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.
"No! Not today. That wasn't the deal." I could hear my mother say.
What deal? I wondered to myself whilst making my way through the kitchen, stopping at the fridge to grab myself a drink. Should I grab a beer? I mean legally I could but probably not a good idea with my mother sounding so angry. I grabbed a bottled water draining it quickly and shutting the fridge, making my way through to the utility room and back door. It opened out onto decking with a veranda covering one half providing shelter from the sun or rain. There was a fire pit in the centre of the decking which we regularly cooked on. We often enjoyed relaxing outside during both the hot and cold nights. Wooden steps lead down to an expanse of grass that ran right to the bottom of our long rectangle garden.
As I stepped out onto the decking I noticed both grandparents sitting under the veranda at the wraparound cushioned oak bench and table. Both looked ashen with the only warmth in their faces provided by the fire pit which had a cooking pot simmering away above it. I saw Mum at the bottom end of the garden, talking to a tall figure, I contemplated getting a closer look to see if I could recognise them. Just as I was about to approach I felt a wave of oppressive force coming from their direction which poured ice into my veins and clenched at my gut. Their body language appeared confrontational and it surprised me. Although my Mum was firm with me, I don't think she'd ever been in a confrontation or fight in her life. That and the fact that the other person with their back to me had at least a good foot on her, made the situation seem implausible and equally troubling. My grandfather caught my eye and gave a weak smile.
"He's here" called out my grandfather in a voice loud but cracking with emotion.
What the hell is going on I wondered as everyone appeared to be congregating at the top of the steps. As the figures grew closer I could see the person my mother was talking to was a woman. Not just any woman, she looked to be the tallest women I had ever seen, which explained the David vs Goliath air which seemed to permeate as they came up the steps. My Mum was first to the top and pulled me into a hug.
"You are late, young man. I'd chastise you but I don't think now is the time" Mum said burrowing her face into my pectoral muscle.
"I shouted from the front door. You must not have heard me. Mom, is everything Ok?" I asked looking to the other woman as she stepped up.
She had to be at least 6 feet 2 inches tall and was supermodel thin. She had dark brown eyes that looked like dark chocolate and her hair, although pulled back into a high bun, looked very red and really frizzy. She had olive skin which gave her somewhat of a Mediterranean vibe; Italian or Spanish perhaps. She was easily the most strikingly unfeminine woman I had ever seen.
"Hello Thomas" she said in a thick English accent with a deep baritone. Nope definitely not Italian or Spanish, maybe just lots of outside work or good genes. "I have waited for this day for a long time."
The smile on her face that followed felt almost predatorial. It reminded me of a cat ready to pounce and devour its pray. I felt a chill flow up my spine and my throat went dry. I got a feeling she was waiting for a response, and I felt my Mum shaking in the hug.
"Mum what's wrong, what's going on. I can count on 1 hand the amount of times you've cried. Just tell me what's wrong." I asked exasperated by the situation and hating that it appeared everyone was aware of something that only affected me.