Billy looked out the train window at the two people who had been the central figures in his young life. The Baylors had been Father and Mother to him since he was born, and he felt a strange pang of emptiness in his heart as he watched them waving goodbye as the train started to move out of the station.
Ethel and Bert Baylor were both crying, and tears formed in Billy's eyes as they disappeared from his view. But in a few moments he composed himself and turned his thoughts to the new life he faced with his natural mother. It was as if he were launching into a new and exciting adventure, and he felt as if he had suddenly become a man, ready to tackle life.
His real mother and a sister! A new home. A new life! He wondered if his mother were as beautiful as he imagined her. He had asked Ma Baylor a hundred times about her – what she looked like, what kind of personality she had, and a hundred other details about the mother he'd never met. He was sure she would be beautiful, soft and kind, an angel on earth. Ma Baylor hadn't told him much except that his mother had dark hair and was petite and pretty, because that was about all the Baylors really knew about Laura Moore.
But Billy had conjured up an image of his mother, that made her a shining, vivacious, lovable creature. He had always dreamed of the day when he would meet her, and now it was here. He had thought of her wishfully every night, after he and Ma Baylor had had that nasty scene.
The sandy-haired thirteen-year-old stared at the scenery flashing by as the train picked up speed, and his mind lapsed back to the Saturday it had happened. Ma Baylor had gone shopping and Pa Baylor had gone to a ballgame. Billy was in the bathroom playing his new game – the game that had almost overnight become his favorite pastime. It felt so good when he played with himself, so good that he saw no reason not to do it often. And though he felt a vague guilt afterwards, he pushed it aside, for he felt too good while he was doing it to ever give it up.
The boys at school had made jokes about his "jerking off", but they didn't make sense to Billy. What it had to do with "fucking" and "balling" and "screwing chicks", he was not sure. He wanted to know, however, and he sensed that someday he would. Pa Baylor had taught him sternly that he was to respect all women and never do anything to a girl that she didn't want him to. He never did go into details as to what this vague "doing something to a girl" was, and Billy had spent many a long hour wondering just what could be done to a girl that she might not like. And – as often as he could, he experimented with his new game – usually in the bathroom, but often while he was in bed, late at night.
This Saturday, though, he hadn't bothered to lock the bathroom door, for he was positive his foster parents would be out for some time. He remembered how good it felt to take his soft young cock into his hand and caress it until it grew rigid, then rub his hand up and down as the delicious friction sent wonderful sensations through the slender shaft and upward into his whole body. Faster and faster his hand moved, his breath coming hard as he approached that magical moment, and his eyes hazed over with pleasure and lust as his mind filled with the joy that was emanating from his loins.
He was possessed by a need to experience that burning, all-encompassing sensation of fulfillment as his brow broke out in beads of sweat. The images in his mind took shape and became a woman's breasts, a soft body, an arm that hugged him close in love and a voice whispered in his ear – the voice of the tall, willowy angel who visited him every night in his dreams.
Sometimes, he would know afterwards that it had been his mother, but now, as he worked frantically to cum, he did not try to match the woman's body to any living creature. But as he felt the sperm begin to bubble up inside his balls and force upward, he murmured pathetically, "Oh, Mommy… Mommy, darling." He was not even aware that he was speaking aloud as he exploded into that delicious world where his body became a living flame of lust.
It was at this precise moment, as the milk white semen shot from his penis to cover his hand, that Ma Baylor entered the bathroom. Her face went white, then red with anger as Billy awkwardly tried to stuff his still-hard penis back inside his cum-smeared pants.
She had marched him into the living room and had given him a stern lecture on the evils of sin – which she considered masturbation to be – and the dire consequences he would suffer if he continued to "play with himself". She had warned that his growth would be stunted, that he would not be able to have children when he married, and that he might go crazy at any moment from his shameful "self-abuse".
Billy had been terrified, but not terrified enough to prevent him from enjoying the forbidden pleasure once again only a few hours later. But it had bothered him immensely, and took a little bit of the excitement and joy from the act, as his mind wrestled with the possibilities of disaster as opposed to the exquisite pleasure he felt. As the days passed, Billy became defiant in his masturbation, and he felt a strange power as he played with his cock, as if he had won a great battle with Ma Baylor.
But now, all that was past. He would no longer have to sneak around under Ma Baylor's suspicious eyes, or listen to her continuing warnings about playing with himself. No one would barge into his bedroom trying to catch him in the act, or forbid him to lock the bathroom door – for he would be loved by his real mother who would treat him like a man.
He would soon be where he belonged, in his own home, with his real mother and sister, and free to do at least as he wished with his own body.
As he anticipated this new and wonderful world, Billy began to doze off, and he was mildly surprised to find that just before he went to sleep, his cock was stiff and erect!