Many thanks to Paul4play for inspiring me to write this story!
And as always, my gratitude to NewOldGuy77 for being a wonderful editor and beta reader.
~~~~~
I eyed the tall, chunky, teenager plucking a bass guitar in my basement. I still couldn't get out of my mind what my son, Ethan, had told me about his friend.
"Why do you all still call Jim 'Junior'?" I had wanted to know, "He's not short or thin anymore. He's rather Jumbo-sized now."
My son had blushed red and stammered, "His nickname refers to another part of his anatomy."
I'd frowned as the implication sunk in, "You mean his johnson?" I'd asked, using the most inoffensive euphemism for dick that I could think of.
Ethan nodded.
"Well, that seems mean. An even better reason to stop calling him that name," I'd replied, feeling defensive of the eighteen-year-old.
"That's not how it works, Mom. If he changes his name, it's like he's admitting it bothers him, which is as much as admitting it's true. He can't do that."
It seemed like strange male logic to me, but I'd just shrugged. Not for the first time, I wished I'd had a male co-parent who could tell me if this was a normal sort of thing for boys, or if it was something I should talk more about. But Ethan's father had left me long before Ethan was born, and it'd been just us ever since.
Being a single mother had been a struggle, even if I had been 29 and established in my career. I didn't live close to family, and hadn't made many new friends in my area, so I really was on my own. I'd sacrificed dating, among other things, to be a mother. Masturbation could only do so much, which might be why I was fixated on the size of my son's friend's cock.
Not just friend, but band mate. There were five young men in my basement now, playing music together and trying to produce as many songs as they could in the three months between high school and college. Ethan 'Sticks' played the drums, Jim 'Junior' played the bass, and there was Gerry 'Gerbil' on keyboard, Hunter (the only one without a nickname) on guitar, and Tristan 'Nos' (like the energy drink) was the lead singer.
Of the five of them, Junior was the biggest. He towered over my 5' height at 6'3" tall. And as he'd maxxed out his height in the last year, he'd packed weight onto his previously skeletal body. Now filled out with a light padding of fat, his face was adorably rounded.
Junior looked up and caught me staring at him. Before I looked away, I couldn't help but notice the cute flush of red that warmed his cheeks. My eyes landed on my son, who was watching me with a slight frown. And now it was my turn to flush.
I quickly focused on finishing up moving the laundry from the washer to the dryer and putting in a new load. Since the band was practicing nearly all day every day this summer, we'd had to compromise on when I could do laundry: only during practice days and not when they were trying to record something.
Finishing up my chore, I grabbed the basket of clean clothes and headed back upstairs. Two hours later, I went back to put the next load in the dryer, but I hesitated out of sight when I heard Ethan's raised voice.
"Ugh, do you have to talk about my mom like that?"
I froze. I knew I should go and come back in 10 minutes, but I wanted to know what they were saying about me.
"Well, it's true Sticks," I heard Junior's voice, "your mom is a MILF."
"Too bad for you, a BBW like her needs a big cock to be satisfied," Gerbil taunted Junior.
"Fuck you," Junior commented, but the invective sounded weak and uncertain.
"Better a small cock than an overgrown dick like you, Gerbil," I said loudly, walking into the room.
I probably shouldn't have done it, but I always found Gerbil kind of irritating. The room went quiet as all the boys stared at me, red-faced.
"Ewww, Mom!" Ethan broke the awkward silence.
"Well, it's true. And Gerbil, you should apologize to Junior. That was a very mean thing to say." I fumed, all my overprotective mom instincts in full gear, bulldozing over common sense and tact.
"Sorry, Junior." Gerbil said obediently, proving that he was still enough of a boy to listen to a mom, even if I wasn't
his
mom.
"It's fine," Junior mumbled, looking at the ground.
The room fell quiet again as I attended to the laundry, then a deep thrum of the bass started as Junior started playing. The melody sounded familiar, but I couldn't place it until the rest of the band started playing, and then Nos belted out the vocals.
"
Fat-bottomed girls you make the rocking world go round
!"
I laughed, and the uncomfortable mood was forgotten as the boys played.
That evening, when the band all packed up to go home for the night, Junior lagged behind the group. He shared a glance with Ethan, who shrugged, then went upstairs leaving Junior and I alone in the kitchen.
"Is it true, what you said, Ms. Charles?"
I knew exactly what he was referring to, "Absolutely, Junior. Sex isn't just about penetration, you know. And there are plenty of ways to arouse a woman, small penis or not."
Junior nodded and looked down at the floor as he mumbled something so quietly that I couldn't hear it.
"I'm sorry, I couldn't hear that?" I asked.
"Never mind," Junior turned to go, looking dejected.
My clit fluttered, unreasonably attracted to this man-child.
"Wait," I put a hand on Junior's arm.