Message therapy

She looks hesitant. "I don't know, Dom. I was really just kidding, earlier. I'm not sure that would be appropriate..." She looks torn, and my nootropic mind can tell that she does want the help beneath her warring sensibilities.

"Nonsense," I say, and motion for her to roll over. "It's like going to the doctor. Do you have any oil or lotion? Go on, roll onto your abdomen. Unless you need help moving?"

She bites her lip but finally nods. "Okay... lotion is in my bathroom, in the cabinet."

I go into her bathroom, a nice master bathroom with a walk-in shower, garden tub, and tan tilework, and open the medicine cabinet above the toilet in the water closet. I find a bottle of vanilla lotion mixed in with her other toiletries. By the time I return to her room, Mom has rolled over onto her stomach and moved into the center of her bed. "Does this work?" she asks, turning her head sideways to look at me.

"Absolutely," I answer, and sit on the bed beside her. "Are you comfortable?"

She shrugs, then winces in regret.

"Don't worry, Mom. You'll feel better soon." Before she can answer, I move closer to her and sit on my knees next to the small bare space of her back. My eyes are drawn to the supple curves of her ass, but I focus on my task. I squirt some of the lotion into my palms and lather it across my hands, lubricating them with vanilla-scented gel. "I'm going to start now, don't jump when I touch you."

I lower my hands onto her back, and as the cool touch of my lotion-covered fingers comes into contact with her back, Mom jumps anyways. Then winces. "Sorry," she murmurs. I don't answer; instead, I gently caress the skin around the stressed muscle and hum a soft tune. Almost immediately, Mom sags into her bed. Due to the height of her yoga pants and the strap of her sports bra, I only have a few inches of space to work. My fingers massage the muscle, my mind leveraging every detail I learned this morning to help her recover. I feel the strained muscle relaxing beneath my touch, and I see Mom visibly relax in response.

"Ah, that feels so much better," she murmurs, her voice low and relaxed.

I apply more lotion to my hands and transfer it to her back, continuing my massage. A few minutes later, I feel the muscle fully relax. It isn't permanent, but it should help her recover much more quickly. Without stopping, I ask, "I feel the muscle has relaxed now. I'm going to continue with the rest of your back, now."

This time, she doesn't fight me. A faint nod is her only response. Her breathing is deep, showing me how much my touch is relaxing her. I broaden my touch to cover the bare skin available to me, and Mom melts beneath me. More lotion, then I move to her shoulders. I feel the tension melting away with each movement of my hands. I knead into her skin, relaxing the fiber beneath until she is like putty in my fingers.

"I'm always here for you, Mom. Whatever you need," I murmur, my voice low to not disturb her. "I'm going to roll down your pants to give me better access to your back. Just sit still."

She nods in a blissful response, and I gently roll the top of her yoga pants down until I am just above the flesh of her ass. I think for a split second, a plan already formed, and roll it once more, revealing half an inch of her butt to me. She doesn't say anything, either unaware or too relaxed to care, and I continue with my message. My hands slide along her back, kneading and massaging every space of her skin. Mom's breathing is deep and heavy, and I wonder for a moment if she is asleep, but my mind tells me she isn't. I slowly work my way down her sides, then inwards, my fingers and palms drawing shapes and designs into her skin with their touch. I draw closers to the bottom of her back, repeatedly circling around the small of her back, and then along the crest of her ass. I expect her to move or respond, but she doesn't. I push it further and knead the soft flesh at the top of her ass with my fingertips. The feeling of her rear beneath my fingers is exhilarating, and I can't help but slow my massage and enjoy the sensation. My semi-hard erection throbs to life with desire. Thoughts of more flitter through my head, but I beat them down. Now isn't the time.

As my hands slide along her sides and back across her back, I brush across the material of her sports bra. There isn't much I can do to reduce it, and I know Mom won't take it off right now, so I leave it in place. Instead, I decide to adjust my position and focus on her lower back again.

I straddle her thighs and lean over her back to continue the massage, but I quickly realize that the position places my erection directly against the soft mounds of her ass. Mom doesn't say anything about my position change, and I continue my message while trying to avoid molesting her with my dick. My hands work magic along her skin, drawing faint sighs from the woman beneath me as I work my way up and down her back. I feel something lurking beneath the surface of her skin, and I stop.

I slide off of her and lay down next to her on the bed. Mom looks at me with a sleepy smile, and I brush a strand of blonde hair behind her ear so I can look her in the eyes. "I told you I would take care of you."

She gives me a silent nod and closes her eyes, and I feel her drift away to sleep after another minute. As much as I want to stay with her, I know I can't waste the effects of the nootropic any more than I already have (not that I'd really call it waste). I slide out of the bed in silence and adjust Mom into a more comfortable position, plant a kiss on her forehead, then return to my room across the hall.

I'm tempted to deal with my erection, but I fight away the desire. Not now, not when I have so many other things to do. Instead, I spend a few hours working on Noox, finally returning to my primary goal: making money.