Some time after I returned from my 'masturbation holiday' (Oct '10) I felt the need for an extra wank one morning. It happened like this, in our family my father worked the usual nine to five routine, but my mother was in sales and had variable hours. This particular morning I was in the house alone when I decided to wank before going out to meet a friend as arranged. I stopped at the bottom of the stairs and sat down to start wanking. The decision was that sudden!
I had got nicely into my stride when I heard my mother at the door. As she was turning the key in the lock she looked through the letter box, as we all did, and saw me mid-wank on the stairs. There was nothing I could do to hide, there would be hell to pay. This was a time, sixty years ago when masturbation was called 'self-abuse' and a very sinful act. My mother came in and asked me 'what was I doing?' There is no reply to that question, anyway, I just said that I was itchy. She examined my now rapidily deflating reddened penis and removing some lint from it said that I could make myself sore if I did that too often. I was then told that I should have gone to my friends as arranged and not hang around the house as I would only become bored (and wank!).
And that was it, no hell to pay, no grounding, no loss of privileges, all Mum said was 'don't do it too often'. Great advice, which I followed all my life.