I was a typical over-sexed boy. It was the 50's and young people didn't engage in sexual activities like they do today. At least I didn't. I was kind of nerdy, wore glasses, a bookworm, excelled in the classroom but not on the athletic field. I also masturbated a lot.
I was dating the only girl I ever really dated in school and she was as sexually naive as I was plus she had some other sexual hang ups which I didn't discover until we eventually married. But that's another story.
It was not a typical weekday afternoon. Not typical in the sense that my parents were both out of town and I was alone in my house. My dad had gone to a labor union convention and my mother went with him. It was one of the few times that they left me alone - but not without some adult supervision as I was soon to discover.
Late afternoon, home from school, house to myself, I did what many teen-age boys are prone to do. I turned the radio on to a Top 40 station and turned up the volume. I pulled one of my older brother's girlie magazines out from it's hiding place, took off all my clothes and lay down on my bed. Soon I was immersed in the pictures of ladies with big tits, fantasizing and jacking off with carefree abandon.
Bill Haley and the Comets were wailing away with Rock Around The Clock and I was so absorbed in my self-gratification that I didn't hear the front door open. I was stroking and looking at boobs and just about to shoot when I heard a stern female voice from my bedroom door.
"Young man, what are you doing?
I abruptly stopped my stroking, turned my head toward the door and saw the forbidding presence of Mrs. Packer, the devout holy roller who lived next door.
I gasped and said, "How did you get in here?"
"Your mother gave me a key and asked me to look in from time to time to see if you were behaving yourself. She thought you might get into your father's liquor cabinet or engage in some other un-Christian activities. I can see that you are. What you are doing is a sin."
My facial expression quickly changed to one of amazement and I put both hands over my crotch to try to cover myself.
She looked at me sternly and said, "And Onan knew that the seed should not be his; and it came to pass, when he went in unto his brother's wife, that he spilled it on the ground, lest that he should give seed to his brother. Genesis, Chapter 38, verse 9," she said.
I gulped and didn't say anything.
"You're about to spill your seed, aren't you?"
I still didn't know what to say. I noticed that her gaze had fallen from my face to my crotch which I was still trying my best to conceal.
"You're a naughty boy. Just like all boys. I really thought better of you."
"Gosh, Mrs. Packer," I stammered. "I don't know what to say?"
"Actions speak louder than words," she said and walked over toward my bed. She was rather tall and matronly with grey hair and an ample body which she usually covered with rather plain looking, loose-fitting dresses which I believe she made herself. She looked intently at my barely covered genitals.
"I see you haven't spilled your seed yet."
"Nuh, nuh, no," I stuttered.
"That's a good boy," she said, "Because if you had I would have to clean you up. That's in the bible too, you know."
"No, I didn't know that."
"And if any man's seed of copulation go out from him, then he shall wash all his flesh in water, and be unclean until the even. And every garment, and every skin, whereon is the seed of copulation, shall be washed with water, and be unclean until the even," she continued. "That's from Leviticus."
"Gosh, I didn't know that was in the bible."
"It is," she said. "Have you washed yourself since the last time you spilled your seed?"
"Uh, no."
"Then I suppose I have to clean you up."
"Well I can do it myself."
"Oh no," she said. "I'll do it to make sure it's done right." With that she turned and walked into the bathroom. I could hear her bustling about and the sound of running water. She came back into my bedroom carrying a towel, a wet wash cloth and a bar of soap. She sat down on the bed.
