My fingers didn’t go the whole way around. It was so hard I thought I felt him throbbing in my hand. He took my wrists and slowly moved my hands up and down. He told me that I wanted to put my mouth on him (not in those words). I was very unsure. I have never done this. Before in my life I tried twice and had to stop. I didn't like it. I told Mr. Jones that I didn't really know what I was doing and that I didn't want to look ridiculous. He said he would show me. (My experience sex up to this time had been very...well...conservative. My husband won't even turn the lights on.) Mr. Jones started rubbing himself across my lips telling me to open my mouth. So I did. I could get just the top and a bit more. He told me to just use my lips and tongue, no teeth, and to move my head up and down. He also kept both of my hands on him and moved them up and down with my head. He pulled my hair back like a ponytail and used it to hold on to. It was hard to imagine how open my. With the voice not so unlike a mouse in an animated movie to my own ears, "What do you mean mom?" I wanted to take my hand off my nearly soft member and to pull the loose shorts back up over my balls and dick - yet, I dare not move... could not move from fright. She would surely know the truth of it if I had."Its OK honey!" She a small amount of compassion to her normally stern voice and rather than calm my fear and degradation, it only inflated it. I had guessed years ago, that her perpetual anger toward me was because I was starting to look more and more like dad as grew into manhood. "Really... I understand."What could she possibly understand - she was twenty five years older than I for gods sake?Slowly and calmly I lifted my enclosed hand from my exposed groin, not daring to move my bottoms back to my waist else mother would hear me. It left me exposed to the nights darkness, but I guessed it the lesser of evils. There was no way mother could see a thing - it was pitch black in.
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