If the virgin boy ever got a chance to fuck a girl, he wouldn't give a shit if he was twelfth in line in a gang-bang!

He studied the situation to make sure the premises were secure before doing the deed. He found that he was able to see into the bedroom windows of the house on either side, but only by standing and looking over the walls, so that no one could see him from either window once he was lying down on the mattress. And, besides, it was unlikely that the bedrooms would be occupied at that time of day, right after school got out, when Johnny was most desperate to cream.

He didn't give a thought to the attics of those nearby homes which, higher up, afforded a plain view over the walls of the tree house.

Deliriously happy with this fortunate find, Johnny lay down and pulled his formidable hard-on out and proceeded to toss himself off our times in rapid succession, enjoying the privacy and the comfort and not needing to care about how, much noise he made.

The pictures of naked women were a boon, as well, since he didn't dare keep a saucy magazine at home.

He gave silent thanks to Bill Evans, his athletic predecessor and the builder of that handy masturbatorium, to whose aged spunk-streaks Johnny added a plentiful supply.

After that first time, Johnny stopped at the tree house just about every day, on his way home from school, and arrived at his own home so satisfied that his snoopy mother wondered if the boy was ailing.

As much as Johnny enjoyed his daily visits to the tree house, Wanda Jarvis enjoyed them even more.

Wanda lived in one of the adjacent houses.

She was a voluptuous woman with jet black hair and an hourglass figure and a temperament to match.

As fate would have it, she was a voyeur, as well – and it was her lucky day as well as Johnny's.

Wanda was in her attic on the day that Johnny first found the tree house.