And I have a confession to make. Last week, on the morning of my eighteenth birthday, I started to come downstairs to get some water. But when I got to the top of the stairs, I saw something that stopped me in my tracks. I saw you looking at your phone, with your hand over the front of your pants. You were rubbing your cock…” My face turned red with embarrassment and I cringed when she said cock. “…I stopped at the top of the stairs and watched. You grabbed your cock and continued rubbing it. Then you unzipped your pants and threaded your cock out and started stroking it. I got really excited watching you masturbate. I watched your face as you came, and it was the hottest thing ever. After you left, I returned to my room, and I fingered myself to what I had just seen.” “I am so sorry you saw that.” I stammered. I didn’t know what else to say. I was embarrassed and angry, not sure whether to apologize more or to yell at her for spying. “Don’t apologize. I just wanted you to know that. ”“Sort of? What does that mean?”“When we were about 13 and in our last year of school, the schoolteacher thought we should all learn to dance a number of common ballroom dances. After we left school, both Mild and I worked in a grocery store, while Tom got a better job, or at least better potential paying job, starting as an errand boy in a drawing office.”“So you saw a lot more of Mildred than Tom did?”I nodded. “In a way, yes, but they still saw each other regularly and we all got on together well. They actually both attended evening classes together at Woolwich Technical College, Mild doing a secretarial course and Tom mechanical drawing, which balanced us up more time-wise as they shared the bus journeys both ways. I just worked extra hours at the store during those evenings, with my ambitions set on following my father into the Kent Constabulary, marking time until I reached twenty-one. But come the village dances every Saturday night, Mildred was mine for around eight out of ten.
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