“Okay,” she said. “Bandage looks good. I think it’ll make it through a school day, don’t you?”
I nodded.
She resumed. “We can replace it tonight.” Her index finger and thumb carefully felt around the tip and along the shaft. “It doesn’t have that signature heat that would indicate the beginning of infection, but I do see some redness and swelling.” Mom snaked two fingers between my dick and my nutsack, and she raised my cock to horizontal.
I looked away because my dick was pointed at her face, and she was just a few inches from it.
The tip of her thumb explored the tape of the bandage, and I was annoyed by how soothing her thumb felt. Suddenly, she stopped and let my cock down. Digging into the pocket of her fuzzy pajama bottoms, she pulled out a clear, medium-sized resealable bag and handed it to me. “For your shower,” she said. “Keep this poor guy dry, okay?”
I nodded.
She smiled.
And she kissed it again. It was quick and light, but this time, she came at it from the side, not kissing near the tip, but the root–right where it emerged from my pubic hairs. She rose quickly and looked at me as if daring me to say something, as if she was ready for any challenge to her right as mother to kiss her baby’s booboo.
I didn’t say anything.
She hugged me and left, advising, “Take some painkillers with you and have a good day.”
A few minutes later, I had my first post-puncture piss. When I finished, I was gasping. I was sweating profusely. It had been awful.
Don’t mistake me. It’s not like piss started spraying out of the new hole in my dick. It was the sensation of urine streaking so near the wound that ruined me. The tip hurt, but much worse was the hypersensitivity. The rushing flood was to my injured sex organ like fingernails on a chalkboard to my ears.
***
I grew to almost tolerate pissing as the day wore on, but that night brought on several new problems.
The first was my Dad. During dinner with the whole family gathered around, he spoke to me for the first time since the accident. Very seriously, he turned to me and said, “So, champ, tell me about this new young lady in your life.”
Mom froze, eyeing him warily.
Little Izzy’s eyes went wide. “You have a new girlfriend?” she asked me.
I stammered.
Dad interrupted, “Sure he does, kiddo. Barb, I think, is her name, isn’t it?” Then, he winked at me.
Mom put down her utensils, saying, “Dear!”
Dad erupted in laughter.
Mom’s face went pink. Watching Dad, her lips quivered. Quickly, she covered her face with her napkin, and her shoulders started shaking.
Izzy, sitting beside Mom, laughed because her parents were laughing. Hannah glanced back and forth between Dad and Mom, asking, “What? What?” My oldest sister, Lauren, sighed, shook her head, and continued eating.
Barely recovering from the fit, Dad added, “I hear she bites.” Not a second passed before he lost it. Mom waved her napkin at him twice, struggling to control herself. She looked at me apologetically, but her face was so red that I smiled. When I did, she burst into hooting giggles.
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