One of a series of boyhood experiences
By now (aged 13), I was masturbating on a daily basis, sometimes two or three times a day. I never wanked without shooting though - there didn't seem much point, as achieving orgasm, and consequently spunk, was the reason for the wank!
I remember shortly before our move, I had to stay with my mother over a weekend at the hotel in London, where she stayed whilst working in the capital during the week. My sister was staying with friends.
I was thirteen and had to share a bed with my mother. I had to wait till she was asleep before I could have my nightly wank. I had to be so careful. I couldn't toss myself off in the usual manner, as such vigorous movements would probably have woken her up, so I elected to manipulate my little stiffy rather like milking a cow - a sort of pulsating squeezing. My little 3' cock protruded from my pyjamas so I was able to freely 'milk' it to my heart's content. As I reached the point of no return, I had to control my breathing. The thrill and the excitement of this act of sheer naughtiness made me cum copiously, and my quivering willy pumped several jets of sperm into my waiting palm. The next obstacle was in surreptitiously turning back the bedclothes one-handed, as I was anxious not to spill the handful of spunk, which I was clutching precariously!
At this point, my mother woke up! She asked me where I was going.
'For a wee-wee,' I lied. I managed to reach the bathroom without spilling any spunk, and deposited the viscous fluid in the sink, washing my hands before returning. I went to sleep that night feeling very contented, although that didn't prevent my continually fiddling with my now-soft penis before dropping off.