For both of us.
The pandemic has had a strange effect on all of us. For me, just having to come home from college last spring changed life as I knew it. And now, all these months later, it's hard to remember what it was like before the lockdowns and the work-from-home restrictions.
For me, it's just a lot of online reading and writing. For my mom, it has basically ended her world.
My mother is a musician, a 40-year-old second violin in the Seattle Symphony, a beautiful orchestra that is more competitive than you can imagine. Musicians wait a lifetime for an opportunity to play in one of the top orchestras in America, and some would tell you it's harder to stay there than it is to get in.
The stress is real.
So when I came home in the first uncertain days of the pandemic, my mom had no idea that her career would be put on hold.
She's an incredibly strong woman. A tall, striking brunette with dark features, a Mediterranean look from European heritage. She and my dad divorced when I was young. I'm an only child. My name is Sean. My mother's name is Elizabeth, but everyone calls her Liz or Lizzie, depending on how long they've known her.
In recent months, we really haven't heard from many people. Mom became a little depressed as the reality set in that her beloved orchestra was on hold, and attempts at Zoom practices had fallen through. So she sometimes opened the window of her upstairs studio and played for the neighbors, often with tears in her eyes.
By early June, she was having trouble sleeping, feel tired and anxious all day, tense and moody before her daily glass of wine.
That has since turned into a bottle.
One afternoon as I was reading and she was watching a yoga video, she called me over.
"Look at this, Sean," she said.
A man was rubbing the shoulders of one of the yoga instructors, who had her eyes closed and was obviously enjoying the massage.
"Maybe that's what I need," my mom said, mesmerized by the scene, shrugging her shoulders and trying to pop her neck.
Musicians often work out to keep their bodies limber, since they normally work the same muscles over and over. Bad backs and sore joints are a common malady. My mom always complained of lower back pain that she said shot down her bottom to the back of her legs.
She took a lot of walks.
But this had her attention. She tried to emulate the actions of the masseur to no avail.
"Sean, would you be a dear?"
I was a little shocked. It seemed a little strange. Sure, I was in love with my mom and had had taboo thoughts about her, but I would've never acted on them. I thought she was the most perfect mother and the classiest lady in Seattle.
So this was a huge request she seemed to be making. Not that it was anything more than a shoulder rub, but it was my mom.
She sense my trepidation and laughed.
"C'mon college boy," she said. "It's just a shoulder rub. Let's see if you know what you're doing."
I watched the video and took a deep breath. I looked at the screen and then down at my mother, who was in a lotus position, her hands upturned and resting on her knees. Her long brown hair was tied in a pony tail that hung over her breasts, covering her cleavage in the tight work-out top she was wearing. For the first time, I noticed she wasn't wearing a bra. In fact, as I looked down over her perfect body, I could see the outline of her pussy lips through the tight lycra yoga pants.
I know she could hear my breathing, which was deep and nervous as I knelt behind her and exhaled deeply.
"Sean," she said quietly. "If this is too much for you, I understand."
"No, Mom," I said. "I think this is a great idea. I just want to do it right. I really think this is something you need, probably by a professional though."
We both laughed, and then she took a deep breath.
"I'm ready if you are," she said.
And then I touched her. The reaction from both of us was immediate. She seemed to melt a little, and I sensed an electrical charge. Her neck was soft but her muscles were taut. I was a little too careful at first, but then she adjusted her neck, sat up straighter and slipped the top of her shirt over her shoulders.
The effect was overwhelming, slightly exposing her cleavage under her hair and giving me access to her upper back, her neck and shoulders and giving me a full view of her upper chest. My cock stirred as I exhaled again and started massaging her the way the man on the video was.
I watched as he kneaded her upper back and neck, how he pushed his thumbs deep into the tissues, eliciting moans and jolts of pain and joy. My mom just seemed to coo.
"That feels so good, Sean," she said over and over.
I tried to concentrate on the video, but it seemed a little more sexual than I was comfortable with. Like my mom, the woman on the screen was thin and delicate. Her eyes were closed, but she was clearly in a state of sexual excitement more than physical rehabilitation. And her nipples looked like erasers under her tight top.
I turned away more than once, not sure if I should be doing the same thing. Her masseur was getting very close to her half-exposed breasts, and I was trying very hard not to move my hands too far down my mom's chest.
I was getting more comfortable with touching my mom but very uncomfortable with what I was seeing on the video. And sure enough, then it happened.
The man's hands slid all the way under her breasts, cupping them and massaging them in a circular motion, pinching her nipples as she swooned then sliding both hands under the shirt and massaging her tits with sensual pleasure for both.
My mom giggled, then suddenly leaned forward, taking the clicker and turning off the video. She turned toward me smiling, leaned in and kissed me on the forehead.
"Thank-you, Sean," she whispered, her voice more feminine and suggestive than I'd ever heard. "That was incredible."
As she stood, her breasts were inches from my face. Her nipples were just like the woman's on the video, hard and erect. My mom was totally turned on.
"We'll do it again," she said, bouncing away barefoot and cheery. I heard the refrigerator open and heard glasses clinking. She came back in with two glasses of white wine.
"Let's toast," she said, handing me a glass. "To my masseur."
She smiled and winked.
"That video gets a little steamy," she said. "I guess I forgot."
"You've seen it before?" I asked.
"Baby, your mother's been locked up for six months, and I wasn't exactly dating before the pandemic," she said, staring directly into my eyes. "I have lots of videos. That one is at least informative. I've been watching it for some time now, waiting for the right time. I think this is something I really need."
She cocked her head slightly and gave me a wry grin.
"We both might need it," she said.
We finished the glass of wine and had another and then another. And then as the evening sun set outside, and the house turned quiet, she suddenly got off the couch and sat in the floor again, in front of the television. She assumed the lotus position and took a deep breath.
"OK, son," she said. "Show me what we've learned."
She clicked the video on again. The man's hands were sliding the woman's top off and kissing her neck. Her nipples were at attention as he pinched them and circled her areola with his hands. It was so intense. My cock was immediately hard, tenting my basketball shorts as I stood and walked behind my mother, staring at the video as I knelt behind her.
She'd pulled her top down again, farther this time. Her pony tail was on her back, and he nipples were hard. The top of her areola was exposed. As soon as I put my hands on her shoulders, she leaned all the way back against me, taking my hands and pulling them down to her cleavage, using my hands to massage her softly.
She moaned quietly then dropped her hands, taking the clicker with one and reversing it back to the beginning. Then she adjusted her bottom, pushing back against me, the small of her back pressing against her son's hard cock, seven and a half inches running up her spine with my hands covering the top of her soft tits.
"Massage me," she whispered, shimmying a little against my cock and letting me feel how her 36c tits moved with the motion. "Massage your mother, baby."
The video played in silence. There was no noise other than our breathing and my mom's constant low moan. She was letting her body relax for the first time in months, her tension slipping away.
I was feeling her off more than massaging her, and her body responded. As the video flickered, the only light in an otherwise dark room now, my mom leaned all the way back against me, unfolded her legs and cocked her head to one side.
"Show me what you've learned," she purred, reaching up and taking my hands, sliding them over her covered tits as I lowered my face and kissed her neck. She seemed to soften against me, dissolving as I rubbed her tits, doing what I'd seen on the video.
She let my hands explore her, dropping her hands, one sliding over the outline of her pussy lips and the other turning off the clicker. We were in total darkness, her breath sensuous and sexual now.
"Oh Sean, she whisper. "I need this so much."
I was in shock but totally hypnotized by her moans and sighs. I could feel her hips bucking, her hands massaging her own pussy as my cock throbbed and grinded against her lower back.
She masturbated furiously through the tights, moaning louder as I kissed her neck and shoulders, my tongue sliding from her ears to the back of her neck, my hands cupping her sensitive tits.
She slowly turned toward me, and I felt her arms on the bottom of my t-shirt, which she slowly lifted off of me in the darkness. I sensed her taking her own top off before feeling the weight of her pushing me back onto the floor.
Our mouths were suddenly engaged, our tongues exploring, my mother's tits pressing against my chest and her pussy grinding against my engorged cock. Slowly at first and then aggressively, she began to hump me, rising off of me like a cowgirl, fucking me through our pants, talking silently to herself, lost in a taboo twosome, grinding me, whispering to herself.
"Fuck me," she said, almost too quietly to hear. "God yes, make me cum."
She came in a torrent, her hands on my shoulders, leaning into me, pushing me down as her hips gyrated wildly, wetting my shorts as she came in waves, almost like pee. It was an amazing orgasm, nothing like I've ever heard or experienced. I was soaked, and the sound of her wet pussy inside those pants was the most erotic sound I've known.
She eventually collapsed onto me, kissing me all over my face, saying over and over "thank-you, thank-you baby." She melted into me, holding my head with both her hands and licking my face to my neck, where she nestled her head and exhaled loudly.
I thought she was asleep, but when I adjusted my lower body, pressing my hard cock against her soaking wet cunt, she moaned and began to slowly press against me.
For the first time, I slid my hands down her side and began to massage her ass, my hands slipping inside the stretchy bottoms until they were on her bare ass. We began to dry hump again, only now she was drenched.
The motion was slow and easy, my hands exploring her wet ass as she kissed me and licked me, moaning quietly as our hips slowed and she seemed to crawl inside me. We were one, covered in sweat and her cum, our breathing slowing in a rhythmic cadence until we both fell asleep.
We would awaken hours later, still embraced, still in the floor, the pungent aroma of sweat and sex hanging in the air.
"Oh Seanny," she said, her lips brushing against mine. "What have we done?"
I kissed her, and my tongue slid against hers. I slid my hands down her bare back and onto her bare ass.
The sky was still dark outside, but I could see her dark eyes glistening, her tears falling on my face.
"We learned how to give you a massage," I whispered.
(To be continued)