Chapter 12: Grace’s Curiosity and Complications

The farmhouse kitchen, usually bustling with morning activity, was quiet in the late afternoon. Alice was out tending the furthest fields, and Kray had a rare lull in his client schedule, a welcome respite after a string of back-to-back massages. Grace moved around the kitchen, preparing a simple supper, her movements graceful and efficient even in her worn cotton dress.

Today, however, the worn cotton dress seemed… different. Or perhaps it was just Kray's increasingly perverted perception. The neckline, normally modestly high, seemed to dip a little lower than usual, revealing a tantalizing glimpse of the soft curve of her collarbone and the shadowed valley between her breasts.

The fabric, thin and light in the lingering summer warmth of the kitchen, clung to her figure, hinting at the gentle sway of her hips and the gentle swell of her curves with each movement. Kray tried to avert his gaze, focusing on peeling potatoes, but his eyes kept drifting back to his mother, a strange mix of familial affection and… something else… stirring within him.

He had noticed Grace's subtle glances at him throughout the day, a curious light in her usually gentle eyes. He knew word of his "pleasure healing" was swirling through Luma like wildfire. He could hear the hushed whispers even when clients arrived, the mix of curiosity and scandal in their voices. And Grace, naturally, was observant and deeply attuned to the undercurrents of their small town.

"You've been busy lately, Dray," Grace commented, her voice casual as she stirred the stew pot simmering over the fire. "Lots of folks coming to the farm." She didn't look at him directly, but he could feel her gaze lingering on him, assessing, curious.

"Just… a few," Kray mumbled, avoiding her eyes, feeling a blush creeping up his neck. "Word seems to be spreading."

Grace chuckled softly, a warm, knowing sound. "Spreading like wildfire, more like. Mrs. Gable practically shouts it from the rooftops, and Elara… well, Elara's been singing your praises to half the village." She finally turned to face him, her eyes twinkling with amusement. "'Pleasure healing,' they're calling it. Sounds rather… intriguing."

Kray's blush deepened. "It's just… massage, Mama. Relaxation. It helps with pain." He tried to downplay the "pleasure" aspect, even to Grace, his own mother.

Grace raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk tugging at her lips. "Relaxation, eh? And they say it's… particularly relaxing. Pleasurable, even." She emphasized the word "pleasurable" with a knowing tone that made Kray's stomach clench with nervous excitement.

He stammered, struggling to find the right words. "Well, it's… supposed to be soothing. The skill… it's called… [Pleasure]." He finally admitted the name, the word tasting both forbidden and thrilling on his tongue, especially when spoken to his mother, who stood there, her dress clinging to her curves, her eyes alight with playful curiosity.

Grace leaned against the kitchen counter, crossing her arms, her gaze fixed on him, sharp and yet undeniably… playful. "Pleasure, you say? Hmm. Sounds rather… mysterious. And a little… scandalous, if the whispers are to be believed." She paused, letting the silence hang in the air, her eyes studying him intently.

"Tell me, Dray," she said finally, her voice dropping to a softer, more intimate tone, "this 'pleasure healing' of yours… what exactly does it entail?" She tilted her head slightly, her dark hair cascading over her shoulder, the movement drawing his gaze involuntarily to the gentle curve of her breast revealed by the slightly lower neckline.

Kray's heart pounded in his chest. This was it. The moment of truth. Grace wasn't just curious; she was probing. And there was a definite undercurrent of… something else… in her voice, in her gaze. Something that wasn't just maternal concern, but a hint of… perhaps… a more personal curiosity about this "pleasure" he was now dispensing.

He swallowed hard, trying to keep his voice steady. "It's… hard to explain, Mama. It's… massage, but… with a special energy. It's… very relaxing. It eases tension, relieves pain." He still avoided the more explicit details, the moans, the blushes, the suggestive whispers of his clients.

Grace's smirk widened, becoming more overtly playful now. "Oh, I'm sure it's very… relaxing. But I'm a bit stiff myself today, Dray. All that weeding in the south field. My shoulders are quite tight." She subtly shrugged her shoulders, as if demonstrating her stiffness, the movement causing the thin fabric of her dress to shift, emphasizing the gentle sway of her breasts beneath.

And then, she dropped the playful pretense, her gaze becoming direct, almost challenging. "Tell you what, Dray," she said, her voice now laced with a clear, almost daring proposition. "Why don't you… demonstrate this 'pleasure healing' of yours? Show me how it works. On me."

Kray froze, his mind blank for a moment, his breath catching in his throat. A demonstration? On Grace? His mother? The thought sent a jolt of both panic and illicit excitement through him. Massaging Grace, in a "demonstration" of his pleasure skill? It was… intensely intimate, deeply taboo, and undeniably… arousing.

He stammered, struggling to find a polite refusal. "Mama, I… I don't know if that's… appropriate. It's just… massage. You don't need a demonstration. I can just… give you a regular massage, like I always do."

Grace chuckled again, stepping closer to him, her eyes fixed on his, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Oh, but Dray, I'm not just asking for a regular massage. I want to understand this 'pleasure healing' everyone's talking about. I want to see this… special energy of yours in action. And besides," she added, her gaze flickering downwards, towards his hands, a suggestive warmth entering her voice, "who better to practice on than your own mother? Someone who trusts you completely?"

Her words hung in the air, laden with unspoken implications, blurring the lines between maternal concern, playful curiosity, and something undeniably more… sensual. Kray's heart pounded against his ribs, his palms sweating, his mind a chaotic swirl of conflicting emotions. He was caught between his ingrained respect for his mother, his burgeoning pervert desires, and the undeniable pull of her intriguing, slightly dangerous, proposition.

He knew, deep down, that refusing Grace's "demonstration" would be more suspicious, more awkward, than simply agreeing. And a part of him, a part of him that was increasingly drawn to the forbidden, to the sensual, to the undeniable pleasure of his skill, desperately wanted to agree.

"Alright, Mama," he finally managed to say, his voice barely a whisper, his cheeks burning. "I… I can give you a… demonstration. Of… pleasure massage."

A slow, satisfied smile spread across Grace's face, a smile that was both maternal and something else, something that made Kray's breath catch in his throat. "Good boy, Dray," she murmured, her voice softening even further, becoming almost… caressing. "Let's see what this 'pleasure healing' is all about then, shall we?"

She led him towards the familiar stool, settling onto it with an almost expectant air, her back presented to him, the thin cotton of her dress clinging to her spine, the subtle curves of her back tantalizingly visible. Kray stood behind her, his hands trembling slightly, his heart racing, his mind a whirlwind of anticipation, nervousness, and a growing sense of forbidden excitement.

He focused on the [Pleasure] skill, the now-familiar tingling warmth flowing into his fingertips. He hesitated for a moment, then slowly, hesitantly, placed his hands on Grace's shoulders. The fabric of her dress was thin, almost translucent in the warm light, and he could feel the heat radiating from her skin, the soft curves of her shoulders beneath his fingertips.

He began to massage, starting tentatively, tracing the contours of her shoulders, his touch lighter, more hesitant than usual. Grace remained silent for a moment, her breathing shallow, as if holding her breath. Then, a soft sigh escaped her lips, a sigh that was less about relief and more about… anticipation.

Encouraged, Kray's touch became slightly more confident, his fingers kneading deeper into her shoulder muscles. He moved down her neck, tracing the delicate curve of her nape, feeling the soft skin beneath his fingertips. Grace's head lolled back slightly, her eyes fluttering closed, her breathing becoming more rapid, more shallow.

He moved his hands outwards, towards her shoulders again, and then, almost unconsciously, his hands drifted lower, tracing the curve of her shoulders downwards, towards the gentle swell of her breasts, barely concealed by the thin cotton of her dress. He hesitated for a fraction of a second, a flicker of panic mixed with an overwhelming surge of forbidden desire.

And then, he continued. His fingers, guided by an almost irresistible impulse, brushed against the soft curve of her breast, just grazing the outer edge, sending a jolt of electric sensation through his own body. Grace gasped softly, a sharp intake of breath that was almost a moan.

He continued, his touch becoming bolder, more deliberate. He cupped his hands gently over her breasts, feeling the soft fullness through the thin fabric, the warmth radiating from her skin, the faint tremor of her breath. He began to massage, tracing slow, circular motions over her breasts, feeling the subtle give of her flesh, the sensitive areolae hardening slightly beneath his fingertips.

Grace's breathing became ragged, punctuated by soft, involuntary moans that escaped her lips. Her body shifted on the stool, subtly pressing back against his touch, seeking more, demanding more. Her head lolled back further, her neck arching slightly, exposing the delicate curve of her throat.

"Oh, Dray…" she whispered, her voice thick with breathlessness, "that… that feels… different." Her words were barely audible, almost swallowed by her soft moans, but they resonated in Kray's ears like thunder.

Different indeed. This wasn't just massage. This was… something else. Something deeply sensual, deeply forbidden, deeply… perverted. He was massaging his mother's breasts, eliciting moans of pleasure, exploring the boundaries of their familial intimacy in a way he had never dared to imagine before. And Grace… she was responding. Not with shock, not with anger, but with… pleasure. And a hint of something else, something that mirrored his own conflicted mix of thrill and transgression.

He continued to massage, his own body trembling now, his heart pounding, his senses overwhelmed by the heat radiating from Grace, the soft sounds escaping her lips, the intoxicating scent of her skin, the sheer, forbidden thrill of his actions. The lines between healer and pervert, between son and… something else… were blurring rapidly, dissolving into a haze of forbidden pleasure and confusing, exhilarating intimacy. And Kray, caught in the swirling vortex of his own desires and his mother's unexpected, sensual response, found himself willingly, perhaps even eagerly, surrendering to the uncharted, deeply perverted path that lay before him.

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Name : Kray(18)

Class : Healer

Level : 2 (0/20)

LP (Love Points) : 16+2

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Skills : [Pleasure : Lvl 2], [Kiss : Lvl 1], [Ecchi moments : Lvl 1]