The Disappointment
You give in to your carnal desires and begin to relieve yourself sexually. You lean back in your desk chair, quickly pulling down the stained briefs that you've been wearing for three days in a row now. As the horrific images on the laptop worsen, and you increase your strokes to meet them, like a frenzied conductor leading an orchestra of filth. You know you'll be traumatised for years by what you're seeing, but for now it's just a matter of scratching an itch. At last you climax, letting your seed dribble pathetically between your legs. You're in ecstasy, pushing the last few squirts of white caviar onto the carpet.
Suddenly the door bursts open. You twist in shock towards the doorway, sticky erection still in hand. There stands your mother, still in her faded work uniform carrying a tall glass of orange juice. In the space of a second, you see the sheer shock of what she's seeing hit her, turning her expression from horror to disgust. "Sorry...um..." she stammers, her eyes turning to the vomit-soaked floor before she swiftly backs out, firmly slamming the door behind her.
Shame burns your face. No amount of history deleting will erase this moment from your life. You desperately rake your brain for an excuse for the situation, but nothing is yielded. You're just going to have to live with it.
Suddenly the door bursts open. You twist in shock towards the doorway, sticky erection still in hand. There stands your mother, still in her faded work uniform carrying a tall glass of orange juice. In the space of a second, you see the sheer shock of what she's seeing hit her, turning her expression from horror to disgust. "Sorry...um..." she stammers, her eyes turning to the vomit-soaked floor before she swiftly backs out, firmly slamming the door behind her.
Shame burns your face. No amount of history deleting will erase this moment from your life. You desperately rake your brain for an excuse for the situation, but nothing is yielded. You're just going to have to live with it.
