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.