My Mother's Secret: A Journey of Obsession and Forbidden Desire Well, I wish I could say it was the first time my mother caught me masturbating. But, it wasn't. And, it's not like I was always walking around the house, pulling my crank out and flashing it around, either. I wasn't trying to get caught, but, she had this uncanny ability to want to barge into my bedroom, or need to talk to me when I was in the shower, and as a result, she periodically caught me with my hand around my crank, pumping it toward orgasm. On top of that, I don't know how many times I'd be lying in bed, enjoying a nice early morning wank, and she'd open the door on me. Each time it happened, she'd always apologize in her knowing, motherly sort of way. She'd make a hasty exit, leaving me alone to finish what I was doing. I fully expected her to pull me aside, and in her kind and thoughtful way, lecture me about what I was doing, or about being more discreet, but she never once brought it up or mentioned it in any way. It was almost as if she simply paid it no mind at all. Of course, like any teenager, I learned a valuable lesson each time she caught me. For instance, I learned to lock my bedroom door when I was jacking off. I learned to lock the bathroom door, too, and, I found better hiding places for my nasty magazines. I started paying attention to the kitchen calendar to know what her working hours were, when she was going to be out, and when she might be home. However, when she caught me this time, she didn't walk away. And, when it happened, my feeble, nineteen year old brain had no idea of the profound effect it would have on my life. I didn't even realize she was home yet! …and then things took a turn
