It was a wintry and cold, mid-year school holiday in Australia and the rain teemed down outside with regular and relentless monotony. I was halfway through my final-final year of high school and had been warned by my overbearing parents that socialising and anything resembling fun was not even to be on my radar. The dreary pools of water outside my bedroom window and the piles of books on my desk tied me to the reality of another day with my nose at the grindstone of study for end of year exams that seemed, quite literally, a lifetime away.
I had simply done little to nothing in the way of good old hard work in my 'final' year of school the previous year and, after my parents begged my Headmaster, I had re-enrolled for what some of us called our 'Leaving Year -- with Honours'. In reality there was little honour in the knowledge I was repeating my final year of school just as most of my friends seemed to be beginning theirs with gap years abroad or entry into their dream courses at Universities across the country. I, in the meantime, had dusted off the old school uniform and signed up for another year of mind numbing lectures and child-like school rules. All at the ripe old age of 18 years.
During the July break of three school weeks I had become accustomed to waking after my parents had left the house for work and engaging in what had become my most serious hobby to date -- masturbation. I had suffered for years as a teen in having an overwhelming sexual desire and drive that seemed to have no end, except on the odd occasion where I achieved my release during a nocturnal emission. The odd wet dream sated me but I had little to no control over them and they came (don't pardon the pun) all too infrequently.
It wasn't until a friend gave me a copy of Penthouse magazine that I finally figured it all out. Whilst reading the Forum section one evening I came across a story about a woman who seduced a co-worker by jacking off a broom handle with the tips of her thumb and fingers. When I touched my rock hard dick that night through the 'wee slit' of my pyjamas on the floor of my bedroom and simulated the fondling described in the story, my whole body began to convulse in pure ecstasy and I jumped as I began to pump an enormous load onto my chest, face, hand and pubic area. I'd awakened a beast!
I remember just sitting there as my bent legs twitched and moved about in my post orgasmic bliss. It was exhilarating to say the least and set me on a course of personal 'abuse' that was to last for the rest of my life. That night I sent myself to bed early, much to the amusement of my parents, and proceeded to come three more times in a row. I delighted in using a previous load to lubricate my dick and found immediately that, by using my whole hand wrapped around the shaft and simulating the area just underneath the head, I could achieve a powerful orgasm that resulted in splashes on my chest, face and even the headboard of my bed!
So it was on that cold, July morning, I lay in bed and eagerly fisted my cock for what would likely be the first of up to five powerful orgasms for the day. Pre-cum had oozed out from my tip and coated the underside of my pole causing slippery 'wanking' sounds to escape from under the bed covers. I enjoyed the natural lubrication of pre-cum and found it was in plentiful supply the more I teased myself. It honestly felt good to have something wrapped around my shaft as, being in school, the opportunities for romancing in my current world of school books and parent imposed rules were nil.
As the familiar feeling of tightness in my ball sack began to stir and the sensitivity of the underside of my dick increased I let out a feeble gasp as I came, semen pulsing in three, four, five... six electrifying bursts and pooling on my chest and in my navel. The post orgasmic glow engulfed me as I lay there, letting the bed covers fall down to trap my load against my skin as it dripped down my sides and onto the mattress beneath me.
When my breathing returned to normal I rose from the bed and scooped up the come from my body with some tissues my Mum had left for me beside the bed. It had been a complicit agreement that she and I had arrived at. I was pretty sure she was sick of receiving my underwear in the dirty washing that was crusty with my many loads -- stains that didn't come out in the wash unless they were scrubbed!
However I was damn sure that the tissues arrived in my room after I abused her, although doubtfully without her knowing, the day she found a skimpy pair of her panties crusted with my creamy deposit.
*
I had been eagerly searching the house one afternoon a short time ago for some 'inspiration' for a jerking session. I had stumbled across a pair of her worn panties in the dirty clothes hamper and, sensing a throb between my legs, I had released my cock into the afternoon air and began to beat off with her panties under my nose as I inhaled her womanly scent. The musky and tangy odour had intrigued me and, when I had absently licked the gusset and tasted dry vaginal juices, my cock began to tighten instantly in my hand. I held them up in front of my eyes and stared at the crusty spot where my mother's cunt had been. Her lubrication must have caused a damp spot that had seemingly crept between the fat lips of her pussy and left a ridge on the gusset that modelled her opening. I continued to beat myself stupid as, somewhat strangely, visions of my mother's ass and cunt swaying to and fro came to mind. I could see the swell of her ass cheeks and the valley between them and this was enough to send me over the edge.
Fearing a large clean up I panicked, held the delicate material in front of the eye of my cock and proceeded to spew a hefty load of cum into them. The meshy front instantly began to leak profusely and so I reactively threw them back into the hamper and, knees shaking, walked awkwardly towards the kitchen as I heard the front door open.
My Mum walked in, made some comments about how her life was never easy and proceeded to head straight for the laundry to do, 'Yet another bloody load of washing'. My mind in overdrive at the prospect of being caught out having just used my mother's underwear to get off, I stood still and listened for any clues. My Mum was obviously sorting clothes from the basket to the washing machine and sang a song under her breath as she did so. My heart was beating like a jack hammer.
Suddenly the singing stopped and an under the breath, 'what the ...?' shattered the air. I could vaguely hear her sniff and then she uttered a sound like a knowing 'Oh.' I knew I was busted and after I heard the washing detergent added and the machine start, I braced myself for what was to be an embarrassing and life altering moment.
Mum entered the kitchen and, somewhat astoundingly, began to talk as if nothing had happened -- although her nerves were, upon reflection, a little bit frazzled. She set about preparing that night's meal and shooed me away when I began to enquire as to what it was. I took the opportunity to escape and did so, seemingly having gotten away with a vile and disgusting act!
It was only days later that Mum returned from the shops one afternoon and silently left a box of tissues on my bedside table. Enough said -- or not!
*
After cleaning myself up from my first wank of the day I took a quick shower and set about doing some study. It hadn't been long when one of my history books mentioned something that vaguely related to sex and so I dropped my pants and began to furiously tug at my cock wanting to release yet more sexual frustration and energy.
