Molly stood at the bathroom mirror, fixing her makeup, arranging her auburn hair just so. She was a little nervous. Sean was coming home today.

Sean was her 15-year-old son, and she was finally going to bring him home from a long stay in the hospital. As she was putting the final touches to her appearance, her mind recalled the terrible day of the accident. He had been mowing the lawn, a job he'd been performing for the last couple of years since his father had cut out on them. He was adding gas to the still-running mower when it ignited. He'd gotten minor burns to his face, along with most of his hair in front being singed away. But the major damage had been to his hands, which had been severely burned.

Molly stood back, turning from side to side to study the brightly colored sundress hugging the curves of her 33 year old body. She wanted to look bright and cheerful for Sean. He'd been so depressed during her frequent visits to him in the hospital, self-conscious about his appearance. He would still have to go back in every day for treatments, but at least he was coming home. Molly wanted everything to be perfect for him.

She took a deep breath to calm the butterflies in her stomach. She had been worrying about his homecoming for days, scared that she wouldn't be able to take care of him. He was virtually helpless with his hands swathed in bandages, the slightest touch to them causing him excruciating pain. But she loved him more than anything in the world and vowed to do whatever was needed. She had taken leave from work so that she could stay home with him until he was okay again. With one last touch-up to her pink lipstick, she headed out to pick up her son.

"Would you like to watch TV until lunch, honey?" Molly asked.

"I guess," Sean answered half-heartedly, sitting down on the sofa, his bandaged hands held out awkwardly in front of him.

Molly switched on the set, then turned back to him. "Can I get you a cold drink?" she asked, a forced cheeriness in her voice. Sean only shrugged in response, staring glumly at the screen. She hated seeing him so depressed, and didn't know what to say to make it better.

She had gotten him home a short while ago, after some last minute instructions from the doctor and a long ride home in which he'd barely responded to her attempts at conversation.

She went out to the kitchen and returned with a glass of cola. Setting it on the table in front of him, she placed a long straw into the liquid. "There," she said brightly. "Now when you want a drink, you can just lean over and take a drink from the straw." Sean looked up at her, then leaned over and took an experimental sip. When he sat back, she asked him, "Can I do anything else for you right now, honey?"

"I don't like this channel," he said, nodding toward the TV.

"What would you like to watch?" she asked, picking up the remote.

"I dunno," he muttered morosely.

Molly stood for a moment, considering, then laid the remote back on the coffee table. She knelt down in front of him and said, "Give me your foot." He looked at her quizzically as she bent down and removed his sneakers, then pulled off his socks. "Now," she said, raising his bare foot to the table, "you can push the button with your toe."

He looked at her doubtfully, but seemed to brighten when he tried it and found that it worked. "Thanks, Mom," he said, looking up at her. She smiled tenderly and touched his face, then went off to the kitchen to prepare lunch.

When lunch was ready, Molly called Sean to the table where she had grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup waiting. When he was seated, she sat down next to him and saw him looking at the food, frowning at his helplessness. "Oh, honey," she said quietly. "I know you hate being like this. But it's only temporary and your hands are going to get better. Remember that, okay?" He nodded, sighing. "And until they do," she added in a cheery voice, "I just want you to think of me as your hands, okay?" He nodded again as she tucked a napkin into his shirtfront and picked up his sandwich for him to take a bite.

They were about halfway through the meal when Molly noticed a trace of a smile flitting across his face. A few moments later, he let out a snicker. It was so good to see him smile that she couldn't help but smile back as she looked at him questioningly. "What?" she asked.

He giggled and answered, "You open your mouth every time you give me a bite."

"I do not," she said in mock protest.

"You do so," he laughed. "You go like this..." he held up his hand, opening his mouth wide as he moved it toward her face, then closing it as he pulled his hand back. Molly laughed along with him, happy just to see his black mood lift. They finished lunch in much higher spirits.

A few hours later, Molly was in the utility room, folding the laundry. Sean had gone to lie down for a while, so she was surprised when she looked up and saw him standing in the doorway. "What is it, honey?" she asked, noting the apprehensive look on his face.

"Um..." he fidgeted, obviously embarrassed. "I gotta use the bathroom."

"Oh," she replied, and then realizing, "Oh! Okay." She put down the sheet she had been folding and followed him to the bathroom. Inside, he moved in front of the toilet and she came up behind him. Reaching past him, she raised the toilet seat, then, feeling a bit awkward, grabbed the sides of his shorts and pulled them halfway down his thighs. He raised his arms up out of the way as she hooked her thumbs in the waistband of his underwear and pulled them down also. "There you go," she said. "Shall I wait outside until you're finished?"

"No, Mom. You have to...I mean..." he stammered, then finally said, "I can't aim."

"Oh! I'm sorry, dear! I should have known that." She came back up beside him. Looking down, she saw that his t-shirt hung down, covering his genitals. She reached around him with her left hand, her body pressing against his, and lifted the shirttail out of the way. She was taken aback when she saw his penis. It had been years since she had seen him naked, and somehow she hadn't pictured him having a fully mature penis. It hung down, thicker and longer than she had expected, surrounded by a thatch of curly dark hair.

Sensing her son's discomfort, Molly reached down with her right hand and timidly grasped his penis with her fingertips. She lifted it, pointing it toward the center of the bowl and said softly, "Okay, honey." She felt a bit breathless, her face burning hotly although she couldn't say why.

She felt the tension in his body as he strained to let go. Finally, after several long seconds, a trickle of urine came out, quickly turning into a strong golden stream. Molly carefully adjusted the angle of his penis, keeping the pee in the center of the toilet. She felt a piss-shudder run through his body, and heard him sigh in relief. He must have been holding it for some time, putting off the inevitable in his embarrassment. He certainly had a lot in there, she mused, the flow seeming to go on and on as she watched it spray out of the pink head of his penis.

Finally the stream abated, slowing to a trickle once again, then stopping after a few final spurts. "Are you through?" she asked. At his nod, she released his penis and reached over to tear off a sheet of toilet tissue, then used it to wipe the excess moisture from the tip. She felt the tension return to her son's body as she squeezed the head of his penis gently within the tissue and it began to swell in response.

Dropping the soiled tissue into the bowl, she pulled his underwear back up to cover his growing embarrassment. Then she pulled his shorts up and tucked his shirttail back into them, pointedly ignoring the bulge growing in his crotch. When she finished, she flushed the toilet then patted her son on the bottom. "There!" she said cheerily. "Feel better?"

"Yeah, Mom. Thanks," he replied and turned to leave. "I guess I'm gonna lie back down."

"Okay, dear. Yell if you need anything." Molly headed back to her laundry, questioning the anxious feeling in her tummy. She put it down to the shock of seeing how mature her son had become. It had just been so long since she'd seen his penis, she told herself. In fact, it had been more than a year since she'd seen any penis at all. She had dated some after her divorce, but meaningless sex just didn't work for her; she had to love the person she was with. And she hadn't loved anyone for a very long time.

No one except Sean, that is...

That evening, after dinner was over and the dishes were done, Molly got into her nightgown and settled down on the couch to watch TV with Sean. She tried to keep him interested in the comedies. It had been an emotionally trying day for both of them. And it wasn't quite finished yet.

When the show they were watching ended at about 10 o'clock, She switched off the set and turned to Sean. "Well, are you about ready to hit the shower?" He made a wry face in response. "Come on," she urged. "Think how good it will feel after just getting sponge baths for so long." She stood and helped him up, then led him down the hall to the bathroom.

All he was wearing was underwear, shorts and t-shirt. She had him sit on the closed toilet so she could pull the shirt over his head, and then carefully extracted his arms from the sleeves. According to the doctor's instructions, she put a plastic bag over each of his hands to keep the bandages dry, securing them with rubber bands around his forearms. She motioned for him to stand, then pushed his shorts and underwear down in one motion, bending over to pull them off his feet.

Sean stood nervously before her, his hands crossed in front of his crotch in an attempt to cover himself. Molly tried to ease his discomfort by keeping a business-like attitude. She turned on the shower, held her hand out in the spray and adjusted the temperature. Then she turned back to her son. "Ready?"

"Um...I need to use the toilet first," Sean said, his eyes avoiding hers.

So she raised the toilet seat, and for the second time that day, held his penis while he relieved himself. He was beginning to be less embarrassed about asking, but she could tell he was still uncomfortable. Hopefully he would soon get over it and get used to needing her help. She directed his golden stream into the toilet, still a little amazed at being able to aim it wherever she wanted. She had to quell the sudden urge she had to wave it around and create intricate patterns on the surface of the water. When he finished, she flushed the toilet, leaving off with the awkward moment of wiping, as he was about to shower anyway. Then she ushered him into the tub.

Sean stepped into the spray and Molly let him stand there a moment, sighing with pleasure as the hot water soothed his body. Then she picked up the soap and began washing him. She was soon lost in the incredibly sensual pleasure of running her soap-slippery hands all over his firm, young body.

He was a couple of inches taller than her 5'7", lean and hard. He was no longer a skinny boy, she realized as her hands ran over his muscular shoulders and chest, down his firm, flat belly and over his thickly muscled thighs. No, not a boy, she thought as she turned him around and began to soap his back. My son is now a young man.

With his back to her, she took the opportunity to shampoo his hair, there being almost none in the front. After she pushed his head under the shower to rinse the lather away, she again picked up the soap and knelt beside the tub. She washed her way upward, beginning at his ankles, up his hard-muscled calves and thighs, and finally to his firm, rounded buttocks. She kneaded the pliant flesh with both hands, and it was a measure of how relaxed her soapy massage had made him when her fingers delved into the hairy crack between the white cheeks and Sean didn't even flinch. She soaped the area thoroughly and then allowed the suds to rinse away. Then she took hold of his hips and spun him around to face her once again.

Molly glanced up to her son's face. He had his head under the shower, his eyes closed, luxuriating in the hot spray. She spun the soap in her hands, working up a good lather. Then, with a deep breath, she reached toward his masculine hairy crotch. He didn't react when her hands contacted his pelvis, one on either side of his genitals. In fact, he became utterly still, not moving a muscle as she began to work the soap into his groin. But his penis reacted.

As she washed his pubic area, her fingers nudged the base of his penis and occasionally brushed along its sides. It began to grow before her eyes, elongating and thickening, rising into the air. She gently lifted the dangling testicles, washing beneath them, then carefully sudsing the fuzzy balls, rolling them slowly through her fingers. Then she gave a quick scrub to the penis itself, rubbing it lengthwise between her flattened, slippery palms.

By the time she finished rinsing all of the lather away, it stood out and up, fully erect. It was a beautiful cock. That was what it was, she realized—not a boy's pee-pee, but a man's cock. It stood out, long and hard, its shaft smooth and thick, with a single blue vein running along the top. And it was capped with a beautifully flared purple head, not by a bloated knob like some cocks.

Realizing that she was staring, she pulled her eyes away from his manly penis and looked up to find him looking down at her. She gave him a reassuring smile then reached over to shut off the water. She stood and took his elbow, steadying him as he stepped from the tub, then reached for the towel and began to briskly rub him dry, working from his head down to his feet, trying not to linger too long on his aroused genitals.

As she finished, she noticed him staring at her chest. Following his gaze, she looked down and saw that the front of her nightgown had become soaked and was plastered to her chest and belly. The thin material had become completely transparent, revealing her jiggling 36C breasts. Her thick nipples stood out stiffly, the dark aureoles clearly visible. She had been concentrating on Sean so much that she hadn't even noticed.

"Well," she said, running the towel over the front of her gown, "It looks like I got nearly as wet as you did." She looked up to see Sean still staring, seemingly unable to tear his eyes away from her chest. She batted him playfully on the cheek, finally breaking the spell, giggling lightly as he flushed in embarrassment. "Come on," she said, wrapping the towel around his waist. "Let's get you to bed."

She led him across the hall to his bedroom. She got a pair of pajama bottoms from his dresser drawer and pulled the towel off of him. Bending down, she held the pajamas so that he could slip his feet into them, and then pulled them up. She had trouble getting them over his still-erect penis, having to awkwardly push it up to his belly in order to get the waistband over it. She turned down the covers on the bed and helped him to lie down, then pulled the sheet up to his chest, noticing that his eyes still stole furtive glances at her swaying breasts.

"How's that?" she asked when he was finally tucked in.

"Fine," he answered.

"Well then," she said, looking down at him. For a moment, seeing him lying there like that, she was overcome with emotion, her eyes misting over. She leaned down and kissed him on the forehead, whispering, "I'm so glad you're home, son."

"Me too, Mom."

She walked to the door, picking up the discarded towel on the way. "If you need anything just yell, okay?" she said, looking back at him. He nodded. "Good night, Honey," she said, switching off the light.

"'Night, Mom," he answered.

She pulled the door after her, leaving it open enough that she could hear him if he called, then went back into the bathroom. She stripped off the wet gown, throwing it over the curtain rod in the tub to dry. The front of her panties was damp also, so she pulled them off and hung them up as well, then used Sean's towel to dry herself. She slipped into her terrycloth bathrobe and knelt down to wipe up the water that had splattered onto the floor from the shower. I might as well have been in the shower with him, as wet as everything got, she thought ruefully.

When she had finished tidying the bathroom, she went to the kitchen and poured herself a glass of wine, then moved into the darkened living room to sit on the couch and unwind. She put her feet up and sipped her wine, letting the tension ease from her body. She let her mind wander, but it kept coming back to Sean; the lean, tanned body; the feel of his smooth skin under her hands; the beautiful young cock, rock hard and aching to be touched. She sighed. It had been so long... Molly shook her head to clear away these forbidden thoughts.

"You'd better go to bed," she told herself.

Rising, she walked down the hall to her bedroom door, but as she was about to enter, she heard a yelp of pain from Sean's room. Alarmed, she rushed to his door. "Sean? Are you all right?"

"I'm okay, Mom! I don't need any help!" he blurted, but she was already there. She saw that he was out of bed, and he quickly crouched down behind it when she snapped on the light. "I'm okay," he repeated, a panicked look in his eyes.

"What happened?" she asked, coming towards him.

"I just bumped my hand," he tried to explain, but as she came around the bed she saw what he was trying to hide. Somehow he had worked the waistband of his pajamas down, freeing his still massively erect cock. He flushed in embarrassment as she realized that he'd been trying to masturbate.

"Oh, Honey," she said, her voice filled with compassion. She sat on the edge of his bed, pulling him up to sit beside her. He crossed his forearms over his lap, trying to hide his hard-on. "Its okay, Honey," she soothed, putting her arm around him. "You don't have to be embarrassed. I know boys your age need lots of relief." He glanced up at her but didn't say anything, lowering his face again. "It must be terribly frustrating for you," she continued, brushing her fingers through his hair. "Especially since you're used to getting relief every night."

He looked up at her in surprise. "Y-you knew?" She gave him a reassuring smile and nodded. "How?" he asked.

"Your bedsprings squeak," she answered, bouncing lightly on the mattress to demonstrate. She nodded toward the wall that separated their rooms. "The walls are pretty thin."

"I know," he said. "I used to hear you and Dad." Now it was her turn to blush, and he giggled at her surprise. “You would get pretty loud. And dirty, too,” he added. Now she laughed, too. The tension broken, she hugged him lovingly.

"Well," she said finally, "I guess we'd better see what we can do to relax you."

"But what can we do?" he asked plaintively.

"Lie back," she said softly, taking him by the shoulders and easing him back onto the bed. He looked at her questioningly. "The doctor said for you to get lots of rest," she explained. She glanced down at his massive erection, which showed no signs of abating, and continued, "It's clear that you won't get any sleep in that state."

His erection jutted up along his belly. She reached over and took it in her hand, wrapping her slender fingers around the throbbing shaft. He started to protest, but she put her other hand to his lips. "Shh. You would normally do this with your hand, right?" He blushed, and then nodded. "You're supposed to think of me as your hands, remember?" He nodded again, an uncertain look on his face. "Just lie back, then. Close your eyes and think of whatever you normally would. Let me relax you." She began stroking his hard young cock, running her hand up and down its length. He closed his eyes and let out a sigh.

Molly was certainly no stranger to hand jobs, although she hadn't given one in quite some time. And she had never dreamed she'd be giving one to her own son. But she couldn't bear to see him suffering. She loved him too much. She'd do anything she could to make it better. She increased the pace of her hand, pumping his pulsing cock faster, making his heavy balls jiggle wildly. The bedsprings squeaked with her movements, just as she'd been hearing them nearly every night for the last couple of years. She would lie in bed, listening, knowing what her young son was doing on the other side of the wall.

He was so frustrated; it took only a minute for him to reach orgasm. His body stiffened, face screwing up as a low moan escaped his lips. His cock twitched in her fist and he thrust his hips upward. A long, white rope of semen erupted from the tip, shooting two feet straight up into the air, then falling back down, across her hand and onto his tight belly, followed by another, and another as she continued rapidly pumping his spasming prick. Finally, after several more spurts, his hips stopped bucking and he collapsed back onto the bed, breathing heavily.

Molly squeezed her son's penis, milking the last few drops of come from it. She smiled lovingly down at him as he opened his eyes and looked up at her, relief evident on his face. "Feel better now?" she asked softly. He nodded his head, smiling contentedly.

"Well, we certainly did make a mess, didn't we?" she asked with a little laugh. Her hand was covered in hot come. It was all over his belly and pelvis, in his pubic hair. "Is there usually that much?"

"No," he answered, looking down at himself. "There's never been that much before."

"You must have needed it very badly." She released her grip on his softening penis. "I'd better get something to clean this up," she said, rising from the bed.

She walked out of the room and across to the bathroom. Once out of his sight she paused to take a deep breath, trying to quell the butterflies in her tummy as she looked down at her son's semen on her hand. After a moment, she went to the sink and rinsed the spunk away, then wet a towel and carried it back into his room, finding him lying in the same position as she'd left him, eyes drooping on the verge of sleep. He sighed in pleasure as she laid the hot towel across his groin. She let the heat soothe his spent penis for a moment, and then began wiping the slippery cum from his body. When she finished, she pulled his pajamas back up and helped him under the covers.

"Thanks, Mom."

She kissed him tenderly on the forehead. "Go to sleep, Darling," she whispered. "I love you."

"Love you too," he murmured, nearly asleep already.

Molly switched off the light as she left the room, tossed the soiled towel back into the bathroom, and went on to her own room, leaving the door open in case Sean needed her. Suddenly realizing how hot she was, she stripped off her heavy robe and fell on the bed naked, thinking she'd cool off for a bit before getting into a fresh nightgown. But she didn't cool off. She lay there sweating, an anxious feeling in the pit of her stomach, trying to forget how her young son's cock had felt, hot and hard as it convulsed in her hand.

Now that same hand, almost independently of her will, slid down her own body, over her breasts and down her tummy to delve into the furry ruff between her legs. Her fingers snaked through her thick pubic triangle and onward to her quivering slit, finding it seeping with wetness. Her other hand came up to pinch and twist her sensitive nipples as she slipped two fingers into her hot pussy, a soft moan issuing from deep in her throat.

It had been so long since she'd had any sexual contact. She hadn't even masturbated in months. She tried to convince herself that it wasn't her son she was fantasizing about, that it was just some anonymous cock, but as her fingers fucked her burning pussy, deep down it was his cock she was picturing driving into her. Her fingers flew in and out of her churning cunt, her thumb finding the engorged nub of her throbbing clit, rubbing it frantically.

In mere moments she climaxed, a thundering orgasm washing over her, wracking her body with wave after wave of intense pleasure. She writhed upon the bed, moaning throatily as her body convulsed. Finally, after what seemed an eternity, her orgasm subsided, leaving her physically and emotionally drained, quickly falling into the sleep of exhaustion.