"Breakfast is ready. Come on you'll be late for college!"
The voice echoing up the stairs of our modest 3 bedroom house was my mother's, or Anna as her friends call her. My friends called her a MILF but meh, I don't get it man that's my mother. They'd all tried in the various if not slightly immature ways through the years, and maybe if she was someone else's Mum I would have done the same.
"5 more minutes mom!"
"5 more nothing. Get your ass out of bed now Mister! I mean it. You may be 18 today but that doesn't make you too old to go over my knee."
She meant it too. Even with societies views on child abuse and smacking, my Mum was old school. I could say it was because she was quite a young Mum and treated me more like a sister than a mother. Maybe it was what she got from her parents and just thought that's how you did it. When I'd asked her about it she'd said it had got results, and I'd turned out alright so shut the fuck up and stop acting up and she wouldn't spank my ass like a little bitch. I smiled at the time, similar to now, she was a small package but man, when she went off it was like a rocket.
"Alright, Alright. I'm up."
I rose quickly from bed and showered and dressed in record time. Funny how she would always tell me breakfast was ready yet I always had to wait for something to finish cooking when I eventually made my way to the kitchen. One day I'd get up as soon as she said it was ready and I'd catch her in her lie.
"Don't forget that your grandparents are coming over today. I'm cooking a nice meal for after practice. Don't go dawdling on the way home."
18 today. It's a rite of passage. Legally drink, smoke, vote, fuck, none of which I'm likely to be doing at a dinner party with my grandparents.
"But mom.."
"Thomas Brennan don't but Mum me, you do this for me and have your own little party at the weekend."
And that was that. Rule number one in the Brennan house hold, you don't
but Mum
.
"Alright fine" I replied putting some more of the delicious scrambled eggs into my mouth and enjoying the buttery goodness.
"Good now finish up and get to college. I expect you back at 6.30, your grandparents will probably already be here for when you get back and you best be on your good behaviour. Just because the world thinks you a man, you gotta earn that place in this household you hear" said Mum looking at me with a stare that could penetrate ice.
"Jesus mom, I'll be good alright."
She stood up and leaned over the table smacking me on the side of the head.
"What the hell was that for, I said I'd be good."
"What did I tell you about swearing in my house. You don't take the lords name in vain."
She was right. Rule number two in the Brennan household was no swearing. At least not from me. She could swear if she wanted to, and often did. But me? Never! Apparently I had to earn that honour as well. Maybe it was the fact that my father had been absent all my life so my Mum had to play nurturer and disciplinarian in equal measure. Or it could be that she came from a strict military family with both her father and mother having served in the armed forces. Whatever the reason, it looked like rules weren't about to change just because the planet had completed another lap of the great ball in the sky.
I hated college and schooling in general, it always seemed so dull. Tutors, professors and teachers had been telling my Mum throughout the years that if I applied myself to something I was gifted, but other times I just sat there uninterested. They'd suggested private tutors in advanced subjects as I tended to ask questions beyond my years that the tutors said they couldn't answer without dragging the lesson plan off at a tangent. Sometimes they wouldn't answer as they didn't know the answer, that tended to be when I'd get sent to detention or some other form of punishment. Worse punishment tended to follow if Mum found out.
Mum didn't always resort to physical violence and beat on me mercilessly, she tended to mix it up. One time I got in trouble and she knew I was scared of heights so she asked me to fix a tile on the roof. When I was up there tools in hand she then took away the ladder leaving me stranded. I called for her and pleaded with her but she told me to stop being a pussy and to fix the damn tile. After waiting 5 hours and realising it was getting cold and Mum probably wasn't coming back with the ladder I took matters into my own hands and climbed down the drain pipe. It got me over my fear of heights though.
The only subject I did well at without really trying was physical education. When I was 5 my Mum took me to ballet classes. I'd whinged and moaned about it at the time, how other boys didn't go to ballet and I was going to get picked on. I hated if to begin with, I was the laughing stock both inside and outside of lessons. Thankfully much of the taunts stopped when I performed a dance from swan lake at the school Christmas play, the round of applause that followed was deafening and it was the only time I can remember seeing my Mum in the front row in tears. Unfortunately I had to give up ballet when I was 14. I went through a growth spurt that put me at a little under 6 feet 6 inches. I was too gangly and unsightly standing well over a foot taller than anyone else, but the strength and agility it gave me transitioned well into over sports. Especially rugby where after less than half the season I'd beaten the county record for number of tries scored.
Today was the last practice of the season. The last session before college broke up and we all went our separate ways. It was grueling and surprisingly people still came out to watch us in the rain and mud. It culminated in a 10 first team versus 15 second team game at the end. By the end of the game I was battered and bruised, but left the field victorious. Coach called me aside at the end of the game and gave me yet another grilling about how foolish I was going to University instead of signing for a professional team. Eventually getting away I realised I was going to be late and would need to skip a shower till I got home.
After running most of the way home I barged through the door, pleased to see the clock said 6:28. "Hi Mum I'm home!" I shouted stripping down to my boxers in the hallway and bundling up my clothes.
I could hear voices in the garden. It sounded a little heated so thought best to leave them to it. I ran upstairs to shower and change. After wiping the blood and mud away I could see the scars of victory in the various cuts and bruises which littered my body. My hand grabbed the soap and rubbed it over my upper body and under my arms before sliding over my nipples and down my abs before rubbing it friskily in my pubes to build up a lather. I continued running the soap down both legs before returning up the back of my knees and thighs then rubbing it on and then between my ass cheeks. My cock pulsed at the feeling of the slippery smooth bar sliding against my tight hole. At one point growing up I'd wondered if it made me gay when my cock got hard if I played with my ass. I still didn't know for sure but so far I'd only gotten erect looking at pictures of naked women, and I didn't feel the need to sneak peaks at any men in the showers or at urinals.
I put the soap down and gathered up some water from the shower in my cupped hands before running my hands over my already soaped up body. When my hands reached my pubes I gathered up some of the lathe and worked my hardening length with my hand. It felt good to rub my cock under the guise of washing myself. I smoothed the soap suds around the head of my now fully engorged cock, brushing the underside with my fingertips and relishing in the toe curling effect it had on my nervous system. I grabbed the root of my cock with my other hand and started to rub with increasing pace, my knees involuntarily bending with the pleasure. I closed my eyes and pictures of past scenes from porno's I'd watched starting replying in my mind. I continued jerking my 8 inch cock but moved my hand from off the head, running the now free hand back up my body pinching my nipple and grunting at the pain but stroking my cock faster and with bigger strokes.
I trailed my hand down my abs again working my way around my hips before stroking my buttocks. I could feel my balls shrinking and the cum boiling within, begging for release. My fingers trailed down my crack brushing against my still lathered hole and my fingers circled around it. I roughly pinched the inside of my ass cheek, digging what little nails I had into the flesh, drawing a silent scream from my mouth which opened with the raw pain. Faster and faster I jerked my cock, my body moving and twitching with the ferocity and speed of my strokes. If anyone was listening at the door it would be clear what I was doing, the noises loud, the rapid slapping of skin and my laboured breath.
I cried out as my fingers now trailed my perineum and stroked the coarse hair on my balls in the lightest of fashion. They felt tight to my body, compressed and caught in an invisible grip as strong as any vice. I was close now, I could feel it building, my legs shaking in response. My fingers trailed again across my perineum applying pressure as the orgasm reached my knees and started arching upwards. Just at the crest of the hill, the point at which momentum changes, I pushed a finger in my ass and it felt as if someone had kicked me over the hill and I plummeted towards release.
My buttocks clenched the digit still inside and my eyes flew wide as wave after wave cascaded through me. Thick globules of cum spewed from my cock onto the shower wall spraying it with what felt like a pint of hot liquid. I grunted and inserted the finger deeper, and tightened the grip on my cock further, trying to milk all of the orgasm and all of the juice from my body. All too soon I was left weak kneed with no further pleasure wave in sight. Adrift in a calm sea I released my cock and removed the finger from my ass. My breath returning to normal I grabbed the soap again and quickly cleaned my body a 2nd time before turning my attention to cleaning the wall of any evidence.
I was surprised that I'd still not heard any shouts from my Mum for my tardiness, and shut off the shower. The bathroom faced the back garden and I could clearly hear more raised voices, but the words were muffled and unintelligible. Happy with the clean-up of myself and the wall, I quickly stepped from the shower and wrapped a towel around my waist. I briskly walked to my room and dried myself off as quickly as I could. The earlier rain showers had faded quickly and the warm glow of the sun through my window felt revitalising against my skin. I threw on a tight polo shirt which clung to my moderately damp body and some loose boxers and cargo shorts.
I checked my face and hair in the mirror, pleased that it was kind of an unwritten rule that you avoided the face especially in practice sessions. Happy with my hair and general appearance I quickly made my way downstairs. Ominously the voices seemed to rise in volume with every step. Just what the hell are they arguing about I wondered. Much like myself my mother never spoke back to her parents. Even if they were in the wrong she'd try to avoid conflict.