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.
