grown up verseXelizabethrose

[Verse]

Samuel didn't really know who he was anymore.

Growing up in this house, with a father who was now gone, and a mother who'd been his world, he'd taken on the role of a good son. It was easy. Really. They told you what to do, and even how to do it. He was a content little brat running around this home, making memories and stupid stories. It had been enough for him. It had been all he had. He liked it.

But then he started not to. He wanted other things. In fact, he wanted whatever was the opposite of what they told him. His impulses were ballistic. He tested them on other children, until their cried and their noses bled. There was something in that exchange that Samuel liked. It made him feel good and excited, and then, when he looked at the actions that had brought him there, he felt guilt. And that only fed further outbursts.

For a while he thought that's why dad wasn't with them anymore. Whatever. But it wasn't whatever. Not to a young boy. He tried to keep busy, tried all kinds of physical activity; boxing, track, a stint of volleyball. It fed his body. Girls did too. They gravitated toward him and this whirlwind of things he'd become. He indulged in their bodies and learned the value of his own. He'd built himself into something large to fit all the things he wanted.

He was thinking about it now, in the shower. He had all these things that other people wanted, wanted to be part of, and worship. The young man, recently an adult, grabbed himself to get some release. The fleshy rod had seen a lot of new indulgences lately, and he meant to sate it and let the product run down the drain with the water. And then he thought about something else. Some better use. It was the worst idea; ideologically bad. But he hadn't been able to quell his impulses lately. He was angry and full of vengeance and uproar and-- want. He wanted comfort, but the kind that he could take from someone. Comfort. Like

"MOM!" he shouted and turned off the water. It was a bad idea, as he stepped out of the shower, and stood on the rug in the bathroom with every reflective surface fogged up. His shoulders were hulking, and there were shadows between every muscle even in this blurring light. But most of all, when the woman came in, because she always did when her son called, there was his limb. She'd remember it to be larger than her husband's. Thick and proud, dangling there between athletic thighs. Samuel wore all his weight on his shoulders and his cock. Heavy thing, long with a bulbous head. His black hair was slicked to his cheeks while he waited. "Get me a towel, mom!" he added. He wanted her to see him. And what he'd grown into.

Samuel didn't really know who he was anymore. But he liked it.

 

[ElizabethRose]

Jen was deep in her own thoughts when she heard her son's voice ring through the house. She was exhausted, as an single mother to a growing son is, and ready for the break that would come when he left the cozy nest they called home. Jen had not had an easy time with Samuel as he was growing up and it was worse because of the lack of a father figure. She did her best, but Samuel rebelled and she wasn't able to control him. Things got better as he used his time and energy on sports, but he soon matured and started to grow more distant from her. You know how boys are once they hit puberty, secretive.

Jen placed her hands on the kitchen table and pushed, raising herself from her seat with a long sigh. She was a writer and was on a time crunch for the release of her most recent book, Exchanges in the Moonlight. Since Tim left, her life had been lacking in the romance department. Because of this, Jen buried herself in her writing. She lived through her characters and their steamy exchanges. Often Jen would find herself indulging in late night sessions with herself, bringing herself to climax thinking of the characters in her book and escaping into their world. This world was the only thing that kept her sane and grounded in her own world.

Jen heard Sam call out for her again. She slowly closed her eyes and breathed in deep, releasing the breath slowly from her lungs. She moved through the house making her way to the stairs. Her foot steps seemed heavier than normal as she climbed, slowly. She stood in front of the bathroom door for a moment, contemplating if she should knock since he was obviously expecting her. She decided against it and turned the knob letting herself into the bathroom. It was hot and steamy, the air heavy with moisture. Her eyes moved to find Sam and she did just that. There he was, standing fully nude, the beads of water running down his flat stomach to large cock. It hung heavily, resting against his thigh. She cleared her throat and he requested that she hand him a towel. Jen moved swiftly to the closet in the corner of the bathroom and brought out a plush blue towel, handing it to him while she tried to look anywhere but at his member.

 

[Verse]

He thought she took her time. That wasn't surprising. She had to do stuff too, and it wasn't like she hovered close to whatever room he was in so that she could serve him. Though, he'd like that. But that meant he had to stand there while he waited. It would have been no trouble at all to take the few steps between him and the closet where the towels were. But that wasn't the plan. He heard her come up because the distracting noise of the water had been turned off, even if the thick fog in here seemed to muffle the sound of her steps. It was exciting, knowing that this time when she saw him, it would be her seeing him as a man. He knew when she was close, and shifted a bit, his cock slapping from one thigh to the other, when she opened the door.

She had come in with a bit of a sour disposition, but that changed quickly. He saw his mother take his body in. They'd never been like this before, not since she was still bathing him as a kid. He made sure she saw everything, and she looked over him on her own accord. His cock could take the scrutiny, as it hung there. This was exciting enough that he had to employ some mental techniques to keep his cock from filling up. She was a woman sharing a tight space with him, after all, while he was entirely nude. His dear mother tried to stay composed, calm, but the mere fact that she was not freaking out told him she was taken aback by this situation. He waited to see what she might do next. And when she did move, it made him grin. She'd been harboring an attitude lately, telling him to do things on his own. But now that he had his hammer of a limb out, she was pretty submissive. Good to know. He liked seeing her quietly move for him, and bring him what her wanted.

He took the towel and started drying his hair, strong arms lifted to pad and ruffle his dark, water-heavy strands with the towel. It presented the muscle-scheme of his torso pretty well, and emphasized his largeness. Formerly her little boy. It also made his cock sway somewhat, in the shaking motions spreading from the activity up top and down his body. "So," he said, pretending it was normal to dry off in front of your mom, and for her to be staring. Maybe she thought he couldn't see her through the steam even if she saw him? Or maybe her female brain was just fried by all of this. He stepped closer and hung the towel around the back of his neck, grabbing on to either hand to let his arms hang off it,

"It's been a while since you pleased me." It was a deliberately strange choice of words. Mom didn't date. She had to be pent up. She was still at an age where she needed cock, and she wasn't getting it. He should have seen it before. "How about you slow your writing for tonight and make me some dinner? I like the meatballs you do." he said and made sure she had another eyeful.