Castillo. Day five. Saturday.
Erotic dreams.
For the first time in a long time, I wake up to erotic dreams. They're quite confused and very wispy, unsubstantial. I smell and taste sex, and I feel my manhood throbbing, confined in warm places, eager for satisfaction.
A trembling wakes me; I open my eyes to the dim light filtering from the window. My eyes wander to between my legs. Under the covers, I see a bulge - more importantly, I feel it between my legs. My hand slides under the covers and I caress my shaft lightly. The sensation is more than pleasant. I stare absent-mindedly at my computer, thinking of the stash of naked women pictures my dad left me; this feels like a good occasion to use them.
However, even before I rise, a noise reaches my ears, something like a sweet moan. It takes me a moment to identify its origin: it's coming from my sisters' room. A hand on my cock, I listen in. It's a gentle hum, something quiet. I listen further but catch no other sounds.
Hesitation grips me as to what to do next. The easiest route is to stay in bed and tease myself to those moans, whatever they may be. I also could go to the computer and jerk off to my personal porn heritage collection. But my mind is going elsewhere - back to Thursday late morning, in my older sisters' bed, with both of my sisters by my side, in bikinis.
I remember what they told me then.
It's tempting to get up and walk over to their room. I can see myself peeking in, finding them asleep, entering discreetly. Heather will be in her pajamas - maybe her top will be open, and I'll be able to get a view between her breasts. Maybe a nipple will show. Or it could be Stacey, always sleeping in her underwear; maybe the covers will be off her behind and I can see her sweet ass, hanging out. I'd just need to rub one out as I stare. At either, or both.
Except it's too risky. I can now hear mom - at least, I think it's her in the hall. If she caught me, there'd be no end to it. She's gone through enough.
The wisest course of action is in isolation, but I don't necessarily need to remain in my room for that. I finally rise, grab my bathrobe, then my phone. Without haste, I make my way to the upstairs bathroom. I decide, for a bit of daring, not to lock the door behind me. I strip and then start running the water, but I don't get in yet. I take a moment to peruse the collection of naked and erotic pictures my dad left me. There's just so many. Hundreds of girls my dad has most probably slept with. A few of them I've slept with too, like Dolores (mom's best friend) or Pauline (our next-door neighbor). Because these pictures range from about 15 years ago to probably recent weeks, it's hard to tell when they were taken or who some of these women are. I do recognize a few, however.
As I scroll through the image, one such face stirs my recollection, taking me back not only to many years ago, but to a few days ago - Mrs. Welsh, one of my home room elementary teachers. She was one of the first people outside of my immediate circle who flirted with me, on the street, last Tuesday, not long after I put the ring on. She told me to call her, sometime; she wanted to know how much I had grown. With all that's been happening, it must have slipped my mind. She did say she was on her second marriage, happily married. Maybe I don't want to tempt that, I mutter to myself.
Except I go back to staring at her naked picture, on my father's phone. In it, she sits on a red bench, facing the camera. How gorgeous she looks. How desirable. I feel jealous of my father. I want what he had.
I set up my cell phone, so I can see it well, then climb into the shower, under the warm water, and I grab my shaft, already at attention, and I start rubbing one out. With the door unlocked, there's always a chance one of my sisters might walk in if they wake up. I can always pretend the picture is merely porn. I doubt they'd remember Mrs. Welsh.
Soon, I'm rock hard and going at it fierce, my eyes trained on the cell phone. I almost don't hear the footsteps in the hall; even then, it takes me a moment to react. My first instinct is to grab my cell phone - not knowing what to do with it, I throw it in the open hamper. There's a knock on the door.
- Grant? Are you in there?
Mom's voice. I have a hand on my erection and I'm hearing mom's voice. The situation is both arousing and troubling.
- I... I am, mom.
- Can I come in? she asks.
- O-Ok, but I'm in the shower.
My mind isn't focused this morning. The shower curtain is still open; I hear the door crack and I react in an almost panicked movement; I try to pull the curtain in place, but I pull way too hard. Quite literally, it snaps off and falls to the ground. Mom hears the sounds and rushes in.
It's a bewildering scene for both of us. In one hand, I'm holding what remains of the shower curtain, torn of its supports; in the other I'm yet holding my cock, fully visible to my mom. She stops and stares. I'm frozen stiff. Her eyes wander away from my frame, but they keep darting to my erection. Neither of us say anything for a moment. I finally pull the curtain to cover myself - I also let go of my manhood and look down awkwardly.
- ...I'm so sorry, mom.
- Well, you shouldn't be. It's... perfectly natural to... you know.
She giggles nervously.
- I'd left my... razor in here, she says.
I see it on the counter.
- I'll fix the curtain, I promise her.
- You... do that, Grant. Son.
My mom's gorgeous. She's wearing a nightgown with some cleavage, enough that I can see the edge of the crack of her breasts, the cloth hanging from them giving me a perspective on their size.
- Uh-mmm...
She picks up her razor and is about to walk out, but then stops. I feel so exposed, and so aroused. My erection just won't go away, hidden behind the curtain.
- Why don't you... finish up, she tells me.
- Ok. I will. Thanks.
I give her an awkward smile; she walks out, closes - and locks the door. I feel terrible - and terribly excited. I drop the curtains and grab my shaft intently, staring at the door where mom just left. I jerk off with a passion, abandoning all restraint. The only thing I do is make myself as silent as possible.
When the orgasm hits, I internalize everything, watching myself spray across the room, almost to the door, in blissful release. I play with it until I'm spent to the edge of pleasure, then I almost slip in the bathtub. At that point, I can't hold back my laughter though I make it discreet.
A moment later, as I'm recovering, I hear a knock on the door.
- What's so funny? I hear my older sister Stacey tell me.
- Forget it, I tell her. It's an inside joke.
I look at the mess I just made on the bathroom floor. I just get out of the shower and clean it up - it only takes a moment. Turning off the water, I wrap a towel around me.
- Can I come in? she asks.
I open the door and stand in the way. As I suspected, Stacey is wearing only her night camisole where I can see her perky nipples pointing up under the cloth, and comfortable looking panties.
- I'm all finished, I tell her.
- And you didn't wait for me? she quips with a smile. Should I be offended?
- Never.
We both laugh at her quip, then I let her pass and return to my room.
MANY MINUTES LATER, I'm down the stairs, joining mom in the kitchen. She's still in her night gown - I'm now fully dressed. My sisters are still at their competition upstairs, so I have a few minutes to myself.
The elephant in the room needs to be acknowledged, I tell myself.
- That was dumb on my part, I tell my mom. Not locking the door. Inviting you walk in while I was... showering.
- It's fine, she tells me. It's been a while since I had my children in my home. I'm used to being alone, so... I didn't think about it either.
We both remain in silence a moment.
- Anyway, I will be more careful, I tell her. And I will fix the pole.
The mention of the word 'pole' makes mom giggle.
- I'm sorry, she says, still smiling. It's just so silly.
- It is, isn't it.
She laughs it off; I'm pleasantly relieved that there's no fuss about it. That's good. I have a conversation I want to have with her, but I also want my sisters to be present. Any awkwardness might break the benefit of what I want to tell my family. Mom's still preparing breakfast, so I decide to make a call.
Except I can't find my phone.
I rush up the stairs and enter the bathroom, going through the hamper. It's not there. I cringe as I realize what must have happened. I turn around and head directly for my sisters' rooms. Their door is open; I walk in.
- Nice collection you have there, Stacey calls me out in an almost hurt tone.
