It All Started With a Massage - Sex Stories

It All Started With a Massage

It All Started With A Massage

By Jeymar

The difference between the sexes

In the spring of 1958, my father hit an electric post as we went to the weekend summer house. Only my mother was hurt. The post was on the right side of the road, the same side she was sitting in the car.

The back of the front fender got crushed in, pushing the interior wall against my mother’s ankle. She suffered a sprained ankle. The doctor prescribed much rest, abstaining from walking as much as possible, and resting in bed if possible.

My father got her some crutches and took care of the cooking for the weekend.

Back in our city house, my father asked me to stay home and care for her. I was only 16 years old and knew nothing about cooking. So, Mom got out of bed and instructed me on how to prepare lunch, and thankfully, she kept things simple. Once we had eaten, she went back to bed.

That had me locked in the house for the whole week. I was doing whatever I could to distract myself, not being used to cooping up like this.

One day, in the middle of the week, she asked me to check the ankle bandage to see if it was still ok. After a brief examination, I told her that, yes, it was just perfect.

I was surprised when she asked me to stay with her for a while. She had always been an active woman, and having to be in bed was depressing for her.

I was fidgeting, standing up in her bedroom. She told me I could sit on the bed or lay beside her if I didn’t mind.

I did and ...

... finally laid down, but just on the edge of the bed after a moment. I finally dozed off. I woke up cuddled in Mom’s arms. She was rubbing my back, and our faces were almost embracing. I felt this wasn’t normal and pulled myself up and went into the kitchen.

My mind was telling me that her actions were not typical. But deep inside, even to this day, I thought she wanted something from me, but what?

I was a shy boy, not attractive, so I had never been with a girl, and my acne face was not enticing the girls ever to consider me a potential close friend, not even one at all.

When my mother finally recovered, she offered me a book on sexuality one day. A doctor had written that he was professing retarded sexuality between a man and a woman. But mind you, these concepts were well-lived by the population, at least by my mother.

She told me she had read the book and that it would help me to read it. The doctor was teaching notions that were archaic and would be frowned upon by most people today.

The book thought that women did not get pleasure from sexual relations. Their satisfaction would come when they got pregnant and gave birth. Feeding the baby would bring the woman even more fun. Many in those years accepted that notion.

I’ll spare you all the details, but let’s say that was the basis of my sexual education. My father would have never talked to me about this subject, and I wasn’t inclined to inquire about it either.

So, I had a lot to learn. The first time I had ...