"Cliff, you said you would," Mom complained.

"It has to be brushed out tonight o

r it won't be right for tomorrow." Mom shook her heavy mane of hair, the red hig
hlights glinting against the background of her rich brown locks."I know, Emily,"
Dad acknowledged, "but I have to get this done for tomorrow morning." Dad waved
the papers in his hand at Mom, finishing with a sweeping gesture toward the sta
ck occupying the coffee table in front of him. "Bill had to go to LA and this go
t dumped on me. I can't help it.""That's just great. You know what my hair is li
ke. I'll look like a flathead, and it's the biggest fundraiser of the year. Not
that you care."Mom turned on her heel and walked quickly away. Though she didn't
stomp, it was clear from her deliberate tread that she wasn't happy. Exasperate
d and already stressed, Dad muttered something under his breath and settled back
into his papers. I left for the kitchen, ostensibly to make myself some hot cho
colate but just as much to escape. I made a couple of extra mugs, one for each o
f my parents and carried a tray into the living room, offering one to my Dad."Oh
, thanks Mike. Did you make one for your Mom?"I nodded at the two mugs left on t
he tray."Good boy. Look, can you do me a favor and brush her hair for her. You k
now how she is about her hair.""Sure Dad.""Great. Thanks son."I walked carefully
across the room and up the stairs, trying not to spill the hot chocolate. I kne
w about Mom and her hair, that's for sure. Because of the red highlights, Mom's
long, thick and full-bodied head of hair was especially beautiful in the sunligh
t but if it wasn't brushed it lost its shine and hung flat. This had a dramatic
effect on the way Mom felt about herself, especially because her hair compensate
d for a lack of prominent assets in the chest area. She did have very nice legs,
at least my dad was always saying so, but she thought they were too thin and wa
s convinced his compliments simply confirmed that he thought her breasts were to
o small. So Dad had learned not to say anything. Thankfully, I wasn't expected t
o say.Mom's door was open and she was sitting in front of the mirrored dresser b
rushing her hair. As I approached, I stepped around her discarded robe which loo
ked like it had been tossed toward the bed but fell short and sprawled on the fl
oor. Mom was dressed in a pale blue nightdress I had seen before, though I could
only see the bit covering her hips and the lower six inches of her back; the re
st was covered by her hair.Mom's eyes looked up when I entered and her expressio
n softened."Oh Michael, you didn't need to do that." Mom always called me Michae
l and Dad always called me Mike."No problem, not for my favorite lady," I sucked
up, hoping to drain Mom's anger though I knew she would already be feeling sorr
y about getting mad at Dad."That's so sweet," Mom said as I put her mug down on
the dresser in front of her. "Will you stay for a few minutes with me?""Sure." I
took my mug over to the bed and sat down, tossing the tray behind me.
I sipped hot chocolate and watched Mom brush her hair after taking a small drink
from her mug. "Is Dad mad at me?" she asked, pulling the brush slowly through h
er hair."You know he's not," I answered, causing a slight smile that conveyed bo
th relief and acknowledgement that she knew this to be true. With each stroke of
the brush, her breasts stretched up to strain against the front of her nightdre
ss, starkly outlining their form for a brief moment before her descending arm re
laxed the material sufficiently to camouflage her feminine physique. As I drank
my hot chocolate, my eyes were drawn again and again to this exposition but I th
ought nothing more of it than to note that there was more there to meet the eye
than Mom thought. It was strange to notice this feature of my mother with such p
latonic regard, for I wasn't feeling anything sexual about it. I just noted, wit
h some surprise, that from this vantage point, Mom's breasts were more substanti
al than I had thought.Mom took her second drink and looked over to smile at me b
ut she didn't say anything. Feeling suddenly self conscious, I drained my mug in
one gulp and stood to leave. As I walked behind Mom, she thanked me again for b
eing so thoughtful. Something made me stop. I leaned past Mom, set my empty mug
beside hers, and stopped her hand in mid-stroke, relieving her of the brush."I'l
l do it for you Mom," I quietly offered my services."You don't have to do that,
Michael.""I want to. Let me do it for you Mom."I was rewarded with a big smile.
"Ok. That's so sweet of you." Mom adjusted her position on the seat, with a plea
sed wiggle as I began pulling the brush slowly and gently through her reddy brow

n hair.I brushed Mom's hair for quite a while and after she took the last drink
from her mug, she leaned her head back, looked up at my face, and asked me to do
the front, meaning the part that draped down over her ears. She closed her eyes
, leaving her face turned up toward me, and leaned back against me. That was my
undoing.As I looked down, carefully brushing the hair beside Mom's face, I reali
zed that I had an unobstructed view of Mom's chest, barely covered by the thin n
ightgown. It was readily apparent that Mom was not wearing a bra and this time,
I definitely noticed that her small but pert breasts were very sexy. I quickly j
erked my eyes away but they returned when I realized that with Mom's eyes closed
, I was free to look. I could see the dark red spots encasing her nipples and a
thrill rippled through me when I noticed her nipples poking into the silky mater
ial of her nightgown. I focused first on one nipple and then the other. As my ga
ze traveled between them, I realized the sides of her breasts were bare because
the nightgown delved down in a big 'V' to the top of her tummy. This wonderful v
ista generated a twinge in my groin and I became suddenly cognizant of a boner g
rowing in my jeans which were pressed against the spongy flesh of my mother's ba
ck. I couldn't pull away because Mom was leaning too far back and she would have
lost her balance. I had to act like nothing was happening. I willed my cock to
behave itself, admonishing myself for getting hard while looking at my own mothe
r. When that didn't work, I started thinking of horrible things, like a hammer s
mashing my balls on an anvil but even that didn't work. Mom sighed and purred, "
That feels wonderful."
She moved her head slightly from side to side, just enough to press her back har
der 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 dow
n on the dresser, my errant appendage pressing even harder into Mom's back. I wo
rked my fingers over Mom's head, gently massaging her scalp and then down to era
se the stress lines from on her forehead, letting my fingers stretch down her ch
eeks and along her jaw line before returning to her head, the way I'd seen my fa
ther 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 sh
e didn't realize what was happening to me. Maybe she couldn't feel it through th
ick 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 ti
ghtly across her upthrust nipples which seemed longer than they were moments bef
ore. They may be small, but they were fucking nice!Perhaps because of their subc
onscious 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 throa
t, 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 lik
e 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 massagi
ng her windpipe and the underside of her chin. Mom purred a constant, throaty ap
preciation. I was sure that her nipples were definitely longer and her breasts s
eemed firmer all around, rising more abruptly from her chest. I don't know how l
ong I massaged her like that but it dawned on me that I wasn't massaging her sca
lp so much as stroking her throat and face, and just after that realization I wa
s startled by the sound of my father's footsteps coming up the stairs."Your fath
er's coming," Mom whispered.I pulled my hands away from her neck and face, her w
hispered warning suddenly making me see my touch as a caress. My hands returned
to Mom's scalp and her eyes opened just as Dad entered the bedroom. Why had she
whispered? "Cliff, you can't believe the wonderful scalp massage your son just g
ave me.""Oh?" my father asked, shuffling toward the bathroom, clearly not intere
sted. "Yes. You could be replaced, not that you'd care," Mom jibed."Done," Dad s
hot back. "You've got a job, Mike. It's full time if you didn't already know."Th
e door closed and a few seconds later the tinkle of Dad's pee could be heard eve
n through the closed bathroom door. I gently prodded Mom to an upright position
and pulled away."No, don't go," Mom protested.