When I wasn’t reminiscing or yearning, I was imagining the next time she inspected my dick. How could I help nudge her from caring to performing? There didn’t seem to be any logical next step. From kissing my booboo to stroking my dick seemed an impossible gulf.
And what if I could bridge the gulf? What if I found some ploy, and it worked? What next? Mom’s honesty might compel her to tell Dad.
That stopped me. I didn’t like the idea that my hideous lust might terribly upset Dad, rob him of his playful sense of humor, and wreck our family.
Maybe what I needed to do, I concluded, was to jerk off tonight and tell Mom that I could take care of myself going forward.
***
After dinner, I met up with some friends to study for a Chemistry test the next day. I returned home just after ten that evening.
My plan was simple. First, jerk off and shower. Then, thank Mom for her help and let her know that I was going to handle things.
I didn’t see Mom downstairs, so I went up. Izzy and Hannah were in bed, lights out. Lauren was in the shower. Peering down the hall, I saw light under the master bedroom door and Mom’s cackling laughter from behind it. I wandered over and listened.
“You’re so naughty!” she said, giggling.
She was on the phone with Dad. I smiled because I knew he was the only person who could both make her laugh that hard and shock her with something inappropriate.
“No, the question is why something like that makes you so–,” she stopped, listening to Dad’s reply, no doubt.
Something like what? I asked myself.
“I told you. It was an accident,” she argued. “Oh, yes it was! I wouldn’t–.” She suddenly burst into a fresh fit of laughter. Responding to some query from Dad, Mom said, “Because I’d already done it once–by accident–and to not to would have drawn more attention to the accident, made us both feel all the more uncomfortable about it.”
Blinking, I realized they might be talking about–.
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