Oh cruel fate. Why did she have to be so unobtainable for me? The object of my greatest desire and yet unreachable. If circumstances were different, maybe I could have her. But as life goes, she was forever beyond my reach. A face of an angel, with lovely blonde locks. A body of ultimate enticement. Full, luscious breasts and a stomach toned to perfection.
A butt so finely sculpted, round as the moon and so divinely firm. Legs like satin and a voice like a siren. Lips so kissable and soft. She had it all, and I had desired her for years. She was my object of true affection and lust. I wanted her more than any other woman. Why was she so out of my reach? Why, oh why, did she have to be my mother?
Yes, my greatest desire was my mother, the woman who birthed me. I know it's common for many young men to desire their moms, but not often a girl like me. As a young lesbian, no woman was more attractive and desirable to me than my mom. She is my most prominent sexual fantasy.
It did not just happen, like one day I caught her naked, or undressing. No, I desired her since I first felt the stirrings of sexual desire, though that was later for me than most. That was how I knew I was gay. She knows I am. I came out to her when I was eighteen. She did not get angry. She loved me still. After I told her, crying in shame, she hugged me and told me it changed nothing. I was still her daughter. Being gay made little difference.
No one stirred my lusts like my mother. Whenever she wore anything that enhanced her already enticing figure, I grew so wet. I wanted her, all of her. I wanted to kiss those lips. I wanted to squeeze, hold, kiss and suck those delightful tits. I wanted to fondle and grope all over her sleek butt, and I wished so deeply to taste her most secret treasure.
Many a night, I fell asleep dreaming of such intimate and sensual encounters with her. It was my life goal to run my hands through her sensuous locks, to look her lovingly in the eyes, to smell her wonderful fragrances, to rub her back and make her feel like no other could. Oh mother, why must you tempt me so?
If only, if only, I could just get my hands upon you, to feel you in a way no daughter should ever feel her mother. It was when I was nearing twenty, I figured out a great way to finally, in some way, fulfill my fantasy.
At that time, I was studying to become a masseuse. It was in therapeutic massage, mainly for physical therapy. That was when I got an idea. Mom came home from work every evening tired and sore. I bet she would love to get a professional massage for her sore muscles. If I did it right, I could probably get her to agree to do it naked. I might finally have the chance to see and feel all over my mother's enticing body.
I know the odds were long, and a massage was probably as far as it would go, but I had to try. I had to see her naked. I HAD to feel that body. To finally touch the object of my greatest desire, the chance was too enticing not to take. It might be all I got from her, but it would probably be enough. If I played my cards right, I could finally hold the object of my most hidden desires the way I wanted. Over the weeks, I formulated my seduction. I would have her, if only in a small way. For one night, for a brief time, she'd be mine.
On a Friday night, as she came home after a long day of work, I put my plan into action. When she first arrived, I acted as I had every other week when her weekend began. We ate dinner, we had our personal time apart, but later that night, during our weekly movie night, I found the perfect opening. I don't ever remember the movie. Just the events that led me to a place I would never forget. As the movie rolled on, I noticed mom often cricking her neck, rubbing her thighs, or stretching her back. My heart jumped. Here was my chance. She was tired and sore, a massage was just what she needed. I silently thanked the powers above for my perfect opening. As she stretched again, I made my move.
"Mom, are you okay?" I asked her. She turned and looked at me, smiling her pretty smile that always melted my heart. "I'm fine, Dana. I'm just sore from the work week. You would think being a receptionist would be an easy job, but I assure you it's not. The chairs they give us are so uncomfortable and I'm on my feet too much." I smiled upon hearing this. I could help her now, and it came with a bonus for me. Casually, I made my first move. "You know mom, I am training to be a massage therapist. Maybe I could practice some with you. You could get a nice, semi-professional massage, and I could improve my skills."