Quickie: A Booboo

"Qui--no. Carefully," I replied, imagining the loose skin around my limp cock stretching to painfully shocking limits as the tape got yanked away.

She nodded. Tugging at an end with her fingernail, she managed to get under it. Using one hand to pull the tape and the other to keep my cock steady, she slowly peeled the adhesive strip free. Even so, she had to use a finger to pull the stretching skin of my cock away from the tape as she went around. It wasn't so bad.

Once both sides of the tape were free, she carefully peeled the bandage back, but it got caught on the dried blood. I winced.

She looked up at me. "Sorry, baby."

I nodded.

She tried again.

"Ow."

"Alright," she said, quitting and staring at the place where the gauze clung to the tip of my dick. "Maybe--," she muttered to herself. Then, she brought her finger to her lips and ejected a small dollop of saliva there. "If I moisten it just a teensy bit--," she added, applying the spit to the joint. Pulling carefully, the gauze came free. "There!"

She glanced up at me proudly, and I mastered myself for long enough to mutter, "Thanks."

Spinning from me, she began to gather her next set of supplies. I stood there, astonished. My mom, I told myself, had just rubbed her own spit into my dick. There was mommy saliva on my knob.

The tool she first brought out was a magnifying glass. Do I need to make clear how embarrassing it is when one's mother is on her knees looking at one's dick through a magnifying glass?

"Still swollen," she muttered. "I don't like the redness, but it isn't hot." She moved and looked. She lifted it and felt. "I don't think it's infected."

Putting away the magnifying glass, she cleaned the area with an alcohol swab--ow!--applied a fresh coating of ointment, and bandaged it anew.

"Very good, baby," she said, looking up at me. "I think you're on the mend."

I nodded.

"How good is your mother at nursing?"

"She's the best," I said, nodding appreciatively.

Mom beamed, and then she lifted my cock and kissed the very tip--the slit. Letting it down, she rose and said, "I don't care where my babies are hurt; I'll always kiss them and make them feel better."

Clearing my throat, I muttered, "I know, Mom."

She hugged me, kissed my cheek, and led me out.

***

At five in the morning, I woke up from a deep sleep and freakish dreams. I was in absolute anguish and lathered in sweat. My dick had rebelled; it grew hard in the night.

It wasn't the erection that hurt worst; it was the tape, strangling the knob with ripping force.

I hissed swears as I yanked my boxers down. The shaft was perfectly rigid and straight, but the tape was tugging and bending the tip into hideous deformity. As quickly as I could, I peeled the two strips of adhesive loose, and then I collapsed onto my pillow, gasping and swearing.

Still hard a few minutes later, I rewrapped the tape around the tip. It no longer mattered if the bandage fell off went I went limp. The only thing that concerned me was not having to endure that crippling pain from the tape again. I took two more painkillers and eventually fell back asleep.

I didn't wake up on my own the next morning. Mom came into my room and shook me awake. Rubbing my eyes, I checked the clock. I was only a few minutes later than usual.

"You must have been very tired," Mom remarked, rubbing my hip.

"Yeah."

"Sleep is the great healer," she intoned. "Let's get you up and have a look at your penis."

I threw off the covers while Mom arranged herself on her knees. Forgetting what had happened during the night, I stretched while Mom pulled down my boxers and gasped.

I looked down. The bandage hung limply off the end of my dick, held there only by the tiniest bit of tape.

Mom looked up at me, worried. "Did--did you get hard in the night?"

I nodded, remembering.

"Did it hurt much?"

"Yeah."

She moaned plaintively. Then, she kissed my dick, saying, "My poor baby, no." Three-four-five kisses, she planted, and with each one, she murmured that little "mmm-wu" kissing sound. Finishing, she lifted the shaft and perused the knob. "At least it doesn't look as red or swollen as before."

"Yeah?"

Her thumb stroked the side. Right there, before her eyes, I felt my cock begin to grow.

Mom let it down without acknowledging the unmistakable change, and she rose. She didn't mention it. She caressed my cheek and told me she had an idea, and then she left.

When she came back a few minutes later, she had two bandages prepared. One was in a plastic bag; the other ready to be applied. "This one," she said, lifting the bag, "is in case you grow hard again."

I nodded, feeling a touch of shame.

"Just excuse yourself to the bathroom with it, remove the old one, pull off the plastic, and put it on."

"Okay."

"I tried to make it--make it big enough, you understand?" She handed it to me.

Taking the bag, I nodded, turning even more pink.

"Good," she said, growing a touch flushed, herself. "Let me just put on this other one now."

She did, and when she finished, she kissed the very end of my cock. Per usual, it was a short, gentle peck, but I couldn't help but think that she'd fattened her lips a bit--puckered a tad more than usual.

She rose, petted my hair, kissed my cheek, and left, saying, "Don't forget to keep it dry in your shower."

"I will--I won't--forget, I mean."

***

Dad was on a business trip for the next few days, so I was relieved that I would not be subject to his wisecracks during dinner. Still, table conversation at dinner was a tad boring without him.

Afterward, Mom asked me to meet her in the master bathroom. Smiling, she said, "I found something at the doctor's office today that I think might help."

Standing beside the vanity, I watched her get on her knees in front of me. Her delicate fingers unhooked my belt, unbuttoned my jeans, unzipped them, and drew down my pants and underwear. The same bandage she had applied to my dick in the morning was there, looking clean and well-kept.

"No erection today?" she asked, looking up at me.

I shook my head.

"This looks good," she said. "I don't think there's any need to change it." Her fingers took the shaft and raised it. She looked it over. "Feeling okay?"

"Yeah."

"Any pain?"

"Not much."

"Trouble urinating?"

"No."

"Any problems with your testicles?" she asked, and her palm cupped my scrotum.

I drew in a sharp breath and shook my head.

"Because," she explained, "they could get an infection from this, too."

"They're good."

She released them, sliding her fingers very lightly over the sensitive skin. Then, she shook her head as if there was nothing else for her to do.

I didn't want it to end. "Is--does the rest of it feel okay to you," I asked.

Mom's fingers slid over the shaft. She lifted it and ran her thumb back and forth along the side as she looked it over. "Yes," she said, "I think you're okay."

Our eyes met.

She gave me a sympathetic smile and asked, "Okay?"

I nodded.

"Aw," she murmured in that doting, motherly way, "there's my strong, handsome boy--getting all better." Then, approaching from the side again, she kissed the root of my cock with that "mmm-wu" sound, only this time, I felt her lips latch onto the flesh for the teensiest fraction of a second before pulling back.

Standing, her eyebrows rose high, "Oh, I almost forgot!" She spun and bent over her bin to dig out something. Facing me again, she held it up.

It was a roll of white medical tape, only it was crinkled--scrunched up.

"This," she proclaimed, "is flexible medical tape. It expands and contracts, and even better, it won't fall off." She handed it to me.

I felt it--soft and pliable. I peeled the edge back and felt the adhesive. Grabby, but not too sticky. "Okay," I said.

"Here's the thing. The nurse told me how you put it on. She said if it was going over your knee, then the tape works the best when it is applied as the knee is fully bent. So, you stretch the tape out and stick it on, and when you extend your leg, it scrunches up but stays put."

"Okay."

"So," she said, rolling her eyes with a mixture of embarrassment and mirth, "you'll put it on your penis when it's hard, you see?"

"Oh, right," I said, feeling my face get warm.

"And that way, when it gets soft again, the bandage stays put."

"Okay."

"And this tape can go back and forth--hard-soft-hard-soft--and it will stay put just as if it were on a bending knee."

"Yeah?"

She nodded, smiling as if awaiting my approval.

"Thanks, Mom. Cool find."

She popped on her tippy-toes and kissed my lips. "Why, thank you, baby! I just knew you'd find it helpful."

I nodded.

Growing serious, she said, "I assume you'll know what to do."

'Yeah," I muttered.

"Then, I'll leave you a fresh bit of gauze, and you can put it on when--well, before you go to bed, okay?"

"Yeah."

"And first thing in the morning, I want to know if it worked. So, may I come check on you?"

"Yeah."

***

A few hours later, I climbed into bed with my night light on. The scrunchy tape and the gauze were beside me on my nightstand. The old bandage was wadded up beside them. My boxers were around my thighs, and I stared down at my cock.

I got hard instantly. I didn't even touch my dick. I didn't look at porn; I stared at my dick, and I remembered. I remembered Mom's touches--how her supple thumb dragged back and forth along the shaft. I remembered Mom's kisses--the way she planted five in a row on it after she heard about my painful erection. And the way she'd latched to it--ever so briefly--when she kissed it earlier that evening.

It was easy to put the new bandage on it, and I shut off the light. A part of me felt thrilled by everything that had happened since the barbed-wire fence accident. Another part remained disturbed by those same events, and especially how the remembrance of them brought about the thrumming erection tenting my sheets.

Without any petitions to the contrary, I knew my mom would provide daily care for our injuries from the moment she learned about them until the day they finally healed. However, as I grew older, I was often able to convince her that, at a certain point where she knew I was healing properly, she could let me take care of myself.

I didn't want her to stop this time.

Maybe it was the types of people who lived out in the country where we lived, maybe it was the attitudes of the girls in my class or the grim disgust of our school's sex ed teacher. Whatever the case, I grew up feeling like that part of me--my dick--was basically gross. It was nothing my parents instilled in me; I think it was more of a cultural thing.

So, to see my mom give my cock such tender, affectionate care was a revelation. I liked seeing her examine it. I liked how gently she touched it. I liked how she kissed it, sometimes with heartfelt sympathy and other times with motherly adoration. I wanted her to continue treating my dick.

Yet, my recovery had reached that point where, normally, I could tell her, "Hey, I've got it from here." There was no infection. The puncture wound had scabbed over, and while there remained a small bruise, as long as I kept it clean, it would completely heal. Pissing was no longer a discomfort, and she had solved the bandage-erection problem.

To not ask her to let me take over the remaining rehab was to risk her discovering how much I appreciated and looked forward to how she ministered to my injured cock. But to ask her was to give up those comforting touches for good.

I fell asleep without any answers before my hard-on flagged.

***

Mom woke me when she quietly entered my room that morning. Stretching and yawning, I glanced at the clock and saw that she was five minutes earlier than when I normally got out of bed.

"Hey," I uttered.

"Good morning, baby," she said. She came over and sat on the side of my bed.

I rolled on my side toward her, and she leaned down and kissed my lips.

"Feeling alright this morning?"

I nodded, rubbing my eyes. She caressed my shoulder.

"Sleep well enough?"

"Yeah," I murmured, closing my eyes and enjoying her gentle touch.

"Can I see how the tape worked?"

"Hmm?"

"I would like to see how the new tape worked in keeping the bandage on your penis."

I opened my eyes. "Yeah," I said. Then, I felt it. I was rock-hard. "Wait--."

"What is it, baby?"

"I'm--Mom, it's--." I couldn't finish.

"You're hard right now?"

I nodded sheepishly.

Looking thoughtful for a moment, she replied, "That might mean it is the best time for me to see--if you don't mind showing me."

I opened my mouth and closed it.

"Here," she said soothingly. She put her hands on my shoulders and rolled me onto my back. "Close your eyes and just think of me as your nurse." Her fingers curled under my comforter and sheets, and she began peeling them down. "I'll take the quickest of looks, and we'll be done, okay?"

I couldn't say yes or no. I couldn't move. I kept my eyes tightly shut, feeling the covers drop down over my knees.

She could see it now, I realized. The front of my boxers had to look obnoxiously misshapen. I waited for her to say something.

She didn't.

Her fingers slid under my boxers and stretched them wide. I felt the waistband lower onto my balls. My cock breathed in the morning air.

Mom didn't say a word.

I kept my eyes shut.

She tugged my boxers further down--to my legs. I was completely exposed to her, and I felt like a concrete piling down there. The skin around it felt abnormally--almost painfully--taut.

Why wasn't she saying anything?

Two warm, soft fingers slid along my tummy, underneath my cock. They began to raise my hard-on up, toward the ceiling. It resisted her--that's how hard I was. Adding the remainder of her fingers and grabbing the shaft, Mom brought my cock to a vertical position.

I wanted to open my eyes. What was she doing? Why hadn't she said even a--.

"Well, I would call that a glorious success," she announced. "Look, baby."

I opened my eyes. The bandage was there and in good shape. Mom was right; her new tape had worked. But, I didn't care so much about her scrunchy tape test; I cared about the warm, feminine hand that gripped the base of my cock.

"Yeah," I muttered. "It--it worked."

She smiled appreciatively, and then she looked down at the cock in her fist. Surveying it from a few angles, she remarked, "Just look at how tall and proud you are!"

The joy on her face as she uttered these words transported me. For the first time in my life, I saw my mother through my father's eyes. That long, lush brown hair. Those big eyes and expressive eyebrows. The intimate smile, so ready to share her excitement with me. She was eminently desirable. Beautiful. Thrilling.

I couldn't speak. I swallowed in a dry throat.

Looking at my hard cock, her grin faded into something thoughtful. She turned to me. "Baby, have you been able to ejaculate since this happened?"

"No," I replied. "I mean, it hasn't happened." I swallowed again, feeling myself turn pink.

She let go of the shaft and curled her fingers around my balls. Everything was already scrunched up down there, so the entire contraption fit snugly in her hand. Her fingers undulated comfortingly before she said, "Maybe you ought to make sure there are no problems."

"Yeah?"

She nodded. "Make sure there is no unexpected discomfort," she said. "And have a look at your semen while you're at it. See that there's no discoloration."

"Okay." I must have been bright red at that point.

"Good," she murmured, releasing my balls and setting her hand on my leg with a sigh. "Well, I suppose I'll check on your sisters and get started on breakfast." She stood.

"Mom?"

"Hmm?"

"Will you--?" I hesitated. I didn't know how to ask, but the need was so fierce, the words just spilled from me. "I mean, will you do that thing you do--when you make me feel better?"

She looked at me curiously. She looked at my cock and let out a faint gasp. Turning back to me with a sympathetic smile, she said, "I almost forgot, didn't I?"

I nodded.

She sat by my hip, bent over my hard-on, and whispered, "A big kiss for you this time." She closed her eyes, and as her face approached my cock, her lips fattened and parted. They landed behind the tip and between the two strips of tape--very near that most sensitive of places.

I almost grunted when those soft lips latched onto me. For a full second, she remained, and I felt enough wetness and suction that my cock throbbed just as she drew back with an audible pop.

I know my jaw hung open when Mom sat up and turned to me, smiling and petting my hair. "We can't have me forgetting to kiss my baby's booboo, can we?"

I shook my head, unable to speak.

"Alright," she cooed. Then, she covered me with the sheets, rose, and left my bedroom.

***

I needed to cum. The urge had never been stronger, and I knew that when I did, it would be explosive.

But I didn't snap out a quick jerk off session in my bed that morning. A small part of the decision rested upon the fear that it might actually hurt. A smaller contributing factor was impracticality. I didn't want to do it with the bandage on, and I didn't want to have to make a new bandage. The deciding factor, however, was that I simply didn't want to make myself cum; I wanted my Mom to make me cum. I wanted her to experience the volcanic deluge of semen that lurked inside me.

It was horrible for me to think. Indecent and perverted. I was ashamed of myself, but this fizzling geyser of cum, I told myself, was for Mom.

I didn't even try to pay attention in school. I let my mind relive the previous days, and I lingered on how beautiful my mom was. How caring and attentive. How maddeningly alluring.

I envied my dad so much that my heart ached. He had won the wife lottery, hadn't he?

When I wasn't reminiscing or yearning, I was imagining the next time she inspected my dick. How could I help nudge her from caring to performing? There didn't seem to be any logical next step. From kissing my booboo to stroking my dick seemed an impossible gulf.

And what if I could bridge the gulf? What if I found some ploy, and it worked? What next? Mom's honesty might compel her to tell Dad.

That stopped me. I didn't like the idea that my hideous lust might terribly upset Dad, rob him of his playful sense of humor, and wreck our family.

Maybe what I needed to do, I concluded, was to jerk off tonight and tell Mom that I could take care of myself going forward.

***

After dinner, I met up with some friends to study for a Chemistry test the next day. I returned home just after ten that evening.

My plan was simple. First, jerk off and shower. Then, thank Mom for her help and let her know that I was going to handle things.

I didn't see Mom downstairs, so I went up. Izzy and Hannah were in bed, lights out. Lauren was in the shower. Peering down the hall, I saw light under the master bedroom door and Mom's cackling laughter from behind it. I wandered over and listened.

"You're so naughty!" she said, giggling.

She was on the phone with Dad. I smiled because I knew he was the only person who could both make her laugh that hard and shock her with something inappropriate.

"No, the question is why something like that makes you so--," she stopped, listening to Dad's reply, no doubt.

Something like what? I asked myself.

"I told you. It was an accident," she argued. "Oh, yes it was! I wouldn't--." She suddenly burst into a fresh fit of laughter. Responding to some query from Dad, Mom said, "Because I'd already done it once--by accident--and to not to would have drawn more attention to the accident, made us both feel all the more uncomfortable about it."

Blinking, I realized they might be talking about--.