“I will–I won’t–forget, I mean.”
***
Dad was on a business trip for the next few days, so I was relieved that I would not be subject to his wisecracks during dinner. Still, table conversation at dinner was a tad boring without him.
Afterward, Mom asked me to meet her in the master bathroom. Smiling, she said, “I found something at the doctor’s office today that I think might help.”
Standing beside the vanity, I watched her get on her knees in front of me. Her delicate fingers unhooked my belt, unbuttoned my jeans, unzipped them, and drew down my pants and underwear. The same bandage she had applied to my dick in the morning was there, looking clean and well-kept.
“No erection today?” she asked, looking up at me.
I shook my head.
“This looks good,” she said. “I don’t think there’s any need to change it.” Her fingers took the shaft and raised it. She looked it over. “Feeling okay?”
“Yeah.”
“Any pain?”
“Not much.”
“Trouble urinating?”
“No.”
“Any problems with your testicles?” she asked, and her palm cupped my scrotum.
I drew in a sharp breath and shook my head.
“Because,” she explained, “they could get an infection from this, too.”
“They’re good.”
She released them, sliding her fingers very lightly over the sensitive skin. Then, she shook her head as if there was nothing else for her to do.
I didn’t want it to end. “Is–does the rest of it feel okay to you,” I asked.
Mom’s fingers slid over the shaft. She lifted it and ran her thumb back and forth along the side as she looked it over. “Yes,” she said, “I think you’re okay.”
Our eyes met.
She gave me a sympathetic smile and asked, “Okay?”
I nodded.
“Aw,” she murmured in that doting, motherly way, “there’s my strong, handsome boy–getting all better.” Then, approaching from the side again, she kissed the root of my cock with that “mmm-wu” sound, only this time, I felt her lips latch onto the flesh for the teensiest fraction of a second before pulling back.
Standing, her eyebrows rose high, “Oh, I almost forgot!” She spun and bent over her bin to dig out something. Facing me again, she held it up.
It was a roll of white medical tape, only it was crinkled–scrunched up.
“This,” she proclaimed, “is flexible medical tape. It expands and contracts, and even better, it won’t fall off.” She handed it to me.
I felt it–soft and pliable. I peeled the edge back and felt the adhesive. Grabby, but not too sticky. “Okay,” I said.
“Here’s the thing. The nurse told me how you put it on. She said if it was going over your knee, then the tape works the best when it is applied as the knee is fully bent. So, you stretch the tape out and stick it on, and when you extend your leg, it scrunches up but stays put.”
“Okay.”
“So,” she said, rolling her eyes with a mixture of embarrassment and mirth, “you’ll put it on your penis when it’s hard, you see?”
“Oh, right,” I said, feeling my face get warm.
“And that way, when it gets soft again, the bandage stays put.”
“Okay.”
“And this tape can go back and forth–hard-soft-hard-soft–and it will stay put just as if it were on a bending knee.”
wpDiscuz