I had just finished putting my son, Mark, back in his crib for a nap. He was a good baby, now nearly a year old. I was debating whether to wean him soon. Breast-feeding has a lot of advantages for a stay-at-home mother, and the benefits to my son Mark were obvious. He'd never had a cold or an ear infection. My husband, Bill, had died shortly after Mark was born the victim of a drunk driving accident. Mark had Bill's blue eyes, and I enjoyed looking into them when he nursed.
Despite having grown considerably in a year, Mark still wasn't able to use all of the milk I was producing, so I pumped out the excess and saved it for an emergency. At 5' 10" tall, my large breasts were producing a river of milk. I'd always heard stories that small-breasted women produce as much milk as large breasted ones. I don't believe it.
Bill had been an executive with a computer company here in Houston. Between his stock and insurance Mark and I were set for life, but no amount of money could make up for the loss of Bill. I had been a registered nurse before quitting when I got pregnant. Perhaps someday I'll go back to work, but not now.
In addition to caring for Mark, I had the issue of Bobby to deal with. He had been orphaned at 16, and Bill had suggested we take him in. He had no close relatives anywhere near Houston. He was a good boy, though sickly with asthma that had gotten worse despite the best of medical care. He was 18 now, but only 5' 6'' tall. Being sick so much had made him introverted, and I wondered how he would fare when he went off to college next fall. I wished that there were something I could do to help him regain his health.
Bobby had been out on a date last night, and I had gone to bed before he arrived home. He was a responsible kid, so I wasn't worried about him. Nevertheless, I was eager to hear how his date went. As I opened the Sunday paper I could here him getting out of bed.
"Good morning, Brenda", he said softly as he walked to the kitchen for a cup of coffee. He wasn't his usual cheerful self. Even though he was shy, he nearly always had an air of optimism surrounding him. My guess was that the date didn't go well. Nothing is more traumatic to an 18-year-old male than a bad date.
"Would you like some eggs?" I asked, not wanting to probe directly. Even though I was 10 years older than he was, I was more like a sister than a parent.
"O.K.", he replied, sadly, not looking me in the eye. He reached for the sports page and sat at the kitchen table as I started to make breakfast. As I scrambled some eggs he pretended to read the paper, but I could see he wasn't really reading it.
"Are you feeling all right", I asked, handing him eggs and some whole-wheat toast. I went to the refrigerator and poured some orange juice. I sat down across from him and began to eat my eggs.
Finally he looked up. "I had an asthma attack on my date with Patti." he said, "It was awful".
"I'm sorry." I replied, "but I'm sure she'll understand that you can't help it."
"I don't think so.," he said softly, 'It's happened before."
His attacks were usually triggered by too much physical exertion, so I was surprised since they had planned on going to a movie. "What happened?" I asked, not thinking.
He blushed. "I don't want to talk about It." he stammered, toying with his now cold eggs. "It's too embarrassing".
Patti was a pretty classmate of his. They had been dating for a couple of months. "Bobby, it's O.K.", I said, "I'm pretty sure I know what happened".
He slumped in his chair. "Oh great." He said sarcastically,
I remembered from my days as a nurse that some asthmatics would have attacks triggered by the exertion and excitement of having sex. It had never occurred to me that this might happen to him so I never discussed the possibility. "You and Patti were having sex when you had an attack before you were finished".
"Worse." he said, looking up at me, "we never really even got started. It was a disaster".
'Bobby, I'm a trained nurse, maybe I can help." Bobby new about my nursing background, but what he didn't know was that I worked my way through UCLA by giving erotic massages out of an apartment in Santa Monica. I had a lot of experience with men's sexual response at a pretty detailed technical level. "Tell me what happened", I said, "Let me help."
"I can't talk about something like this with you", he stammered, blushing yet again. Bobby's parents were strict fundamentalist Christians, so sex was not likely a common topic of discussion. This wasn't going to be easy, but I had to diagnose the severity of the problem.
"Bobby, this is important." I insisted, "It is important to be able to enjoy intimacy. I want you to be successful in this area. It is an important part of being an adult"
He started eating his eggs. I continued eating some toast. I waited. Finally he began to speak.
"After the movie we went over to her house. Her parents were gone to the shore for the weekend. We started making out on the living room couch and one thing led to another." he said, "And I began getting short of breath and coughing bad. We had to stop. When I caught my breath we tried again and the same thing happened, so I left."
"Exactly what were you doing when the symptoms appeared", I asked.
"I can't", he blushed again.
"Yes you can." I said, "If you want me to help."
More silence. Finally he began to speak again, not looking me in the eye. "We were undressed down to our shorts. We were kissing and I was feeling her bare breasts. She said she wasn't ready to do it with me but she'd play with me. She started and that's when the attack started."
"So the excitement of having Patti jerking you off brought on the attack", I said.
"I guess so." he replied sheepishly.
"Is that as far as you've ever gotten with a girl." I asked.
"Yeah, the same thing happened last year with Jamie." he added.
I knew his asthma was bad, but this was really alarming. I had to know more. "Have you ever had an attack while jerking yourself off?" I asked. "And all guys jerk off, so don't tell me you don't!"
He turned red again. "I don't believe I'm telling you this..." he said. "I've never been able to finish before having an attack."
"You mean you've never been able to ejaculate, you know, cum.", I asked.