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My cellphone beeped an incoming text from my mother.
“I can’t pick you up I’m taking your sister to the doctor,” it said.
I was stuck at school – detention, for blowing off a class three days earlier. I looked outside the small rectangular window in the door to see curtains of nearly horizontal rain. Twigs and bits of trash were thrown around by the strong November winds. Walking the three miles home would be a bitch. Mom insisted I take a rain coat and warmer clothes.
I blew off her advice.
“Do you think you can pick me up after?” I texted back.
“It won’t be till late,” she replied.
I tried a guilt trip.
“The weather outside is awful. I’ll get soaked and be freezing”.
“Then wait for us.”
She didn’t bite – Fuck.
“On a plane to Dallas. Business trip.”
Dammit I forgot about that.
“WALK OR WAIT. Those are your choices. Next time don’t play hooky.”
I sighed. I was really screwed. I already tried several friends and mom was my last resort. I glanced outside again at that shit weather. Turning up the collar on my flimsy denim jacket, I pushed hard on the door. It fought me, the wind almost slamming the door shut. I pushed again and launched myself into a maelstrom of pelting rain and freezing wind.
I keyed the code to our garage door with shivering hands. They were shaking so badly I fucked up the sequence three times. The hour long walk had taken its toll. I was soaked head to toe, my shoes now making squishing noises when I stepped. I had developed a furious urge to piss about half way home, and now it felt like my bladder was near the breaking point.
I ducked under the door as soon as there was enough clearance. I ran inside, closing the door behind me. I didn’t have time to even acknowledge the blissful warmth, as my body had other pressing concerns. I ran to the bathroom just outside the mud room, then cursed as I saw a box of tissues on top of the toilet seat – my mother’s reminder it wasn’t to be used.
Some kind of plumbing issues, don’t ask.
Nearly panicked, I raced to the toilet in the master bedroom. My parent’s asked my sister and I to use our upstairs bathroom, but this was a dire emergency. Even as I made the last few steps into the bedroom I began to feel my bladder give way, releasing some of its contents uncontrollably.
“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” I yelled as I frantically tried to undo my zipper.
My hands just would not cooperate, and for whatever reason the zipper was now as complex to my fingers as a damn Rubik’s cube. I kicked something sharp on the floor and winced in pain. I stumbled. I flung open the toilet seat violently and finally reached down to grab my penis – only I couldn’t get it.
The ice cold state of my body had reduced my pecker to something practically the size of a walnut. It almost seemed to be collapsing in on itself, the head seeming to vanish into the folds of the lower half of my cock.
When I finally got it, a stream violently blasted out and hit the back of the toilet seat. I pushed down hard and fought back the stream, my body wailing in protest as I did so. I adjusted my grip, re-aimed and … shot piss all over the top of the toilet. Cursing loudly, I made the proper adjustments to my strange, cold-induced member and finally managed to hit the water, the stream so hard water splashed up out of the bowl.
As I was finally calming down my bladder I took a moment to consider how ridiculous my situation had become. Here I was, a senior in high-school, and I find myself in goddamn detention like some eighth grader. I have to take the bus with all the other freshmen because my car is in the shop, and now I’m walking home, pissing in my pants, and making a mess all over the bathroom.
Well, the parents had trashed it anyway. The mirror needed to be wiped down, the floor was covered in towels and dirty clothes. The countertops had all manner of makeup stuff from my mom, razors and whatnot from Dad.
About the only clean thing in the whole room was one of those electronic picture frames, showing a sparkling image of mom and dad on a cruise. They had goofy smiles on their faces and they were holding up fruity looking drinks to the camera. If they weren’t so uppity I would have sworn they were actually drunk.
But the thought of my uber-conservative parents actually cutting loose and having drinks, let alone enough to be tipsy, well that was just ridiculous. They were the ultimate church-going, card-carrying-members-of-the-PTA suburbanites who I doubt escort ataşehir stayed up past ten even on the recent cruise they went on.
Just then, a deafening crash of thunder rolled through the house.
A second later, the lights went out.
“Oh for fuck’s sake!” I yelled out loud.
I pinched off my stream, which fortunately wasn’t as painful this time given that I had been able to relieve some of the pressure earlier. I was about to zip up and look for a flashlight when suddenly the picture frame on the countertop came to life again. The power loss must have caused it to fall into some kind of battery mode operation.
The picture had also changed.
My mother was sitting at a banquet table. She was turned towards the camera, leaning back slightly. One of her legs was kicked up high in the air, displaying a rather impressive amount of flexibility in what was clearly meant to be a playful, pinup-style pose. She was wearing a stylish dress that had a side slit that was riding up her legs, showing a fair amount of thigh. Her legs seemed to sparkle from the shiny and smooth set of suntan colored hose she had. Her heels were elegant – a set of black high heeled sandals – the kind I would normally expect to see on some celebrity walking down the red carpet at the Oscars.
Never, never in a million years would I have EVER pictured mom wearing something like that, let alone striking a pose and showing off leg. Granted, the picture was fairly innocent, hell the cover of fashion magazines often had things more revealing … but this was MOM. MY mom…
My balls felt heavy, and under the dim light from the picture I saw my strange, shrunken walnut penis begin to unravel itself in a curious sensation.
“Oh hell no! Hell no there is no way in SHIT this picture is making me hard. This is my fucking mom, for fuck’s sake, this would be GROSS!”
It must be the warmth, that’s it. The warmth from the house is undoing the weird shrinkage I’m having.
Almost as a dare to myself, to convince myself that was the case, I kept looking at the picture.
She was holding the one leg that was up by her ankle, pulling it up towards her head in a dancer -like fashion. Her toes were pointed perfectly. They crunched up underneath the criss-crossing straps of her shoes, and her arch was beautifully pronounced, showing a lovely curve and a slight wrinkle from the effort she was putting in.
My cock wasn’t stopping. To the contrary, its growth seemed to be accelerating.
“The fuck is WRONG with you dude!? Your fucking MOM!” A voice in my head yelled.
“I’m not! I’m not!”
I then began to feel the telltale signs of anxiety. My brow felt sweaty, and my heart was racing. My cock was swelling in my hand uncontrollably. Unfurling, growing.
Then I noticed another detail about the picture, one that I had somehow missed from before: The expression on my mother’s face. She was staring into the camera with a teasing look: her head just slightly cocked to the side and her lips pursed in almost a look of contempt.
I knew that expression: It was a look I got when I said something my mom knew was bullshit, or when I thought something that my mother fully understood was not the case, and she was then going to have some amusement at my expense. It was the look that said “Oh, is that what you think is going on? OK, sure, you believe that then”
It was a look I had been given dozens of times: being called out, getting busted for something trivial, my mother teasing me. Only now, my imagination was using it to fuck with me.
“Ben, be honest, you’re getting an erection, aren’t you?”, her playful smirk in the picture now tormented me.
“Eeeww! Ben you are fucking GROSS!” I heard my sister’s voice yell at me in my head.
“Fuck off Michelle, I’m not!”
My heart raced even faster. I could hear my pulse in my head, and feel it twitching my cock. It unfurled completely, growing faster than I had ever seen it grow before. There was no denying it, my dick was responding to my mom’s picture.
My imagination continued to play with me, and I suddenly heard a crowd of voices – nameless, faceless figures from the shadows, gasping in disgust, and shouting out random sounds of disapproval. It was though I was the center of attention at some strange party, and my mother was proving to me, and to everyone else what a fucking pervert I was.
I could of walked away. At any moment, I could have zipped up, left the bathroom, and tried to forget about the whole ordeal. But I didn’t. To do so would kadıköy escort be to … surrender somehow. To admit guilt. No. This was a test. My mother had thrown down the gauntlet and I had to make my dick stop on my own. There was no way some damn soccer mom, let alone MY mom was going to make me all riled up.
I forced myself to keep looking at the picture.
My mother’s blonde hair was cut into a typical housewife, short bowl-like style. But her lips were bright, and glistened with sexy pink hue. Her blue eyes, normally unadorned with anything, were now accented with a gorgeous application of mascara.
The head of my cock was expanding…
“Ben, your penis appears to be getting very large. Can you relax? Try and relax…” she said in mocking tones.
No dirty words. She talked calmly, almost professionally, like a counselor. But her calm demeanor, mixed with her playful, flirting gaze was tearing me up. It was a battle of wills, between mom and me, and I was losing.
“Ben you are fucking sick! Look at how huge you’re getting!!” my sister yelled from somewhere in the darkness.
The head was puffing out, expanding like some goddamn balloon being blown up with compressed air. Then, it started to curve upward. Growing, growing, expanding. Never had getting a boner produced such wild sensations. Each time it twitched in expansion, I could feel a terrible growing anxiety, the kind of icy veins, cold sweat sensation you feel when you know you’re about to be busted, when your cover is about to blown.
I was fucking panting. Me! Panting like the way those open-mouthed Warcraft-playing losers in gym class did when they fumbled madly for a basketball and tripped over themselves. Panting over a damn picture of my mom which was tamer than most of the shit I’d looked at over the Internet.
And yet here I was, fucking throbbing. I then realized that I was pressing down on my cock, trying to somehow conceal the fact it was arching toward the sky like a rocket ship.
“He’s quite at attention now isn’t he?” she mocked. The crowd bellowed in shaming words.
It then began to HURT. My head puffed out, turning purple and taking on a glass-like sheen.
“Oh my. Ben are you sure you’re OK sweetie? Hmm?” She said, and I imagined her pulling that leg of hers higher, her muscles stretching, years of pilates and yoga now showing what they were capable of.
I wasn’t just getting hard … I was … was getting BIGGER. As in actually becoming longer, thicker. I know that doesn’t sound possible, but I swear it was happening. I was getting a bigger cock before my eyes.
“Jesus…” I panted outloud. OUTLOUD! I actually said that in real-life. My cock slipped in my hands they were so sweaty. It sprang out, instantly rocketing up towards my belly.
A few voices in the crowd now cheered sarcastically, joining my mom in her teasing.
“Mmmm, good boy! That’s it. That’s it.”
Fuck, fuck, it HURT. It was gigantic. I don’t think my dick was ever that huge. I pressed it down again and it lurched up against me, fighting my desire to point it down. It lurched up again, and again, convulsing of it’s own accord.
What … the … fuck …
Oh no, this can’t be happening!
“Mom, please…” I pleaded.
“C’mon now. Don’t stop. Be a good boy for me. You can do it. You can do it.”
My cock lurched again, and again. I could feel the tell-tale build-up of pleasure.
“This can’t be! It can’t! I didn’t stroke it! I didn’t rub it! I didn’t do anything!”
“Ben don’t lie … Ben, c’mon…”
“I didn’t do anything Mom!”
“Mom!! I didn’t do anything!!”
“Get ready.” She cooed in soothing tones.
The lurching increased its pace. Pleasure built, and built.
“Oh my God! Oh my God!! OH MY GOD!!” my sister screamed in revulsion.
“Ben, just relax. Let it happen…” her toes pointed harder, crunching, shaping that beautiful arch for me.
The lurching stopped. The head of my cock expanded obscenely – puffing out, practically becoming the size and color of a damn plum.
She smiled, big broad lips, shiny, perfect teeth. I was busted.
“Do it.” she said calmly.
The lurching started again in massive jolts. Waves of pleasure rolled through me. My heart pounded.
“Oh no! Oh NOO!!” I yelled.
A thick, solid stream of semen BLASTED out of the head, splattering against the mirror with an audible THWACK! I gasped outloud. I … I … couldn’t believe it. I hadn’t even stroked it or anything! I knew it felt good, maltepe escort bayan but I didn’t think you could cum without going at it for at least a bit. A second, more powerful stream shot out. It hit the mirror so hard large blobs of seed splashed back, soaking the sink.
“Good boy! Goood boooyyy!” My mom cooed in gentle, soothing tones. The crowd had turned into a lynch mob, howling in disgust. If the situation were real and I heard the noises they made I would have genuinely feared for my safety.
It felt sooo good. But each wave of pleasure filled me with guilt. Each blast of semen left me feeling dazed and shocked.
The head puffed out again, huge, impossibly big, practically cartoonish.
A third, long arc of white roped out, seeming in slow motion. The arc splashed against the mirror the same way my piss had moments earlier against the water in the toilet bowl. The arc grew higher, stretching upwards. It wouldn’t stop! I arched up on my toes reflexively and watched in horror as the arc became a straight, solid stream going up and … HIT THE DAMN CEILING.
Mom raised her eyebrows. She was impressed. Impressed! Her lips broke into a coy smile, showing that annoying “I told you so” expression of hers.
“My goodness Ben!”
I sprayed again. Aiming lower, I shot all over mom’s make up stuff. Christ, I fucking doused it. That will take forever to clean. Another stray blast coated her toothbrush, and I felt a sickly feeling of arousal from doing so.
“Ben, c’mon you can’t stop it now. Don’t fight it…”
“That’s it, let the release happen.”
“Mmmm hmmm, so strong…”
A few more weaker streams came out, and then it was over.
I stood for several moments trying not to move. My hands were trembling.
Then, as if on cue, the lights came back on, revealing the true scope of the devastation I had caused. There was fucking cum everywhere, along with a potent smell of bleach. The mess stretched from all of my mom’s makeup on the counter to a large blob of it hanging off the damn ceiling. The CEILING!
The spunk was starting to run down the mirror in thick, white strands.
“Did you enjoy yourself?”
“No, I didn’t.”
She smiled, then fell into that weird smirk.
The mirror never lies. She said.
I felt ill.
I had just blown a load … for MY MOM.
What kind of sick fuck was I?
I had been all over the Internet, jerked off to tons of porn. I had fantasized about lots of girls at school, and yet none of that even came CLOSE to what just happened in the bathroom. It seemed so … stupid! I mean … the picture in there was NOTHING!
I mean yeah, her legs looked good … ok, more than good. Fuck her legs were hot in those heel-
Point is the in the porn I watched girls were practically gagging on cock, taking it in the ass … all manner of sexual exploits and yet all mom seemed to do was flash some leg. Hell, there wasn’t even dirty talk in the … dream or whatever it was. She talked to me like some damn guidance counselor or therapist.
I didn’t get it.
I had seen videos on the net of some guy named Peter North – porn star big back in the 80’s and 90’s who had a reputation for these tsunami-sized cumshots. I had to admit when I first saw a few of them I thought they were fake.
And now here I was doing something an hour ago that would have made that dude bow his head in shame.
“By your mom!” that angry voice said.
If I … If I ever, EVER admitted this to anyone I would be a laughing stock.
Blew my load for my own mom … some damn PTA, church-going, stay-at-home housewife no less – the ultimate example of the stuck-up, rich, self-important…
The mess had taken forever to clean.
I had gone through a roll and a half of paper towels. I put them in a separate garbage bag which I took out to one of our cans in the garage. The mirror was now suspiciously clean in the bathroom. I cleaned my mom’s toothbrush the best I could but…
God, I didn’t want to think about it.
The rain beat down on the quiet house, and I shuddered as the noise of the rain reminded me of the splashing sounds of my seed spraying against the mirror.
I went to go piss later, and found to my horror that something was up with my dick.
It was … puffy, as though some parts of it had cotton swabs stuck under the skin. What the fuck was this? It was gross. I finished and put my dick away. I prayed to myself that it was just some temporary thing that would go away on its own. I feared I had released some terrible inner demon, and like a Pandora’s Box, it wasn’t something I was ever going to be able to put back.
I heard the sound of the garage opening. Mom and sister were home.
Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
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