She did. She rose, never looking at me. She packed her things and left without a word. A small roll of medical tape remained beside the sink.
Bizarre as it may seem, seeing Mom leave without a final word or sympathetic caress–without even a compassionate glance back at me–was almost as strange as her unintentionally kissing my dick.
I began to wonder if it would have been better if she’d simply apologized and found a way to laugh off that absent-minded kiss.
***
I took two painkillers before bed that night, and as I lay there in the darkness, staring at my ceiling fan and waiting for the medicine to kick in, I wondered how Mom felt.
Surely, it was mortifying when she realized she’d put her lips on her son’s dick, right? Accidental, of course, but humiliating all the same.
Mom was a lot of things; one of them was honest. She’d tell us when she took a piece of our Halloween candy without permission. When she was in a foul mood, she explained why. Once on vacation, I remember her telling me she wasn’t going swimming with the rest of us because she was having a heavy period.
So, I wondered if she would tell Dad. Oh, please, no.
Not that Dad would be upset–he wouldn’t. More likely, he would find it uproariously funny. Dad loved to laugh, especially at his own or other people’s embarrassments and foibles. The minute he knew I was going to be okay and no longer in terrible pain, he was going to rib me about getting my dick caught up in barbed wire.
Yeah, I thought, he would. I grinned a little bit despite the lingering soreness.
The smile vanished when I thought about Mom telling Dad about the kiss. Yes, he would tease her about kissing the booboo on her adult son’s cock. Dad would get Mom laughing about it, too.
Something about that scenario–Mom and Dad laughing together about that kiss in their bedroom–unsettled me, and I couldn’t or didn’t want to name the reason.
***
After separating my shoulder a few years ago, when I climbed into bed that evening, I worried about rolling onto the shoulder because I usually slept on that side. Didn’t happen. I fell asleep and woke up on my back without moving. I think our bodies are smarter than we give them credit for.
Case in point, I did not get a hard-on in the night after my cock injury. I had fully expected to get one because it always happened. Always. But not that night.
The bandage was there in the morning, and my dick had stopped bleeding. A small maroon dot sat on the center of the gauze over the wound, and that’s it–apart from some soreness.
And, I acknowledged as I scrutinized my dick, some swelling around the tip.
Mom stopped by, and the first thing she asked after kissing my forehead was if the bandage held through the night.
“Yeah.”
“Oh, good,” she sighed. Then, she asked if I had been able to get any sleep.
“Yeah.”
“How’s the bleeding?”
“Stopped.”
“And the pain?”
“I can manage.”
“Does the area around your injury feel particularly warm?”
“I don’t think so. Bit of swelling, maybe.”
“Swelling? Let me see.”
I was done fighting her on the privacy thing. I rose and pulled down my boxers. Mom knelt and examined me.
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