One time when I was about twelve years old, I was in my room and really beating my meat. I had a mirror between my legs and was watching the hand jack...ng off my cock. The event happened I was so afraid of: My mother came into my room to wake me up for school and found me beating my meat. All she said was to get dressed when I was finished. Well, a guy hates to face his mother after he gets caught red-handed, so I did not leave my room to come down for break-fast. Soon Mother was back in my room. They’re both bound to happen, as probable as the sun continuing to rise. When exactly they happen… Well… That’s up to chance.It was very similar to the knocking. It could have been 20 or 30 minutes, he never heard it the first time, and the second time it was more tentative than the first time, but he definitely heard it the second time. It was a soft and gentle whisper, the cutest sound he’d ever heard (and truth be told, he’d remember it all his life). A single word, that he’d heard so many. The schedule called for an early dinner and then a long, hot soak in the bathtub. Surrounded by scented candles and my trusty twelve inch boyfriend, I got myself off twice. Why, you ask? Because there's no guarantee that these guys have anything on their minds except a quick cum. If they're not going to take care of me, I guess I have to do it myself. Frank seemed like a nice guy, but I had no idea if he still had the stamina, or the interest, to give me an orgasm.I hung up my all white. I decided to play it like I was acting sort of impulsively to this woman who refused to be pushed away despite all my attempts. For a moment I looked down at the bathroom floor. Then I looked up suddenly and reached my left arm across my body and placed it gently on her cheek. I turned my head and closed my eyes. I carefully guided her head down towards mine even while I was reaching my lips up. Our mouths met, tenderly at first. I felt the soft skin of her lips pressed against mine and pulled.