The son fucked his mom while massaging her

“Beta,” I pleaded, “Could you please bring me a tablet? My body is aching terribly.”

He brought me one, but it offered no relief. As night fell, I was still in pain. My son, sensing my discomfort, offered to massage my feet and hands with oil.

“No, no, it’s alright,” I said, “I’ll be fine.”

But he insisted. He brought the oil and began massaging my legs, his touch gentle at first. As he worked on my calves, I lifted my petticoat slightly to avoid getting oil on my clothes. His gaze lingered on my thighs, a flicker of something unfamiliar in his eyes.

He moved his hands slowly up towards my waist, then pressed the oil into my lower back, right between my petticoat and blouse. His touch was no longer innocent. I felt a shiver run down my spine as he began massaging my hips, his fingers tracing the curves of my body. I tried to pull away, but he held me firm.

“Lie on your stomach,” he whispered, his voice husky with desire.

I obeyed, my heart pounding in my chest. He continued to massage my back, his hands moving lower and lower, until they were caressing my buttocks. I felt a wave of heat wash over me as he began to touch my breasts, his fingers pressing against the fabric of my bra.