I didn't think my mom was home so I got the jar of Vaseline from the medicine cabinet and headed for my room. In a few minutes I had an erection, was pulling it back and forth and was so engrossed with the thought that any second a sticky white juice was going to squirt out with the desired tingling sensation that I didn't hear my mom open the door. It couldn't have been more than a second or so but when I turned around with my penis spitting uncontrollably and saw my mom and my heart stopped; I quit breathing.
"MOM!"
She said, "Vaseline?" and closed the door behind her.
I hid out for two hours with my shame before I had the nerve to venture out. The door to my mother's room was open and she was lying on the bed clad in a terrycloth robe. I tapped on the door.
"Mom?"
"Yes Dear? Come in." She patted the bed beside her.
"Here. Lie down."
"Mom, I don't know what to say. I'm really embarrassed."
"Show me."
"What? My penis?"
"Yes, you used to show me all the time. You always wanted me to make sure it was alright. Do you remember?"
"Yeah, but that was a long time ago."
"Show me. Take off your jeans and lie beside me."
I took off my jeans and jockey shorts and sat on the bed.
"Lie back here."
Her voice was soothing and gentle and as I reclined back on the pillow she started to massage my testicles. It was a wonderful feeling and after a few minutes she gripped my penis in her hand and squeezed. It jumped in size and at which point she pulled her robe aside and revealed a tremendous mound of springy pubic hair. I started getting really scared when she put my hand on it. My erection went down and I started trembling.
She guided my hand between her legs and I felt the wet inner tissues. She was soft and gentle as she gave me her breast.
"Do you remember this?"
I sucked on her hard nipple and felt immediately at ease; my erection returned and she coaxed me on top of her. She held my penis and guided it to her. At the moment of entry the uncontrollable pulsing started and she squeezed it gently until the pulsing stopped. I collapsed on top of her and cried.
"It's alright Dear. Just try and relax a bit."
"Is there something wrong with me?"
"Not that I can see. It just takes a little bit of practice and learning. I'm sorry I haven't taught you more. Let's start over. I'll get a damp cloth and clean you up."
It was warm and felt good as she wrapped the cloth around my penis, gently wiping away the sticky fluid.
"I would say you've grown some since I last did this. Ten years ago when you were five?"
"About that."
She continued until the warmth left the rag after which she wiped the glistening pearls from her own pubic hair. She returned to caressing my penis and I worked up the nerve to explore the wetness between her legs. It was slippery and had a sweet taste when I put a finger to my lips. My penis was hard again and we started over.
"Just relax. If you start to come let me know and pull out. I'll squeeze the head and you'll stop. We'll have tiger trained before you know it."
I rolled on top of her and she guided tiger to the wet spot between her legs. It slipped in and I could feel a strong contraction like she was trying to hold me from pulling it out.
"Okay Dear, in and out slowly. When you've pulled it out far enough I'll squeeze and you push it in again."
"It's wonderful. I'm going to come again!"
"Pull it out."
I pulled it out and she squeezed the head so hard it hurt. After a few seconds she put it back and I started again. A few pumps later I thought I was going to come again and this time she squeezed the head with both hands for about ten seconds.
"Okay Dear, slip it back in and hold it as long as you can."
I don't know what happened, but I felt in control and began to get a rhythm that mom followed with little sounds of ugh-ugh.
She came quickly after that and moaned as she contracted her muscles like a milking machine. I came soon after in urgent pulses before collapsing on top of her again.
We sat down and talked about what we had done. She offered me Champagne and the bubbles made me talk. We had been best friends for years. She had never made a serious effort to hide herself and I did remember running to her with every pee-pee problem I had. She would look at it, hold it and tell me things were just fine. Long after I was off breast milk I would lie next to her when she pretended to sleep and rub her breasts. Sometimes if they weren't covered I would suck a nipple and feel it swell up and get hard. She always pretended to awaken slowly, giving me plenty of time to scamper off.
There were no men in her life and she made no excuses that she had never been married. She was thirty-three, beautiful, smart and very rich, which always made me wonder why she worked for the World Union.
I asked her and she told me she would tell me later. In the mean time I gained sexual prowess under her exacting tutelage and the sexual experiences we shared were a wonderful part of life. I tried to go down on her once but she told me it was something we couldn't do. I told her I needed to and it's the first time she got short with me. "You're just going to have to suck your finger until you have a girlfriend."
"A girlfriend? I'm not going to have a girlfriend."
"Of course you will and before you start wiggling tiger at her I want to meet her and have a blood test. It's nonnegotiable. Do you understand that?"
My mother was thirty-five, I turned eighteen.
We drank beer from frosted glasses and she told me the story.
She and a friend had hanged a lady about a year before I was born; put her on a horse and hanged her. I asked the obvious questions. Was she wanted for murder? Why did she do it? Did she use to be a lesbian? The whole story came out. When Margaret had given her a hundred-thousand dollars she wondered if it was partly to keep her quiet, but it wasn't long before she realized Margaret loved her and she felt sincerely close. The money soon turned into two million dollars with the purchase of a penny stock that went wild.
She thought a lot about the hanging and the more she thought about it the more the memory came back as pleasurable. It got more vivid and more pleasurable. She remembered her conversation with Margaret about there being more to the hanging than met the eye and decided to renew the acquaintance.
She was invited to the large Wyoming ranch, survived a month of celebration where one day just met the next with constant Bar-B-queue's, champagne and Martini's with olives. Margaret showed her some videos and gave her the education she wanted and she left the ranch ten months later with her one month old son.
A year later she got a strange questionnaire by certified mail with no return address, which she completed and promptly returned. Six months later a similar one arrived, which she gave the same prompt attention as the first. Two years went by and she received a certified letter asking if she was available for an interview in Switzerland. Her response to answers during the interview prompted a trip to the Philippines where she witnessed the hanging of six men and six women over a three-day period. She flew home and heard nothing more for almost a year.
The door-bell rang and Rachel answered to find a man dressed in a World Union uniform. He asked her for identification before handing her a plain Manila envelope. The uniformed man said he would wait for an answer. Rachel read the form. It was a request for Rachel to perform the executions of two persons guilty of crimes against the Union. The method of execution would be hanging and she would be paid sixteen hundred dollars plus expenses.
Paid? She never dreamed she would be paid and she had no idea why she was contacted to begin with. She knew it wasn't fate and she knew, someday she'd find out.
Ten days later Rachel acted as executioner for two men caught with ten kilos of raw opium. It was a long drop hanging and both men hung together. It was flawless in performance and she was asked to stay in the islands for another week to hang six women who were being sent from the north.
Rachel decided to do the hangings one at a time, and a few minutes apart so she could make adjustments if needed. She would hood the women so they would not be able to see the women hanged before them. Rachel would visit their cells tonight, size them up and give them an idea of what would happen.
They were a strange bunch, lot's of makeup and overdressed in tight silk skirts, lace bras and high heels. All were in the one-hundred-thirty to fifty-pound range, which would mean drops of about eight feet if she averaged. She explained to them that hanging was quick and painless and to make it easier she would put hoods over their heads so they wouldn't have to see the nooses. The only response was silence.
Rachel stayed up all night and at six a.m. the nooses were ready and waiting over the trap doors. Rachel was standing with the first noose in hand when Jennifer was brought in. She wasted no time placing it over the hood a
