My family consisted of my parents and their four sons. But most of the time, we were really in the company of our mother, because Dad was a naval officer, belonging to the Navy Corps, which is the specialty of those who serve on ships and boats. As a result, he spent a lot of time traveling. And some of the missions sometimes lasted one, two or even more months.
My father had started his career in the Navy as an Aspirant and, receiving the normal promotions, ended up joining the reserve as a Sea and War Captain, a rank corresponding, in the Army hierarchy, to that of Colonel. As a lieutenant, he had married Mom, a really pretty girl with fair skin and blue eyes, who hadn’t even turned eighteen yet. And in just a few years, before she reached the age of twenty-four, she had already become pregnant and had four children.
When I was still a boy, I would occasionally hear my mother saying to my younger brother: “Don’t go through my drawers! You can play there, but don’t open my drawers, I don’t like it!”. The little one would play next to her bed and sometimes decide to open and go through the drawers of the bedside table, as children usually do.
But there was one day when, looking for a pair of scissors or something, I ended up opening and rummaging through her drawers. In one of them, I found a beige plastic object, cylindrical and with a kind of switch at the base, which I didn’t understand what it was for. I didn’t understand and I didn’t ask either, because it didn’t pique my interest.
Many years later, I was the only one of the children still living at home, well into my twenties, but still single, unlike my three brothers, two married and one, the youngest, studying abroad. So I went through her drawers looking for something and came across that dildo again, which I now knew what it was and what it was for.
Perhaps that’s why finding that accessory on my mother’s bedside table gave me a different, stronger and somewhat exciting sensation. The fact is that most men don’t usually think of their mother as a woman, as female, as someone who has sex, feels carnal desires and enjoys it like any other. Rationally, everyone knows this, but because of emotional ties, it’s as if there’s a block to thinking about these things in relation to one’s mother.
However, when I came across an object of such intimate use of my own mother, it was as if this block had been broken and certain doubts about her sex life began to occupy my thoughts with some frequency. Stranger still, these thoughts excited me and I began to have erotic fantasies about her.
In this respect, my biggest curiosity was about her sexual satisfaction or dissatisfaction, with my father spending so much time away from home and her having to resort to a plastic dildo to pleasure and relieve herself sexually. Was that enough for her or was that just one of the resources she had to keep herself satisfied while her husband was away? After all, despite having four children, she was still a beautiful and attractive woman.
My mother and I always talked a lot about anything and, when I reached my teens, she told me – as I believe she also told my siblings – that anything and everything I wanted to know about sex, I could ask her, because she preferred me to learn the right way. And I asked her one thing or another and, as far as I can remember, she never shied away from any of my questions.
Then, one day when it was just the two of us at home, I reminded her of this and told her that, from time to time, I was still plagued by doubts and wanted to ask her again. She smiled and told me that if it was something she knew how to answer, our deal would remain the same: I could ask and she would answer. Then I was more specific:
- Just, Mom, that it’s something more intimate… About your intimacy. Can I still ask?
She looked at me for a moment, as if trying to guess what was going on in my head. Then she said she didn’t know if she was going to answer, but if it was something that was bothering me, I should ask anyway. So I asked, choosing my words, afraid that she would get angry with me:
- Mom, you’re a very beautiful, attractive woman and you’re still young. But Dad travels all the time and sometimes takes a long time to come home… Do you think you have a satisfactory sex life with him?
Her first reaction was as if she had been startled. But she answered nonetheless:
- This is a very strange conversation for a son to have with his mother, don’t you think? I don’t know why you’re worried about it, but I’ll answer you anyway: yes, I love your father very much and he satisfies me sexually.
I asked again, explaining that I didn’t doubt that they had a good relationship in bed or that she loved him. What I wanted to know was whether she had as much sex as she wanted. And when she said yes, I ventured into more complicated territory.
I talked about the dildo I’d seen on her bedside table by chance. I commented that it didn’t even look like a real penis. I also said that if it helped her feel pleasure and release sexual tension, she should at least buy a different model, one of those that are exact reproductions of a real penis.
By this point, our conversation was flowing freely and she no longer seemed so uncomfortable about discussing such a subject with her own son. She then explained to me that she had won “it” from a friend, but that she herself wouldn’t have the courage to go into a store specializing in that type of product, because she would die of shame. I told her that, if she wanted, I could buy it for her myself. All she had to do was give me an idea of the size and thickness she wanted. A little awkwardly, my mother replied:
- I don’t know. I don’t know about those kinds of measurements. But I know I don’t want it too big, so I don’t hurt myself. If it was like your father’s, that would be the ideal size for me!
Trying to appear natural in the conversation, I told him that the times I’d seen my father without his clothes on or changing his clothes, his cock wasn’t hard and that the measurements of these dildos are established taking into account the size of the cock during an erection. So I took a chance:
- Mom, if you saw mine, you could get a better idea: if it’s that size, if you want it bigger or prefer it smaller. Can I show you?
She choked a little to answer. A situation like this had probably never crossed her mind. Her face reddened, but I could clearly see that this had aroused her curiosity. And, of course, having a conversation like that with my own mother, I was already aroused too! I stood in front of her, pulled down my shorts and showed her my already hard cock, so that she could get an idea of its size and thickness.
My mother stared at my fully hard penis and I realized that her lips were dry from the tension of that moment. So I said something to her, which had nothing to do with the dildo I was going to buy for her. But I couldn’t resist the chance to do it:
- If you want, you can take it, Mom… To feel the consistency and find out if it’s OK for you. That way, you’ll have a better idea of what you want.
A little hesitantly, but also excited, as I could tell, she ended up putting her hand on my cock. She touched it with her fingers, smoothed it, then held it around her, squeezed it a little and even made a slight masturbatory movement on me, two or three times. Then she stopped herself, withdrew her hand and said, without looking me directly in the eye: “That’s good… You can do it just like that”!
My heart was racing! I wanted to ask her to keep jerking off until I came in her hands. But I preferred not to force the issue, lest I ruin that special moment. So, after that conversation – a really strange thing to happen between a mother and her son – I went to my room and had a wonderful blowjob, remembering her hands holding, squeezing and smoothing my cock.
The next day, I went to a sex shop and chose a dildo that looked like the real thing, in shape, color and details, the closest to my cock I could find. When I got home, I called her into my room and handed her the package, saying:
- There you are, Mom, just the way you wanted it. I think you should keep it in a discreet place and apply a gel to it before you use it. Or use a condom, because it’s bigger and thicker than the other one.
A little miffed that she was returning to that subject with me, she thanked me, gave me a quick kiss on the cheek and went to her room. We never talked about her sexual intimacy again, but I was always very curious to know if, when she used that vinyl penis, she remembered the model she had used to make her choice. Or if she ever came with it, imagining that “it” was me.
For my part, I won’t deny it: I masturbated and came several times remembering that conversation and, above all, the way my mother decided on the size and thickness of the dildo she wanted and I bought it for her.
