his hands between her thighs, close to, but not at, her most feminine trove.

Mom's eyes flew open momentarily. Our eyes locked. For a moment I thought she might jump off the table. Instead, she twinkled coyly, and then, closed her eyes. I watched as she arched her ass ever so slightly to meet Jack's hands. Mom's breath was getting faster. She was emitting contented mewing noises.

l was in heightened flourish. I couldn't take my eyes off the other table. Jill brought me back to earth when she whispered in my ear, "Enjoying yourself watching your mom enjoying herself?" I responded with some kind of gasped yes. She smiled knowingly. She then asked me to turn over. I did so reluctantly. Jill just looked at me, rubbed some more oil in her hands and started massaging me with sensual precision and persuasive intent. I turned my head sideways. Like me, mom had turned over too. Jack was doing her shoulders, then drifting down methodically to her top.

Mom's eyes flickered open. Again, we locked eyes in mute unity. Mom just smiled and watched Jill work me.

By this time, Jack had moved down south. Mom was scrupulously shaven.

The triangulation of feelings of my massage, watching my mom getting worked all over, and the uneasy anticipation of what else might happen, had me in a state of unimaginable arousal. I released. Instinctively, once out of my pleasant stupor, I gazed at mom. She managed a glazed weak bonding smile, and then, relished her moment.

That was the only time I saw mom nude. We have never referred to, much less discussed, this experience.

And I'm conflicted as to whether I should say this. It's par for the human nature course. Whenever mom tells me that she'd be on business travel, I get a tingle.