Momma s boy

My mother was a school-teacher...raised me on her own, when a dead-beat father left, after she had a double-mastectomy to survive cancer. She had me at eighteen, so when I was fourteen, she was only thirty two, and attractive, at least in my book...she refused to date, after one humiliation with a stupid bastard who declared she "wasn't a real woman" when he discovered her 'condition'... at that time, I was swamped with hormones, and pretty-much constantly erect, and with the 'wants'...
When I confessed this to Mom, she was pragmatic as always. "Maybe we can help each other" she said mysteriously, and gave me my first ever hand-job! My life was never the same after that...I grew utterly addicted to this, very fast, and to my shame threatened to tell on her, unless she kept on doing it, as often as I wanted, which was a LOT!
After a year or so, of that, while I selfishly ignored her 'hints' that there ought to be something in this for HER, one day she informed me we were going to play a 'game' and tied me to my bed! "You've become a greedy, selfish little bastard!" she informed me, and sat on my face! She taught me exactly what she wanted, and threatened ME this time, with keeping me a prisoner in our house, so I couldn't 'rat on her'...I quickly discovered I really loved her new game, and reassured her of my utter compliance and enthusiasm for the way things were going.
"We can never have intercourse" she informed me, but assured me there were many many incredibly exciting alternatives, and proceeded to show me!
Five years later, she had turned me into a totally submissive rubber-bondage freak, by age twenty, and I was so deliriously fulfilled, I cooperated enthusiastically in my own downfall, as guilt drove her to drink, and to ever-more awesome excesses of trauma-less sadism and control, eventually culminating in my long-term and regular confinement in latex and neoprene sleep-sacks, still pleasuring her orally through a strategically-placed zippered opening. There was another one, at my groin, allowing my 'goodies' to be exposed, that zipper being tightened round my roots, keeping me in glorious protrusion, for her wicked fingers, while she made use of my mouth. Now, aged thirty-five, she is still as demanding as ever, and I am still as utterly lost in the spell she weaves around me. I hope she lives to be a hundred, as long as I remain vigorously healthy in the process...I have not ONE regret!

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Jan Family November 05, 2020 at 12:49 pm 1 1