Incest

You’re going to think this is a sad story, because it starts out sad. But don’t be sad for long, brothers and sisters, because it ends up pretty OK, at least to me it does. I’m Bobby, by the way, Bobby Henderson. That really doesn’t matter to the story, except that it’s about me and my mother, Claire Henderson. There are a few other people in it too, but they only matter a little. I’ll mention them later.

My mom’s story starts out like a lot of people hope their adult lives will start, with a good marriage to a good man who gave her a good baby – that’s me – and they were pretty happy, all things considered. But my father was killed in an accident at the plant and things sort of went to shit starting then.

I was only six at the time, and I don’t really remember too much about him. I do remember my mother crying every night for a long long time after she told me he wouldn’t be coming home any more. She told me later that, in my six year old style, I tried to make her feel better, telling her that I loved her and that it was going to be OK. That’s what she told ME whenever something I thought was bad had happened. You know… scraped knee, hit by a baseball, stepped on a nail… that kind of thing. So, when I heard her crying I said the same things to her.

As strange as it sounds, the words I said to her when I was six had a profound impact on our relationship, and would continue to have that impact for years and years. More about that later.

There was a huge insurance settlement that meant my mom didn’t have to work. She loved being a mother, and, as I was her only child (she had a miscarriage a year before Dad died) she had no one else to pour her love onto except me. I think all that love she had left over from loving my father got poured on me too, but that part comes later too.

It was 1956 then, and attitudes about single mothers were different then than they are today. A widow woman in those days didn’t have much to hope for unless she was wealthy. We were, but I didn’t know it then. Mom was approached by all kinds of gold digging guys who brought her flowers and candy and the like, but she rebuffed them all. Later she told me she felt like Daddy could see her and it just seemed dirty to do the things those men wanted her to do. So, being independently secure financially, she bent her attentions to a lot of volunteer kinds of things. She was a teacher aide, and a Red Cross Donut Dolly, and she worked at the homeless shelter sometimes. She went to the library, taking me with her, and read stories to children one evening a week. I loved all those stories, and her sweet mellow voice as she read them. She had a knack for making up voices to go with the characters in the stories. She even made up a deep raspy voice when a troll spoke, and she actually sounded scary! To me at least.

And in the evenings we played games and watched TV and she asked me all about school and my friends.

My favorite time was bath time. In those days you didn’t take a bath every single day, like people do now. You took a bath when you needed one, and that was about it. A lot depended on what you did during the day. If you got hot and sweaty, you took a bath. If you didn’t do anything except sit in class, or something like that, you might not. I played outside quite a bit, with other kids in the neighborhood, so I needed a bath more often than Mom did.

The first bath I remember for sure was when I was maybe ten. I have vague memories of baths before that. Whenever mom took a bath, she put me in the tub too. It was really no different than it was any other time. As she washed herself, and me, we’d talk about things and she’d tell me stories. I do remember the feel of her soft hands sliding around on my body… across my chest, or back, or along my arms. It felt good when she touched me. And I remember that almost every single time she gave me a bath she told me what a big, strong boy I was, and how handsome I was. She said other things too, but I remember those the most.

What happened when I was ten that made me never forget it was that she was sitting down in the tub, soapy water just under her breasts, and I was standing up while she washed my legs. We’d done it this way a thousand times.

But this time I got an erection.

My little ten year old pecker reared it’s puny head and stuck straight out from my body like a flag pole off the facade at Macy’s. It was pointing right at Mom’s face like a little toy rifle. She never blinked an eye. When her hands slid down my belly they slid onto that stiff little thing and she washed it too.

“You’re a handsome boy Bobby. And a big, strong boy.” she said, like she’d said a thousand times before. “And you’ve got a big strong handsome penis that you can be very proud of.”

That was the first time I ever heard the word “penis”. All my friends called it a “dick”, but the way they said it communicated that it was a dirty word, so I never used that word around my mother.

Her hand slid under my penis to the little empty sack that was under there, more of a bulge than anything else. “And someday you’re going to have big strong handsome testicles that will be all full of nice sperm for some lucky girl.”

Now she was talking a foreign language, but her voice sounded mellow and sweet, like always, and I just assumed that whatever she was talking about was a good thing.

Then it was my turn to wash her. It had been my job, for as long as I could remember, to wash her back, and her hair, and I liked doing it. Her back was smooth and slippery in the bath water, and her skin felt good to my hands, like her hands felt good to my skin.

So I got behind her and washed her back and she handed me the shampoo like she had a thousand times before. We had a cup that we kept by the tub and we used that to capture fresh water to do her hair with. I loved pouring that cup of water over her head while she sputtered and acted funny. And I was rubbing my hands through her hair, getting up a good lather and my penis kept touching the back of her neck. It felt good doing that and I leaned forward a little, poking her more. She turned her head around and looked at what was poking her and then looked up at me with something in her eyes that made me feel all warm inside. Then she turned around and I finished up and poured three or four cups of water on her head while she sputtered and complained that she was drowning and called for help in a cartoon character’s voice.

We dried each other off too. When she was drying me she dried my still-hard penis and I asked her: “Is it going to stay like that forever?”

She smiled and said “No, it will get soft again. They always get soft again. It’s too bad, really, because they’re a lot more fun when they’re hard.”

I didn’t understand that either, but my worry that my pants would stick out at school went away. It did get soft later, when I was in bed.

But it got hard again the next time we bathed.

In fact it got hard again EVERY time we bathed after that. She never acted like it was anything to worry about, so I didn’t worry either. She started washing it more than she had in the past, though, and it felt wonderful when she did that. Her hand covered it, leaving about half an inch left over and, as she slid her hand back and forth to get that half inch clean too I got that warm feeling again, like when her big brown eyes had stared into mine.

By the time I was twelve, she was washing my penis for ten minutes at a time. I had to have the cleanest penis in town, but I didn’t care, because it felt fabulous when she did that. I was too tall to wash her hair if she was sitting down now, and she got to her knees when it was time to wash her back and hair, and now my hard dick poked into her back, I got my body right up next to hers when I did her hair, rubbing my dick all over her back because it felt so good.

Then one day she was washing my penis when I felt something happening in my groin. It was a kind of pain, but it was a pain that felt good somehow. It made me bend my knees. But it happened so fast that I got scared. I made a noise and Mom looked up at me and I guess my face was showing something because she stopped.

Something made me say “Please don’t stop.”

“What’s happening Bobby?” she asked me.

“I don’t know. It feels funny and it hurts kind of, but I want you to keep doing that.”

And she started again, staring up at my face. The pain rushed back at me again and my gut clenched and it was AWFUL… except that it was FABULOUS too! The pain streaked through my dick and it was so powerful that I had to sit down. I splashed water everywhere and bumped my head on the back of the tub. Mom was up and over me in a flash, worry in her eyes. I blinked and then grinned what must have been a funny looking grin because she laughed. She had the nicest, most musical laugh and all my worry that something bad had happened just fled. My dick felt wonderful.

“Don’t worry. It’s going to be OK. My big strong boy is close to being a big strong man.” she said. She leaned forward and kissed me on my forehead. And, like I said earlier, those words made me feel like everything was fine. What had happened was strange, and a little scary, but if she said it was going to be OK, then it was going to be OK.

Not long after that Jimmy Thompson snuck one of his father’s Playboys into school, and at recess he was showing it to a bunch of us boys. He opened it to the middle and there was a picture of a naked woman, standing by a bathtub. She was blond and had on a lot of makeup, and she looked different than my mother. The guys were saying things like “Oh MAN!” and “Look at those TITS!” and “You can almost see her PUSSY! and “Shiiit she’s sooo sexy.” These guys were salivating all over this picture and I couldn’t figure it out. I’d seen it all before, and much closer and in person, and I’d see again that night. But I was smart enough to keep my mouth shut about it.

That was the first time I realized that maybe… just maybe, the other boys didn’t take baths with their mothers. I mean all us guys took showers after gym, and I washed myself perfectly well in there and didn’t think a thing about it. But taking baths with my mother was just as normal, and I didn’t think anything about that either. At least not until Jimmy brought that Playboy to school.

Andrew Tucker bawled that he was getting a hardon and grabbed his crotch. Two other guys said they were too and I realized it was because they were looking at a picture of a naked woman.

I learned a lot that day. the rest of the day I thought about those hardons I got in the bathtub… when my mother was naked.

And, to my credit (as she told me later), I asked my mother about it as we were getting ready to take a bath that night.

“Mom, can I ask you a question?” I said.

“Sure honey.” was her completely normal reply.

So I told her about the Playboy, and about what the guys had all said, and about their erections.

She had been taking off her blouse, but she stopped as I talked. I had already taken off my shirt and was standing there in jeans and socks.

She didn’t say anything for a minute, and she was looking everywhere except at me. I remembered I hadn’t actually asked the question.

“So my question is, do I get hardons in the bathtub because I think you’re sexy?”

Now she looked at me. “You think I’m sexy?” she asked.

“I guess so. You look just like the woman in the magazine, and they said she’s sexy.”

Now I should tell you that I was about to turn thirteen, which made my mother thirty-two. And she DID look like the woman in the playboy. Her breasts were different. The woman in the magazine had big round breasts that bulged off her chest and looked like they weighed a lot. The rest of her was normal. I mean she wasn’t fat or anything. My mother’s breasts came out from her chest and then turned upwards almost, coming to a point. The tips were darker pink than the rest of her and they kind of looked like eyes that were looking in different directions, one looking slightly to the right and the other slightly to the left. In one way they looked kind of like little ski slopes or something on the tops. The bottoms were round, like that woman’s in the magazine.

And Mom wasn’t fat either. Her waist was narrow above hips that spread out and then dipped back in where her legs started. She didn’t wear lots of makeup or anything, so her face looked plain, but I had seen her in makeup when she was going to a party or someplace where grownups did whatever they did, and she looked like the woman in the magazine then too.

“Well, I knew this would happen some day.” she said with a sigh. “I guess it’s time we had a talk.” she started buttoning up her blouse. “And I guess there won’t be any more baths together.”

I thought I’d done something horribly wrong. I felt my heart pounding in my chest and my eyes got full of tears and I said “Please Mom, I’m sorry. I won’t do it again. Please don’t be mad at me.”

She looked startled and said “Whatever are you talking about Bobby?”

“I don’t KNOW!” I wailed. “But if we can’t have baths together any more you MUST be mad at me, and I don’t know WHY you’re mad, but I promise I won’t ever do it again. Please don’t make us stop.” I had suddenly equated bathing with my mother as a pleasure that was a privilege… that could be taken away for bad behavior.

She got that look in her eyes again and she jumped up and hugged me tight. ‘Oh, I’m sorry baby.” she said in those soothing mother tones. “I’m not mad at you. Not at all. You’re a fine young man, and I love you very much. But we need to talk about some things.”

I wiped my eyes, ashamed I was crying. Boys didn’t cry in those days. “Can’t we talk about it in the bathtub, like always?” I begged.

She looked startled. When I later thought back on it, while I just thought we were taking baths and feeling good, she knew exactly what was going on in the bathtub, and she assumed I did too.

She sat down on the toilet. “Maybe we can talk about it in the bath. But I have to ask you a question first. What do you know about sex?”

“Sex?” I said. “I don’t know. It’s how babies are made?” I asked hopefully.

“Do you know what two people do to MAKE a baby?” she asked patiently.

I was lost. I heard the guys talking about tits and pussies and dicks all the time, and “getting it on” was mentioned a lot too, but it was all just words to me. I mean if somebody had never seen a car and they heard the words “bumper… clutch… taillight… headliner” would they understand how a car was made?”

So, to my credit (as she later told me), I told the truth. “I don’t think so.”

She frowned and bit her lip. Then she said “Bobby, when you see me naked, what do you think about?”

Now what kind of question was that? I was trying to please her, to make her happy so we could take a bath and I’d get to wash her hair and rub my dick against her back, but I didn’t know the right answers.

“I don’t know.” I started. “I think about how pretty you are, and about how good it will feel to wash your back, and about playing with the soap in your hair to make it stand up straight like Alfalfa’s cowlick on the Little Rascals.”

“Do you like it when I wash your penis?” she asked.

“Sure, it feels great.” I said back. “It’s my favorite part, especially when I get that pain that feels so good.”

“Do you know what that nice feeling is called?” she asked, looking curious now.

“It has a name?” I asked, surprised.

She muttered “What are they teaching kids in school nowadays?” and then looked up at me. I realized she hadn’t been asking me that question. That warm look that I liked so much was in her eyes. I could almost fall into those eyes when she did that. They looked like big pools of liquid chocolate or something. And of all the things I felt my penis start getting hard.

She stood up. “Bobby, I’m going to have to teach you about sex. It’s obvious the school isn’t doing it.” Neither of us knew that the sex ed part of Health wouldn’t take place until the year I’d be fourteen, which was a whole year away. “There are things you need to know about, but it’s complicated. And I don’t want you talking with the other boys about anything we discuss. Deal?”

She was unbuttoning her blouse again and the relief that flooded over me was so strong that my eyes teared up again. I snorted and gulped and rubbed my nose and said “OK… deal.”

So I got the lecture on the birds and the bees from my mother… in the bathroom… naked as a jaybird… with visual aides.

When we were both naked, instead of getting in the bathtub she sat down on the toilet seat and told me to stand in front of her. She reached out and cupped my penis and balls in her hand. “These are what the man needs for sex” she said, hefting them. My penis got harder. “The testicles are located in here” she fingered the sack that, a year ago had been small and empty, but which, since then had grown something in there that hurt if I squeezed them too hard. I had been worried about that. I was afraid I had cancer or something. I wanted to talk to mom about it, but I was afraid, so I never did. Now, just by describing my sexual organs to me, she put my mind at ease. “And, when you’re old enough, the testicles will make sperm.” She played with them a little longer. “Your friends probably call these your balls.” she said.

That was true and I told her so.

“Now THIS” she said, putting her hand around my mostly stiff penis, “is your penis. Your friends might have lots of names for it, like cock or prick.” When the balls make sperm, that sperm comes out of this little hole at just the right time.”

“Like when I pee?” I asked.

She smiled. “No, dear. It comes out when your penis is inside the woman’s vagina.”

“Oh” I said. I had no idea what a vagina was.

She must have known that because she went on. “Your friends call the vagina a pussy, probably. There are other words for it too, but most of them are not very nice.”

I was confused. My penis stuck out a good four or five inches. I looked down at her hand, which was stroking my penis slowly. “But How can something like that go INSIDE a woman?” I asked. “There’s no room for it.”

“Yes there is.” she said patiently. She spread her legs, opening up a part of her that I’d never really seen before. I’d seen the hair, but there was more, underneath that hair that I’d never known was there. It looked like she had a little sideways mouth, with two kind of floppy lips.

“This is my pussy.” she said. One of her fingers teased the two lips apart and there was a small area of darkness, like a little hole exposed. “And it forms a tunnel up inside me.” she said. Then, as I watched unbelieving, she slid a finger up inside her body. A WHOLE finger… CLEAR up inside her! When she brought that finger out it was shiny and wet looking.

“It’s wet!” I said, involuntarily.

“Yes, my body makes something to help a penis slid up inside there. It’s a small place, and a man’s penis is big. It helps if there’s lubrication.”

“But how do you know when to… um… make some lubrication?” I asked. This was starting to sound more and more complicated.

Mom reached out and grasped my hard cock again. “Things happen automatically. Your penis gets hard when it wants to have sex. When a vagina wants to let a penis inside, it makes lubricant. Then, when the penis is inside the vagina, the sperm comes out.

She went on, explaining what the sperm did once it was inside a woman’s body, and about how the egg, if it got penetrated by a sperm, attached itself to the wall of the womb and all that stuff. It was a lot of information.

I was doing fine until we got to the part where the baby comes out of the vagina. There was no way I would believe that a whole baby could come out of a tiny little place like that. It would kill them both. We got into an argument and she insisted that it happened that way and finally I gave up and said I believed her. But I didn’t.

Then we took our bath. Just like always.

I don’t know if it was fate, or maybe the fact that I now understood and my body caught up with my brain, but on this night, when she washed my penis and that wonderful feeling, which she had just named “orgasm” came over me, it wasn’t the same. This time that awful sweet pain was there, but then I felt something going through my penis that felt so soothing. It all happened so fast that I just had a fleeting recognition of that soothing, delightful feeling when something shot out of the tip of my cock and splattered all over my mother’s breasts.

Her eyes went all round and wide and she took in a big breath that she didn’t blow back out again. I was afraid she’d think I’d peed on her, even though I knew it wasn’t pee. But her other hand came up and rubbed at the stuff I’d shot out, spreading it all over her breasts. Her hand kept going, and as I looked down I could see more of the stuff oozing and dripping out of the end of my cock.

Then she was holding me, her arms around me, my cock pressed to her breasts and her arms on my butt. It was a little like being tackled in football, except nobody was moving and it felt wonderful. It seemed like I should be doing something with my hands, so I kind of stroked her hair.

I knew something important had happened. Then her lecture of only half an hour before came back to me. In an instant of clarity I had an idea. “Was that my sperm Mom?” I asked.

Those deep brown eyes looked up at me and she smiled the widest and most brilliant smile I’d seen on her face in a long time. “Yes it is sweety. You’re a real man now.”

Then she explained what had happened and I learned a knew word: masturbation. I’d heard of jacking off, but didn’t know what it meant and somehow knew that if I asked the guys I’d get laughed at. When she put a name to what she’d been doing to me for a year, I completely understood why the guys talked about it a lot. It had just never occurred to me that I could do it for myself. That was something Mom did. Plain and simple.

But then we got into an argument because she said that mothers aren’t SUPPOSED to masturbate their sons. She said that, now that I was a man, she should stop doing that, and that our baths should stop and all kinds of things I didn’t like at all.

I remember at one point I said “If this is being a man I don’t want to be a man.”

She had a tinkling laugh and it came out now. “Bobby, you’re going to love being a man. Some day you’ll get to slide that handsome prick you have into some lucky girl’s pussy and you’ll squirt all that lovely sperm inside her and she’ll have your baby. It will be the best thing that’s ever happened to you. You won’t miss seeing your flabby old naked mother at all.”

“Really?” I said, interested now, despite the fact that I wanted to tell her there wasn’t an inch of flab on her anywhere. “When will that happen?”

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe in eight or ten years.” she said.

“EIGHT OR TEN YEARS?!” I shouted. I have to go without seeing you naked, or touching your soft skin for EIGHT OR TEN YEARS?!”

You know how little kids at the store bug their parents so much, asking for something over and over and over again that the parents finally throw up their hands and give in? Well, I wasn’t little, but I could beg with the best of them.

My mother, though she kept saying that normal mothers didn’t do these things with their sons, continued to let me bathe with her. And each time she stroked me until I came. She usually rubbed my semen, another new word she taught me, into here skin, over her breasts. I wished I could do that part, but I never asked.

Over the next year it began to get a little crowded in the tub, as I put on three inches of height and my muscles somehow got larger. I also started growing hair in places where there had been only wisps of fluff before. My voice started cracking and then settled into a baritone that I thought sounded quite good.

On my fourteenth birthday my mother did two things that I’ll remember forever. Oh, I’m sure she got me a birthday present, but I don’t remember what it was. But the first thing I remember about that dayt was that when it was bath time, and she said “Bobby, you’re just getting too big for baths.”

My first reaction was that she was going to make us stop. I wasn’t quite as emotional on the outside as I had been before, but inside I was dying. My shoulders must have slumped, or I did something that she saw, because she smiled and said “Don’t you take showers at school?”

Sure I did. “Uh… yeah.” I said.

“Then we can start taking showers here at home too.” she said simply.

There was a big glassed in shower in her bathroom, but I never went in there. The bathtub was in the main bathroom, the one I used all the time though, come to think of it, the only times I ever saw her in there was when she was doing laundry or we were taking a bath.

She led me into her bathroom, holding my hand like I was a little boy again. The shower stall was bigger than I’d thought it would be, and there was plenty of room in there for both of us. She turned on the water and then started taking her clothes off. I stood there for a minute, watching. There was something about seeing her take off her clothing in a place we’d never done it before that made it seem different somehow. I’d seen her naked hundreds of times, of course, but as her breasts came into view I saw again the pages of that Playboy magazine, and the woman standing there, showing her breasts to the world. I got instantly hard. She looked at me quizzically and I fumbled with my shirt buttons, trying to catch up to her for some reason. When I slid my pants down and my cock flopped out she smiled.

“You always make me feel pretty.” she said.

“Huh?” I responded.

“Your erections… and the way you look at me. They always make me feel pretty.” she said, dropping the last of her clothes.

“You are pretty.” I said. She was. It was just a statement of fact. “You’re just as pretty as that woman in the magazine.” I said, unthinkingly. She looked confused. “The woman in the Playboy I told you about.” I added.

Her eyes lit up and she laughed. “The girls are going to have to watch out for you pretty soon.” she said, still laughing. “With a tongue like that they’re going to be in trouble.”

We got into the shower, which was all foggy by then and soon her hands were sliding all over my body. This was different somehow. Maybe it was because in the bathtub we had washed ourselves, mostly, with the exception that I washed her back and she washed my penis until I ejaculated. But this time she washed all of me, with long strokes of her hands that felt fabulous, touching so much more of me than before. It was fantastic. I just stood there and shook with the emotions it caused. She started washing my penis and made this sound in her throat that was kind of like a growl.

“You’ve grown so much in this last year.” she said, stroking me. “You’re a man in all but years.” She was close to me. “Your father would be so proud of you.”

Her hand, sliding up and down what Jimmy Johnson had only that day called a “love bone”, felt so good I moaned. Then she stopped. I made a sound of unhappiness and she laughed again.

“Tonight, as part of your birthday present, you get to wash me.” she said. “All of me.”

It was incredible. I had felt her back a hundred times, but as I slid my soapy hands all over her she felt so much different. I wanted to wash those breasts suddenly, and my hands cupped them and squeezed them, sliding over them. There were suddenly bumps on the tips of those soft round things, and I bent over to see them. Her nipples had always been flat before, but now they stuck out… WAY out… almost like my penis got bigger and longer and stiffer. She moaned as I tweaked one, feeling its texture.

“Wash me everywhere.” she said. She sounded like she had run some little distance, and was breathing deeply. When I didn’t move my hands she took one and shoved it down, between her legs, to that place where she had slid a finger into herself. “Wash me there.” she gasped.

I gave an experimental kind of rub and was astonished when my middle finger slid into a crevice of sorts. Mom moaned again and her knees bent a little as she opened her legs a little.

“Yes.” she panted. “Right there.” I moved my hand, feeling hair and skin and that crevice as one of her hands went to my shoulder and the other went to my chest. She pulled on my shoulder and pushed on my chest. I knew that when she washed my cock that it felt better when she went faster, so I started sliding my hand in and out between her legs. The tip of my middle finger found something deeper inside that crevice and slid into her body, like her own finger had.

“Yes, baby.” she groaned.

Watching her face told me this was something that made her feel very good. Not knowing anything else to do I slid my finger in and out of her and washed her more and more. She stumbled backward, pulling me with her until her back was against what I knew was the cold surface of the tile on the wall. Her eyes closed and she turned her fact up as her mouth gaped open. Suddenly she shook all over and the flesh around my finger got tighter. She let out a long, whining moan that, had I not known was from happiness, I would have thought was from pain.

Something told me to stop rubbing and I froze, my finger still deep in her body. Her eyes opened and I saw something there that was almost scary. It wasn’t that loving deep look she had given me so many times. Her eyes looked almost cat like somehow… intense… like she looked when she was really really mad, only the rest of her face wasn’t her ‘mad’ face.

The hand she had on my chest went up to my other shoulder and she pulled me to her. I wanted to be up against her, but my hand was between us and I pulled it out from between her legs. Her breasts crushed into my chest, soft, yielding but somehow firm too, and her lips came towards mine. I knew she was going to kiss me but I’d never kissed anybody and didn’t know what to do. So I just leaned against her and waited.

When her lips touched mine they moved apart and then together again, almost like she was trying to take a little bite out of my lips. I had this insane thought that she was going to bite me for some reason. Then her tongue forced against my closed lips and I opened my mouth in surprise. She turned her head a little sideways and I felt her tongue go inside my mouth and dart all over. It was so strange. I thought I should be grossed out, but I wasn’t. In fact, something made me want to stick MY tongue into HER mouth. And when I did she crushed me to her with strength I wasn’t aware she had in her light, slim body.

I wish I could tell you more about that kiss, but the fact is I don’t remember much more about it than that. I got kind of light headed and my mind sort of flitted off somewhere else for a minute.

When it came back she had stopped kissing my lips and was kissing my chest… then my stomach… and then she was on her knees in front of me, with the water pouring over both of us… and something hot engulfed my iron hard penis. I looked down.

It was her mouth.

I wish I could tell you more about how her mouth felt on my penis, but the fact is that my mind flitted off to make sure that wherever it went the first time was still there. When it came back I was spurting. Her mouth was sucking then. I felt like my whole insides was shooting out through my prick into her mouth.

Then I fell down.

I know it sounds stupid, but I did. I didn’t trip or anything. I just suddenly fell down. I felt myself going and sort of caught myself with my hands just as my tailbone hit the tile floor. It would have hurt a LOT more if I hadn’t been able to do that. It still hurt a lot.

Mom was all scared and concerned looking and crawled over to make sure I was OK. The feeling of weakness passed and I told her I was OK and she turned off the water and helped me stand up.

“Are you SURE you’re OK?” she asked, dripping and naked beside me.

“Yeah.” I responded. “I think it just felt so good for a second there that I didn’t want to stand up any more.”

She laughed and I felt better. She got a big fluffy towel and dried me off, and then herself. I was watching as she dried herself, and her breasts and everything were so beautiful. I looked down and my prick was standing straight out from my body again. I couldn’t believe it.

Mom looked over at me and that look in her eyes came back. She stood up and said “I’m worried about you.”

“No… really… I’m fine.” I stammered.

“Well I’m still worried. I think you had better sleep in my bed tonight.” she said.

OK, now I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking that a thirty-something woman who just blew her son in the shower wasn’t worried at all, and that he had to be completely stupid not to know what she REALLY meant. But YOU aren’t fourteen, with no experience… well with ALMOST no experience… who just went through something that was still sending aftershocks through you. But I was all those things. And I really didn’t know what she meant.

“OK” I said. “But where are YOU going to sleep if I sleep in your bed?” Remember… I TOLD you I was completely stupid.

She smiled a tight little smile. “The bed’s big enough for two, and I think I need to keep an eye on you. At least for tonight. You know, like they say at the hospital when they make somebody stay overnight for observation? I’m going to put you under observation tonight.”

It sounded reasonable to me and, when she took my hand and led me to her bedroom, I followed. She let go of my hand and turned back the covers.

I said “I’ll go get my PJs.”

She laughed that delightful laugh that sounded like she was SO happy. “In my bed you don’t need PJs.”

So, naked as a jaybird, I crawled into my mother’s bed and, after she turned out the light, naked as another jaybird, she climbed in with me.

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