I was eleven. Jacking off in bed with the covers off fully exposed. Dad walked past my open bedroom door on the way to the bathroom down the hall. I didn't stop. Just kept my eyes closed. Don't think he saw me, until his way back. I heard footsteps stop. I continued to stroke slowy (eyes still shut) Then I heard my door quietly close and head him walk away.
The next day I found a brochure about puberty under my pillow. (which I thought was obvious i had already experienced) Days later, the only thing my dad said to me was. "I left a book under your pillow the other night. Maybe someday we can talk about it." Never have.
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