Bath Time II

In the last confession I explained how my mother continued to bathe me long after it was probably acceptable. I was old enough to feel awkward and had started getting erections as her soapy washcloth, and then her bare hands, gently washed my ass and genitals as I stood for her in the tub. Then, on occasions when her robe seemed to accidentally slip open, I was treated to the sight of her naked breasts and hairy pussy, and she "washed" me until I came.

I was twelve when I really learned how to masturbate. My mother and my two younger brothers and I had moved in with my grandmother in England after my parents divorced.

The living conditions were somewhat cramped. My mother and youngest brother, who was just a toddler, slept in my grandmother's room. My brother and I shared a bed in what used to be my mother's room when she was a girl, and my grandmother slept on a roll-away cot downstairs in the front room.

There was no bathroom and only cold running water, so bath times were a metal tub in the living room. Because of all this, my grandmother suffered. She was last in line for the tub in the evenings, and as a result, she often skipped a bath and might go several days without bathing.

A little bit about my grandmother. She was Irish and moved to England as a girl. She had married young and had only my mother before my grandfather died. Since my mother married, my grandmother had lived alone and had become (understandably) a little set in her ways. She was a devout Catholic and resented my mother not being strictly religious like her.

My grandmother was stout and had big breasts, Unless she was planning to go out, she didn't wear a bra or stockings. She didn't shave her legs or her underarms and the sleeveless house dress she usually wore revealed the tufts of dark underarm hair and sometimes a glimpse of creamy white breast as she moved around the house. I found the musky scent of her body enticing and did what I could to get close to her just so I could catch a whiff of her underarms or even that special scent I imagined might waft up from between her thick, white thighs.

Before I realized it, I had started sexualizing her, and she became the stuff of my fantasies as I practiced masturbating in my room.

Inevitably, I was caught, and it was she who walked in on my one day.

I was naked, kneeling on the bed one late morning. My mother had gone out with my brothers in tow, and my grandmother was busy downstairs. Perhaps she thought I had gone with my mother, but in any case, my grandmother walked in on me while I was stroking my cock for all I was worth.

She stood there, wide-eyed for a moment, and then let out a "Jesus, Mary, and Joseph!" or some such exclamation, and she fled the room. I don't think I missed a stroke, and despite my intense shame and embarrassment--or more likely because of it--I reached a mind-bending orgasm.

Afterward, I was horrified at what had happened. I knew my grandmother would tell my mother and I would be in trouble. Or worse, whatever secretive thing my mother and I sometimes enjoyed might end. I sat trembling in shame and guilt for a long while before I risked going downstairs.

My grandmother dismissed me, obviously not knowing what to say. Over the next few days, I guessed that she had not told my mother, and I began fantasizing about her again.

Then, it occurred to me to walk in on her.

I got up early on a Saturday morning. I had to get up early because my grandmother was always the first up in the family. I went downstairs and entered the front room where she slept without knocking.

She was dressing and she whirled around and I saw her big bare breasts. She was wearing cotton underwear, and I saw a tuft of dark pubic hair that grew up her belly just over the waistband. Her breasts were the most beautiful creamy white, topped with pink nipples. Her breasts sagged, of course, but they were magnificent to me, even though they seemed to be flatter and not nearly as full as my mother's.

"Get out, you little devil!" she hissed at me, as she covered her breasts.

I backed out quickly and closed the door, my heart pounding.

Of course the vision was enough to power me to another intense orgasm the next time I jerked off. And that next time I jerked off was the first time I was rewarded with a spurt of cum.

A few nights later, I slipped out of bed in the early hours, leaving my little brother snoring peacefully, and made my way slowly down the old stairs, careful not to make them creak. I pushed my grandmother's door open softly and was rewarded by the scent of her. The light from the street shone through the curtains and illuminated her as she slept. I lowered my pajama bottoms and jerked off as I stood over her. I wanted to pull the blankets down to see her. Maybe she was naked, I thought. I dared not risk it, and instead, I stared at her sleeping face. The thought of shooting my jizz into her hair was enough to make me cum. The jet of cum shot out and landed mostly on the pillow, but some went into her hair.

I left, feeling exhilarated.

A few nights later I was brave enough to venture into her room again. This time, my lust got the better of me, and as I grew close to my climax, I reached out and drew the covers down. I got a glimpse of her form through the cotton nightgown she wore, before her eyes snapped open.

I froze. She was shocked and confused, but only for an instant. Before she had a chance to say anything, I fled the room and back upstairs. I crawled into bed cursing myself for being an idiot and awaited the chaos that would surly ensue. Instead, I was met with silence. I lay quaking with fear for a long time, and finally fell asleep.

A day passed without my grandmother saying anything to me. The day following that, my mother went shopping and, as usual, took my brothers with her while I declined. Alone with my grandmother, I bravely risked an encounter with her. Shaking, I approached her in the living room and tried to hug her. I was going to apologize, but I wasn't quite sure of my choice of words. Instead, she cuffed me violently upside the head and grabbed my arm.

She cursed me angrily with words I had never heard her use before, and as she did, she grabbed a hair brush and beat my ass and thighs with it. I nearly peed myself I was so scared, but at the same time, the scent of her enveloped me and her big breasts shook and danced against my head. I can't remember a word of what she said because I was so aroused. Her big breasts. The sight of her unshaven underarms. The beautiful aroma of her. The feel of her thick thighs as I grabbed on for dear life. It was wonderful.

And to complete it all, my mother chose that evening to wash me in her special way again. I stood in the tub during our private time and as she slowly gripped my hard cock, I stared at her naked breasts and hairy snatch. I shot a load for her and she was obviously surprised by it. As usual, she didn't seem to acknowledge any of what she was doing as a sex act. It all seemed so very normal.

But that was the last time my mother ever treated me to a special bath time.

My grandmother blocked the door and I was never able to visit her while she slept, and just a few weeks later, my mother revealed she was seeing someone and it had grown serious.

Not long after, my mother remarried and we moved away. She visited her mother every Saturday and I declined, not wishing to risk having my grandmother say anything in front of my mother and my new stepfather. Instead, as I turned thirteen, I chose to stay home alone and jerk off as much as I could, sniffing my mother's underwear.

A few, mostly uneventful years later, I moved back to the United States to live with my father.

And a new stepmother and three stepsisters.