Life's Big Problems
A few years ago, I was faced with a seemingly insoluble problem. It came about like this.
One night I was going to my bedroom after showering and changing into my night things, and I had to pass by my son's room. His door was open a little way, and as I passed I thought I heard sobbing.
Now, my son Hugh is not really the sort to cry easily. At the time, he was eighteen, six feet two inches tall, quite well built and nicely endowed with good looks, and I must admit, his mother's darling.
I hesitated to interrupt, but then the mothering instinct grabbed me, and I put my head round the door. He was in bed lying on his back and was clearly masturbating under the bedclothes.
The masturbating did not bother me. I had assumed that he had been doing that since he entered puberty. What did trouble me was the crying. I thought I had better let him get his masturbating over, and ask him later about the crying.
I was about to withdraw my head, and he must have seen or heard me. He quickly stopped masturbating, turned on his side, and said, "Mum!"
"I'm sorry, darling," I apologised, "but I thought I heard you crying and was worried. Where you crying?"
"Yes," he mumbled. I entered the room and asked, "Anything I can do to help?" He looked at me with eyes full of sadness, "No one can help," he said.
"That sounds desperate," I replied, smiling. His response was a sort of grunt. "Want to tell me about it?" I went on. "No point," he muttered.
"Come on," I said, "surely it can't be that bad. What's it about?" "Girls and me, I suppose," he mumbled. "What about girls and you," I queried. "They don't like me," he replied, this time speaking out clearly.
"Girl trouble I thought." I had suspected something was wrong in this department for some time. When he was about sixteen, Hugh had started to go out with girls. His father and I had given him the standard sort of talk about contraceptives and disease, and left it at that. What I had particularly noticed, however, was that we were not subjected to the anxieties of most parents, sitting up waiting anxiously for their teenage offspring to return home in the early hours of morning. Hugh might leave home about 8 p.m., and be home no later 11 p.m., and whilst this was nice for his father and I, it did make me wonder what was going on.
I had also noticed that to start with, Hugh seemed to get plenty of dates, but over the last six months dating appeared to have diminished to zero. This had me puzzled. The problem surely was not physical, was it? If not, then it had to be psychological – something to do with Hugh's personality. Yet, even this seemed wrong. In spite of his sturdy build, Hugh was very gentle and kind, and surely, this must appeal to quite a few girls.
I pursued the subject. "Why don't girls like you?"
He hesitated for a moment, then burst out, "Because I'm deformed."
I was stunned. My mother's pride erupted in an instant. "Deformed?" I had given birth to this boy; he had been perfectly all right, a nice eight pound baby with not a blemish. "How dare anyone say my boy was deformed."
I sat on his bed and spluttered out, "What utter nonsense. I've seen you naked from when you were born until you were about twelve years old, and there was absolutely no deformity about you."
"Well there is now," he snapped. "Where?" I snapped back. I was utterly incensed by the suggestion that my lovely boy had anything wrong with him.
"It doesn't matter," he said, turning away from me. "It does, it does," I protested. "Show me this so-called deformity." "I can't," he muttered.
I wasn't going to let this matter go. "Come on," I cried, "Let me see this deformity." "I can't," he said again, then added, "It's my thing, my…er…my penis." "Your what?" I exploded. "My penis," he said again.
"Your penis! The last time I saw it there was nothing wrong with it at all."
"That was nearly five years ago, mother," he said. He was right. He had been twelve the last time I got a glimpse of his penis. After that he went through the shy stage and wouldn't let either his father or me see him naked.
"So what's wrong with it now?" I asked.
"All right, mother, you want to know, so I'll show you." He was lying on his back now, and he slowly lowered the bedclothes. What I saw stunned me. I was speechless for a full minute.
I had only had experience of one penis, my husband's. About average sizes, big or large sizes, I had never taken any interest. What my husband Steve had, had proved very satisfactory from our first time together. What I saw now I could hardly believe. My son had a giant penis. What it measured in length I don't really know – perhaps fourteen or fifteen inches. I have since learned that the average circumference of a penis is about two and a half inches. Hugh's must have been twice that at least. The head seemed almost of a tennis ball. I looked down at his testes. To continue the imagery, they looked like two golf balls.
I could hardly believe what I was seeing. How in the world had I never noticed this phenomenon before? He must have gone to great lengths (no pun intended) to hide his manhood from us.
His penis was still erect, and I thought he might have been playing a trick on me. Perhaps he had bought some realistic trick penis that was hardly detectable as a fake. I reached out to touch it, to make sure of its reality. I looked at him and asked, "Do you mind?" He shook his head. I let my fingers rest on the head, it was solid, hot flesh, and I could feel it throbbing with his heartbeat. I let my fingers slide down its length and onto his testes. Everything was real, it was him.
I took my hand away and tried to speak. I managed to croak out, "Darling, you've just got a very large penis, that's all, it's not a deformity." "Try telling that to the girls, he groaned. As soon as they see it, they shut up shop and run. And now they've told every other girl I'm likely to meet, and none of them will date with me."
I felt the cruelty of this, but could understand how the girls must feel. They could see themselves being impaled and torn apart by this mighty sexual organ. Even to give him oral sex would be impossible for most girls. How many of them would have mouths big enough to take in a head the size of a tennis ball?
Knowing I had to say something, I murmured to him in a comforting sort of voice, "Darling, I'd like to think about this, and then discuss it with you another time. Is that all right?" He nodded.
Feeling deeply sorry for him, I went on, "And darling, would you like me to try and help you now?" I reached out my hand and touched his penis again. He nodded and whispered, "Would you, mum?" "Of course," I murmured softly. He had probably never had anyone touch his penis apart from himself. I tried to put one hand round his organ, but it didn't reach even half way. I used two hands on him, slowly stimulating him at first until I felt his orgasm approaching then speeded up.
Great gouts of sperm shot out of him, some of it splashing against my face and nightdress. He produced the huge amount his testes promised, and when it was over, I had to get a towel to soak it up. I asked him, "Feel better now," and he whispered, "Lovely, mum." I left him to clean myself up and change my nightdress. No point in having husband Steve asking awkward questions.
When I finally got to bed, Steve said, "Where the hell have you been? I almost fell asleep waiting for you. ""Been doing a bit of cleaning up," I answered, smiling to myself. Steve began his foreplay with me, and later, when we were moaning together, I kept having flashbacks to Hugh's sexual organ.
In Search of a Solution
As I had told Hugh I would, I thought about his problem. It was hardly possible to do anything else. I knew women could have breast reduction operations. Could men have penis reduction operations? I went in search of books on the subject, but found nothing that would help.
I went to the Internet and spent hours trying every site I could think of, and still no help. There were plenty of sites that advertised penis enlargement, but none on reduction. I learnt a lot about the male organ, but nothing that would help Hugh. The more pornographic sites were swamped with men who had huge sexual organs, but they were all in fantasyland. Hugh was reality.
I tried telephoning all sorts of counseling services and medical clinics, but as I had to try and mask what I really wanted to know, they proved of no use. I despaired of the idea of reduction, and now focused on seeing if I could get my son an experience of sexual intercourse with a woman.
I thought that perhaps there were prostitutes who specialised in large male organs, and managed to get the number of a well-known brothel. The result was plenty of abuse and no help. I was stumped.
A Possible Solution
After about two weeks I still had found no way out, and had not spoken on the subject to Hugh. Then one afternoon I was lying on the bed and an idea began to creep up on me. At the bottom of our bed was a large mirror, in it I could see myself, and my eyes began to focus on my vagina. I opened my legs and looked more closely, and pulling the lips apart, I tried to estimate how big my entrance was. I thought, "If an eight pound baby could come out through there, was it possible for Hugh's penis to go in through there?"
At first, this was a purely theoretical idea. Women are designed to have babies, and large though Hugh's penis is, it isn't as big as many babies who pass through the vagina.
The problem it now seemed to me was to get a woman to take the risk. You no doubt have already guessed where this was leading. My father used to have a saying, "If you want a job well done, do it yourself." "Why not?" I thought. If I expected a woman to risk the agony of Hugh penetrating her, why should I not be the one to take the risk?
This of course, would be incest, and if it took place and Steve found out, our marriage would be at an end. This must not happen. I was very happy with Steve, and my happiness apart, I would do nothing to hurt him. Then again, that other old saying, "What the eye doesn't see, the heart doesn't grieve about." If it happened at all, it would have to be in strict secrecy and when Steve was off on a business trip for a few days.
There was also the matter of Hugh himself. As far as I knew, and despite my own love for him, he had never shown any special sexual desire for me. I knew that little boys were supposed to desire their mother, but this had never been obvious between Hugh and I, except on that recent occasion when I had relieved him. Even then, it had not seemed like sexual desire on his part for me. It had simply been my attempt to relieve him of sexual tension for a while. I resolved to sound Hugh out carefully on the subject.
The opportunity came with Steve taking off on one of his trips, announcing that he would be away for at least a week. It was university vacation time, so Hugh was around the house a bit more than usual. So the day after Steve left, I took my courage in both hands, and tackled Hugh.
I found him in the family room reading a book. I began by saying I would like to have a talk with him, if he wasn't too busy. He put the book down, and gave me his full attention. It was a hot day, and to try to force things along a bit, I was wearing a bikini of the scantiest sort.
I sat down and began, "Hugh, that matter we were talking about a couple of weeks ago…" "Yes?" he said quickly, indicating that he understood what I meant. "Darling," I continued, "I've given it a lot of thought, and although I haven't been able to come up with a compete solution, there is one thing that could be done which might help." He looked a bit disappointed, but asked, "What do you suggest?"
"First of all, darling," I went on, "I must have your solemn word that what I am about to suggest will never be passed on to anyone, especially your father. I know that sounds deceitful, and it probably is deceitful, but unless I can have your assurance that you will say nothing, we can stop right now." "Okay," he said cautiously, wondering what was coming, "Not a word to anyone, ever."
"A question, then, darling. When I relieved you sexually, did you enjoy me doing it?" "Yes, of course," he replied, smiling for the first time. "It was fantastic." "You see, my love, I think what needs to happen is for a woman to allow you to try and penetrate her. In that way you will gain confidence in yourself, you will be more secure in knowing that it is possible for you to have sexual relations with women. It may not mean that a lot of girls will be prepared to take you on, but at least you will know that it is possible."
He came back at me, "And what woman would you suggest. I've never met one who has been willing to even let me try." He gave a cynical laugh. "There is one," I said very softly. He looked at me keenly. "Who?" "Me," I answered.
That stopped him in his tracks. He looked down at the floor; he looked up at the ceiling, then brought his gaze back to me. His eyes took me in, as they never had before. He was assessing me as a sexual being. He broke out, "But you're my mother…"
"Yes, darling," I cut in, "I'm your mother, and it would be incest. You only have to say 'no', and we leave it right there. Say 'yes', and we go ahead whenever you feel ready."
I now had little doubt what his answer would be. His eyes had traveled over my breasts and down to my groin. He could see my mound descending to the cleft of my sexual organ, and one thing was certain, he couldn't hide his reaction to what he saw. His penis was too massive to hide in his pants.
He suddenly rose and came across to me, kneeling and taking my face in his hands, he began kissing me and saying, "Oh God, yes mother, please, I want you. I want you so badly."
He had no shirt on, and the head of his penis had risen above the waist of his trousers. It was wet with precum. I bent over and kissed it, and said, "Come to the bedroom with me, my love." We went hand in hand.
He took off my bikini and his shorts then carried me over to the bed, this virgin son of mine. His lips came to my breasts and sucked my nipples while his hand explored my opening. He was no expert lover, this lovely son of mine, but to have his naked body pressed against me was driving me mad. I begged him, "Come into me, darling, come in now, I can't wait."
I spread my legs wide, drawing my knees apart to give him the biggest possible entry. He came between my legs and I felt the massive head of his penis probing me. He gradually increased the pressure, and I seized his hips, pulling as hard as I could. He didn't enter.
After about five minutes of this struggle, he suddenly pulled away moaning, "It's no good mother, I can't get in."
"Darling," I whispered, "you shall get in, you shall. Lay over on your back." He lay on his back, his mighty organ rising up like a great tower. I sat across him, lowering myself onto the head until it touched the lips of my vagina. I reached down and pulled the lips apart, and he was hard up against my entrance.
Speaking softly, I said, "Take hold of my hips and when I say 'yes,' pull me down as hard as you can." "I can't, mother," he groaned, "I shall hurt you too badly." "Just do it, darling, just do it. Do it to please me." He nodded.
I made sure that I was centered right over him with my body, then quietly said, 'Yes.'" He pulled me down as I let my full weight drop onto his penis, there was a moments hesitation, then I felt an agonising pain engulf me.
My entrance was torn apart, and I screamed, but such had been the momentum of our effort, we could not stop. His penis thrust into me to the top of my vagina, and then it stopped momentarily. "I screamed out, "No more, darling, please, no more, you can't…" But again, it was too late. Before I could lift my weight off him or he stop pulling on my hips he smashed through.
I was writhing in agony, begging and pleading for him to withdraw from me. He stopped pulling on my hips and I managed to lift my weight, but withdrawal was even more excruciating than the penetration had been.
I was screaming and sobbing, begging for release from this unbearable pain. As I came completely off him, he was looking at my vagina. "My God, mother, what have I done to you? You're bleeding."
I rolled away from him, crouching in a fetal position, trying to minimise the agony I felt.
Hugh tried to comfort me, but I pushed him away, gasping, "Leave me, darling, just leave me, I'll be all right." He hesitated and I almost screamed at him, "Go." He went with doubtful backward looks.
I lay there in a bed that was gradually soaking up my blood. For about half an hour I lay there, then I struggled up and dragged myself to the bathroom. I showered and tried to assess the damage using a small hand mirror. The injuries must have been mostly deep inside me. I could see some blood oozing out from abrasions at my entrance, but most of it was coming from deeper in. I put on a tampon, swallowed some aspirin, and staggered back to the bedroom.
The bed had been freshly remade with clean sheets. The blood stained sheets were nowhere in sight. Hugh, the darling, not knowing what else to do, had done this. I crawled into bed and lay there curled up in my misery and pain. The aspirin began to take effect, easing the worst of the pain a little. I slept.
I don't know how long I slept, but when I woke, it was to find Hugh sitting beside the bed. It was dark outside and he had turned on one small bed lamp. "How are you," he asked in a voice full of anxiety. I allowed myself to feel how I was, then answered, "The pain is not so bad now." I knew I should see a doctor, but how would I explain how I became injured? Could I say, "I asked my son to fuck me, and because he has such a big prick, he did this to me?" I didn't fancy that.
Hugh asked if I wanted anything to eat or drink. He had made some soup, he said, would I try it? I thought I might as well. After what I had done that day, Hugh's soup could not do much more damage. Actually, it was quite good. He followed this up with a glass of orange juice and some more aspirin. I gradually drifted off as he sat silent by the bed.
I woke next morning feeling somewhat better. I got out of bed and walked quite firmly to the bathroom. I removed the blood soaked tampon, showered, and put on another tampon. I returned to the bedroom and put on a light dress, omitting panties because of the danger of more blood.
Entering the kitchen, I found it empty, but breakfast had been laid out for me. As I ate, Hugh came in from the garden. "Just been putting the garbage out. How do you feel?" "A lot better," I answered, and managed a reassuring smile. "Is there anything you want me to do?" he asked. "What I would appreciate is a day of peace and quiet," I replied. The place is pretty clean and tidy, so no vacuuming or other superfluous noises, please." I managed another smile just to show I wasn't being nasty. "Okay," he said.
I went back to bed until lunchtime, then I got up to prepare the meal. I found Hugh had already done this. We ate in silence, and for the rest of the afternoon, I dozed on and off in the family room.
In the late afternoon, while Hugh was once more acting the house son preparing the evening meal, I went to the bathroom and inspected the tampon. To my relief, there was no more blood. Not bothering with another one, I went to the bedroom and put panties on.
As we ate the meal Hugh said, "Mother, we must talk about what happened. I hurt you terribly, and I don't think I shall ever forgive myself for that." "Come on, Hugh," I said through a mouthful of rather well cooked steak, "Who was it that asked who? Who was it that insisted you were going to get into me? You've nothing to be guilty about."