The bathroom door rattled and Connie's heart leaped. She quickly threw her robe over herself and stood up, tying her belt, then wiping off her fingers on her robe. She stood watching the door, expecting Billy to knock, then enter from the bathroom. Instead, she heard the lock click. He was locking the door from the inside so he could use the bathroom in privacy!

Connie felt a twinge of excitement. She'd never done anything like this before, but she couldn't help herself now. She tip-toed toward the door and knelt in front of it. Like the door that opened from the bathroom into Billy's room, this door had two locks. A deadbolt lock which could be turned only from the bathroom, and a key-lock under the door knob which could be used from the bedroom. Connie carefully slipped the key out of the lock, then peeked through the keyhole.

Billy sat on the toilet, stark naked. He was hunched forward, his elbow on his knee, his chin resting in his hand, looking like the statue of the Thinker. Connie heard a turd plop into the toilet and watched Billy wipe himself.

This is sick, she told herself. You're being disgusting, a pervert. But she kept her eye glued to the keyhole.

Billy stood up, scratching his balls. He milked his cock, letting a few drops of piss fall on the floor. He stepped in front of the mirror and lifted his arms, flexing his biceps. He hadn't a hair under his arms yet, although a small blond tuft sprouted on his groin. He ran his hands down his chest and belly, then played with his nipples. His cock throbbed up, pointing at the ceiling. He grabbed it and started to jerk it off.

Connie's head swam. Her heart slammed so loud she could hardly hear. She steadied herself against the doorframe with her left hand and shoved her right hand into her robe, between her legs. She slipped a finger inside herself and started beating off to the same rhythm as was her son.