Answers for Michael — Chapter 02 by I Ain’t Write

“Michael, what is going on? Did something happen tonight?” She asked, unable to hide the apprehension in her voice as she descended the stairs into the den. She had been right, he was there. Only one dim light in the far corner of the room lit the den, but she could clearly see her son sitting deeply into the cushions of the overstuffed couch. He sat, unmoving, staring straight ahead.

“Did you mean what you said? I can talk to you about anything. Ask you anything?” He asked evenly. She moved to the corner of the couch, leaning her weight against it. Without noticing, she pulled the light robe she wore a little more tightly around her.

“What happened tonight?” she asked softly. He held out his right arm and patted the open space on the sofa beside him.

“Sit next to me.” She wasn’t sure why this alarmed her, but it did. Sit? Fuck. Waking her up in the middle of the night demanding her help, and now…a “sit-down?” It didn’t sound good. She rounded the corner of the couch and sat down beside him. She had bent one leg beneath her and the other on the floor. Typically, her self-consciousness would have alerted her to the fact that she was revealing a lot of skin on that reclined leg. Her robe and nightgown had ridden high as she sank into cushions beside him, but her concern, fear for what might have happened, kept her focus on listening to him.

“I meant what I said, son. Anything. We can talk about anything.” Silence. She waited for him to come out with it, but he continued to sit in silence. “What happened, love? Did something go wrong on your date? Did…did anyone get hurt?” This question might seem a little over the top, but she had good reason to ask.

Three years ago, he had been kicking his soccer ball around the backyard. He gave the ball a strike that was hard enough to loft it over the fence into the next-door neighbor’s lawn. Rory, their neighbor, was a curmudgeon who seldom showed his sour face around the neighborhood. When he did, no one’s life was improved by it.

Del had just poked her head out the glass slider to tell Michael dinner was ready when she heard Rory’s voice from the other side of the fence.

“Ah, look at this,” their neighbor croaked from the other side of the fence, “It’s my ball now.” She saw Michael frozen in place, hands clenched into fists, staring at the white slats. Coincidentally, two weeks later a fire swept through Rory’s home killing him. It was ruled accidental – smoking in bed. But what struck fear in Del’s heart was that at the height of the chaos of the fire, their block filled with first-responders beating back the flames, she saw Michael in the backyard kicking his ball, which had somehow, magically reappeared. With each strike she heard him say, “Ah, look at this, it’s my ball now, you fuck.” Her mind refused to connect the events, the fire and the return of his ball, but her heart knew that they were.

“No, mom,” Michael turned to look at her, “no one was hurt. But there is something wrong with me and I need you to tell me what it is.”

“There is nothing wrong with you, son.” She reached out, resting her arm along the back of the couch and ran her fingers through his hair. “Did your date not…meet your expectations?”

“No. It did not.” He stated with a measure that belied his anger. Del smiled at him, hoping to defuse the rage she felt emanating from him, anger so profound she could nearly smell it, taste it in the air of the dimly lit room.

“I tried to tell you, Michael. Girls your age are all about the tease and the chase.” She offered lightly, ruffling his hair and smiling broadly hoping he would read her affect accurately. “As soon as they know they have your interest, they hop away like scared little bunnies when you try to call their bluff.”

“Is that what you did when you were in high school, mom? Did you tease and run?” His question felt a bit trappy, so she decided to deflect it entirely.

“Your mom was a good girl. I did not tease; therefore, I didn’t have to run.” His eyes were locked on hers as if he were reading what was written on her soul.

“I think your right about Brie and Mikayla. I didn’t expect to get much relief from either of them.” He said as he turned his head away from her, releasing her from the intensity of his gaze for the moment. “I didn’t have to do much before they got triggered. I put Brie’s hand on my hard dick over my jeans and she bolted out of the movie theater. And I brushed myself against Mikayla at a party we went to, and she “suddenly” remembered that she had to do something for her mom at home. Both of them…the moment they touched me they freaked out and…escaped.”

“Escaped?” Del said, unable to hide the concern in her voice.

“Well, you know, got away.” He added, dismissing her concern. “The dates with Brie and Mikayla were practice. No doubt they went to shit, but I didn’t want to go into my date tonight with zero experience.”

Del frowned. She felt horrible for him. These teasing, little bitches had her son spun around, and they had no idea what kind of fire they were playing with. “Ah, look at this, it’s my ball now, you fuck.” He had said as the neighbor’s house burned. They had no idea at all what he was capable of, nor did she for that matter.

She cocked her head in such a way the dim light caught her facial features perfectly. In the soft balance of light and shadow, she could have passed for a movie star. The light dancing in her velvet, almond-shaped eyes set above her aristocratic cheekbones, shaved all the years off her age; in that moment she could have been mistaken for Michael’s classmate, not his mother.

“Michael, don’t put so much pressure on yourself.” She whispered, though she wasn’t sure why she felt the need to be so quiet.

“Pressure?” He turned to her again, his eyes had gone dark. “You have no idea how much pressure I’m feeling. Brie and Mikayla were practice for tonight. I went to Amanda’s house…her parents are gone for the weekend.”

Del was not very active within the PTA and didn’t attend a lot of events because Michael just didn’t participate. But she knew a few other parents, and gossip is always quick among that lot, so she had heard a few things about a girl named, Amanda.

“She fucks everyone,” Michael drove his story on, “She has a Finstagram account where she posts dick-pics of each guy she has fucked and once she’s had you, she sends you an invitation to follow her after she’s posted your dick.” Michael opened his phone, tapped on the Instagram icon and did a quick search for ZWKO, which brought up an account marked “private.” There was a photo of an obviously very young girl, dressed and posed in a way to add a year or two to her age. She had long, beautiful red hair pulled to the side, cascading down in the best possible way to accentuate and define her breasts beneath a thin white t-shirt. Her nipples were visible and looked delicious to Del, though she didn’t understand why she thought of them in that way. The girl had one hand on her hip which was thrust out sharply, outlining the perfect shape of her young ass. Amanda was on fire. “You can’t see her account, but look, she has 72 posts.” Michael had leaned in close to Del to show her his phone, but she was lost. It was as if he was speaking a foreign language to her; Finstagram, Instagram, posts, private account…and was he saying dick-pics?

“I’m sorry, I don’t understand. 72 posts?” She asked.

“Pictures, mom. Each post is a picture. She has posted 72 pictures of dicks she has fucked; I was supposed to be number 73.” He closed the phone and dropped it to his side but did not give up any of the ground he had closed between himself and his mom. His head was now glancing against her left shoulder as he educated her about the purpose of social media.

“I think that’s impossible. How old is she?” Del asked.

“She’s a year younger than me.” He said, lowering his head as if in shame, but it was only anger she felt radiating from him, no shame at all.

“See,” She said, smiling again, “that’s impossible. There is no way a girl that young has had sex with 72 different boys and posted pictures of their…penises on the internet.” She giggled as said this to underscore the absurdity of the claim.

“I’ve seen the account. Joe, he fucked her. He showed me her account on his phone. He can get in because there is a picture of his dick and she invited him.” Michael was nearly trembling in his rage now.

“She fu- she had sex with your friend, Joe?” He turned to her and nodded. Joe was the only “friend” Michael had in school, or, what would pass as a friend. They had come up together through school. Joe was not attractive. He was a wisp of a boy, so pale and thin, he looked fragile, like a strong wind could shatter him to pieces. He was also plagued with early onset of acne that made his face look like the surface of Mars. Joe had fucked, Amanda? Del suddenly understood the fuel of Michael’s rage. Michael was no stud-muffin, jock, but he was beautiful. His body had put on a lot of muscle over the summer, so he had lost the cut of a boy for the frame of a young man. His dark curly hair naturally held a style that so many boys his age tried for so studiously. His eyes were beautifully formed crescents, the pupils, so black they looked like intense pools of ink. His nose straight, thin and in perfect proportion with his other features. But his lips, his lips were precise replicas of his mother’s, in fact the only physical feature that they shared, and they were perfect, a cupid’s bow with equal thickness, top and bottom. Del was always proud that he had her lips; if he were going to inherit only one feature from her, he might as well get her best. She had always been complimented about her smile. And there was that one time…

“She fucked Joe. She fucked that little prick. But she wouldn’t fuck me tonight.” Michael spat.

“Hey.” Del said, gently pushing at his shoulder trying to break up the intensity of his mood. “There’s no accounting for taste. Some girls are into that nerdy thing, you know that.”

“It’s not the looks. Everything was going great. She took me to her parents’ room because she said she wanted to play in their big bed. We laid down together and started kissing and touching. I slid my hand inside her pants, under her panties, and she was soaking wet. I had three fingers inside her pussy before I knew it, without even trying.”

“Michael!” Del spoke. She realized she had lost herself in his narrative, forgetting that the subject was her son and some young thot from his school. She could almost see her son’s fingers disappearing beneath the waistband of Amanda’s yoga pants, could she them working the girl’s pussy beneath the fabric. She found herself wondering if she shaved her pussy smooth, or, knowing the rarity of her bright red hair, had let it grow giving her what some men would call a fire-crotch. Del’s breath had deepened and she felt blood flowing to places she did not want it to now. This was her son. And his friend. Preparing to have sex.

“You said I could talk to you. You are going to listen, mom. There is something very wrong with me and you are going to help me figure out what it is, tonight, right now.” She could tell he was agitated by his own story as well; the black pupils of his eyes had expanded to the point she could see very little of the whites.

“Yes, I will listen. It’s just…it’s very graphic. I don’t think I was expecting you to be so crude.” She didn’t want to shut him down. He was angry and she was honestly frightened of him when he was in this state.

“I’m just telling you what happened. Exactly how it happened. I don’t want to leave anything out. I’m not telling you this for fun and games, I want to know what is wrong so I can fix it because I feel like I’m about to lose my mind.” Again, his eyes locked on hers, giving now quarter.

“You were touching her. She was very wet. Then what happened, son?” She might as well move it forward since hearing the full story was nothing short of inevitable.

“This was the first pussy I have ever had my fingers inside of. I was fascinated with the texture of it. I could feel the cords of muscle beneath the smoothness. I was surprised how small and tight it was, like, how does a dick fit inside this tiny place. I crooked my fingers inside her and she screamed, and I felt wet everywhere. The slickness inside her pussy was replaced by something thinner, it was like she peed. Her pants were soaked. I looked up at her face and she was staring at me, grinning. She said, “Ooops, you made me squirt.” I asked her if that was okay? She said, there is not a better feeling in the world, and she was impressed that I found her spot so quickly. She said, get your clothes off because now its my turn to make you squirt. She started pulling off her clothes, and I did the same. I got my shirt and pants off. By then, she was completely naked. She laid back and pulled her knees back with her hands and I was mesmerized by the look of her, the beauty of her. The only other time I had seen a pussy so completely exposed was when I saw yours, mom.”

Now, he had brought her pussy into the story. That wasn’t fair. Yet, why did she feel this twinge of competitiveness welling up in her chest beneath her breasts. She pulled her left arm in that had been laid along the back of the couch and, a bit self-consciously, pulled her robe closed, shielding the fact that her nipples were quite interested in his story as well. They had become unexpected fans.

“Yes, well, we talked about that, remember? About knocking?” She reminded him.

“All I’m saying is that seeing her completely exposed and offering herself to me gave me a feeling that was very similar to the feeling I had when I saw you.” His statement was almost clinical…he was trying to sift through all the details, rummaging around to make sure that nothing escaped their scrutiny. He would have his answers.

“Men respond strongly to visual impulses.” She offered as an explanation.

“I think girls do to, because that’s what happened next. She responded very strongly to a “visual impulse,” as you put it. I dropped my underwear and climbed up on the bed, kind of knee-walking toward her. I was almost between her legs when she screamed and backed away from me. I mean, like a crab that had been tossed on the beach in front of bunch of seagulls. She scuttled back so fast she fell of the edge of the bed onto the floor and kept on going until she was in the corner of the room. She said, “You’re a freak. A freak. You’re not going to put that inside me. There is no way in hell. Put it away. Put it away and get the fuck out of my house, freak!” Del saw actual tears, just two of them, roll down Michael’s face as he shared her reaction.

“What did you do, hon?” Del feared what his next move might be in the story, even though he said no one got hurt. The teasing little whore, she thought as she felt her own anger build inside her. Her son had given Amanda a nice finger-bang, made her cum, and she had opened herself to him. She felt horrible for her son. He had already confided that he was a virgin. That he did not masturbate. And that he was suffering from the most severe case of blue balls in the history of the world. He went to the right place. This Amanda bitch was supposed to be the sure thing for him and at the penultimate moment, when he was about to sink his cock inside that tight, wet, fire-crotch, she had cock-blocked, humiliated and embarrassed him. Part of her hoped that he had thrown the little bitch back onto the bed and sunk his frustration into her against her will. Wait. Wait. What the fuck was she thinking? “Michael? What did you do next?”

“I got dressed. I came home. I got you out of bed.” Del sighed deeply, at least the police wouldn’t be knocking on her door in a few hours.

“Thank God, honey. You did the right-”

“I’m going to show you.” He interrupted her and she fell silent. “I’m going to show it to you, and you are going to tell me what’s wrong with it. You are going to tell me why she called me freak.” The tone of his voice indicated that there would be no room for negotiation; he would have his answer. Del could hear the blood rushing in her ears as she watched Michael reach for his belt, pushing the tongue back through the loop.

“Wait, Michael. Wait. I need a second.” And she did need a second. Her mind was on overload, as if someone had reached into the fusebox of her mind and intentionally crossed all the wires. She was already upset with herself for reacting physically to the details of his story; ashamed would be a more accurate de***********ion. And of course, she wanted to help him, he deserved to know what caused such a reaction from that fucking little cunt! (Calm down, Del) However, she didn’t feel comfortable sitting next to her son in their dimly lit den while he presented his cock- penis for her to inspect. “Look, I can take you to the doctor today. One of dad’s friends is married to a urologist and I’m sure we can get an-“

“No!” Spit shot from his mouth as the word seethed from between his lips and clenched teeth as he turned to her. His right hand flew to her throat on its own accord and gripped her firmly. “I’m not going to a fucking doctor. Like I haven’t already been embarrassed enough?” Del was frozen, paralyzed by the violence of his gesture and the dark pools of his eyes. He hadn’t hurt her. The grip wasn’t painful, but it was firm, and it did mean business. “I’m very angry, mom. You know things happen when I get this angry. You don’t want me to be angry, do you?” Del couldn’t speak. She had no breath for it. All she could do was shake her head slightly in the negative. “You are going to check my cock, mom, and you are going to tell me what is wrong with it. Agreed?” She hesitated. “Agreed?” He repeated with a little more force and she felt the fingers around her throat tighten just a few more foot-pounds for emphasis. Fear ran amok through her body. She surrendered to it and slowly nodded “yes.”

Michael removed his hand from her throat. Only then did he seem to realize that he had threatened her with bodily harm.

“I’m sorry, mom, I didn’t mean to do that. It’s just, I need to know. I have to know whats wrong with me.” Del retreated into the corner of the sofa, wrapping her arms around her knees. The posture offered no defense, really, but it drew a little more space between the two of them and that gave her some relief.

“You don’t have to threaten me, Michael.” Her words sounded so small to her.

“I said I was sorry. I didn’t mean it. Just…help me.” His hands finished releasing the buckle on his belt then popped open the button of his jeans. Del felt like she was in a nightmare world as she tried to sink further into the cushions. The sound of him pulling down the zipper reverberated brightly in her mind. She closed her eyes tightly and her hands cupped her ears hoping that if she could silence the noise, she would wake from this terrible dream and find herself safely wrapped in the arms of her husband.

Instead, she felt movement from his side of the sofa, as he stood to remove his pants and settled back down. This was no dream. She felt a nudge to her shoulder.

“Mom.” Del opened her eyes. She was right. He had removed his pants which he had laid across his lap, his naked thighs and knees poking up from either side. “You can’t see from there. Come here.” She felt herself trying to disappear completely into the couch but then she felt his grip around her wrist this time, as he pulled her to kneel beside him on the couch. Her robe parted revealing her nightgown beneath. The nipples of her breasts were impossibly erect now, drawn taught from fear this time.

“Okay, Michael. me.” She watched him reach for his jeans and slowly pull them away from his lap until the fabric seemed to bounce one time and then a bar of flesh lept free, seemed to hover in the air, as he revealed his cock to his mother’s eyes. She stared in silence.

Michael’s cock arced majestically from the thatch of dark, curly hair between his legs. It continued to bounce gently with each heartbeat making it appear as though it were its own creature, something alive and apart from Michael, which it most certainly was not. The word, truncheon came to Del’s mind. The base was a solid three inches across where it sank below his pubes and thickened beautifully along the 8 inches of arching length before giving way to the oversized, plum-shaped head, flanked by a sharply defined corona. It continued to bob, as though it were breathing, and it drooled a thick string of pre-cum that stretched from his urethra, all the way down to couch. Del made a mental note that she would have to clean tomorrow.

“Mom?” She really had no idea how long she had been kneeling there, staring at her son’s massive cock without speaking, but Michael’s voice broke through her reverie and brought her back to the moment before her. “Mom, what’s wrong with me? Why am I a freak?”

Del felt all her fear melt away and replaced by anger once again as she remembered what had put this chain of events into motion, that bitch, Amanda. She had called her precious boy, the apple of her eye, a “freak.” She had whipped her son up into a sexual crisis and then embarrassed, shamed and humiliated him, that shallow cunt!

“Michael, look at me.” She said softly. He turned to meet her eyes and she saw that he was genuinely concerned about Amanda’s criticisms. Michael always felt ostracized, set apart from others and she could see he was afraid that this would be one more thing to wall him off from other people. That bitch.

“I want you to look right into my eyes when I tell you this, so you know, so you know in your bones that what I am saying is the absolute truth, okay?” She saw him blink then, stealing himself for the horrible news she was about to share with him. “Michael, you have a beautiful, strong penis. There is not a single thing wrong with it, there is nothing freakish about it. YOU don’t have the problem; Amanda has the problem.”

“I don’t understand, mom.” He said, searching her eyes for truth. “She’s seen at least 72 cocks, up close and personal. If there was nothing wrong with mine, why did she react that way? There’s got to be something wrong.” Del moved from her kneeling position, to her corner of the couch. It felt good to stretch her legs out. She casually pulled the robe closed again; she had gotten a bit chilly.

“Son, before we continue, would you take your jeans and wipe up the pre-cum that’s leaking from your penis? It could leave a stain.” Michael quickly took the leg of his jeans and mopped up the mess his cock was making. When he was done, he threw the jeans off to his side again and leaned back further into the couch. Del assumed he would cover up after he was done, instead, his new, reclined position pushed his rock-hard penis more obscenely into the air. It had to be 10…10 and a half inches, Del mused, as she watched it continue to throb.

“Okay, so your friend may have…entertained 72 penises (or would that be peni?), but what I can tell you is that she has never seen a penis like yours. You are not a freak, you have been blessed with a wonderfully large, substantially larger than average penis. That’s all. For a young girl like Amanda who is used to playing around with boys, she didn’t know what to think when you pulled out your larger than man-sized, penis. She overreacted.” Del shrugged.

“It’s larger than man-sized?” He asked.

“Very much so.” She smiled at the surreal nature of the situation and conversation. He had no inhibition, no qualms sitting there next to her with his erect monster gently rising and falling beside her. She noticed that a pool of pre-cum had welled up at the tip again.

“It’s bigger than dad’s?” She didn’t like the direction this question was taking their conversation, but she was afraid to shut it down or risk being dishonest with him and undo the progress she was making reassuring Michael that he was normal, just above average.

“Just so we understand…this is a confidential conversation between us. What we discuss here doesn’t get discussed anywhere else, with anyone else. Other people wouldn’t understand, okay?” She cocked her head a little bit to make sure he understood that she was serious.

“I understand. That’s why I had to come to you with this. I can’t trust anyone else.” He agreed.

“Good. Would you do me a favor before I answer that question, would you mind covering it with your jeans? It’s a little distracting.” She asked, careful not to sound like she was in any way intimidated by his member. She had seen it, assessed it, now he could put it away.

“I can’t right now, mom. The weight of the jeans bends it down and it’s painful that way. It will eventually go down and then I can cover it.” She didn’t have a response for that. She was sure that he was being honest, it probably hurt like hell.

“You don’t masturbate? Ever?”

“No.” He replied simply. “It’s not my job.”

“I’m just saying that its natural, and when you get this aroused to the point that its painful, it can bring you a lot of relief.” Holy shit, didn’t she know that firsthand? As she said this, she watched a large, clear drop of pre-cum slide from the tip, down the frenulum where it detached from the shaft and dangled in midair as sagged down to the couch. Her lips felt dry.

“You didn’t answer me. It’s bigger than dad’s?”

“Yes, Michael.” She found herself turning her volume down to a whisper. “It’s bigger, substantially bigger than David’s, but he doesn’t need to know that, okay?” Larger than David’s, larger than the plastic cock she had hidden in her sweater drawer, she thought. “Again, this is between us. Some men get very self-conscious about the size of their penis. Let’s just leave it at that. Having a penis as big as yours will be challenge for you when it comes to these little girls. They won’t have any idea what to do with it. There are a lot of grown women who would be intimidated by your size. But, for the right woman, a woman who can accommodate you…you will be a rock star. You will make some woman out there a very happy person.” Del thought she handled that little speech well. She was proud.

“How do you know so much about the size of penises, mom?” He asked. “How many have you seen?” Del giggled.

“Not a chance, buster boy. I’m not about to share my body count with you.” She found herself blushing a little.

“It’s just…you said you were a good girl in high school. You and dad got married right after high school…am I missing something? Have you ever seen a cock as big as mine?” He was testing her, forcing her to defend her expertise, her assessment of him. She watched another pearl strand drip from the tip of his cock down to the couch.

“Clever boy…” She stalled for a moment before plunging right in. “You don’t have to see all penises to know when one is small, average, above average and so on. There are a lot of articles online that you might want to read to confirm what I’m telling you.” She bit her lip, trying to decide what she was going to say next, she decided on the truth. “Michael, your penis is the third penis I’ve actually seen for real, besides what I’ve seen in magazines, in porn…yes I watch it occasionally. David’s penis was the first penis I ever saw, after we were married. Like I said, I was a good girl.” Michael’s eyes narrowed a bit.

“So, if dad’s was the first, and mine is the third…” Del raised her eyebrows and nodded.

“The second penis I ever saw was a little bit bigger than yours. Not by much. But yes, a little longer and a little thicker.” Her eyes fell away from his to the floor.

“Did you…cheat on dad? Did you have an affair?” Del frowned.

“No. Nothing like that son.” She took a deep breath, and, on the exhale, she came right out with it. “I was raped. I was raped by one of David’s friends two months after we were married. I haven’t shared that with anyone.”

Michael’s gaze held her fast. There was no avoiding it, no escaping it. Del was positive that Michael was completely past allowing his prospects to “escape.” “Ah, look at this, it’s my ball now, you fuck,” echoed in her mind. She was nearly overwhelmed by the absurd, surreal tableau she found herself within, trapped.

“I want to know.” He said. “I want to know everything that happened.”

Chapter 3?

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