The Return of Molly Minx

"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.

As it happened when he was rubbing my neck, an image leaped into my mind. It was the short clip I'd filmed two months ago, 'At the feet of my mother'. The limited premise was the son had a foot fetish, particularly for his mother's feet and would jerk off into her stockings and shoes.

At the 'climax' the son, actor Nick Nasty, was giving his hot mom, Molly a foot rub during which he was hard and eventually his hands strayed up my legs, past my knees, to my inner thighs, then beyond.

My heart beat faster as I watched his fingers move higher up on my calves, he massaged them gently and it should have felt nice, but instead my body tensed. When his fingers worked their way behind my knees, I kicked my right leg out and snapped, "Stop that!"

"Whoa!" Paul exclaimed, pulling his hands away, "Did I hurt you?"

The look of genuine concern on his face made me feel like an idiot, what the hell was I thinking?

"Sorry! I'm really ticklish back there." I said, hoping he bought it.

"You sure? You kind of snapped when I was rubbing your neck too." He frowned, "You don't like me touching you?"

"I'm just kind of snappy because I'm tired." I swung my legs off the couch and leaning over kissed his cheek, "That felt nice, honey, but I need to get some sleep. You do too."

"I'll go to bed in a few minutes. I have to send a couple e-mails."

"Okay, see you in the morning. I'll make pancakes?"

"Sounds good, love you, mom."

"Love you too, Paul."

We left the living room and as he sat back down at the dining room table, I kept going, heading upstairs to my room. Grabbing something to change into, I went into the bathroom and took my third shower of the day. At least this shower was only to wash off the smell of food and not cum and shame.

Although it was late, I took my time, letting the hot water soothe my back as I slowly washed up. I watched as a trail of soapy water ran down my flat stomach and firm thighs and couldn't stop thinking it looked like a thick load of cum.

In my first round as Molly I'd once done a scene where eight men stood around me as I sucked them and they all jerked off on my face and tits, load after load dripping down my body.

I turned around and quickly rinsed off, wondering why I couldn't stop thinking about things like that, especially from that long ago. I might be doing sleazy make believe mom stuff now and yes had just had sex with two men, but no more gang bangs or cum showers or, I shuddered, double penetrations.

Shutting the water off, I stepped out, towel dried my hair and after drying off slipped on a pair of old jogging pants and a loose fitting t-shirt. I looked at myself in the full length mirror and thought, now this is a how a real mother dresses around her kid. Then sighed, at some point Dan or another director would figure that one out and film a 'what's mom hiding under there?' shoot.

I passed Paul's room, noticing the door was now shut. He must have finished up downstairs. I reached my room and just before I went in remembered I'd left my boots and the stockings down stairs by the couch.

"Fuck it, tomorrow's another day." I muttered, then stopped with my hand on my bedroom door. I thought again of that foot fetish video.

This wasn't the first time Paul had rubbed my feet and each time had been after work meaning I always had stockings on. Why had he asked me to take them off? For that matter why did I? I thought of how nimbly-and quickly-he removed them and how his hands had wandered higher up my leg.

"Stop being stupid." I whispered, this was real life, not a perverted porn clip and my son loved me in a healthy, albeit occasionally over protective, way.

Yet I still found myself walking barefoot down the stairs and into the living room. I flipped on the light and picking up the boots looked around the couch and on the floor, even looked inside the boots.

The stockings were gone.

I shut the light off and hurrying up the stairs, knocked on Paul's door. I heard him mumble something and when he opened the door, he was in a pair of shorts and his eyes were bleary, "What's up, mom, everything okay?"

"Where are they?" I demanded.

"Where's what?" He rubbed at his eyes, then ran his fingers through his tousled hair.

"My stockings, they weren't downstairs, you have them?"

"Stockings? I tossed them down the laundry chute before I came upstairs."

"Laundry chute." I repeated, feeling like an idiot.

"Why would you think I had them?" Paul's eyes narrowed.

"I don't know, thought maybe you took them by accident."

"How would I do that?"

"I don't know, just not thinking straight I guess." I told him. "That was my last good pair and I wanted to make sure I didn't lose them."

"Right." He said in a tone that said he didn't believe my lame excuse. His eyes tried to find mine, but I turned my head, avoiding his gaze.

"Anyway, sorry I woke you." I briefly touched his cheek. "Go back to sleep."

"You go to sleep." He replied. "Seriously, you're acting freaky tonight."

"You're right, heading to bed now." I said weakly over my shoulder as I went down the hall and into my room.

I gratefully slid under the covers and rolling over onto my side wondered if it was guilt or exhaustion causing me to be unable to keep my work out of my head to the point I was confusing my own son with some idiotic porn premise.

My eyes fell on the picture of John and I on the day of our wedding. I was wearing white, god talk about ballsy. I focused on his face and as I had every night for the last few months whispered, "I'm sorry, baby."

*****

"Holy shit, Mary." Dan whistled, "You asked him if he took your stockings?"

"That's what I said." I grinned ruefully, "I totally over reacted."

"I'll say." He agreed and picking up his mug, took a sip of coffee, before cutting into his fourth pancake. "Damn these are good!" he laughed, "You're a woman of many talents!"

"True, but usually if you're good at sex, cooking is irrelevant."

"Not if you're with an Italian guy, they might prefer the food." he winked, "I know. My damn father and uncles used to roll their eyes over meatballs like they were getting a BJ. Me? You can feed me canned Tuna, I want the BJ."

I laughed and sitting back in my chair, sipped at my tea. It had been a nice morning. I'd gotten up at seven when I heard Paul heading downstairs to go running and when he came back, I was downstairs making his favorite, chocolate chip pancakes.

I hadn't made them in weeks and Paul's eyes lit up like it was Christmas day and after giving me a huge bear hug, dove into a stack of them like he hadn't eaten in days. I'd sat across from him, eating one pancake to his four as he chatted away about trying out for the track team and his classes.

I'd had one bad thought, thinking this was what being a mom was about, making her son breakfast, then recalled a scene I'd sat through, while awaiting my own. Julie May, a fifty year old brunette bombshell paraded around the kitchen set, in a robe that showed her ass cheeks and ended up with her 'son' eating her out on the kitchen table. No scenario remained unturned in these things.

But that thought passed quickly, especially being that I was in about as un sexy of an outfit as one could imagine, a pair of SpongeBob pajama pants, slippers and a loose fitting Ozzy T-shirt, my hair pulled up in a clip and no makeup. The real Molly Minx ladies and gentlemen.

Paul's going on about school led to his job at the bookstore and as he was discussing all things Paul, I saw the perfect chance to ask why he hadn't been dating anyone. I was waiting for him to finish up a story about a rude customer and was going to bring up his lack of female company, but that's when Dan showed up.

It was bad timing, but Paul was excited to see him and seeing we were just about done eating, I'd gotten up and made Dan some pancakes while Paul rambled on to Dan pretty much everything he'd said to me.

I enjoyed watching the two of them together. Despite his career choice, Dan was a surprisingly normal guy. He was laid back, had a good sense of humor and was loyal to a fault. A stand up guy who would do anything for his friends.

He'd been my best friend ever since my first go around in porn and the fact he'd even won John over as a friend was a testament to what a good guy it was. Of course early on in our relationship John had wanted me to have nothing to do with anyone from the industry let alone Dan. Whom I had done several scenes with.

John was jealous, seeing Dan as an ex lover of sorts and not listening to my explanation that in the industry we had sex with who we were told to, it was scripted and we went through the motions like the meat puppets we were.

John didn't want to hear it and I didn't have any contact with Dan for a year and a half until he showed up on our doorstep and told John he was going to be my friend and if he didn't like it he could shoot him, but otherwise, he wanted to be able to visit with me.

John was impressed enough with Dan and my stories of how he had helped me in my most naïve days and steered me clear of the worst producers and actors and looked out for me. Eventually Dan became 'Uncle Dan" to Paul and had treated him as if he really were his nephew.

Next to Paul, Dan was who I'd leaned on the most when John passed and when I'd first decided to go back into the industry he had spent weeks trying to talk me out of it, even tried to say he would block my return with some BS story about me, but in the end he caved, but only if I allowed him to be my agent and look out for me as he had before.

Watching him with Paul, who now had him playing Candy crush on his phone and laughing at him, I was filled with mixed emotions. On the surface it was a nice time. An old dear friend visiting and spending time catching up with his unofficial nephew and best friend.

On the otherhand I recalled Dan's remark yesterday that if Paul ever found out about my career and searched my name, he could find old films of me. There were classic porn websites and I knew of at least three movies featuring Dan and I fucking.

Worse was if he managed to find out Dan was my agent, a pimp of sorts lining up my work including who I'd be fucking and what the premises were. Not only that, but he was mostly directing these days, having only me and one other girl and an actor as clients. Paul could easily discover Dan was sitting there giving me directions as I fucked in front of him.

I'd pushed it away and told myself to live in the moment and this was a nice moment. It was normalcy. Making breakfast for my son and spending time with an old friend. In fact it was a family moment of sorts and those had been few and far between since John had passed.

I'd glanced at the time and told Paul he had to get moving and after giving Dan a 'manly hug' as he made sure to call it, he gave me a syrup coated kiss on the cheek, laughing as I scowled at him and wiped it off, then headed out.

As Dan had begun attacking the pancakes, I'd told him what I'd been dealing with starting with the recurring dreams of Paul finding "Molly" and then going into the constant reminders of what I did for shoots popping into my head whenever I was around Paul. I'd finished with last night's ridiculous attack of paranoia.

"I think you've had your share of BJ's over the years." I replied to his joke.

"They never get old." he grinned, "But I do, going to have to start thinking about the blue pills."

"You just want the blue pills to keep up with the teenies when you cast them."

"Come on, Mary, I don't do that shit, I just direct, I stopped trying out the talent years ago. I saw myself becoming Brad and didn't like it."

"Sorry."

"I need the pills for when I date the teenies." He winked.

"Tell me you're not."

"No, I've been with Sharon a five years now. She's a good woman, doesn't hassle me about what I do and takes my word for it I just look and don't touch."

"Good for you, glad you're happy."

"But you're not." He finished swabbing up the syrup with a last bite of pancake and putting his fork down sat back,

"Time for I told you so, Mary. A mother of a kid old enough to know what porn is has no real business in it." He paused, "I should add a decent parent who cares about their kid and you're one of those."

"According to you just now, I'm not because I'm doing it." I said glumly.

"I didn't mean it like that." He sighed and picking up his coffee took a sip as he looked everywhere but at me.

Dan had taken good care of himself and although at forty seven his hair was becoming more salt than pepper, his face was still smooth and his electric blue eyes were as bright as ever. Dan still went to the gym and stayed in shape and for the most part it was still easy to see his early twenties badly named alter ego 'Stevie Stroker' sitting in front of me.

"You did mean it and you're right. I keep thinking of what Paul said in that dream. I'm being selfish, I'm risking ruining his life and our relationship for what I want."

"Um, newsflash, Paul never said that. If you dreamt it, you said it."

"True." I nodded in agreement.

"Dreaming it a lot and I still can't believe I thought he'd," I hesitated, "Want to jack off on my thigh highs like one of those moronic fantasies." I laughed, "I know boys can be boys, but he's twenty, he's been with girls, he's past 'look its mom's panties' that's thirteen year old crap."

"Not really." He said.

"What do you mean?"

"Mary, everything we shoot is a fantasy. Interracial, group, BDSM, Lesbian, school girl, it all sells because people have those fantasies."

"Your point?"

"Milf is the hottest thing out there these days, but a big faction of it is the mom son stuff." He put his mug down and spread his hands out, "We only shoot what sells, people want this in real life."

"Come on." I waved my hand at him.

"In fact the reason any incest or step incest video does well is unlike all the other stuff it's a fantasy that in the real world should stay fantasy. Want to be gang banged? You can arrange it, want to have sex with an older or younger man or woman, you can do it, interracial, easy enough. You like the idea of fucking your mom? Better keep it to yourself."

"So you really think there's that many guys who want their mommy?" I asked dubiously.

"They wouldn't be top rated videos if they didn't. Lot of young guys get some blurred lines with their moms. Or have you never heard of an Oedipus complex?"

"I don't know why, but I just figured this stuff played to the kinky type as in that's hot, but I would never."

"Most would never because they'd get sent to therapy or be kicked out of the house." Paul laughed, "That's the appeal to these things; it feeds a need that can't be fed unless you're a Jerry Springer episode."

"I still don't see how a guy Paul's age would want their mother."

"In the sense of how stupid the movies we usually film are, you're right. It takes more than them catching mom in the shower to want to fuck them. In real life it's an emotional thing, its love for a mom crossing over to seeing her as a woman and being the man in her life in every way."

"That's pretty deep, you give this a lot of thought?"

"Honestly, I was talking to Malcolm Stone. You know, Stone Cold productions?"

"Who doesn't? Guy was a legend as a porn star and even bigger as a producer, his sites are all top rated."

"And he's a serious kinkster." Dan grinned, "Got himself a mommy complex. Loves the fantasy. That's why his loving mothers site is all softer erotic shoots, he looks for the romance angle not just the fucking and look at where he is on the charts. It kicks the crap out of the Nasty Mom site we shot for yesterday."

"I do prefer those." I told him, "If I have to do them, they're better." I rolled my eyes, "At least I don't have to deal with oh, two sons fucking their mom is better than one!" I grunted, "Idiotic, even by porn standards."

"Yeah?" He grinned, "Good to know, Malcolm was pretty impressed with the couple of loving mothers shoots you did."

"Because he likes them?"

"Because a lot of people do." Dan leaned forward, folding his arms on the table. "Okay, look at you and Paul. John passes, you're alone. You're working hard, Paul appreciates it."

"He does, what are you getting at?"

"He sees himself as man of the house, he tries to do what he can for you including a massage and a nice foot rub. He's protective of you, he loves you, he wants you to be happy. You're not dating right?"

"I get plenty of sex thank you." I said dryly, "And I'm already lying to Paul about what I do, don't need a boyfriend to add to the guilt."

"And you said Paul's alone. So say, he gets it in his head that he should be the man in every way? Sees you as a woman not just mom?"

"Knock it off!" I snapped, "My son isn't one of those pigs you and the other sick pricks write into scripts."

"Never said he was." He put his hands up defensively, "I'm giving you an example. Besides you're the one who seemed to think he was going to whack off on your stockings."

"I was being an idiot which is how this started." I rubbed at my temples, "I don't want to talk about sons who think they should they want their mothers."

"What do you want to talk about, then?"

"I hate what I do, Dan. I hate myself before and after every shoot. Hate myself whenever I look at my son and think of John."