Twice, I've been caught masturbating and was so deeply humiliated by those catching me, I broke down in tears. I was caught first by a 15-year-old neighbor boy and later, by a female tech sergeant(I'm male)in the military.
When I was a senior in high school, this neighbor kid caught me in the garage, masturbating in the front seat of our car. We discussed what he wanted to do about it. Then he pulled my underpants down and off, his price for not telling his folks and mine. The next day was a Sunday, and our youth group leader asked me to come to his office. There, Gary, the neighbor, described every detail of my sin. Masturbating was serious, especially when a senior and a leader got caught fondling himself. Then, the minister asked me if Gary's story was true. At that point, Gary produced my sticky white briefs and said, "I brought his panties!" I begged the two of them not to hang me out to dry, but even my tears didn't get me off the hook.
A few years later, I was a 23-year-old administrative officer at an air force base. It was Wednesday evening before Thanksgiving and things were shut down for a long weekend. A tech sergeant in our unit was retiring that Friday, and a party was being held in her honor at a bar in town. I brought fresh clothes to work, deciding to shower at the squadron and go party from there. The squadron headquarters were deserted --I thought--and after showering, I found prowling the darkened hallways and rooms in just my bikini briefs pretty hot. Then, Sergeant Farrel's car pulled into the lot. As I watched from a second-story office, I decided not dressing would add to the danger. She was loading her vehcicle from her ground floor office.
She seemed to be leaving, so I went down the hall toward my office and ended up on a couch and began masturbating. Within a few minutes, I was in the throes of a terrific orgasm, huffing and puffing, moaning and groaning. Then I realized someone was out in the unlit hall. I heard footsteps. I froze for what seemed like ten really quiet minutes, then I dashed to a window where I could see the empty parking lot.
So, I dressed and drove to the bar hell-bent, hoping I could throw myself on Sgt. Farrel's mercy before she reported me to any partygoers. I got there just as she did and after some agonizing minutes circulating and ordering drinks and dinners, I got her to meet me out in the parking lot. Turned out, she spent several minutes watching and listening to me masturbate. When I begged her not to tell, I started to cry. My turkey that Thanksgiving was well cooked.
When I was a senior in high school, this neighbor kid caught me in the garage, masturbating in the front seat of our car. We discussed what he wanted to do about it. Then he pulled my underpants down and off, his price for not telling his folks and mine. The next day was a Sunday, and our youth group leader asked me to come to his office. There, Gary, the neighbor, described every detail of my sin. Masturbating was serious, especially when a senior and a leader got caught fondling himself. Then, the minister asked me if Gary's story was true. At that point, Gary produced my sticky white briefs and said, "I brought his panties!" I begged the two of them not to hang me out to dry, but even my tears didn't get me off the hook.
A few years later, I was a 23-year-old administrative officer at an air force base. It was Wednesday evening before Thanksgiving and things were shut down for a long weekend. A tech sergeant in our unit was retiring that Friday, and a party was being held in her honor at a bar in town. I brought fresh clothes to work, deciding to shower at the squadron and go party from there. The squadron headquarters were deserted --I thought--and after showering, I found prowling the darkened hallways and rooms in just my bikini briefs pretty hot. Then, Sergeant Farrel's car pulled into the lot. As I watched from a second-story office, I decided not dressing would add to the danger. She was loading her vehcicle from her ground floor office.
She seemed to be leaving, so I went down the hall toward my office and ended up on a couch and began masturbating. Within a few minutes, I was in the throes of a terrific orgasm, huffing and puffing, moaning and groaning. Then I realized someone was out in the unlit hall. I heard footsteps. I froze for what seemed like ten really quiet minutes, then I dashed to a window where I could see the empty parking lot.
So, I dressed and drove to the bar hell-bent, hoping I could throw myself on Sgt. Farrel's mercy before she reported me to any partygoers. I got there just as she did and after some agonizing minutes circulating and ordering drinks and dinners, I got her to meet me out in the parking lot. Turned out, she spent several minutes watching and listening to me masturbate. When I begged her not to tell, I started to cry. My turkey that Thanksgiving was well cooked.
