Your mom is

You check the living room, in case you’re lucky enough that someone is there. Fortune smiles on you today: Your mom is sitting in the conversation pit, brimming with post-date euphoria. She has a glass of wine in hand, and a cooking competition show on the TV.

Knowing how your mom is, you realize you don’t need to complicate this with a plan, so you just jump into it.

“Hey mom, how was your date?”

She turns in her seat to face you. “Oh hi sweetie! It went well. Did you come out of your gamer den just to check on me?”

“Yeah, I’m excited to see you dating again!” You earnestly reply.

Your mom leans over the coffee table to put down her wine, and to grab the remote and quiet the latest ‘deconstructed’ entree. She winces on the way back up. “Ugh, my back is killing me.”

There’s your excuse. You seize the opportunity to get some touch time. “I could give you a massage?”

Mom looks at you again. “Oh would you? Such a sweetheart. You’re sure I wouldn’t be imposing?”

“Not at all! I’m not doing anything right now, and it would be wonderful to catch up with you.”

Your mom lies down on her stomach across one of the conversation pit’s long couches, and slips off her tank top to make things easier for you.

Wow. You can see part of her boobs getting squished out to the side of her chest. Now’s not the time to get distracted by anxiety or fantasizing though. You’re here on a mission that will hopefully let you see a lot more than a little sideboob. You center yourself with a deep breath and get to work.

You start out with a basic kneading of your mom’s neck and shoulders to play it safe. “So, tell me about your date! Who’s the lucky lady?”

“Oh, you know, just a client I gave a tramp stamp to. She was kinda butch.” Your mom says with a smile apparent in her tone. “I know it’s not the most proper thing to do, but it’s not like I’m a therapist or anything.”

“So, what kind of date was it? Where’d you go? What did you do?” You ask, padding for time.

“She took me to a backyard show. It’s not exactly my first choice, but it was fun. There was even someone selling molly!”

You’ve been cautiously working your way down her spine, looking for knots while also enjoying yourself more. “That sounds really cool. Did you buy some?”

“I did! I didn’t take much since I knew I had to drive home, but I microdosed.”

This isn’t the first time you’ve given your mom a massage, so you know how to give her some real pain relief. You dig in hard with your knuckles to loosen up the knots gained from her many hours spent hunched over at work.

Your mom continues over your focused silence. “It felt like I was sitting inside a heartbeat. And then something clicked inside and I had to get up and dance. Me and my date wound up dancing together at the edge of the pit.”

You’re not sure if your mom’s breathing is getting heavier because of her own story, or the more intense massage you’re giving her, but the possibility of juicy details is drawing you into her story. “Was she a good dance partner?”

“Oh yes, she was amazing! For a lot of it we were doing these big swinging movements together, but then she spun me around and started grinding on me. I could feel her really getting into it and- I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be telling you this.”

You disagree, but to be honest, the massage work you need to do is almost done anyway, so it might be worth wrapping up.

“So honey, are you going to tell me about your school day now?”

Damn it. Well, at least you might be able to work the last bit of this massage to your advantage if you’re going to be stuck talking about your day. You give her the cliff notes of what you learned in your linear algebra class. You’re still not sure what matrix multiplication actually means, but you’re at least getting the hang of the process of doing it.

As you’re telling her this, you run your hands up and down the full length of her back, just having fun now that her knots are dealt with. You rub circles out from her spine, testing how far toward her ribcage you can get. Giving in to the heat of the moment, you drift out to ‘accidentally’ graze the side of her breast. She doesn’t react at first, so you see if you can get away with fully pressing your kneading fingers into her soft tissue.

You know you’ve gone too far when she pushes off the couch to readjust, holding her breasts between her inner elbows. She probably doesn’t suspect anything, but you figure there’s not much more fun to be had. You wrap up your story without mentioning anything involving the KDK for obvious reasons. “So that was my day!” You give her a little double-pat to let her know the massage is done.

Your mom puts her shirt back on with a spring in her step. “I really need to head to bed, I’ve got an early start tomorrow. Thanks for spending time with me!” She gets up and walks away, but stops at the top of the pit’s staircase and turns back. “I didn’t… do anything wrong, did I?” She asks, confusing you.

“Of course not, you’re the best mom in the world!” You say, smiling to show you’re sincere.

She looks visibly relieved when you say that. “Okay, good… good. Well, goodnight!”

Oh shit, it IS pretty late. You better get to bed too if you want to maintain a ‘reasonable sleeping schedule’, a requirement you avidly despise having to adhere to.

This encounter, plus any additional information the KDK might provide, should supply plenty of material for your sleep aid.