One day, when my son, Luke, was home from college for a two-month break, he and I were sitting in the dining room having a casual mother-son conversation. He asked whether sex is supposed to be painful. I knew he had been having sexual relations with a young lady, and was fine with it. He’s old enough, he’s responsible, and I trust him to make good decisions. It’s me who doesn’t always make the best decisions.
I almost cried when Luke asked about sex being painful. You see I knew from my son’s earliest times that he may have a problem with phimosis. That’s where the foreskin can’t retract fully. It makes keeping the penis clean difficult, and it can cause pain on intercourse. My husband had to be circumcised as an adolescent due to phimosis.
I felt terrible, because on several occasions when doctors advised me to have Luke circumcised, I just couldn’t do it. Especially after my husband told me that when he was cut, it took many painful weeks to heal. I figured at the age of 20, it would be terribly embarrassing, painful, and inconvenient for Luke. You see, I had just hoped it might go away.
In his adolescence, I tried to recommend stretching exercises, but he wasn’t having it. He didn’t even let me finish the conversation the few times I brought it up.
Now, I knew we had a problem. I talked with Luke earnestly right there at the dining room table. I let him know my thoughts about his whole phimosis problem, even that I felt bad for not having him circumcised. He let me know that he was aware of his condition, and even my feelings about it.
“Mom,” he said, “I’m glad you didn’t let that happen to me. I don’t want it now, either. I’ve read of some exercises…”
I didn’t bother to remind him that I already tried to get him to do those exercises years earlier.
He announced he’d start right away, and went upstairs. Presumably, Luke went to his room to get erect and start stretching the foreskin. I know it’s crazy, being his mother and all, but the thought of him doing that up there made me horny. Of course I didn’t do anything about it.
A week later, I asked, “How are the exercises going?”
“Huh? Oh, I forgot all about it.”
Shit. “OK, why don’t you start now?”
“I guess I should.”
A week later, I asked again, and he sheepishly admitted he still hadn’t started. I was surprised how angry that made me. Here he was not enjoying sex, and not doing anything about it. He didn’t want surgery, but that’s exactly where he was headed. Perhaps it was the anger that provoked me to say, “Luke Albert Whitfield, pull your pants down right now.”
He looked like a deer in the headlights. If I wasn’t still angry, I would have laughed.
Thinking more clearly, I commanded, “Well, not here. Come to my bedroom.”
He’s an obedient son, so he followed me to my bedroom. I locked the door so my daughter couldn’t come in, had him strip and lay face up on our big king bed. He was very reluctant. I can’t say as I blame him. I hadn’t seen his little willie since he was in diapers. I was surprised to see how big and hairy it was now. I guess as a mother, one always imagines their children as little boys and girls.
I pulled my dressing chair alongside the bed, and grabbed that penis of his, examining the tight foreskin.
“That tickles,” he giggled.
“Deal with it.”
I was forming a plan of action. I’d do the exercise for him, since he wasn’t doing them himself. I started pulling the foreskin down, but of course nothing was happening with his penis being soft. I knew what to do, and decided I’d have to remain entirely clinical about this. I couldn’t allow the feelings that were boiling up in my lower belly, and you know where.
I got up, went into my office, and returned with a soft little paint brush. I waved it back and forth over his penis, over the frenulum area, until the bristles was just touching his penis. His penis jumped a little bit each time the brush touched it. I knew the effect. This always works very well with Dan, his father, if I want him erect.
Soon enough, my boy was hard. Not quite as big as Dan, but respectable. Very respectable. Actually, it was kind of hard to compare, with that foreskin covering everything up like it was.
My boy was totally embarrassed, but I told him to forget it. I reminded him that I had diapered him. He was like, “Well, you’ve never seen me like this.”
“Oh, you mean erect? Luke, I hate to tell you, but little boys get erections, too. I’ve seen everything. Don’t you worry.”
I went to work, pulling down on the foreskin, holding it for ten seconds, just like the exercises are supposed to be done, then letting go so it can relax for a minute. A couple times I pulled too hard, and he was like, “Ouch, Mom!” but I knew ‘no pain, no gain.’
After ten repetitions we were done. He couldn’t get back into his clothes and out of there fast enough. He disappeared into his room. I’ll bet he jerked off. I know I wanted to do some serious jilling, but I was already late getting dinner ready for Dan and the kids.
The next day at 4pm, I commanded Luke to come back to my bedroom. He anticipated, and walked across the house naked. His sister saw him, but said nothing. I don’t know whether they had communicated about his ‘treatments’ or not.
It didn’t take as long to get him hard. We did the exercises. He stayed hard, and walked back across the house, again in front of his sister in the living room. Was he showing off his naked body and his erection? I didn’t care to think about it.
Next day, same thing, except his sister wasn’t home. He was hard when he arrived in my room.
“Mom,” he said, “These exercises are kind of fun.”
“Don’t you get any crazy ideas.”
“Oh, no, no way, nothing like that!” he assured me evidently as shocked as I was at the thought.
The exercises continued for a couple of weeks. I was proud of my diligence. Seldom in my life have I stuck with anything. That’s why I’m twenty pounds overweight. Diets last about 3 days with me.
On this occasion, as I was on about the eighth stretch, I felt something weird. A kind of pulsing. I knew almost immediately that my boy was ejaculating in my hands.
He groaned, “Oh, Mom!”
I knew from Dan that men don’t like unfinished business. I mean, they hate ruined orgasms, so I did what came so naturally to me. I stroked him as he was cumming, so he could finish his orgasm properly. I immediately regretted it. Had I gone too far?
Feeling guilty, the next day, I told him he had to finish doing the exercises himself. He was in agreement. In fact, he even admitted he had been doing the exercises twice a day. Once with me, and once by himself. “They feel really, really good,” he admitted.
That was a year ago. Those darn exercises really work! He came to me a few days ago, and proudly showed me how far he’s come along. Of course that required an erection, but he had no problem rubbing himself to hardness in front of his own mother.
Five minutes later, I was in my bedroom masturbating myself like crazy, and having the strongest series of orgasms I’ve had in a very long time.