MILF Masseuse

By Alana Church

Tom Beecham didn't mind that his girlfriend Sandy was from the wrong side of town. But on his birthday, Sandy gave him a gift certificate of a free massage from her mother Valerie, a professional masseuse. What he didn't know is that the two women had a plan. And that plan was to share everything. Including him!

~~~~~ PG Excerpt ~~~~~

“Spread your legs a little for me, honey,” Valerie said.

“Hmmm?” His sleepy mumble was confused, but he obeyed her. She dropped her head, her face closer and closer to the cleft of his buttocks. She smiled, seeing what she had hoped for. She breathed on his skin. Then, before he could react, she opened wide and began to pleasure him.

“Christ!” Tom yelped, and flinched violently. With a muffled curse, he scrambled away.

“Valer...Mrs. Summers, what the hell are you doing?”

“What does it look like, Tom?” she replied, completely unperturbed. Sandra had warned him this would be the crucial moment. “I'm trying to seduce you. You're young, good-looking, smart, funny...and you're certainly capable,” she finished, looking down at him with a certain lecherous glee.

“I am also,” he snapped, covering his crotch with hands, “dating your daughter. Who I am in love with. I am not going to lose what I have with her just because you're looking for some young meat.”

“Oh, don't be so melodramatic,” she replied, peeling off her shirt. She tossed it aside, smirking as Tom's best efforts couldn't keep his eyes off her breasts. She cupped one of them in one hand, weighing it thoughtfully. “Do you think I'd do something like this without her knowing? How many times has she told you, Tom? We share everything. And now we want to share you.

“Tell me,” she said to his slack-jawed incredulity. “She told you about her plan to get out of town last night, right?” When he nodded, she continued. “Well, whose plan did you think it was? It was mine. I've lived here for thirty-seven years. I know how badly this place treats women who don't conform. I had my chance to get out. I blew it. I don't intend for the same thing to happen to Sandra.”

“Why don't you leave?”

She laughed bitterly. “As if it's that easy. I've got no education besides what I got over at HHS and one skill. Every month I make just enough money to cover the rent on the salon and this dump. Where's the money to cover moving costs? Rent on a new apartment?

“No, Tom,” she said, voice softening. “It's too late for me. But not too late for her.”

“So what's this supposed to be? A bribe to make sure I stay with Sandy? Two women for the price of one?”

“Don't be silly,” a new voice said. They both turned to see Sandy standing in the doorway. She was naked, and a smile played over her lips as she stepped into the room. “I just want my mother to be happy. Like I am with you, Tommy.” She leaned down to brush his lips, then stood behind her mother, her hands gently caressing her back. “And to be honest, I think it's really hot. Seeing the two of you together... Damn.”

“You told me you wouldn't be here.”

Her eyes were clear and guileless. “I lied."

• Language: English
• Publisher: Boruma Publishing, LLC
• Release date: Jun 6, 2016
• ISBN: 9781311781345

Alana Church

Born and raised in Illinois, Alana attended the University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign, graduating with a degree in Education in 1994. She soon found out that the teaching life was not for her, and after a series of adventures has settled down in the Chicago suburbs, where she works for a telecommunications company.Alana lives alone, surrounded by books, pictures, a pile of story ideas, and a turtle named Pedro.

Book preview

MILF Masseuse

By Alana Church

Artwork by Moira Nelligar

Copyright 2016 Alana Church

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~~ All characters in this book are over 18. ~~

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"Happy Birthday, dear Thomas, Happy Birthday to yoooou!"

With scattered cheers, the song faded into the June evening. Tom's mother laid the chocolate cake, glowing with the light of eighteen candles, on the table in front of him. He stood, taking a deep breath, then blew it out in a mighty whoosh. The flames flickered and went out.

Another, smaller cheer went up from his younger brother and sister, who helped pull the candles out of the cake to be saved for the next birthday. Tom smiled as he caught Debbie licking the frosting off the end of one. Catching his glance, she stuck out her tongue at him, daring him to say anything. He winked at her, happy to see her enjoying herself for once. He remembered what he had been like at thirteen. Prickly, sensitive, and quick to take offense at any imagined slight.

Well, I guess I'm an adult now, he thought. Legally, at least. I can vote and everything. Yay.

His mother, meanwhile, was busy slicing the cake and setting pieces in front of everyone on clean white saucers. Eighteen years old, she said, sitting down. Who would believe it? It seems like yesterday when we brought him home from the hospital, doesn't it, Todd?

His father grunted, his eyes on the baseball game which could be seen through the door leading to the family room.

Tom showed me some of his baby pictures the other day, his girlfriend Sandy put in, trying to keep the conversation going. She smiled over at him, her eyes twinkling. He was so cute. Those big brown eyes and those pink cheeks. I just wanted to pick him up and cuddle him.

Mary Beecham nodded, her smile becoming more like a grimace. Tom sighed. The cold war between his mother and Sandy had been going on ever since he and Sandy had started dating, and showed no signs of warming. His mother could not accept the fact that her son, a high school graduate and only a few months away from becoming the first member of their family to go to college, would choose to spend time with a girl from the wrong side of the tracks, no matter how beautiful she was.

And Sandy was beautiful, Tom thought. He was far from a disinterested observer, but he knew how everyone else at the high school reacted to her presence. Other guys talked about her in the locker room. And there was blank-eyed disbelief on their faces when he showed up at the Valentine's Day dance with her on his arm.

Truth be told, he hadn't been able to believe it himself. Nearly a year younger than his classmates, due to having skipped the first grade, he hadn't been a member of any of the popular cliques in the school. Good enough at soccer to start as a midfielder, but not one of the jocks. Smart enough to get a partial scholarship to Illinois State, but not one of the nerds. Certainly not