My last class was a 3:00. I had office hours and yes, one outrageously cute freshman had demonstrated her lack of panties while begging for a grade. She was cute enough that my dick was still a bit sore where it had tried to come erect. When DID all of these girls start waxing smooth down there?
I had made some progress on my master’s thesis and aced a test in Constitutional History. Unlike my classmates, I didn’t have to spend every waking moment wondering if I would get laid. I would smile, watching the guys chat up the girls, working on ways to get their panties off. Of course, I knew a lot of them didn’t have any panties anyway.
But now the day was done and I was heading home. I had that delightful mix of anticipation, excitement, and, yes, downright fear as I headed home. Mom can be creative on Tuesday nights.
When I walked in the door I grinned and said, “well look at you.”
She looked like she had just stepped off of the set of the old Donna Reed or Leave it to Beaver show. She was in a bright yellow dress with a wide belt holding her waist very small, that flared around her knees with actual petticoats holding it in that wonderful inverted cone shape. She had on nylons, matching yellow pumps with 3-inch heels, and pearls, a pearl necklace, and a pearl bracelet. He hair was done up on a big bubble around her head and she was made up more dramatically than usual. Her lips were bright red, her eyelids a bright blue, her eyelashes longer and darker than her natural lashes, and her eyebrows had been carefully tweezed.
She looked fucking GOOD!
“Hi mom, I’m home,” I said in my best Wally and the Beav voice.
“Hello honey,” she said, coming to me and giving me a light kiss, “now wash your hands, dinner’s on the table.”
So I dutifully washed my hand, hot water and soap, a slow count to 20 (1 one thousand, 2 one thousand).
The table was already set with dinner of fried chicken, corn on the cob, mashed potatoes and gravy, with iced tea. She never served alcohol on Tuesday. She said she didn’t want my senses dulled.
We ate and talked. I told her of my test and we laughed about how poorly elected officials seemed to understand the constitution. I told her about my cutie wanting a better grade and she asked if that had hurt. We laughed about that too.
After dinner, we did the dishes, as always.
“Time for your bath honey,” she said, taking my hand and leading me into the bedroom.
She started the bath running, adjusting the water temperature, and then came into the bedroom to undress me. When she had my school clothes off and in the hamper, she undid the cock cage. After years of wearng it slipped easily out of my urethra.
“I don’t know what I’d do you you had a bunch of nasty hair here,” she said, giggling and tickling my balls.
I flashed back to the six weeks I had spent a few years ago, returning to the dermatologist every Wednesday to ensure that every hair on my body below the neck was permanently eradicated. So now I stood before her, naked and smooth as a grape.
“Come on honey,” she said, taking my hand and leading me into the bathroom. The tub was full, a thick coat of bubble bath on the surface and my little rubber ducky floating. She held my hand as I stepped into the tub and settled back into the hot water.
When she came back into the bathroom the dress and jewelry were gone. She was barefoot in jeans and a T-shirt. It was a work uniform. And she got to work.
She got to her knees beside the tub, soaped the wash rag, and began scrubbing my face. As she had done all of my life, she was humming a lullaby as she worked on my ears. Then she shampooed my hair, making me giggle as she dipped the big cup she kept in the bathroom for that purpose into the water and ran it over my head, repeatedly, rinsing my hair. She did my body, starting at my feet, making me giggle again as she did piggies on my toes, and worked her way up. She washed my scrotum and erect cock, but that was all, before working her way up my chest, doing each hand, one finger at a time, then my arms and armpits, hairless like the rest of me.
“Okay honey,” she said, giving my arm a pat, “up on all fours.”
I moved around and did as she directed, offering my back, ass, and backs of my legs to be washed. She did my legs and then my back, leaving my ass for last. She washed it, very thoroughly, and then got the luffa sponge out and scrubbed my ass, hard, giving me a twinge of excitement. I knew what that meant. She wanted my skin there to be freshly exfoliated and nerve endings to be as exposed as possible.
Done she pulled the plug from the tub, held my hand as I stepped out, and dried me, briskly, efficiently, paying no attention to my erection standing straight up beyond what was needed to dry it off. She walked me back into the bedroom and had me sit on the edge of the bed.
She made it obvious when she looked at her watch and said, “I’m going to go get ready now. You come down at 7:22.”
I smiled and said, “yes mom.”
She patted my cheek, kissed it, and left.
It was 7:08 and for the next 13 minutes I sat there on the bed, not moving, watching the clock, my anticipation, and odd mixture of fear and excitement, growing.
Finally, at 7:21 by the bed clock, I went into the front room.
She was sitting in her broad armless chair, purchased years ago at a flea market, with her little “accessories table” at her left hand. When I saw what was in it I couldn’t help the low moan that escaped my lips. She smiled and crooked her finger, beckoning me, and then pointing to a spot to her right.
I went to her, my erection going limp as my fear overcame my excitement.
She smiled, lifted my cock and let it fall, and then took my hand and pulled me across her lap.
“I love you, honey,” she said, her hand lightly caressing my freshly exfoliated ass, making me squirm a little.
“I love you, mom,” I said.
I didn’t watch, but rather I felt, when she reached over to the table on her left. I felt her hand spreading my ass cheeks. Then there was the cold wetness as the ginger root she had fashioned into an effective butt plug touched my asshole.
“Relax honey,” she almost cooed, and I relaxed as much as I could.
There was cold and wetness and pressure as she slipped the plug in, and twisted it to make sure it was in place. She kept lightly caressing my ass while she waited for the root to do its work. It was just a few seconds before the cold wetness began changing to warmth and then to heat and then to burning.
I don’t know where she had learned about “figging,” the use of a ginger root in the ass to prevent the person being spanked from clenching his (or her) muscles to protect himself. But she had learned about it and used it about once a month on me. It meant I had to stay relaxed because if I clenched and tightened the burning would get worse and the burning was fucking bad even if I stayed relaxed.
She knew how to administer a spanking. The first stroke wasn’t a slap at all. More like a pat. And between each stroke, each slightly harder than the last, she took the time to caress where she had just hit, and tell me how much she loved me.
I had to count.
By 25 I couldn’t help it, I was squirming and my feet were kicking.
By 30 I was crying, and I was erect again.
By 35 I was bawling, sobbing, tears and snot were puddling on the floor under me, and I was begging her to stop.
My asshole was on fire. My ass was being flayed. My fingers were hooking into claws.
It wasn’t until 63 that I came, spewing semen spectacularly, squeezing, welcoming the fire in my asshole, screaming my ecstasy.
She rubbed my back and my ass very gently as I cried and squirmed and a second spasm took me, squeezing out a few more drops of semen.
When I was finally down to some soft hiccups she parted my cheeks again, pulled the plug from my asshole, and told me to stand.
“Now go stand in the corner honey,” she said, her voice soft, “while I clean up your mess.”
I stood in the corner, still sniffling, tears and snot dripping down my chin onto my chest, while I heard her moving around.
“Okay honey,” she said at last, “come here.”
She was sitting on the couch, the TV on, her latest Netflix favorite on the screen.
I went to her and laid, my head in her lap, looking up as she brushed the hair from my forehead. “You’re such a good boy,” she said, caressing my cheek.
She lifted her T-shirt and offered me her nipple. I took it eagerly, needing her milk to help me calm down.
I nursed her breast dry and she switched, lightly stroking my forehead as she hummed softly and watched her show. Her fingers lightly tickled my cock, bringing me slowly erect.
Her show over and her breast empty she used her finger to break my latch and pushed me off.
We went into the bathroom where she peed and then I peed and we brushed our teeth side by side.
In bed she had me lay on my back, giggling softly when I winced when her weight pushed my sore ass down onto the mattress. She was on me, cowgirl style, and lifted herself to guide me and then settled onto me, impaling herself. She let out a satisfied sigh as she started her hips moving.
“You know,” she said softly, bending to kiss me and then pushing herself back upright, “if you would learn better control I wouldn’t need to spank you empty to get what I need.”
I smiled back and said, “we both know you’d come up with some reason.”
She giggled at that and said, “well, yeah.”
She said nothing more as she started using her hips, adjusting her position slightly so the shaft of my erection gave her the pressure she needed on her clitoris. When she took me like this it took her a long time to achieve her orgasm. But she said it was worth it because it was such a perfect sensation.
I watched her face, loving the way it changed as her excitement built. Just before she came I could see the beautiful prom queen she had once been before her face turned into a rictus of orgasm. Her eyes squeezed shut and her mouth opened wide in a silent scream as she came, hard, feeling almost like she was peeing on me. I played with her tits and nipples, helping to keep it going for her. I could feel four separate waves of her ecstasy, each time her vaginal muscles tightened almost painfully.
Finally, spent, panting, and sweating, she took me over the top. My ejaculation was painful and I knew I was only squeezing out a few drops, but it seemed to satisfy her.
She pulled off as I was softening and stretched out beside me.
I scooted around and rolled onto my side, breathing a soft sigh of relief as the pressure came off of my ass.
I snuggled into her armpit, my lips brushing her breast where it sagged over her side.
“I love you mom,” I said.
But I don’t think she heard me. She was already snoring softly.
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