A Very Long Pause Pt. 01

This is a short version of events of what occurred during the summer after my high school graduation. Still living at home but working a summer job, I was the last to leave for work every morning. My dad left first, then sister, Mom, and me. My dad and sister are not otherwise a prominent part of this narrative, just Mom and me. At the sound of my workday alarm clock, probably like any guy in his late teens, I awoke either with an erection or starting one. On most mornings I took care of that erection before getting out of bed. Being without a steady girl, I enjoyed masturbation probably a little too much.

About three or four weeks into the summer, I noticed three things one morning after the alarm: My cock was quite erect and uncovered, my bedroom door was slightly open, and there was a definite movement of a silhouette outside my door for a few seconds. I immediately covered but the thought of that event lingered for the rest of the day. Had I thought about my mom sexually before? Yes. I had seen her naked on more than one occasion. Perfect, in my opinion. I had also seen, only once, my parents engaging in sexual intercourse. That scene has not left my memory to this day.

The mornings yet to come in my bedroom are the beginning of the intimate relationship with my mom, but those satisfying mornings would experience a pause of decades to follow.

My alarm clock was essentially a backup, but the sound of it also triggered a two-fold response: reach over and turn it off, reach down and feel the firmness of my cock. I say "backup" because I have always been an early riser, and the sound of my dad fumbling around every morning in the bathroom adjacent to my room was undoubtedly the better alarm.

I was already awake the next morning when I heard my sister grinding the clutch backing out of the driveway for work. I began the frequent pleasure of rubbing my cock, knees bent, under the sheet. No more than two minutes into my habitual act of self-pleasure, the crack in the door appeared along with the silhouette, moving this time but remaining instead of leaving. It could only be my mom watching, and from the tent made by my knees and the movement under my sheet, she had to know what I was doing. The direction of my gaze toward the door absolutely informed her that I knew she was there watching.

The familiar feeling of my orgasm rising toward the head of my cock automatically triggered kicking off the sheet. I was so focused on the moment that I was not sure if she actually witnessed my fingers caressing my balls and the puddles of cream erupting, landing on my stomach. When I looked back toward the still cracked door, the only thing there was the little flower table where the semi-dark hallway ended at my room.

That morning was when I realized that the situation had much potential to progress. How? I was not sure, but albeit my own mom, I made the decision to make it easier for her to keep watching for many mornings to follow. I had the weekend to devise what would be a simple plan.

That weekend I generated a few ideas about how I would play "exhibitionist" to my mom Monday morning, hoping but not confident that she would duplicate her previous appearances. I worked Saturday and went out with friends that night; the thoughts about my mom persisted. By midday Sunday after sleeping in, I decided to take the lead the next morning. I knew.

Monday's beginning was typical. Although my alarm clock had rescued me a couple of times, I habitually slept light, and Dad could never quietly close the linen closet door or quietly do anything else in the master bathroom next to my room. With thoughts of my mom watching my morning cock play, I lay there, waiting, finally hearing his exit from the house.

When my sister left the driveway next, I got out of bed, cock erect, and this time I opened my own door but a few inches wider than my mom's openings the previous mornings. There was rarely a need for my mom to walk to the end of the hall to my room; the house ended there, and the garage was directly across on the other side of the hall. Nevertheless, after no more than two minutes of stroking my fully erect cock and enjoying every second, half of mom stepped into view.

I did not stop the rhythm of beating my meat. The only change was that I used my extra pillow to position my head so that she knew that my eyes looked directly at the opened door. Mom clearly witnessed the up and down movement of my hand around my cock as I continued. She had to notice my door already open, but Mom showed no sign of leaving. There was little doubt that she knew that I was looking at her, eye-to-eye. My hand slowed down, lightly rubbing the head of my cock, alternating between the head, slowly pumping the shaft, while feeling my balls with my other hand. After an unusual, short time, the excitement of my mom watching me took its toll with the satisfying appearance of warm man-cream on my hands, thighs, and stomach.

My eyes still on hers, Mom stood there looking, unmoving. I intentionally raised my butt a couple of times to give her a full, no-hands view of my now satisfied six inches and what I considered thick cock. I could easily see the motion of one of her hands hidden inside the top of her gown, and I simply could not see her other hand. A minute later with a few sounds from her, unexpectedly and definitely surprising as if nothing had ever taken place, she gently knocked on the open door twice and asked, "Would you like for me to leave you coffee before I go to work?"

Mom, "I love your coffee."

I am lying there, soaked in warm cum, and my mom routinely asking me a question. Her question and my answer about the coffee would be the catalyst for many satisfying mornings ahead. Daily, she stood there intently watching, but she never entered my room that week. I continued to plan.

That same question about the coffee would also play an important role in our close relationship not just in the weeks to come but almost 30 years later.