All characters in this story are 18 year and older. This is a work of fantasy. If you're easily offended or have no imagination, I suggest going fucking yourself. Nobody will judge!
*****
'Look, it's really no big deal. You're getting stressed out for nothing,' Karen dismissed, cutting him off.
It had taken long enough to get her son Michael to open up about what had gotten into him lately. She was instinctive enough to know why. He was a little past that age now at 18, but he hadn't had much luck. All of his friends were boys, and the worst kind; full-time gamers!
'Mom, I don't want to talk about it okay?'
Michael couldn't believe how overbearing his mother could be sometimes. It was like she couldn't let anything go until it was all up in the air. Even then she seemed to make a bigger deal than most, only to downplay it the moment he lost patience with her.
'Don't be such a crank,' she remarked; case in point. 'You sound just like your father did.' That saddened Michael a little, being compared to that absent old tool. He gave her that look, as if to say "Don't". 'Well you do!'
'I'm not like him and being told otherwise isn't going to help, is it?'
'Just don't turn into him, darling,' Karen casually suggested. 'It would be such a waste. You're a handsome boy. The wrong girls will fall for your looks first and then when you piss them off with that attitude they'll tear your social life to shreds and then you'll be in the doghouse before you've even begun.'
'This isn't even about my social life,' Michael said flabbergasted. All the while he gesticulated wildly.
'How is getting girls nothing to do with your social life?'
'Because-
'Because you don't have a social life?!' she teased. 'What's the problem? Why are you so hung up on girls all of a sudden? Are you a late starter or something? Not that there's anything wrong with that, but have you even been with a girl?'
'No, and I don't care okay? So just leave it,' Michael defended, arms crossed sullenly.
'Bullshit, I haven't been with anybody for nine years,' Karen retaliated. 'Nine years, Michael. I'm up to my eyeballs in cobwebs. So you're a virgin. Big deal!'
'Well it is a big deal, okay,' he admitted, turning one-eighty on himself. His mom gave a sympathetic look, held her breath and then eased it out carefully. 'I always act so stupid around girls I like. It's like there's some idiot switch that gets flipped.'
'That's called excitement, Michael. It'll wear off in ten years, trust me.'
'I'm not waiting ten years, mom. Just cut it out will you? Forget about it.'
'Can I help? There's something I could do, surely?' she asked then, and he didn't know what she meant. Surely not THAT!
'I doubt it.'
'You just need to get laid is all,' she offered out of kind then, and Michael noticed that too. 'Once that happens, you'll calm down and get a hold of yourself and girl things will come naturally.'
'What are you even suggesting right now?'
'Follow me,' she said, walking from the landing into her bedroom. Michael stood frozen solid. What was she doing? 'Come in here,' she said and disappeared out of view, and in all his teenage experience he knew even the sound of a woman slipping off her panties.
Her shadow bent double against the farthest wall, affirming his suspicion. Immediately the alarm bells rang, upstairs and down.
'Michael,' she snapped, and then to the other extreme, 'I won't bite.'
Michael walked into the room to find her sat on the edge of the bed where her skirt had ridden up her thighs. He wouldn't otherwise have noticed but this was one weird scene to find himself in.
'Stand in front of me,' she ordered and when he did, to his surprise she immediately began to unbuckle his belt.
'Whoa,' he reacted and tried to back off, 'what are you doing?'
'Shush!' she said, unbuttoning his jeans as he looked down, dumbfounded. 'You can't be afraid of girls,' she explained matter-of-factly. 'They're not so different to boys once you get past the hormones. When it comes to sex, everybody wants the same thing. So if a girl likes you, she likes you for who you already are. You don't need to act any other way to try to impress her. Acting like a class clown certainly won't impress her either.'
'Mom, what are you doing?' he repeated.
'Oh, don't be such a baby. Pull down your shorts.'
What?
Did she just say that?
Of course she did.
She'd already pulled his jeans down over his hips and now she was staring at the growing bulge in his tight boxers with an expression that looked something like...
Thirst? Longing? Yearning?
Michael might have been bashful or despondent but one thing he wasn't was shy. And neither was he unconfident in his own size. What the hell, he thought, and slipped them down, and his semi-erect cock sprang free.
The fact that his own mother seemed pleased to see his growing excitement only seemed to make matters more strained, but the bigger he grew-
'Oh look at you. You are blessed, aren't you?!'
'I do okay,' he replied sheepishly.
'But you don't do anything according to why we're having this conversation to begin with,' Karen quipped. 'Can I touch it?'
'This is weird enough mom, don't you think?'
Regardless, she took his growing length in one hand and just held it. And he got harder and harder while she just studied it like some rare or even mythological creature.
'This isn't weird to you?' he prodded, 'the fact that you're holding my cock in your hand? And it's hard?'
'Eh,' Karen shrugged without a care, 'you're at a point in your life when there isn't much that won't cause a boner. That's to be expected. Girls aren't always that different. I don't think I ever had a dry pair of panties up until the age of twenty five.'
'Jesus, really mom,' Michael scolded.
'What?'
'NOT HELPING!!'
'But you just have to learn to respect women and not to forget that,' she continued, 'even when they choose to become your little fuck toy, they're still people. Their feelings matter, before, during and after.'
It startled Michael to hear his mother refer to any woman as a fuck toy. Losing himself in a figgy daze, he wondered from the back of his mind if she knew she was jerking him so slowly to full hardness, or that she was giving her own son the most casual and erotic hand job. Her own son...
'Is this right? I'm sure this is wrong,' Michael interrupted the growing silence.
'Well people will tell you that it's wrong, but if a mother can't teach her son about the birds and the bees, and how to respect women, then who can?'
'But I already know-