Message-ID: <759eli$9705091927@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Archived-At: <URL:http://www.netusa.net/~eli/erotica/assm/Year97/759> Path: qz!news.accessus.net!not-for-mail X-Path-Preload: news.accessus.net preloaded to thwart rogue canceller there Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam Approved: <usenet-approval@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded <story-admin@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Story-Submission: <story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us> From: paddy22@aol.com (Paddy22) Subject: (story) "Minding Mike" Usual gubbins. Don't read this if you're not old enough, or if you can't read. No copyright. -------------------------------------------------------------------------- MINDING MIKE by Paddy Toute -------------------------------------------------------------------------- "Could you stay for an hour or so and watch over Mike while I go and do my shopping?" The question came from my best friend, June. I was round at her house for a coffee. Mike, her 16 year-old son, was recovering from a nasty accident at work. Some acid had been knocked over on to his bench and had spilled, resulting in nasty burns to his hands and lower legs. He had come out of hospital that morning and was in bed getting some sleep. "Sure, why not." I said. I'd known June since childhood, and there's little we wouldn't do for each other. "The nurses at the hospital said he'd be quite sleepy most of the day, so he shouldn't give you any problems. He shouldn't get hungry or thirsty, and if he needs to pee, there's a bottle under the bed." June left, and I switched on the kettle to make another coffee. I went in to Mike's bedroom to check on him. Sure enough, he was asleep. I stood there for a moment, watching, thinking how much he had changed in the last couple of years. He had always been a slender child, and remained so as a teenager, his pale skin contrasting sharply with his dark hair, eyebrows and long lashes. I went back into the kitchen, made my tea and switched on the television. I was surfing various channels in a vain attempt to find something worth watching when I heard Mike's voice from the bedroom. "Mom? MOM? Are you there?" Damn, I thought. I must have woken him when I checked on him. I went through to the bedroom. He was sitting up in bed, and was, not surprisingly, a little startled to see me appear instead of his mother. "Oh, it's you, Mrs. Johnson. Is mum around?" I told him why I was there, and he wilted somewhat, apparently a little uncomfortable. After a couple of seconds' internal struggle, he said "I need to, erm, you know, go to the toilet. To wee." His cheeks had reddened somewhat, and I felt sorry for him in his embarrassment. "Oh, is that all?" I said, and stooped down to produce the bottle from under the bed. "There you go. I won't stay and watch" I said, putting the bottle beside him on the bed. "Erm, thanks Mrs. Johnson" he said. "But there's another problem". And with this he pulled his hands from beneath the duvet. Despite his obvious discomfort, I had to stifle a laugh, because his hands were both bandaged up like something from a cartoon. The burns he'd sustained must have been extensive, because from a couple of inches above his wrists downwards, he was a mass of white bandage. In fact, his spindly arms looked more like a couple of cotton buds than anything else. I did of course, now see his difficulty. There was no way he could manouvre his penis to the hole in the bottle, (an old-style milk bottle). I realised he would need a little assistance. Mike's face was by now bright red, and he was looking anywhere in the room except at me. I decided to adopt a brisk, workmanlike tone to try to defuse the situation. "Mike, it's okay. I'm a mother too, remember? I'm sure it's nothing I haven't seen before. Let's get this over with, shall we?" Without further ado, I flipped back the duvet to reveal Mike's reproductive equipment. His penis lay nestled against his thigh, curled up like some small creature hibernating for the winter. Not for long, though. As I encircled it with my fingers and felt its warmth, I felt it start to enlarge, and at such a speed that I managed to get just the head into the neck of the bottle, but no more. It was jammed in there as tightly as any champagne cork. Not content with expanding, it was also lengthening. I let it go and watched, transfixed as the bottle began its journey down Mike's leg. Down and down it went, seemingly set on a collision course with his kneecap. It didn't make it (it stopped about half way down), but the show wasn't over yet. Now it began to rise off Mike's leg, and within a few seconds was practically at right angles to his supine body. "Well, we do seem to have a problem, don't we?" I said. Mike was clearly acutely embarrassed. He didn't know where to look, but I knew he really needed to pee. Taking a deep breath, I said "Look, Mike. What I am about to do is to remain strictly private between ourselves. I am going to relieve your.. err.. problem in the best and quickest way I know." And with that, I encircled Mike's shaft with my fist. Its warmth surprised me. It had been so long since I actually touched my husband's penis with my hand. The nearest I usually got to it was when he tried to stick it in me on his return from the pub on Friday nights. It was as hard as marble, yet strangely soft against my skin, and I could feel it pulse in time to Mike's fluttering heartbeat. Looking Mike in the eye, I began to slowly raise and lower my hand up and down his iron shaft. The bottle wobbled on the end, but Mike's purple head was jammed in there so tight, I realised it was going nowhere. I slowly increased the tempo of my ministrations, and noticed a subtle change in Mike. He no longer looked embarrassed and terrified, but was clearly enjoying this impromptu hand job. His eyes were closed, his head slightly over to one side, and a beatific smile played across his features. There was a slight flush in his cheeks, but I knew this was a sign of impending climax rather than anything else. His breathing quickened noticably, and I knew his end was near. I felt his shaft expand under my clenched, pumping fist, and for a bizarre moment found myself wondering what would happen if his penis head tried to expand further. Would it break itself open, leaving him to bleed to death? Or would it shatter the bottle? Suddenly, I felt his penis jerk uncontrollably within my grasp, and Mike let out a groan. I watched, transfixed as his cock-hole, magnified by the bottle, winked, and shot out the first spurt of his seed. It splashed against the bottom of the bottle and began to run down the sides. Before it reached the bottom, it had been joined by three more splashes, and within seconds there was a pool of sperm at the neck of the bottle, around his penis head. It wasn't many moments before Mike's penis began to deflate, and I was able to remove the bottle without spilling most of his seed. Fetching a cloth, I cleaned him up, hoping his mother wouldn't notice what had been going on when she bathed him later! Soon, Mike was ready to pee, and so the bottle's contents were added to. Mike, now relieved in more ways than one, was now showing signs of embarrassment again. It must have been difficult for him. After all, it's not every day your mom's best friend comes into your bedroom and jacks you off into a milk bottle... Back in the kitchen, I was sitting with my coat on awaiting June's return, drinking a remorseful cup of coffee, and trying to console myself with the thought that I had acted for the best back there, when she arrived. I hastily set my cup down, and made for the door. "Hey, what's the rush?" said June "Something came up. Gotta go" I said. -------------------------------------------------------------------------- Transferred from brain to screen 28/29 April 1997 -- +--------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `------------+ | story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us | story-admin@qz.little-neck.ny.us | | Archive site +--------------------+------------------+ Newsgroup FAQ | \ <URL:http://www.netusa.net/~eli/erotica/assm/> .../assm/faq.html> /