**I hope you enjoy my dirty story. Many thanks to grammarotica guru Estragon, who edited gently, leaving me begging for more. If you enjoy this sort of story, tell me, and I'll write more adventures for this little darling**
Katie cracked open the door and listened carefully. The strange sounds of the McKinney house washed over her. What had seemed as first like silence was really many layers of soft sounds. A bathroom fan rattled somewhere far down the hall. Wheels whooshed outside on the street. The soft bong of a grandfather clock that told her it was three a.m. Was that what had wakened her?
She was a very light sleeper in the best of circumstances. But sleeping over at this particular friend's house had given her a case of restless legs. Lucy wasn't helping, either. She lay sprawled across a daybed inside her room, wrapped in the shared blanket she had stolen. At eighteen, the two were probably too old for sleep-overs, but Katie's parents had asked the McKinney family to see her to church in the morning in their absence.
Sighing, Katie wondered why they couldn't trust her to see herself to church. She would have stayed home and been good. But no, they did not believe in leaving her unsupervised. Ever. Though she'd never broken their rules, the treated her every day like a parolee with a high risk of reoffending.
The most ironic thing was that they had engaged the McKinneys to keep track of her. Only Katie knew they were not as straight-laced as they appeared.
Her parents had a very high opinion of the Mr. and Mrs. McKinney. They approved that Lucy and her brother Trent were enrolled in nice private Catholic schools. Mrs. McKinney was active in youth ministry and Mr. McKinney was one of the Knights of Columbus and well respected at church. He had the kind of serious, grave expression that made it seem he was really processing the lesson of the sermon, so of course Father Shannon favored him as well.
However, Katie knew someone in the house was a sinner. When she'd stayed the night last month, she'd found indisputable evidence.
Just like tonight, she'd been plagued by insomnia and had decided to wander the house. Prowling the strange house had given her a surge of adrenaline. After some time ghosting around, she'd begun to feel curious about this apparently perfect family. She'd found herself going through the bathroom cabinets and the contents of the roll top desk. She found picture after picture of Mr. and Mrs. McKinney engaged in wholesome activities. Mrs. McKinney was really quite pretty, if you liked the doe-eyed Madonna look. Mr. McKinney looked like a throwback to a 1970's cop show. He was swarthy with gaunt cheeks. His eyes were dark and serious, as was the full mustache that rested atop his upper lip.
At first Katie had thought that mustache beyond ridiculous. It was the antithesis of cool; more than a few of the girls at church had joked about putting his name in for a make-over show. One of their friends, Ava, had said it was romantic. "Mrs. McKinney probably loves it that he looks exactly like he did the day they met. At least he doesn't have a pot belly like Mr. Sullivan!" The girls had all giggled nervously, looking around to make sure none of the Sisters were within hearing range.
It was taped under the DVD player she found the contraband. It was a DVD, unmarked but for some Chinese characters. At least she thought that's what they were. But why someone going to such trouble to hide it? There must be a good reason. She burned with curiosity.
It had taken some time to gather her courage. She moved to the television in the den and inserted the DVD. With the volume off and door closed, Katie had witnessed the most shocking spectacle of her life. It was a home-made movie, apparently taken overseas. A Caucasian man she didn't recognize was surrounded by a bevy of young Chinese women. They were all pretty, all with long hair and compact bodies. She wished she could hear what he was saying. Whatever it was had the women nodding and smiling. They dropped their tops, baring naked breasts. They did some giggling and began to touch one another, tweaking nipples and jiggling their modest tops at the man wielding the camera. Soon his hand was in the picture, large and hairy knuckled. His dark grip swallowed their brown tipped breasts. He seemed to favor two of the four, alternating his attention and urging them closer. Soon the two women were entwined, kissing in an open-mouthed way that shocked Katie to her core. They were so wild, their tongues striking and retreating like dueling snakes. Just the act of kissing was so...savage.
Katie had always viewed sex with some trepidation. It had seemed so embarrassing. Really, she was just supposed to lie there while her husband jammed something between her legs? Certainly she had never felt the need to experiment with the boys that she only infrequently found herself exposed to. Her parents expected her to remain pure, and really Kate had never considered defying them.
But watching that video made her start to feel things. Like her skin was suddenly too tight. Like her insides were going all liquid. She squirmed, felt her breathing hitch as the watched the two women be stripped by the others, revealing themselves to be slim hipped and hairless. Was that odd, wondered Katie? She herself had a thatch of dark hair covering her lady parts. Was she supposed to shave it along with her armpits every day? She wondered if Lucy shaved hers.
Now the women were focused on the cameraman. They overwhelmed him, pushing him down on some kind of shabby couch. His drawstring pants were drawn down and two women seemed to fight about who would be the one to service him. Their eager hands revealed his member, stroking until it was tall and straining.
Again, a first for Katie. She had a rough idea how the male anatomy looked, but she'd certainly never seen an engorged penis like this. It was ugly. And appealing. She could understand the urgency of the women as they pawed him. She approved when one of the women thrust her turgid nipple into the man's face. She thought she would die of excitement when the boldest of the ladies dropped her rosebud mouth to his manhood and began to—
A sound. A door opening upstairs. She lunged for the DVD player, stopping the scene. She ejected it, cringing at the perceived loudness. Frozen in place, she tracked the progress of the person moving about upstairs as they visited the restroom and flushed the toilet. Water ran, and then the steps retreated back down the hall. Though she knew it was probably Lucy's little brother, she still felt paralyzed by fear that someone might find her alone in the den, dirty movie clutched in her hands.
A few minutes later she was confident she was the only one awake in the house. She wanted desperately to watch more of the movie, but the worry of being caught was overwhelming. For sure she couldn't go back to Lucy's room with her body so super sensitive like this. She was liable to rub up against her friend improperly. She had to DO something or she really felt she'd be permanently damaged. The frantic feeling was taking over. Was this what pornography was supposed to do? Make a person feel like every nerve in their body was smoldering?
For the first time in her young life, she let her hand creep down and press against her wet nether parts. But she didn't know how to press and the clumsy touching just made her feel more unsatisfied.
To her left she saw a pillow. Without pausing to think about her impulse, she grabbed it and rolled it up. Holding it firmly to the carpet, she clambered on top of it until her vagina was fitted against the seam of the decorative square. Another pillow hit the ground and she lay her head atop it, hands fisted beneath her. In her mind she pictured the movie. Pictured the pink tongues of the women flicking over the man's vein-stippled erection . She flexed her hips, pleasure washing over her. Now she thought of the women touching each other and of the man watching. Each idea was so bad, so forbidden, that it drove her to increase her rhythm. Soon she was thrusting, humping wildly. A warm gush of feeling swamped her. A mewling sound escaped. Oh god. Oh god.
Afraid to clean herself up, afraid to do anything but rush the DVD back into the hiding place and toss the pillows back on the floral tapestry couch, she sneaked back upstairs. She slipped back into bed with Lucy just as the first rays of sunlight stroked the sky. And slept like a baby.
It had been impossible to get those images out of her mind. She dreamed them. She sketched them, and then burned the evidence in the fireplace. She found herself inspecting the crotch area of men in the parish and wondering if each of them had a jutting penis like the man in the movie, and if every married woman became accustomed to taking it into her mouth.
And...she wanted to try it.
How awful! This was surely the path to hell. But the more she tried to repress it, the more the visions surfaced involuntarily. Soon she was obsessing about who in the household owned that movie.
