4 Male Masturbating Music
I turned up what I called male-masturbating background music on the stereo and left Tom alone in the dining room with a glass cup and the syringe in dim light with the door closed. The dog tried to get in, sniffing at the door.
“Shadow, come here.”
I undid the bed, propped some pillows for my back, some for my behind. My baby making book said to recline on my back for twenty minutes with knees up, once I’ve inserted the sperm.
Tom came in, looking anxious.
“It’s not working. You’re going to have to help me.”
“We said no touching. You can do it. Don’t be afraid. Go back in there,” I said, sounding like a boxing coach. Tom obeyed. No magazine, no videos. Just Tom and his imagination and probably years of experience, in my dining room on a hard, straight-backed chair.