“Ok, that should be everything, right?” mom questions dropping off the last box,

“Yup,” I answer back as I put down my box, cracking my back afterwards, “Thanks again for helping me move, mom. You’re amazing.”

“Well, what kind of a mother bird would I be if I didn’t help my baby bird soar? Not a very good one.”

“Ha-ha, I guess you have a point there.”

“I always have a point, Taylor. You know this. Now, are you sure you don’t need any help with putting your stuff away? Because, I assure you, I have no issue with helping.”

“Mom, I already told you, what you’ve done is plenty. I’ve got this. Don’t worry your head about it, ok? Plus, I already have a system I have planned. You don’t know where everything will be put, relocated seven different times, thrown randomly out of frustration for not having a clue to where to put them, to finally being settled where it’ll be forgotten until auction time at garage sales.”

Mom snickers at my remark. I can’t even join in because I’m just too impressed with myself. All of that was just off the top of my head. I love my brain.

“Well, I wouldn’t wanna impose on your significant portion of your ten year plan,” she responds sarcastically,

“Hardy har-har,” I respond, “Laugh it up until you’re in line for one of my stuff and get rejected. Remember this day when that happens.”

“Dreading it right now. Well, you don’t need mommy holding your hand anymore. I’ll just get out of your hair. Remember to call in exactly twenty minutes. That’s when I get home. Alright, love you.”

“Wait, mom!” I interject, stopping her in her tracks, “Moving my stuff here wasn’t exactly a trip to the store. I can see how exhausted you are. Why not take a load off here? I’ll get us some refreshments and we can just hang out for the night.”

“Aw,” she retorts, “Is this your way of telling me you don’t want me to go yet? Oh, it’s like preschool all over again.”

“Hilarious. Now, sit. Your feet have gotta be killing you.”

She complies, sitting on the sofa, as I go to my kitchen for a couple of bottles of soda. I return to the living room, handing her a bottle before sitting down right beside her.

“So,” I start, cracking open my bottle, “This is finally it. After just twenty-two years, I’m finally out on my own.”

“I know,” she responds after taking a sip, “It feels like just yesterday I was teaching you how to walk. And look at you now: good career, good house, it’s just crazy to put into perspective and think about. I’m so proud of you.”

Nothing can compare to those five words. Especially from a parent.

“Thanks mom,” I reply, “But I can’t take all the credit. I mean, none of it would’ve happened if I was never born. You’re literally the best thing that could’ve happened to me.”

She embraces me in a hug as we exchange “I love you”s. I really do love my mom. She’s the best. She’s always there when I need her, whether it be for venting about boys, picking me up when I get ditched by shitty “friends”, asserting and encouraging me to push towards what I wanted, all while she was all alone. Dad died before I could even talk and everyone else bailed at any chance they got. I was all she had and she was all I had.

I’ve always found it unfair, though. While it is her duty as a parent, she’s never gotten a proper break from it all. Work and the government telling her to provide would always rear their ugly heads. She’s never had a real vacation. I don’t even think she’s experienced a proper weekend. She was always doing something. Plus, now she’s gonna have to go back to living alone after helping me carry these heavy boxes. I think it’s about time we changed that. Time for you to finally relax, mom.

“You know, mom,” I start, “I know a guy who’s in the reflexology business and he actually showed me a few things.”

She narrows her eyes, making me realize the mistake of my phrasing.

“Wait, no!” I reiterate “That came out wrong. He wasn’t performing on me. It was all dummy. Anyway, all he taught me was how to give a good foot massage. So, if you’re interested, I can implement my learnings.”

“What do I keep telling you?” she responds before taking another sip,

“I know, I know,” I answer, “‘Those who get massages are just pampered losers who don’t know what it is to truly work.’ And, while that argument was daunting, I finally have a counterpoint to end it once and for all: limited experience.”

“Taylor.”

“Look, just give it a chance. Just a few minutes and this is never brought up again if you don’t like it.”

She ponders for a moment. Come on. Pleeeease.

“I don’t know,” she retorts,

“Mom, please,” I plead, “I just wanna take care of you. You’ve done so much for me already. Just let me thank you in the best way I can.”

I then give her a pout, knowing she can’t say no to her little girl forever. And I’m right. She sighs again and says,

“Three minutes. No more, no less.”

Yes! Phase one of my plan is complete. Now for phase two. Which can’t be too hard. Three minutes is plenty of time. Plus, she’s pretty worn out from today. This’ll be a piece of cake.

“Thanks, mommy,” I reply in excitement before pecking her on her cheek. She smiles back before I immediately kneel in front of her, taking off her shoes and socks. I then take a second to look at her feet. They’re so tiny it’s adorable. They’re almost the size of a baby’s. But that’s enough ogling. Time is of the essence. I grab her left foot, working my magic. I look to see her reaction. It’s clear she likes it, but doesn’t wanna admit it. Fine. I add more pressure, earning a sigh of bliss. Gotcha. She takes a glance at me and sees my smug face.

“Shut up,” she says, turning her head away, “It’s only because you’re good at anything you do.”

“Thanks, mom,” I respond, flattered, “Only the beast for you.”

I continue my actions, forming my rhythm and balancing my pressure. The more I go, the more proud I’m feeling of myself. If only I could perform something like this on myself. That’d really be something.

A while passes of massaging mom’s feet. I got too entangled with it, I lost track of time. I snap back into reality when I hear a faint snore. I look up to see that mom’s out cold. Perfect. She must’ve been even more exhausted than I though. But I need to make sure she’s truly out of it.

“Mom,” I whisper. Nothing. I try again, louder. Still no response. Yes! Finally, my plan’s coming to fruition. And it only took a little over three years. Now it’s happening. Not only thanking her for all she’s done for me, but alleviating some of the weight on her shoulders. Let me take the stress away, mommy.

I grab the hem of her blue leggings, gently pulling them down, thanking my lucky stars that she’s such a heavy sleeper. I will forever be grateful for accidentally tripping over and falling on her while she slept without so much as a twitch from her. But to this day I still feel bad, so she can also consider this an apology for it.

Once the leggings are completely off, I move onto her green and pink striped panties, gently maneuvering them from around her waist, pulling them from her rear, down her legs, and through her feet. I then bring the garments to my nose, deeply inhaling the scent of my mommy’s delectable pussy. The smell alone is so intoxicating that it’s starting to turn me on. I can’t wait to taste her.