18-09-2020, 02:50 PM
Mom sighed and purred, "That feels wonderful."
She moved her head slightly from side to side, just enough to press her back harder against my scrotum, my softness slowly stiffening away..
"Put the brush down and massage my head like your father does."
I leaned forward to set the brush down on the dresser, my errant appendage pressing even harder into Mom's back. I worked my fingers over Mom's head, gently massaging her scalp and then down to erase the stress lines from on her forehead, letting my fingers stretch down her cheeks and along her jaw line before returning to her head, the way I'd seen my father do it many times before.
"Mmmmmmmmm," Mom sighed, slowly twisting her head and neck, making the constrained ball within my jeans grow another inch.
Maybe she didn't realize what was happening to me. Maybe she couldn't feel it through thick material of my jeans. Of course she can't, I reasoned, I was no porn star. I relaxed and my eyes strayed back to Mom's tits, now stretching the nightgown tightly across her upthrust nipples which seemed longer than they were moments before. They may be small, but they were fucking nice!
Perhaps because of their subconscious desire to touch Mom's breasts, my hands dipped lower on their next pass down Mom's cheeks, below her jaw line, to stroke and massage her neck and throat, an action that pulled her tighter against my bulging jeans. I didn't realize I was doing it until Mom spoke.
"Oh, that feels really nice," she purred. "I like that." Mom arched her neck, pushing her head back and stretching her nightgown until her tits looked like they were going to burst through.
When I returned to massage her forehead and scalp, I left one hand on Mom's throat, gently massaging her windpipe and the underside of her chin.. Mom purred a constant, throaty appreciation. I was sure that her nipples were definitely longer and her breasts seemed firmer all around, rising more abruptly from her chest. I don't know how long I massaged her like that but it dawned on me that I wasn't massaging her scalp so much as stroking her throat and face, and just after that realization I was startled by the sound of my father's footsteps coming up the stairs.
"Your father's coming," Mom whispered..
She moved her head slightly from side to side, just enough to press her back harder against my scrotum, my softness slowly stiffening away..
"Put the brush down and massage my head like your father does."
I leaned forward to set the brush down on the dresser, my errant appendage pressing even harder into Mom's back. I worked my fingers over Mom's head, gently massaging her scalp and then down to erase the stress lines from on her forehead, letting my fingers stretch down her cheeks and along her jaw line before returning to her head, the way I'd seen my father do it many times before.
"Mmmmmmmmm," Mom sighed, slowly twisting her head and neck, making the constrained ball within my jeans grow another inch.
Maybe she didn't realize what was happening to me. Maybe she couldn't feel it through thick material of my jeans. Of course she can't, I reasoned, I was no porn star. I relaxed and my eyes strayed back to Mom's tits, now stretching the nightgown tightly across her upthrust nipples which seemed longer than they were moments before. They may be small, but they were fucking nice!
Perhaps because of their subconscious desire to touch Mom's breasts, my hands dipped lower on their next pass down Mom's cheeks, below her jaw line, to stroke and massage her neck and throat, an action that pulled her tighter against my bulging jeans. I didn't realize I was doing it until Mom spoke.
"Oh, that feels really nice," she purred. "I like that." Mom arched her neck, pushing her head back and stretching her nightgown until her tits looked like they were going to burst through.
When I returned to massage her forehead and scalp, I left one hand on Mom's throat, gently massaging her windpipe and the underside of her chin.. Mom purred a constant, throaty appreciation. I was sure that her nipples were definitely longer and her breasts seemed firmer all around, rising more abruptly from her chest. I don't know how long I massaged her like that but it dawned on me that I wasn't massaging her scalp so much as stroking her throat and face, and just after that realization I was startled by the sound of my father's footsteps coming up the stairs.
"Your father's coming," Mom whispered..
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