I was 13 when my father remarried. His new wife was a nurse with four daughters and she lived in an old farmhouse that she and her previous husband had remodeled. The place was big to me, but it only had three bedrooms, the master and each of the other bedrooms housed two girls.

My dad had the attic refinished into a bedroom for me when I came to visit. It was insulated, he ran air and heat and had a big bay window built that looked out across the lawn at the small pond and the woods behind. It was decorated for me, and I was allowed to choose the bed cover and paint and decorations. It was a dream room.

Except for one thing, it was over the master. When I visited I could hear everything, the voices carried through the air vent and all the noises that went along with them as well. I would have to lay awake until they got tired of each other and would go to sleep. I had discovered how to masturbate and I would masturbate till the wee hours before falling asleep myself.

For me going to visit my dad, was about being able to masturbate, something I couldn't do at home. It never crossed my mind that if I could hear them, then they could hear me. I'm not sure just how quiet I was.