She needs to unwind first.

You excuse yourself for a minute; Amber looks at you curiously as you wander into the kitchen. You bring a bottle opener back to your seat, open one of the beers you brought Amber, and give it to her. She takes it gratefully and says, “Thanks. I shouldn't drink too much after last night, but a beer sounds really good right now.” After a good long pull at the bottle, she looks at you in some surprise and says, “This is great beer. You never shared this with Mom.”

You chuckle a little in response and say, “Your mom’s tastes never went much beyond Bud Light. As far as I'm concerned, to borrow a phrase, you could pour that stuff back into the horse it came from and the world would never miss it.” Amber looks at you a moment, then gets your joke and starts giggling. “I made a couple efforts to, ah, educate her,” you add, “but they never took, and I gave up. For you, though, nothing but the good stuff.” You grin, and she grins with you. You can see her starting to relax as she finishes the bottle. Her shoulders still look pretty tense, though, so you ask, “You want another one?”

“Yeah, I do,” Amber says. “I shouldn’t have more than that, but a second one should be fine, and that’s really good beer.” You open it and hand it to her, then open one yourself and set the rest on the table, and the two of you drink together in companionable silence. Amber’s looking a lot more relaxed now than she was earlier, a lot less tight and a lot happier. She’s enjoying just being with you.

When she finishes her second beer, you decide to finish off the tension in her back and neck. You get up, move behind her, and begin to rub her shoulders. “Mmmm,” she sighs, leaning into your hands. After a moment, she sits forward again. “Let me do something about this,” she says, and slips the straps of her tank top off her shoulders, leaving them bare. Her top shifts a little with the movement, but as you resume kneading her stiff muscles, you can’t help noticing that the straps weren’t really necessary. Amber’s large breasts are more than enough by themselves to keep her top up.

After a few minutes, you ask her if she has any lotion to make your job easier. “Over there on the shelf,” she says. “This many women in one house, with the dry winters? Yeah, we always have lotion around.” You grab the bottle, put some lotion on your hands, and rub them together to warm it up before you go back to massaging Amber's tense muscles. She holds her long auburn hair out of the way and leans her head forward, murmuring appreciatively, as you work on her neck, then brings her head back up as you begin to rub her shoulders and upper back. You've gotten pretty good at this over the years, and she moans softly as the knots in her muscles soften and eventually disappear under your probing fingers. She takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. The motion draws your attention to the spectacular view you have down her ample cleavage; your cock stirs in your pants.

When your hands begin to ache, you finish up and take your seat, shaking your fingers a little. Amber grins at you and says, “Mmmm, thank you. I feel a lot better. You’re really good with your hands." Her grin turns briefly wicked and she says, “But then, Mom always did say so.”

You decide you'd better leave that one alone.