Over the next week I was doing everything I could to avoid looking at my mom. Even when she was wearing normal clothes, all I wanted was for them to be crumpled up on the floor at the foot of the bed while I railed her. It got to the point where she started to notice. She sat me down and tried to talk to me about why I was acting strange, but I just lied and told her I hadn’t been feeling well. She didn’t press the issue because she could tell I didn’t want to talk about it.
About two weeks after I burst into the bathroom, in a pretty important game, I was knocked out of the air when I was going for a big dunk. I came down hard on my hands and broke both of my wrists. We rushed to the hospital. When all was said and done, I had to have casts put on both hands, and it could take anywhere from eight weeks to six months to heal. I found out later that we won the game, but I was going to be done for the season. It was pretty devastating.
Because of the pain and mediation, I stayed home from school for a that first week. With my hands wrapped up, it was extremely difficult to shower, so for the first couple of days, I just didn’t. By the third day, I couldn’t stand the smell any more, so I wrapped my hands in grocery bags and got into the shower. I did everything I could to hold the soap in my fingers through the bags, but I just couldn’t effectively clean myself.
“Mom,” I called out, “can you come here?” A moment later she poker her head into the bathroom and I poked my head out of the curtain. “I can’t do this. I need your help.”
“Sure thing,babe” she replied. Wearing a black and pink sports bra and matching yoga pants my mom walked into the bathroom and pulled back the curtain. Instinctually, I covered my crotch with my bag covered hands. She grabbed the soap and began lathering up all over my body.
“Umm…do you want me to get your…?” she asked pointing at my junk. I could tell there was a little trepidation in her voice. It seemed like she was worried about how uncomfortable I might be. I thought for a moment. It wasn’t strange to have her clean my cock and balls. She did it all the time when I was a child. It would only be awkward If I made it that way. I wordlessly nodded and moved my hand. My six inch flaccid dick and balls hung there beneath a neatly trimmed patch of black hair.
I closed my eyes and tried to think of anything I could other than the soft hands fondling and soaping my shaft and sack. I grew about an inch in her hand as she worked the soap into my skin. I felt my shaft hardening more just as she stopped. Finished with the soap, she washed my hair. Once I was all rinsed off, she helped me get dry and left me to get dressed on my own.
We did this daily for about two weeks. After a couple of days of getting her clothes and the floor all wet, Mom started wearing her bikini in the shower with me. She was making it extremely difficult to stay flaccid. Everyday, we would get in the shower and she would lather me up from head to toe.
At the end of that second week, things got really interesting. We were in the shower and she was soaping my sack. I’m not sure what happened, but I got fully erect almost instantly, and I recoiled at her touch. I felt a soreness in my balls that I hadn’t experienced before. Then, it hit me. I had not masterbated in almost a month. My mom’s face shone her concern.