My Son’s Penis Is Online Pt. 02

A week had already gone by since I first found my son's penis picture, and I was still nervous around my son. Not at all in an uncomfortable way, rather in a curious, almost excited, way.

I mean, there is nothing to do about it now. I have seen it. I have looked at that picture of my son's hard penis, there is no going back from that. I told myself that it was okay that way, and that I can forget about it now.

But it still takes a lot of effort to look at my son without thinking about his dick. How it is standing straight up in that image, in salute for whomever is willing to look.

And that makes me nervous. Or excited, strangely.

Why did I even do this? The first time it was by accident. But what were my intentions when I continued looking at his picture? I did not answer that question. But I told myself, I did it to punish my son.

I punished him for what he did to me. He had made me look at this picture. It is not like I asked him to show it. He put it there, at the risk that anyone would find it. Including his own mother.

It was not my choice. He made me look, and now I'm supposed to look back at my son, like what he did to me was not a big deal, that it's okay.

Maybe I do this to feel I am doing the right thing by teaching him something. To give him a lesson, a lesson that the things he did are not acceptable in the future. Maybe I do this to make sure he won't do it to me again. Or maybe, even the most mundane, I simply just want to know how he will react.

Not only to punish him, but also try and understand him better. I want to know who he is. His personality, what he likes and how he acts around me.

It may sound strange, but I actually don't mind seeing his dick in that picture anymore. Now, it's almost just a penis like any other. I mean, I've seen it quite a few times since that first night. It's actually nice to look at him like that. Just knowing that he is a man now, and not only my son. Although I may have been a little taken aback at first, I am not uncomfortable with it anymore, nor does it scare me.

It's kind of funny to think that what we see as such a private thing, does not have to be that private. I feel like that is part of who he is now. I mean, it's kind of nice to know that he is growing up, and he has gotten so much bigger.

I had thought about making him delete his profile, but I knew that it had to be his decision. We all have our secrets, our private things that we do, and do not show to anyone, for whatever reason.

We were home one night, just me and my son, and I had made him some dinner. I called him to the table, and was standing with my back towards him while I was at the stove serving the food.

I was busy with a plate of spaghetti in my hands, when I felt my son's hand touch my waist. A soft, tentative touch.

I looked over my shoulder, but I was too surprised to say anything, and my son just stood there, looking nervous. I had felt his touch on my body, but as my mind was on the spaghetti, I didn't really register what was going on. My son's hand was on my waist, touching it, slowly running up my belly.

I was a bit perplexed, at first, and then I smiled. But I did not say anything to him.

This was a rare occurrence and I would not want to ruin it. My son was actually taking the initiative for a hug. As a mother, getting the attention of her son is one of the best feelings. Last few years, it had always been me who forced him into hugs and intimacy.

So I would not do anything but welcome his affection. I put down the plate on the side of the stove.

Soon, my son's arms were wrapped around me. His arms crossed, his hands placed just below my breasts. I thought I could feel his thumbs just barely brushing against the bottom of my boobs. He was close to me, his chest now against my back. His face by the side of my head, close to my ear.

He whispered "I love you, mom."

I just smiled. Could he see how much I enjoyed this?

It had been a long time since I heard my son say he loved me. It has always been me making those kinds of expressions of love.

I said, "I love you too, son." He seemed happy with that, as he hugged me tighter, rubbing up against me. I was grateful, and I could not believe I was finally getting this kind of affection, from my own son. It felt so good.

His face had moved into my hair. I could almost feel his breath on my neck.

I realized that we would have to eat before the food got cold, and told him so. I picked up the plate, and he slowly released me from his grip, once again letting the top of his hands brush against my tits as he let me go.

"Okay, mom," he said, and went to sit down at the table. Still with a warm feeling inside me, I put the plates on the table and went to sit down with him.

We ate while small talking, my mind still buzzed and relaxed.

We had almost finished the plate of spaghetti, when he said, "Mom, did you visit my profile again?" he said, but instead of answering I just looked at him. I tried to look like I did not understand what he wanted to say, and waited for him to continue. After a second or two, he did. "It says that our IP has logged in several times during the last week, but I only went there once."

My eyes widened, my face flushed, and I had to look down at my plate, not wanting to make eye contact with him. How would I explain this? I had said it was fine if he did not delete it. Yet, I went there and saw the profile, and there was no question that I had seen my son's penis again.

Suddenly, it felt like I was the one in trouble, instead of my son.

I was surprised that my son was actually willing to tell me this, instead of pretending it didn't happen. Maybe it was this last week that made him open up to me. He actually trusted me to know the truth. He trusted me enough to tell me he knew what I did.

"I was just..." I said. I really did not want to explain myself, and I did not want to lie to him. Just like I would not like to learn that he lied to me.

He seemed worried, and I wanted to make sure he knew he had done nothing wrong.

"It is no big deal," I said. "But I looked up your profile again. It was my mistake, I shouldn't have done that," I tried to explain to my son, not sure if anything of what I said made any sense, "but I was a bit curious."

"Curious?" my son asked. "About what, mom?"

"Well, I wanted to know if you had deleted it." I knew I had to be honest, as any lie in this situation would be too transparent. "At first... And then I went back to look at your profile again."

I could not help but look guilty, finding it difficult to meet his eyes.

"Mom," he asked, and my eyes flickered up to his. He was looking straight at me, expecting me to explain myself. "Why did you look at it, again?"

"I wanted to find out more about you," I said, feeling embarrassed. "About your experiences. But I understand if you don't want to tell me about it. It's up to you."

"So what did you find, mom?" he asked.

"I just saw that picture..." I said. "And I just went back to see if you had any more info about yourself there."

"Mom, I already told you I wanted to be anonymous," he said, defensive. "I put no more info than that picture there."

"I know. I know," I said. I looked down at the table. I felt like I was under a lot of pressure, and couldn't do anything right. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to see it."

"You wanted to see it again, mom?" he asked.

"Son," I said, "It was not like that. I know I should not look. But since I had already seen it," I said as my mind was coming up with new explanations, "I was curious about who you are. I wanted to know more about you."

"Okay," he said. "But I don't know what you are implying."

"I wanted to see how you had grown up," I said. I could feel my heart pounding. I could not believe I told my son this. The raw truth, that I had not even told myself yet. "I wanted to see if you changed. How you became a man."

I had been too embarrassed to say it before, but there was no turning back now.

"When I saw your profile, I realized you were becoming a new person," I said, looking up at him. I wanted to make sure he heard it. "You have clearly had new experiences."

I could see my son's shoulders relax a little. He was not being punished. I on the other hand was being called out on my own guilt. I was not sure how to make him feel better, but my admittance seemed to help him.

"You are more manly now," I said, trying to make it sound like a compliment.

"What do you mean?" he asked, and I could see his face giving away a faint smile.

"When I look at you now," I said. "You look so strong. You look like a man."

I looked up at him and he seemed to almost laugh. "Mom," he said, "You saw my profile." He had the smile I was waiting for. "Of course you think I look more manly now." He laughed, "I look like a big kid."

He seemed to feel it was funny that I was so awkward at that moment, and seemed to enjoy my compliments. As he laughed, he almost seemed proud of his mother seeing his penis.

I smiled at him. I had been worried during the conversation, but thought I had managed to explain myself without making things too awkward. I had wanted to see my son grow into a man, that was it.

"But I did not like that you shared that picture online," I had to add. "I mean, think about who can get their hands on a picture like that."

"I know, mom," he said. "I'm not sharing anything like that publicly again."

"Good. Because not all people would handle it as well as me." "I know, mom. Thanks for not telling dad."

"Your private parts should only be seen by the woman in your life. Your girlfriend, your wife."

Even though I was trying to have a serious conversation, he had a joking expression on his face: "Or my mom?"

"You should not..." I started, but changed my mind. "You know I don't mind seeing you naked. You are my son, and you are a beautiful man."

He seemed to expect a 'but', but as I had none, he responded:

"And you are a very beautiful mother."

His words felt like a reward, the kind of compliment I had hoped for from him.

"Mom," he said after we had been silent for half a minute. "You know what you said about that we should not be worried about seeing one another in the nude?"

"Yes, honey?" I said and awaited what he seemed so hesitant to say.

"I think that is a great idea," he said. "That we try to be more open to each other, I mean. I don't want to feel ashamed, and do not want to hide anything from you."

It was wonderful to hear that my son wanted to be closer to me. "Oh," I said, "I think that sounds like a very good idea. I would love to be more open with you."

Simultaneously, we held out our arms, and went in for a hug. As mother and son, we embraced tightly, feeling our bodies merge together. He had indeed become strong, and I felt safe in his arms. In my mind, I could see the image of my son's erect penis.

For the first time, I understood that the image may never disappear from my mind. And I found myself accepting the idea.