Lazy, revolting teenager
that I was, I developed the habit of having a quick one off the wrist, catching the ejaculate in my cupped hand and then smearing it beneath my bed.

Previously I had been disciplined enough to race to the bathroom and wash my shame down the basin but the shock of encountering my brother one night on the landing as I tried to conceal a handful of dripping man-fat had made me understandably leery.

I was a boarder but each holiday I returned home to add to the spermicidal holocaust, its horrors concealed from the world by only a valance. On one occasion I mustered the courage to shoulder the bed aside and take a peak; The red carpet was all but obscured down my 'favoured' side of the bed by a 3ft by 1ft streak of glossy, opaque matter, which sent little puffs of white dust into the air when I gingerly scratched at it.

Naturally I did what any sensible adolescent would do. I vowed never to look again and just kept on adding to my spluff-cake. Back at school, my mother informed me during one of our weekly phone-calls that we were to be moving house. No alarm bells sounded.

I returned to a half-emptied home at the end of term but my room was still fairly unmolested... I'll have to finally tidy up the old jizz-monster, I thought, pushing my bed aside. Suddenly the room span. The whole fucking thing was GONE! OH CHRIST!

Its texture and location could have left no doubt about its provenance, surely. And somebody had spent an entire day scrubbing the carpet free of literally pints of my dried sperm and it could only have been my mother. My MOTHER who I'd never even heard fart and who didn't like Four Weddings because Hugh Grant said 'fuck' too many times at the start.

To this day a tiny part of me hopes that she was so naive she assumed it to be an especially labyrinthine spider's web or perhaps a dollop of ectoplasm left by some ghostly apparition. Could she have thought such things, dear reader - or am I kidding myself?
(Happybara The jungle came alive and took him, Wed 9 Jun 2010, 10:44, 5 replies)

That's minging

( rofl harris, Wed 9 Jun 2010, 10:56, closed)

You're probably both kidding yourselves
I bet she's telling herself that it was just an especially labyrinthine spider's web while not believing a word of it, just as you probably don't believe it either. It's like mutual telling of white lies to keep things from getting awkward, and mums tend to be pretty good at that.
(ElGranto, Wed 9 Jun 2010, 11:36, closed)

Pfft.
Mums were sex-addled teenagers once too, and know exactly what's going on - and probably giggle about it with their friends.

Now that all my Uni mates are parents with kids up to twelve or so, they're actively looking forward to embarrassing the crap out of their offspring by almost-but-not-quite catching them wanking. Including carefully planning that daughters get surprised by mums, while sons are fair game for anyone. One lass is *specifically* aiming to do the old "cup of tea" trick to her boy, being a good b3ta girl.

Of course, this might say more about my friends than anything else...

/Edit: Or not, see Sandettie's two posts straight below Happybara's, and Anotherlogan's mum below them too!
( Fronds are waving gently on, Wed 9 Jun 2010, 13:56, closed)

My mother claims
to have had sex with only one guy before she married my father and I doubt even this. She shared a flat with one of the Profumo-affair hookers and assumed until it all blew up that she 'just had a lot of friends.' She also stormed out of a party in disgust when it turned into an orgy and had to walk all the way back home from Chiswick to central London whilst her 'date' was giving some gal a different sort of ride. The sixties was totally wasted on her.
I just hope she didn't drag my father upstairs to marvel at the mysterious 'webbing'.
(Happybara The jungle came alive and took him, Wed 9 Jun 2010, 15:50, closed)

There's always an exception!
Bless her, maybe you did get away with it after all.
( Fronds are waving gently on, Wed 9 Jun 2010, 17:37, closed)