Swim Team SpiritChapter 24 Semiprivate Lessons
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My Mother's SonChapter 13: Semi-Private Things free porn video
Dear Diary,
I'm feeling very good tonight and very proud of our Charley. We have lots of reasons to be proud of him, he won the club tennis tournament for 15 year-olds, his grades put him on the honor roll and I'm confident that he has not become sexually active at too early an age. There is healthy interest and exploration with 2 or 3 of the pretty little girls he is friends with. Also some petting and perhaps "playing doctor," but that is all healthy. We had one of our Hanging-out Saturdays together and, more with showing than with words, he let me know how far he has gone with girlfriends. I am relieved. I can't stand the thought that he might get one of his friends pregnant and damage his future. Mame, of course, thinks EVERYONE should be having lots of sex with everyone else. She even suggested that she might have sex with Charley herself so that his first time wasn't unpleasant as her own memories of the first time.
Actually, I have to be honest that she said that either she or I should do it. I said nothing. Nevertheless, a chill went down my spine and I wasn't sure it was fear or excitement. I'm still not sure. I won't answer the question for Mame, because if it happened it couldn't be with more love and she would handle it nicely. And next year he will be of legal age in such matters. At least, that is what I am telling myself.
As to the other ... me? Oh dear!! My god! What do I think???? Of course, it is out of the question. I know that. However, a boy and his mother living all these years alone in the same household certainly raises the sex issue. It is hard to avoid the thoughts and feelings, After all, the boy was a baby and suckled your breasts and made you feel more wonderfully loved than any other experience in your life could do. The suckling, no matter when it takes place is a purely sexual feeling and almost all erotic stimulation starts there when dating for example.
The baby becomes the boy; the boy becomes the man; and all three take on the mantle of lover.
Today was the first time that I interrupted Charley while he was masturbating. I felt terrible about it. He thought I was in the shower after our bike ride. Instead, I came down the hall to ask him something or other and barged in at just the moment of his climax. There he was, sprawled back on his bed, legs over the corner toward me. He has black hair on his chest and it streams down a centerline toward his penis. The hair is thick and curly around his penis and balls and his thighs are muscular and hairy too. I can no longer properly refer to it as his "cute little pee-pee" as I did when he was a baby.
His wondrous cock is long and macho like the rest of his body. He had a pair of my panties wrapped around the shaft but there was still visible naked shaft and bulbous crown. It strained upward beyond the hand jacking up and down. I entered just as the first long white stream of cream shot into the air. It must have gone five feet and then splashed down on his hairy chest. Every move is imprinted on my mind, even now. A second shot leapt from the fierce-looking red head and onto his stomach. A third, weaker spurt fell back onto his hand. Then an amount flowed from the slit over the head of his dick and streamed down over penis and hand onto my panties. I tried to close the door and exit, but I couldn't force myself to look away. I'm so sorry. My nipples had gone hard as thimbles and there was a familiar excitement between my legs. Charley opened his eyes and saw me. He was startled but seemed to settle back down with resignation. I apologized and left him in privacy. It occurred to me that he had left his door open. I guess we have become so accustomed to each other that ... well, I don't know.
The scene haunted me that night and I had trouble sleeping. Finally I decided that nothing would bring sleep without an orgasm to take away some of the tension. I think that I woke Charley because I became so very enthusiastic. My fantasy could only be of his youthful, beautiful rigid cock. After I had finished and lay relaxed and close to sleep, Charley came into my room and gave me the tenderest of kisses and a lovely goodnight hug which brought soothing sleep at last. He is wonderful, my Charley.
That led to one of our sex question and answer periods, which I propose from time to time. He doesn't ask much usually. I make a point of answering everything completely honestly. Sometimes our most pointed questions come when we are in the darkroom together. I guess it is easier for him if we are in the dark. Which is fine, I understand!
We seem to have agreed that living together we must accept that both of us will be satisfying sexual needs with our own hands and we don't want to live afraid and hiding from the other. I have agreed. I'm still thinking about what exactly this will mean.
We've decided that intimacies such as masturbation will be "semi-private." Once again, I am not quite sure where that will lead or exactly what it will turn out to mean, "Semi-private." But, I'm okay with it, I think.
Today - Charley:
I put down the diary and lay back to think of that day. I remember it as if it were yesterday. For myself, I was, at that point, terribly conflicted, I guess. I wasn't as sure as I pretended about some parts of the sex scene. I knew that seeing a girl's panties or just thinking of her breasts made my cock cry out for satisfaction. I also knew how very, very good it felt to pleasure myself long and frequently. Still I was unsure of what the ultimate, that is, putting this raging cock into that mysterious, beckoning, imagined paradise of a woman's vagina would feel like. I had not yet really explored one, not really. Every time I came close with an exploring finger or hand, Sally would slap me into next week. But the limited experience of having my hand between a pair of female legs going mad with the sensual feel of silken panties was overwhelming.
My mother, I think was conflicted too. Her intentions to take away some of the mystery and let's face it, the fear of the unknown took us to the brink. However, the final step looked like being on the edge of the Grand Canyon, filling us with awe, but cognizant that the next step was a huge one. And so we continued strolling happily along the edge of our own personal Grand Canyon, beautiful, awe inspiring, and thrilling beyond any other human experience.
One of my fears at that time was the unknowable reaction if, for example, one of the older girls would let me put it in, would I do something stupid that would be painfully embarrassing? The older girls seemed all too happy to contribute to my adolescent discomfiture when I made a social blunder, so It was hard to imagine what would happen if I didn't live up to their expectations at sex. I thought that I was the only one who feared making a fool of himself between the beautiful legs of a girl. Still, I confess that is where I was. A loving mother and loving aunt had brought me along very happily in my sexual orientation. I now know that mine was an incredibly superior introduction than 99 percent of other adolescents.
The thrill of the thought of entering a girl's body for the first time is such that I cowered shivering before the door for a good long time. I was encouraged to ask every question that came to my mind, but still some questions wouldn't leave my tongue no matter how welcome, mom made them. I was nearly sure that she was not going to actually show me how it felt to enter. Still, hope sprang eternal, because her pussy was certainly the one I longed most to feel surround my raging prick. Even today, at age 50, near enough, I am sitting with a partial erection thinking of it.
Here I sit, the page of my mother's diary open and two drawers of her lacy panties and bras rumpled and spilling over the edges of her dresser. The perfect perfume she used hangs in the air and takes me back to those confusing, but wonderful days.
The night of the bicycle ride sprang back into focus. The ride had been rife with secret pleasures. I was stimulated by the sights, sounds, and scents of my dear mother's beautiful body as we rode and then laid on the grassy bank of the Chicopee River. My balls ached with the unrequited need that looking into her blouse at those silky smooth breasts and the curve of her bottom poised over the bike seat.
I heard the shower in her bathroom and lay back on my bed, thinking dreamily of how it had been in the secret little clearing in the woods. I was naked, ready for my own shower. I reached the soft sensuous panties under my pillow. My cock sprang full and hard into my hand. The vision of mom sitting up and taking off her bra was like a movie playing over and over on the inside of my closed eyelids. At that moment, I wanted her more than I had ever wanted anything. I tried to imagine her vagina rather than my own hand surrounding the steel-like shaft of my cock. I could see her breasts swaying. I tried to imagine what her pussy would be like. My hand slowly tried to soothe my aching cock. The "lover's balls" ache was enough that I wasn't sure that cumming would be pleasure or pain, but I continued.
In the background, I still heard the shower running so I had plenty of time to enjoy this. I ran my palm over the moist end of my dick, tasted it with the tip of my tongue and then moistened it further with my tongue before continuing stroking. Relief came quickly. After only a few strokes, the stream of sperm shot wildly upward and arced down on my chest, the second hit my stomach after a somewhat lower arc and the third was simply a gushing white creamy fountain flowing over my hand and down my shaft into the hair around my balls.
I must have opened my eyes slowly, my head turning toward the door. There was my mom, mouth and eyes open wide with surprise. I stopped stroking.
"Don't stop! I'm so sorry! Please ... don't..." she ducked away from the door and hurried away. Leaving me with a vision of her in her bathrobe loosely tied over heaving breasts. The shock stopped me in my tracks, but then I continued. I don't know whether I was pleased that she saw me or the thought of doing it while she was aware of it was exciting, but my cock was soon harder than ever. I stared at the ceiling and felt all the tension leave my exhausted body.
I stood in the shower letting the steaming water blast my body. My eyes were closed and the water was turning me bright red. I was not sure how it would be when I came out and our eyes met. It was the first time I think that I was actually caught while jacking off. Since we had discussed it and it had happened by accident when our bodies were in contact the past couple years, it wasn't something that was a revelation to her. I was sure that she would not make it embarrassing in any way, but still, when you are caught, it kind of sticks in your throat.
I put on my undershorts and a tee shirt and walked toward my room but found mom walking toward me in the hall still in her bathrobe. Her arms were out toward me. She hurried to me and pressed herself close, hugging me fiercely. Against my shirt, she said over and over:
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry! I should have knocked! Please forgive me!"
I reassured her that it was nothing, if you can imagine that. We stood in the hall rocking in each other's arms. I knew she was naked under the robe and my erection returned immediately.
She leaned her head back to look at me, her eyes bright, perhaps with tears.
"But, it was beautiful, Charley. Is it okay if I am glad I didn't knock?"
I was aware that she felt my erection against her stomach, but she didn't move away right away, just stood looking up at me and smiling. She put her head back against my chest and squeezed one more time and then separated.
"I had better get something on and fix supper, hadn't I? What do you feel like?"
I counted to ten or so and then, biting my lip for courage, stepped to her door and barged in just in time to see her in her pretty pink bikini panties and her bra half on with her arms behind her back doing the snap.
"Oh, sorry, I thought you'd be..."
She smiled such an engaging smile that my heart melted all over. It was a knowing and good-natured forgiving smile of a mother. Just as if she had caught me stealing a cookie after being told they were for company.
"I needed... " I couldn't really think of a reason for my bursting into her room. "Mom, I just wanted to see you like this." I confessed.
She continued dressing, leaning toward me as her breasts comfortably nestled in the lacy cups of her bra. She continued looking me in the eye as she adjusted the panties comfortably, running her hand down the leg in the back to make sure that the skimpy panty covered her round cheeks. Impishly, she turned in a pirouette for me.
"And, so you have! Do I pass inspection?" She giggled and reached for a skirt and and pulled it up. Her breasts lifted as she struggled to button the waist. She pulled on a tank top.
"Yes, you do. You look cute."
"We had a good Hanging-out Saturday, didn't we, Charley? I enjoyed the whole day." She slipped her arm around my waist and led me down the stairs.
I think that my open confession of wanting to watch her put on her underwear changed something in our relationship. It made it even better. Maybe it made me open up a little more. I don't know what it signaled in her mind, but she just glowed the rest of the day and evening.
Late that night, I awoke and lay staring into the darkness. The house was silent. Or was it? I held my breath and heard it again. Soft little moans. Tiny, tiny bed sounds. I swung my legs quietly to the floor and slowly stood up, trying to make no sound leaving the bed. I crept down the hall. Mom's door was half open. There was no moon that night and so no light betrayed me as I held my breath and listened before the open door.
Mom was masturbating. I crouched and listened. I strained to find some light in the darkness. I could just see the shadow of her form on the bed now. I could see a little movement and hear the sound of her heavy breathing and from time to time, a little moan escaped her. I couldn't believe my good fortune. My cock was once again jutting hard and straight into my hand. I had the nerve to move into the room, one silent step at a time. She was on her back, her hand between her legs, legs spread. The other hand was on her breast.
I could hear a moist squishing sound, rhythmic, molten in tone. Something creamy and heavy, firmly stirred.
"Ohhh..." she sighed. I could just see the pleasure filled swiveling of her pelvis, moving to the urgent digging of her hand in the dark between her thighs.
"Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh..." Rhythmic, like the sound of my hand on my cock when I jerked off, only different. More feminine. The sound was so softly feminine and yet no less urgent than my own sounds.
I heard her free arm flail against the sheet, back and forth as in a snow angel in winter. It was that kind of flailing against the sheet. I was very tense. I could sense the tension in her body ... ready to release.
A louder moan.
Then a whimper of pleasure.
Her breath short now.
The hand between her legs moving rapidly.
Sounds from her lips short now, short almost like little hiccups.
Faster.
Faster.and then the bed shook with her orgasm and she fell quiet. Her breathing was deep and ragged but slowed into peace.
I had actually been here to hear my mother orgasm. I remained quiet, crouched just inside the door. Spent with emotion. I thought it was beautiful.
Beautiful but lonely.
Very quietly, I crept back to my room and pretended to be up to go to the bathroom. I left the bathroom door slightly ajar and the sound of my stream was loud in the house.
I snapped off the light and paused, listened. Silence. Taking a deep breath, I walked down, not creeping now, to my mother's room. I could see the alarm clock's red glare announcing that it was 3:24AM as I walked in quietly.
"Mom?" I said softly.
"Yes, honey, what's wrong" she said sleepily.
"Forgot to kiss you goodnight."
I leaned over the bed and her arms opened and pulled me down beside her. Only a sheet covered her and I nestled against her.
"Oh, thank you sweetheart, that's what I've been missing, then." she giggled sweetly against my ear."
We lay against each other for awhile, hugging and kissing our love.
"Mmmmm, you don't know how I needed that, just now." she murmured as she nuzzled my neck with her lips.
I felt wonderful. I felt the glow of having found just the right gift to give someone you love. I was astonished at having thought of it. I even told myself it was not a selfish act that I really did it out of love. I suppose it was at least partially true. Besides, you have to take credit when you can.
I now know that I was in fact giving her that loving post-coital cuddling that women voice as the most important part of sex. Anyway, it had been some kind of Hanging-out Saturday, I can tell you! I went back to bed and slept a sound sleep until breakfast smells brought me back to life.
Mom came in and sat on my bed. She touched my shoulder.
"Your breakfast is ready."
I opened my eyes and looked searchingly into hers. Was it okay? She smiled and stretched, arms over her head, her blouse gaping and showing one breast-filled cup of a light blue bra.
"I had a wonderful night!" she said, "how was yours?"
"Nice. Very nice." I said as I sat up.
It was clear to me that the something that had changed was that we weren't hiding our intimate moments as much any more. It was okay if we each happened upon the other masturbating for example. It was natural, and now it was natural enough we didn't necessarily have to hide moments of solitary pleasure. If the sounds of her masturbation loosed an urgent need in me, that would be fine and vice-versa. I shivered at the sexy thought of my mother hearing me jacking off and pretending her fingers were my cock. Is that possible? We each knew that we both did it, now our intimacy would include it. Doors sometimes left open, sometimes not; it was not of consequence either way. We weren't a married couple with the right to fuck together, at least not yet, I added in my mind, but we could share some additional easy liberties.
Mckenna
- 25.03.2022
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