Editing Diet Doomer

Growing up next door to a college girls dormitory proved to be a cornucopia of voyeuristic opportunity. This was back when Eisenhower was President and Elvis ruled the airwaves, and I was a horny adolescent of thirteen. I had been taught the art of masturbation a couple years earlier and enjoyed an introductory period of orgasms that produced no cum. I never missed getting that funny feeling and not shooting cum, I didn't know any different for a while.<br />
As time went by I began ejaculating and having to think ahead to what I was going to do with the mess I made. At that age masturbating was not a once a day practice, but more like once an hour. It seemed like any spare time I could find I was in my room or the bathroom jacking off. And it didn't take long either, no matter how many times I did it.<br />
Since my bedroom window faced about ten dorm rooms I would carefully peek hoping to catch a glimpse of a naked coed. I managed multiple sightings and became the popular destination for my buddies to spend the night. It was a time of great horniness when we were all horny to see a voluptuous college girl and jack off together.<br />
I also enjoyed assembling model cars and airplanes and had a large hobby table set up in my room. It was against the wall next to the window facing the dorm. I got into the practice of having paper towels or kleenex on the table and used them frequently to wipe up messes as well as catch my cum. I would also use underwear or sox if nothing else was handy, but I knew I shouldn't put crusty laundry in the hamper on a regular basis.<br />
So one day I was alone and jerking and started to cum without anything handy to catch it. In a panic I grabbed the curtains beside the window and launched a huge load into them. It was easy, convenient, and became a receptacle for cum lasting months. And using the curtains to catch my cum usually happened more than once a day.<br />
One day I was quietly sitting at the table painting one of the models and my mother walked in and took down the curtains. As she was walking out of the room she said: "I wish you wouldn't wipe your airplane glue on these curtains, they are stiff as a board." I was stunned.<br />
As I got older and thought about that day something occurred to me. Airplane glue doesn't wash out, it's not water soluble and it has a very distinctive odor. The possibility exists she may have known exactly what was making the curtains stiff and this was her way of telling me to use something else. I never did use them again.