Cuming of Age by Mike Litoris (best beach reads TXT) 📕

Let's get straight to the point: Ever since I can remember, I think my mom is beautiful, smart and very sexy. From the day on I first caught her and dad having sex in the living room to be exact. I must have been around 13 back then. What first shocked me – to see my beloved mother bent over the sofa and moaning heavily – quickly aroused me. It had such an effect on me that I masturbated for the very first time in my life. A historical event so to say! For I haven’t spent a day ever since not masturbating. And as much as I tried, the subject of my jerk-off phantasies, was 99% of the time my mom, my beloved mother. It didn’t help, of course, when she started to behave more and more freely around the house. She didn’t bother me seeing her sunbath nude on the balcony. She didn’t bother if I surprised her in the bathroom bare-naked in front of the mirror. She even began to sit in front of the TV or her laptop topless when me or dad was around. I jerked off every day, most of the time several times, but started to develop some kind of guilt feelings when I got older. I tried to fantasize about other women, girls from porn blogs or tumblr, pornhub movies, even classmates and neighbors. But it didn’t work out. I really tried hard, but always ended up fantasizing about my mom and her voluptuous body.

The day my mum came home from her breast surgery (she didn’t even mention it to me before) I had the shock of my life. It was like a punishment. It was as if she wanted to put me to the final challenge, to the ultimate test a man, or rather a pubescent youngster, has to go through. How could I ever desire another woman when she, my own mother, was everything I longed for? The love I had for her tuned into pure lust and craving. And I had to RESIST! Refuse the fact that I thought she was the most beautiful, most perfect, most admirable, most idolizing woman in the world. I tried my best. I struggled hard. Then, a few days later, when I walked into the bathroom and saw her creaming her curvy body in front of the mirror, her new, huge, full breasts at complete display. I started to tremble and lose ground, gasping for breath when she asked me openly: „How do you like them?“. I think, all I mumbled was: „They are big…“ before I ran out the door and into my room. I was furious! How could she?! Was my own mom making a mockery of me? I hated her! She knew that I desired her, that I was only thinking of her and could never engage with another woman not comparing her to my mom. She intentionally sabotaged my non-existent sex life. Later that evening, when I couldn’t hold back anymore and masturbated in my bed I had to cry. I was lost…

 Eventually I got older, I finally turned 16, but the problems concerning my puberty were increasing. Whenever I had friends over at my house I started to notice that they were gazing at my mum and her perfect, round, heavy breasts. On one hand I felt flattered, on the other hand I sensed a deep sentiment of shame. One of my best friends, Paul, was even making remarks about my mother mentioning her "huge tits" more than ever when he was over at my place. But also in school he started to tease me by calling my mum a "bombshell" and other stuff I don't even recall anymore. The longer it went on the more I felt humiliated and extremely uneasy when I had friends over. One fine day the situation escalated into Paul announcing that he "has to go to the bathroom to jerk off ", after we both surprised my mother sunbathing on the balcony topless. Needless to say, I had a hard-on as well, but never had felt more mortified in my whole life ever before. My friends used me to have a glimpse at my mother, they just came over to my place to have her as jerk-off material. Undoubtedly Paul would tell everyone tomorrow in school what he encountered today. I was in a state of horror.

That's when I decided to take a step forward and approach my mother. The next day at lunch I addressed her and told her in incoherent, stammered sentences that I don't like her to walk around so freely, not to sunbath in front of my friends, not to become the talk of the school yard therefore. She smiled at me astonished. As if she didn't know herself! I started to yell at her, telling her how much all of this hurt me. I even told her that Paul was masturbating yesterday. Because of her! To calm me down she padded me on the shoulder and asked me what she could do to make me feel better. She asked me if it would help if I told her what to wear and what not. She assured me that it was never her intention to make me feel uneasy at home or around her. And even more – she asserted – it was not her idea to arouse my friends at all. It was the first time we ever had a talk like this and I suddenly felt much better, sensed her understanding and care for me. We hugged and I went to my room. In a long time I wasn't jerking off this evening. Maybe I had outgrown this lust finally?!

Not long after our talk, one day before my 17th birthday,  my mother came to my room to tell me that she was having thoughts about what to wear at my birthday party. She said she still considered my concerns about her appearance in front of my friends. She explained lengthily how important it is for her that I feel comfortable at home and that I won't feel embarrassed because of her and her upfront outfits. I nodded doubtfully.

She asked me to follow her to her wardrobe and find an appropriate outfit for the event. I was quite unsettled by her proposal, but thought it was quite nice of her and attentive at the same time. Obviously the talk we had an impact after all.

When we stepped into the bedroom there were already some clothes and dresses on her bed. She suggested to wear at first a long, red dress. I nodded agreeably. She grabbed it and disappeared in the connecting bath room. I felt a bit tense waiting for her to come back a moment later to present her outfit. Wasn't this sort of "game" a bit surreal for a 17 year old to encounter? When she stood in front of me in this blazing red, long but extremely tight dress she looked stunning of course. "Oh, you look fantastic, mommy", it escaped me. She smilingly thanked me. Then she took the other outfit, a blouse and a pair of jeans and disappeared back in the bathroom. Now I was getting anxious! What kind of "game" was this? Did my mother try to trick me, didn't she care about my well-being after all? I had not enough time to think this through, because she already stood in front of me again. And what a sight she offered me! She wore blue jeans that were much too tight for her firm thighs and hips. The blouse she had on, was made out of linen, so thinly woven, one could almost see through it. I had full view of her gigantic, round and firm breasts, I could even make out her large nipples! I gasped, tried to turn my glance off her. She kept on staring at me and asked quietly: "And, how do you like this on me?". I stuttered something inaudible while noticing that my penis had grown full size in my jogging pants. "Do I make you feel uncomfortable?", she asked me in her mommy voice. I shook my head, but had to hold back my tears. I never felt so humiliated in my whole life before. Did she already notice my huge boner beneath my pants or didn't it matter anymore anyway? There was one last outfit on the bed I observed. She grabbed it with one hand and smiled at me gleefully: "The last one for you to decide?". I said robotically "yes" and saw her scurry to the bathroom with a black micro-tanga and a bikini top in her hands...

 The days and weeks after my birthday are in a blur. In the morning of my birthday I cancelled all my invitations by telling everyone I was sick. Which I actually was somehow. I stayed in my room for the whole day or maybe even longer. I couldn’t stop crying and blaming myself for what had happened. Of course I was also very angry at my mother. She had destroyed me, showed me effectively that I should never question and discredit her, that I was not allowed to tell her what to do, what to wear and how to act in this house. I had brought myself into ridicule with my instructions. I could never in my life again complain about anybody who would get horny because of my mother. Not even Paul or any of my friends. She definitely had taught me a lesson.

When I finally came out of my room