“Figures.” I sighed, “A good looking young man says I'm hot and it's only my son, stroking my ego."

“My friend's think you're hot." He rolled his eyes, “You have no idea how much crap I've heard since middle school about how hot my mother is.”

I thought he hadn't heard anything yet if any of his friends happened to be fans of watered down incest porn.

“Well your hot milf mom is going to take her old ass to bed." “Bet you're tired." “I am." I agreed, "Sore to, thank you for the shoulder rub.”

“Least I can do, you work so hard for us." He leaned over and I yelped in surprise when he grabbed my ankles and swung my feet up and placed them across his knees.

“What are you doing?"

“Your feet have to be killing you." Paul replied, taking my right foot between his hands.

“Honey, you don't have to," I stopped and emitted a sound of pure delight as his strong fingers kneaded the soft skin of the sole of my foot.

“Um, well if you insist."

"I do." He looked at me with a serious expression on his face, “You deserve to be pampered, Mom. I can't do much compared to what you do for me, but I can try to make you feel good.”

“You just did, honey I said softly, “More than you can know."

He gave me a sweet, ‘aw shucks' grin, then went to work on my tired feet. Paul was pretty damned good with his hands. He'd been rubbing my shoulders for years and had made a remark to John that the girls loved his back rubs.

I slid further down into the couch and relaxed, taking him up on his offer to pamper me. I watched his fingers work their way across both my feet, the tips massaging the spot just under each toe.

My black stocking encased feet looked small in his large hands as I watched him lift my leg up to begin massaging my heel with his other hand.

“Take these off." He tugged on the stocking, pulling it away from my toes.

“It will feel better."

“I don't think that would be right."

“Why? He looked puzzled, “It's your legs and feet." he grunted, “I know you're my mom, but newsflash, I've seen you in shorts and," He gasped, "Barefoot!"

What did I think? Had those damn mother son shoots gotten me to where I really thought sons wanted their damn mothers? The stockings were thigh highs and grabbing them just below my skirt I was able to tug them down below the hem enough to where I could push them down my legs past my knees.

Paul took them from there, peeling them down and over my feet and I had the odd thought he'd been pretty confident in that move. It was sometimes hard to remember he was a man now and I'm certain had undressed a few girls.

He resumed his rubbing my feet and I had to agree, it did feel better, especially when he stopped massaging and simply ran his fingers lightly along the tops of my feet.

“That tickles." I giggled, “But feels good, too."

Paul pressed a little harder so it no longer tickled, but simply felt damn nice. He began rubbing the soles of my feet the same way, his fingers running lightly from the tips of my toes to the bottom of my heels.

I purred happily and closing my eyes let my mind drift as Paul continued to caress my feet. His touch grew softer, but this time it didn't tickle. I was so relaxed I began to nod off. I was distantly aware of his hands still working my feet, but otherwise my mind was blissfully calm and my body totally relaxed.

My eyes jerked open when Paul's hands slid from my feet and up my leg. He was still just moving his fingers back and forth, but now along my inner calves. He wasn't looking at me, but staring intently at his hands on my legs.