At long last she's left the house, I thought to myself as I watched the curvaceous cutie that was Samantha Fox walk down the path to the front gate and out onto the street. She was a beautiful girl. Really stunning. I'd had a thing for her since the day we met. Every guy did. She had such full, round breasts. And her figure was perfect. Absolutely perfect. And as for that flowing dark-brown hair of hers. Oh wow! And now that it was summer she wore far less than ever before. She'd come to see Chris (the boyfriend and my alleged best friend), who lived with me but who has been out since this morning. I wanted her to go fast. She was too darn hot. And that dress! If only she'd leave, I thought to myself all that afternoon. She was making me so damn horny. Anyway, she did leave - eventually - and as I stood there watching her leaving the house, I felt a strain below my belt.

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   My penis was rapidly expanding beneath my underwear. Maintaining my composure in her seductive presence had been too much. I'd sworn never to touch myself down there. The priest always said it was the most grievous of sins. But I would pray for forgiveness later. Right now, what I needed was some relief. I pondered for a moment how to go about '"doing the deed". I had no memories of ever having masturbated before. Chris used porn when he did it. I knew that. Perhaps I could do the same.
Ten minutes later, I emerged from Chris' room with four or five magazines in my arms. I placed them on my bed and started scanning through them. The first two featured pretty nudes standing or sitting in seductive poses, but the other two were more hardcore. One image that particularly struck me was one of two very beautiful women caressing a mans' erect penis with their outstretched tongues.

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   I knew what I had to do. I unzipped my fly, pulled down my trousers and underpants and started to slowly manipulate my extending member. Gradually, the stroking motion developed a momentum of its own. It all came so naturally to me. I felt as though I'd been doing it all my life. And the sensation was like nothing I'd ever known before. How had I resisted this impulse to self-gratify for so many years. The minutes passed unnoticed. I became preoccupied with the obscene photographs in the magazines on my bed, all of which were now stained in places with what I later discovered to be called pre-cum. And boy, was I sweating! How long had I been at myself, rubbing my penis vigorously like this? It didn't matter. I would keep this up forever if I could. This was the greatest feeling in the world! And then, it happened. The thing that shamed me for all time. . .

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I had been so busy tossing off that I hadn't heard the door - nor Samantha's footsteps as she went from room to room in search of me. I had been completely oblivious of everything around me up to the very end. And then, she entered my room. She'd tried everywhere else in the house, so my room had seemed the obvious place to look. Oh, if only I'd been more careful, shut the door or something. But I wasn't and for that I will forever live in shame. Samantha entered my room to see my sitting at the end of my bed, directly facing the door, my face buried in the magazine I held aloft in my left hand, my right had rigorously caressing my totally erect penis. I had just moved it down lower to fondle my balls when she entered, and when I looked up, there she was, staring in shock and horror as my right had fingered the base of my testicles. And then I froze. I could not think I was in so much shock. Eventually, I managed to utter some barely intelligible words. She did not respond but continued staring at my enlarged penis. I was too stunned to even remove my hand from my testicles.  
"Samantha," I finally said. "You.

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  . . you should have knocked. She glared at me.
"This is the most disgusting thing I have ever seen. You're masturbating! Only deviants masturbate! I'm going to tell everyone about this. " And with that, she left. I did not try to follow her, merely sat there in silence for a long time. My reputation was ruined. I had nothing left to lose. And so, with a sigh, I gave up caring and proceeded with my wanking session. An hour later, Chris came in and started roaring at me over what Samantha had told him. I simply ignored him and kept on wanking until he left the room. I didn't finish up until almost midnight. Then I went to bed and, when I awoke the next morning, packed my bags.

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   I took the number 15 bus to Terrace Street and booked a coach. I didn't care where it was headed. After that day, I masturbated whenever I felt like, generally when there were attractive women I fancied around. They were disgusted by my behaviour but I didn't care. I spent most of my days after that in the downtown sex cinema, stroking myself silly from morning til noon. They don't call me Billy-No-Mates for.

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