#4

For a while, Mom happily talked about the actress and what she knew about it as if she finally found someone she shared a hobby with. 

Though, I think it’s because, it’s quite rare for us to be alone, discussing casual matters like this that she became quite, unusually, talkative. 

Of course, I didn’t want to kill her joy, and listened to her quietly, adding some of my ideas and opinions to continue the conversation- chatting about how to improve the film, and even the stunts as if we were professional actors or directors ourselves. Well, I do have a lot of things to criticize for. After all, I grew up watching films made in the 21^st century.

Though both the graphics and CGI are great, the story itself can’t be compared to the movies and films in the 21^st century, especially, compared to those from Hollywood. There are a lot of things to criticize for.

While chatting happily, passing the time together, I noticed Mom started rubbing her feet. 

I kept glancing at it from time to time, and though she didn’t say anything, I know she was quite sore, probably from her shoes. I could see faint red marks on her feet, and toes.

I thought it must have hurt, so I got an idea. 

“Mom, is your feet sore?” I asked.

“-her movie, the pugi-yes? Ah, no, Honey, I’m fine. It’s okay,” she said lightly with a smile while acting as if it was nothing. She even tried to hide it. But I already saw it.

I smiled at her. She had always spoiled me and loved me, so I thought to return the favor. Without saying anything, I sat on the floor in front of her and took over.

"Here let me do that," I said while gently taking hold of her foot.

“...Honey, I’m fine,” she was surprised when I grabbed her foot. She even looks down at me with a faint blush on her face. 

“It doesn’t hurt at all… rather, it’s dirty. I haven’t washed them yet,” though she said that, she didn’t try to pull her foot back from my hands. There was even a slight hint of expectations in her eyes as she look at me.

I smiled, “It’s fine Mom. You’ve been working hard for us… it’s the least I can do,” I said as I started putting some pressure on her foot. 

“H, honey… ooh,”

Mom’s feet were pretty and feminine and her toenails were carefully groomed and pedicured. Though there were some rough callused spots around the heels and sides of the big toes, they were wonderful. 

Her feet were so soft to touch as I had imagined. I first caressed them gently, as if I was entering an unknown territory. Suddenly, I heard her moan, and look at her. Her face was beet red. She was starting to quicken her breath as well. She look at me, and I saw the excitement in her eyes.

“I might not be good at it, so I apologize if I hurt you…” I said. 

Of course, those were just words. I’m quite good at massaging, to be honest. I’m confident in my skills, honed after my boss always ordered me to massage her feet under her desk. 

She was one of those almost abusive managers who treated everyone as if they were below her in kind. Though, she has some capital, and she had been working on the company for a long time, and with good records to back up her positions. She’s quite amazing at her job. Pretty, influential, and has a good background- only, her personality sucks. She’s a vile demon that most of our coworker hates. Even some of the higher-ups dislike her. But they can’t touch her with the records of excellence she has in the company.

But being a yes-man in the company - done only to retain my job, I was her do-it-all slave. 

I do everything and anything she asks, no matter what it was. Perhaps, she’s taken a liking to my dog-like attitude, she always calls for me, whatever is that she needed. From buying napkins for her period to picking up her brutally impish nieces from school, to massaging her fatigue-soaked feet, I do all her commands.

Still, I won’t do it if she was not that beautiful and gorgeous- she’s just my type.

But she was not that bad. Personality-wise. Yes. However, she would treat you well once you gained her trust. She was not like all the bad rumors around her. She’s too bossy yes, but not violent, not rough… well, she even treated me to nice places and foods sometimes.

“... You are very tense, Mom. You should relax, just relax.” I said.

“Ooh, so, sorry, honey, to do this to your old mother,” my gorgeous mom moaned absent-mindedly with appreciation.

“Not at all, Mom, I’m happy I get to do this to you. Though, I do hope it would lighten your burden even just a small bit,” I said faintly. With light pressure, I began working on her toes and moving to the arch.

“Oh, you are so sweet for doing this. Thank you it means a lot.” 

“No problem Mom, it’s the least I could do.”

I looked up and noticed she had laid her head back and closed her eyes. And I could tell she was liking it. I smiled. 

"I could get used to this," She said dreamily, "A nice foot rub hits the spot after a long day of running around the hospital… this could be heaven,”

“Oh, you’re jesting. Mom, I know I’m not that good at massaging. I’m just thankful, I wasn’t hurting you,”

“Oh, honey, what are you saying? This is the best! Ooooh, this feels much better. I think we should make this a regular ritual," suddenly, she suggested, half-kidding. 

“Well, if that’s what you want Mom, why not? Just call me if you ever want a massage,” I said, and her eyes regained their sparkles. A beaming smile appeared on her face, it was almost as blinding as the light bulb above them.

“You said it! No going back,” she said, smirking.

“I promised,” I said, pretending to be helpless.

She seemed to catch my teasing, and she laughed happily. 

“Now, what are you waiting for? Continue, my dear beloved masseur,” she said jokingly while wiggling her left foot on my face expectantly. 

I chuckled, “Yes, Mom, as you wish,” I responded jesterly before taking her foot with both hands and resuming what I was supposed to do. 

I continued working on Mom's feet and started moving up her calves using light but constant pressure. Mom’s skin was smooth, like a child, and her foot was just amazing. I don’t have a foot fetish, but damn, it’s hard not to think about it, especially when you’re already holding it.

I thought I heard a moan coming from her and could almost feel her begin to relax.

"Mmmmmmm! That's nice! You're such a good boy, Honey, ooh there,” she moaned-probably not intentionally suggestive, but it was - “Oh that feels good baby.” 

Mom was loving every moment of it, and so do I. 

I dutifully massaged as best as I was able, and while part of me found the task to be just a simple, innocent familial act of intimacy, there was another part that found it strangely exciting -- I had to admit I was a little turned on by the unexpected intimacy of the act between my gorgeous mother and me. 

It was hard not to. I was just trying to be good, but somehow, my mind was full of bad thoughts.

After massaging her right foot, I gestured to her left, which she had placed on top of my thighs by this point. She pulled her right foot away and didn’t hesitate to give me her left one.

Without hesitation, I had just as much fun with it as I did her right one.

But just as I was gently caressing and massaging her foot, my eyes couldn’t help but roved over her thighs noticing how her skirt had begun to move up exposing her panty-covered crotch.

I then noticed that Mom did not wear those garters or weird undergarments for holding things in, this time. All she wore were thin, almost see-through panties. 

I could even see the outline of her cunt-hairs through the filmy material. In an instant, my addled brain changed its mode, and a growing sensation began down in my crotch which made my cock start to swell. 

My excitement and Mom's nearness made me bolder and I resolved to see how far she would let me go.

Hoping she wouldn't notice, I started to work for my hands further up to her smooth, firm calves. 

I rubbed her right calf feeling the tension run out of them. Ever so slowly, I moved onward up to her knee and rubbed all the tension out of them too. 

I could see that Mom had parted her legs just a little, maybe unknowingly, to allow me more freedom with her legs. 

I bit my lower lip subconsciously. 

I was already stirred by my sister this afternoon, and now, this strong and overly tempting situation with my mom was almost making me blow over my limits. And I was already close to my lid, as my hands began to move without my consent, rubbing her thighs, and to my delight, I could see her pussy more easily once I did this.

Both my hands moved between her legs brushing both inner thighs. 

I looked up and saw Mom's lips part just slightly as this happened. Her eyes were still closed. I could feel her start to squirm as I moved closer to her pussy. 

I could have stopped right there and pulled back. I could have called out her name, and she would have woken up. But I didn’t. Instead, I began to rub the outside of her panties. And surprisingly, or not, Mom didn't open her eyes. 

I was sure she knew what I was doing by now, but she still acted as if what I was doing was perfectly natural. I decided to go even further.

I felt the lips of her pussy as I rubbed the full area of her cunt. I could hear her breathing start to quicken even harder as my rubbing started to increase speed. I slipped a finger underneath the outer edge of her panties and slowly inserted it into her moist cunt. 

Probing in and out of her pussy I started to slip another finger in and that's when Mom suddenly opened her eyes wide and tried to close her legs.

I backed off as Mom pulled down her skirt trying to hide her blushing face. 

Neither of us said a word for a while, almost as if we were catching our breaths. 

We were both breathing quite heavily, that's for sure. 

“Mom, that was…” 

I was the first to break the silence… embarrassed and kind of feeling ashamed of what just happened.

However, before I could say anything- she cut me off.

“No… I’m sorry, that was… that was nothing,” she said- assuring me or assuring herself, I didn’t know. But that caught me off, guard. 

“Thank you, I think I’m good now. I need to change… thank you, honey. I appreciate what you did,” she said with a flushed and flustered expression, she get up, and turn around, and left.

I stood in the living room, dumbfounded, watching as her back disappeared. I was ashamed, but I felt the flames in my heart ignite even more. I gulped and look at my wet fingers.

“... …”

I brought my hand to my face, drawing in a deep breath, taking in the fragrant, musky scent. 

It made the room spin as it caressed my senses. And as if guided by invisible hands, my finger passed my lips and over my tongue.

“...sweet,”

My voice softly echoed in the living room.

…