I was 14 and it felt that I was one large walking hormone. My voice was squeaking and I could not be more clumsy if I tried. It seemed as if all I thought about were girls and masturbating, a practice that I now engaged in at least three to four times per day. After my mother caught me playing with myself for the third time she decided that I needed to spend some time with Aunt Joan. I really did not know what this entailed. Aunt Joan was my mother’s best friend however she and her husband John lived on a very secluded ranch in California. I remembered that she had a daughter, Betsy, who was a...
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