My eventual r*** of my mother had its origins in that impulsive unplanned m*********** episode looking at her breasts in the bath. I felt so ashamed and hid in my room as much as possible out of guilt but it also triggered me to m********* constantly with the memory of it and that only made the guilt worse. She never mentioned it and aside from it being this unspoken about sin that was not talked about things went on normally with one exception. About a week later she told me to change my bedsheets daily. The reason was obvious. But try as I might to resist I was trapped in this addictive cycle of m***********.
A few weeks later it became almost impossible to m********* successfully. I had mentally burned myself out with it. As the frustrations grew it drove my obsessed 15 year old mind to desperation. One morning I woke after a sleepless night of constant m*********** attempts and the desperation got to me. I walked to the bathroom door and was so fearful but still the impulse drove my actions and i opened the bathroom door and walked in. She was standing with her back to me but when the door opened she turned and gasped in shock and her hands went to cover her breasts and between her legs. I was nothing but lust and gripped my erection through my pajama pants and began to rub it. Years later I realize how trapped my selfish act made her in that moment. Not even a towel nearby to try to cover herself. She angrily told me to leave but I was in a fog seeing her like that and rubbing myself. She began to cry and looked away, anywhere but me, pleading with me to leave. Butnit was too late and I orgasmed in my pajama pants. I burst into tears and fled to my room. Except as necessary at meals we both avoided each other.
It sated my aelfish pathetic need for a while but every time I masturbated I felt so guilty and horrible for all the right reasons. But eventually i hit the same point days later and the desperate frustrations hit again. Sadly it was not nearly the effort to reach for the bathroom door knob knowing she was in the bath. But this time the door was locked. From behind the door I heard her voice….that I was being a horrible son and the door would always be locked, to not bother trying.
