Massage

Mom jumped a little in surprise, but didn’t pull away. She leaned back against him as he squeezed her breasts through her bra.

“Mom, why are you letting him touch you?” I asked, frustrated that she wasn’t stopping him. This was too much.

“Oh honey, James is just helping me relax. It’s all part of the immunity ritual.” She said, sounding breathless. She didn’t even question why he was rubbing her nipples through the fabric.

“Exactly Ron, your mother needs this to build strength. Now Susan, let’s move to the couch so I can apply a special pressure technique to your lymph nodes.” He guided her toward the living room, his hands roaming her waist.

Mom followed like a lamb, her cheeks flushed. She sat down on the couch, spreading her legs slightly without realizing it. James knelt in front of her, pretending to examine her neck.

“Susan, your pulse is elevated. Stress weakens immunity. I need you to unclasp your bra so I can work on your chest properly.” He said, his voice dripping with false concern. His eyes locked on her cleavage.

“Of course, whatever helps.” She fumbled behind her back, releasing the clasp. Her bra fell away, exposing her full breasts. She didn’t cover up. “Is this better?”

I tried to look, to take a glance at Mom's exposed breast, but it was no use: James' head was in the way.

“Perfect.” James cupped her left breast, kneading it under the guise of massage. His thumb circled her nipple. “See? Lymphatic drainage requires firm touch.” Mom whimpered softly, arching into his hand.

I clenched my fists. (She’s moaning for him! How can she believe this crap?) James’ other hand slid up her thigh and into her miniskirt, stopping inches from her damp panties. Mom bit her lip, eyes glazed.

“Your skin’s overheating. This skirt traps germs.” He tugged at her waistband. “They need to come off for proper ventilation.” Mom hesitated, glancing at me. James leaned close, whispering, “For Ron’s safety.”

“Okay… just for the ritual.” She lifted her hips, letting him peel her skirt and panties down. They pooled at her ankles. She sat bare below the waist, legs parted. Sweat glistened on her inner thighs. “Don’t look, Ron!”

From where I was standing, I couldn't see anything anyways; James' head was in the way. Nonetheless, I decided that this was too much. "Mom... I'll be back. I just need something to drink." I said, trying to escape the situation.

While I was gone, from the kitchen, I heard some slapping sounds, and then... silence.