Growing up, when the first sexual desires stirred in him, they burned for the exotic. The far away. The non-familiar. But now that he was 18, about to go to college, and still a virgin, the sexual tension had piled to immense, pounding heights. The stakes had become so high. He was afraid to approach other people. He didn’t know how to make the plunge. The possibility of rejection felt too immense. Unsurvivable.
He had started to think about, and crave, nurturing. To be taught. Gently. Lovingly. But no girl would to do that. Girls were too young and inexperienced. Older women were tantalizing for that reason. And increasingly, thoughts had been drawn to his mother.
His mother protected him and evoked a deep, primal familiarity. These emotions drew him to her, but some barrier ultimately repulsed him sexually. Yet, she would understand him best, wouldn’t she? She would take that very special care.
The week prior had tortured him with nonstop arousal. His hormones must have been gushing through his bloodstream. He knew it was natural at his age, but the knowledge didn’t cure all that frustrated euphoria. His mother had caught him hiding his persistent erection throbbing against his sweatpants. The initial glimmer of shock on her face had quickly melted to sympathy, however. Regardless, he had taken to wearing jeans in the house.