I knew that a photographer would be coming with the journalist, but itwas not the prospect of my photos in the 'Sunday Times' magazine thatmade me so ...elf-conscious about my appearance, rather it was the way Icould be portrayed. I had read similar interview articles before and,if the person interviewed did not make the right impression, thejournalist could paint a word picture far more damning than anyphotograph. Although the interview had been scheduled for ten a.m., itwas nearer to eleven. She would make it home before I would leave for school and she would take a shower. Almost every morning I would make sure to finish my breakfast so I could have some fun. I would go to the bathroom door and look through the hole in the door that I only knew was there. This week I didn't have to worry about my dad being home to catch me, so I freely whipped out my dick and started jacking off while watching he undress. It made me late for school that day. On Tuesday I decided that I wanted to. “I think it’s time you learn what it’s like when a boy does that,” she said, and began unbuckling Helga’s belt. Helga stared at Consuela’s full brown breasts with their dark nipples and at her thick bush of jet black hair between her thighs. Consuela sat there for several seconds after uncovering Helga’s drenched and matted thicket of brown hair. Finally she made a decision and pushed Helga’s thighs apart and looked at her pussy, now largely relaxed and little more than a slit with a couple of. I had a shower and dressed, quite conservatively this time. I went out and made myself a coffee and sat out in the sunshine. The house was very quiet, which was unusual as usually some music or television was going but it was peaceful so I enjoyed the peace and quiet. I didn't put too much thought into why it would be quiet, or maybe I just didn't want to think about the damage that I may have done.I had just finished my coffee and was walking inside to rinse my cup when Bill came out of his.