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“What do you mean you missed?”
Mom stared at me with a puzzled frown on her face as I stood there in the bathroom like a dumbstruck lemon trying and failing to explain my first attempt at measuring my spunk.
“Uh, well,” I mumbled as I held up the empty measuring beaker for her to see, “I kind of, what I mean is, I couldn’t aim straight. With my uh, thing. When I was, you know, uh, masturbating.”
Mom blinked and looked at me with her hands on her hips like I had just stepped off the nitwit bus. “How can you miss?” she finally asked as she glanced at the white sink and toilet behind me, “And if you missed where did your,” She paused and closed her eyes for a moment as the thought crossed mind, “Stuff go?”
Go? Where the hell did she think it had gone? Cleaned up with tissue and flushed after I had recovered from squirting what felt like a quart all over the mirror, sink, and floor as I staggered around the bathroom pumping my exploding cock with one hand and trying to hold the five-inch long, three-inch wide plastic beaker in the other to catch my spunk.
Holy shit. There was no way I could squirt into something like that. It was like trying to pat the top of your head and rub your stomach at the same time. Another problem was the strength of my climaxes. Seriously, each one was so intense it felt like someone had whacked me on the head with the happy hammer. I was one step away from passing the fuck out in a dead faint. I had stood there in front of the bathroom mirror with my boxers around my ankles jerking my cock up and down with my right hand whilst holding the beaker in my left.
“Uh uh huh,” I mumbled to myself as I screwed my eyes shut and imagined I was banging that blonde beaver again as I willed my dick to get hard. What was taking it so long? Usually, when my ball ache comes on I’m at full mast and ready to go in no time. I frowned and glanced at the bathroom door. Yeah, that was the problem. Knowing that there was someone on the other side waiting for me to pop the champagne and show her the bubbles when done. Masturbating to order was harder than it looked in every sense of the word.
Rubbing the foreskin over the swollen head of my penis, I took a deep breath and really tried to concentrate. Maybe I should have raided my hidden porn stash for some visual stimulation. But it was too late now. There’s a first time for everything and here I was jerking off in the bathroom as my Mother sat downstairs.
After five or six minutes of red-faced wanking, I finally felt my orgasm ticking over and gritted my teeth as I tried to hold the plastic container still and point my throbbing dong at the open end. With a vigorous final yank of my meat, I climaxed.
And all hell broke loose.
Doing a pretty good impression of a punch-drunk Goofy, everything around me melted away as I did a little rain dance on the spot trying to keep some sense of control as I went for the bullseye. And missed in the most spectacular way imaginable.
The first stream of spunk shot out like a gooey missile and splattered the mirror above the sink. Shit! HOLD THE FUCK STILL, DUDE! But it was no use. I was bouncing around like a Teletubby on crack and the rest of my load decorated the bathroom. With a loud groan of exasperated relief, I collapsed onto the toilet seat breathing hard as my head swam in the clouds. Moments later, I opened my eyes and saw the spunk streaked damage.
This was not going to work. At all.
I was going to need help.
***
After we had got home from the Doctor’s, Mom told me to go into the kitchen and she would make us a quick bite to eat and we would have a “little” chat about our new found situation.
Sat at the kitchen table, Mom and me both kind of fell into an awkward silence as we wondered what the other was thinking. It was the kind of silence between Mom and Son where you know you’re being seen in a whole new light. Like when someone you’ve known for a long ass time suddenly becomes someone completely different even though they’re the same person. I guess Mom was coming to terms with the fact that I wasn’t really her little boy anymore and was all grown up in adult school now. Mom had always been overprotective of me as I grew up and was the kind of woman who would find letting go harder than most especially after her marriage to my Dad had turned for the worst.
She sat opposite me at the kitchen table behind a ham and salad sandwich chewing away thoughtfully as I avoided her gaze and concentrated on the bowl of apples and oranges between us.
“Four or five times,” she said suddenly as she chased a streak of relish around her lips.
I shrugged and nodded. “Sometimes.”
“Now I know why you spend half your time up in your bedroom,” she continued, “I take it that’s where you do it to relieve yourself?”
My heart was leaping around like a jumping bean as I chewed slowly. Here we go. “Mostly,” I replied quietly. Don’t say anything that will piss her off. Once Mom got a bee in her bonnet there was no stopping her. Keep the details brief. On point. The less Mom knew about bahis firmaları my jerk off sessions the better. The only thing that mattered was to get the next two weeks over ASAP so the Doc could see if there was anything wrong with me and sort out my problem.
Mom stopped chewing. “Mostly?” she asked, “Where else do you do it?”
Uh. Definitely do not mention her double bed when she was at work or away at Grandmas. “The shower, I guess. Sometimes I do it in there. When I feel the ache coming on.”
“The ache in your testicles.”
“Yeah.”
Mom dabbed her lips with a napkin. “And doing it helps ease the ache?”
I nodded again and took a bite out of my sandwich. As usual, it was delicious.
“Well then,” she said firmly as she got up from the table and went to wash her hands in the kitchen sink, “It looks like you’re just going to have to do what the Doctor ordered until all this is sorted out,” Mom reached up and ran a hand through her hair shaking her head, “This is all such an inconvenience, young man. I hope you realize this.”
“I do, Mom,” I said quickly, “I really do.”
She turned to face me, drying her hands with the white apron around her waist. “Whenever this urge or ache comes on you need to go upstairs and do what you have to do. Only this time you have to use that plastic beaker to collect your stuff. Once you’re done, bring it downstairs and I’ll fill in that sheet the Doctor gave us.”
My head jerked up and I stared at her like she had lost her mind. What?
Was she serious?
Did she actually expect me to give her the beaker full of my goo? Get the hell out of town with that! It’d be less embarrassing giving it to the Pope!
I shifted awkwardly in my chair. “Um, it’s okay, Mom,” I interrupted as I tried to cut her off at the pass, “I can take the measurement and fill in the sheet. It’s not that hard. Seriously, I can do it.”
“Nonsense,” she said brightly as she took another sip of her coffee, “Not a problem at all. Besides, I know how young men tend to exaggerate such things given half the chance,” She smiled at me behind her cup, “Now, Henry. You just concentrate on doing what you have to do and I’ll take care of the rest. When was your next appointment with Doctor Meadows again?”
It was no use. Once Mom set her mind to something that was it. I slumped in the chair and stared at the ceiling. “Two weeks,” I muttered as I felt the first signs of my ball ache coming on, “The twenty-second,” Two whole fucking weeks. This was going to be pure torture as I winced at the uncomfortable tingling emanating from inside my boxers. Shit. Already? Give me a break. I glanced at Mom wondering if I should say something but to my surprise she had already put two and two together as she watched me wriggling in my chair.
“Time for your first session?” she asked as I noticed a slight flush wash across her cheeks.
No point delaying the inevitable. I looked down at my clasped hands and nodded.
Mom put her coffee down and went to the bench where I had put the white bag. She came back and put the plastic container down in front of me. She didn’t say anything as she watched me get to my feet, pick the beaker up and walk slowly past her towards the stairs like I had been sent to the gallows.
“Bathroom,” said Mom behind me, “Don’t be long.”
Long?
This was going to be the fastest wank in history.
***
“You missed.”
“I missed,” I nodded as I turned as red as a plum, “But it wasn’t my fault. It’s impossible to keep still when I cum,” Mortified, I slammed my gums shut when I realized what I had blurted out in front of my Mom. TO my Mom. I stuck everything into reverse, “Uh, what I mean is, uh, when I um ejaculate,” Alright, dude. Shut the hell up!
Mom didn’t say anything for what felt like an eternity. Suddenly, she reached forward and grabbed the plastic beaker from my hand and held it up between us. Uh oh. This was not good. Not good at all. I knew that look. It was the look Mom usually had when she was concocting a plan. God knows what was going through her mind.
“Uh, maybe,” I stammered as I tried to take the initiative, “Maybe I could do it in something bigger. Like uh, one of those breakfast bowls. The ones we eat cornflakes out of,” The words drifted into silence as the more I said the stupider I sounded.
Mom gave me a look that would make the Hulk think twice. She stared at the plastic beaker and slowly rotated it in front of her face. “Hmmmmm,” she said to herself, “Hmmmm,” Glancing at me, she appeared to take a deep breath and come to some sort of personal decision, “Didn’t the Doctor say only to use the beaker?”
“Uh, yeah. Come to think of it she did,” I nodded as we stood there together in the bathroom. That was true enough, “Don’t use anything else. Make sure as much sperm as possible goes into the beaker as that was the only way to get an exact measurement. Your ejaculate isn’t like soup,” she had said, “Pouring it from one thing to another defeats the whole point of the exercise.”
“I’ll hold it,” said Mom suddenly as kaçak iddaa she turned to me with a straight face.
Huh?
I looked at her like she had lost her marbles. What did she just say? Hold it? Hold what? The beaker? “Uhhhhhhhhhh,” I mumbled still not quite sure I had heard her right, “Excuse me?”
Mom bit her lip. “I said, I will hold this thing while you do what you do,” She waved her right hand in the general direction of my crotch, “You know, masturbate.”
“Don’t be stupid!” I blurted out in shock. What the flying fuck was she talking about? Did she honestly think I was going to toss myself off in front of her? I was her Son for Christ sakes. There was no way I could do that even if I wanted to. How was I supposed to get an erection in front of her? Hell, even the very thought of her seeing my wang and walnuts was enough to give me a bad case of erectile dysfunction.
Mom stepped in front of me. “Henry Peterson,” she said in that I’m not taking any of your shit way she had, “You will do exactly as I tell you, young man. Doctor Meadows has told you what you have to do and if you don’t, I sure as heck will. Now, have your testicles started to ache again since the last time?”
Uh, actually. That was in the affirmative. Game over, man. Game Over.
“No,” I said turning crimson, “Well, yes. Maybe. A little.”
What the hell was all this? It felt like I was in some sort of Twilight fucking Zone. Had Mom lost her mind? Mom’s and Son’s just didn’t do this sort of thing. Well, okay, that isn’t exactly true. I’d seen the odd story on the local TV news in the past, read about it in newspapers or in one of those glossy shit rags going for a buck in a Seven Eleven store. Incest, right? Wasn’t that a Hillbilly sort of thing? I guess, in a way, this wasn’t exactly sex or anything. My head was spinning and I had this weird tingling sensation all over.
Mom went to the shower and took the small white plastic stool out of it. Sitting down, she held up the measuring beaker and looked up at me. “Come on, Henry,” she said matter of factly, “I haven’t got all day so drop your pants and get to it.”
Oh shit.
***
It felt like time had come to a stop as I undid the button on the front of my jeans as I stood there in front of my Mother about to expose myself to her.
Everything seemed to melt away leaving the pair of us in our own little world about to do something very naughty indeed. I stared down at the top of Mom’s head and would never ever forget the way her hair, her partially hidden face, and the rest of her looked to me for as long as I lived. She didn’t say anything but gave a little cough as she waited. It was then I noticed she was wearing one of those plain buttoned up white blouses she liked to wear and I had a bird’s eye view right down the gap from where I could see a distinct valley with her full boobs bulging out as they sat inside her sky blue bra.
Whoa. My Mom’s tits. Tits that belonged to my own Mom. Real live boobs. Right there in front of me. They were mesmerizing. Hypnotic. I swallowed hard. Proper breasts. Juicy Jugs. Fabulous funbags. Bouncy balloons. Massive melons. And so on.
“Hurry up, Henry,” she said suddenly, “I’ve got laundry to do.”
I blinked and came to my senses. “Oh, yeah, okay, sure. Wait until I..”
Slipping my thumbs into my X-Men boxers, I took a loud gulp, closed my eyes in embarrassment and quickly pushed everything due South and stood up straight again holding my Howard the Duck t-shirt under my chin with my left hand as I rubbed the right across my nose and stood there like the prize Christmas turkey on show at the local butchers.
The moment, as it could be said, felt utterly and absolutely surreal.
For the longest minute ever there wasn’t a peep from either of us. I sort of peeked down at her over my bunched shirt wondering what she was thinking right now. My mind was all over the place and I had this odd sensation of wanting her to be impressed with my equipment. From all accounts and various sources, I had an above average sized dick as I remember reading somewhere that if you laid flat on your back naked, pushed your fully erect cock back against your abdomen and if the head reached your belly button that was the sign you were well hung. Well, mine did. Just. So that was something. Of course, that could all be a complete load of bullshit but whatever.
“Well,” said Mom breaking the silence, “You certainly don’t take after your Father.”
Uh. Okay. That’s a good thing, right?
In my head, I wanted to get the whole thing done, finished and over but there was something more to all this. Not sure how to put it. A kind of nervous but excited thrill flushed through me from top to toe as I hesitantly reached down and took hold of my still limp dick.
“Is it okay if I start, Mom?” I asked as I massaged my sausage between the fingers and thumb of my right hand. A seed of doubt crossed my mind as I realized my cock had only grown a couple of inches at most despite the slow back and forth motion as I started to jerk off in front of her.
The kaçak bahis reason was pretty obvious. Opening night stage fright. Woody Woodpecker was having a crisis of confidence and wouldn’t leave his dressing room for the show.
“Is something wrong?” asked Mom.
You could say that. “Uh huh, I guess I’m just nervous about doing it in front of someone for the first time. I mean, you’re my Mom, Mom.”
My Mother looked up at me then back down at the reluctant hot dog hanging down from my grip as I stroked it harder and harder trying to bring it back to life. Her face was slightly flushed as she got to her feet.
“Wait here,” she said with authority. With that, she left the bathroom and went to my bedroom. What was she up to? Whatever it was I hoped it would do the trick and put some pep into my whistle. When she came back, my mouth fell open in surprise and embarrassment.
“Here,” said Mom, “I picked one out of the place you hide them,” She handed me one of my super secret, obviously not well hidden, porn mags at arm’s length like it was a smelly sock.
“Where did you,” I gasped with shame, “How did you…”
Mom looked at me with a sigh. “I’m your Mother. Did you think you could bring those kinds of magazines into the house and I wouldn’t know about them? It’s what teenagers do when they get older and discover girls. Now, hopefully, this will do the trick.” With that, she picked up the measuring beaker again and sat back down.
Wondering which one she had taken, I turned the magazine over and looked at the cover.
“MILF BANGERS: Horny Young Studs Fucking Hot Sexy Older Women!”
Oh. That one.
I looked over the top of the magazine and saw that Mom was watching me as I licked and chewed my lips. I gave her a weak smile like I’d been caught with my hand in the cookie jar. God knows how many times over the past few months I had wanked myself silly over this one. I turned back to the magazine and flicked through the pages to my favorite part. Ah, there she is. Marge. 48. A voluptuous brunette dressed head to toe in sexy black lingerie that made my toes curl in lust. On this particular page, there were several awesome photos; the first had her sucking on some lucky SOB’s long schlong with the last showing him shoving his over large pecker up the tight asshole of said Lady in question. He was so far up her poop chute his balls were pressed right up against either buttcheek. That must feel awesome shoving your cock up a hot ass like that.
“Ahem,” said a voice. Mom held up her right arm and looked at her watch.
Time was ticking. Time to blow a load and ease the ache in my nutsack.
***
“You DEFINITELY don’t take after your Father,” said my Mother watching me masturbate as I began to sway slightly from side to side as I built up a head of steam around my now fully extended rock hard dick.
My right hand had gotten into a nice back and forth rhythm as I pounded my meat with the foreskin of my cock playing peek-a-boo with my engorged dickhead in front of my Mother’s face. She looked remarkably calm as she watched me getting off and there was a small smile on her lips as I huffed and puffed away like a roller skating hippopotamus. The shame and embarrassment had faded to leave me glowing all over with fireworks going off inside my head as I reached for my climax.
In my left hand was the porn mag which flopped all over as I kept looking at MILF Marge taking one up the Khyber Pass for the team. My legs were beginning to feel like jelly as I closed my eyes feeling that special tingle between my asshole and balls.
“Uhhhhhhhh uh uh HUH!” I mumbled as I tried to stay on my feet, hold the porn mag, and stroke out a load all at the same time. There was no way I could keep this coordination going for long when I came.
My right hand was a blur now. The only thing that mattered was dropping the big one. It didn’t matter that my own Mother was watching me do it or that I had to squirt my spunk into that stupid plastic beaker.
The seconds passed. Time became a nonsense. My throbbing cock was the center of the Universe and I was as happy as Larry for I was about to pop big time.
“Going to cum, Mom,” I wheezed as I dropped the mag onto the floor and concentrated on the sensations flowing through me. Fantastic. Amazing. I gave a sudden jerk as my balls contracted in their pouch then let go. I gasped as everything went white around me and all I could feel was the constant throbbing pulse of each copious, thick, musky spasm as the head of my cock exploded in streams of spunk that seemed to be never-ending and an experience that I never wanted to stop.
Somewhere in my delirium, I swear I heard someone say “Oh, my God!” as I slumped back and plopped down onto the toilet seat gasping like a fish out of water.
Minutes that felt like hours passed and I slowly came down from my climax. I opened one eye and gasped out loud. There was Mom with my still reasonably hard cock in her right hand and she was milking the last drops of spunk from the end of my thing which she had jammed into the opening of the measuring beaker. I didn’t say anything but watched her as she made sure she got every single last drop from my tingling balls. Once she was done, she sat back and held the container up to the light.
Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
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