Everyone is 18, consenting, and fictional.
*
Got a story for ya, boys n' girls. It starts off with a dude passing out in a campfire (a la Survivor season 2) but it gets a lot more uplifting from there. Particularly if you like the idea of compulsory, matronly mothers who can appreciate their son's virility. And you agree with Burt Reynolds when he said (in Boogie Nights) "We gotta have the big dickkks... the big titttttsss". I've got some of that for ya. And if bathroom scenes are your thing, or voyeuristic tendencies, or the tension that occurs when both parties aren't too sure if this is a good idea or not...
I got ya covered. And I do mean covered.
My name's Robbie. And I fell in a campfire a few years ago. It was early and I thought I'd be Ranger Rick and rekindle the fire before everyone woke for breakfast. Was a summer thing following High School to teach us self-sufficiency as well as group dependability, now that we're going out into the real world (was my mom's idea. And yes, she felt bad about it afterwards). So I figure I'm accomplishing both those things by blowing in this fire.
Only, I pass out for a sec from the smoke. Just like in Survivor (and hey, that dude killed a boar, so I could be lamer, okay?). My body's wiser than I am so I got my hands out in front of me before landing my face in there. But by the time I'm done blinking myself awake -- my hands are pretty fried and my forearms too. The river was right beside us so it could have been worse.
So, doctors and all that and I'm back at home. Bandages all up my forearms and mummifying up my hands to such a degree that I can't use them for anything. I've got my thumbs out but that's it. By far the most severe problem that created was... I was an 18yr old virgin with a 10inch non-stop throbbing Cock! Ten to twelve days like this they said. Can't touch my boner... for 10-12 days. Fantastic.
The first problem occurred the next morning. No work for me the next several weeks so I sleep in, right. But Mom's got to check on me, make sure I'm okay the way I'm situated in bed. I finally arise around noon and see her standing there. The most obvious thing in the room is the pitched tent between us.
The morning wood is always there. Only, normally my mom isn't in there with it.
She's in her running attire... which I have to admit, looks pretty sexy on her 36 year old frame. I mean, she's sorta stacked... store boughts. She got 'em when I was 12 for her 30th birthday. Went to the best doctor on the West Coast -- and it shows. She didn't go insane large but given her natural chest size, she had no option but to upgrade from the 36C to a D. In the end that matched a bit better with her fit yet curvaceous hips... Ever since I was a kid I heard whispers passing by, 'Jesus christ, did you see that foxy bitches hips, man? She's CARVED! Oh my god, man -- look at that ass!' Used to upset me when I was younger but once she passed 30 I saw what it did for her confidence and knew she appreciated it. Anyways, the thing about the boob jobs is... they tend to perpetuate stiff nipples. It doesn't take much to set 'em off and once it happens, they stay that way for awhile regardless if she's doing the dishes, moping the floor, or just sitting there eating Pringles -- doesn't matter, they're thick and they're stiff!
Anyway, the point to make is... I'm rubbing my eyes awake and trying to focus beyond the tent I produce every morning, to some hourglass figure in my room that I soon recognize as my mom all sweaty from a run, in her skin tight shorts and tank top - with her fuckin' high beams on pointed at the ceiling. I'm not the only one stiff.
She's lookin' straight at my boner, of course.
"Oh shit, Mom? Get used to it... It looks like that every morning." I'm embarrassed but what are ya gonna do?
She raises her eyebrows a bit comically and says, "Not only that but it's been like that for hours. I've been in here four times since eight this morning and that thing's been wide-awake the entire time... waiting on you. You trying to pull a prank on your poor mother?"
"What?"
"Is there a GI Joe under there or something?"
"Jesus, mom -- no. They don't even fuckin' make those anymore." We're pretty lax with language in the house, it's okay to cuss. (As it turns out her mouth was far more filthy than mine was. Or her language anyway. Her mouth was very clean and appreciable.)
"Right. Well, can it help you get dressed and feed you breakfast?" She loves to tease me about most things.
"Turn around, will ya. Lemme see what I can do about it," I tell her.
She agrees but continues to toy with me... "What were you dreaming about for the last four hours? Patty from gymnastics?"
"What? Gymnastics, from last year?"
"Yeah, she was really cute, right?"
"I guess... if you like five foot tall." I totally wanted to ream the hell out of Patty and pretty much any other girl with exhibitionist tendencies at school. But like I said, I never did. More on that later.
"Ohhhh, you like them taller? Like your mother then, yes?" She stood upright and I caught her glancing at herself in the mirror. Uh... 5ft8 with a frame like that? Yes, that'll do just fine. Of course I didn't tell her that. Or really much consider it until things got very difficult the next few days.
"Don't you wi..." I started.
"Ah ah ah, don't you dare insult your aging mother, Robbie," she quickly advised me.
I altered my comment to kid, "I should be so lucky."
"That's much better. Much, much better. Learn to talk like that and you might have more girls around here." She had a point. "Now hop up, let's go. We'll not have you laying in bed all day. Gotta work that body to keep the healin' happenin'." My mother was enthusiastic about motivation and energy.
She moved to the side of the bed to help me up but I didn't quite have control of 'things' yet. My focal point told her the story.
"What? I don't see it anymore, honey. Is it okay?"
"Not completely," I assured her.
"Well it can't be that bad," she continued. "Turn around and stand up, I got your favorite sweats for you."
And she did indeed. My favorite sweats cuz there was plenty of room for my unit to jostle around in and not be too alarming.
She helped me up by my torso but I kept the sheet held to myself and turned to face the head of the bed. The back dropped down behind me. Offering her something unexpected.
"Jesus christ, Robbie! I wasn't expected your naked ass just now!"
"Well what do you THINK I'm wearing for it to spring stiff like that. I CAN'T wear anything. I'd never get any rest all jammed up and restricted."
"Gawwwwd... you're right, I guess I'm stupid. Damn, Robbie. I wasn't aware this was such an ongoing problem," she said a bit flustered.
"Trust me, Mom. It's a problem." And she was due some clarity to that equation in the days to... uh... cum. Seriously. I'm not making a pun.
"Alright then, let's just do this like we're adults..." I could see her in the window beside me turn back to decide what to do. I caught her looking at my ass for a moment, but she owned up to it without knowing I saw her... "Hmm, not bad Robbie. We both know where you got a bum like that from."
It looked to me like she thought about swatting it. But her hands playfully sashayed my sweatpants in her hands instead.
"Okay now, uh... I'd rather not like, kneel behind your naked butt and pull these up. Maybe you better sit back down. We'll do it one leg at a time." She carefully held me once again under an arm around my back. (Though she might be a bit crass she was very matronly, my mother. Very. With no man in the house -- she never married - I was Momma's boy. Boy Howdy would I be even more so!).
This arrangement turned out to be not quite free of error, as my stuff had still not quite subsided. It wasn't near erect like when I woke up (thanks to her innocent insults), but I was still pitching a plank off the edge of the bed... looked like I was sitting on a ruler, extending the bed sheet. Worse, I'm normally a bit of a restless sleeper but mom tucked in the sides the night before pretty tight to keep me from doing so and flopping around on my burns... this left just 6-8 inches of bed-sheet hanging out past my cock. And the air underneath... felt good. Furthermore, mom had her impressive juggs all up on me while helping me back to the sitting position... and was still leaning over while noticing the cock situation had not been solved... It's a good thing her track suit was tight to hold her chest together and not allow me to look way down in there... but she also knew to strap all that stuff up so they don't lose heft from age again, which meant she wore a tight as fuck bra underneath that shoved her boobs out when bent over that way to a porno-fuckin-graphic degree...
Commence drawbridge metaphor...
Mom had remained a little too stunned to unfreeze her position. It might have been because the cut of my cockhead is a pretty thick ridge, pronounced... and you could tell that beneath the thin sheet covering me. Once again worse, the bridge had begun before she snapped out of it and that began the throbbing... 'Throbbing Rob', that's me. (More on high school hazing later on.)
Rather than stare at her boobs some more I looked at my cock and tried to talk some sense to it.
Mom was in a trance, or snake-charmed or something. I swear she was reaching her hand down from around me and heading for the cock, slowly, like there was a butterfly on the tip she wanted to catch.
"Mom!"
"Huh?" she startled. "Well jesus, Robbie. What the hell are we going to DO with that? Why is it growing again?!"
I sighed...
"I'll be honest, Mom. Most of the time I have to... relieve myself before I start the day."
