Rate this story It was Friday night and I walked into the bathroom ready to have a bath. I stripped off down to my thong underpants and waited for my mother. I suppose I better back track here, or you’ll be wondering why an eighteen year old boy is still being bathed by his mother. When I was twelve years old I remember having a conversation with my mother one bath time. “Its about time you started bathing alone Zach.” My mother said. “You’ll be a teenager next year.” I was a shy boy back then, and I suppose to...
