Mother Knows Best

Abigail considered her son Nelson to be a sensitive boy -- tall, good-looking, but sensitive. 19 years old and about to start university after a gap year spent travelling around Eastern Europe, he, she was sure, still found it difficult to make friendships with the opposite sex. Girls had always found him attractive, of course. He had no shortage of admirers. Perhaps, thought Abigail, that was the problem. Perhaps he thought that girls would soon tire of his winning smile, piercing blue eyes, rugged jawline. Then what? Perhaps the mere thought of being a disappointment made him instantly tongue-tied and awkward, with the result that girls got the mistaken impression that it was they who were boring him rather than the other way round.

Gosh, thought Abigail, isn't growing up difficult?

Her husband had died when Nelson was 13, in a freak accident involving a nail gun and a rather ambitious bit of DIY, and she had devoted the last few years to protecting her son from the, often imagined, horrors of being a fatherless child. Consequently, most of what she thought were Nelson's preoccupations were, in fact, her own, while what actually obsessed him she was completely unaware of. On the other hand, they were very close. Nelson had matured quickly after his father's death and had rather cleverly helped his mother through her period of mourning, so cleverly, in fact, that she was convinced it was she who had helped him.

Nelson showed little awkwardness around his mother. With her he was open and frank -- well, fairly. He was still only 19, after all, and Abigail was 40. It was not an insignificant gap. Not that they were immediately taken for mother and son by strangers. Abigail had passed on some of her own good looks to Nelson, though she had kept her full breasts and sexy hips to herself. She could still turn heads in the street -- even if she had little awareness she was doing so. Whenever they were out together she had the habit of putting her arm through her son's, with the result that they were often taken for a couple, and a rather handsome one at that. If she was honest with herself -- which, admittedly, was rare -- she was flattered. There's nothing guaranteed to give one's self-esteem a boost, she would say to herself, so much as having a handsome young man on one's arm.

Late one Saturday night she was lying in bed with the light out, thinking of nothing much at all. She heard Nelson's key in the front door lock, the clatter of the keys as he dropped them on the hall table, his footsteps softly on the stairs as he tried not to wake her.

"Is that you?" she called.

"No, it's a burglar. Keep your mouth shut and you won't get hurt."

"You," she laughed as he came into her room and sat on her bed. "How was the party? Did you meet any nice girls?"

"Maybe..." He looked downcast.

"Maybe you did or maybe they were?"

"Maybe they were nice. I never got the chance to find out."

"Oh, Nelson."

"Yeah, it was the usual story. We would have a dance, then I wouldn't be able to think of anything to say and they'd just walk off."

His mother put her hand on his. "Oh Nelson, I'm really sorry."

Probably not as sorry as Nelson himself -- who was not being entirely truthful in any case.

Abigail, however, knew there was something he wasn't telling her.

"Still, you had plenty of dances. It proves they find you attractive."

"I guess."

"So what is it about them that makes you so shy? You know they're not going to eat you."

He wished.

"Of course not. It's just..."

She squeezed his hand. "It's alright, Nelson, you can tell me. Haven't we always told each other everything?"

Which wasn't entirely true, but never mind, she was only trying to help.

"It's nothing, mum, honestly." He stood up. "I'm going to bed. I'm beat."

"If you're sure." She held out her arms to him. "Give me a kiss."

He leant forward and kissed her on the lips, just as he had done every night for years, and she caressed his cheek, just as she had done every night for years.

"Good night, darling. Sleep tight."

"Night, mum."

"And don't worry. It'll come right, you'll see."

The next morning he woke still fully dressed and with a solid erection bursting his jeans. He stripped off and went into his ensuite bathroom. In the full-length mirror his cock stood out against his slim muscular body. No, he couldn't be doing with that now. He turned on the shower and ran it colder than he was used to. Within a minute or two his cock had subsided to its normal size.

The Sunday passed in the usual way, that is, with very little activity. He watched some sport on TV then cut the grass while Abigail pottered in the garden. It was unusually cloudless and they both caught a bit of sun. Later he helped her prepare dinner. They ate early and shared a bottle of wine. After stacking the dishwasher they flopped on the sofa. Neither wanted to watch TV. They were both feeling a little lightheaded from the wine.

She leant her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes. "Don't let me go to sleep."

"I won't."

They sat in silence.

"You're very quiet," murmured Abigail after a while.

"Am I?"

"I hope you're still not thinking about last night."

"No..."

Abigail sat up. She took his hand. "Tell me. It can't be that awful."

"I can't. It's difficult. It's not the kind of thing a guy can talk about with his mother."

Abigail smiled. "Don't worry about shocking me. There aren't many things I haven't heard before."

"I'm not worried about you. I'm more worried about embarrassing myself."

She had suspected as much. And now she could make a pretty good guess at what might be the object of his embarrassment.

"Is all this something to do with sex?" There was no use beating about the bush. The quicker everything was out in the open the sooner he would get over his embarrassment.

He couldn't stop the blush rising in his cheeks. "In a way..."

An awful thought suddenly occurred to her. "You haven't...?"

He looked at her in confusion, then light dawned. "No. No, nothing like that."

"Because you know you must use protection. I've told you..."

"It's okay," he said quickly. "You don't have to worry. I haven't even had the opportunity."

"That's a relief," his mother smiled. Then she realised what he had said. He was still a virgin. She didn't know whether to feel sorry or proud.

"Oh darling, is that what's been worrying you? It will happen, the right girl will..."

"No," he interrupted. "Not exactly."

"What, then? Tell me. I'm sure I'll be able to help."

"Well, it's..." He didn't even know what words to use. "Well, you know, girls always seem to be looking, you know, down there."

"Down where?"

"You know, my crotch."

Abigail couldn't help smiling. "There's nothing wrong with that. All girls do. It's natural. We're curious."

"I've never seen you do it."

"That's probably because I'm less obvious than the girls you know. But I assure you I do. Anyway, why don't you like it?"

"It's kind of intimidating. It's like they're measuring me up."

"I'm afraid that's exactly what they're doing."

"And it's even worse when we're dancing. I always get an erection and I'm sure they can feel it, you know, pressing against them."

"You don't have to worry about that. Girls are used to it. In any case, they probably feel flattered. I would."

"But what if, you know, it's not... This is so embarrassing... If it's not as big as they expect?" There, he'd said it. He didn't know whether to feel relieved or suicidal.

But if he expected his mother to laugh at him he was disappointed. To his surprise she took him absolutely seriously. "So that's what all this is about. I might have guessed. Nelson, you're not the first boy to be worried about the size of his cock and I don't suppose you'll be the last."

Did he hear correctly? Did his mother just say "cock"?

"The truth is," she continued, "they come in all shapes and sizes. Which is very nice for us girls, because it would be very boring if they were all exactly the same. But the vast majority are all about the same size and I wouldn't mind betting that yours is too."

"I don't know," muttered Nelson. "In the showers it seems like most other guys are bigger than me.

"How do you know? Do they all walk around with erections?" Abigail smiled. "What a thought..."

"Of course not."

"How do you know then? All cocks are different when they are flaccid. The important thing is what they're like when they're erect. That's what we girls are interested in."

Her son looked doubtful. "Even so..."

"Exactly how big is it?" she asked matter-of-factly. "Have you measured it?"

Nelson looked horrified. "Course not." He was lying, of course, but Abigail wasn't to know that.

"Right, we'll do it now. Then you can put it out of your mind and stop worrying about it."

He looked even more horrified. "What, here, now?"

"Why not? No time like the present." She smiled encouragingly. "I'm sure I have my tape measure in the sewing box." She reached beside the sofa and pulled a small wicker box onto her lap, from which she extracted a rolled up tape measure.

"Maybe not now," protested Nelson. "Maybe I should take your word for it..."

But his mother was having none of that. She was a woman who liked things to be settled one way or the other. She was also a woman who liked to look at a man's cock. What woman doesn't?

"There's no need to be embarrassed, darling," she reassured him. "I have seen it before."

"Yeah, when I was a kid," muttered Nelson, unconvinced.

His mother took no notice. "Stand up. Let me unzip you."

He wasn't in the habit of disobeying her, so meekly did as he was told. Abigail undid the buckle of his belt and slid the zip of his jeans down. As she pulled his jeans over his hips she could see the small bulge in his boxers. Oh dear, he was right, it wasn't particularly large. But then she reminded herself that it was probably shrunken with embarrassment.

"Do you want to pull your boxers down, or shall I?" She rather hoped he would let her do it. Already she could feel her heart beating a little faster.

"I'll do it," he said quickly. He put his thumbs in the belt and started to turn away.

"Don't be shy, darling. How am I supposed to measure it if I can't see it?"

Reluctantly he faced her and slid his boxers to his feet. Abigail was understandably transfixed. True, she had seen her son's cock before, but that was years ago. Now he was a man -- with strong thighs, a hard six-pack and a man's cock.

"There, that wasn't so bad, was it?"

"I guess not," muttered Nelson.

"You have a lovely cock, darling, and I don't want you ever to feel ashamed of it."

"Okay..." What was he supposed to say to that?

"The problem is," smiled his mother, "I can hardly measure it when it's in that state. What we need is for it to be nice and hard."

Nelson took the opportunity to reach for his boxers. "Oh well, if it's no go..."

But Abigail wasn't having that, not having come this far. "Don't be silly. I'm sure you know how to give yourself an erection. If you tell me you don't, I won't believe you."

Now it was the turn of Nelson's heart to beat a little faster. "You mean you want me to... I can't, not in front of you," he protested.

"Just try," his mother smiled. "Close your eyes and think of some sexy girl you know."

"I can't. I know I can't. It just won't work."

Abigail put out a hand and caressed his thigh. "Would you like me to? You can close your eyes if you want."

"Oh God..." was the only answer he could muster.

That was good enough for her. With no more ado she took his limp cock in her hand and gently drew the foreskin back. The crown and slit appeared, round and smooth.

"Oh God..." repeated Nelson, his eyes firmly closed. Already he could feel his cock stirring.

Abigail moved her hand gently back and forth, covering and uncovering the crown. With her other hand she cupped his balls. She loved the feel of them, their softness, their weight. How he had grown. Her son was a man.

"Do you like that, darling?"

"Mmm..." He didn't really trust himself to speak, his thoughts and feelings were too jumbled up. An attractive older woman was stroking his cock and it felt fantastic -- the trouble was, the woman was his mother.

"I hope you're not worried about me doing this." It was as if she had read his mind. "I'm not going to go all the way, I hope you realise. This is just so that I can reassure you you're no different from other boys. It's what any mother would do." She laughed. "Well, maybe not every mother."

The effect of her stroking on Nelson's cock was becoming plain. It was already quite stiff and hard, though not, she suspected, as hard as it could be. It was no longer as easy to cover the crown with his foreskin, so she concentrated on the crown itself, the slit and the sensitive skin beneath.

"Unngh..." moaned Nelson.

Gratifyingly, his cock stiffened further. It was now almost long enough for Abigail to put both her small hands around it side-by-side. She gave the crown a few last caresses then reluctantly let it go. It stood stiff and proud.

"That's better." She smiled up at him. "I'm not sure I need to measure it, darling. You have a really beautiful cock, and I can't see any girl complaining."

"Really?" Nelson dared to open his eyes. "You're not just saying that?"

"No, I'm not just saying that," she reassured him. "I'd be a very happy girl if I knew that was waiting for me. It was as much as I could do to take my hands off it, it feels so nice and hard."

"And you're sure it's big enough?"

Abigail felt her tongue licking her lips. "Oh yes, it's big enough, believe me."

At last he smiled. He looked so pleased with himself, for a moment he looked like her little boy again.

"Thanks, mum." He leant forward and kissed her quickly on the mouth. It was as much as she could do not to fling her arms around his neck and snog him passionately. "You've no idea what a relief that is."

"Didn't I tell you you had nothing to worry about?" she smiled. "Now you'd better get dressed -- or perhaps you'd rather go and finish that off." She nodded at his still beautifully erect cock.

He grinned and pulled up his boxers and jeans. "I guess it'll keep."

He zipped and buckled up, threw himself onto the sofa and gave her a big hug. "You're the best mum ever -- and you're pretty beautiful too."

Abigail returned the hug. Actually, she might have preferred him to go to his room and make himself come. The thought of him stroking his hard cock made her feel quite weak.

That night and for the rest of the week Abigail slept badly. Try though she might she couldn't get the image of her son out of her mind. There was no doubt about it, Nelson was a man. He was a good 6 inches taller than her, his body slim, lean and hard. She could have counted the muscles on his stomach. And then there was his cock. She realised how long it had been since she had seen one. Since her husband's death, she had more or less devoted all her time to her work and to Nelson. She had felt little desire for another man. She had felt little desire, period. But there was no doubt the sight of Nelson's erect cock had stirred something inside her. She had grown used to the idea of being single, of being without a man. But maybe she had been living a lie. Of course, she masturbated occasionally. She even had a couple of vibrators. But she could have lived without them. They were only there for when she had an itch that had to be scratched.

Unfortunately now, she realised, she had quite a serious itch. Even more unfortunately, a forbidden itch. She fancied her own son. Dutifully, she thrust the thought from her mind.

The next Saturday Nelson went out as usual, to a party at a friend's house. Abigail stayed in and watched a French movie about a young boy discovering first love. It featured a few scenes of him swimming naked in a stream, which did nothing to cool her thoughts of Nelson. She went to bed early, read a travel book for an hour, then tried to sleep. When she heard his key in the front door she was surprised to see her bedside clock showed only 11.30. She listened to him coming upstairs and tried to resist the urge to call out. She didn't manage it.

"Nelson?"

He sat on the bed. "I thought you'd be asleep by now."

"It's only 11:30."

"Is it?" He seemed surprised.

"So it wasn't much of a party?"

"It was okay."

"Did you meet any nice girls?"

He smiled. "You always ask me that, mum. I don't go to parties only to meet girls."

"Don't you? I did. To meet boys, I mean." She laughed. "Alright, I promise I won't ask you again."

He looked at her in silence for a bit.

"What are you looking at? Do I have some food on my chin or something?"

"Sorry, I was just thinking what a pretty mum I have, particularly in that nightdress. It's always been my favourite."

Abigail's first impulse was to pull the duvet up over her breasts, but actually she felt more flattered than embarrassed. "Well, thank you. It's been a long time since anyone paid me compliments."

"I don't know why," said Nelson, feeling bolder. "You're a lot more beautiful than any girl I know."

"Oh, Nelson...."

"I mean it." He did mean it. He had been thinking about nothing else for a week. The night his mother had praised his erect cock, he had lain in bed stroking it, thinking of nothing but her doing the same to him. He knew it was wrong to have lustful thoughts of his own mother, but he couldn't help it. He kept seeing Abigail gazing affectionately at his cock as she stroked it to its full size. And of course he had never told her that he had had a perfect view down her top of her beautiful full breasts and nipples. Even now he could see their outline under the thin silk and low cut of her nightdress. He could feel his cock stiffening in his jeans.

"You're very quiet. Is anything the matter?"

Her voice brought him out of his reverie. "No, nothing... I was just thinking..."

"I hope you're not still worried about..."

"No, not that," he grinned. "Thanks to you. But if we're talking about last Sunday, you know, when we, I mean, you..." He felt himself getting tongue-tied.

"You mean when I convinced you not to worry about your cock?"

"Yeah, that." He still didn't know how to continue.

"So what's worrying you now?"

Here goes, he thought. "It's just that since then, I mean, not all the time, but, you know, even like tonight at the party, and every night when I go to bed, it's like I can't stop thinking about what you did, and I mean I know I shouldn't, but I can't help it, I think about you and you making my cock hard and, well, you know, I think about you when I do it to myself."

He finally looked at Abigail, expecting to see the look of horror on her face. But to his surprise she was smiling.

"That seemed to take a lot of courage. Have you been rehearsing that speech?"

"Only on the way back from the party. Now I suppose you're disgusted with me."

"Not at all. I'm flattered. It's not every day a handsome man tells me he uses me as an aid to masturbation." She smiled wickedly. "I suppose I should ask if it works."

"What do you mean?"

"Does the thought of me make you come? Am I a good fantasy figure?"

"Oh yeah, every time."

"Good. I'd hate to think of me making you frustrated."

"So you really don't mind? You don't think it's weird me fancying you?"

She took his hand and squeezed it. "I told you, darling. I'm flattered." She was on the point of telling him that his feelings were reciprocated, that on at least one occasion during the week she had fantasised about him during a session with one of her vibrators. But no, she couldn't. Instead she decided to tease him a little.

"And since you fancy me, you'd better come here and give me a hug and a kiss." She drew back the duvet and held out her arms to him.