My Mother, My Teacher

“Mom, I’m not a boy anymore!”

She smiled, that sly, mischievous, melting, exciting smile.

“Yes, I can see that.” Her eyes were drilled at my crotch, where another uncomfortable erection was bunching in my pants.

“Come here,” she said, not a question, a command so sure and confident I immediately complied. “Wash my back.” Another command. I knelt down and took the wet facecloth, dipped it in the water, and lifted it hot, wet, and dripping onto her back. “Mmm… that feels good,” she said. She hunched her shoulders forward, leaning almost down to her knees. I squeezed water over her back, lay the facecloth open on her back, and washed. She reached behind and handed me a bar of soap. I rubbed the soap into the facecloth and scrubbed. “Use your hands,” she said quietly.

My hands were already slippery with soap and slid easily up and down her back. I washed her carefully, as if it was an important job, and I wanted to do it right. “Use your fingernails,” she whispered, and I did.

“Oh… oh… that… feels… so… goooood!”

She sounded different, and the sound was having its effect on me. I pressed harder, my fingernails leaving visible tracks. I started at the top of her spine and slowly scraped down her back.

“Mmmmm…” she purred.

I stroked my soapy hand back up her side. She sat up a bit, lifted her arm, inviting me further. I pressed my aching erection against the edge of the tub, pushing on it the way I liked to squeeze it. I closed my eyes and let my hand slide up her body. I slowly leaned forward. I soon found the softest skin I had ever felt. I cupped my fingers and let my fingertips press into the edge of her breast. I couldn’t stop and let my hand wrap around until I felt a hard rubbery tip that I knew was her nipple. Everything was so quiet.

Suddenly, I knew she was watching. My eyes flew open and she was smiling, staring at me. I was so embarrassed. I froze as something in the way she was staring at me frightened me. Something inside me knew, knew she was hungry, knew she wanted me to do more. I stood, then slowly backed out of the bathroom, afraid to turn my back on her. When I got to the door, I ran to my room.

It was very quiet. I heard myself breathing hard. “Oh my god!” I thought, “she wants to…” I couldn’t get the image out of my head, her hands touching me, undressing me, stroking me. I didn’t want her to, but at the same time, I wanted her to. I couldn’t help thinking how it would feel, to have someone else put their hands around my cock, someone else stroke up and down. My hand was already around my shaft as I imagined my mother, in her bathtub, hands slippery with soap, reaching up and undoing my belt, my button, my zipper, reaching into my underwear and… I came hard, my cum spurting as waves of pleasure rang through my body. I kept my eyes closed, keeping the fantasy going, until I relaxed and took a deep breath. I looked at myself in the mirror, then smiled when I saw a white blob of cum on the mirror, over three feet away. I cleaned up, then lay in bed to do some homework, but fell hard asleep until morning.