Today is my seventeenth birthday. It should be a joyous occasion. But instead, I’m watching a pile of leaves being blown up the street as depression eats away at me. It’s now four days into the autumn half-term holiday and I’ve spent the last three days sitting here in my room.
It happened Saturday afternoon while playing football with my friends. During a mêlée on the goal line, my hands were trodden on, injuring them both. So here I am, three days later, sitting in my bedroom staring out the window. I look down at my hands. Both bandaged - the right hand, broken and very painful, the left just bruised and swollen.
I leave the window and sit down on my bed. Just as I do, my mother bursts into my bedroom singing at the top of her voice, “Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday dear-“
“For Chrissake!” I scream. “I’m seventeen. I’m not a baby anymore!”
“I don’t care how old you are, darling,” she replies in a silly voice as though talking to a baby. “You’re still a little bubby boy in my eyes.”
She’s always acting this way. She’s a teenager trapped inside a thirty-eight-year-old woman’s body. She’s absolutely bonkers. Usually, I’d find it funny, but today I’m really not in the mood.
“So what’s the birthday boy got planned for today?” she asks as she sits down next to me on my bed.
“Absolutely nothing, Mum,” I reply with a quiver in my voice, holding back tears.
She can see I’m upset. She gives me a big hug, burying my face in her plump breasts. “Don’t get upset, darling, not on your birthday,” Mum says as she strokes the back of my head. “So you’re spending your birthday with me. It can’t be that bad, can it? I promise I’ll do everything I can to make today the best birthday you’ve ever had.”
I pull away from her embrace. “And how are going to do that?” I ask with a sceptical look on my face.
“You’ll be surprised what I can do. Now get yourself together and let’s get your best clothes on. You’re not moping around the house all day on your birthday. Come on, I’ll take you out for lunch and after you can take a bath. It must be a good few days since you last had a wash. You’ll be stinking up the place soon.”
“I’ll sit in the bath, but I won’t be doing much washing. Not with my hands in this state,” I reply, shaking my head.
“Yes, well, I can help you with that. I’m quite capable of washing you while you’re in the bath,” Mum informs me, sounding strangely overenthusiastic about it.
Did my mother just say she was going to wash me in the bath? My life has just got worse!
~~~
Mum and I have eaten out at a lovely restaurant and are now on the drive home. I turn to Mum and ask, “What are we going to do for the rest of the day?”
“What do you want to do, honey?”
I know what I would like to do: relieve myself with a good old wank. But since my hands are all busted up that’s not an option. It’s been five days now since I last wanked and I’m beginning to feel an unbearable urge to relieve the pressure building in my balls.
“There’s not much I can do,” I reply with a hint of sadness in my voice. “I can’t use my laptop, or play my new Ps3 games I got for my birthday – not with my hands all bandaged up.”
“Look, darling, I know what boys your age like. There’re things I can do for you that you can only dream of. When we get home, you can lie back, relax, and let Mummy do her thing.”
That sounded strange. What on earth did she mean by that?
~~~
As soon as we arrive home Mum’s straight down to business. “Sit on the stairs, darling,” she demands, closing the door.
I sit down on the hallway stairs. She removes her flip-flops and kneels down in front of me and slips off my shoes and socks. She then motions with her hands indicating for me to stand up. We both stand up at the same time. She grabs my shirt and lifts it off over my head, being careful not to hurt my injured hands, then drops it to the floor. Before I can query her on why she’s removed my shirt, I feel my trousers and underpants fly down my legs and hit my ankles.
“Jesus Christ, Mum!” I shout as I use my bandaged hands to try and cover my flaccid penis.
“Oh, don’t be such a baby,” she says, trying not to giggle.
“Now step out of those pants and come on upstairs. I’ll run you a bath. Your face when I pulled your pants down – it really was a picture.”
Mum walks up the stairs first and I follow, still trying to cover my intimate parts.
“Take your hands away from your wiener,” she demands in an irritated voice as she reaches the top of the stairs and looks back at me. “It’s nothing to feel awkward about. I’m your mother, for crying out loud. If you can’t show it to me then who can you show it to?”
“Yes, but I’m seventeen, Mum,” I say, as we enter the bathroom and she begins running the bath.
“It’s not that bad, is it? Me, seeing your willy?” Mum laughs as she pours bubble-bath into the bathtub. "Just relax and enjoy yourself.”
There’s an awkward silence as the bath fills, then Mum says, “There you go, jump in. And for heaven’s sake, take that hand away from your dinky.”
Mum stands as I shuffle towards the bath. As I’m passing her, she gives me a gentle smack on the backside. I let out an “argh” as Mum’s hand smacking my bottom shocks the hell out of me. I can feel my heart thumping in my chest as I lift a leg and step into the bath.
Fucking hell! Did she just slap my bottom? What has gotten into her? I think she’s lost the plot.
As I sink into the bathtub the warm water and the bubbles engulf my body and I suddenly feel relaxed and warm.
Mum leaves the bathroom and returns a few seconds later carrying a stool from my bedroom. She places it at the bottom end of the bath, sits down on it and pats the edge of the bathtub with her hands. “Come on, let’s have those tootsies up here.”
“Why?” I ask with a confused look on my face.
“So I can give you a foot rub,” she replies. “I used to rub your feet all the time when you were little. You enjoyed it then and I’m sure you will now. Come on, let Mummy cheer you up.”
I do recall Mum’s foot rubs feeling really nice. I decide that I’ll give it a try and place my right foot up on the bottom edge of the tub. Mum squirts shower gel into her hands and then goes to work on my foot.
I feel her thumbs push into the heel of my foot and then slowly work their way up the sole of my foot. Her thumbs are going round in a circular motion on the ball of my foot, very slowly, applying just the right amount of pressure.
I suddenly feel euphoric as all the pent-up stress leaves my body. It’s really soothing and strangely…erotic?
I don’t remember Mum’s foot rubs ever feeling like this before.
I feel a stirring in my groin, a tingling sensation that I’ve felt so many times before. It’s an incredible feeling, overwhelming me with relaxation. Then, to my surprise, I feel strangely…
I think I’m becoming aroused.
I suddenly feel my penis begin to swell. I move the bubbles to try and hide my erection as I can feel it getting harder by the second. I close my eyes and try to savour the moment as Mum rubs my foot.
Oh, God! It feels exquisite! It’s a glorious feeling, an orgasmic sensation that’s making me feel…
“Okay, honey. Let’s do the other one,” Mum says, as she places my right foot back in the water.
I lift my left foot as Mum squirts more shower gel onto her hands and goes to work on my other foot.
“Does that feel nice, darling?” I hear Mum ask in a gentle tone.
“Y-y-yes. It feels amazing, Mum.”
“Good. You just relax and let Mummy make you all better.”
‘Make me feel all better’? Christ, you’re doing more than that, Mum!
My cock’s so stiff now I can almost feel it throbbing. All that pent-up semen from five days of neglect is now bursting to come to the surface.
Oh, Jesus! My mum’s making me unbearably horny. This can’t be normal, can it?
“Wow! You really are enjoying this foot rub. You okay there, darling?”
I smile and nod.
I then close my eyes tight and whisper, “That feels incredible, Mum.”
Mum then places my foot back in the bath. The tingling sensation that was shooting up my leg begins to subside. I open my eyes and look at Mum. I’m a little disappointed that she has stopped.
“See, I told you I could do things that you’d enjoy,” Mum says with a smile, as she gets up off her stool and kneels down at the top end of the tub.
Mum dips a hand in the tub and uses the tips of her fingers to gently caress the top of my thigh. As her fingers are going up and down my leg, I can’t help but notice that as she’s reaching the top her hand is coming very close to my penis, which is still rock hard. I’m so fucking horny now I could burst.
“You looked like you enjoyed that foot massage, darling. Did you find it…stimulating, in any way?” Mum whispers, as she caresses my leg and stares me in the eye.
“Yeah, I suppose. Maybe a little,” I reply shyly.
“That’s interesting,” she says softly. “That means your feet are one of your erogenous zones. Now that I know that, I can massage your feet more often. I’m pretty sure I could find another of your erogenous zones...if you’d let me.”
Oh my God! Where is this leading?
“I can imagine that having your hands all bandaged up like that, makes it quite difficult to…you know,” Mum whispers.
Oh, fuck! Is she talking about…?
“It’s nothing to be embarrassed about, darling. It’s a perfectly natural thing to do, especially at your age. I’m thirty-eight years old and I still do it occasionally.”
“Yeah, I know what you mean,” I reply nervously. “But that’s nothing you can help me with though, is it?”
Mum gives me a little smile and shrugs her shoulders. “I mean, it’s no big deal, really,” Mum whispers. “It’s just a case of grabbing hold of it and giving it a good rub.”
My front teeth bite into my bottom lip as I look at Mum and smile.
“How often do you rub your willy?” Mum asks with a cheeky grin on her face.
I don’t reply because as soon as Mum says that I feel her hand rest on my stiff cock. She stares at me to gauge my reaction. I smile at her nervously. I then feel her hand begin to move up and down, very gently as she rubs my hard penis with the palm of her hand. Her left hand then dips into the water and she cradles my scrotum. She begins to fondle my balls as her right hand continues to grind against my cock.
