Mom in the shower naked

2020.10.29 06:21 unpackedresidents Mom in the shower naked

I (21F) live with my boyfriend(21M) and his mom, as the city I go to university in has very expensive housing costs and they invited me to stay with them a year ago for a much cheaper monthly cost (I pay $300 when an average one bedroom rents for 1500+). I can't stand it anymore and my boyfriend avoids any conversation surrounding this and I'm forced to overthink the dynamic between all of us. He's definitely a mama's boy and she treats him as her surrogate spouse (she has been divorced since he was 3 and it has been the two of them together ever since).
First of all, we have little privacy on a day to day. I can't even wake up or eat something without her observation or commentary on it. He also tells her everything and she pries on his life, which is their business, but he also devolves all the details of my life to her as well. Ie what birth control I'm on, he implicates that I smoked to her, and overall my day to day schedule (where I go, what I do, who I'm with etc.) These are basic things that I don't even talk about with my own mothefather, and I continuously tell him that it makes me uncomfortable but he never addresses my concerns.
Their relationship with each other also makes me very uncomfortable. To him, it's completely innocent which only fuels the creeped out feeling I get. I feel very paranoid and like I'm going crazy sometimes because I'm so uncomfortable. I noticed he is comfortable completely naked in front of her, and even sometimes walks around her completely naked or accidentally flashes her (if there's no towels and he's out of the shower, he won't even bother to cover up before he walks in front of her.) They make sexual jokes about each other, she even once made a joke about him being "well endowed" since his father was. We have our own bathroom, but for a 6 month period he would only shower in her bathroom, sometimes showering after one another. He would also wear her robe after he got out and she once accused him of stealing her underwear because she couldn't find it (I never found out if he did steal her underwear.) He jokes about her watching porn, and they compliment each other constantly. He's signed to a modelling agency, and always shows off his shirtless body to her, asking for validation and she always touches him, telling him how handsome and fit he is. He calls her nicknames that he also uses for me and she seeks a lot of emotional validation from him, when they're fighting, she acts like a jealous girlfriend, storming off, making a scene etc. Every time he has an important decision to make or good news to share, he will go to her before me - every time. I can't continue competing with his mom - its not a competition I want to be in nor one I can win.
Even more recently and disturbing is that this has made it's way into our sex life. We have always been into fetish play and more taboo sexual experimentation, but he now calls me "mommy" during sex. He's always liked to be dominated (we switch roles though) and at first it was disturbing but now I find myself giving into it because I feel like it's the one time I have "power" or I feel like I can pleasure him as his mommy... It is purely role-play but it must stem from something psychological...
She's a very type A personality and even if she doesn't intend so, I constantly feel her scrutiny and judgement in my life. I'm not a very outspoken person and especially in her home and her space I don't feel included in many conversations. She's a very nice lady but she's not MY mom so I don't need her suggestions regarding my lifestyle (food, sleep, schedule, etc). I find it hard to stand up to her because of her aggressive personality and overall it has caused me to be less close with her. When I had first moved in, I made my best effort to have a strong relationship with her (we went on walks almost every day, did yoga together, cooked together, I cooked for all of us almost every day, getting groceries for each other, etc) and these days I mostly avoid conversation with her because I feel so uncomfortable. I try not to impose in her space as it is her home, I keep all the share spaces clean and help out when I can. She still tries to involve herself in our lives, constantly inviting us to do things with her (which he will happily oblige), prying into what we do and making these plans for all three of us. We are just very different people but of course I'm still very cordial and polite to her and would never bring this up to her. I know that this is how their household has operated for the past 21 years before I was even in the picture so it's not my position to change it or comment on it but I can no longer live with it anymore.
I also spend money on my own groceries which she has eaten several times (meat and produce) yet once I borrowed her rice and she asked me to replace it. I also have to spend money on my boyfriend which he doesn't repay me for, and I have to clean up after him constantly because she has done it for him his whole life. She also suggests to me that it is now my responsibility to teach him how to clean, cook and take care of himself. Her birthday is coming up and he suggest we cook her a meal while he acts as a server for her, yet on my birthday he wasn't even around nor would he ever do something like that for me. Living with them has shown me their true colours, and I feel guilt because obviously I'm not in a position to judge their family as he's never judged my dysfunctional family but I just love my boyfriend to death and feel so conflicted over this. When I bring this up he never addresses it and I don't even know how to say this without it being hurtful. I could spend endless time together with my boyfriend but I can't live like this any longer. I spend my days constantly psychoanalyzing their relationship and dynamic instead of focusing on my self esteem, personal boundaries and my priorities.
I know there are much worse mother in law situations but this has actually driven me insane. I hate these building feelings and wish there was a way for me to be with my boyfriend but it will not be living with him and his mom. I'm sick of feeling jealous of her, and he just invalidates my feelings instead of asking why I feel this way. Sometimes I don't even feel like his girlfriend as I bend over backwards for him and he just uses me for sex while he has an emotional relationship with his mom. It's upsetting to me because I am deeply in love with him and I feel like he is my soulmate. I just wish we could both grow independently from our parents but due to circumstance it will be a while before we're able to move out. And no I will no longer be staying with them, I'm moving back in with my own family.
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2020.10.28 10:04 3y3d3a Mom in the shower naked

Today is day one. I have an ungodly amount of anxiety and panic attacks. My heart just won’t stop racing. It feels like I’m going to have a stroke at times. This is scaring the absolute shit out of me. I haven’t told my girlfriend(my drinking partner) that I’m going to try to quit again. A few months ago in an effort to stop fighting so much due to alcohol. We made it a week and it was fantastic. I felt so good at the end of the week. Recently my girlfriends mom passed away suddenly, today she just had to put her childhood cat down.. I can’t even begin to describe or let alone understand her pain. She has been moderating with alcohol very well lately. Keeping it to just a couple drinks. I don’t really know what to do at this point. All I want is to be there for her in anyway I can. But how the fuck can I do that if I’m an anxious ball of asshole? What’s really helping me make this decision is my health. I recently notice my left eye has a floater in it and that my vision is starting to go bad in my left eye. My panic attacks are much more frequent lately and have been controlling my life. The alcohol was the only thing that made it just melt away.
I’ve had PLENTY of attempts at quitting. I’ve been in AA, NA, CA and spent a year in a cognitive therapy community (court ordered rehab) it actually was kind of incredible and the amount of information about addiction I have is quite huge. Hell, when I got out of rehab, I literally wanted to go to school to start becoming LCDC. I wanted to help people just like I was helped. I miss being sober ME so fucking bad.
Today my arm got super tight, my chest was pounding, I was feeling like I was going to pass out. I freaked.. I was POSITIVE that I was about to die naked in my shower. The idea of my mom having to come down and find me in the shower... It was the single most terrifying thing I’ve been through, and I’m not flexing but I have been through a quite of bit. I NEVER want to feel this way again.
If anyone has suggestions on what action I should take with my girlfriend still drinking and me quitting. I know she will 1000% back me up, and she has had a lot of experience in the sobriety field very much similar to mine. If we got sober together we’d be a fucking force of nature. And I want that so badly. However I completely understand that she’s purposely drinking less since her moms passing because she knows where it would lead. I support her for the amount that she drinks but I also know enough that it’s very risky or hard for one person to get clean while their partner doesn’t.
TL;DR: Thought I was going to die in shower. Fuck this shit I’m done.
IWNDWYT
Also sorry about my grammar. I’m kind of an idiot.
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2020.10.27 05:17 CYKAblyaddd Mom in naked the shower

I’ve 22m been sleeping with my girlfriend (F19) mom. After my gf and her got breast implants together I just got instantly more attracted to her mom. One day after she caught me walking out of the shower she saw me naked. I knew where this was going. She was checking me out and just didn’t leave. I grabbed her and just started making out and she started undressing herself in the shower with me. She then went on her knees and gave me the best blowjob of my life, and even swallowed right after. I just couldn’t go back to my gf who wasn’t giving me that kind of sex. From that point it’s been constant. We’ve been having sex 3 times a week and we’ve been keeping it a secret. She is 39 and I’m 22 so the age difference is prominent. I just can’t stop sleeping with her. I am feeling an attraction that I haven’t had before. I am feeling an immense amount of guilt but I haven’t had this type of attraction before.
We’ve been together for three years and this has been continuing for the last month. I’m really stressed out, and I’m feeling horrible as I’m writing this. I don’t know what to do. I feel anxious everyday about what she’s going to do when I tell her. She’ll feel broken. What should I do...?
submitted by CYKAblyaddd to relationship_advice [link] [comments]


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2020.10.26 13:17 bigdumbhick Mom in the shower naked

I just played my first gig at a Nudist Resort
I never realized that there was a difference between Nudist and Social Nudist, but I found out that there actually was a big difference
Nudist: a person who engages in the practice of going naked wherever possible.
Social Nudist: one who engages in a lifestyle of non-sexual nudity, and the cultural movement which advocates and defends that lifestyle.
people who believe that it is physically, socially, emotionally, and perhaps spiritually healthy to go about fully nude individually and in groups of mixed gender, wherever the weather permits and others are not offended
-------------------------------------------------------
I was booked to play a gig Saturday at Carolina Foothills Resort in Chesnee SC. CFR is a campground for nudists. I had been looking for venues where I could play outside and somehow or another Google led me to a review of a nudist resort somewhere.
I pondered on it for a minute an thought -

  1. I'll bet those people are pretty open minded
  2. I'll bet there aren't a lot of other musicians competing for the gig
  3. I like being naked
I sent out queries to the three resorts within 150 miles, with a link to my EPK, and promptly moved on. As a performing musician you send out LOTS of queries with little to no response. You set a price hoping that people will be willing to pay it, but this is the time of COVID and that's seldom happening now, so you have to decide what the lowest price is you are willing to accept. How far away is the gig? Have I played it before? Is it a good crowd? Are they good tippers? Can I afford to take $25, $50, or even $100 less to get my foot in the door?
I quickly got an email back from CFR inviting me to come play, they had no problem paying my full cover price. They even offered to put me up for the night. When someone offers to pay your full asking price, you jump on it. I jumped on it.
When we pulled into the campground, it just looked like a normal campground. Campers everywhere, kids playing, people on golf carts...then we passed by a naked guy washing his car. My wife looked at me with big eyes,said "That guy was naked!" and started to giggle.
We checked in at the office, and the lady who checked us in was fully dressed. We signed some paper that basically said we would behave, and were given a key to a cabin. We drove over and took our stuff in. I asked my wife if she was coming to the pool for my gig. She just laughed, gave me a kiss, and told me to go have fun. On the way out the door I stopped, looked at my wife and said screw it, and I got undressed.
"When in Rome"....
I had been naked in front of other people before. In Jr High and High School we had to shower in a big open shower room with classmates, I had been to Navy boot camp where I took a shower in similar situation with 80 guys, living on board a ship and sharing a berthing compartment with 40 or more guys, and I had been to nude beaches several times. But all of that was 20 or more yrs and almost 100lbs ago, and in all those situations there was no real social interaction. Guys don't normally even acknowledge that other naked guys even exist.
I pull around to the pool get my gear out of my car and am confronted with a 70+ year old naked man...and he wants to say hello and welcome. As I make several trips between the car more naked 70+ year old men come up introduce themselves. Is everybody here old and naked? and how come all these old men have bigger dicks than me? Is this the home of the 70+ year old big dick mafia? Were they about to make me an offer that I shouldn't refuse?
I'm not going to lie. I was not in my comfort zone. A fellow came up with a camera and told me that he was the official camp photographer and wanted to know if it was okay if he took some shots of my performance for the clubs private use. When we checked in we were given stickers to put over the camera lens of our phones so I wasn't concerned about evidence getting back to my mother. I told him the club was paying me so they could do whatever they wanted. Sorry Mom.
I was contracted to play from 3-6p. I got set up and started playing at 2:45. I'm doing my normal shit talking between songs "If I would have been thinking, I would have worn my good dick", and "I should have thought this out better. I sat a tip jar out, forgetting that none of you naked people have any way to carry cash on you" somebody yelled out "you'd be surprised" to which I replied "Please don't drop a roll of quarters in my tip bucket"
Audience response was good. I got laughter at the right places, people coming up to say hi and thank me for playing, people were dancing. I'd say the average age was mid 50s and up. There was every body shape and size you could possibly imagine. Stretch mark's, flabby bellies and titties, saggy asses, old faded tattoos and when they start dancing all that starts moving around...
But after 10-20 minutes something in your brain changes. You stop noticing all of that and you just see people enjoying themselves. At one point this young 25 year old woman with a perfect body, meaning not a blemish, not a scar, not a stretch mark, with great perfect muscle tone walked up and threw me a tip. Her nudity didn't even register, at least not in any sexual way. I noticed how nice her skin was. I was jealous of her youth, I noticed her smile and how warm and friendly she came across. Any sexuality related to nudity was simply non-existent.
at some point later I was talking to one gentleman and remarked how incredible it was to see how accepting everyone was and how comfortable everyone was in their skin. He told me "That's because we're all perfect just the way we are"
He is right.
After I was done with my gig (I played 2:45-6:15 with no breaks) I went back to the cabin where my wife was resting. I told her that there was a bonfire going on that we should visit. I put my shorts back on (I wanted the pockets for cigars, lighter, cutter, etc) and we went over to the bonfire. The young 25yo lady was there with her 35 year old, 5% body fat partner. Turns out he was a University Professor, and she was an environmental scientist. They were with another young couple with perfect 20 year old bodies. What I'd give to have that back, There was another couple there in their mid 50s, who I had met by the pool. They were both ex-Air Force with normal mid 50s bodies. The younger females had put on a little clothing because of the cooler night temperature and their lack of body fat. Being old and fat has it's advantages.
Being nude was no different that not being nude. Nobody acknowledged one or the other, except to compliment one of the younger girls on a pair of boots she was wearing. If you want to be naked, be naked. If you don't want to be naked, don't be naked. It was no different than wearing a ball cap or a watch. Another couple came and joined us. She was the lady who had checked us in. I had later seen her named by the pool and from the front she looked like a typical mid 60's woman would be expected to look. From behind I noticed that she had a cute bubble butt. Genes are weird.
I noticed that I had quit seeing people in the usual sexual ways. I might look at someone and think "nice genetics", "cute ass", or "wow, look at his/her skin" it was all clinical type observations, not sexual ones. Did I want to have sex with the 25 year old female? No, Not really. I wanted to have the youth and the body of that age. I wanted to be back in my mid 20's where women who looked like that wanted to have sex with me and I wanted to have sex with them, and it was all new and exciting, the exploration of each others bodies etc. Did I want to have sex with her that night, as a 59 year old fat man? Not in the least little bit.
She was nice to me. She had offered me a plate of food earlier, she had brought me my cigar cutter after I had left it by the pool, but I wouldn't be able to pick her out of a lineup today. They thing that left the strongest impression was her kindness
After sitting by the bonfire and discussing everything from dating camels in Iraq (Air Force vets) to discovering leeches attached to your genitalia (one of the young ladies) we decided to visit the hot tub.
The pool is heated at something like 84 degrees year round. The pool and the hot tub are open 24 hrs a day, 7 days a week. The only place you are required to be naked at CFR is in the water at the pool or hottub.
My wife is very modest and had earlier told me that she was not getting naked, no how, no way, simply ain't happening. She would cut the first motherfucker that tried to make her get naked. She had a kid at 35 which wasn't very friendly to her body (although I think shes still awful hot). We went to the hot tub and she got got naked and got in. A little later she got in the pool as well. A couple of people walked by and she tensed up, but she held her ground and walked thru her anxiety. I was proud of her.
Sunday Morning we awoke to rain. We decided to go hit the hot tub before leaving and once again she got nude. This time several people came by. The President of the CFR Board of Directors, thanked me for playing. I found out that I am the first performer they ever had who performed naked. The older lady in the office with the cute bubble butt who had checked us in came by. She is a year round resident. She has a camper she keeps there. We started asking questions about how many members, costs, fees, etc. She told us that with everything shes able to live there year round for $3-4k a year.
The entire weekend (Sat noon - Sunday noon) the people could not have possibly been any more friendly and welcoming. They would make it a point to say hello, ask if you needed anything, offer to feed you. It was the most welcoming, inviting, accepting group of people I remember ever encountering in the last decade or two.
When we left I was a bit down. I wasn't looking forward to having to return to the real world, the one that makes you wear pants.
Visiting CFR is a life changing experience. I don't know about any other resort, but when this one says it is family oriented, what they really mean is they treat each other, and the guests, like family. They are interested in you. They want to get to know you. The nudity is just an added benefit, the real draw here is the camaraderie, the sense of community. I guess the nudity helps to facilitate that but they treat the sense of community as the utmost, primary principle here.
We'll be back. In fact I could see this as an affordable retirement option.
Thanks CFR staff, members and guests. It was an honor to be allowed to share my music with such wonderful people.
submitted by bigdumbhick to nudism [link] [comments]


2020.10.26 03:38 g0thboyclique Mom in the shower naked

when i was 4, my mom brought me to her friend’s house because she was cutting her hair for some extra money, and since i was so young obviously she couldn’t leave me home alone. the friend had a son that was 17 and we were in their family room watching tv while my mom and her friend were in the kitchen. since i was so young i can’t really remember the details but i have a very distinct memory of him pinning me onto the floor and pulling my pants off even when i tried to crawl away. when i finally got away to tell his mom all she said was “boys will be boys”. i know since nothing REALLY happened i should be grateful and am probably overreacting, but if it was so insignificant i don’t think it would’ve affected me the way it did. my boyfriend thinks i have ptsd from this because i get random flashbacks to it, sometimes have to stop during sexual things because i get uncomfortable (not because of my boyfriend- i feel completely safe with him and he respects my boundaries, but i get a weird feeling and start to disassociate seemingly for no reason) and i’ve gotten this feeling ever since i was little that i always called the “ketchup and mustard feeling” (younger me didn’t know how to describe the mixture of disgust, shame, etc of the feeling with a name any better than mixed condiments ig) where i feel extremely disgusted with myself for doing anything even innately sexual (even being naked after a shower not doing anything bad triggers it sometimes and has since i was little). it’s a huge feeling of shame where i feel like i have to cover up and hide/shut down and i’m pretty sure this memory is the cause of it. does anyone know if this would be considered ptsd? i don’t want to self diagnose obviously and don’t want a diagnosis from reddit but i’d appreciate someone else’s opinion at least about whether or not i’m overreacting. thank you if you read this.
submitted by g0thboyclique to sexualassault [link] [comments]


2020.10.26 03:27 bunnybunches234 Shower naked in the mom

A lot of small things happened but I'm just going to tell a couple of the ones that have really stuck with me.
I lived in my childhood home from ages 6-16. The first time I noticed anything was when I was 7, I was hanging out in my room and felt extremely uncomfortable very suddenly. I wasn't exactly scared at this point but I was very confused why I felt this way, then my doll tipped over. I had a doll on top of a very tall book shelf that I couldn't even get to. Immediately after my doll tipped I felt like bugs were crawling under my skin and I ran crying to my parents. Went back up and the doll was sitting upright but facing the wall. Parents had no clue what to say to me. Still gives me goosebumps.
When I was 9 I was eating dinner with just my mom. We were sitting on the couch instead of the table because it was just us, both of us heard one of the chairs scoot out. Mom and I both looked back. I had been having lots of small stuff happen to me by this point and my only way to cope was to ignore, so I just ignored it but I could tell my mom was really scared the rest of the night. She had me sleep with her.
One of everyones worst nightmare, getting spooked in the shower! When I was 14 I got that very uncomfortable feeling again while showering, of course my eyes were closed. I couldn't open them because of how scared I was, I started screaming for my mom when I felt a finger swipe down my back. I swear I felt my soul jump out of my body. Never been so terrified in my life. I got out of the shower so fast I took the curtain down with me, went running to my mom completely naked and sobbing. I slept with my parents for months after that, and even when I slept alone I had my lights on.
The last straw was when I was 16, we were all eating dinner downstairs when we heard my dads voice calling my name from upstairs. My dad was sitting right next to me. We ended up going to a hotel that night and I never went back to the house after that. My name is pretty hard to say and that ghost or whatever it was said it right and sounded exactly like my father. Thinking about that night makes my stomach churn.
Never did any research because I'm too scared to know what it could have been. Nothing has happened since we left the house and I'm 21 now. Pretty much okay except I still need a night light. I can't sleep in the dark unless I'm with someone and even then I get really panicked sometimes.
submitted by bunnybunches234 to Paranormal [link] [comments]


2020.10.25 23:55 j2202412 Mom in the shower naked

Jason wakes up hard and squeezes his balls lightly. The pain was normal so he smacked them as hard as he could.
J "Ohh. Awesome."
Jason starts to masturbate and his penis burns. He pushes through the pain and keeps smacking his own balls hard. As he is about to cum, Cindy walks in.
C "Oh, hey. Is this your way of telling me your penis healed?"
Jason cums all over his hand, chest, and face.
J "Hey, it hasn't healed, I just couldn't resist the urge anymore. Sorry you had to see your 19 year old son ejaculate."
C "It's ok, I've seen you do it before. After all, I taught you about it when you were 13 and back then you walked around almost or completely naked. Then you went through puberty and I didn't see you mature. I will never understand why you stopped wearing shorts and never pushed your sleeves up. You were all excited to show off your first pubic hair then you changed."
She grabs some Kleenex and wipes his face and chest off.
J "I didn't want to make you uncomfortable watching me mature into looking like dad. I knew you wouldn't mind but I didn't want you to get upset by seeing me look more like him than you had to."
C "We've been over this. You know it's ok."
J "Yeah, do you think Tiffany would give me my other 50%?"
C "I'll invite her over and you can ask her."
Cindy invites Tiffany over and they all talk for a while. Jason is still in his underwear when she gets there and Tiffany doesn't mind.
J "Hey, will you kick me again? I'll take my other 50% if you want."
T "Sure, take your underwear off so I can see my target."
C "I'll go get an ice pack, don't kick until I get back."
Jason takes them off and spreads his legs. Tiffany starts aiming so her leg hits not her foot.
T "Before I kick you and you feel unimaginable pain for the rest of the day, thanks for letting me kick you."
J "Your welcome, you won't tell anyone will you?"
T "No, this is a secret and always will be."
Cindy returns with the ice and kisses Jason's cheek for good luck. Tiffany swings her leg into Jason's groin. Jason is completely lifted off the ground and only being held up by Tiffany's leg for a second before he collapses.
J "Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh! Owwwwwwwwwwwwwwww! I can't feel my testicles. I lost them."
C "Tiffany, hold his arms back I need to find his testicles."
Tiffany immediately pulls Jason's arms away and Cindy starts feeling for them.
C "I found them, they've ascended but are still in your scrotum and they feel intact. I'm going to try and pull them back down Jason."
J "Ok, before you pull, I'm going to throw up."
Cindy gets up and gets Jason something to throw up into, Tiffany lets his arms go so he can hold himself.
T "I'm so sorry Jason."
J "It's alright, I'm hard. I'm enjoying this and even though it hurts so much."
T "Well, after your mom pulls them back down, I'll empty them for you."
J "Ok."
Cindy returns and Jason throws up.
J "Pull them down while I…….I……." Jason blacks out.
Cindy pulls his balls back down while Jason is unconscious. She hold ice on them until he wakes up 30 minutes later.
J "M-m-mom?"
C "I'm right here, how do they feel?"
J "They hurt so much. How long was I out?"
C "Tiffany, go get some Advil for him please. You were out for 30 minutes, the longest amount ever."
Tiffany returns with Advil and Jason takes it.
J "30 minutes? Wow. Can I have my reward please?"
T "You'll need to get hard again first. I can help with that." She takes off everything so she is completely naked with Jason. He gets hard in seconds.
C "I'll leave you two to it. Enjoy son."
T "Are you ready?"
J "Yes ma'am."
Tiffany opens her mouth and starts to give Jason a blowjob. He's still in incredible pain but the pleasure is stronger than the pain.
J "Oh yeah, that feels amazing." He starts moaning with pleasure.
Cindy walks back in and sees Jason's penis completely in Tiffany's mouth.
C "You are one lucky 19 year old."
J "Yeah. It feels…..gr…...great." Jason cums in Tiffany's mouth.
T "Nice, you want more."
J "Sure if you're comfortable with it."
Jason gets another BJ and then Tiffany has one more offer.
T "Handjob or sex?"
Jason looks up at Cindy.
C "It's your call."
T "I can't get pregnant again, there is virtually no risk."
J "Sex please."
C "I'll leave you two alone for this, I don't need to see my 19 year old have sex."
Jason lays on his back and Tiffany does all the work, smacking his sore balls periodically.
About 20 minutes and two satisfied people later, Tiffany gets dressed and leaves. Cindy walks into the living room and sees Jason holding himself smiling.
C "How was it?"
J "Incredible."
C "Good, how are your testicles now that they're empty?"
J "They hurt so bad, but two BJs and sex made up for all the pain. That was my first time and it was awesome."
C "I'll give them a massage later, I'm glad you enjoyed your first time."
Cindy helps Jason up and to the shower, he goes to bed naked that night and gets his massage. Cindy kisses his cheek, and let's him get some much needed rest after his exciting day.
submitted by j2202412 to bbextra [link] [comments]


2020.10.25 15:26 kalenryan13 Mom in the shower naked

Most people easily remember their last conversation with a loved one before their death, just because it’s the last they saw of them. But I don’t remember my final conversation with my cousin, Matt, solely because it was the last time I saw him.
It was a rainy day. The air was foggy, a thick curtain of mist drowning the city.
“Coffee’s real cold.” he remarked, taking a sip from it.
A few droplets poured onto the glass. We were seated inside a booth in a small coffee shop on the corner of a bustling city street.
“We shouldn’t have come here. Always crappy service.” I responded.
A mob of people held umbrellas and shielded themselves from the onslaught of water that burst from the sky. The clouds, which had been swollen and puffy during the last few days, had finally decided to let loose and rain hell upon the world. I took a sip from my glass of coffee, and spat it back out, feeling cold droplets leak down my throat. I coughed.
“It’s terrible.” I stated.
“It was your idea to come here.”
“Yeah, last time I came, it was still better than this.”
“Hey, so, I know what you wanted to talk about, Carson.” Matt said to me.
I pursed my lips and nodded my head.
“You want me to talk about it?”
“I want you to listen, first. Jackson’s an ass. Try not to let him get to you too much.”
I frowned and looked outside again, watching the people go by, staring at their faces. Sore eyes, cheeks slick with tears, and solemn expressions. Leaning my head against the window and watching the crowd, I murmured to Matt.
“He did everything for me and then drifted away, before he fucked my girlfriend. People change, I guess. Cold-hearted piece of-”
One of the faces outside caught my eye. It was a man with dark hair and pronounced features. He flashed his pearly teeth, forming an ear-to-ear grin. Soulless, empty eyes, that seemed to smile just as wide, though with looming purposelessness. He wore a sleek, yellow raincoat, slick with rainfall. The hood was pulled over his head. His smile grew wider, and he stared at Matt. I shot Matt a glance, and he narrowed his eyes. The man began to walk across the street, coming closer to the coffee shop. He had a strange glow about him, as though the fog didn’t affect him and he could be seen clearly through it. He didn’t check both ways when he crossed the street. A car, rolling down the road, honked when they almost crashed into him. He continued to walk.
“Who the hell is that? Matt? Matt, do you know him?” I asked.
Matt only stared out the window, his jaw gaping. The man approached. He stood in place and he smiled. His eyes did not wander back and forth, trained solely on Matt. My cousin stared back, his former squint turning into a prolonged gaze. He produced a weak, seemingly plastic smile in response. The man’s teeth gleamed as the headlights of a passing car reflected off of it. He carefully turned around and walked away. The smile disappeared in an instant, and replaced itself with the look of a soldier standing at attention. Matt and I trained our sights on the man as he walked away, off into the distance, out of our view. The mist consumed him. He was gone.
“Yeah. People change.” Matt said after a long moment of silence, then stared at me.
“We can talk about this in the car.” I replied.
We drove along the city streets. I explained it all to him. One of those typical, ‘they ripped my heart out’ conversations that lasts for hours and results in the realization that you don’t need them anymore, them being my best friend and my girlfriend. I went home and tossed and turned for a while. My mind was still just as cloudy as the world was outside. I cleared the fog by watching reruns on TV. I closed my eyes halfway through an episode. Rest came eventually. I had work the next day and went to that without a problem. The week went on as usual, until I received a phone call later one night, one from my mother. I answered the phone, and I could hear sobbing on the other end.
“Mom? Mom, what’s wrong?”
She sniffled and spoke a few words. Emptiness. Emptiness is the only word I can use to describe it. I lowered my head, threw myself onto my bed, and laid there for hours. It was the calm before the storm, feeling nothing but a pit at the bottom of my stomach. Disbelief was still inhibiting realization. I didn’t try to sleep and instead listened to Mumford and Sons, my favorite band, for much of that night. Time progressed. I started to punch my pillows. The funeral came. I walked over to the casket, knowing they had kept it closed for morbid reasons. I’d heard enough about the grizzly conditions they’d found him in. I begged God for change, for this to be just like Lazarus in the Bible, come forth, Lazarus, rise from the tomb or whatever the hell it said. I never used to pray. That night I found myself praying as I drove home, praying as I showered, praying as I washed the dishes, and praying as I fell asleep. It was a storm cloud hanging over my head; looking down would make it go away, but you could still hear the thunder.
I skipped work for the rest of that week and came back the next Monday. Every few minutes, something would distract me. I shook my leg, tried to keep it still, and then gave in to the shaking again. I tapped my pen against my desk and cracked the joints in my fingers. My computer screen sat before me. Images flashed on it; my girlfriend, Jackson, and Matt. My girlfriend, Taylor, and Jackson’s smiles looked so fake compared to Matt’s now. I went through my computer and deleted every single picture I had left of Jackson and Taylor. This was followed by the memory of my cousin and I, sitting in the shop. Cold coffee. His face. The man’s face, his smile. The man walking into the mist. The moment where we shook hands and he patted me on the back and told me everything would be alright one last time.
“Carson, are you okay?” somebody tapped me on the shoulder.
I spun around, feeling myself choke up, and something wet drizzling down my cheek. I wiped it away and sniffled.
“I’m so, so sorry for your loss. You can go home, if you need to.” my boss said calmly.
“Yes, that’d be good. Thank you for understanding, Mr. Johnson.”
“Carson, you know everybody just calls me Michael.”
“Sorry.” I said, standing up.
I pushed my chair in behind me, gathered my things, and started the walk for the parking lot, which was across from the office. More mist and rain. A sheet of water splashed over my shirt as a car passed me in the street, laying on their horn. They rolled their window down.
“Watch where you’re going, buddy!” shouted a gruff voice.
I didn’t bother to look at who was driving. I looked next to my car, unlocking the doors. Someone was parked in the spot next to mine who I had never seen before. She had long, blonde hair. She turned her head slowly, a smile growing on her lips. Chills coursed through me. I got into my sedan and shut the door, starting the car. I shot her one last glance, seeing her impossibly white teeth once more. I didn’t smile or wave, and instead threw the car into drive and pulled forward out of my space, zoomed across the parking lot, then proceeded to cruise along the roads back to my apartment. I felt shivers running down my back as I thought of the woman in the car again, and that sickening smile that she wore. Her eyes never blinked. She didn’t even seem to be breathing. Sleep didn’t come easily that night. I threw the sheets off of me, feeling hot and cold rushes winding through my skin. Sweat pooled up in my armpits. I closed my eyes and tried to give in to the blackness. I managed to surrender myself to sleep in time.
I woke up with a stuffy nose and a sore throat. I coughed and looked around my bedroom. It was still dark, with light filtering in from the closed blinds, leaving everything a shade of gray and white. There was a looming shadow in the corner of my room, and I saw a whitish gleam coming from the silhouette, like a reflection, or a trick of the light. I knew, though, that there wasn’t a lamp or coat rack in that corner of the room. My heart pulsed a few times. I felt the blood circulating through me grow thicker, almost defensive, like archers lining a castle wall during a Medieval siege. I jolted forward, glaring at the dark spot. It shifted. I felt eyes piercing into me.
“Who’s there?” I asked.
Nothing in response.
“I’m not playing any games.” I said, my voice sounding withered and defeated.
The gleam in the shadows faded away, and the darkness was broken apart as the sun began to shine brighter through the closed blinds. I sighed, stood up, and began to walk around my bedroom, pacing back and forth. The day continued on. I showed up to work and slugged through it all. I kicked my leg against the ground, tapping a pen against the table. That reminded me of the time where Matt and I, during our history class in middle school, had gotten detention after we continued to tap our pens against our desks. The teacher had started off by giving us a warning. By his third or fourth warning, his face was tomato red and I thought steam would start blowing out of his ears. I remember the two of us laughing about it at lunch with Jackson. Lost in my thoughts, I almost didn’t hear Michael behind me.
“Can you come to my office, Carson?”
I set the pen down and turned around.
“Ummm… yeah. I’ll be there in a moment.”
Michael didn’t say another word and walked away. I looked to him, only to see the back of his suit and his legs carrying him back to his office. I stood and followed, catching the eyes of my fellow employees as I went. I saw a smile flash at me but didn’t recognize who they were. I swallowed and then kept my head pointed down, watching the carpeted floor underneath my feet change colors as I entered another section of the office. Michael’s door was left open, and I didn’t bother to knock. He had multiple awards and trophies sat on the edge of his desk, a laptop open in front of him. He was leaning back in his chair and cracked his knuckles.
“Have a seat.” he said.
He gestured to one of the chairs. I took a spot, sitting down like there was a nail about to jab into my ass, and stared at him.
“This… isn’t an easy conversation to have. You’re a great worker, and a great man, Carson. I’m not going to fire you. That’s not what this is about. But I don’t like seeing you this way. I miss the Carson that walks in and shouts ‘good morning’ every day. I’ve got an offer to make you. I’ve got a good friend, Jenna Gray. She’s a therapist. I’m sure I could get you an appointment with her for free, and maybe even multiple appointments without pay. If you don’t go to her, at least do something. Read a motivational book. Get your feelings out. You know I’m here for you, too, Carson. Take the time to heal, but don’t let yourself get stuck in the mud. I miss your pranks and your energy.”
Noticing the silhouette of a trophy in the corner of the room, I nodded my head.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I know.”
“There’s nothing to be sorry for.”
I agreed to see Jenna sometime soon, and Michael told me he would try to get an appointment or two set up. Work got out at five. I walked across the street and to the parking lot. Along the way, I caught a glimpse of something out of the corner of my eye. I looked up. Parked next to my car was the smiling woman. Only this time, I watched as her teeth parted, and a snaking, inhuman tongue curled out from it. She didn’t say anything and flicked it at me. Flecks of spit shot between her teeth. Her eyes were still stony and shiny, like polished marble. I sprinted to my car and threw the door open. I launched myself into the driver’s seat, stabbed the key into the ignition, and started the car. I peeled out of the lot. I didn’t look back once and found my apartment using an alternative route. Once inside, I sat at the kitchen table. I cradled my face in my hands, rubbed my eyes, and looked around. I hadn’t turned any of the lights on yet. Grayish light covered the apartment. I turned on a small lamp in the kitchen’s corner and leaned against the wall.
The next day, after work, I went to my appointment to go see Jenna. The fog had broken apart during the afternoon. The horizon was painted sky blue, and a glowing yellow plate hung in the sky, beaming rays of sunshine down on my skin. A cool breeze twisted through the air as I stepped out of my car, closing the door behind me. There were a few windows spaced out between the drab bricks. A bell rang as the door opened. There was a mother watching her son play with trucks on the floor; his hair was matted, and his clothes were wrinkled. There were bags underneath his eyes. I stood and watched the boy play for a while; when the mother looked up at me, I almost expected a smile to spread wide across her face. I found nothing but a frown and two hazy eyes staring back at me. I stared for a moment; then I blinked and found a seat.
There was a door on the left with a plaque on it that read JENNA GRAY in thick, golden letters. My sight was trained on the two words like a sniper following its target. I turned my head to look outside again; the sunlight disappeared as fluffy, gray clouds loomed closer, reminding me of warships. The door squeaked, and my head snapped back to the plaque. A filthy, unshaven man coughed and thanked Jenna as he stepped out of her room. With the man gone, I saw Jenna in the doorframe. Her long, blonde hair almost covered her face-wide grin, and her teeth sparkled, bathed in the dim light of the office. She didn’t speak a word to me. I began to take steps backwards, my breath coming in gasps. I felt the collective eyes of the other clients in the waiting room all staring at me. Jenna’s mouth opened, and a tongue began to slither out from between her red lipstick. I don’t remember the seconds between sprinting from the office and getting home. I just remember lying in my bed, naked and shivering from a cold shower, thinking to myself, the woman in the car.
I came to work the day after and performed worse than I ever had since Matt died. I’d woken up early and parked, and planned to leave late, too. While I was at work, I researched and found Jenna Gray’s website and looked for a photo of her on it. Jenna had brunette hair instead of blonde. Different eye colors and facial structures, too. In the middle of the day, I fell half-asleep. When I woke up, thunder cracked and wind screamed all around me. Blue stripes of lightning could be seen through my open window. Rain spilled in as the woman climbed through, the smile still stuck onto her face. I curled into a ball on the other side of the room, clutching a knife in my hand. I pointed it at her and muttered,
“I’m not playing any games.”
Nothing in return but the smile.
I blinked the sleep out of my eyes and looked around the office. Nobody was making any phone calls, and there was no conversation across the room between coworkers. Only the sound of fingertips hitting their keyboards. My head throbbed, and I winced. I thought about trying to go home. I remembered how many days I had already taken off. I think I managed to create the illusion of productivity, writing a few expense reports, long breaks of pen tapping in between each paragraph. I listened to the clock in the cubicle over as it ticked with each passing second. My shaky hands produced errors twice more often than they had the day before. I found myself deleting whole sentences and retyping them.
“Doing good, Carson.” Michael patted me on the back. “You’ve got this.”
I nodded my head.
“Thanks Michael.”
I felt him walk away and didn’t turn to look. Michael told me I needed to go home when I asked to stay longer. I swallowed but didn’t argue. I clocked out and crossed the street with a thumping heart. I could see the familiar car parked next to my own. I reached into my pocket, produced my phone, and turned on the camera app. I took longer strides and was at the woman’s window. She was still there. Her teeth were the first thing I saw. A tongue unfurled itself like a scroll opening. Slobber dripped from her lower lip. I snapped a picture of her and jammed myself into the driver’s seat. The car was in reverse and out of the parking lot in seconds. I almost hit a pedestrian as I went out. I heard their shouts echoing behind me. Shivers raced through my body; the shaking fit continued until I reached the apartment parking lot. I didn’t park the car, and held a foot on the brake instead. I opened the photos app. The woman was outlined with static, as if she had been there in the photo and was cropped out. My stomach flipped like a pancake.
I didn’t sleep whatsoever that night. Light seeping through my blinds was enough to make me jump. My hands trembled and a layer of cold sweat covered me. The headache never left. My body felt spring-loaded, like my bones were going to shoot through my skin. I ate breakfast in a hurry the next morning and parked my car in a small lot, just down the street from my office building. A streetlamp nearby provided enough dull orange light for me to use the stick of deodorant I kept in the glovebox; I had forgotten to shower. Tires rolled across the concrete. My eyes shot over and met another pair of eyes. Stone-cold eyes. I threw my door open, closed it, and locked the doors. I heard another car lock, looked back, and saw the woman standing outside of her car. Her mouth formed a toothless grin. Two tongues slipped out this time. I checked her license plate; there was no number on it. Just a sheet of white metal. I sprinted into the office.
I didn’t get a lot of work done the next day. I took the most pen tapping breaks that I ever had. Michael appeared behind me again, clapping a hand on my shoulder. He murmured his congratulations and sauntered off back to his office. I looked outside as a flock of crows, like little fighter jets, soared by. I ate a cold ham sandwich for lunch, and went back to work. I stared at the crumpled up wrapper that sat in the trash can, shook my head, and tapped my pen against the desk. I felt a hand on my shoulder, turning around to see Matt. He was only there for a second. Long enough for me to see the crazed grin on his face before he disappeared. I froze, my mouth gaping open. My heart jumped a few times. The day started to come to a close. People began to leave the office. Intentionally, I’d left a large task undone.
“Do you think you’re well enough to get it done tonight?” Michael asked, tossing me the keys to the office.
“I’ll try. No promises.” my throat was dry.
“You can lock up, then. Thank you, Carson. Lots of respect for you.”
“Yup.” I replied.
He left the office. I heard the door closing behind him and looked around my cubicle. There was a picture frame in the back corner, with papers piled on top of it. I reached out, brushing the pages aside. Underneath was a framed photograph of Jackson and I on the first day of sixth grade. I stared at him, mostly; his blonde hair was spiked and crusty with gel. Now his face appeared devilish, like that of a mischievous kid. I wished he was in front of me right now; my hands needed to beat something. Glass shards stuck out from my bloodied knuckles after I’d brought my fist against the picture four or five times. With the glass broken, I tore out the photograph inside. My hands ripped it to pieces without me having to think about it. I dropped the remains over the trash bucket in my corner, and they drifted down like snowflakes. I launched the wooden frame into the trash afterwards. My breath came in shaky gasps now. I closed my eyes and leaned back in my chair.
I heard scratching from across the office. Didn’t rouse me. The scratches came again, louder. My head shot up. I squinted and looked at the window on the other side of the office. Most of the lights were out, leaving the building a dim, lifeless color. Fog built up outside, and rain poured down in sheets. Raindrops raced down the glass. A message scratched into the glass was lit up on the window. I shook my head. The urge to stay sitting was powerful. Curiosity yanked me by the hair and dragged me over to the scratches on the window. My first thought was, it’s just a nightmare, Carson. It’s a fucking nightmare and nothing more, so don’t go screaming running out of here. Written from the inside of the office, it read, YOU DON’T SMILE BACK. The balloon that had been inflating since that day in the coffee shop with Matt had just burst. I heard a loud POP in the back of my head.
I ran back to my desk, gathered my things, and dashed out of the office, shutting off all the lights as I went. I locked the door behind me, crossed the parking lot, and got into my car. The woman’s car wasn’t there. The next thing I remembered was being back in my apartment. I’m still there as I write this. I’ve gone to work every single day, for three days, and haven’t seen the woman once. I’ve seen her in my dreams almost every night now; it’s just a replay of that nightmarish daydream I had during work. Rolling thunder. Howling wind. Pouring rain. Her in the windowsill, climbing in, while I cower in the corner with a blade I’m too afraid to use. That sensation of being spring-loaded has grown. Matt’s cause of death was never released. I think I understand why now. Yesterday, my other cousin, Grant, gave me a call. I answered the phone with a grumbling,
“Hey, Grant.”
“Carson? How’re you holding up, man?”
I drew in a deep sigh. I looked out the window next to me, watching the crows find their way through the fog.
“Holdin’ up, I guess.”
I heard Grant swallow through the static.
“Listen, Carson… I’ve got… I’ve got some fucked up news for you. About Matt.”
I waited. A few more crows flapped by, this time closer to my window.
“Wha- what is it?” I stammered.
Grant’s words came out choked.
“His bones stabbed through his skin, Carson. Like his body couldn’t contain them.” he explained. “That’s how he died.”
It was like a rotten, decomposing hole in my chest had begun to gnaw away at my flesh. A few more crows flew by the window. This time there was something on the glass. A smiley-face was scratched into it, done from the inside.
submitted by kalenryan13 to DarknessPrevails [link] [comments]


2020.10.25 02:10 sovagirl Mom in the shower naked

Not sure if this is even the right subreddit for this, but I just don’t have a friend group I trust to as IRL. It’s a bit complicated.
I’m a 50 year old woman. As a teenager I was stalked and repeatedly sexually assaulted by my step-grandfather. He was a professional photographer who specialized in graduation/prom/school photos. We lived for my last two years of high school close to him and my step moms whole extended family. He would follow me and take pictures because I was “so pretty”. That became brushing against me, running his hand up my skirt under the table at family dinners, grabbing my breasts when no one was looking, and finally cornering me in my room once after I had showered and was naked, pushing me down on my bed, and trying to rape me. I was able to push him off of me when the ringing doorbell distracted him, and run naked to the bathroom, locking myself in. All the time we were in a house full of other adult family members. No one noticed or said anything. I avoided family gatherings, locked myself in the bathroom to hide from him... once my aunt asked if I had an eating disorder.
He was a creeper. He slept separately from his wife in his “man cave” garage, decorated entirely in nudie pics, like cut out from playboy, and pictures of young girls that he had shot professionally as a photographer. No one seemed to find this odd. This was the 1980s.
At one point, he was following me around a family Christmas party begging me to smile for him. I gave him an evil look. At some point later, my step mom was looking through the Christmas party pictures and saw that evil look snapshot. She was furious that I would be so “rude” to her father, and in punishment posted the nasty picture on our fridge until I could learn how to “smile Iike a lady”.
I was terrified to tell my parents what was happening. They already thought I was behaving inappropriately with my boyfriend, and I was certain I’d be blamed.
Ok... so I graduated and went off to college. Started dating a very nice boy, who’s father was an nypd cop. I confessed what had happened to him. He was incensed. He thought I needed to tell my parents, particularly since my step grandfather had access to other young girls not just in his work as a school photographer, but I had younger female cousins. He convinced me that I had to come forward. But I knew my dad had such a temper, I was afraid he’d punish me. I agreed to tell if I could tell my stepmom so she could warn her siblings on behalf of my cousins. He held my hand and listened to the whole call.
I told my step mom the whole thing long distance over the phone. Then she dropped the bomb... she wasn’t surprised. Her father had assaulted her when she was 12. That was when her mom had made her dad move into the garage. She said the entire family (?) was well aware of his predilections, that they never allowed him to be alone with girls. And then she begged me... begged me... never to tell my father the truth. That my father would kill her dad, and she just couldn’t face that. She extracted from me a promise of silence. I was 17. That was 33 years ago now.
I never saw my abuser again. I do know that he kept working for another decade. Over the years I’ve had so many questions... if the “whole family” knew he was a pedophile, why was allowed to still work with kids? Why was he allowed to assault me? How did she not see the symptoms when he was stalking me? Did the other cousins really know? How many victims did he have in his lifetime? He was in his 60s when he tried to rape me. I’ve never discussed this with my stepmom to this day.
Fast forward to 2020. I don’t think I’m terribly scarred by my abuse. I’m fairly functional relationship wise and sexually. But...
Last Christmas the shit hit the fan. My two teen children and I were spending Christmas with my dad and stepmom, now in their 70s. We are at opposite ends of the political spectrum. On Christmas Day there was a large social gathering, and my sister in law started a loud conversation that was derogatory towards LGBT people, particularly trans people. What she didn’t know was that my daughter was trans, but not out yet to extended family. After trying to ignore the conversation for a while, my daughter took herself out of the living area. I approached my sister in law to ask her to change the subject because my kid was crying while trying not to out my trans child... and my step mom went ballistic, I guess figured out what the issue was, and ordered me and my kids out of her house. We packed up and spend Christmas night driving 18 hours home. But the time I got on Facebook that night, my stepmom had blocked me. So I haven’t talked to her since. I haven’t heard their version of the whole incident, but through the extended family grapevine I was apparently spouting violent Antifa liberal hatred. Honestly, in all these years, I thought our relationship was formal, but ok. Not so much. 2020 is a dumpster fire.
Since Then I’ve reached out to my dad on his birthday with a letter. Also once with a letter explainIng that my daughter is trans, and that as her mom I am absolutely in her corner. He replied that he’d have to think further. That was six months ago.
I know this is long and confusing, but my question is this: I get that he’s chosen not to be in relationship with me, his only biological child, and his grandchildren, because he has issues with transgender people. My heart breaks for that, but he’s made his choice. I can’t change that. But more and more I keep coming back to this issue of abuse. I feel like I was silenced. Like now I will never have a chance to tell what really happened to me, how painful and terrifying and horrible those high school years were. There’s no change that can come from me speaking, I know. My abuser is long dead. And in the case of my father all it can do is throw a complication into his marriage... over 30 years... with a woman who obviously has issues of her own. She did tell me that she had been a victim of her fathers’ abuse. Perhaps there was more she didn’t divulge. Maybe my anger at her ruining my relationship with my dad is all that is motivating me in this? I don’t know.
But part of me is tired of being silent. I’ve never told my mom, my biological mom, about it because although we are very close, I know she’d go ballistic. And there’s that 30 year old promise hanging over me. I’m Tired of lying. I know, of course, that my step mom would deny what I say. She clearly has issues with truth telling. I could theoretically try to get in touch with my old boyfriend who heard the whole conversation, he’s a federal judge now, bless his soul. At least he was a young man who wasn’t willing to give sexual abuse a pass.
I don’t feel like I need therapy. I’m happy in my life. I have great kids. I love my boyfriend. I just wish my parents really knew what happened to me. Why do I still care so much?
submitted by sovagirl to survivorsofabuse [link] [comments]


2020.10.23 02:08 j2202412 Mom in the shower naked

Jason wasn't your average 18 year old boy. He liked Legos, school and the colors blue and purple the most. He was a much more modest boy than his peers. He was skinny, weighing 160 pounds.
Jason started to change around 13. He used to walk around wearing very little or nothing at all. Then he stopped liking to wear shorts all of a sudden, he wouldn't let his mom, Cindy, get too close to him while he was in bed just wearing his underwear. He would wear t-shirts but never roll or push up his sleeves. He didn't want to move his sleeves as he didn't want to draw attention to his arm hair. He didn't want his mom to see him shirtless or his legs. He also had a fantasy about his mom making him remove all of his clothes and slapping his balls.
Cindy noticed her son change. Maybe it's just because he's ending puberty, she thought. "I'll ask him about it later when he gets home from school" she said aloud to herself.
Jason came home from school wearing sweatpants and a long sleeve sweatshirt. "Hey mom" he said. "How was school?" She replied. "Good."
C "Do you want me to make you a snack?"
J "Yeah, how about some scrambled eggs?"
C "Coming right up!"
J "Thanks mom"
C "Your welcome sweetheart. Can I ask you a semi personal question while they cook?"
J "Sure I guess"
C "Why are you so modest? It's just the two of us. I changed your diaper until you were 2. And I even bathed you until 4, then would see you naked when I checked on you in shower up to the age of 6."
J "I don't know mom, I just like my privacy more now I guess."
C "Your eggs are done. But you can only eat them if you push your sleeves up to the elbows. It's ok that you want privacy, but I want you to feel comfortable around me and be able to show me anything that might be wrong without worry."
J "Ok. Here I go I guess." He pushed his sleeves up to the elbow
C "There. Isn't so bad is it?"
J "I guess it's not. Can I take my socks off?"
C "Can I take them off and push your pant legs up to above the knee?"
J "Sure"
Cindy did so. Her mission to get him naked to hit his balls. She wanted to hit him just once. He was starting to look like her ex and one quick not very hard kick would make her feel great. She also saw something about ballbusting under Jason's bed. She knew what it was and kinda liked knowing it.
Jason finished his eggs. He got up and walked around for a few minutes to get used to his new state.
C "Ok son, it's time we progress into helping your modesty. Take off your sweatshirt."
J "Alright."
He pulled it over his head and off. He was wearing a t-shirt underneath. He secretly was loving this. He was living his fantasy.
C "And the T-shirt. I want you shirtless."
He took it off and was now shirtless in front of his mom.
C "See? Nothing to be ashamed of. You are pretty white though, we can fix that later. Let's go do your homework together."
They began his homework. It was pretty easy. After about 10 questions Cindy had him remove his pants. He was now just wearing royal blue boxer briefs. Jason was so excited, as was Cindy. They both couldn't wait until his balls were in pain. His homework was completed in all subjects about an hour later. During the work, Cindy said "Put your you know what in the fly of your underwear." So it was visible to anyone to the right of him, she was on his left.
C "It's time son. Come to the living room."
Jason knew what time it was. He walked up to her and pulled his underwear off. He stepped out of them. She inspected every inch of his naked body to check for anything wrong. It wasn't sexual, just a mom helping her son.
C "I know about the ball busting. You are starting to look like dad. I want to help you with your fetish, and I want to relieve some pent up aggression."
Jason was shocked but before he could say anything Cindy kneed him as hard as she could in the balls. He dropped. His balls were on fire but he got hard. Cindy apologized for hitting that hard but Jason removed his hands and said "don't break them, but keep going". She agreed and kicked them, punched them, squeezed them, pulled on them. She gave him 20 seconds between each attack to recover a little bit. With every attack she used less and less force. Jason was loving it. He came four or five times that hour. It was the best hour of his life.
She gave him an ice pack and cleaned up the room and his body. She held him by letting lay curled up in a ball on her lap for an hour after cleaning up before bathing him. His balls were dark red and swollen big. She put him to bed and said "let's do this again sometime. Don't be modest anymore".
A Mom Helping Her Son Part 2
It was now Saturday morning. Jason was laying in his bed naked. Last night was amazing, but my balls are still so swollen, he thought. He hears a knock at the door, "come in" he says. Cindy walks in to see her son completely covered by his blankets.
C "Hey buddy, how are you feeling?"
J "Ok I guess. They still hurt and are pretty swollen. Can I have a new ice pack please?"
C "Sure baby, I'll go get one but when I come back I want you to be on top of your blankets so I can look at your balls and make sure they aren't broken."
J "Ok mom, I don't think I can stand up yet though."
C "Just try, if you can't get up just wait for me to return."
Jason tries to get up, but that makes the pain worse and he can't get up. Cindy returns and sees the blankets completely off him.
C "No luck?"
J "Sorry mom, it just hurts too much."
C "That's ok baby. This works too. Let's take a look here."
She begins to look him over.
J "My right ummm....."
C "Say whatever word you'd like, ball, nut, testicle would be the medical term."
J "My right ball is usually bigger than my left nut. This is a weird conversation. Neither of those are comfortable to say when I have to say it like this to you. I guess I'll just use the medical word to make it less weird. My right testicle is usually bigger than my left testicle. But it's never been this big before Owwwwwwwww!"
Cindy had grabbed his right testicle to see if it was broken.
C "I'm so sorry bud! But I have to make sure it's not ruptured."
Cindy felt really bad. She had hurt her son. She loves him with all her heart and knew he liked it but she knew she couldn't do this much again.
J "It's ok mom, I asked for this and I did enjoy it as messed up as --- Owwwwwwwww! That sounds."
C "I promise I won't go as far ever again. I admit I got a bit carried away. It's just you look like your father and he abused me. I know that's no excuse but I never hit him back out of fear he'd kill me. I don't want you to feel bad about that. I love you and that will never change."
J "Thanks mom I love you too. I guess my fetish benefits us both."
C "Yeah, anyway, they don't feel ruptured. I'm sorry I had to grab and roll them a little bit. What would you like me to refer to them as?"
J "Anything you want."
C "Ok, since you say testicle, I'll say testicle or testicles if it's plural. What about your?" She said pointing at his penis.
J "Penis. That's the medical word right? Might as well use the medical word for it too."
C "Yes, penis is the medical word for it. For fun, I'll explain some more medical words. You are circumcised. That means when you were a baby, your father and I made the decision to have your foreskin removed. I think it looks better and it's easier to keep it clean. Your penis still works the same as anyone else's penis. Wow your right, this is weird isn't it?"
J "Yeah, but I doubt any other guys can openly talk to their moms about their penis and testicles. I wonder how many guys at school had their penises circumcised."
C "Don't ask, remember this is our secret. It's an inappropriate question."
J "Ok mom I won't. I need to pee, how should I do that since I can't stand up?"
C "I'll help with that, come on."
She helped him get up, he moaned in pain. They get into the bathroom.
C "Would you like to stand or sit?"
J "I don't think I'll be able to get up if I sit down."
C "Stand it is." She picked the seat up.
Jason goes to let go of the counter to aim but almost falls.
J "Uh mom, if I let go of the counter I'll fall."
C "Hmmm, I haven't aimed a penis since I was teaching you but I think I still know how to."
Cindy's left arm was wrapped around Jason. Her hand was on his chest. Jason had his right arm around her and his left hand on the counter. With her right hand, Cindy took hold of Jason's penis, and aimed into the toilet. He peed without missing a drop.
J "Nice aim mom!"
C "Thanks, guess I still got it."
Cindy blotted his penis and helped him to the living room and onto the couch. She flushed the toilet and washed her hand.
She cared for him the rest of the day. Helping him pee and hold the ice on his testicles.
J "Mom, they feel better now. Thanks for all the help today. Do you want to slap my testicles a little bit?"
C "Your welcome sweetheart, I'm glad they feel better and the swelling is gone. Are you sure you want more pain?"
J "Yeah, I'm sure. Think of it as a thanks for helping me today."
C "Ok, just a few slaps."
She slaps his testicles, lightly at first. "Harder," Jason says. She begins hitting harder. Jason was loving this. His penis was hard. He came after about 30 hard slaps.
J "Ok, stop please. I don't want anymore."
C "Ok, let's get you bathed and back in bed."
She bathes him again, helps him to bed and covers him only to below his ribcage."
C "Good, goodnight sweetheart. I love you."
J "Goodnight mom, I love you too."
A Mom Helping Her Son Part 3
It was Sunday morning. Jason had woken up to note on his phone. "Going out to buy you some shorts, get up if you can and put some underwear on. Don't go to the bathroom. Love, mom" the note said. Jason got up, put some purple boxer briefs on and got back in bed. Maybe I should put my penis in the fly, he thought. He did, and started watching Lego videos on his phone.
About 20 minutes later, he hears the door open.
C "Jason, are you up yet?"
J "Yeah, mom, I did what you asked."
C "Perfect, how are your testicles feeling?"
J "Great, they aren't swollen or in pain at all!"
C "Awesome!"
She appeared in his doorway holding 3 pairs of shorts. 1 with a zipper, 2 without. Jason was sitting up shirtless in his bed, he had put his phone down when he saw his mom.
C "Here you go honey, I thought since you were more comfortable with me seeing your body, you could wear some shorts around the house and to school tomorrow."
J "Wow, thanks mom! I love them."
C "I'm glad. Hahahaha, you know it's funny."
J "What?"
C "On Friday morning when I woke you up for school, you wouldn't have let me see you shirtless, now, you let me see you naked. Here you are, on Sunday morning, sitting up in bed, shirtless, talking to me."
J "Hahahaha, yeah I guess you're right. I don't know why I was so modest. Thanks for breaking me out of it."
Cindy pulled the sheets back, and slapped his testicles through his underwear.
C "Nice purple boxer briefs, and your welcome for the modesty ending and the slap. Put the zipper ones on."
Jason got up and put the zipper ones on.
C "Let's go test them in the bathroom, I want to make sure you can pee."
They went to the bathroom together. Jason was still shirtless. He put the seat up, and pulled it out.
J "Wow, it was really easy to get my penis out mom, would you like to aim again?"
C "Good, I'm happy you can get it out easily. Sure, why not?"
She steps behind him and aims. He begins to pee and Cindy uses the stream to make a J.
C "J for Jason."
He laughs at her joke and finishes. He puts it away and they both wash their hands.
C "Go put a shirt and socks on, I'll make pancakes."
J "Ok, thanks."
Jason puts a long sleeve shirt on and pushes his sleeves up. He puts on his purple socks and goes to the kitchen. Cindy sees him come into the kitchen and says
"Wow, look at you. Shorts, long sleeve shirt with the sleeves up." She walks up and kicks him in the testicles medium hard.
"Ohhhhhhhhh. Thanks". Jason says as he falls to the ground.
C "Pancakes will be done in 7 minutes. That should give you enough time to recover."
Jason recovers and they eat. They clean up after they're done and Cindy says "Come here, sit next to mom on the couch."
C "As you know, Tiffany's son, Tommy has just been sentenced to 30 years in prison for attempting to murder her. She told me last night after you were asleep she'd like to kick him in the groin. You like it, would you be open to just one kick from her? You'd really be helping her out. But if you don't want to, you absolutely do not have to. This is completely your choice. She doesn't know anything I've done to you. I'll make sure she doesn't use too much force. I'll protect you. I won't let anything bad happen."
J "Woah that's a big ask, mom. I appreciate the shorts, I really do and I want to help you help her but I thought this was our secret?"
C "It is sweety, but she'd do it just once. She keeps a secret really well. And I'm sure if you do this for her, she won't use it against you or mention it to anyone including us after it happens."
J "Would I get anything special in return?"
C "Like what?"
J "I don't know, I'll think of something." There's a long pause. "I'll do it for her. I can't imagine what her son was thinking when he did that and I want her to get some closure."
C "Ok, I'm so proud of you for being willing to do this. I promise I won't let her go too far. I'll invite her over right now."
Cindy calls Tiffany and invites her over. Tiffany arrives an hour later and all 3 of them start talking.
T "I just can't believe Tommy would do that still, he's only 25 and he won't be out until he's 55."
They talk some more, about the incident, Jason's school work, Cindy's job. Then this conversation...
C "Tiffany I'm going to tell you something that can never be said to anyone. I know you want to hurt Tommy's balls. In this house we say testicles. Jason likes ballbusting, I was able to break his modesty streak as you tell. He's agreed to ONE kick. You can kick his testicles ONE time."
T "Jason, are you sure?"
J "Yes, just please don't kick full force. I want to help you."
T "Ok then." She said nervously.
C "I'll get the ice pack."
T "Promise I will never mention this to anyone and I'll never bring it up to you or your mom."
J "Ok, how would you like me dressed?" He also said nervously.
Cindy returned with the ice pack.
C "Do you want to get naked so she can see the target and the aftermath?"
Tiffany nodded. Jason got naked, removing everything including his socks. Tiffany looked at the target, lined herself up and said "I'll only kick with 50% force. And with that, she kicked. Jason screamed out in pain and collapsed.
Jason began crying as he held himself. Cindy and Tiffany both rubbed his arms, chest, back, legs, and head.
C "You did so good sweetheart. I'm right here, you're ok. Here's your ice pack"
T "I'm so sorry for hurting you this bad. I'll make it up to you, I promise."
Jason cried for 20 minutes while the women comforted him. Jason stopped crying and forgave Tiffany.
J "Mom, will you check my testicles please?"
They were bigger than Friday night, dark red. Tiffany held his arms while Cindy checked them.
C "They feel ok, just swollen."
Tiffany took her top and bra off, showing Jason her boobs.
J "I like this reward."
Tiffany let him play with her boobs for an hour. She had to go to the dentist, so she got dressed.
T "I'll never say a word, this never happened. Again, I'm so sorry for hurting you."
J "It's ok, thanks for the reward."
Tiffany left and Cindy kept comforting her son, congratulating him, and helped him to bathe, and to bed naked again. She brought him dinner in bed. And kept him as comfortable as she could.
Later that night, she went into his room and pulled his sheets down to expose him. Jason liked laying in bed with his chest out so he laid like that all the time now.
C "Wow, still red and swollen. How do they feel?"
J "They hurt, not as bad but a little worse than after your kick this morning. I don't think I'll be able to go to school tomorrow."
C "How about a testicular massage?"
J "Sure."
She massaged them until about 20 minutes after he fell asleep, kissed his head, and said, "good night, my sweetheart".
submitted by j2202412 to bbextra [link] [comments]


2020.10.22 20:41 brownchloee4 Foggy Memories of CSA [Trigger Warning]

I've always had very foggy memories of being abused by my neighbour as a fourteen year old. I remember being at his house and thinking that he did something bad to me in certain areas of the house. Thinking about these things made me feel guilty. It made me feel like something was wrong with me for thinking that he did bad things to me because it felt like a dream. I told myself I was crazy.
As a teenager I was diagnosed with PTSD. Ive always had images in my head of things that happened, but its still all very confusing. Everything's so foggy and the images aren't chronological. My body reacts in certain ways. For example, when im touched I get startled or scream. I have these fears like of being home alone, taking a shower or of waking up in the middle of the night, which match with the images / dreams ive had.
I guess I just find it so confusing how my body knows things that my mind has hazy memories of. I can remember before and after the incidents clearly. My neighbours actions afterwards even were so confusing. I have this memory of waking up and seeing everything in the room in different colours which makes me think I was drugged. I went downstairs and asked his wife if I could go home and she told me that if have to call my mom and see if im allowed to go home first. I think being drugged might also contribute to the haziness of my memories. I always just told myself as a teenager that I was just crazy for thinking of these images / dreams.
I think the worst part is that it really benefits my abuser how foggy my memories are. I also didn't like how my mom reacted when I told her about the abuse. The first time I told her I was laying on the bathroom floor cold and naked after he came in on me she didn't say anything. The second time, she took it more seriously because my brother also came forward with memories about being sexually abused in that house. However I still really didn't like how she handled it. She told me that I couldn't see my boyfriend until I worked through my issues regarding the trauma, which still bothers me to this day because my mind starts circling and thinking I made stuff up so I could see my boyfriend. But then it circles back and I remember that I had images and dreams before she told me that. I would tell people before that even that I was a victim of sexual abuse. I just can't remember what memories I had before and after she said this comment, which bothers me.
I'm in therapy, but I feel like I can't even tell my therapist this because then she won't believe me. I feel like it would hurt me a lot if someone didnt believe me even though i struggle a lot with believing myself. I just dont know if its normal for memories / dreams to be so foggy. My dreams usually contain elements of him choking me or doing something bad to me, but not every part of the dream is accurate which is also confusing.
If anyone else has foggy memories / was drugged it would be very helpful just to hear that im not alone with feeling this way.
submitted by brownchloee4 to CPTSD [link] [comments]