Miss Moore was my home room teacher in the seventh grade, and she also taught English. She was twenty eight years old and was unmarried, although I'm sure that she had received many proposals, because she was slender and beautiful. She had dark hair, and at school she always dressed conservatively. Still, one could see her bare calves and lower arms, which were so perfectly shaped that one could imagine, as I did, that she was perfect all over. She had modest breasts, and when she wore a jacket over her blouse, one could not detect any sign of them. Her face was so pretty, so lovely, yet one could discern strength in it. She knew what teaching was all about, and she was devoted to her job, her profession. Miss Moore did not tolerate any disorder or horse play in her classroom. Usually her stern demeanor was sufficient to maintain order. But when a situation got out of hand, she could be subtly, yet effectively punishing. Once, when I repeatedly disrupted the class with stupid observations about what we were studying, Miss Moore came over to me, placed her hand on my head and told me gently to calm down and to behave. What my classmates didn't know was that she pulled on my hair with her fingers and caused me a great deal of pain.
When I was half way through the seventh grade, I masturbated for the first time. I was then twelve, going on thirteen. We all remember that first time. For me it was unintended. I lay in the bathtub and played with my cock, soaping it and pulling on it with my fingers. It felt so good doing that. I continued until my little pecker erupted with a sting and enormous pleasure. I cried out in surprise, which caused my mom to bang on the bathroom door and inquire if there were a problem. I yelled that I had burned myself with the hot water. I knew about jacking off. Half of the guys in my class were doing it and talking about it. I sat in the tepid water and looked at the white globules of my semen floating in front of me. I washed out the tub after the bath, destroying any evidence of my sin.
It was one of the worst snowstorms ever to hit Kingston. The snow was up to the window sills and all the roads were closed so I could not possibly make it to my classes at high school.
When Dad divorced Mom, he received the family residence, and Mom took two small rental houses. She rented one out, while she and I lived in the other. Our house had all electric heat and no facility for burning wood. With the electric power off because of the snowstorm, the house temperature went down to fifteen degrees. My teeth were chattering so loudly that they sounded like a machine gun.
Mom pulled the electric blanket off of her bed and dug a feather bedcover out of the closet. After she put it on her bed, she suggested that I crawl in the bed with her as I probably would be too cold alone in my own bed. In as much as we had gotten up only to observe the snow, neither of us were dressed. I threw my bath robe on Mom's bed and climbed under the feather bedcover with her. My teeth stopped chattering once I became warm, and I soon drifted off to sleep. When I was awaken by a wonderful feeling. As I became fully aware of my surroundings, I felt my mother's warm hand inside my pajamas, fondling my hard cock.
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