We drove immediately over to the seamstress where Mom said, "I'll just wait here in the car. You go on in." I went into the shop, finding that it was owned by Koreans. There three women working at sewing machines; they looked like they may be grandmother, mother, and daughter based on their ages. The middle aged one greeted me as I handed her the paper from Dr. Vernon.
I told her, "Dr. Vernon sent me for a custom fitted supporter," as she was reading the paper. Looking at me she said, "One minute, please," then turned toward the other two women telling them something in Korean.
They both giggled as grandmother nodded and got up from her sewing machine.
Grandmother motioned to me to follow her saying, "You come this way. I fit you." In the back she motioned me to a little platform with a three-way mirror behind it. "You take of pant, I get pattern cloth," she said as she turned to a table and pawed through several piles of cloth.
I removed my cargo pants and stood there waiting. She turned toward me with a piece of cloth in her hand and when she looked at me, I saw her eyes fix momentarily on my penis and testicles at the hem of my boxers before looking me in the eyes and saying, "No, no, you need shorts off, too." I just mumbled, "Oh, okay," as I bent over and took off my shorts.
As I stood back up, grandmother eyeballed my penis and testicles saying, "Ahh, you big. We fix right up." She rolled a stool over on the floor to the edge of the platform and motioned me toward her.
"I use this to make pattern. We make supporter from soft cloth." She held the cloth up to my groin area, pressing it in on either side of my hanging equipment and pressing up from below my legs then began to make some chalk marks on the pattern cloth.
Her touch made me begin to engorge again and almost immediately, my penis was arching, still hanging down but out in front of my thighs. As my penis pushed her pattern cloth away from me, grandmother giggled and said, "Can't fit you with that. You go in bathroom and take care of it." She motioned toward a door on the other wall. "Right now?" I asked. "Yes, yes, you want supporter today, right?" she prodded.
I stepped off the platform and headed toward the door to the bathroom. It was small but clean and I shut the door behind me as I looked around. No lock on the door. Oh well, she knows I'm in here. Standing in front of the toilet, I began to stroke my hardening penis until it was about fully erect, standing a little higher than straight out horizontally from my abdomen. It felt like it may take me a few minutes to make it happen having just cum about a half hour ago. I tried to picture something in my mind to help me along and ended up fixed on the hand job that Dr.
Vernon had given me in the name of medical science. That seemed to be helping when I heard the bathroom door open to my left. I looked over and grandmother poked her head in asking, "How you doing?" "Okay, I guess," I replied.
Her head disappeared but the door remained open partway. In a moment, the door opened further, grandmother and mother were standing there. Grandmother said, "We watch, okay?" as mother nodded her head. All I could do was nod my head as the extra attention was pushing me quickly toward an orgasm. "Oh shit, here it comes," I thought as I continued to stroke while aiming toward the bowl as best as I could.
Four large ropes of semen shot from my penis in rapid succession followed by two smaller ones, and then a few dribbles. I continued to stroke slowly as the orgasm faded. "Ahh, good," I heard from the doorway. When I turned to look, all three of them were standing there, grandmother, mother, and daughter, nodding their heads in approval. Mother and daughter turned and walked away as grandmother stood there watching me milk the last few drops from my penis. It was completely flaccid now after its endeavors as I turned toward the door and grandmother.
"Okay?" I asked. "Yes, better," she replied. I followed her back to the platform where she made some more marks on the pattern cloth, measured my waist, and the distance from ly waist in front on my abdomen to my waist in back above my butt, the tape carefully placed to the right side of my penis and testicles.
"You wait here. Put on pants if you want, while I make supporter." I figured, "What the hell. It's not like they haven't seen me," so I just sat down in an old wooden swivel desk chair in just my T-shirt and socks, testicles laying on the cool wood of the chair seat, penis hanging slightly off the front of the seat. Passing the time looking around the room, I heard someone in front saying, "Come back here, we fit you Mrs.
Borman." Before I could cover up, mother and an older woman, probably in her late sixties rounded the corner. The older woman, tall and overweight stopped short when she saw me sitting there. She stared at my penis hanging off the front of the chair seat for a moment then regained her composure.
"Oh my. Are you here to get the hem taken up in that thing, young man?" she asked with a smile. "Custom fitted supporter, ma'am," I told her. "I can go out front and wait if you'd like." She seemed to consider that idea for a moment then said, "You can't go out front like that.
Besides, I kind of like the scenery and at my age I have no modesty left," as she stepped up on the platform and pulled her top off over her head. Her bra was huge, the back about four inches wide at the clasps. Reaching around behind her, she undid the multitude of clasps letting the bra fall off her shoulders.
Huge tits tumbled out. They were massive, hanging down below her waist. "And you think you've got problems, young man," she glanced my way. "Nothing to match a fat old lady like me." Mother was working on her with her measuring tape, measuring every which way and writing in a small notebook before having her lean over at the waist. Those huge udders hung down, way away from her body and the lady helped mother keep the tape measure in place to measure her overall size around her upper torso including the long trip toward the floor and back to travel down and back around those hanging fun bags.
Straightening back up, she looked toward me and saw that I had a partial erection. Instead of laying on and over the edge of the chair seat, my penis was sticking almost straight out, lying on the edge of the seat and poking out beyond like the end of a teeter-totter. "I'll take that as a compliment, young man," she said as she leaned over to collect those tits into the cups of her bra before straightening back up to fasten all the clasps in back.
After pulling her top on over her head, she stepped down off the platform and came over next to me. Patting me on the shoulder she said, "Good luck with that supporter, young man. They do very good work here." Then she turned and headed out toward the front of the store. Sitting there alone again, I was soon bored and my erection faded as the end of my penis hung down off the edge of the seat. After a while, grandmother returned with a supporter in her hand.
How the hell someone can whip up something like that so fast I have no idea. She handed it to me and said, "You try on." I stood up, penis and testicles swaying between my legs as I stepped into the support one foot at a time.
The sack part of the supporter looked rather large, but my equipment filled it up. As I was trying to figure out how to pack my penis into the sack, which way was most comfortable, grandmother was helping me, pulling gently on the sides of the soft material and actually moving my testicles around a bit. All packed in I straightened up and found that it was actually pretty comfortable. It felt odd to not have the weight of my penis and testicles tugging at me. Grandmother asked, "Fit good.
You like?" "Yes, it's very comfortable. Thank you," I told her. "I give you bill up front. You mail check," she told me as she walked toward the front of the store.
I pulled off the new supporter, penis and testicles swinging free and was just picking up my boxers when daughter appeared around the corner. With very little Asian accent she asked, "Does the supporter fit well?" "Yes, it does. It's very nice.
Do you want to see?" I asked. "No, that's okay. My grandmother does very good work. She can almost just look at a woman and make a bra that fits perfectly," she told me. "Both my mother and grandmother are very impressed by your size. Actually, I am, too. I've never seen anything like that." "Yeah, I guess I'm a bit of a freak show," I told her as I pulled on my boxers and arranged myself in them. "No, not a freak, just very big," she told me as I fastened the waist of my cargo pants and buckled my belt.
"You have a nice day," she finished before going into the bathroom and closing the door. I walked up front where grandmother handed me a bill and said, "Come back, three weeks, we check supporter." "Okay, thanks," I told her as headed out of the shop to the car.
"When do you get your supporter?" Mom asked as I got in the car. Raising the little bag in my hand I replied, "Got it already.
Here's the bill," handing her the bill from grandmother. Back home, Mom reminded me as we walked into the kitchen, "Don't forget doctor's orders, Bobby. Here," as she handed me the specimen cup. As I was leaving the kitchen, Vickie came in the other door asking, "What did the doctor say?" I motioned toward Mom as I left and headed to my room to flop on my bed.
Later that evening after dinner, I was lying on my bed listening to the radio when Mom came in. "Did you follow Doctor's orders? Here's a piece of paper we can record your output on," she said as she handed me a piece of paper.
"We?" I asked. "Well, I want to make sure you measure and record it accurately," she replied. "I'm not an idiot, Mom," I told her somewhat crossly. "Bobby, I'm your mother. Mothers have certain prerogatives," she told me. "I want it done right for the doctor. Have you collected any output that we need to record since we got home?" "No, Mom, I haven't," I replied.
"Well then we probably should," she replied. "They already collected a sample from me this morning at the doctor's office, Mom," I told her, conveniently omitting information about the load I deposited in the toilet at the seamstress.
"The doctor ordered 'at least daily' meaning one or more times, and she told me more than once would be better." "I didn't hear anyone say that," I said. "Dr. Vernon told me in the hallway, before the nurse and I came back into the room," Mom replied.
"She did?" "Yes, she did. So now might be a good time," Mom said, more like an order than a request. "Right now? Right here?" I asked. "You can't do it in the shower like you usually do, it would be hard to use the specimen cup in there and get an accurate reading," she said.
"So right here seems like a good, controlled place to do it." When she saw the look on my face she added, "What? You don't think I know what you do in those long showers?" "Whatever," I said as I laid there.
She walked over and shut my door before returning to my bedside saying, "Okay buster, right now. Pants off." "Mom," I pleaded. "Now, Bobby. It's not like I haven't seen you naked plenty of times," she told me. "But not jacking off," I replied as I pulled my pants and boxers down and off my feet, tossing them on the foot of the bed.
Then for good measure I pulled my T-shirt off over my head and tossed it on my pants and boxers. "Oh, wait a minute," she told me as she turned and went out in the hall, leaving my door open. While she was gone I saw Vickie walk by my door and glance in at me, lying there naked on my bed. When Mom returned she had a box of tissues in her hand as she closed the door behinds her. "You left the door open and Vickie walked by and saw me," I told her.
"Oh, sorry. It doesn't really matter. She knows what's going on," Mom replied matter of factly. She produced a tube of K-Y Jelly from the pocket of her robe and handed it to me. "Do you want this?" "I guess so," I replied.
I squirted a good amount of the K-Y into my palm then lifted my penis from lying between my legs onto my abdomen trying to stroke it at the same time. With its length and as flaccid as it was, when I tried to stroke it it just bent on itself instead of sliding through my hand.
Mom said, "Oh here," as she grasped the base part of my shaft in her right hand. "Is that better? It won't move around on you now." A more successful stroke on my part was her answer and I began to stroke in earnest now as my penis gained in stiffness. As I continued to stroke, I realized that Mom was gently stroking the base of my penis with her right hand before switching to her left.
I felt her light touch on my testicles, lifting them, letting them roll around on her right palm and fingertips as she began to slowly stroked with her left. That was really turning me on. My own mother handling my testicles and penis like that and I felt myself rising toward an orgasm. As my hips began to rock Mom stopped stroking with her left hand and picked up the specimen cup as she continued to fondle my testicles with her right hand. "Almost there, baby?
It's okay, you just go for it," she said softly. As I was just about to cum, she moved quickly, her right hand pushing my hand out of the way to grasp my penis and continue stroking it as she positioned the cup to catch my semen. Aiming my penis into the specimen cup she continued to stroke as it began pulsing, ejecting several good sized ropes of semen into the cup followed by some smaller spurts and then a few drips. Slowing her hand to a stop, she held my penis for a few moments before laying it down on my abdomen.
Raising the cup in her hand to the bedside table lamp, she squinted through the translucent plastic at the numbers before mumbling to herself and writing the date, time, and quantity on the piece of paper she'd brought in the room.
"Okay, now that wasn't so difficult, was it?" she asked. "I need to get to bed after I rinse this out." Leaving the room she said "Good night," as she closed the door behind her. I laid there on the bed, semen oozing from my now softening penis lying there on my abdomen.