Your memory, Mom, is a potent aphrodisiac. I've been a good boy, resisting the temptation to touch myself while thinking of you. But today, I'm weak, and my hand finds its way to my throbbing cock. I'm rock hard, imagining your curves, your smile, your voice. I stroke myself, my breath coming in ragged gasps, as I picture you here with me, watching, wanting. The tension builds, and I explode, my body shuddering with the force of my release, your name echoing in my mind.