Stuart, an Evangelical Christian

Stuart was tall and thin with beautiful blonde hair and blue eyes. He was about to get married.

We lived in the same house in Seven Sisters. By one of those strange twists of fate, our beds were separated by a thin partition wall. Each night we were almost in the same bed, just separated by a few millimetres of hardboard.

Stuart and his fiancee were evangelical Christians. No sex before marriage.

Stuart confided in me that he suffered from vanity. That was not surprising. He really was beautiful. One night when we'd drunk quite a bit he confessed that he had a bad masturbation habit. His religion did not allow it, he could not stop and it left him feeling guilty.

One night he had a date. I decided I would go to bed but not to sleep. When he got back to his room I heard him gradually shutting down. He went to the bathroom and showered. Is my luck in, I wondered. The odds were that a guilty man would feel less guilty if a couple of strokes of his hand let a little spunk flow in the shower water.

He must, however, have had the strength of will to hold off. I can't think there would have been much petting during his date, but possibly just enough to get a young man sexually excited.

I lay there as quiet as I could and heard him give into temptation. I could see the light of his bedside light shining under my door in the pitch-dark house. He always read a few pages before packing in. Suddenly a rhythmic knocking sound. (I slipped a condom on my hard dick and played with it gently as I listened.) The bed was catching something as he worked on his cock. Perhaps he'd read something that had set off some fantasy. I couldn't think he had any porn. It was unmistakable. I realised that he was probably fucking the mattress. Many men guilty about masturbation do that. It is less dirty for them not to touch their penises. That explained why his thrusts were so audible.

He was giving himself a thorough seeing to. He must have been hard at it for at least ten minutes. Finally, after his thrusts had sped up, there was a small number of deliberate ones and he stopped. He'd cum.

I heard him sit up, but no rustle of tissues. I did hear something light being thrown on the floor. I stroked myself to completion in the condom. I tied it and hid it between the mattress and the wall.

The following day I was on leave. Stuart went to work and I had the house to myself. Carefully I slipped into his room. None of us had locks on our doors. I found the sock at the top of his dirty washing. It was soaked in his semen. He must have had it on his cock as he rubbed himself off. I looked under his duvet. Sure enough, the sock hadn't caught all of it. In the middle of the sheet there was the tell-tale stain. I didn't have long. I couldn't risk someone coming back to the house. I got my cock out of my flies, stuck it in the sock. I could feel his semen the length of my cock. A few strokes and I added my load to his and returned the sock to the dirty washing. He'd need to do it soon, as the room did have that tell-tale smell of recent masturbation.

Soon after I came in late, but noticed his reading light was on. I lay on the bed with my phone and wanked off, making a plausible attempt at disguising the noise, but I have no doubt that he heard my bed shaking and my wiping up of the cum with tissues. I repeated this on a random basis in the remaining weeks we shared the house. That was my way of telling him that I also masturbated, but wasn't troubled by the feelings of guilt that plagued him.

Masturbation did come up in our conversations every now and then, but neither of us ever told the other that we'd heard each other at it.

Just before he married I overheard him twice in quick succession. Perhaps I encouraged him and more frequent masturbation encouraged him to do it much more and prepared him for a regular sex life with a woman.

He had 2.4 children, just as beautiful as Stuart was. There is something ironic about the fact that I got so much enjoyment out of the father-to-be's illicit wank. He may have been ashamed but those moments of intimacy helped me to keep in touch with him over the years.