Masturbation Lessons with Mom

"Can you top me up, Alicia?" Debbie asked, her voice already giggly. I obliged and filled her glass with white wine, almost to the brim as she nodded her head encouragingly, laughing to myself at how wild these middle-aged ladies got when they had the opportunity to let their hair down.

It was the night of my Mom's cocktail party at our house. It usually happened every few months, with rotating hosts. Mom always got really excited about hosting. I had only been to the ones we had at our house, which was probably for the best, because while the nights usually started off fairly unremarkably, the debauchery tended to overwhelm things quickly.

They all loved their wine and, of course, there was always a signature cocktail to be had. They always got dolled up for the occasion, embodying the

why not?

attitude that dominated most of their social gatherings. Mom was dressed sensibly in jeans and a white blouse, but had spent a lot of time on her make-up and had her shoulder-length hair down, the dark streaked through with grey. Most of the ladies were divorced, including my Mom, and after they imbibed, they really knew how to let the colourful language fly. They didn't hold back, the volume steadily rising as they yelled about their sexual exploits, cackling with glee at the scandalous behaviour they routinely entwined themselves in.

I could tell from the cacophony booming from our kitchen that we were rapidly approaching that point of the night. I peeked my head around from the living room, spying my Mom with a few of her friends, hollering and laughing like they hadn't a care in the world. I actually did like seeing her this way; she was always a joyous person, but her spark seemed a bit dull lately.

Most weekend nights I'd be out with my friends, but seeing as how I lived at home in my early 20s still, and these events were important to Mom, I attended out of solidarity. I knew she loved having me around for them, and I unofficially fulfilled the role of drink-topper and, for those who

really

went for it, babysitter.

Mom saw me from the kitchen, beckoning for me to come join. I looked quickly around for my wine glass, taking a sip, steeling my nerve as I made my way over. I was fully prepared for her embarrassing actions; her friends always egged her on. I was more on the reserved side, perhaps taking after my Dad. She often mentioned how he had held her back, like he had shackled her and prevented her from being herself. She was definitely

un

shackled tonight.

She put her hands out in an enthusiastic welcome. "My baby! Come talk with us, sweetie," she said too loudly, her face flushed with alcohol and mirth. I hugged her quickly, turning to acknowledge the other ladies in the circle politely.

"Alicia, honey, you look so gorgeous tonight!" Kelly said, her cocktail nearly finished.

"She must have

all

the boys after her," Janelle said to my Mom, as if I wasn't even in the room.

"I think they're interested, but she doesn't let them get near! High standards for my princess," Mom said with a touch of pride in her voice.

"Mom..." I said, unable to let the comment slide.

"Oh it's ok, hon! You have to wait for the right guy. And if he's the right one, he'll be willing to beg for it," Penny said, giggling like a child.

"Don't you just love it when they're so desperate for it? They really can't think about anything else!" Mom exclaimed, setting off a round of laughs.

"Yeah but neither can you, Sheila!" Janelle teased, the ladies laughing.

Mom hit Janelle playfully, a mock-angry expression on her face, before melting into a grin. "Can you blame me? A girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do. And some of the men out there are just...mmm."

"I hear you, babe," Kelly agreed.

"Have your eye on anyone special, Alicia?" Penny asked, leering at me as if I had the juiciest gossip of the group.

"Um, no, not really. Nobody in particular," I admitted, trying to think of any excuse possible to escape this increasingly painful situation.

"She's an independent woman!" My mom said proudly, putting her arm around me, squeezing my shoulder tightly.

"Even independent women need a good fuck every now and then," Janelle said, draining the last of her cocktail.

"And if they can't get that, at least a glass of wine and a date with the shower head will do the trick!" Kelly howled, suddenly overcome with laughter.

I felt my face go red at that. "I'm...going to make sure everyone else is doing all right," I said, shifting away from my Mom's grasp.

"Aww, sweetie, it's ok, we're just joking around! Girls will be girls, you know?" Mom called after me as I finally exited the room, ironically in search of my own alcohol to wash away the absurd experience. I found my wine glass and drained it, looking around for an open bottle, stalking across the room when I spotted it. I filled up my glass again, taking another healthy sip, shaking my head to myself.

I engaged in small talk a few more times, restricting myself to the living room, until the guests slowly began to peter out. I made sure everyone had a designated driver to get them home; I was somewhat inebriated myself, but I had enough wits about me to fulfill the role properly.

My Mom eventually kissed her last guest goodbye, and she came over to the couch, dropping down dramatically next to me. The booze on her breath was apparent, and she was slightly glassy-eyed.

"That was a lot of fun, wasn't it hon?" she asked, nudging my arm with her elbow, trying to get a rise out of me.

"Yeah, seemed like a great turn-out, Mom. Everyone seemed to love your signature cocktail this time around," I agreed, somewhat sullen, taking in all the party debris surrounding us.

"Are you ok, darling?" she asked, her tone softening, her fingers playing with my hair, as she often affectionately did.

I shrugged my shoulders a bit. "Yeah, I'm fine Mom. Things always seem to get a little out of hand at these parties."

"You're not still upset about what the girls were saying, are you?"

"I was never

upset

, it's just that group, including you, just feeds off itself and says the most inappropriate things possible in a public space," I stated firmly.

"Oh, I'm sorry, love. We're just having fun. You know how I love getting together with my friends. But I love you the most, you know that, right? I didn't mean for anything to touch a nerve," she said, nestling in closer to me, appealing to my forgiving nature.

"Private things should just be private," I said softly.

"Aww, honey, they were just being silly. And drunk. Like I am," she giggled. "Besides, can you honestly say you

haven't

been wanting to be with a guy? It's been a long time since I've seen you go on a date."

"Mom, ugh, seriously? I mean, yeah, I'd love to date a nice guy, but it'll just happen when it happens, all right? I've told you this a million times," I said indignantly. She tried to placate me by rubbing my arm, but I carried on. "That wasn't the part that really bothered me, though."

She looked at me quizzically, then recognition dawned on her face, manifesting as a slow grin. "Ohhh, I see. Don't want everyone to know you're dating your showerhead?"

"My god Mom, honestly. You're being ridiculous right now."

"What?? There's nothing wrong with a little self-love!

Especially

if it's been a while since you've had the real thing. Lord knows I'm guilty of that," she muttered to herself, blatantly ignoring any attempt at decorum.

I looked at her incredulously. "I get that Mom, honestly, I do. It's just not the kind of thing I want to discuss with you and all your horny friends."

"Ohhh, I see how it is. Sweetie, I can tell you this with nothing but truth in my dear old heart. There's nothing to be ashamed of. Masturbation is a normal part of life. It's even better than sex a lot of the time!"

"I can't have this conversation right now," I said, pointedly looking away from her.

"Honey, don't be like that. Come on. Talk to your Mom," she began, misreading every social cue I was throwing at her. "Is it something you don't do very often? Or you're not good at?"

"I just - I can't - ugh. This is insane. We should not be talking about this right now."

"Sweetheart, I know you're a grown woman now. We can talk honestly about this kind of thing! I love you, and I would never judge you for any of it. I swear," she said, slurring the word

swear

.

"If you

must

know, which is very bold of you, it's never been my favourite thing. It just doesn't...feel that great for me," I said, following up this admission with a large sip from my wine glass, scarcely believing we were talking about this.

"Oh, really?" she asked, sitting up, suddenly more interested. "Maybe you're not doing it properly?"

"Mom, I think I know how to do it -"

"Well how do you do it?" she cut across me.

I stared at her unblinkingly. "You seriously want to know?"

"Yeah, I mean, I want to help you, hon," she said genuinely.

I sighed deeply, reticent to admit anything. If it wasn't for the wine, I would have kept my mouth shut. "I just use my fingers and do it that way."

"You don't use any toys?" she asked, tilting her head to one side.

"No, I never felt comfortable about that. I don't have any," I said.

She looked as if she wanted to object, but chose not to. "Ok, so do you just rub, or do you go inside, or what do you do?"

"I don't know, I just - I touch where it feels good, and I try for a while, but nothing ever seems to come of it."

She smiled at me, somewhat too patronizingly for my taste. "Oh hon, if you're doing it right, a lot of things will come of it. Including you," she laughed too long at her own joke. "Ok. Maybe I should give you a few pointers," she said, draining her own glass.

I knew she wasn't going to let me back out of this. Once she got going, she was like a bulldozer, plowing over every objection until she was sure you heard what she had to say. It was easier to just let her say her piece than it was to put in the energy fighting back. So, I sighed internally and let her carry on.

She brought her feet up on the couch, opening her legs up a little. "Ok, so if you're going to rub, you have to make sure you stimulate yourself properly. Do you know how to find your clit?"

I fought the urge to bury my face in my hands. "Yes, Mom," was all I could say, annoyed.

"Well are you sure?" she replied accusingly. "I'm trying to help you here, and if you knew where your clit was, you probably wouldn't be having the trouble you're having. It's right under your hood, at the top of your labia. Sometimes it pops out to say hello if things are going really well," she snickered, unable to get through one coherent thought without making a lame attempt at humour.

I rolled my eyes, waiting for her to continue.

"Show me where you think it is. Go on, just over top of your pants. Don't worry, it's just us here, nobody else."

I relented, lifting my feet up, positioning them similarly to hers on the couch. I opened my legs a bit, and put my fingers over top of my clothed pussy. I felt around a little, orienting myself, and stopped. "Right here."

She scanned my positioning. "Hmm, looks a little low to me, hon. Yours might look different than mine, who knows. But this is the important part. Here, let me show you."

Before I could utter a word in, she was unbuttoning and sliding her pants down, revealing her black lace panties, a little neat bow at the front. She brought her feet back up on the couch, and placed her hand over them, using her middle and ring fingers to probe around. She made a little excited "ah!" sound, and looked over at me.

"Here it is. I always

know

when I'm on her. She's soooo sensitive, and if she's treated properly, she'll treat you properly."

I watched her rub and circle herself over her panties, not wanting to admit out loud that her technique was definitely different than what I was doing. Maybe she was on to something?

"Take your pants off, sweetie, it'll make this easier, believe me," she said.

I looked around for my wine glass; if I was going to do this, I'd need more booze in my system. I found it, emptying my glass in one gulp. I reluctantly began unbuttoning my jeans, hooking my thumbs under the waistband and sliding them down my legs. I had on a set of purple satin panties. I brought my hand to the front, trying to mimic my Mom's use of two fingers.

"That's it, ok, feel around a bit, when you find her, you'll feel like an electric feeling in your stomach, your ass, your pussy, and your tits. At least I do. And it will make you super horny," she said, her own circles continuing steadily.

I felt around at the top of my slit, trying to feel what she could feel, and it didn't feel like much. It wasn't unpleasant, but I didn't see stars or feel nirvana or any of the things she was talking about. It just felt like I was touching skin.

"I - I don't really feel anything, Mom," I said, wanting to quit on the whole thing.

"It's ok darling! She must be hiding. Maybe yours is shaped a bit differently than mine. If I can see it, I'd be able to help you out a bit more. Here, you can see mine too."

Again, she acted without waiting for my reply, pushing her panties down and off her feet. I couldn't help but stare, curious as to how she looked in comparison to me. She had a trimmed patch of hair above her bare lips, and her slit looked long to me. Her outer labia lay out like an open book. Seeing that I was looking, she capitalized on the moment. "Look here, honey. See my hood here?" she asked, pulling up with fingers on either side of the apex of her slit.

I nodded, now watching intently. She pressed her middle fingertip right in the centre of the hood, touching briefly, and I could see the small nub was standing up slightly, resisting her touch. "She's right here. And she's pretty happy to be touched," she said, amusement in her voice.

"Oh, yeah, I see it now Mom. That's - that's actually helpful. Um, can you tell me if mine is like that?" I asked, pulling my own panties down. I had shaved a couple of days ago, the stubble starting to grow back slightly, and I could see my own lips were a lighter pink than my Mom's.

"It's so pretty, hon! Ok, so you see your hood there?" she pointed, bringing her finger quite close to me.

I pulled my lips apart a little with both hands, staring down at myself. "Yeah, I see it."

"Ok great, so try to touch there and see what happens. Do it like I do," she beckoned, circling hers steadily again.

I watched her, fixing the image in my mind and orienting my fingers in the same way. I began rubbing in slow circles right where she indicated. I gave it some time, but I still didn't feel anything.

"It's all right, but - it doesn't feel like much, Mom," I complained, starting to feel like there was something wrong with me.

"Ok, hang on sweetie. It looks like your hood is a bit bigger than mine. Maybe if you try to open it up a little you'll find her hidden underneath?"

"I'm not really sure how to do that," I said, frustrated.

"Not a problem, ok honey? I can help you," she said, scooting over closer to me, taking my thigh and resting it across her lap so she could see more clearly. "Right, that's better. Let me just..." she said, using the fingers of both hands to feel around either side of my hood. She took her middle finger and circled around where she was doing it on herself, looking up at me.

"Still nothing, hon?" she asked.

"Still nothing," I said, dismayed.

"Ok. Let me try this..." she said, focusing intently on what she was doing. She delicately hooked two fingers underneath the lip of my hood and spread up and apart slightly. She held me in that position and skillfully used another finger to circle softly again.

The effect was nearly immediate. "Oh, wow, um, I think you - I think you found it, Mom," I breathed out, the sensation shooting through my body like lightning. She was right - I had never felt

this

before.

"That's my girl!! Oh, this is fabulous. Ok, if we keep going, she'll probably get a bit bigger and even happier," she said with a smile.

I could only nod as she continued to circle me, and the feelings were building. I gasped as I felt tingles coursing up my spine, arching my back slightly, my thighs widening even further. There was a heat now in my pussy, but it wasn't only there: it was in my chest, my face, and my thighs.

"Isn't it amazing, sweetie?" she asked, her face close to mine now. I looked over at her, my mouth slightly open as I tried to reconcile all these new feelings. I truly had been missing out; if I knew it felt like

this

, I would have been doing it so much more often.

"It's - oh my god, it's really good, Mom," I gasped.

She dipped her fingers lower, away from my clit for a moment, sliding along the edge of my lips and coming back up. "I can tell it's working, hon, look how wet you are now!" she said proudly, bringing her fingers up to the light for me to see, a clear sheen decorating them.

"Can - can you keep going - like before?" I asked, turning to her; I desperately wanted those mind-blowing feelings to continue.

"Of course, babe. But I want you to practice it too. So I know you know how to do it. I'll start off, and then I'll help you take over," she said lovingly.

She again pulled my hood up just slightly and found my clit expertly, the rubbing stimulation beyond anything I had imagined. I watched how she moved, obviously a veteran at this, and I let out soft moans. I could hear the wet, sticky sound of her fingers moving over me, and I secretly wished I had had these lessons a long time ago.

I brought my one of my hands to my inner thigh, close to hers, resting it flat. I could smell my pussy now, in a way I never could before; it was sweet and had an unmistakable tang to it. I felt such a

need

now. I always tried to do this and hoped for something good to happen, but now I just craved more of this heavenly feeling.

Mom paused her touch, grasping my hand with slick fingers, guiding my hand to my clit. She placed my middle and ring fingers over top of it gently, and kept her hand on top of mine, moving my fingers to her rhythm. I used my other hand to pull up on my hood as we masturbated my clit together. It felt nearly as incredible as when she was doing it; there was an undeniable excitement to someone else doing it which heightened the experience.

I felt her breath in my ear, realizing she was close enough to whisper. "That's it, sweetie, keep going just like that. You're doing

such

a good job."

I groaned at her words in my ear, as if they had a direct line to my clit, the sensitivity rocketing up suddenly. I tried to increase the pace, but her hand slowed me down, forcing me to continue my current pace.

"Just let it happen slowly. Enjoy it, darling," she whispered.

We continued on, her hand on mine, rubbing together as one unit. I couldn't remember ever feeling as wet as this; I could tell I was unbelievably soaked inside. I had never been touched like this. I had fooled around with guys enough times, and it always seemed enjoyable enough, but there was never a focus on

my

pleasure quite like this. Nobody ever took the time with me as Mom was doing now.

Slowly she withdrew her hand, sitting back a little on the couch. I looked over at her in question, and she smiled at me.

"You're doing great, baby. Just keep going like you have been. I think it's time I joined you," she said, and I could hear the quavering in her voice. She opened her thighs up as wide as mine, my left over her right, and she ran her fingers up and down her slit a few times before returning to her reliable clit-circling. I could hear the squelch of her movements, and her own beautiful aroma found its way to my nose.