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I would make her take every single drop I had for her. She would swallow it all and I would keep my cock in her until it went limp.
I was stroking myself very hard and fast now. Despite the warmth of the water on my back I could feel the coldness of the sweat beads on my chest and forehead. I stroked and stroked, seeing Emma’s beautiful eyes stare at me, her face a mixture of alarm as she couldn’t breathe and pleasure, knowing that she was giving me the ultimate ecstasy.
"Milo?" I heard my mother’s voice, to my horror it wasn’t in the bedroom, it was closer, she must have been standing a foot or two away, on the other side of the shower curtain. Yet, I couldn’t stop. I simply couldn’t. I had to finish what I had started, already having been interrupted twice by my own thoughts that were not pleasing to my mind.
Emma’s face, the memory of her voice, my father’s grunts and my mother’s all too real voice within a reach of the shower curtain finally pushed me over the brink and for a moment the world swayed in front of me, then went blank and I felt my cock throbbing in my hand, chunks of cum spewing onto the shower wall.
I stilled myself then, breathing hard and turned my head towards the shower curtain. I couldn’t see anybody’s silhouette standing on the other side as I knew I would have had my mother been there. If I knew I could see her and she really did enter the bathroom a few moments before, then she certainly saw me wanking off in the shower.
I felt ashamed and utterly annoyed. "Fuck!" I yelled. I really wanted to just bust out of the bathroom and then my bedroom, stand on the landing and yell off the top of my lungs: ‘Can’t a person even peacefully wank off in this house?’
Of course I did none of that. It was one of those crazy moments when a person thinks they are just about to stand up in a class enveloped in silence and scream in frustration. The pressure that was building up in me since last night finally released, I felt calmer although not as of yet completely satisfied. I poked my head around the curtain and looked around. My mum was nowhere to be seen.
"Mum?" I asked quietly, but there was no response. I hoped to god that it had all been just my imagination and she didn’t catch me in an uncompromising act. I cleaned the spunk off the wall and took a quick shower, almost running down the stairs, fresh clothes thrown haphazardly on my still wet body.
"Mum?" I said when I finally entered the kitchen. She was standing in the corner pouring a cup of coffee, with my dad sitting at the breakfast table, very predictably reading his newspaper. "Mum?" I asked again and she turned around. I could see distress in her eyes. She had been in my bathroom only minutes before! Deep shame flushed through my entire body and I knew my face must have flushed beetroot red.
"Come, Milo," she smiled gently. "Let’s have breakfast."
With a heavy heart I sat down and accepted the plate full of toast that she had offered. I didn’t dare look into her eyes again; I was too embarrassed.
I felt a rising anger towards dad, who in some crazy sort of way was responsible for me masturbating in the shower that morning and mum walking in on me. Of course I knew she would never mention it, but then, she needn’t to. I saw her face when I first walked into the kitchen. It wasn’t disappointment, not exactly that. She was merely mortified over barging in on me and putting her own mind into a whirlpool of cacophonic thoughts.
I looked at dad and satisfyingly noted that he had been oblivious to our little exchanges of shame and discomfort.
"So, dad…" I couldn’t help myself. Why would mum and I be the only ones in distress? "What are you going to do then?" I asked, deliberately ignoring the warning stare he had given me. "Will you call the police?" He would have choked me with his bare hands if he had a chance; I could see that.
"Why on earth would you be calling the police, Peter?" asked mum as she joined us at the table.
"Oh," I said, making myself sound surprised. The bastard just came up with the break in thing to confront me with a more appropriate question that he didn’t dare voice out loud. "Didn’t dad tell you? There’s been a break in last night."
My mother flushed with momentary panic. "A break in? Where?"
"The student house." I said, noting that my father had not said a word since I walked into the kitchen, appearing as if his head was just about to explode with anger.
"Good god!" my mother was genuinely alarmed by now. "Peter!"
"It’s nothing Muriel. Nothing happened, really. I was over there checking on a furnace and…"
I gave him a look of utter contempt. ‘Furnace, yes. But, you fail to elaborate which one, you bastard!’ went through my mind.
"When was that?" asked my mum and I felt sorry for her. Here she was, full of concern and anguish, while my dad tried to lie his way out of trouble, obviously unashamedly determined to pull me into it, as well.
"I couldn’t sleep last night." He said calmly, watching me like a hawk. "So, I went over there to check on the furnace that Milo had fixed earlier. While I was there, the front door slammed, that was all. It might have just been the wind."
Uncertain about the situation, my mum was eager to continue the conversation and reach some sort of conclusion. "But, Peter…" she began.
"It was nothing, Muriel, for god’s sake!" he bellowed out, making mum and I both jump in our seats. "Why do you always have to make such a fuss about everything? That’s why…" he nearly choked trying to think fast over how to get himself out of the predicament. "That’s why," he repeated calmly, "I don’t tell you about little things like that, love." He smiled at mum and although still uncertain, she seemed to accept his explanation. "No need to worry yourself over nothing, is there?"
I had been defeated.
"Besides, I had to go and see that Milosh here did a good job, didn’t I? You know how careless he can be sometimes. I just wanted to make sure the girl had heat for the night."
I dropped my half eaten toast onto the plate. By now, I had completely lost my appetite. He didn’t just defeat me; he also kicked me in the stomach while I lay in the dust. Bastard!
"It’s all in running order now, nothing’s happened, and let’s just have breakfast in peace and quiet." he commanded and as far as mum was concerned, that was that. He asked no more questions and I didn’t prod him anymore, either.
I forced myself to finish the breakfast, with my mother cheerfully discussing her plans for the evening and my father returning his full attention to the newspaper.
As I was leaving to go to Brian’s, dad caught up with me outside in the driveway. He grabbed my forearm and squeezed it to the point of pain.
"You do that again, you little bastard and I’ll… I’ll…"
I shook him off, got in the car and drove away. If I said another word, I knew the inevitable consequence would be for mum to find out what had been really going on in the ‘student house’ the night before. My dad and I would have gotten into a huge argument and I would have spilled the beans. I didn’t want to hurt her like that, or at least that’s what I had been telling myself ever since.
My determination to take revenge upon Emma and dad, however, only became firmer. They would both regret their actions; I was going to make sure of that.
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