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Discovering my mom’s p******.
I was maybe 13-14 and one day I am playing in the basement and we had this clothes chute from the bathroom and the door was on a spring and went BAM whenever anyone threw something in it.
So I just happened to be right there and hear the BAM and this pair of black p****** lands right next to me. I can hear the shower come on so I know my mom is in the shower. These p****** have this whiteish stuff on them and are wet. I looked at them wondering what is this.
I picked them up and touched the stuff and it’s kinda slippery and wet, and there is this smell. I smelled them and it hit me like a bolt of lightning. Just touching my moms p****** made my c*** kind of stiff and as soon as that smell hit me I was rock hard. I knew instinctively what was going to happen next. I was already sitting on the floor with a b**** and my moms p****** right the by my face. My tongue licked that juice and at the same time I was pumping my c***. I lasted about 7 seconds and blew a load of c** all over myself. The first spurt actually hit me on the chin and all over my shirt. In that 7 seconds I had the crotch in my mouth sucking them clean.
After that any time my mom or sister went into the bathroom I was running into the basement and there were times I actually caught those p****** before they even hit the dirty clothes pile. Like right from their hands to mine. They were still warm. I spent most of my youth camped out by that clothes chute, until that fateful day

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Living with aunt…..i found out why special surprise the next evening. That morning she again welcomed me to the shower and allowed me to touch myself. But when i got close to finishing she inatructed me to stop and to dry off and get out of the shower. Very frustrating and i pouted some and pleaded, and she was very angry. I ended up right back where i had been a couple of days ago, getting the hairbrush on my cheeks and thighs for a protracted time. She did not use the belt but after i was sobbing and pleading again she snapped at me, that this was why i needed to be cured of my addiction, i whined the minute i did not get to enjoy my body. While i did not get the belt, after reducing me to sobbing and begging, she turned the brush around and i got several agonizing minutes of the coarse bristles on my already burning backside. I was trembling and hurting and was nearly dragged back to the shower, ordered to stand there letting cold water spray on my aching backside and then facing it until my g e nit als were shrunken to near invisibility. I was a wrecked blubbering pathetic mess, and as she held me afterwards she again stressed that my behavior is what made me weak and she wanted to be proud of me for good behavior. She said she was proud of me for accepting her direcrion and punishment but she wanted me to be well behaved and not self destructive to begin with. She said these things in a loving way but there was no mistaking her when she said that punishments could be far worse than they had been. That she did not want me to force her to be that harsh but that it was up to me whether it happened.

At bedtime that day she instructed me to lay on my stomach, and she spanked me by hand, stinging and making me tear up but nothing like the hairbrush. As i lay there shivering and sniffling, she left and came back with wet towels to lay on my cheeks and backs of thighs to ease the pain. Once i was calmed down, she had me turn to spoon me and her hands gently stroked my skin. Dangerously close to my groin and arousing me but she said that just as punishment could get worse, the pleasure could get better if i behaved. So i vowed to myself to try harder to behave, because while i knew she loved me, i was also now frightened of her.

The next morning began a new morning ritual. She showered with me and let me play with myself but to reinforce her rule over me, every shower began with a standing light spanking by her hand, then bathing and allowing me to self pleasure, and then another standing shower spanking, this time with her hairbrush. As each day after day started this way, mas tu rba tion started becoming something that was associates with her control and the discipline, and my urges were dropping quickly. I began to see the morning showers as a duty or exercise in self discipline rather than a pleasure.

This was also when i had to make a daily report phone call to my mother by my aunt,’s direction, reporting whether i had disobeyed and confirming i was being spanked proactively. My mother was skeptical at first so thwt call i had to stay on the phone with my mother so she coulr hear the soanking and my crying as i was bent bare bottomed over the back or a living room char as i knelt on it.

The next door sisters/landlords, my aunt’s lifelong lovers, also began to drop in regularly and my aunt required me to report to them as well. My aunt started a calendar to track how often i had urges or waa allowed to and able to successfully play with myself.

To be continued.