Virginia Ryder: Taboo Times Ten

She'd had me while she was still in high school, so she was still only a youthful 27-years-old. But she'd managed to finish school, get in two years of college, and get a great job as an Executive Assistant for a big CPA firm.

Meaning we did all right for a single parent home. That's what she always told me, anyway,

The other typical thing when I woke up was I had what the other boys called 'morning wood,' a stiff dick that poked the front of my lightweight pajamas into a tent. As usual, it was so hard it was almost painful, throbbing against my pajamas like that.

So I slid my skinny dick out into the open and started pulling on it, masturbating, my hand moving quickly up and down.

“Billy, it's time to get up,” she called out again. “You know the rule.”

Yes, I did.

But I also knew I had a couple of more minutes. So I started masturbating even faster. It felt really good, as it should, and I was confident that I could ejaculate really fast.

“ Now, Billy,” she called, and I knew I was out of time. Timing, after all, was everything. Or so my mom said. “I don't want to be late for work.”

So I was standing beside the kitchen table in 15 seconds flat.

My slender blonde mother smiled at me as she poured her hot coffee into her large plastic travel mug, so she could drink it on her drive to work.

“Sorry, mom,” I shrugged. “I was sleeping so good, it was hard to get up.”

“You're definitely up now, dear,” she said with a little grin, her fingers encircling my rigid penis. I'd come to the table with it still sticking out of my pajamas. She continued what I'd started, jacking me off. “And you're so hard this morning.”

I nodded.

“I started upstairs,” I told her. “So I wouldn't make you late for work.”

“You're so thoughtful.”

Using a combination of her warm hand and her mouth, she rapidly got me to the brink of my morning ejaculation. And then-as I leaned over the table-she aimed my throbbing 11-year-old dick into her large travel mug so that my cum spurted explosively, and many thrilling times, into her coffee.

“Uhhh, that always feels so great!” I gasped, as I came. “No wonder I have a boner every morning.”

It came out as fast as ever, in opaque whitish jets, only the merest splatter getting on the rim of her travel mug. My mom squeezed the last couple of drops of my semen into her Columbian blend, quickly licked the sticky excess off the edge of her mug, and then securely put the top on.

“You're a very good son,” she told me, as she always did.

It was our little joke.

Because I was a very good son. And every morning, I was even the cream in her coffee.