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Who really is to blame for a simple case of feminine curiosity that has blown up into something huge … ooh, is huge the appropriate word to use here? Or am I getting carried away with certain relevant dimensions that created this embarrassing incident before I have had a chance to explain it to you?
My best friend of 20+ years claims I have violated our friendship, she wants to expose me as some kind of female paedophiliac predator and my 19-year-old son is no longer talking to me. Havoc, I created havoc … simply by getting out of bed shortly before dawn to go to my own bathroom to use the toilet, just as I have done every early morning for years.
When I went to bed some 5 or 6 hours before, I was the only person in my house that night, so why would I think to knock or even hesitate before opening the bathroom door? So I didn’t … I threw back the covers, got up out of bed, stumbled out into the hallway, reached out for the bathroom door knob and turned it, pushing it open and stepping inside.
I didn’t turn on the light and it wasn’t already on. Outside, it was a very clear night with a full moon shining in the windows on that side of the house. So, in my dreamy slumberous haze, I opened wide that door and was startled to see a person silhouetted by the illumination of the moon shining in through the far window.
That person was obviously male because they were standing at the front of the toilet bowl, peeing into said bowl. With the advantage of hindsight, if I had thrown open that bathroom door at ten in the morning — in fact, at any daylight hour — and I had seen a male person standing urinating into the toilet bowl, I would have muttered “Sorry!” maybe even added, “Didn’t know anyone was in here,” and withdrawn with great embarrassment.
But waking from a deep sleep to answer nature’s call just before 5am, fully expecting that I was alone in my own house, I believe it was perfectly natural to linger longer, taking more than a cursory glance. First up, I had to quickly establish that a burglar hadn’t broken into my house to rob me and was pausing to take a pee before completing his criminal mission. Or to establish that a rapist was not emptying his bladder preparatory to stealing into my room and having his way with me. Don’t scoff at that, I am hopefully still a somewhat desirable 43-year old divorcee.
So as I made out the silhouetted shape of a male in profile, urine flowing copiously from his silhouetted appendage, I attempted to identify who this might be in my house at this ungodly hour using the facilities before I could withdraw safely back to my bedroom. So my hand naturally stayed holding the door knob and I stood there staring at the obviously male person (well, he was standing to pee), trying to identify him.
But identification is usually accomplished by facial recognition. This person was side-on, in profile. Besides, my eyes hadn’t yet raised my line of vision anywhere near the face. My attention was immediately drawn to the uniquely male piece of genitalia that was producing the steady stream of urine directed into the bowl. On the assumption that since it wasn’t stiffly horizontal and that a penis would usually be flaccid to be able to pee, my spontaneous judgement was that I was laying my eyes on an extraordinary sizeable instrument of manhood.
Considering that the head of the penis I spied was closer to the male’s knee than to his crotch, I assessed in my rapidly diminishing sleepy haze that this instrument was likely 7 inches, flaccid as it was in the act of peeing. Now you may think that this was a strange thing to do at 5 in the morning … calculate a measurement without the aid of a tape or ruler. It’s just that my ex had such an ego that he was always quoting research into the varying sizes of the male genitalia.
According to that obnoxious prick that I found I was better off without, worldwide research was completed some years back where it was determined that the average penis (that is 94.4% of all penises) was 2.8 to 3.9 inches when flaccid and between 4.7 and 6.3 inches when erect. Why he was so obsessed was that – according to him – his was six-and-a-half when hard. That put him slightly higher than Mr. Average and he loved to boast about that.
How did he know that? Because one night when he had actually performed foreplay on me while we were watching TV — back in the days when we actually were what they quaintly call sexually active — we decided to move it to the bedroom to really get into it. When my hubby didn’t follow me straight to bed, I went looking for him and caught him in the bathroom using a tape measure to check the length and circumference of his briefly engorged member in its erect state. He was so proud to boast of his findings that he even told all the guests at the table at our next dinner party.
Then he went on to regale our guests with such trivia that the largest penises in the world belonged to men of the Democratic Republic of Congo where they average 7.1 inches and the smallest in North Korea where they only have 3.8 inches. In his stupid naivety, casino şirketleri I really think he expected the women around our dining table that night to ooh and aah and be jealous of my good fortune while the men would pat him on the back. You have to know your audience and his statistics so bored that particular group of dinner guests that none of that happened.
But given the ground-breaking results I have just related to you, you can see why I was so shocked to visually adjudge that the flaccid tool of the man peeing in my bathroom looked to be around 7 inches, double the figures for average quoted by my ex. ‘What on earth,’ I pondered in these long seconds of discovery while holding the bathroom door open, ‘would it stretch to when erect?’
I know I have stretched relating this over a couple of pages, but really the entire incident lasted not much more than 15 seconds, ticking away like this…
Open the door…
Who the hell is in my bathroom?
2, 3 seconds
Oh God, it’s a male and he’s in the middle of peeing
4, 5 seconds
Who can it be, is he a threat to me?
6, 7, 8 seconds
Good God, look at that thing … more important, is that a threat to me?
9, 10 seconds
My God, how big is that thing? I’ve never seen one like that. Well, maybe on a horse
11, 12 seconds
At last, lift my gaze to check out his face instead … recognition. Oh my God, is that Michael’s best buddy Brandon?
13, 14, 15 seconds
I’ve known him all his life, used to change his nappies when his mom came to visit with him, he never looked like that back then.
Brandon continued his marathon pee, but he turned his head and his words were slurred. He — and obviously my son too — had been out all night drinking. “Hi Mrs. B” – my good friend Heather and I had always insisted our children address adults formally and never use first names – “I’m nearly done here.”
It was obvious that young Brandon in his drunken stupor wasn’t at all embarrassed by my intrusion and probably — no, hopefully — wouldn’t recall that I had stared at his penis for so long when I next saw him.
Gathering my thoughts and attempting to belatedly establish some semblance of respectability, I reluctantly backed away and closed the door, standing outside in the hallway to await Brandon’s emergence from my bathroom. I reached over to the switch and turned on the hallway light. I’m not sure why, perhaps it just seemed creepy to stand waiting outside my bathroom in the dark.
I didn’t have to wait long. The door reopened and the 6-foot 18-year-old appeared, clad only in a tee-shirt … and I do mean only. I know I shouldn’t have because I was the sober adult here, but from sheer curiosity I stole a peep down as we momentarily stood facing each other not two feet apart. I could see that flaccid penis up really close now, it seemed to wave about as he moved and it nearly brushed me.
Although decidedly drunk and very bleary-eyed, he must have become aware of where I was looking and he brought both of his hands forward to attempt to cover his nudity. “Oh shit, I’m sorry Mrs. B, I wasn’t expecting to stay over.”
“That’s ok Brandon, did Michael set you up in the guest room?”
“Yeah he did Mrs. B, I just crashed in there.”
“That’s good, well better get yourself back to bed, you look like you could do with a bit more sleep.”
Very obediently, he turned and staggered down the hallway and my eyes followed his naked butt below the tee-shirt until he disappeared into the guest room. Then I slipped into the bathroom to use the toilet to relieve the need that had woken me from my deep sleep at such an appropriate — or was that inappropriate — time?
Normally, if I am compelled to get up to use the toilet in the middle of the night, I leave the lights off where possible so that I don’t wake myself up to such an extent that I can’t get back to sleep. Well, discovering an unexpected male visitor and then my stunned surprise at how he had developed in one specific and important area, put paid to resuming my deep sleep.
I lay there fitfully for a couple more hours, trying to dismiss — at least for now — the vivid memory of what I had glimpsed in my bathroom. How did a young man of 18 possess a penis that could grow to such a size? Why him of all people? Was it hereditary, was his father well-endowed too, I had known his dad Jim nearly as long as I had known Heather, she had never said anything about Jim being inordinately large. With the overtly sexual things she and I had discussed over the years, I am sure if he was, she would have brought it up — so to speak.
About seven, I gave up on trying to sleep and went out to the kitchen. I made myself a coffee and sat down to read the paper and contemplate whether I should make up a batch of pancakes for the boys.
I was on my own, so to speak, these days. My creep of a husband had run off with a blonde bimbo from his office two years ago. From early in our marriage, I had quickly realised that I would have trouble with him. He was always flirting with casino firmaları anything in a skirt and there were no boundaries. He even hit on some of my friends. So when he eventually pulled the plug, it was no surprise, and although I was pretty cut up at the time, I eventually came to see that he was no loss in my life.
The best thing from our marriage was our two lovely kids. My 19-year-old Michael supposedly still lived at home although I never knew whether he’d be sleeping here each night or not. He and his buddies tended to party a fair bit so if they weren’t sleeping over at someone else’s place, there was always the possibility that he had got lucky with some girl at one of the club’s that night and crashed at her place.
My daughter, Alison is 22, she moved out just before her father did, although that was purely coincidental. She’s a good girl and was very concerned for my welfare when the creep departed, even offered to move back in to keep me company. It was a nice gesture but I reassured her that I would be fine and told her that she had her own life to live now.
I was still sitting at the kitchen table about 8.30 when Michael appeared. He looked a bit worse for wear, “Looks like you really tied one on — you and Brandon — last night?”
“Umm, yeah it was a bit of a solid drinking session. So, you’ve seen Brandon have you, is he up yet? I meant to leave you a note to tell you he was staying over, didn’t want you to get a shock if you bumped into him here.”
“Err yes, you could say I’ve seen Brandon … and no, he’s not up yet, although he might as well be,” I told my son cryptically.
“What does all that mean mom?”
“Oh nothing, I better not go there.”
“Come on mom, now you’ve got me curious, what on earth are you talking about?”
“Well, I don’t know if he’ll remember much, he seemed pretty wasted when I caught up with him in the early hours. I … err, I kind of walked in on him in the bathroom a few hours ago.”
“Oh mom, you didn’t!”
“Yes Michael, I’m afraid I did.”
“Didn’t you know he was there?”
“No, there were no lights on and the door was closed but, as you know, I always leave the bathroom door closed to prevent any smells from the toilet wafting through the house.”
“Oh shit mom, what was he doing? I hope he wasn’t jerking off, was he? Neither of us scored last night.”
“Oh God no! Oh goodness me, that would have been something.”
“Believe me mom, you don’t want to see it.”
“Err no, well Michael, that’s just it … I did see it.”
“What, you just said he wasn’t jerking off.”
“No he wasn’t, but I did see it Michael … I opened the door and he was taking a pee and I saw that incredible penis of his. Good God, it’s a biggie.”
My son brought both hands up and mockingly covered his ears, “Hmm! Hmm! Too much information, I don’t want to hear this mom. Mothers don’t talk to their sons about seeing his buddies’ dicks, and especially nothing relating to size.”
I waited until he removed his hands from over his ears. “Michael, I guess that I’ve led a sheltered life, never cheated around like your father did, so it’s been a damn long time since I’ve seen any penis other than your dad’s. I haven’t even seen yours since you reached puberty.”
“Oh mom, that’s enough! Anyway, you don’t want to see mine, it’s nothing out of the ordinary, nothing like Brandon’s.”
“I want to know about Brandon honey, it’s so huge. How does he deal with that, how do girls deal with that, does it scare them off? I imagine it might! When did it start to grow so big?”
“Mom, that’s enough, I don’t want to discuss my buddy’s dick with you … my own mother.”
“I’m just curious Michael, I don’t know a lot about such things. You see, your father had this obsession with penis size, he used to measure his and there was this embarrassing dinner party we had where he boasted to all the guests that his was bigger than average. Then he proceeded to quote average sizes and which country had the biggest men. Oh God, what a creep he was!”
“Mom, don’t forget he’s still my dad. I thought you two agreed not to bad mouth each other in front of Alison and me.”
“Yeah, yeah! We did say that. It’s just that sometimes, I remember all the crap I took from him and it pisses me off. So where was I? Oh, that’s right, we were talking about Brandon’s incredible penis.”
“No we weren’t mom, you were talking about it, I refuse to discuss it with you.”
“Very well then, I’ll just have to wait until he wakes up and ask him all my questions. Better to get all this straight from the horse’s mouth, as the saying goes. Although, maybe I shouldn’t be referring to horses in the same sentence as talking about Brandon.”
“Oh mom, give it up!” Michael got up from the table and began to head out of the kitchen, “and don’t even think about talking to my buddy about his dick.”
I called after him, “Honey, I was going to make pancakes for you boys.”
“Don’t bother, mom!” he called back over his shoulder.
I finished reading the paper, made some pancakes anyway and had one güvenilir casino myself. I went through the house to Michael’s bedroom, tapped on the door that was slightly ajar, “I’m sorry Michael, I don’t like us to argue. I’ve made the pancakes if you want to go get some while they’re hot.”
I left his room and went purposefully down the hallway to Alison’s old room that we now refer to as the guest room. I quietly opened the door without knocking and walked over to the bed. The blind was drawn but there was some daylight leaking into the room. Brandon was lying there on his back, his mouth open, snoring peacefully. He still wore the tee-shirt and the top sheet was thrown back. I gazed down on that wondrous penis, lying dormant along his thigh. Indeed, I was able to confirm my earlier observation that the tip of it was much closer to his knee than to his crotch.
It fascinated me, I had never seen one this size and my immediate thought was to contemplate to what size it would grow when aroused. I remember my ex Matt telling me the statistic that only 3 per cent of penises were over 8 inches when fully erect. This one looked to be about 7 inches when soft, so how big could that get? I had not had sex for over two years, since before my husband walked out … I truly did miss it and at a moment like this I realised just how much. As I gazed upon it, I wished that I had the gumption to reach down and touch it, even to arouse it just to see how big it would grow.
I turned my head to look back at the door that I had left ajar. I would hate for my son to catch me in here checking out his best buddy. I turned my attention back to the soundly sleeping 18-year-old. ‘He’ll never know,’ I thought as I reached my left hand down and ran my fingers lightly along the shaft from near his balls toward the tip. When my fingers reached the knob of the head of his penis, I brought them softly around to stroke the sensitive underside. His whole cock jerked in reaction and I pulled my hand away for fear I might have woken him. His snoring paused and I watched anxiously to see if his eyes opened. Fortunately, they didn’t and after a moment or two, his snoring resumed.
I realised that I should get out of this room before I really did something stupid and got caught. But I was so fascinated by this extraordinary tool that I had to have one more touch. I retraced my fingers softly along the same path again. This time when I slid them around to the underside, I knew what to expect and when his penis jerked once more in reaction to my fondling caress, I didn’t retract. I just left my fingers there and continued to softly stroke the underside of his cock-head and it jerked a couple of times more. I watched it hardening … just a bit, thickening slightly and a clear drop of pre-cum appeared in the eye of his penis. I used one finger to scoop it off and brought that finger to my lips, moistening them with his juice.
My heart was beating frantically, the adrenalin pumping from the fear of getting caught holding this boy’s … no, this young man’s penis. Reluctantly, I took one last long look at his penis then gently returned the shaft to resting along his thigh, turned and made my way to the door. I paused there for a moment, listening for Michael’s footsteps outside. Satisfied that I couldn’t hear anything, I opened the door wide and stepped back into the hallway. I was just heading back toward the kitchen when Michael appeared from out of the bathroom. He looked at me curiously and I tried not to look guilty.
“Where have you been mom?”
“Err, I was back in the sun room,” I lied.
“No you weren’t, I looked for you there. You were in the guest room, weren’t you mom? My God, what is it with you? What were you doing in there, you didn’t do anything with Brandon, did you?”
“What do you mean do anything Michael?”
“I don’t know mom, but you’re acting really strange this morning. Were you in there, I’ll bet you were?”
“I just went in to check on him, see if he’s ok. He seemed pretty drunk when I bumped into him this morning.”
“Stay right there mom.” Michael turned and went to the guest room door. He pushed it open and disappeared inside. A moment later, he was back in the hallway. “What were you doing in there mom? Shit, you weren’t checking him out, were you? Mom, the guy’s 18, you’re … what, 43 mom, is that right? Old enough to be his mother. Oh, that’s right, you can’t be his mother because his mother is actually your best friend, think about that. Imagine what she’d say if she knew you were stealing peeps at his dick. Shit, pull yourself together and act your age mom.”
He turned on his heels after having lectured his mother about morals and disappeared toward the kitchen. I went to my room and had a lie down but all I could think of was the size of young Brandon’s penis and the powerful feel of it when my fingers touched it. I began to reflect on how sexually starved I was. I had had nothing in all the time since Matt walked out. I really shouldn’t have let this situation develop. I should have made some attempt to encourage some male company long before this. I managed to convince myself that my interest in Brandon was simply curiosity, that I would still be fascinated to see a penis this big and impressive even if I had enjoyed some male company in the two years since my husband left.
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