Helpless for the Summer – Chapter 4
If things weren’t weird enough, getting spoon-fed by Mom was weird all on its own. This evening she fixed some fish-sticks, macaroni and cheese, and spinach. By suppertime, I’d given up completely on trying to use my hands for anything. Even wiggling my fingers hurts like a son-of-a-gun. So, Mom fed me my food a bite at a time at the same time she ate. I guess there’s a small part of me that liked her putting the spoon to my lips, but most of me can hardly wait for my wrists to heal enough to feed myself.
After Mom finished cleaning up from dinner, she said, “I could really stand a break about now, Kel. I’m going to find something to watch in my bedroom.”
I couldn’t manage the remote control so, watching something in the living room by myself was out of the question, and what was I going to do in my own room? My face must have given my predicament away. She added, “Come on, let’s see if we can find something we’ll both like.”
While Mom’s TV is slightly smaller than the TV in the living room, her bed is tons more comfortable than the old, worn cushions on our couch. There’s hardly anything I’ll miss once my wrists are healed, but watching TV in Mom’s room is something I’ll miss.
This summer was shaping up to be so different from anything else I’ve ever known. Last year, I was riding my bike all around, hanging out with my friends who lived a couple of miles away and just having fun. Today, Mom and I hung out together. She read to me after breakfast, we watched some of her soaps in the afternoon, and now, after dinner, we were going to watch a movie; me in my diaper and her in just her tank top and panties. At one point, she mentioned about how bad she felt about me having to wear these darned wrist braces and diaper. I think the reason she didn’t get dressed was so I wouldn’t feel so bad. And in truth, it kind of helped, after I got used to seeing her in panties and tank-top.
After the movie ended and the credits started rolling, Mom turned her TV off, “Okay, Kel, time for the worst part of the day. Bath time!”
I groaned and rolled onto my side, facing away from her. I hadn’t been looking forward to a bath at all. Some of it was because I just didn’t like baths; let me take a shower over a bath any day. After all, baths are for little kids. I tried not to think about how I really felt like a little kid right then, dressed in nothing but a diaper, not even able to move my hands without them hurting. The other part I didn’t want to think about was getting naked for Mom again. Even though she already had to take the diaper off twice now so I could pee, I still wasn’t comfortable with it.
Mom rolled off the bed and came around to the side I was on, “Do you need to pee or poop before your bath?”
I thought I could take the kids for a swim, as some of my friends liked to refer to taking a dump, “Yeah, I guess.”
“You dry right now?”
Mom’s eyes roamed across me, like an inspector, “Probably easier to take the diaper off here. But it’s your call.”
Being naked in front of Mom still felt incredibly weird, but if I didn’t make a big deal out of it, maybe my body would behave. I bit back a sigh, “Here’s fine.”
Mom grabbed the changing pad, which she had stored under the bed. I rolled onto it and spread my legs. Not that I wanted to, but having heard Mom tell me to a couple of times already, I was getting familiar with the drill. Mom grabbed the rubber pants and pulled them off, then removed the safety pins holding the cloth corners together. When she pulled the front of the diaper down, in my mind I begged and pleaded for my penis to stay soft. For now, it listened to me.
Mom patted my hip, “Already Kel, to the bathroom.”
I practically ran to the bathroom, stark naked while Mom put the changing stuff away. I was about finished with my business on the toilet when she came in and started filling the tub.
Wishing I could take care of my own shit, I mumbled, “I’m done.”
Mom pulled some toilet paper from the roll and said, “Why don’t you bend over at the waist, Kel? Maybe I can wipe you here.”
The soft toilet paper inside my butt-crack tickled, and despite my best effort, I giggled. While I doubted this would get me as clean as when she had me on the changing pad, I was about to get in the tub, so I doubted it would matter.
Mom grabbed some more TP, and I giggled again when she wiped me again. I think it was an accident, but her finger brushed the bottom of my nut sack and all my effort to keep myself from getting hard went out the window.
When I stood up, I turned to face away from Mom. She said, “Hold up, Kel. Dr. Peters said we should take the wrist braces off at bath time. Let me take them off for you.”
Reluctantly, I turned and stretched my hand out. I guess this was the third time Mom saw me hard. But it didn’t make it one bit better. As she gently slid the brace from my wrist, I twisted my hips, trying to angle it so she wouldn’t see my erection pointing toward the ceiling. It was all for nothing. After pulling my second brace off, she swatted my butt and said, “Boys.”
My face was beet-red when I stepped into the nearly-hot water. It wasn’t so much that what she said bothered me. No, it was the fact that my body seemed to be at war with me. I sank into a sitting position, facing away from Mom, toward the tub’s inner wall.
Mom picked up the bar of soap, “Let’s get your back first.”
Already facing away from her, I bobbed my head. Mom’s soaped-up hands were soft as she ran them over my back. I hunched over and enjoyed the light tingling running up and down my spine from her slick, soapy touch. Maybe letting Mom bathe me wasn’t the worst thing. If I had realized how nice it felt for her hands to wash my back, I might have asked her to wash my back before now. She seemed really cool about it, I couldn’t help wondering if I’d been missing out.
From my back, her hands shifted to my arms. She was especially gentle when her hands practically glided over my wrists. Then, she picked up my left arm, and soaped my upper arms and then slid her fingers against my pits, which she tickled. Involuntarily I jerked my hand down as I laughed, “Ahh!”
I should have learned my lesson. When she washed my right arm, she did the same thing. “S-, stop,” I squealed, “That tickles!”
Finished with my arms, Mom reached around my chest and pulled me out of hunching over, almost like she was hugging me, “Come on, baby. We’ve gotta get the front now.”
All the touching and tickling almost made me forget about my stiffy, which hadn’t gone away. But I tried to ignore the fact that if Mom looked down my front, that she would see it pointing up. She washed my shoulders and then my chest, working her way down my front until her hands found my bellybutton. As a finger played with my bellybutton, my penis twitched just above the waterline. I felt really conflicted. I was totally exposed to her and if she was looking down, she’d see my quivering stiffy. But her hands felt great on me.
I sucked in a breath of air. From my bellybutton, her fingers worked their way lower.
Honesty, even to yourself, is hard. Given a choice between spoon-feeding Kelly or having to change his diaper, I realized this evening I’d far rather change his diaper than spoon-feed him. Oh, I love him more than words can express, but holding up a spoon to his lips is going to get old pretty quick.
I know I should dread changing his diaper, but I can’t deny Kelly is a beautiful boy. And the sight of him naked has affected me in ways I hadn’t expected. It seemed like every time I changed him, his penis would spring to attention. Perhaps I’m biased, but there’s nothing more beautiful that a circumcised boy’s erection. Kelly’s glans was gorgeously symmetric, topping nearly four inches of perfectly formed shaft. And I felt terrible for thinking those things. After all, Kelly was my son and were it not for the accident and the wrist braces, I would have remained completely oblivious to the marvelous changes his body was beginning to undergo.
Despite sorting through where our boundaries should be, I invited him to watch a movie with me in my bedroom after dinner. In the past, that had been my time of solitude when Kelly would watch TV in the living room or play with his toy soldiers in his bedroom. Kelly started the movie lying on the other side of the bed, his arms resting on his stomach. But after an intense scene, his head rested against my shoulder. The closeness left me confused. I suppose it was because I couldn’t get the image of his four-and-a-half-inch penis out of my mind.
What kind of mother dwells on her son’s body? That thought sent me down a rabbit hole of past conversations with some women I work with at the school. A bunch of thirty- and forty-something-year-old women actually spend more time than most of us would care to admit, admiring the bodies of some of the boys in our school. But that was just talk. Right?
I knew I could never admit to those thoughts, but day two of our misadventures had been a day unlike any other I’d ever had with Kelly. It was completely unscripted and impromptu. Thinking back on it, it was around lunch time when I realized I was still in my panties and tank-top, and by that time, I figured it was so late and Kelly didn’t seem to mind, I just didn’t see any point getting dressed. After that, I felt so liberated just hanging out in my underwear and Kelly certainly didn’t seem to mind, especially when he was wearing just a diaper.
Once the movie was over, I leaned over and sniffed Kelly. He had that unmistakable smell of boy. He hadn’t showered in a couple of days, and even as uncomfortable as it might make him, I couldn’t justify letting him go another day.
Once he was in the bathtub, I had him face away from me as I lathered up a bar of soap and started working on cleaning his back. As my hands felt his soft skin, I realized I hadn’t given him a bath since kindergarten. He actually purred as my soapy hand caressed his spine. I think he enjoyed it every bit as much as I. I felt a moment’s anger at those people who told me the proper way to raise my son was to ween him off my helping him in the bathtub as soon as possible. They had cheated me out of years of baths when I could have enjoyed giving him lots more baths. At least we have the next six weeks.
I pulled Kelly back, resting his head on my shoulder, when it was time to wash his front. His shoulders held a wiriness, a hint of more muscles to come. My soapy hands caressed his chest. Part of me knew I needed to be fast and efficient, but I didn’t want to. My hands massaged his undeveloped muscles, even tweaking his immature boyish nipples until the tiny nubs grew erect under my touch. Glancing down, it wasn’t just Kelly’s nipples that were hard. His penis pointed upward from his crotch. My thoughts went back to how incredibly soft his skin felt over the blood-fueled hardness of his penis’s muscles.
I pushed the thoughts from my mind as I worked my way slowly down his chest, eventually working a finger into his inward-facing belly button. He giggled at the touch while I relished the tingling in my fingers. I let my fingers go a bit lower, stopping at his lower abdomen. Part of me wanted to go lower, and intellectually, I knew Kelly couldn’t go six weeks without washing his penis. But deliberately touching him there—that wasn’t something moms usually did.
As the battle of desires waged inside my head, I didn’t realize what my fingers were doing until my index finger touched the base of his erection, where his penis met his pubic bone. He was rock hard. We both jumped at the touch. I blurted, “Sorry about that, Kel.”
Kelly’s breaths came in quick shallow gasps, “Ahhh, it… It’s okay. I, um, didn’t see that coming.”
I knew I should stop there. Nothing good would come of touching him further. I don’t know what I was thinking when I said, “You normally clean yourself down there when you shower, right?”
His breathing remained irregular and fast, “Um, yeah.”
My mouth and brain were disconnected. “Is it-, is it okay if I clean it for you? At least until you can do it yourself.”
Kelly stopped breathing. The only sign he heard me was the twitch in his penis. After a few heartbeats he murmured, “Um, yeah. I guess.”
A rapidly shrinking voice of reason warned me against touching him. But I didn’t listen. I lathered my hands again and then ran my sudsy hand across Kelly’s pubic area, making sure to brush my fingers over his boner. Then I encircled his erection with my fingers. I hadn’t touched a guy on his junk since I was with Kelly’s dad. It had been way too many years. But I sure hadn’t forgotten how to hold a boy’s penis in the intervening years.
At some point, Kelly started breathing again and my fist slid up and down his soap-slicked erection. As I washed him in the most intimate of ways, I wondered if he knew about masturbation. At nearly thirteen, I figured he had. Still, that wasn’t something I wanted to ask him about. More than that, I was damn sure it wasn’t something he wanted to mention to me.
After a few tugs, I let go. I had wanted to wash him down there. Not make my twelve-year-old orgasm. I said, “Sorry, baby. I guess that was kind of uncomfortable.”
Kelly let out a nervous chuckle, “Yeah. I guess. I still remember the stuff about good and bad touches. I said it was okay. That makes it a good touch. Right?”
There was a tremor in my voice, “Yeah, Kel.”
As much as I wanted to touch him again, I had to retrain myself. I added, “Please tell me if this becomes too uncomfortable.”
Kelly turned his head until his lips were a couple of inches from my cheek, “You’re only touching me because you love me, Mom. My, um, my privates won’t clean themselves.”
As if punctuating it, his penis twitched again. I did my best to hide my sigh as I had him stand while I washed his legs. After which, Kelly was about as clean as I was going to get him tonight. I’d worry about his hair tomorrow. From there, it was just a matter of drying him off, putting his wrist braces on, putting a fresh diaper on him and putting him into his own bed.
He was asleep before long. Then it was my turn to take a bath. I changed out the water and stripped. While I waited for the tub to fill up, I looked in the mirror. I help up my arms and noticed a bit of stubble. Of course, it had been a week since I’d last shaved. That was one of the nice things about not having much body hair; shaving under my arms and my legs once a week kept me feeling quite smooth.
Once I sank into the bath’s hot water, I took more time than usual shaving my usual spots. Even though I knew it was a bad idea to think on it, I couldn’t keep from thinking about Kelly’s smooth legs and arms. And even though I could barely admit it, even to myself, his pubic area. I especially found that smoothness alluring.
Before long, my fingers pushed through my pubic hair. I’d never had what I considered a big bush. My pubic hair tapered off before reaching my legs. Also, it thinned considerably before it made it even a quarter of the way to my belly button, with my treasure trail disappearing a couple of inches below where my panties normally started. My thoughts returned to Kelly. I had loved the feel of his erection in my hands earlier. Despite the hot water, I grew wet just thinking about his silky-smooth penis. It was enough that I took my razor and carefully shaved all my pubes. I took my sweet time; even shaving the hair from around my labia, managing to not cut myself even once.
Once I finished shaving, I ran my fingers down my slit and I felt a thousand times more sensual and sexier running my fingers down my slit. It felt so much better with no hair getting in the way. I found my clit and rubbed it. I should have thought of someone else. Really, anyone else. But I couldn’t get Kelly out of my mind, nor his gorgeous four-and-a-half inches.
By the time I finished my bath, the water had gone cold.
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mom WANTS him