Chapter 7

Penny entered Peter's room the next morning. She wore a green plaid skirt, a white blouse, and carried her school books and loose-leaf binder. Her red-brown hair hung straight, controlled by bobby pins.

Peter was still in bed. He grinned.

Penny made a wondering face. "You really going to try it this morning?"

"Sure. I said I would."

Penny sat on the edge of his bed. "I'll bet you don't. I'll bet you turn chicken at the last minute."

"All I have to do is think of Dad and what we saw and heard."

Penny nodded and sobered. "Yeah." Her full young lips tightened.

Peter pushed the covers down to expose his nakedness. "Want to help a little? Give me a hard-on."

Penny grinned wickedly. "Okay, but I bet you don't keep it very long." She put her books aside and reached for his soft cock. She fondled it and flipped it. Impulsively, she bent over and stuffed it all into her mouth. She tongued and sucked.

Peter whispered, "Hey ... good!"

Penny felt his cock begin to swell. She giggled and tried to keep it all. But it expanded-bigger and thicker and longer. She gave up the struggle. She concentrated on the big glans. The shaft lengthened dramatically. She held his cock with both hands and sucked on the glans. After a minute his cock was as hard as it could get. She lifted her mouth away and released it. It flopped stiffly, heavily, agaisnt his flat, white belly. The mauve glans rested at least an inch above his belly button, almost blending with the tanned skin there. Penny patted his hard-on with her hand. "Mission accomplished." She raised incredulous brown eyes to his. "Are you really going to do it?"

"Tune in after school and find out."

"Wow-if you can!" She put her hand on his stomach. "Don't you have butterflies here?"

Peter nodded. His assured smile turned a little sick. "I keep telling myself-Remember the picnic."

"Um-hmm!" Penny leaned far forward and kissed him on the lips. "I'll tell her now, then run off to school." She squeezed his cock, smiled encouragingly, picked up her books and things, and left his room.

Penny went into the kitchen. Mae wore a pink robe over her sleeping gown. She was buttering toast. The breakfast table was set for three. Lars had left for work a half hour earlier. There were bowls of puffed rice with milk and sliced peaches waiting for Penny and Peter.

Penny said, "Mom, I think Peter's sick. I just looked in on him and he was still in bed and he said he had an upset stomach."

"Oh...." Mae skidded her chair back. "I'll go look at him. Eat your breakfast."

"I have to go now. I'm meeting Joyce Adams at the cafeteria early. We're a committee of two to decide on decorations for the dance." Penny daintily picked up a slice of peach and dropped it into her mouth. "I'll get some raisin mush at school."

Mae looked-skeptical. "More like raisin pastry."

"Oh, Mother!" Penny headed for the front door. She grinned and shivered as she left the house. Boy-if Peter could pull it off!

Mae went into the hall bathroom and took the thermometer from the top shelf of the medicine cabinet. She took it from its black plastic tube and was shaking it down when she knocked once on Peter's door and entered. "Peter?" She took two steps into his room before she saw what he was doing.

Her son was lying in bed, at least naked to the waist, only a sheet covering him from there on down to where the single blanket was bunched at his knees. He was fondling himself under the sheet!

Mae stopped and gasped, "PETER! Stop that!"

He jerked his hand away and out from under the sheet. He pressed both hands down against his hips. This action-accidental of course, Mae thought instantly-tightened the sheet over his middle. His massive erection was sharply outlined.

Mae stared. She faltered. She had not seen Peter's genitals in years. Not since he had begun to develop. She dragged her eyes away from that incredibly long bulge. "Penny-Penny said...." She had to face up to what he had been doing when she entered. Mae stood at the foot of his bed and looked fiercely at a point on the headboard just to the right of his ear. "Peter, it isn't ... it isn't good for you to play with yourself. You have to resist the temptation."

Peter was very nervous. "I guess so, but I get hard all the time, Mom. I mean, all the time!"

"Well, of course, you're young."

"I've always got it, though. I think something's wrong with me."

Mae's gaze was lured to his middle again. She couldn't believe it! "Nonsense, Peter!"

"But it's so big ... it's bigger by a lot than any of the guys I see in gym at school, in the showers."

Mae's chest felt constricted, as if an iron skin had been grown on her in the last few seconds.

She stood frozen, the thermometer forgotten in her right hand.

Peter licked his lips. He watched her. He swallowed. "See?" He flipped the sheet away.

Mae gave a small cry as his huge cock was revealed to her. She swayed. "Cover yourself!"

Peter started to, then stopped. "No! I want you to see it and tell me if I'm normal or not."

"I'm sure you are, Peter." Her voice trembled slightly. Her eyes roved the length of his naked cock. Bigger-bigger than Lars! Fifteen years old and he's got more than Lars! Almost as big as-She compared Peter's hard, throbbing cock to the dildo she had used the night before.

Peter became more confident. His mouth firmed. "I get sick sometimes if I don't-you know-masturbate. I try not to do it, but like this morning-I woke up and there it was, all big and hard, and sort of achy. I ache if I don't do something when it gets this bad. I get sick to my stomach, like now."

Mae could only nod and drag her eyes away. She met Peter's brown eyes and found a disturbing strength there. She looked away-the window. She said automatically, "But self-abuse is never...."

Peter overrode her. "I think I've got a fever from it now." He had noted the thermometer. "Take my temperature."

Mae was afraid to walk around the bed to him. An icky apprehension slimed the pit of her stomach. She stood, almost gasping, puzzling over her anxiety. Peter is my son. Peter is my SON!

"Take my temperature, Mom!"

"I don't think-"

"Come on, take my temperature! I've probably got a fever from this!" His eyes were hard, his voice commanding.

Mae shivered. She found herself moving around to his side. She kept her eyes rigidly on his chin. But her inner eyes were on the massive erection she saw in the corner of her vision.

A glitter of success and power came to Peter's eyes as she approached. It was easy! He patted the bed at his hip. "Sit down!"

"P-please cover yourself ... Please."

"Sit down here, Mom! Sit down!"

"Peter, it isn't right...." She sat on the very edge of the bed, only one buttock supporting her. Her hand trembled visibly as she put the thermometer in his mouth. Her other hand unconsciously gripped her robe closed at her throat.

Peter asked around the thermometer, "Wha d-you thinsh wrong wi me?" His eyes guided her eyes to his cock.

"N-nothing, dear. You're only ... only growing up. Teenage boys often have ah excess of ... of virility at your age ... and they have to learn to channel that sexual energy into other areas."

Mae found herself watching the tiny jerkings of his huge organ. It rested aslant his belly, pointing at her! She compared the differences between her son's giant cock to that of Lars' very big one. She was continually amazed at its size. Peter's belly was so flat and muscular, his hips so lean and bony. The big head of his cock actually extended out beyond his hipbone! What a terribly big thing to shove into a woman! Mae closed her eyes. She shivered. She became lost in shameful sexual images. Horrible thoughts welled up from the "dirty" part of her mind. She hated them.

Mae started when Peter touched her a moment later. He pointed to the thermometer. She took it from his mouth with a still shaking hand. As she tried to concentrate on the reading she noted that his erection had softened a bit. For some reason she felt safer, less threatened. She shifted and sat fully on the bed. Mae told herself she was being foolish. Peter was only fifteen years old. She was his mother. But a hysterical anxiety bubbled in the sewer of her mind. She managed to focus her eyes and mind on the thermometer reading. "You're perfectly normal, dear."

"No, I'm not normal, Mom! I've got this lousy ache down here...." He handled his cock. He held it up. It surged with renewed growth.

Mae's eyes could not resist. An odd fluttering began in her belly. She said, "Most men would be envious of you, dear. They'd s-say...."

"What, Mom? What would they say if they saw how big I am?"

"They'd-they'd probably wish they had one as big."

"But it still aches. It aches every day if I don't masturbate. That isn't right, is it? It isn't normal."

Mae didn't answer. He was slowly-slowly-working the skin up and down ... up and down ... up and down ... She watched, almost hypnotized. The skin fluted up over the big purplish-pink head, then was drawn down till the skin was taut and smooth and the upper five inches of shaft was in bold, perfect tension ... Then his gripping hand swept up the long, hard column till the head was covered again and the skin pouted closed over it. The thermometer dropped from Mae's fingers, forgotten.

"Mom ... Mom ... would you examine it and see if it's normal?"

"No ... Peter ... no...."

"But you're my mother. There's nothing wrong with you seeing it. There's nothing wrong with you looking at it. There's nothing wrong with you touching it."

"I-can't!"

"There's nothing wrong with a mother examining her son's body to see if he's okay, is there?"

"No, but...." Mae was confused. Her right hand moved slightly toward his naked hip.

"It'll just be an examination! There's nothing wrong with that, is there?"

She whispered, "But you're so grown up-there. You're so big." Her hand shifted another inch.

Peter saw the small moves. He grinned. "C'mon, Mom! Take a hold of it! Look at it real close! Tell me if it's normal!" He let go of his cock. It flopped and smacked meatily on his belly.

Mae's right hand rose in the air and gingerly approached his throbbing organ. Her hand was like a frightened animal making small, darting approaches and retreats. She snatched her trembling hand back at the last instant. She shook her head.

Peter became exasperated. "Mom, you're weird! I haven't got leprosy, have I? You're making a federal case out of nothing!" Peter grabbed her right wrist and guided her hand to his cock.

Mae gasped as if she was touching a fiery ingot when her palm contacted the hot, hard, rounded surface of his cock.

"Now look at it! Examine it!"

Mae felt helpless. Was she acting like a fool? Surely it couldn't be wrong for a mother ... If he hurt anywhere else-his foot-she wouldn't hesitate. She closed her ringers around his hot thickness. She could feel the hard pulse of his blood. His maleness was in her hand! Mae tried to make it an objective act, a doctor-like handling. She lifted it and forced herself to see all the details-the beautiful ivory coloring of the skin, the purplish veins, the beautiful tints of pink here and there ... the silky texture of the swollen glans ... even the small accumulation of secretion in the slightly gaping opening at the tip. "It looks all right, Peter." Her shaking voice betrayed her. She bit her tongue.

"Look at my balls, too! Maybe they're the problem."

Mae had the feeling of being sucked deeper and deeper into an impossible situation. It was surrealistic. But, she told herself, having gone this far ... She dipped a trembling hand into his crotch and lifted the blond-fuzzed sac of his balls. Mae had to shift more fully onto the bed. She used both hands to examine his warm scrotum. His balls moved within, avoiding or seeking the warmth of her palms and fingers. "They-they look fine."

"I still ache, though. Right now I ache like hell."

"I'm sorry, Peter. Maybe ... maybe you should relieve yourself once in a while ... if it's as bad-" Mae spoke as she avoided his eyes and avoided looking at his huge, throbbing cock. She searched distractedly for the thermometer in the folds of the sheet.

Suddenly Peter had grabbed her wrist again. He put her hand on his cock. "If you did it for me, Mom, you could tell if I'm normal that way." Their eyes locked for an instant. Peter's brown eyes were fierce with desire and power. Naked power.

Mae shivered. He knew her terrible weakness, her secret! She flushed beet red. Her hand stayed where he had placed it. A fiend in her mind capered with dirty joy. She pushed him down-out of sight! But her fingers slowly closed around Peter's thick cock. She whispered, "Maybe I could tell if...."

"If you helped me get rid of the ache!"

"Yes ... maybe ... then...." She knew she was fooling no one. Not herself. She couldn't say no if yes was said hard enough. Her will dissolved. Especially in sex. Sex ... with her son!

Mae sobbed. Her breath caught. She hung her head. She sat shaking, her right hand grasping Peter's massive cock. But not moving on him. She had to be further browbeaten-forced-to do that.

"Mother, move the skin up and down!"

Mae turned her face away ... and began a small movement of her hand.

"More than that! Come on! Faster! You know what to do!"

"Oh, Peter...." But she obeyed her son. Her hand tightened on his shaft and her hand swept up ... and down ... and up ... Mae wanted to watch her hand, but could not accept that much willing participation. She kept her head down and looking away ... and her eyes closed ... as a rhythm was set-as the bed creaked in time with her strokes. It was awful-shameful-what she was doing! But she continued to do it. I'm jacking off my son!

She heard Peter's shallow, quick breathing, and her own gasps. She felt the wonderful hardness in her grip, the incredible length, as her arm swept up and down. Mae existed for a moment in a kind of stasis-a nonthinking world of sounds and movement. Then she opened her eyes and saw in the corner of her eye the tension and lust in her son's young face as he stared raptly at what her arm and hand were doing for him.

She flushed again. She made her arm jerk up and down faster! She almost moaned with shame when Peter said, "God, Mom-Ummm, keep that up ... just like that!"

She kept it up. She heard and felt the signs of Peter's rapidly approaching climax. She turned her head away as far as possible. She closed her eyes tight. Mae flailed her arm up and down! She heard his ragged gasps-his cock was a hot, thick, vibrant bone in her tight, sliding grasp. Then his cock jerked in her grip-again!-again!-and she felt flowing semen on her hand, running down over her fingers.

She was panting with the exertion and still red-faced with humiliation. She continued pumping him until he whispered, "That's enough, Mom!"

She took her hand away. She held her hand away from her. Her fingers were drippy with semen. The smell was strong. Mae sat staring at her hand.

"Go wash your hands, Mom! And bring something to wipe me off!"

She obeyed.