Like I always said, we can never be too careful with our precious sons. That’s why whenever my son goes in for his annual penis check-up, I accompany him into the room and ask the doctor if his penis is the normal amount of dry and sexually unused as is appropriate for his age of 17.
Don’t worry, my son agrees that this is a reasonable request from me and signs off on it. We’ve had a close bond since he was just a young boy whom the girls were trying and failing to kiss on the playground (I gently hovered around him holding a curled up Good Housekeeping magazine).
Some people will say, “You can’t really tell that from looking at a dick,” but those people are wrong and probably had terrible mothers. A good doctor always knows what a dick’s been up to, and thankfully, my doctor assures me that my son’s schlong is dry as the dessert and his penis is safe.
My son doesn’t even masturbate. Some would call the fact that I know that “invasive” but all it takes is a few carefully placed cameras, a tastefully masculine purity ring, and a promise between a mother and her son. He assures me he’ll never stroke it unless he’s trying to get it hard enough to insert into his wife to try for a baby.
Every good person knows that’s the only right way.
Some day my son will go off and get married and his dick’s whereabouts will be his wife’s responsibility. But for now, it’s my job to make sure that thing stays bone fucking dry.
I love you Joshua!
