Late Night Diy

This may or may not be true - that is for you to decide - but I would still like you to answer the question at the end. All the participants are, of course, over eighteen.

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I started masturbating in 1986. I pretty much did it the same way every time, screwing my hips against the bed. I often used to come on the bedspread or sheets, then wipe off the semen with tissues or lick it off. However, this would still often leave a stain.

My fantasies revolved around real people and events, mainly a girl from across the road who I had had one wonderful French kiss with. She was starting to chase me again two years later and we had shared a lot of sexy moments at that time, but nothing sexual between us.

Then everything changed. It was at some time in the winter months, when I woke up at about eleven-thirty at night. At that age, nothing could wake me when I was asleep, but for some reason this night was different.

I could not work out what had woken me, but I was unusually curious - normally I would have been tired enough to go back to sleep. I heard a rasping sound, which might have been coming from outside. My bed was flush with the wall where the window was, so I sat up and pulled back the curtain to look outside.

The road was quiet, as usual, but there was a bright white light on above a garage opposite. I knew the men who lived in that house and thought I could make them out in their driveway. I heard the rasping sound again, which sounded like it could be someone sawing. I thought that the men were doing some late night DIY and, although I thought this was strange, I closed the curtains and resolved to go to sleep.

But as I settled back down into bed I heard more sounds. They seemed to be coming from my parents' bedroom, which was next to mine and only divided by a thin plaster wall. It sounded like my mother was crying out in pain - the thought flashed through my mind that she was ill. Then I heard what sounded like my father grunting with exertion, and I was suddenly scared and angry - I thought he was beating up my mother.

I felt that I had to do something to stop him, but what? Should I burst in and hold him back? Should I call the police? Should I cover my head with my pillow and wait until the morning to raise it with my mother? Then my decision was made for me. I heard the rasping sound again and realised it was also coming from their bedroom. I also worked out that it was not rasping, but panting.

It suddenly struck me that my parents were having sex. My first reaction was disgust, but then this was quickly followed by curiosity. I was intrigued to know what real sex - not film or tv sex - sounded like.

I strained to hear better. Knowing I had to be quiet, so that I did not disturb my parents, I slowly and carefully propped myself up on my elbows. I knew the middle of the headboard of my parents' bed backed on to the left of my headboard as I faced it, so I shuffled to that side and I cupped my hands behind my ears. I also yawned several times to increase the volume of all the sounds around me. That also served to hear the sound of my grandmother's breathing in the other room off the landing - it sounded like she was asleep.

I made sure my penis was unfurled under my body, and it got hard as I heard the panting continue and the bed springs squeak slightly. I thought I could make out mum's panting, which was accompanied by light moans, and dad's, which was more guttural. Then I heard three deep grunts from dad, spaced out over 5 to 10 seconds, interspersed by mum letting go of her vocal chords at about the same time.

I thought they had finished but I carried on listening to see if I could hear more. I had not come. Then all of a sudden, I saw a shaft of light from under their bedroom door as someone switched a light on and dad half opened the door. My bedroom door was wide open as always, so I quickly slithered under my sheets so that I would not be noticed.

Luckily, dad did not come out of the room straight away, because he turned back towards mum and whispered: "American-style sex!". She giggled in response, then dad went to the bathroom to clean himself up, whilst I could make out the sound of mum cleaning the bedsheets.

After dad returned to bed, they both turned off their reading lights quickly. I waited a while until I thought they would be asleep, then re-ran the events in my mind and masturbated.

The thought of hearing them again began to dominate my thoughts after this. I went to bed early for days, but stayed awake hoping to catch them at it again. It was not until about a month later that I did and the occasion provided many clues that would help me plan my voyeurism in the future.

The pattern of their love-making on this night - including their foreplay - would become familiar to me, with a few slight variations. One of them would put their book down, switch off their bedside lamp, then touch and kiss the other, who would read on pretending not to notice. Then their feelings would become too much, they would drop their book or magazine, and respond in kind.

Once they were both turned on enough, more often than not, the remaining bedside lamp would be turned off. I would often hear the sound of their bodies rubbing against the sheets until one or two lights were switched back on. This would herald sounds that would remain a mystery to me until I snooped around their bedroom. I heard the drawers in their bedside tables opening, which was followed by the sound of a box opening and a strange snapping sound. There was also a sort of squelching, farting sound and the drawers being closed again.

It seemed to me that penetration followed, because I heard a sharp intake of breath from mum, then more movement on the sheets. Eventually, I would hear similar grunts and groans to that first time, often simultaneously. At other times, it sounded like mum came a little while after dad or not at all.

But it was when I reflected on what had led up to their bedroom antics, that I was able to be more accurate in predicting when they would have sex next. It was the fact that they held and kissed each other more in the evening, they sometimes watched flims that had an erotic charge and - perhaps most importantly - encouraged me to go to bed early. Of course, I was only too happy to oblige.

There were also the times when they were out late together, therefore expecting me to be asleep when they returned. At these times, I would often stay up late reading under a small spotlight, listening out for their car to arrive at the top of our road. When I heard it, I would switch off the light, turn my back to my bedroom door and pretend to be asleep.

Mum and dad would often come in sounding like they were in a good mood, perhaps a bit tipsy. One of them would check to see if I was asleep. It seemed they were assessing my breathing and whether I would respond if they called my name softly. I learnt to maintain a passive face.

When they were at work during the day and my grandmother was downstairs, I was able to check the contents of their bedside drawers. On my dad's side was a box of condoms and on my mum's was a tube of KY Jelly. I presumed that my mum, at 47, did not have enough natural lubrication.

One of the consistent sounds that always baffled me was mum dropping something into the metal wastebin in the room before they went to the bathroom to clean themselves up, ahead of having sex. I knew that it was only feasible to find out what it was the next day and when I looked into the bin, I saw it was a pantyliner.

To this day, it baffles me - were they only doing it at the end of her period? During her period? That might have explained the mystery red stain on the bed cover that caused mum some embarrasment when I asked her about it once. She told me she did not know what it was.

I also took advantage of being able to rummage in the laundry bin for her panties. If I was ever caught, I could always say I was putting my dirty clothes in the basket. I only did it a few times and I was not caught.

On the first occasion, I fished out all mum's panties, glorying in looking at and smelling the yellow urine and pussy stains at the front. On the later occasions, I plucked up courage to come into one of the pairs (sometimes wearing them), hoping mum would not notice. Whether she did or not, she never mentioned it to me.

She did notice me on an occasion which was purely accidental - just my bad luck. One Saturday morning, dad had gone out and I needed something from my parents' bedroom. I simply opened the door and found my mum lying on her back on the floor, completely naked. It was the only time in my teenage years that I saw her bush, as we were not comfortable about being naked around the house. It was an exciting but fleeting glimpse, as mum shooshed me out of the room. She later told me she was doing stretching exercises. It is only recently that I have thought she might have been doing something sexual.

In the summer of 1987, we went on holiday abroad with my best friend. We were both hormonal and talked tentatively about sex. I never told him what I had heard and done, but in a hotel we stayed in on the way to our final destination, I asked him if he thought his parents still had sex. He told me that his mum could not because of an operation that she had. I could feel his sadness when he told me this and I did not know what to say.

My parents had given me the keys to their separate bedroom on the floor below us in the hotel, so that I could go to them when my friend and I had finished unpacking. When I got to their door, I thought I could hear them giggling and laughing in a sexual way. Although I was in a public corridor, I opened the door as slowly and quietly as I could, hoping to catch my parents in some sort of sexual activity. I think I nearly did. I got in the room and heard my parents voices coming from the open bathroom door.

I deliberately cleared my throat before popping my head into the bathroom and I saw what looked like dad standing over mum as she sat on the toilet. He quickly turned around and asked - in a rather flustered way - what I was doing there. I told him I had come in as instructed and as he approached me, he reprimanded me for not knocking. I apologised and acted sheepishly, but - unusually - he did not chastise me any more than that, probably because he knew they were doing something he did not want to discuss with me.

When we arrived at our final destination, my curiosity got the better of me when we were unpacking. My mum told me to fetch something from her suitcase and I found her pack of pantyliners. As I sat examining them, she came into her bedroom and I quickly, but rather unconvincingly, put them back and found her what she wanted. It was an awkward moment for both of us which passed without comment.

Then in those two weeks on the coast I heard my parents have sex twice, which was an enormous turn-on for me. They had complained bitterly that they had been given two single beds in the bedroom of the villa we were staying in, but there was nothing that could be done to change the situation. The arrangement of our beds was similar to ours at home - headboard to headboard - but the wall was very very thick, so I made sure the door to the corridor between our rooms and the only bathroom was open at night. I felt I was in for a treat on the two occasions when mum shut this door and I was right.

The first time after she closed the door, I heard the screech of the beds on the hard tiled floor, as mum and dad pushed them together. I could barely hear them have sex because of the thick wall between us, but they seemed to be more uninhibited than usual. I masturbated as I listened, unsure if my friend was awake too - he never said anything to me about it if he was. The next morning, mum asked us if we had slept ok and we both said yes.

I think this only encouraged them for the second time. I decided to be cheeky and give mum a clue to what I knew by pulling open the door to the corridor that she had shut earlier, but once again, it did not provoke a reaction from her.

The more often I listened and learned, the more I saw mum and dad as sexual beings, and wanted to take part. My fantasies became fixated on mum and dad. Sometimes I would join them both in my fantasy, other times I would work up a fictitious jealousy of dad and - in my fantasies - make love to mum whilst he was absent. I was especially angry and jealous when - that same year - I overheard my mum discussing arrangements she had made to ensure that I did not have sexual relations with my girlfriend.

I did creep close to their bedroom door on a couple of occasions when they made love, trying to persuade myself to go in, but my heart was always beating furiously and my hand shook as it approached the door handle. Ultimately, my fear of the unknown and the proximity of my grandmother's bedroom stopped me.

However, I did try to make my knowledge known to my parents, especially my mum, who is more observant. I put a letter 'S' on my wall calendar every time they did it, making sure I did this retrospectively as well. Then I put another letter on it to indicate which dates in the future I thought they would have sex.

I also gave physical signals to her. I tried to make what would be normal mother-son love a bit more sexual. I would hold her tighter and kiss her passionately on the neck - both of them for longer than what might be normal. Ultimately, I would pull her on top of my bed sheets when she bade me good night and do this. She got wise to the trick, but I would pine for her and she rarely resisted.

As she became used to this, she asked me in a giggly way if this was what was known as "necking". I told her that I supposed it was and she seemed to respond properly in kind for the first time, kissing my neck passionately.

Some days after this incident, I became aware that my parents might make love again. I was reading as mum made her way to the bathroom. Dad went in after she left and I persuaded her into my arms. I had pulled her on top of me, our bedclothes and the sheets between us, and we 'necked' again.

I hoped she could understand the calendar close to us, but I doubted it. Nevertheless, the sexual tension was higher than ever. Mum was panting lightly this time as I kissed her neck ravenously and she was making nervous little jokes. I was sure she could feel my stiff cock under her belly, but I could hear dad getting out of the bath and I did not want him to see us like that. As he started cleaning his teeth, I came. I was silent, but I am sure mum felt my whole body stiffen and my penis spew out its load.

I quickly got her off me, knowing dad would not be long and she seemed disappointed. She swept aside my hair and kissed my forehead and cheeks lightly. In the hope that I might enjoy hearing her make love later - despite having come already - I told her that I was very tired and that I was going to switch off my light immediately. She then went into the bedroom. I switched off and seconds later dad came out of the bathroom.

The alarm clock on my bedside table said 11pm - just fifteen minutes later, mum initiated foreplay with him. I thought that was an indecently short space of time and I was very jealous of dad then, but I consoled myself that I may have contributed to her being so hot. I listened to them make love, but I could not get an erection quickly and I felt cheated.

In total, I heard mum and dad have sex about thirty times in three years, but then I think they stopped. A throw away remark from my mum gave me an inkling it might have been because dad could not get an erection any more. But it was not the last of my sexual encounters involving them.

I lost my viginity to my first proper girlfriend and I told her about hearing my parents. She was turned on by it and we had a great fantasy about us both listening to them and then joining in. That girlfriend liked older men and fancied my dad, so we both loved the idea, although it never became reality. What did happen was that we made love quite loudly in the room next to them and I hoped they could hear us, especially mum.

There were a couple of occasions after that - when I left home - that mum came to visit me. She stayed in a hotel once and when I was alone in the bedroom with her there, I could feel my stomach knotting with sexual tension, but I never did anything.

However, I made the second time count. She was to stay in my rented flat when my flatmate was away and I devised a plan to see her naked properly for the first time in my post-teenage life. Our bathroom door was old and had long vertical gashes in it where the wood had dried out. I knew that you could not see in through them easily or I would have insisted that it was replaced. The only way to look in was to press your eye to the holes, but then there was the possibility of discovery.

How to watch mum in there without her seeing me? I practiced during the day and night, placing an object close to the holes and then adopting various positions in the bathroom to see if I could see it. During the day or backlit with the corridor light, it was possible to see the object, but at night and with no back light, it was impossible. If mum was naked in there at night, I had my chance, but I also had to make sure that I did not step on any of the many creaky floorboards. I checked which ones I could step on safely.

My first chance to see her body came when she went to the toilet. I could see her as she sat urinating, which turned me on a bit, especially as it was so strange that she could not see me. However, her skirt covered everything above her knees. Was I always to be thwarted?

We had a good day out and about together, in which mum questioned my decision not to move into a flat, because it was near where my dirty-minded girlfriend lived with her husband. She made it clear to me that she did not like the woman and thought our relationship would not last, so it should not determine where I should live. She was right, but I also felt she was jealous.

That evening we went for a meal in a local restaurant and the waiter mistook mum and I for husband and wife. We laughed, but I could see that mum was flattered and I told her that we could be as she looked so young. She was a bit embarrassed, but did not say anything.

Then my chance came - she had to take a bath that night. I did not want to risk her seeing me as she got into the bath, but I thought I would be able to see her in it. How wrong I was. She sat with her back to me, so all I could see was her soaping her arms, and then her calves and feet as she lifted them. It was only as she got up to get out that my prayers were answered.

I could see her beautifully rounded backside and then her still-shapely breasts in profile. Then she turned to face the door and I could see her in her full glory. It was her dark, hairy bush that did most for me. I could not see inside it, but it was the promise of it that turned me on. Then I got a shock as she walked towards me.

I made it back to the chair in the lounge where I had been pretending to watch tv, when mum called out my name. I went to the door and she had it slightly open. She had forgotten her towel and wanted me to fetch it for her. I did so willingly, relieved that she had not caught me. But I did not have the bravery to suggest I wrap it around her, so I simply passed it through the gap between frame and door.

I pretended to return to the lounge, but watched mum dry and talc herself before putting on her pyjamas and bath robe. I had a raging hard-on, which I had to disguise by pulling my dressing gown tight against it when she came out of the bathroom. We both said perfunctory good nights and went to read in our separate beds, but then something odd happened that I still think about to this day.