How Does A Young Boy Know? by Truthful Mother and Son
How Does A Young Boy Know?
I don't know what I was thinking as he lay there naked, eyes closed tight, breathing hard, trying desperately, using his hands, to keep himself covered from my sight. I hadn't seen him naked since he was six or seven years old, I suppose, when I last supervised his bath. Then he was just a little boy. Now, at thirteen, he was so beautiful that I simply could not take my eyes off him!
A swimmer nearly all his life, forever in the water, "my little waterbug" had the classic, lean physique which reflected all those days at the pool and beach. When it came to being around water - in it, on it, near it - he lived up to his water-sign birth. He was a true Scorpio. And I knew, with all a Mother's love, underneath those tightly closed eyelids were the deepest, most sensitive, brown eyes this world had ever been graced with. Silently, sitting on the bed beside him, I looked down at my son. Why I had pulled the blanket completely off him, I can not say. A teasing self-indulgence, maybe. Or, perhaps, I had hoped that he was still naked. He was! He was so beautifully naked. But I also knew my baby was in pain.
For the first time in years, I had seen him naked. Not only naked, but naked on the back porch and shaking his penis back and forth like I don't know what. I had never seen him so embarrassed. Also, I had never seen his cute little butt run so fast down a hallway!
But now I was in a dilemma. Having come in to his bedroom, I could not simply turn around and walk out, closing the door behind me. He would never come out again. He was that modest and shy. He felt things too much. I knew I had to ease his discomfort, to prevent this from becoming a shameful memory. Oddly, without meaning anything more, the only solution I could think of was to be naked with him.
Sitting on the bed, trying to disturb him as little as I could, I hiked my dress up over my hips and then over my head. My bra and panties followed. For a moment, completely naked, I wondered what would happen if, just now, he opened his eyes. Then, gently, I lay down beside him.
I think I kissed his forehead. I know I wrapped my arms around him, drawing him close to my breast.
His response could only be described as a "squawk".
Amused, I lifted my head and looked into eyes as large as dinner plates. David's mouth was agape, and I thought he was going to hyperventilate. It was now his turn. He was seeing me naked for the first time. Smiling to myself, I again kissed his forehead and drew him close.
David's head nestled almost perfectly against my breasts. His arms, I guess instinctively, went around me. A deep warmth came up from between us. His belly and mine were flat against each other. I could just feel his penis, not erect, against my upper thigh. Letting myself sink down into the depths of a Mother's love, I felt all would be right.
Then, to my astonishment, David pushed his knee completely up between my legs!
What a sudden, unexpected, thrill I felt as his warm thigh came to rest right up against my groin. Gasping, I could not believe he had any sexual experience. When? Where? With whom? This had to have been an accident or, again, some instinctive response. All I knew for sure was that my son was holding me in a tight embrace, his head was nestled close against my breasts, and his thigh was firmly between my legs.
I had to know. Carefully disentangling my body from his, I rolled onto my belly and raised up onto my elbows.
"David, have you ever been naked like this before - with a girl your age, maybe?"
"No", he replied very quietly. I saw that he was staring at my breasts so I lowered myself, resting my head on crossed arms.
Facing him, looking into his eyes, I knew there was no reason not to believe him. His openness and honesty with me had always been unquestionable. In that sense, he was just like his late-father.
(When he was twelve, the family story goes, my husband-to-be, all caught up with self-discovery, had run naked from the bath exclaiming, "Mom! Dad! Look! I've got a pubic hair!")
Now, as my son lay naked beside me, what could I do but believe him. Rolling onto my side, I again drew him into my arms.
"Sweetheart," I said, "any embarrassment you feel will pass. I am as naked as you are, and there is no harm in it. What's important is that you don't feel ashamed." I then quoted from some woman's magazine, "'Underneath our clothes we are, all, still naked.'"
David then snuggled closer to me ...and took my nipple into his mouth!
How can I describe my feelings?
One Mother, shocked, feeling it was wrong, wanted to pull away. Another Mother, intensely loving, feeling it was right, wanted to hold her baby close. I found myself gently caressing David's back, murmuring baby talk, as he suckled.
How, I wondered, by what stars, did my young son know how to give such basic, simple pleasure?
As his lips softly tugged at my breast, and his tongue gently enveloped my nipple, I again felt his knee press against my thighs. For a moment I resisted. Then, giving in to the pleasure of close body contact, I opened my legs to him.
God, it felt good!
It had been months and months since I had felt anything but my own hands between my legs. Now this warm thigh, covered only with peach fuzz, was pressed tightly against my clitoris. It was such a relief. Slowly, tentatively, I began to rub myself.
As if in a dream, I wondered. Did David realize I was masturbating? Yes, he must have understood. Shifting his body a little, he came close to me again. I now felt his erect penis against my tummy. Then he began to lightly rub himself against me. My God, I thought, I'm masturbating with my son! Falling into a rhythm, my excitement built, and my hands began to wander.
Rolling onto my back, I pulled him over on top of me. Running my hands up and down the length of his back, I cupped his bottom with both hands. Then I pulled his body hard against me! Given such unspoken permission, David now began to thrust hard against my belly. Strong, rhythmic thrusts.
How does he know? God, how does he know?
His knee was no longer between my legs, so I moved my hand down. As I pushed my hand between our bodies, I wondered, should I touch him? Should I take his penis into my hand? Should I take him inside of me?
No, no, God, no.
As David continued thrusting against me, I cupped my hand over my mons, parted my labia, and began caressing my clitoris. I dipped a finger into my vagina. Wet. I was very wet.
"David, baby, this is not wrong. Oh, darling baby, this can't be wrong!" Increasing the speed of my fingers, I came. So soon, so intensely. As I gasped for breath, I felt my son quicken his thrusts against my belly.
He is going to come, I thought. My baby is going to come on me.
Thrusting hard, David pushed his chest up off me. Elbows locked, magnificently dominant, he stared me straight in the eyes. My breasts shook as my son dry-fucked my belly. Did he sense there was something better?
Then, with wonder, I watched my son come. There was no sperm or mess, he was still too young. There was only the incredible sight of my child achieving orgasm. I had given my son this joy!
As he lay down exhausted upon me, I wrapped my arms around him. I felt his heart beating wildly against my breast. I felt his breathing coming in rapid pants against the side of my face. In the afterglow of sex, I wondered how wrong was this? Was it wrong at all?
Rolling myself and David over, me on top, I kissed his face, his eyes, his lips. I placed my hand on his now half-erect penis, and lightly caressed his hairless scrotum. I gently rolled his small testicles between my fingers. Then I realized that David had only said one word throughout our lovemaking.
When asked whether he had ever been naked with someone before, he had said, "No".
So how does a young boy know?