My husband Peter was away for a few nights on business, not that he would have tried to stop me doing what I wanted with the boys. He had problems keeping his hands to himself when the boys were around. He was in a hotel room, already hard as nails thinking about slipping the boys’ shorts off and revealing their sweet sexual parts. Ten year old Greg was staying in a youth hostel with the football team on the eve of an away game, so Timmy, my eight year old, and I were alone in the house. I wanted to give Timmy his bath. When he was ready to be washed, I played a little trick on him. I sent him out into the garden barefoot, wearing nothing but his brightly coloured RCD diaper to fetch a flower-pot that, I told him, I’d left on the lawn. I hadn’t really left anything, I just wanted to see that beautiful chubby body running, the cupid’s bow lips smiling, buttocks jiggling slightly, breasts moving as he ran, cock unmistakeably picked out by the fabric of the elasticated diaper, breasts curving as he lifted planks to look under them, showing off in the evening sunlight. The breeze was cool enough to harden and raise his little nipples.

“Sorry, Mom,” he said to me when he came back into the house, leaving a trail of footprints across the hallway carpet, “I couldn’t find the flower-pot.”
“It doesn’t matter,” I said, “I was standing here looking out of the window at you while I changed clothes. You’re a beautiful boy.”

I kissed Timmy hard on the mouth and he responded with deep tongue as I ruffled his blond hair. Then I removed the disposable diaper, with its tantalising scent of fresh boy urine, and put it on the coffee table.

Timmy likes bath time, partly because he likes being soaked in hot water and bubble bath and partly because I had changed into my white front-zipper one-piece swimsuit to bath him.

I washed him all over with soap and a flannel, and I mean all over.

“Make sure I’m squeaky clean, Mommy.”
“Do you think there might be some dirt there that I haven’t washed off?”
“There might be.”
“Where?” I whispered so he knew I was expecting a suggestive answer.
“Here.” He pointed to his hairless pubic area.
“All right, here comes the flannel. Legs wide open, darling!”

We went through that ritual a dozen times, soaping and rinsing the little cock and balls, feeling the cock harden, then I checked and double checked his buttocks just in case, and then I picked nude, wet, warm Timmy up out of the bath and dried him off, paying careful attention to the cock, balls and bottom, and I pulled the front zipper of my swimsuit most of the way down so that he could see my tummy.

“If I wear this, may I come to bed with you?” I asked, squeezing his cock gently but effectively, making him (“Oh, Mom, that feels so good, don’t stop!”) rigid. His cock pointed upwards, towards the ceiling lamps, its glossy, grey, rounded tip peeking suggestively out of its sweet, tight foreskin. The testicles were hard, white, on show through the thin beige membrane of the scrotum.
“Yes, Mommy, yes please.”
I took the cock in my mouth for a second and licked it all the way along. “See you in a minute, darling. Those beautiful balls you have need more attention.”
“Can I wear a bra for the night?”
“Sure, honey,” I said, pleased that my little boy had a taste for showing off his body in enticing lingerie already. “Which one?”
“Can I wear the pink one?”
“Oh!“ He meant the red Ten Cate bra with home made padding to give his little flat chest some shape. Wearing it, he was a 26B with nipples like thimbles nearly poking through his brassiere. “You sexy boy. Of course. I’ll bring it along. No panties, mind.”
He was disappointed. “Oh! Please.”
“All right. The red Speedos, will they be OK? Or the gym knickers?”
“Speedos,” Timmy grinned and nodded.
“I’ll bring those too.”

Timmy nodded and smiled. He had Ten Cate briefs in his cupboard which looked cute and girly and matched the brassiere, but the tight crotch cut uncomfortably into his balls, so we bought bright red Speedos.

“Do you really want me to wear this one-piece?” I asked him.
“Could you wear the pink babydoll and no panties,” he said immediately. He loved me to wear the babydoll. Completely sheer, it came down to just above the crotch so he could see everything, and it was tight over my breasts so my nipples were on show. I loved his reponse to it. I’ve had boyfriends who got less excited about it.
“Sure, honey. Bed now.”

A second or two later I heard Timmy call down from upstairs, “Remember to wear perfume.”
“Sure, honey. Do you want some too?”
“Yeah. Eros pour Femme.” Months ago I had treated Timmy to a small bottle of it, and the scent really turned him on. So I sprayed myself with Guérlain and found the Eros for Timmy, changed into my pink babydoll, clean shaven, no panties, and I had the cane and a special toy, I was ready to go and sit with Timmy.

The special toy was a short piece of rubber tubing, about an inch in diameter, about an inch and a half long and open at both ends. It was this short tube that had suggested to me the game I was about to play with Timmy. I would need the cane in case it got out of hand: eight year old boys have strong emotions and they can rape if teased and provoked, so I needed to be able to punish him quickly and firmly if the need arose. Nothing calms a child down like a regulation cane. I certainly intended to tease him and provoke him.

I breezed into Timmy’s room in my short, sheer orange Nastydress babydoll, switching the light off as I entered. Timmy was lying on the left hand side of the boys’ double bed, so I climbed into the empty right hand side. “Are you a little girl or a little boy tonight?” I asked Timmy.
“I’m a girl.” Timmy giggled, knowing that by wearing a bra and panties he was doing something extraordinary and highly sexual.
“And what’s your name, little girl?”
“I’m called Thea.” It was his femme name. “And I love your perfume, Mom.”

I kissed him on the mouth and he kissed me back, sensuously and hard. I tongued him, and he giggled sweetly.

“Hey, what do you like to wear?” I asked him.
“When I’m dressed, I wear brassiere, panties, garter belt, a short dress, stockings and high heels,” he recited, “and a diaper if I need one. But in bed I’m wearing bra and panties.”
“A diaper?“ I tried to look exaggeratedly surprised. “Why does a beautiful girl like you need to wear a diaper?”
Timmy blushed bright red. “Because I wet my panties.”
“You wet your panties?“ I acted shocked and horrified. “My, oh, my. Are you going to wet your panties now?”
“Oh, no, Mommy, please… I’m not wearing a diaper! Oh—“

I rested one hand low on Timmy’s tummy and pinched hard enough to make him urinate. His face turned two shades redder.

“Ooh,” I said, “you’ve pissed in your panties. Naughty Thea. You’ve drenched your speedos. That’s beautiful. Let’s take a look.”

Slowly I pulled his bedclothes down so that I could see him all the way down to his ankles. The padded bra made him look like a well developed schoolgirl. But his cock was obvious, hard and rising inside the his tight speedos.

“What a beauty,” I said. “Here, let me spray you with perfume. Cover your eyes.”

I gave him a quick spray of Eros pour Femme. Neck and armpits. Oh, that smelled nice. Timmy smelled like Paradise.

“You can open your eyes now,” I said. Those wide blue eyes opened and blinked. I fell in love with him for the fiftieth time and I rested three fingers on that sweet cock. “You’re a gorgeous girl and you have a sweet little cock.”
“Give me a hand job,” said Timmy.
“Just you wait. I have a new game we can play.”

I put the palm of my hand onto Timmy’s cock and felt it rise, stretching the wet speedos tighter.

“What’s this?” I asked him, fingering the bump in his panties.

Timmy was too embarrassed to answer, so I said “Show me,” and I pulled the speedos down to mid thigh. “My,” I said, “that looks gorgeous.”

I slid the speedos down to Timmy’s ankles so that the cock was fully on show.

“Now I have a new game to play,” I said. “I am going to put this little tube over your cock and then you are going to dip me.”

I dropped the tube onto Timmy’s penis and, as I’d hoped, the tip extended about half an inch out of the end of the tube. The tube was a very loose fit so it would keep a distance between him and me but it wouldn’t stimulate him at all. Then, carefully and slowly, I straddled his hips and let the tip of the cock dip into me by half an inch or so. The tube didn’t allow Timmy to press it any further into me, and I felt quite safe. I felt the tip moving slightly between my labia as one very excited little boy tried, and failed, to push it deeper.

I had never felt happy about letting the boys slip all the way into me, although both boys were still orgasming dry so there was no risk of them making me pregnant. I was on the pill anyway, as any wife with boyfriends needs to be. Without the little rubber tube I wouldn’t have allowed Timmy to dip me. I couldn’t allow him to feel that he was becoming the alpha male. He was still mine, in love with me but not in control.

Timmy was pushing the cock against me hard, trying to slide deeper into me. It was deeply erotic watching his hips rise and push hard, but the little tube had the better of him.

“Mom, take it off!” I’d made Timmy desperate, which honestly I had been hoping to do. He picked the tube up and tossed it onto the floor.

“Pick it up,” I said, “and give it to me. Give me the cane, too. I think you’ve forgotten what a hot bottom feels like.”
“Oh, Mom!“ Timmy gave me the tube and I put it on the bed. I took the cane from him and flexed it. “Oh, Mom,” he pleaded, “it hurts! You don’t understand.”
“You crossed the line. Bend over the edge of the bed. Lift your bottom. Legs straight, face down.”

His bottom was beautiful. Two smooth globes pressed together, creating a straight, tight cleft that seemed to ask for a deeply inserted, well lubricated finger pushed inside as far as it could go. But the buttocks were being presented for punishment. I gave him two hard whacks with the cane, enough to leave hot, dark red marks.

“Please don’t— Ow! Mom— OW!”
“Now lie down,” I said, “and don’t try taking the tube off again, or you’ll have a sore bottom for a week.”

I lay Timmy on the bed face up and looked for a moment into those red eyes with their sweet tears. I stroked Timmy’s cock until it was thick and straight, like a child’s crayon, with the grey tip fully bare and pushing out of the beige foreskin. I slipped the rubber tube back over the cock. Straddling him, I positioned myself so that the tip of the cock would slip between my labia. I put my hand over my labia, just to stop him for a moment.

“How’s your bottom?” I asked him.
“Sore.”
“Good,” I said. “Just remember I have the cane here and don’t try to have full sex. Now,” I moved my hand out of the way and tickled the foreskin for an instant, “push inside as far as you can.”

He was teasing me viciously, if he only knew, giving me the tip when I needed the whole shaft. My husband Peter was going to need to perform when he next came home. I was teasing Timmy, too, with our little improvised sex toy.

“Does it feel nice?” I asked Timmy.
“Oh, Mom, if only I could get it all into you, that would be great!”
“Don’t you dare. How does it feel?”
“Tight,” he smiled, “warm, a bit moist.”
“Push harder for me. Oh! Again. Oh, yes!“
“You like that, Mom?” He gave another hard thrust. The temptation to let him push the whole way in was tremendous.
“Timmy, you are a sex god,” I told him. “Do you think, if you carry on thrusting your sweet hips like that, you will reach your orgasm?”
“I might,” he said.
“Try, then,” I smiled, “see if you can.”

Timmy pushed hard, relaxed, pulled out a little, and pushed again. I was watching his pink brassiere moving against his chest, sweat beginning to moisten its cups and the cock gradually straightening and growing.

“Push!” I said, and I gasped (“Oh! Oh!”) as he touched off an intense, orgasmic tingling in my vulva. “Christ, that was good.”

Timmy pressed into me again, this time managing to get the ridge of his penis into my vulva, touching off more tingling. A little drip of sweat ran down his tummy and splashed onto the sheet.

“Wow, that was good.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
“I really love you, Timmy.”
“I love you too, Mom, I really love it when you let me push—”
“Aah!” Timmy was bringing me dangerously close to the orgasm. “Push!”

Timmy’s hips, suddenly twice as powerful as before, forced the hard cock an inch, maybe an inch and a half into the vag. I was on the cusp and soaking, leaking fluid onto Timmy’s pubis. The restraining tube was pushing hard against my pubic curves and I expected to find a bruise.
“God, that is good,” I told him. “Do it again— Aah, aah... Yes!”

My orgasm started as his cock ridge rubbed against my labia. The tingle spread outwards, explosively, consuming me with desire and happiness. My heart raced. I was red faced, breathing heavily, desperate to make love to the full with my sweet, small boy with blue eyes, blond hair, cherub lips and two inches of narrow, hard, hot cock.

“Would you like to push your cock a bit deeper?” I asked him. My voice was trembling. I knew where this would lead, and it meant a very sore bottom for Timmy.
“Yes.” The blue eyes flashed desire.
“You can fuck me all the way in. You’ll get caned afterwards. Low down on the backside, where it hurts. Four smacks.”
“Let me, Mom. Let me.”

I lifted myself away from Timmy’s cock and lifted the toy off him. I put it onto the sheet and it rolled onto the floor with a thud. I held the cock in my fingers for a few seconds, letting Timmy feel the encroaching pain of blue balls. I teased him deliberately and let the throbbing pain start. I made his desperate to get the full length of his little cock into my vag. The only thing he could think about now was fucking me hard.

“Now you can slip it inside,” I said, “all the way. Go slowly.”
“Mom! But you’re going to cane me.”
“Yes. You fuck me, you get a blazing hot backside. You’ll cry. But I’m giving you a chance. You might never get into me again.”

I held the grey tip of Timmy’s cock against my labia and he raised his hips, pushing it hard along my vag. I felt the tip, and that gorgeous ridge, set off a deep wave of pleasure. I moaned out loud. “Oh, yes! Yes!”, Timmy, a sex god in the making, pulled out almost completely and then pushed the cock back into me, making me arch my back, press against his hips and moan again, “Ohhhhhh,” louder.

Timmy’s pubic bone was pressing against mine. The tip of his cock suddenly jolted forwards as though he were pumping me full of boy milk. His red face was gasping, his hair was soaked with sweat, his eyes closed. He was in full orgasm. I let him thrust inside me. “Mom, oh, ohh, Mom…” I felt my vag suddenly tighten around his cock like a fist wringing out the liquid and the pleasure. I put my hand underneath his head and lifted him, so that those perfect lips came to my left breast. He sucked gently through the material of the babydoll. “You sexy, sexy child.” His cock softened and slipped out of me.

We lay together, holding one another close, dozed off for a while, and when I came to, my first thought was to hold in my right hand the cock and balls that had given me such intense love. The cock was limp and the tip was moist. I tickled the tip and I made it uncoil, harden and straighten itself in a few seconds. I ran my fingertips over the ridge. Timmy opened his eyes.

“You’re a naughty boy,” I said, “fucking your Mother like that. I shall cane you.”
“Was I a good fuck?”
“You were perfect, darling. I can still feel your cock, where it was touching me. Your girlfriends, when you have them, will be very happy.”
“Are you really going to cane me?”
“Yes. You fuck your Mother, you get the stick. Shall I do it now, or later, or when Greg gets home and he can watch? Or maybe Daddy would like to beat you.”
“No, you do it,” said Timmy, a little shyly, adding, “I love the way your breasts move as you spank. I get hard watching you.”
“And the pain?”
“I deserve it, Mom.”

Timmy pulled the red speedos up, from ankles to bottom, and placed himself over the side of the bed.

“No,” I said, “slip the speedos right down to your ankles.”

On Timmy’s beautiful uncovered bottom, I could see the straight purple marks of the caning I had administered twenty minutes ago. I picked the cane up again and flexed it.

Whack! I wasn’t playing. This spanking was going to burn. Timmy yelped (“Ow!”) shocked at the boiling heat of the stick. A straight line flared up deep red along the spank line. He’d been stung but not really hurt yet.

Whack! I landed the smack as hard as I could. Timmy rocked forwards and squealed as the pain began. His cheeks turned red, and his eyes were ready to cry. This punishment hurt.

Whack! The third smack, hard across the buttocks, brought the tears out. The sweetest moment of spanking a child was seeing him trying not to cry, then losing the struggle and being overcome by the throbbing, scalded backside. Timmy sniffed and wailed (“Oooooh,”) and thumped the mattress with his fists, (“Not fair! That hurts!”).

I told Timmy to move his feet apart, and I pressed a finger against his B spot, making him erect. Then I lay the flat of my hand onto his balls, pressing firmly enough to hurt.

“Buttocks raised,” I said. Timmy lifted his backside into a cute, sweet arch and WHACK! I burned a deep red line across his rear, making him scream with pain for a few seconds. “There,” I said, “I’ve finished, and if you ever push your cock into me again, you will get twelve. Pull your pants up and lie face up on the with your legs apart.”

Timmy’s face was hot, wet and deep red. He stood and pulled the red speedos back up, rubbed his sore backside with both hands, then lay on the bed, face up. My hand returned to his cock. It was already stiff. I pulled his speedos to the side, exposing the cock so that it rose into the palm of my hand. I held it near the tip and gently rocked the foreskin to and fro. I watched him gasp with pleasure.

I changed my grip on the cock slightly, holding the shaft and moving the foreskin lightly.

“That’s good, isn’t it,” I said, making him really feel the pleasure.
“Yes, Mom.”
“Do you want to come, sweety?” I asked him.
“Yes, Mom.”

I pumped his cock carefully, holding the balls lightly, circling my finger nail around the B spot, letting him take his time over reaching orgasm, and I felt the base of his cock rhythmically contracting hard as his young prostate tried to pump a load of milk.

“Good boy,” I said. “I love you.�
“I shall never want a girlfriend,” he said, “because you do everything for me, Mom.”