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At what point does curiosity become an obsession? When does a want become a need?

The curiosity started with another taboo, the reading of someone else’s diary. Memories were rekindled, teenage fantasies recalled and, initially at least, occasional and idle thoughts were born.

A few days after the initial shock, the first idle thoughts of “I wonder if I could, I wonder if I should” were easily defeated by “NO! I shouldn’t even be thinking of it”.

Most of the musings in those early days were less confrontational to think about; the irony of it; after all these years and now I have one right here under my own nose. I guess that in a way it means I got what I’ve always wanted and I didn’t even know it.

Overcoming the taboo of the diary had been easy. The first time she had found it, it was unlocked, and besides, how else was she to understand the life and dreams of a son she’d never known. He rarely spoke of those years, except to say that “Dad always looked after me, it’s just that the life wasn’t for me”; and when she asked about his loves and wishes for the future, he seemed either too shy or too naive of the world to know what was out there to want.

She had no doubt his body and soul would have been well cared for, but under the cloistered religious care of his zealot father, his social skills had never developed. His shyness was not borne from timidity; it came from not knowing a world of choice. With his father, there was a choice to retreat from the rare social interactions with others or to remain and minister the lord’s word. If he chose to retreat, he was encouraged to spend the time in quiet prayer. When he reached puberty, more often than not when he retreated, he would spend the time masturbating.

When he turned 18 his father allowed him a new choice, to stay and minister the lord in manly partnership, or to cast himself out into the sea of sinners. He chose the latter. Two days later he turned up on the doorstep of the mother he’d been taken from at age 3 and begged forgiveness and a place to stay till he learned how to earn his own money.

After three months they were getting comfortable in each others company and becoming more a family than the two strangers who had hugged and cried through the first week and then spent the next weeks not sure what to say.

His politeness still held a shyness that would remain forever at the front of his character, but each day he explored more and more of the world around him. He said what he did and didn’t like about a certain TV show, he decided he wanted to learn to play golf, and more and more often she saw him shyly glancing and smiling at girls at the local mall.

The day before she saw the diary, he conceded he’d never had a girlfriend but that he hoped one day he would get married “to someone as beautiful as you Mrs Robinson”. He still did that, occasionally lapsing into formalities and forgetting Mrs Robinson was actually “mom”.

At first the diary was a disappointment. She had hoped to discover stories of his youth but it appeared he had bought the thing as a personal present on his 18th birthday. Apart from a dreary description of the two day bus ride to meet her, the rest was about a life she already knew; the one in this house over the past three months. She was pleased that by the second month, he was beginning to express himself more and write about his feelings and interests. He was developing quickly and she was proud of the career aspirations he wrote of and the things he saw as important in a given day.

Three weeks ago the diary writings had changed, and with it the embryo of an obsession began to gestate inside her.

He wrote; “I like to jerk off” (the word masturbate had been written first but then crossed out) “so I’ve decided that in future I’ll write about some of the things I like to jerk off about”. He had written once or twice before about masturbating but it was the words following that had an affect on her. “Jerking off today was different from usual because I found out something about my penis today (entries in a few weeks would see the word written as “cock”); it felt different because today I found out my penis is bigger than normal. I saw a show on TV that said the average length of an erect penis is around 6 inches. After the show I got hard and measured mine and it is 9 inches. I don’t know if that is much bigger than normal or if there is just a lot at 9 inches and a lot at 3 inches, but it made me feel good to know it is above average.”

My god, he’s huge, she thought. That’s my boy. She was proud of him and for him. She put the diary back and considered she had invaded his privacy enough, and thought no more about it; until bedtime, when an idle memory popped into her head. She had always fantasised about sex with a giant cock. As luck would have it, she’d only ever bedded Mr Average, or his junior. She’d never seen, touched, or fucked, a cock bigger than 6 and half inches.

As the years and lovers went by, bursa escort bayan she’d forgotten about those younger girls passions; she’d had fantastic orgasms with 3 inch cocks and was no more excited when they were twice that length inside her. Experience had taught her that size doesn’t matter, but still she laughed at the irony that she literally had given birth to her teenage dream.

She was reminded of it two or three times over the next day or so. The first time she saw him after she’d read the diary she felt a tinge of embarrassment but still couldn’t stop herself glancing at his groin. When she heard him in the shower the next morning she was reminded and wondered how long a limp giant is when dangling freely down a wet leg; and those teenage fantasies came into her head for no apparent reason when she was watching TV. Each time, she thought nothing sexual of her son; it was just a distant memory prompted then forgotten; she saw the cock and never the face neither her sons nor any other face). It was a large cock she wanted not the man attached to it.

After a while she began to wonder whether her imagination was the same as the reality, would a cock that is 9 inches erect be as long as she imagined when limp? She wasn’t aware of any rule (divide length of erect cock by two to work out limp length); indeed she was sure she’d seen some cocks hardly grow at all and some seemed to swell to 10 times there size.

How long is my sons cock when limp, how wide across? Why hadn’t he written those dimensions in the diary? She tried to imagine her sons cock limp and then couldn’t remember if it was circumcised or not; there were religious considerations and that meant his father would have been in charge of decisions to cut or not cut. She tried to imagine limp circumcised and limp uncut cocks, but she couldn’t conjure up a satisfactorily clear enough image of either; not of one that would swell to nine inches anyway.

By the morning of the third day she had the first idle thoughts of “I wonder if I could, I wonder if I should, I wonder if I can, find a way to see his cock”.

“NO! I shouldn’t even be thinking of it” survived for the next three days as the answer.

On the seventh day she had a long debate with herself.

I only want to see it. I don’t want to touch it or fuck it; he’s my son. It doesn’t even have to be erect. I just want to see what a big one looks like, I deserve it after all these years, besides a mother should know for sure if her son is circumcised or not. but I cant just ask him to show me, I mean he’d be too embarrassed, maybe if I just walk in on him in the shower, but how could I do that and make it seem an accident, no I shouldn’t do it, by why not, no it might not be right, what about when he’s in bed maybe I could take a peek when he’s asleep, no he might wake up, maybe when he’s getting dressed or going to bed or something, I wonder if he would mind, no maybe I couldn’t, I might catch him jerking off and it would embarrass him, I could tell him its ok and then leave, it would be alright if I saw it wouldn’t it?

She masturbated furiously that night. She dreamt a nightmare of giant cocks, from 8 inches long to 10 feet tall, all cock and no body, chasing her down, raping her, filling her every hole. She woke late at the sound of water running in the shower and masturbated violently.

She spent much of the 8th day moralising over those dreams and self passions. None of those cocks were my sons, I was just randy that’s all, they were different sizes and colours they couldn’t have all been his, its just a big cock I want, not my son, if I see his cock then I wont be so curious, I’ll know what they look like, if he’s soft that will be ok because I’ll see what its like and be able to imagine it hard, it doesn’t have to be hard when I see him, soft will be ok, soft will be better for him, he wont be as shy as he might be when I see him hard, if I see his cock then I wont have to think about them anymore, maybe he’s since written in his diary how big it is limp.

And that decided her to commit a taboo she swore she never would. She hunted down the key to break into his diary.

She sat on his bed and flicked straight to the page with the penis statistics. She read them over three or four times, creating vivid mental images each time – her minds eye watching him doing the measuring, a sudden thought taking her eyes from the page, scanning the bedside table then opening the draw to find a ruler, holding it in her lap and slowly following the increments – one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine – her thumb sliding along the scale.

She never did find the limp dick measurements and most of the entries up to the present were relatively mundane; with one exception from 5 days ago. With the hindsight that the entry offered, she knew now why he’d said at least once a day every day since “you should wear that summer dress more often, it really suits you”. görükle escort The entry included one new statistic and gave birth to another series of battles between the forces of morality and the forces of curiosity – a morality already weakened by almost a lifetime of separation that meant there were no strong unbinding bonds between them, and an unfulfilled curiosity ever strengthened by the growing dominance of obsession.

Sunday May 14 – almost saw all of moms (the words “Mrs Robinson” were crossed out before it) tits. She had on this real light summer dress and bent over right in front of me. I could see all the way down the front with her boobs hanging down. I had to move to see to the side and see her nipples but she stood up just as I was about to see one. I wanted to reach into that dress and see what they feel like. As soon as I started seeing them hanging down like that I could feel my cock (“penis” was crossed out) starting to swell. I had to come in here and jerk off and oh boy did I jerk off. I broke my cum shooting record by 3 inches, the pencil mark is now 22 inches higher up the wall than the top of my stiff cock. She looked up; there was indeed a pencil mark on the wall with a tiny 22 written beside it.

For the rest of that day, morality waged the war on the grounds that it’s wrong to think of your mother sexually. Obsession told curiosity to use itself as an argument – its not really me he wants is it, he is just curious, a young man his age should have seen nipples by now, should have touched them by now, that’s all it is, he’s just curious to see nipples, its only natural he should be curious at his age, it would do his development good if he saw some nipples, if he sees my nipples and gets hard then where’s the harm in that. Obsession was whispering like Gollum in her ear, yessss and if he gets hard seeing your nipples then you’ll see the outline of his cock in his pants and then curiosity will be satisfied because you’ll know what a 9 inch cock looks like.

No doubt exhausted by the day’s mental torment, she slept soundly that night. The next morning Morality felt refreshed by the rest and told her to quickly dress in something else other than his favourite summer dress. Obsession said nothing she could hear, so she slipped on a daggy old cotton dress that was from an era when her body was two sizes bigger. “Quick! before you change your mind”, barked Morality, and she fled the room to make breakfast. Obsession smirked. In her haste to dress quickly in something plain, she had overlooked any underwear.

There were two buttons under the collar of the dress. Without telling her, Obsession undid both as she heard him going down the hall to his morning shower. “Honey, come and have a cup of tea first, I’ve just made a fresh pot”.

He came in as her back was turned and, taking a seat across the table from her, said with some disappointment “Awww, you never wear my favourite dress, it suits you so well”.

She turned and leaned low across the table to slide him a cup of tea. She was on auto pilot, or maybe it was obsession pilot? and made the move across and back up as slowly as she dared. With the buttons undone and the dress too big, the cotton front hung low and both tits were in full view. She checked his eyes as she was rising to make sure he’d seen, jackpot jackpot jackpot clanged his dilating pupils.

“That dress suits you too” he said in recovery; then soon after “can I have some sugar for my tea please”. She knew what he was after so leaned an elbow on the table and made sure the dress gaped, and slowly spooned one “no two today please” lumps into his cup.

She stood while he drank, occasionally resting her arms and elbows on the table to lean over and talk. She gave him one last good look as he finished the cup and said “ok, now off to the shower and I’ll make some bacon and eggs for when you get out”. He was bare-chested; she knew that below the table he would be wrapped in a towel.

“Ummm, err, I might just stay here and talk while you make it, I’ll shower after ok”. He’s got an erection under there that he’s too embarrassed to stand up and show, curiosity whispered to her.

“No, come on, you’ll feel better after the shower” she said and turned her back so he could make a move unseen. “Hang on a sec” she said and turned just as he’d stood and turned to move away, “is this yours?”

He wouldn’t turn his body and looked over his shoulder. “What?” he said, looking first to see what she held in her hands and then down the front of her dress as she stretched across the table with something hidden cupped in her hands. The attraction of the tit view was enough for him to turn, but he did so with his hands held together in front of him. It was what she had expected and it was why she did what she did next.

As he bent slightly to look at the thing she held, or rather, he pretended to look; he really bent to get the best fullest view he’d had yet of those two bursa escort bayan tits – he couldn’t help but imagine reaching in and fondling them till he came – with his vision distracted, she flicked something out of her fingers, shooting fast toward his face. It brought on the automated response she was relying upon; he recoiled quickly and put his hands to his face for protection.

He caught the coin and was studying it for signs that it was indeed his. While he took the few seconds to react to all this, she was taking a long hard look at a long hard cock outlined under the towel; lying flat across his stomach and over his left hip. It looked hugely bigger than anything she’d seen under a towel before.

“No, its not mine” he turned quickly and started out the door toward the shower, curiosity whirring through his mind – did she see, of course she saw, what did she think when she saw, does she know what got it hard, should I say something, like what, does she know I saw her tits, gee they were great, I wonder what her pussy looks like, I tried to see but couldn’t, if I’d seen it I probably would have cum straight away, gee those nipples looked soooo good, I wish I could fuck her, I am going to have such a big jerk off in that shower.

Her mind was also processing a vision. Morality sat up in her death bed and said, “Well you can certainly say you’ve seen a big cock now, that should satisfy Curiosity.”

“Shut up you stupid bitch” said Obsession and threw a pillow over the face of Morality, “you think that counts as seeing a big cock?”

“Wait, I’ll join you” she said and almost ran down the hall to join him.

“WHAT!?” he said, sure he didn’t hear what he thought he heard; maybe she said nothing at all and it was the fantasy playing in his head that he heard.

She was beside him at the bathroom door, opened it and beckoned him in. “Come on, my shoulders and back muscles are so tired, I just need a back scrub to liven them up.” She was already turning the taps on to adjust the temp, “don’t be embarrassed honey, I noticed your towel and I know you have an erection, it’s normal, most men wake up in the morning with a hard-on and usually it’s gone by the time they get out of the shower, it’s natural, I won’t look I’ll have my back turned all the time”, and with that she lifted the dress over her head and stepped under the water and faced the wall. c’mon, help these old bones wake up”, she said, reaching behind her to put a scrubbing pad and soap into his hand and lifting her arms up to rest on the wall in front of her.

He was in a daze and rested the un-soaped pad between her shoulders, all the time staring at the naked ass, naked back, naked mom, naked dream.

She looked over her shoulder into his face and laughed “don’t be silly, you’re not even in the shower, do I have to turn around and take that towel off you or are you going to get in here and do this right?”

“NO, I’ll do it, but you have to turn around.”

“No problem”, she faced the wall and felt an exhilarating rush of goose pimples crawl all over her when she felt in him splash in behind her.

“Make sure you soap up the pad first, and then gently scrub up and down and around the sides of my back and over my shoulders. Yes, like that, that’s good.”

After a few more words of encouragement, he got into a rhythm that really was relieving the stress and enlivening her skin. All the while taking in as much of the nakedness as his eyes could swallow, wishing his cock would go down but not knowing how it ever could with what was in front of it. He even moved his hips back and forth a few times to fuck the four inches of air that separated his cock and her back. Her ass, he could rest his cock in the ass cleavage if he moved forward only a few inches. He was thinking of just that, how he could ‘accidentally’ touch her with his cock, when she moved a little and did exactly that – bumped her back onto his cock.

“Oh, err sorry” he said taking the blame.

“That’s ok honey, it’s not a big shower and I expected we’d bump and touch occasionally, I don’t mind, no big deal, you’re doing such a good job there on my back I don’t mind.”

He’d been trying to get adventurous with his hands, rubbing her sides, under the arms, fingers daring to go over the top of the shoulders. Every time he got to feel just the start of the swelling of her breasts, his shyness would defeat him and he’d return to safe territory. However, Her comments of not minding and expecting to bump occasionally, did embolden him and he moved in closer and ‘accidentally’ rested the shaft of his cock in the crevice as long as he dared – perhaps a second or two at the most.

“Mmm that feels so good, you should get a job as a masseuse, now let me do you and I’m out of here.” And she turned around. They took in each others frontal nakedness for just a brief moment; he unable to hide the boy-in-a-lolly-shop look on his face at the sight of first pussy hair, she trying to be as nonchalant as possible and hide her girl-in-a-lolly-shop look at the most magnificent cock she had ever dreamed of seeing.

As matter-of-factly as possible, “you have a nice member, you should be proud, now stop waving it at me and turn around and I’ll show you what a good back scrub feels like.”

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