22nd Century Mother

Ahh, don’t you think it’s just lovely to be living right now?

Lighting fast internet and computers to match, all the information you could wish for few clicks away, TV series and movies on demand, then the smartphones, laptops, tablets, all with more memory than you could use, food, ahh, the food… You don’t even have to make it on your own, you can order it, even online if you so desire! It’s something every woman – especially a pregnant woman, appreciates.

And last, but not least, perhaps the biggest worry of most parents… easy access to porn. It’s everywhere, and no matter what you do you can’t stop your kids from seeing it. Seriously.

Some parents have tried doing that, by installing numerous programs, others by going a step further and finding one of those rare internet providers that filter porn by default, but what they don’t realize is how utterly, completely pointless it actually is. Anyone at least a bit tech-savvy could easily find a proxy to get around it, and visit whatever site they want. Sure, there are some programs that can block any site that’s knowingly xxx-related and most, if not all proxy sites – for the sake of the argument, let’s say they can block all proxy sites – but, all they would need to do is find a forum or a site that’s dedicated to other things yet has such content, and there you go! Naked ladies everywhere. Or men! No judging.

Then, there’s the ultimate ‘solution’, a monitoring software that records all activity – everything they type in, visit, all the messages they receive or send, who they talk to, everything – so the parents can watch over them. *Shudders*. No, no, it’s not creepy at all, Mr. and Mrs. I-control-my-childrens-lives. But, eh, whatever, who am I to judge?

Aren’t we forgetting something, though? Smart phones! Hell, even normal mobile phones… two clicks, three at most, and there you are, once again! Albeit, there are those parents that don’t allow their children to have any kind of phones. No TV after nine either, I assume, because that’s ‘bed time’ and when ‘adult programs’ start. That is if they allow them to watch TV at all. They might as well home-school their kids by that point, ’cause they’ve already done their utmost to destroy them socially. I haven’t even gotten to Internet Cafes, magazines, and the rest – like borrowing someone else’s phone, or tampering with ‘tamper proof’ monitoring software. I don’t need to, because the point stays the same: if they want to see something, they’ll find a way to see it.

But this story isn’t really about porn, and ways to get around filters and whatnot. It’s about being a parent in the 21st century.

It was May 23rd, and it was one of those days. One of those days when I just know something odd will happen. Like finding shitty boxers hidden away under our bed, because my husband’s parents haven’t taught him that ‘wishing them away’ doesn’t equal washing. *Ugh* Or, perhaps a fleshlight – yep, you’ve read it right – all sticky and dirty, as if he was leaving it as a present to me, to remind me what I was missing.

It was neither. And I’ve looked! Inside my husband’s drawers, our closet, and with some trouble, under our bed – nothing.

I was both honestly surprised and relieved, I’ve had enough of cleaning his boxers until the point where they are actually washable in a machine. Next time, he’d find them under his pillow. Then, with a laundry basket in my hands, I headed for my son’s room. I tried to come up with something that I would actually be surprised to find.

A girl in his room that climbed through the window? It wouldn’t be a surprise after the first time, but I doubt she’ll be back again, not through the window anyway. I mean, plus one for the effort and creativity, but plus two for get the fuck out and use the door next time.

As I came up to his room, I noticed the door was slightly ajar. Regardless, I reached out to knock, and that is when I heard an unmistakable sound of grunting coming from inside his room.

Ah, of course. There’s also my favourite – and dreaded by most mothers – catching your kid masturbating.

I debated where or not I should look inside. Normally I wouldn’t, but I felt a little unsettled by his continued grunting. “Those aren’t the sounds someone makes when they masturbate, are they?” I wondered, but I only had my moans to compare it to, and not many of those as of lately. If he wasn’t masturbating, though, then what was he doing? My mind swirled with possibilities, none good – he could be laying on the floor, hurt! I didn’t want to jump to conclusions based only on the sounds he was making, but I had to check, especially if worst came to be. However, if it turned out he was masturbating, it wouldn’t be a big deal, I told myself.

After leaving the laundry basket in the hallway, I tip-toed to his door, then slid it a little more open before poking my head inside. I couldn’t believe my eyes what I was seeing. I stifled a gasp as I watched him; he was laying on his bed with his top off and pants pulled down around his knees, holding in his hands what was undoubtedly my husband’s fleshlight, and trying, but struggling, to jam his erect penis into it.

I hid behind the door and stood there for a moment. Okay, *that* surprised me. My heart was fluttering, and I was in shock by what I had just witnessed. Seriously, I mean, come on! He was born in ’97! That’d make him… 18?! Okay, I knew how to count, but at the time it was just so… shocking.

“A fleshlight!” I thought in disbelief. I didn’t see a dildo until I was 21 and married to my husband, by which time I’ve already seen a real life penis, but until then, hell, the closest I came to a dildo was a cucumber, and that was in a bathroom when everyone was sleeping! And even then, I got caught by my mother, and spanked until I couldn’t sit on my ass. But now, as a parent in the 21st century, it was expected of me to sit him down and… talk to him?! I was all for it, really, but… wow. The world certainly wasn’t like it used to be.

Most mothers by now would be sitting beside their beds, calling their husbands. “We have a situation,” they’d whisper, as if somehow their son could hear them from all the way across the hall, while he was probably still busy jackin’ it, thinking of that girl with a nice ass – or a man. Whatever.

But, not me. My husband, Will, was at work, and if I gave him a call I knew the answer I’d get:

“I thought we agreed you would deal with it?” Unless he wondered first as to why the hell I didn’t talk to him about that stuff years ago.

You might think by now my husband is not very supportive, especially with me being five months along with our second child, but he is, I assure you! When our son was born, he became a stay-at-home dad, while I returned to work. And during those first couple of years, he had changed more diapers, and lulled him to sleep more times than I ever had.

Anyhow, it actually started as a joke at first when our son was still a baby; Will teased me that since he was the one taking care of Kevin all the time, it’d be up to me to explain things to him and answer any questions he had, as he grew and became more curious. We had a nice laugh about it, but after I conversed with other mothers about how they dealt – or planned to – with such and similar matters, I told my husband that when the time came, I’d sit Kevin down and talk with him about it. I was determined to be one of those ‘cool’, chill moms.

And I was planning to. I waited for the perfect moment, perhaps, after finding his cum-stained underwear, socks, or anything else of that sort, as a sign that he was becoming interested in such things. But as time passed by and that moment never came, I put it off more and more, until the point when I forgot about it.

“Did that make me a bad mother?” I wondered, feeling guilty for not educating him like I should have.

“Damn it!” he cursed.

I poked my head inside once again, and saw the fleshlight laying beside him, while he stroked his penis with two of his fingers, trying to keep it hard. I moved back. It was obvious he didn’t know what he was doing. After thinking about it for a moment, I decided I had to set things straight. If there ever was a time for that talk, it was definitely now.

Picking up the laundry basket, I headed to my room, while forming a plan inside my head. After setting it down on the bed, I went through my bedside drawer and took a small tube of lube, and a dildo. “Yes,” I thought. I was going to demonstrate to him how to use the fleshlight properly, with a little help of my dildo. “Surely that’s better than just talking about it?”

Back at his door, I took a deep breath, and after a short succession of knocks I walked in, my cheeks turning a soft shade of red, acting ever confident, yet secretly anxious.

“Mom!” he gasped, his hands clinging to the bed sheet, which he somehow managed to pull all the way up to his chin before I came inside. “W-what do you want?” he asked.

Without saying a word, I walked up to his bed, then sat down beside him. He scooted a little away. “Kevin, do you remember how we never had a talk about sex? Well, I think it’s time we had that talk.”

“That’s not something we need to talk about,” he said, trying to act calm, but panicking on the inside.

Then his eyes settled on my hands, and as he was about to ask what I was holding, I said, “Honey,” then, after taking a deep breath, I continued, “I was just passing by, gathering clothes to put in the machine, and I’ve seen you trying to use the fleshlight.”

His eyes bugged out, and all he could seem to utter was incomprehensible nonsense, terrified that I caught him. Trying to reassure him, I placed a hand on his thigh; he instantly tensed up, but didn’t pull away.

“It’s okay,” I said. “You’re not in any trouble, and I promise I won’t tell your dad you’ve borrowed his flashlight. However, on a related note… could you please hand it to me, so I can demonstrate to you how to use it properly?”

As my words sank in, he sighed in relief, and with some hesitation pulled out the fleshlight from under the bed sheet, then handed it to me.