When I was a kid, I developed a urethra stricture. To put it in regular terms, it hurt like hell whenever I tried to pee because the opening of my penis was too small. The doctors assured my parents that when I got older, I could have an operation to make the mouth wider, but at my age, they didn't want to operate on me why I was still growing.
So I ended up wearing diapers for a long time. I also could really only pee comfortably in a warm shower or especially when I was sitting in a warm bathtub.
By the time I was 18, my mother was still a beautiful woman in her late 30s. With her blonde hair and large eyes, she could pass for Emilia Clarke in dragon queen mode. She had given birth to me when she was very young, but because of my medical problems, my dad didn't want to risk having another kid. So while my parents were athletic, out playing tennis almost every day, jogging and skiing and hiking, I had grown up to be a skinny kid, fair like my mother but with shaggy curly brown hair like my dad. People told me I looked a lot like the actor Timothee Chalamet. I looked nothing like my father who could pass for Hugh Jackman in Wolverine gear. No my mother and I were more like twins, Elvin people, fair and thin. My mother though, still stood an inch taller than I was at 18.
I knew my father was disappointed in me. I think his idea of a perfect son would have been my cousin, Joey, who was a towering all star athlete at school. My father started to spend less and less time at home, grabbing every opportunity to travel for work. My mother became depressed as we both wondered if he was having an affair.
One of my father's cruelties was to remind me at every opportunity that I was going to have the urethra operation. Of course, I was terrified of the surgery. I had spent so much time in the hospital as a kid, I really didn't like the idea if having my dick cut open, gutted like a fish to be restitched. My dad would laugh "Almost time to get your dick cut off!" he'd sneer, and my mother would shush him and put a comforting hand on my shoulder.
Unknown to my father, when i turned 18, my mother began a regimen to ease my aches and pain. At night, just before bed, she would fill the bathtub with a bubble bath and lead me by my hand to climb into the tub and soak in the water. While I washed my hair, my arms, my armpits, she would reach under the surface of the water and gently massage my balls and resulting erection until I urinated in the tub. The warm water made it easier to pee and I quickly grew over the embarrassment of having my beautiful mother handle my soapy erection. She would get me to stand while she drained the dirty water. Then she would refill the tub and let me finish my bath.
Other nights, she would enter my room wearing a long satin or silk nightdress in different colors with a sexy slit showing her thighs. I always thought my mother was quiet beautiful. She would walk around my bed and rub my back while I lay on my side and whisper in my ear that I was her big boy, her handsome son. She marveled at the hair on my legs - signs of my maturity - and seemed to take pleasure massaging my feet, remarking how I shed shoe size after shoe size. I was the skinny kid with big feet.
"When you were born," my mother began, "I could fit your little feet in my mouth!" She squeezed my toes. "Now look at you! You are a tall, handsome young man."
After all of this attention, I would be fully erect and whimpering to her that her attentions had spurred me on to a painful boner. She would caress my shoulders and reach down gently squeeze my scrotum and begin to massage my turgid organ slowly, her small hand grasping me, her fingers wrapped around my shaft, her thumb rubbing around the head of my aching erection. It was almost as painful as popping a zit! I felt the pressure build as her hand squeezed and stroked urgently and then there was a split second of pain then pleasure as I violently squirted the first few jets of cum, then, finally relaxed and soft, my organ would dribble the rest of my ejaculate like a leaking garden hose.
As my body relaxed, my mother would fetch towels from my bathroom and wipe me down, then my sheets. I watched her in the darkness of my room, smell her perfume and catch glimpses of her beautiful body from the sheer nightdresses she wore whenever she visited me. She would finish by kissing me on the forehead, then a quick peck on the lips.
One night, a night that my father was out of town, my mother entered my room with a determined stride. I was on my side as usual, the night light on, a book in hand. But instead of gently massaging my back, my mother rolled me over to lie on my back. I looked at her surprised - this position would hurt, I thought. Suddenly my mother got on my bed and laid on top of me, her head on my chest. I felt her hand reach down between us, massaging and squeezing my balls. My reaction was almost immediate. I quickly became erect, but I started to thrash around as it was a painful erection and I wanted to lie back on my side. But my mother pressed her satin body against my chest and continued to pull at my genitals.
"Shhhhh!" she whispered. Out of her pockets, she took out silk strips and she tied my wrists to my headboard.
I wordlessly watched her in shock as she sat astride my stomach to stop me from moving. She rubbed her satin nightdress over my body and balls. When I whimpered with delight, she turned around to sit on my stomach with her back to me using her weight to pin me down as she tickled and massaged my balls all while pulling at my aching erection that quickly became sticky with my precum.
"You're getting to be a big boy," she whispered. "You're as thick as my wrist." She rubbed her forearm against my throbbing length to compare them. I gasped and whimpered as each flex of hardness made me feel as if a pellet of lava was waiting to erupt from the tip of my cock.
