I couldn’t speak. I swallowed in a dry throat.
Looking at my hard cock, her grin faded into something thoughtful. She turned to me. “Baby, have you been able to ejaculate since this happened?”
“No,” I replied. “I mean, it hasn’t happened.” I swallowed again, feeling myself turn pink.
She let go of the shaft and curled her fingers around my balls. Everything was already scrunched up down there, so the entire contraption fit snugly in her hand. Her fingers undulated comfortingly before she said, “Maybe you ought to make sure there are no problems.”
“Yeah?”
She nodded. “Make sure there is no unexpected discomfort,” she said. “And have a look at your semen while you’re at it. See that there’s no discoloration.”
“Okay.” I must have been bright red at that point.
“Good,” she murmured, releasing my balls and setting her hand on my leg with a sigh. “Well, I suppose I’ll check on your sisters and get started on breakfast.” She stood.
“Mom?”
“Hmm?”
“Will you–?” I hesitated. I didn’t know how to ask, but the need was so fierce, the words just spilled from me. “I mean, will you do that thing you do–when you make me feel better?”
She looked at me curiously. She looked at my cock and let out a faint gasp. Turning back to me with a sympathetic smile, she said, “I almost forgot, didn’t I?”
I nodded.
She sat by my hip, bent over my hard-on, and whispered, “A big kiss for you this time.” She closed her eyes, and as her face approached my cock, her lips fattened and parted. They landed behind the tip and between the two strips of tape–very near that most sensitive of places.
I almost grunted when those soft lips latched onto me. For a full second, she remained, and I felt enough wetness and suction that my cock throbbed just as she drew back with an audible pop.
I know my jaw hung open when Mom sat up and turned to me, smiling and petting my hair. “We can’t have me forgetting to kiss my baby’s booboo, can we?”
I shook my head, unable to speak.
“Alright,” she cooed. Then, she covered me with the sheets, rose, and left my bedroom.
***
I needed to cum. The urge had never been stronger, and I knew that when I did, it would be explosive.
But I didn’t snap out a quick jerk off session in my bed that morning. A small part of the decision rested upon the fear that it might actually hurt. A smaller contributing factor was impracticality. I didn’t want to do it with the bandage on, and I didn’t want to have to make a new bandage. The deciding factor, however, was that I simply didn’t want to make myself cum; I wanted my Mom to make me cum. I wanted her to experience the volcanic deluge of semen that lurked inside me.
It was horrible for me to think. Indecent and perverted. I was ashamed of myself, but this fizzling geyser of cum, I told myself, was for Mom.
I didn’t even try to pay attention in school. I let my mind relive the previous days, and I lingered on how beautiful my mom was. How caring and attentive. How maddeningly alluring.
I envied my dad so much that my heart ached. He had won the wife lottery, hadn’t he?
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