There was a soft, irritating knock on the door.
I paused. "Uhm, the door's locked?" I said, adding a totally unnecessary interrogative to my sentence. I knew the door was locked. I'd locked it, after all.
"Uhm..." I started. "Can I help you?"
I was hoping my mother wouldn't ask what I was doing. I could hardly tell her I was wanking on my back in the middle of my bed. I'd also probably have to mention that this was the second time in a matter of hours that I had indulged in self-pleasuring, and that I had been so tightly wound up during the afternoon by flirtation with my other half, browsing through sex blogs, starting a script with fellatio in it and browsing soft porn for "inspiration" that I doubted I'd actually manage to unwind myself, even if I managed to masturbate three times.
"It can wait," came my mother's voice, to my intense relief.
Of course, my mother's voice had turned me off. But it didn't take long for me to flick that switch back to the "on" position, and after a while I'd had a more intense orgasm than the one I'd had just before dinner. Interesting. I didn't think you could do that unless you were Peter North.
I was rather crooked as I managed to make my way downstairs. After all, I'd been masturbating with my legs spread. Twice. So perhaps I can be forgiven fro my somewhat ungainly gait.
"You, uh, wanted to see me, Mother?" I asked as I opened the door to the lounge.
"Yes, I did. About that £100 you owe me..."