Gender: Male Age: 23 Location: N/A
|Introduction: One of my original stories just with a new title, going to keep it going though I don't know for how many chapters. I'm not a fan of short series when they have momentum, but I also don't believe in continuing a story past it's prime and necessity.|
I don't know if there is any point in my life that I can look back on and say "this is where it all started, this is how I got here" but I do know where best to start this story. At thirteen I was pretty much what all thirteen year old boys were, on the cusp of a sexual awakening, for lack of a better term of course. With all of the growing and the changes it's a wonder how I was able to keep my head on straight, if indeed that was the way it was on. I wasn't completely unaware of sexual feelings, I think everyone whether they know what it means or not has some idea of what sex or sexual acts are, but at thirteen it went from being something that was just out there, to something that was right in my face at home.
To get to where we are I feel I should give you some idea of how I got here in the first place. It's an awkward tale to tell because I don't exactly know much of it. My family is hardly what you would call a family, that is, because there are only two of us, myself and my mother. Don't get me wrong, I have aunts and cousins and grandparents, but as for home life there was just the two of us. My mother had married at eighteen straight out of high school but her marriage was far from what she thought it would be. She had planned to be the stay at home mother while her husband went off to start a promising political career. The problem with that was that a couple of years into the marriage she was still staying at home, but conspicuous by their absence were the children they had so long planned to have. My mother was having major difficulties conceiving a child, and while most young married couples would probably be happy to not deal with the stresses of having to raise children, her husband certainly wasn't. By the time she was twenty-four her husband had divorced her in favor of someone who could give him what he wanted and my mother was forced to move back home and begin her life anew. That all changed for her when only a year later she hooked up with a guy at the college she had started to attend and, quite surprisingly to her, I was conceived. Now according to her, and I'll take her word for it, this said guy (whose name I never asked for and she never offered to give) was none too happy when my mother, who had told this strapping young man that she was unable to conceive, turned up with a belly full of me, and he threatened that if she ever came to him for anything again, he would do everything in his power to ruin her name around the school. My mother thankfully had no wish to have that happen, so she went about her merry little way, dropped out of college in favor of a job to support her unexpected new addition, and again begin a life she had not expected.
Now fast forward back to where we are, we find that as sure as the sky is blue (most of the time anyways) that I was as much a miracle back then as anything. My mother, having tried numerous times over the years, had finally given in to the fact that she would have no more children, however hard she tried, and it was just me and her. Don't get me wrong, there were several men over the years who seemed like promising husbands for her and fathers for me, but in the end (or in this case it'd be the beginning) it was just mother and me, and for all intents and purposes I have no complaints about that. Though my mother gave hints now and again that she wished she had more children and her original husband, she certainly had no love lost for me. Since day one I was her little miracle baby, and she always treated me as such. In a ways I'm almost sad that I wasn't what she wanted from the start, but beggars can't be choosers, and if all it took for me to be her little angel was the fact that she couldn't have any others, then I'm glad it's just me and her, though now I'm going to tell you exactly why that makes it all the more better for me.
So we're back to the beginning of this story. Now I'm sure you're wondering exactly where I am in this story, and that is a good question. In this story, at this very moment, I am sitting at the foot of my mother's bed. More specifically I'm sitting naked at the foot of my mother's bed, staring into her mirror. You see, up until a few moments before the start of this story I was indeed your run of the mill thirteen year old, that is to say as run of the mill as you can be while going through puberty. This day was a normal day up until this point, I'd come home from school to sit down and do my homework like any other day, but this time as I was going up to my room to do my boring homework in my boring room, I took a glance into my mother's room. She hadn't gotten home yet, as during the weekdays I'm usually home an hour before she gets in from work. Now whether I normally look into my mother's room when I pass it I couldn't say, not that I don't have a fair memory or anything, but because every other day there was absolutely no reason to remember such a small thing as turning my head to look in there. This day, however, there was reason to remember looking into her room because of what I saw. I noticed that my mother's bed wasn't made up and walked inside there to make it up. It struck me as odd because my mother was always the type to make up her bed. In fact, she was always the type to make up any bed that wasn't made up. There were plenty of times where I'd get out of bed to take a shower and by the time I got out it'd be made up, as if some little bed making fairy had stopped by to save me the trouble of doing it myself.
As I went to work on making up the bed, I noticed the oddest thing. There was this lingering odor that, though I couldn't quite put my finger on it, was familiar to me. I'd smelled it before in my mother's room, usually when I would pass by her room in the dead of night to go to the bathroom, but it wasn't a smell that I could put a name on. I'd begun to just allow it to pass through my mind, that is until I shook the sheets out and something dropped onto my foot. I looked down at, and to my amazement, I saw two things: a tiny pink vibrator, and a flesh colored cock. Now obviously, it wasn't an actual cock, but one hell of a good replica. Perhaps you find it strange that I would know what a vibrator is, but I don't. In fact, I'd think it strange if any thirteen year old with access to a computer didn't know what a vibrator was, especially a boy. I stood there staring at it for a moment, not because I was stunned motionless, but because it didn't strike me right away what they were doing there. By the time I bent over to investigate I already felt the familiar stirring of arousal in my groan. I starred in silent awe as it dawned on me that these were my mother's toys, and they were in plain view of my eyes. Now while I wasn't so naive to believe that my mother was in no way sexual, it was never really the kind of thing I thought about until this very moment.
I reached down and grabbed for the toy cock first, as it was the thing that was most appealing to me. It wasn't exactly big, no more than six itches and barely thicker than my own cock (which for a thirteen year old isn't saying much) but what caught my eye was how real it looked. The veins were the first thing that popped out to me, as they were thick across the cock and very realistic. Without really thinking I brought it up to my nose and gave a light sniff, and immediately the scent that struck me as the familiar night smell filled my nose. now if my arousal was bad before, it almost instantly tripled in intensity. In the few moments that took me from confusion to shock to realization, it suddenly dawned on me that the smell that I had ignored in the past was the scent of my mother getting off late at night. That's what doubled the intensity, but what tripled it was the realization that the odor, plus the vibrator, plus the toy cock, plus the unmade bed meant that my mother herself was getting off just this very day. I plopped down almost mesmerized in the bed, holding the cock up to my nose still and sniffed it more, whether to relish in the moment or to get a better feel for the scent I do not know. As I sat there with my feet dangling over the side of the bed I accident kicked the nearly forgotten vibrator and almost jumped out of my skin when it turned on. Dropping the toy cock in my false moment of terror, I jumped off the bed and looked around to the door. It took me several seconds to realize that I was still alone, but in that time my cock, rather than grow flaccid due to the shock that went through me, began to tingle and throb.
By this point I was too aroused to contain it, so I reached down and undid the front of my jeans to let my cock have more room. feeling the absence of pressure did me no good as I looked down and sticking out of the top of my boxers I could see the tanned head of my cock glistening pre-cum. I reached down and toyed with the sticky fluid for a moment before bending back over and picking up the toy cock. Hearing the little engine go in the vibrator brought me back to realizing what had caused my shock in the first place and I grabbed for that too. The little toy buzzing like a little bee in my hand gave me the same wondering thoughts I had before, of the fact that mere hours ago this little thing had gotten my mother off, so much so that she didn't bother to put them up and make her bed. Almost absently I brought the little buzzing toy down to my groan and placed it square on the tip of my head. The shock waves it sent through my cock were such that my knees grew weak right away and I plopped thickly onto my mother's messy bed. Holy shit!! was all that ran through my mind as my cock pinned the vibrator between me and the bed and that little buzzing became dull due to my weight covering it. I pressed my groan hard against the little fuck toy and moaned uncontrollably for a moment. If it hadn't been for the unexpectedness of the sensation I might of rode it all the way through an earth-shattering orgasm, but instead I hopped off after a couple of seconds of heaven. I picked the device back up, and quickly turned it off as I tried to catch my breath. Looking down, I could see that the pre-cum that was flowing out of my peehole had gotten onto the vibrator, making it glisten in the light that was shining through my mother's window. I'd tasted my cum several times before, having jerked off regularly for the past several months, so I popped the little toy in my mouth to clean it off. The taste of cum and plastic were expected, but then I tasted a flavor I had never come across before but could only assume it was what my mother tasted like. I don't know if I subconsciously wanted to taste her, or if I simply did it in the spur of the moment, but in any case I liked the taste. So much so that when I had sucked all of the flavor off of the vibrator, I picked up the toy cock and popped that in my mouth too. The flood of unfamiliar taste was as enjoyable this time as it was the first, and I plopped back onto the bed with the toy cock still between my lips, working it itch by itch in so the flavor wouldn't go away too quickly.
This time when I sat I found another surprise as I felt something soft and bundled push against the crack of my butt. At first I ignored it, continuing to push the toy into my mouth until I couldn't take anymore, the last two itches of it still sticking out of my mouth. Finally, after trying and failing to push the rest in without gagging, I let it pop back out of my mouth. I tilted over slightly to pull what was underneath me out and suddenly my fingers were met with a cold but silky fabric. After trying several times I finally pulled it from underneath me and looked down to see a pair of my mothers panties. Now, sitting here with a dildo in one hand and my mother's panties in the other, you might think this was totally planned. Personally I can't say that some part of my subconscious didn't know what I might find when I noticed the scent and saw the messed up bed, but to say it was intentional would be a bit far stretch. but then again, these sorts of things don't just happen, do they? Anyways, regardless of how I got here, I was entirely too turned on to turn back. I fiddled with the panties for a little bit, my excitement as high as it's every been, then did what I knew I was going to do as soon as I saw them and pressed them too against my face. The smell was almost intoxicating, making my head swim lightly as I got another fine example of my mother's sweet scent. I knew without knowing now that whatever had occurred in here earlier it had been spur of the moment. I closed my eyes and could almost imagine my mother getting ready for work and being so turned on she couldn't help but hop back in bed and pull out her toys, strip out of whatever clothes she may have had on, and set to work on frigging herself before realizing what time it was and running off to get ready in a hurry. The thought that my mother, at that time of day, would be so turned on that she just had to stop what she was doing and get off was as much of a turn on as sniffing her panties and flexing her toy repeatedly between my fingers.
It was at this point where I looked over and noticed the mirror. I didn't notice it because it was new, because it wasn't new at all, but what I noticed was the odd position of it. Normally it was always sitting right outside my mothers closet so she could easily check out what she had on without having to go all the way downstairs to the bathroom. But today it was sitting, conspicuous only by it's placement, at the foot of my mothers bed. I sat there, looking back and forth between the mirror and where my mother's pillow was, and in the course of a few seconds put two and two together. My mother hadn't simply jumped in bed to have a little personal romp before work, she consciously moved the mirror in front of the bed so she could watch herself. It wasn't as much a surprise as it was a thrill. This meant that not only did my mother like to get off, but she liked to watch. Or maybe she liked to be watched instead, maybe she was sitting there, with her legs spread open and her little cunt glistening, and was silently wishing that it was someone else whose eyes were staring at her, drinking in the site of her little pale legs splayed as she jerked herself through pleasurable orgasm after orgasm. I'd seen my mother naked before almost as a rule of being the only one in the house to see her, but it was always for a slight moment, when she would be showering and I couldn't hold my pee in I would walk in and us the bathroom, and through the curtains I'd see her body as she washed. So as I sat here I recalled all those memories of her naked or half dressed, trying to piece together a good image of what my mother would look like spread eagle, her little legs stretching from one side of the bed to the other, her small but perky breast poking out over the rest of her body, begging for some attention.
Finally unable to be content with sitting there and squirming around with nothing but my fantasies to please me, I dropped the panties and toy cock onto the bed and kicked my shoes off. Getting up on my knees on my mothers bed, I pulled my jeans and boxers down to where my cock and little ball sack where sticking out. Picking the panties back up, I brushed the fabric lightly over my throbbing member, jerking slightly at the little tickling sensation it sent through me. With my free hand I reached around until I found the little pink vibrator and turned it on, wrapping them in the skimpy little bikini bottoms and placing it back to my cock. The effect was instantaneous as I bent over double on my free hand and knees, humping lightly against the little buzzing bit of fabric. Turning my head on to look in the mirror, I got a pretty good idea of what my mother may have seen earlier, a slim little body squirming around in the heat of passion. At 5'1 and barely 110 pounds my mother was no bigger than me, so by squinting my eyes it wasn't a far stretch to imagine I was her sitting there, toying with myself the same way she would. After a couple of seconds i decided to get even more bold and dropped the vibrator panties back onto the bed as I stood up, with my little developing cock bouncing around, and slid my pants the rest of the way down. I got back down on my knees and pulled my shirt up over my head. To complete the scene I yanked my socks off and sat back to watch myself in the mirror. I was slim like my mother, though I knew at my age I would be much bigger by the time I stopped growing, but right now I was enjoying the similarity in size as it helped me get more into the roll.
Finally we're once again at the beginning of the story, with me sitting here naked in front of the mirror. There was something very liberating about sitting there on my mother's soft bed completely in the nude. I could feel the sheet bundling up under my butt, tickling my little sack every time I made the slightest movement. Looking back down at the vibrator and dildo, I contemplated for a moment what I wanted to do next. Though I didn't have anything in particular in mind, I knew that I hadn't just stripped down for no good reason. I wanted to do something, I just didn't know what it was yet, so I just went back to my fantasies of what I thought my mother might have been doing. I picked the dildo up again and brought it back to my mouth. This time the scent of her pussy was more or less replaced by the smell of my dry saliva, but it was still enough to around me. I looked at the mirror as I laid back and opened my legs. Squinting once more, I drank in the view of my slender legs extending out along the bed. Not having any hair on my legs it was quite easy to pretend it was my own mother there, laying in the same position she was hours ago. Popping the dildo back into my mouth I envisioned my own mother sitting there, squirming with ecstasy as she imagined it was a real cock being shoved into her mouth. I moaned a little, having watched enough porn to know that's what women do (at least for show) when they are aroused. I reached around for the little vibrating panties and after a while found it and brought it up my leg to my crotch. With a little difficulty I managed to turn it on with one hand and again felt that shock of sudden vibration swim over my cock. Even though I'd already felt it twice the thrill still made my legs jerk in excitement. Which was good, as in the mirror it gave me a good idea of how my mother may react when the little vibrator first touches her love button. I moaned more around the realistic looking toy, this time more from reaction than pretending so as to set the mood, and stared at myself in the mirror. I was slightly disappointed as the look wasn't quite complete: I obviously had no breast, and even though my mother's aren't that big, the difference between ours is obvious, her B cups to my no cups. I wanted to fish through my mother's drawer to see if I could find a bra on to set the image right but I thought against it, thinking the less I did to disrupt the order of the room the better. As it stood I doubt my mother would notice if the bed was messier now than when she left, and aside from my clothes and the toys and her panties nothing else had been touched and that's how I planned to keep it. I lifted my legs up slightly and slid the vibrator from the top of my young shaft to the bottom and back again, imagining it was my mother using it to travel along her clit down her wet hole.
Already aroused beyond belief, the little toy nearly made me cum from the combination fantasy and pleasure along, so I released the pressure slightly and just let it sit there on the head of my cock for a moment. Popping the other toy from my mouth, I brought it down to my cock and lightly rubbed it along my balls. The soft yet solid fabirc felt great against my sensitive parts, and looking at the mirror, the image of the head digging into my sack looked almost like it was going inside me. I ran the underside of the cock from my balls down between my legs further until I felt it brush my asshole. Pressing it in a little, the little puckered hole dipped in slightly but if it opened any I couldn't tell as I wasn't at all experienced at things entering it. Bringing the cock back up, I used it to move my balls around slowly, enjoying the feeling of the material complimenting the vibrator that was already making me sensitive beyond belief.
At this point, even with as much as I was trying, I knew the fantasy wasn't enough to sustain. As similar as we may be, I am just not my mother and squinting wasn't exactly helping so I laid my head back and pressed the vibrator wrapped in the little silk panties tightly against my cock and humped back against it. Not quite feeling it was enough, I dropped the dildo down onto the bed and used my hand to stand my cock up straight, wiggling it around before grabbing it stiff in my hand. With the other hand I held the vibrator tight against my cock and began humping into the air, the little tight hole made with my fist along with the vibrator creating some very new feelings that both drove me crazy and threw me over the edge all at the same time. Before I was even aware of myself little spurts of hot cum shot out of my cock and into my tightly wrapped fist. Though I was too young to cum all that much the feeling lasted way longer than the actual cum flooding out and I spent about a minute moaning loudly and humping into my fist until the very last ripple went through my body!
I sat there for several moments after my orgasm trying to catch my breath. Though I had masturbated probably a hundred times since I first discovered the art, the combination of arousal, excitement and unexpectedness of the situation certainly made this one a milstone in my cock beating career. It was quite a while that I was sitting there before my surroundings came back to me and I jumped up like a bat out of hell. Now perhaps my predicament isn't the first in the history of mankind, but it was obviouly the first time for me. I was sitting on my mother's bed, stark naked, with her panties coated in my cum. Now while it definitely dawned on me while I was doing it that it wasn't a good idea, the thought of cumming on my mother's panties was just too good to pass up. But that was then. Now, sitting here well spent and back in my right state of mind it was a very, very, bad idea. Turning the vibrator part off I dropped the panties on the floor and quickly went to the business of finding and restoring my clothes to my body. How could I have been so stupid? It doesn't always take my mother a full hour to get home and here I was with cummed on panties I need to clean, and on top of that the bed was now much more noticably shaggy than when I had come in that mom had to know she didn't leave it like this.
Taking a moment to compose myself, I got all of my clothes back on then went about the business of making my mother's bed less messy without actually fixing it up. After I straightened it a little and put it more or less in the same state of unrest that my mother had left it, I picked the panties back up, shook the vibrator off on to the bed and rushed off to the bathroom. Zooming down the stairs a feeling of genuine dread started to creep into me. My mother had to be due home any minute, and while the bed may be somewhat presentable to her memory of how it was when she left, I know for a fact the first thing she would do is go into her room and make it up. And what, pray tell, would she do when she picked her panties up and realized they are wet? Whether it's my cum or the water from cleaning it, there is no way she would assume it was her that left them that wet, both because it had been hours since she had left and because she took them off probably to avoid getting them that wet in the first place. But if it was between leaving them there with my cum or leaving them there wet with water, I'd take the water any day of the week. I was in too much of a rush to think of a good excuse as to why they were wet, but there was no explaining the cum at all. Well, there was, but that was an explanation I sure didn't want to give.
Bursting into the bathroom, I went straight for the sink and began washing the cum off, racking my brains for excuses for why the panties were wet. Maybe I spilled something on them? No, then she'd ask why I was in her room in the first place, and I know she'd assume if I was close enough to spill something that I saw the vibrator and dildo too, and that'd make things real awkward. Maybe I can tell her I saw the bed was messed up and figured she wanted to wash the sheets and cover and take them downstairs. Then I can pretend I wrapped the toys in the blanket without noticing them and put them in with the wash. But then that might mess the vibrator up, and I don't want her upset with me for ruining her toys. By the time I finished washing them I still hadn't come up with a good idea. Just as I thought maybe I could use her blow dryer to get them dry before she got home I heard her car door close outside. Breaking into the quickest run of my life I sped out the open door of the bathroom, past the kitchen, and up the stairs before I knew my mother even reached the front door. I went right into her room, dropped the panties in a hopefully unassuming place within the covers and turned off down to my room before the front door even opened.
I didn't want to close the door to my room to draw attention to myself so I just sat down in the little loveseat that was off to the side of my room and picked up a book. I don't think I have to say reading was the last thing on my mind, but it was all I could do to stop from freaking out. I finally heard my mother come through the door. I sat there, book open in my hand staring at my doorway, just waiting for the moment she'd come through holding the panties and asking what I'd done. I listened closely to her light footsteps as she came up the stairs. Normally she comes right into my room to check on me, but I had a feeling that, walking past her room as I did earlier, she might realize the mess and go straight to making it. Sure enough I heard my mother turn off into her room and drop her purse on the nightstand. I couldn't help myself and closed my eyes tightly, hoping not being able to see may give me more strength but knowing it wouldn't. I sat there for about 10 seconds listening before the object of my dread finally found a voice.
"Josh?" my mother's voice called down the hall. I knew to expect it, but still the sound of it made me flinch a little. I didn't even realize there was no anger, or any like minded emotion, in her voice.
"Come here hun."
I hung my head a little and, on the wobbliest legs in the world, wandered my way down the hallway and down to her room. I knew this was the end but when I turned into her room I looked up at her, feeling that looking guilty was the worst thing I can do at the moment. My last glimmer of hope was simply to explain what I had done and pray that my being at the age of sexual curiosity would somehow save me. She had never beaten me, not more than a few stern taps a few times when I was younger to let me know I'd done something that was unexpected to her, but being beaten wasn't what I was afraid of. I didn't want mom to think of or treat me differently and I knew after this that is what would happen. I looked right up into her face, expecting to see her with some kind of disappointment on her face. To my surprise, but not my relief, she didn't appear to be upset in any way.
"You were in here earlier?"
"I saw the bed was messed up, I was going to make it up." I said, a little quieter than before, expecting her to ask me what else. Instead she looked around at the bed with a look of (could it be?) apprehension.
"It's not made." she said matter of factly. I blinked at the bed for a moment before literally deflating. She looked back at me, and this time I was sure she was a little hesitant. At this point I just knew she knew why I hadn't made the bed.
"I had to use the bathroom, forgot to do it when I came back up." I said, the first thing that came to my mind. I was fully intent on telling her the truth, but I guess natural instinct told me not to until I had no choice.
"Oh. Well, you left your bookbag in here." she said, pointing at it sitting in front of her nightstand. I could have smacked myself silly for that little detail.
"You want to make it up for me now then?" she said, totally throwing me off guard. I looked at her for a moment before just nodding and moving over to the bed. I pulled the sheets back , not wanting to look down at the bed as I already knew what I would find. I heard my mother move behind me and looked around to see she had stepped out of the room. I heard her footsteps go downstairs and cocked my head in complete bewilderment. Did she want me to find her toys and underwear? No way, my mother was the most unassuming person in the world. I would never assume she was a saint, but wanting her son to find her fuck toys and used panties isn't something she, or most sane mothers, would want.
I went back to the business of fixing the bed, trying to wrap my head around what was going on, when I realized it; they were gone. I shook the sheets out, seeing if I would hear the little thud of them falling like the first time but nothing. I looked next to the bed. On the other side of the bed. Got down on my knees to look under the bed. The vibrator was gone. The dildo was gone. The panties were...they were there! Sitting there clumped up exactly where I had left them.
YES!!! oh sweet God in heaven!! My mother must have gone straight for the toys when she saw my bookbag and forgot the panties were there. Hell, she probably could have cared less whether I saw them, I take her laundry downstairs for her and see her underwear all the time. I stood there, my face bursting out with relief as I made the bed up. I honestly couldn't have imagined a minute ago still being alive (what can I say, what would you think if it was you?) and come to find I had nothing to worry about in the first place. I almost felt a little guilty, not that I wanted to get caught or anything, but it was my own stupid fault that I got cum all over the panties in the first place, just to get away with it felt like I was cheating the opportunity for me to learn a lesson about doing stupid things like that in the first place.
But, as most life stories tell you, what lessons you don't learn, or don't want to learn come back to bite you in the ass later. If only I could have learned my lesson that day...
To be continued....
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