Mom NEVER gave me "the sex talk", but over my childhood she provided me lessons of another sort.

When I was three years old mom warned me about the nasty teenage girls who like to take off little boys pants and do things to their privates. Had no idea what those things were, but the mere thought of it was scary. A year or so later mom would invite me into bed between her and dad, but I didn't know why. She would cuddle close to me, while dad always turned away on the far edge of the bed. I could tell that he didn't like it.

Mom always wore a thin house dress at home, never pants or panties for that manner. We were by no mean nudists, but I saw her naked many times, likely more times than she saw me nude, so that dark hair below her belly button always fascinated me. One time I was five and she was getting ready to dress so I impulsively wrapped my arms around her and kissed her on her bare bottom, saying "I love you, mommy!" Every one who heard the story at the time thought it was adorable.

At seven I was worried one morning because my "dink" was missing, somehow replaced by the long stiff thing. I was scared, so ran to mom and dropped my pajamas. She looked down at me and smiled "Nothing is wrong, you are my good boy, it will be back to a pee-pee soon enough." But as she smiled and stared it stayed that way.

A couple years later I overheard some moms at a school event talk about one of their kids who had run naked into their living room full of adults. Suddenly my dink felt warm and it started to grow. Even though I didn't know what sex was, I suddenly realized that nakedness, even the talk of it is what made my pee-pee turn longer and stiff.

Not that I had much experience of nakedness, on a couple occasions at recess a slightly older girl (not the same one each time) and I ended up alone and playing "show me". They so loved having me look at their smooth front crack, one even got me to run my fingers over it. But it didn't do anything to me pee-pee, it stayed regular. Butts was where it was at! And when they would face away and show their bottoms, that is when my pee-pee turned into a dick. Yes, my vocabulary was growing on the school grounds.

At ten I walked into the house as mom was laying face down on the couch reading. Her legs were slightly apart, and thanks to that thin fabric in the days before downy or febreeze her hem (no slip) ran up to the top of her thighs. There was her black hair patch fully exposed to my view, separated into two parts with something tantalizingly beautiful in the middle. There it was, this complicated pink and peach colored groove with bits of skin and funny shapes staring back at me. I stood there entranced.

"You are letting in a draft. Close the door!"

Mom scooted down, rolled over, and stopped mid-motion with her legs spread apart. I could not take my eyes off her pussy (more vocabulary lessons paying off) which had some dampness, not pee, maybe not sweat either being evident. After a few seconds, I looked up at her eyes, she smiled back at me and simply said "Oops".

A few months later mom, who was a nurse, called me into her bedroom and asked me to take down my pants. She was holding a tube of some lotion or medicine, I didn't know which. "Let me put this salve on your penis, as boys get older there is a chance that you can get an infection near the end of it, and it can hurt." She squirted some of the lotion on her hand and gently grasped my dink. The warmth of her hands overcame the cold feel of the salve and, as she ran it all over me privates it started to grow longer and harder, with this very pleasant warm and safe feeling overcoming me. Within a minute or so I had a boner (more vocabulary growth)so mom made one last gentle encircling squeeze just below the head. "See, it is all fine, but it was important that I checked. And you can do this yourself anytime you want. Tell me if anything changes."

I was finding myself sometimes getting hard around mom, as dad was gone most of the year so we had lots of alone time, with us sleeping in the same bed much of the time. Never had the nerve to touch or snuggle, but one day the cat was lying on her lap as she sat on the couch so I came up to pet the kitty, mumbled and fumbled sliding my hands under the cat while I pressed the back of my fingers against her. I could feel the hairs through the thin polyester house dress, amazed at how coarse they were, but as my fingers slid along the knuckles were now pressing into a soft and yielding area. After half a minute of moving my knuckles back and forth pretending I was petting the cat from below, mom gently but firmly grasped hold of my wrist. We locked eyes for a few seconds, I pushed a little more against the yielding spot, then she said "I have to get up" and walked to her bedroom, closing the door behind her.

Several weeks later she left next to my bed a copy of "Peyton Place", which I gleefully read that night. As I read the good parts, I got that warm and safe feeling as my penis became erect. As it strained against my undershorts, I moved it around, trying for a more comfortable position, not even thinking of opening my fly. I mean you do that when you are going to pee, right? Suddenly this tremendous warmth ran through me as I felt and saw the liquid from my first orgasm pulse through the tent at the front of my unders. Thought I was going to die.

Many decades later mom had slipped and fallen at home and needed my help to get herself on the toilet as she had wet herself while on the floor. I steadied her as she finished peeing, then at her request wiped her front. Those hairs were sparser but just as black as I had remembered 60 years earlier, and felt just the same under my fingers.

"You sure were a horn dog as a little boy, but you have all these girl friends now, so wiping me shouldn't be a problem.

No, it wasn't.