I tightened my grip on my cock and jacked hard as I shifted the other hand to my balls, pulling and twisting them. The stimulation in all three places at once was a trifecta of fucking awesome.
I braced one foot on the bed, jacking myself while thrusting my hips and clenching tight around the vibrator, intensifying the pressure inside me. Within seconds the orgasm had overtaken me from the tips of my toes to the top of my head. Fucking up into my fist, I grunted with each thrust, pumping stripe after stripe of cum out onto my belly and chest.
I’d come so hard that the vibrations from the stimulator went from oh my God tooh my Godin about two seconds flat. Gripping the toy, I yanked it out and then stifled a yell.Fucking ouch.
I couldn’t wait to recover so I could do it again. And again. Everything was so intense that I needed a minute for my brain to unscramble.
“Augustus?”
Sonofabitch.
If there was something no one ever wanted to hear right after they’d come their brains out, it was the sound of their mother letting herself into their apartment. Mom and I had talked about this before, but apparently she had not fully understood.
“Are you okay? Where are you?”
Groaning, I shoved the toy and bottle of lube under my pillow and, completely dizzy, I hopped into my pajama pants, pulling on a long T-shirt to covereverythingthat was happening with my body.
“Momma?” I said, stepping out into my hallway. Having learned nothing fromThere’s Something About Mary, I ran a hand through my hair.
“Oh, there you are. Are you being a lazy butt and sleeping in?”
As embarrassed as I was to nearly be caught self-pleasuring in the gayest way possible, her words didn’t sit right. I’d never been lazy a day in my life, working full time while I put myself through college, then getting the teaching job while still helping out with the family business. “It’s my day off, Momma,” I said, bunching my jaw.
“Well, no reason to get an attitude with me. I was just checking in on you since I hadn’t heard from you today.”
“Becauseit’s my day off.”
“You and I are more than coworkers, you know.”
“I do know that. Do you?”
I honestly couldn’t believe that had fallen out of my mouth. The way her eyes practically eviscerated me, I didn’t think she believed it, either.
“Well, I’ll leave your breakfast here,” she said, putting a hand-wrapped breakfast sandwich on the table.
Her cooking was always the best, but…
“I’m sorry, Momma. But we’ve talked about you letting yourself in like this, and I was”—I felt terrible about lying to her, but I was definitely not going to tell her what I’d actually been doing—“dead asleep, and you scared the shit out of me.”
“Watch your mouth there, Junior. And excuse me for trying to take care of you.”
“Momma, I’m almost thirty, as you so frequently like to point out. I can sleep in, and I can set boundaries around when you’re allowed to let yourself into my place, which is next to never.”
“Boundaries? Is that one of those things you picked up at college?” she asked, putting her hand on her hip.
“As a matter of fact, yes. Speaking of which, since you’re here, let’s go ahead and talk about my schedule for the upcoming school year.”
The curl of her lip told me her opinion on the matter. “They don’t pay you enough.”
“That is true, but the pay isn’t why I’m doing it, Momma. While I appreciate the extra income from working at the shop, I also need time off. I don’t think you realize how much work goes into creating the curriculum, and most of that happens after school hours. So I can only help out one or two evenings a week, and my Saturdays are booked with volunteer work. I might have time on Sundays occasionally, but we’ll have to see how that goes.”
“‘See how that goes’? After everything, you’re gonna leave us in the lurch?”
“Momma, I’ve been telling you and Dad for the last year that you needed to find someone else to pick up those shifts, but you’ve been ignoring me. I love you, but you ignoring me isn’t me leaving you in the lurch.”
“Well, seeing what a mess you’ve made of your life, in this dinky little apartment with no wife and no kids and a job that underpays you, no wonder we have to intervene.”
I took a step back, struck by the reality of the situation. I was, by all reasonable measures, a successful adult human. I lived on my own, paid my bills, worked hard, had a job I loved, and supported my family where I could. Yet my mother was acting as though I’d failed so spectacularly that she had no choice but to barge in and take over, regardless of what I had to say about the matter.
