Massaging Mommy

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Since then he had met Larry's wife and even had a tour of their big old house which used to be a church manse. Imagine, the place was over 140 years old.

I never knew who was going to die first, but in less than a year, Teri was gone. Two days after the funeral I felt exhausted and empty and ready, at last, to go to Mom. My family had been mostly understanding about my dedication to Teri, but occasional comments from my brother — “you only have one Mom, you know” — and my aunt — “You’re coming, right? Because I don’t think I can get her to the doctor myself” — made me feel that my loyalty was in question.I appreciate everything you’ve done for me my whole life,” I said, looking down at her, placing my hand over hers. She and I exchanged glances and my message to her was that it would be okay for this man to give her a massage. She asked what she should wear and he said "As little as you feel comfortable with, preferably nothing!" Again, after exchanging glances, she started taking her clothes off, while the young man prepared the table and his oils. Then she stretched-out, naked, on the table, face-down. The first time they had met was last year when Kenny began a paper route. Kenny had marched up the front steps. "Would you like to take the weekly? He had asked. "I guarantee good service, how about it?" I never acted upon it in case I overthought things, and I didn’t want to make her feel awkward if that was the case. I think about being in the hospital,” I whispered to the ceiling. “I think how great it would be to break both my legs because then someone else would have to care for Hope and no one would blame me.” I held my breath, waiting for the earth to engulf me for exposing this terrible secret.

Teri opened her eyes, her thin hair strewn across the pillow, and smiled sleepily. “Well, hi, honey.” The collection of old houses, trailers and newly aluminum-sided buildings straddled both sides of Highway 104.Kenny stretched, then turned on his side. His memories were like a movie reel. The best part was yet to come. A few years ago, I stumbled upon an article about a man in New York City who offered highly intimate massages, resulting in dozens of satisfied women. The quotes he listed from women seemed real. The process appeared to be selective. Up until this moment, I had no idea this service actually existed for women, and I instantly felt envious of the women in New York—it was something I needed to have.

I think as women, we’ve been programmed to believe that if we receive pleasure, we have to return the favor. For me, not doing this completely shifted something inside of me. I had a startling moment of empowerment, somewhere in between orgasms, where I realized I was deserving of good things. I was deserving of love and respect. It was delivered under the guise of sensual pleasure. But still it was the same. I deserved to be seen, to be respected, to be loved. I deserved orgasms. But ultimately, I was simply deserving. I felt empowered and incredibly sad at the same time. He enjoyed staring out the window at night, elbows on the window-sill, chin cradled in his hands. There was a time when he dreamed of being an astronomer or 'star-gazer.' Everything seemed so peaceful up there. It excited the hell out of me to see him running his hands all over her body, including her gorgeous ass! Then he asked her to turn over and she did! There she was, with her naked tits and pussy fully exposed to his eyes, and hands. He seemed able to get his hands on nearly every bit of her body's surface. Mom’s comment stung, but more than anything it told me two things: She was very worried, and she wasn’t going to be able to help me. Rich was concerned, but with him, as everyone, I didn’t know what was wrong or what to ask for. And I knew he needed to work, so I tried not to let on to him how bad I was feeling. I held out a glimmer of hope though that his mother, Teri, might somehow help return me to myself.Kenny sat up and placed his feet on the cool floor, then walked slowly to the window. He knew he had the best view in Sheldon, a village of 200 people near Truro, Nova Scotia. His house sat on a hill overlooking the highway. He felt like an owl settled on a branch watching the world move along. His mind re-lived events from last Saturday when Larry took him fishing. It had been a perfect day. "This is really neat," Kenny had said, eyes dancing with excitement. Kenny really liked Larry. Remember what I told you Kenny," Larry had said, "about the different parts of the canoe?" He knew Kenny liked to be tested on his knowledge. He noticed Larry's peaked hat, with the perch fish on its front. Red vest, blue shirt, worn jeans and bare feet completed the picture. Larry's paddle was ready for action. And his eyes seemed at peace with himself. They were always full of laughter.

I learned from this experience that one of the most important aspects to building an intimate relationship with someone is creating a safe space; physically and emotionally. It’s not OK to be in a relationship where you’re not getting those needs met. But it takes communication and trust to get there. If your partner isn’t willing to have those conversations, that’s a problem. Now that I feel comfortable talking to my friends about my experience, I realize I’m not alone. “Happy ending massage” seems to be one of the most popular porn searches for women. Apparently, a large majority of women fantasize about a slow, sensual touch that ends in an orgasmic experience. Do you think that says something about what we’re missing in our sex lives?I’m worried about you,” Mom said sharply one morning after she’d placed Hope in a bouncy chair festooned with teddy bears. My mom was anxious for updates, and we spoke every day about Hope’s weight gain and our activities. Before she’d left, I’d asked Mom if she could return once Teri’s week was up. “I guess I can,” she’d responded wearily. But Teri told her boss she needed to stay another week, and that evening, I told Mom: “Teri can stay, so you don’t need to come.” Instantly, I regretted my words and the suggestion that I had Teri so I didn’t need her. “I mean, Teri’s OK,” I said lamely. I can’t quite recall what made me do it. Maybe it was his sincerity and genuine interest in women deserving pleasure. But I made an appointment for myself.