Everyone, I suppose, has their embarrassing moments, but when I find myself in that type situation it’s usually a doozey. My name is Charles and I am a 20-year-old junior at the local university. I certainly don’t need my mother taking care of me anymore, but life has its way of reorganizing priorities with or without a person’s consent.
For example, I was involved in a stupid automobile accident in which I broke my right leg and dislocated a shoulder. I am practically helpless in my mother’s opinion so she has come to the aid of her infirmed son. My leg, the broken one, is usually elevated in a traction harness, but I am allowed to let it rest on the mattress for short periods of time. I usually reserve this luxury for the time when Marlene, my mother, gives me my sponge bath
In the beginning this intimacy posed no problem because I was in constant annoying pain, and that fact alone occupied my attention. Meanwhile, Marlene was becoming very adept with her nurse’s aide duties. She had some errands to run today so she didn’t arrive back at my bedside until after lunch. It had been a week now since the accident so the pain in my leg had either subsided, or I had coped with the nuisance long enough to simply ignore its existence.
“Hi, Charlie. How’s my young man doing today?” I honestly believe she had that exact remark on tape so she could replay it each time she arrived.
“I’m fine, Mom. How’s your day going?” I didn’t have a tape recording, but I could have used one.
“Just dandy,” she chirped. “I put my entire motherly principles aside today and purchased some men’s magazines for you to read. The clerk in the bookstore, a cute little blonde, said these were the most popular.” She hesitated and then added, “I wished I could get your father to try some of those things with me, but you know him well enough to know he would never consider such a thing. Oh well,” she said dismissing the thought. I noticed that her breathing had deepened and her face was flushed.
I took one of the magazines from the bed beside me, and aimlessly flipped through the pages. Naturally, being the virile young man I am, I paused at some of the more explicit pictures. I could feel my pecker getting puffy.
“Mom,” I pretended to be outraged. “Have you looked at these pictures?”
“A few,” she admitted shyly.
“This is what some people use to get turned on, Mom.”
“Does it work for you?”
“In the proper frame of mine, yes it does.” I responded truthfully.
“Oh my,” she exclaimed putting her fingers to her cheek, “I almost forgot to tell you.” “What?” I cried. “Will they have to amputate this worthless leg?”
“No silly,” Mom huffed. “They’re going to let you go home this afternoon. We have an ambulance scheduled for four o’clock.”
“Now that’s good news, young lady,” I said reflecting my exhilaration at the news. “Maybe now I can get everyone to quit wet-nursing me.”
“Not exactly, Charlie,” she said in a guarded tone. “That means I will have to do all of the wet-nursing as you call it.”
“Mom,” I exclaimed, “that was when all of this was new, and I was in a great deal of pain. I’m getting too old for you to be messing around me like I was still your baby boy.”
“I don’t see the difference, but we’ll just have to wait and see, won’t we?” The expression on her face convinced me she was determined to do what needed to be done. I left it at that.
I have always tried to give credit where credit is due, and this was just such an occasion. The EMS crew negotiated the ambulance all the way to my house without hitting all of the check holes and speed barriers along the way. I was so thrilled at getting out of that God-forsaken hospital that I didn’t mind at all the few they did hit. They even got me from the gurney to my own bed without damaging incident.
After some of my best diplomacy and some begging, I convinced Mom that I would be just fine in my room alone for a while. I even convinced her that this would be an ideal time for one of those bubble baths she enjoyed so much. I had over two hours of heavenly solitude before I heard Mom approaching my bedroom door. She tapped lightly, and poked her head in the door.
“It’s just me, Charlie,” she said cheerfully. “May I come in?”
“You’re the warden,” I said trying not to sound too sarcastic. “I’m the inmate.”
“Now Charlie,” she said sounding a little put out at my tone. “Let’s both try to make the best of the situation, shall we?”
“I’m sorry, Mom,” I said sincerely. “I’ve just been flat of my back for nearly ten days now, and it is about to drive me to jacking off,” I said before I realized what I had said.
“That bad, huh?” she said as she approached the bed. “Anything I can do?”
“Not really,” I said allowing my self pity to ooze out a bit. Then I noticed how Mom was dressed. Apparently she had taken my advice on the bubble bath, and when she got out of the tub she had slipped into her three-quarter length terrycloth bath robe. I had seen my mother wearing this garment on a dozen occasions, but today I saw this rather attractive woman in her late thirties in the same robe only this time I noticed the swell of her breast making the neckline of the robe gape open and the fullness of her buttocks causing me to imagine all sorts of naughty things.
“Well, this is your dad’s bowling night. He’s already gone for the evening. We won’t see him until midnight or after,” she reminded me. “So do you want dinner first or your bath?”
My mind was still concentrating on how that skimpy bathrobe looked on my mom. “Uh, I’m not at all hungry, Mom.”
“Okay then. Bath it is.” She said and went about preparing for the chore as though she had done this all of her life. She lifted my broken leg gently, unhooked the tension bar, and lowered my leg, cast and all, to the bed’s surface. Then she drew the drapes, and went over to the wall mounted light fixture. It was one of those models that allowed you to regulate the brightness of the light. It was getting dark outside, so as she dimmed the lights the room became darker and darker. “Dark enough?”
“Yeah, thanks,” I said gratefully, “but you don’t have to go to all of this trouble, Mom.”
“Tell you what, young man,” she started as she moved the rolling bed table holding a bowl of warm water and some liquid soap closer to his bedside. I have a dimly lighted room and a handsome young man at my mercy. I’m going to lather his entire body with warm sudsy water, and, if the notion strikes me, I’m going to play with his privates. If that’s trouble, I’ll go there every time.” She was smiling but her cheeks were flushed.
