So I was standing beside the kitchen table in 15 seconds flat.
My slender blonde mother smiled at me as she poured her hot coffee into her large plastic travel mug, so she could drink it on her drive to work.
“Sorry, mom,” I shrugged. “I was sleeping so good, it was hard to get up.”
“You're definitely up now, dear,” she said with a little grin, her fingers encircling my rigid penis. I'd come to the table with it still sticking out of my pajamas. She continued what I'd started, jacking me off. “And you're so hard this morning.”
“I started upstairs,” I told her. “So I wouldn't make you late for work.”
“You're so thoughtful.”
Using a combination of her warm hand and her mouth, she rapidly got me to the brink of my morning ejaculation. And then-as I leaned over the table-she aimed my throbbing 11-year-old dick into her large travel mug so that my cum spurted explosively, and many thrilling times, into her coffee.
“Uhhh, that always feels so great!” I gasped, as I came. “No wonder I have a boner every morning.”
It came out as fast as ever, in opaque whitish jets, only the merest splatter getting on the rim of her travel mug. My mom squeezed the last couple of drops of my semen into her Columbian blend, quickly licked the sticky excess off the edge of her mug, and then securely put the top on.
“You're a very good son,” she told me, as she always did.
It was our little joke.
Because I was a very good son. And every morning, I was even the cream in her coffee.