Liking It With Mom I


Mom was sitting at the kitchen table, and I was standing behind her, rubbing her neck.
"Mmm. . . that feels nice," she murmured.
She had been doing the bills and the muscles in her neck were tense from sitting there concentrating on doing that. I had just stepped into the kitchen when she had paused to crane her neck around, commenting on that, so I had offered to give her an impromptu neck rub. I worked my fingers beneath her fall of short, dark auburn hair that just reached above her shoulders, sliding my fingers down a little ways.
"Your collar is too tight," I mention, indicating that I can not rub her neck any farther down.
Mom unbuttons the top button on the denim shirt she is wearing, allowing my fingers to slide down a little ways.
"Better?" she says.
"Uh-huh. "
My fingers can now just reach the top of her back, and her shirt is loose enough for me to just reach her shoulders a little.
She mummers again. "Mmm. .

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  . that is so nice. "
I smile, glad that she's enjoying it.
"If your shirt was a little looser. . . I could rub your shoulders," I tell her.
Without making a fuss, she undoes two more buttons on her shirt, cautiously tugging the shirt down to partially bare her shoulders and I begin to rub them. I can feel her becoming a little tense again.
"I just wouldn't want anyone to see," she says mindfully.
"No one can see," I assure her, careless unconcerned about that myself.
Mom remains mindful of the situation, however. "Still. . .

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  " she insist. "I'm sitting here in the kitchen with my shirt unbuttoned. " She adds, "Maybe it would be better if we did this somewhere else. Maybe my room. It would be more private. "
"It's okay with me," I reply.
Mom grabsthe loose front of her shirt and gets up to lead the way and I follow. She's dressed casual, denim shirt and jeans, and is barefoot. She pads through the living room and heads upstairs to her room with me trailing behind. Her bedroom is sunny and bright.
"That's better," she announces, looking far more comfortable.
"Are you going to lay on the bed?" I ask her.
"That would probably make it easier," she says.
She sits down on the side of the bed and sort of demurely releases the partially open front of her shirt, as she stretches out face down. I sit on the bed next to her and reach out to start to rub her neck again.

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   Satisfied with the issue of privacy, she purrs. I run both hands down the length of her back and work upwards, getting my fingers under the loose collar of the shirt, pulling it as loose as I can, although it is still somewhat awkward. Feeling the restriction she says, "Here. . . "
Raising slightly, but with out getting up, she manages to undue to rest of the buttons and slides the shirt off, laying back down, presenting me with her now bare back. I start to rub my fingers along her spine, going all the way back up to her shoulders, kneading the muscles there.
I laugh. "For a moment I thought that you were going to take all of your clothes off," I tease.
She turns her head and gives my a smirk.
"Well, I wasn't sure," I tell her innocently. I shrug and add, "I mean. . . no one can see.

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"Why? Were you planning on taking all of your clothes off, too?" she retorts, making me blush slightly.
"I'm not the one getting the massage," I point out.
"Well, I don't want to be the only one who's naked," she says.
I grin self-consciously. "You mean, it would be different if we both were?"
"It might be more appropriate," she tells me in consideration.
"It could be sort of embarrassing," I point out.
"Well, I know that you're a boy," she says, being quite matter of fact about that. "I think that I have seen all of that before. "
"Yeah. I guess," I concede.
"I wouldn't be embarrassed seeing that," she assured, presenting herself as being accepting of male nudity, including mine.