God. When I was a teenager, my bedroom was above my parents. I was ignorant of the fact that beating off with the vigor with which a teenager does would cause my bed to shake. My parents tried dropping subtle hints, to which I was still ignorant. Eventually, my dad just came in, turned on the lights, and demanded I give him whatever magazines he figured I must be using. That was fucking embarrassing. I didn’t have any magazines either, so that was just me, my dick, and some dirty teenage thoughts.
Another time I was rubbing one out in the bathroom (I had a magazine that time) and my mom knocked on the door. I told her I was crapping, figuring she’d leave. Well, I finished up, cleaned up the sink, put the Hustler under my shirt, and walked out. My mom was just standing there. The whole fucking time. Apparently she needed some Aloe Vera gel or a bandaid or some bullshit and just stood there. She asked me why I was “shaking” in there. I just told her I was crapping, but she asked why I kept running the water. I just got away from her.
On the flip side, I had a pretty dirty roommate. Dude had a huge porn collection, and sometimes he beat his dick so hard I thought he had a woman in his room he was taking from behind. Guess what, no woman. Anyways, I got a computer and he asked if I could show him how to get on the web (it was the mid 90s). I showed him, no problem. This computer was in my bedroom because I had nowhere else in the house to put it. So I’d come home from school or work and see my roommate on the computer sometimes. He was always looking at something like Magic The Gathering cards or looking up a movie or something. One day I used the history button and saw he’d been looking at shitloads of porn.
In my bedroom. On my chair. In sweatpants.
I let it slide a couple times, I don’t know why. Once I came home from work, and he came cruising out of my room. He had been delivering pizzas and acted like he’d just come home to take a shit. After he left, my other roommate told me he’d been in my room. I checked the internet history, and sure enough, it was full of porn.
He wasn’t crapping, he came home in the middle of a pizza delivery to look at porn on the
computer in my room.
At that point I decided this had gone way too far. A few days later I came home, he’s sitting in my room at my desk with sweatpants on, and tells me he’s looking at Magic cards online. I say “hey, you know what, let me show you a quick way to get back to sites you’ve already visited” and brought up the history right in front of him. Sure enough, he’d looked at solid anal and blowjob porn for the last twenty minutes, and I said “see look, if I want to go back to “slutty anal coeds” or “oreo blowjobs” I can just click here and go back.” I’d click on several sites, stare at his face as the site came up, and watched him shit himself.
His girlfriend also lived with us. He never went in my room again.
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