The Mouths of Babes

**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.

It had to be Mr. McKinney, didn't it? Trent was too young. Lucy was Lucy, possibly more innocent than Katie. Mrs. McKinney was too busy thinking about low-fat lasagna and lessons for bible study. Mr. McKinney was the only possiblity.

She watched him from afar. He was always at church, seemingly engaged in the message. But did his gaze linger on the prettier young girls in the parish? Did his mustache twitch a little when the priest lectured about the dangers of letting lust into their lives?

Yes. He was not like the others. He was some kind of primitive man. The kind that needed more than what a single, prairie-skirt-wearing wife could provide.

At night she dreamed of him. She dreamed he wanted her, pursued her. She dreamed he touched her breasts and lower. Always with light, teasing caresses. Was there something wrong with her? A devil that needed to be exorcised?

When her father announced she would be staying the night again, she wanted to howl in protest and scream in anticipation. Would the movie still be there? Did she have the nerve to risk discovery by watching it again?

No. She didn't. She acknowledged this to herself over dinner, as she watched Mr. and Mrs. McKinney exchange normal family conversation across the table. Mr. McKinney barely looked at her, seemingly unimpressed by her dark, glossy hair and creamy skin. He called her Kelly without thinking. Mrs. McKinney, of course, corrected him, smiling at Katie with her satisfied, pink-lipped smile.

Was she smiling like that because she knew the secrets of pleasing a man like Mr. McKinney? Was she accepting of his imperfections out in the world because at night she was his sexual servant? Katie fought back waves of jealousy. She wanted to know what went on behind closed doors.

So now she was back, at the scene of her limited sex education. Alone again, contemplating a trip to the den, knowing it would be folly.

But this time she was not satisfied to merely skulk around the McKinney house in her jammies. She felt a deep need to up the stakes. She shed the penguin printed fleece pajama pants she'd been wearing, leaving nothing but a pair of pink string bikini panties on her bottom half. How wicked! The cold air on her thighs drove her into a state of hyper-awareness. Her belly prickled too, exposed by the abbreviated t-shirt she'd chosen. It was blue and worn, revealing a large slice of her tummy.

Barefoot and silent, she moved through the house. A faint sound surprised her. She plastered herself to the wall and listened. Yes, a noise. Was it...talking? Oh gosh, were their people awake in the house?

Her first instinct was to run back the direction she came and burrow under the covers with Lucy. But the sounds didn't sound like talking. And her damnably curious mind was urging her to investigate. She crept down the stairs until she could make out a line of light under the closed door of the den.

Someone was in there. Watching the video. No, surely not. But what else would a family member be watching secretly? She moved closer, wishing she could see who was in there through the door panel. Was it Trent? That would be so gross. The last thing she wanted to see was a kid like Trent with his wang out.

A lightening bolt of excitement zagged through her as she realized it might be Mr. McKinney. She had to see. Had to.

The door was closed, but she knew that it would open silently if she turned the knob fully and pushed. It was like an invisible hand took a hold of her and pushed her over the threshold. She was inside.

The movie was playing on the 60 inch screen. It was almost the same part she had seen, with the women touching one another and preening for the man's attention. But she didn't immediately see anyone in the room watching. The inhabitant could only be on the couch, stretched out flat. Probably touching themselves the way people did to these videos.

Her vagina contracted almost painfully, tightening and relaxing in two quick squeezes that almost made Katie gasp aloud. She felt a bond with the unknown person in the room. Like her, they were bad. Unnatural sinners, aroused by pornography.

She drew into the room, shutting the door behind her. Turning over the lock. Wondering why the person inside hadn't thought to bar the door. She paused, waiting for her courage to desert her. No, the devil on her shoulder was far more vocal than the angel. She moved toward the couch.

Her first glimpse of him nearly brought her to her knees. He was propped against the arm of the sofa, one leg on the couch and the other braced on the floor. He was shirtless, wearing only sweat pants that said "World's Greatest Dad" down the leg in yellow lettering. But they were pulled down, and his hand was gripping a glorious hard-on. Stroking, without much hurry.

Her mouth went dry. It was an impressive penis. That was a weird word. What else was it called? She'd heard 'cock' before, but it was almost to mortifying to think. However, it seemed fitting. Only a cock could be this arrogant looking. This long and curved and pinkish brownish purple. She did not wonder why Mr. McKinney had left on the light, he had much to be proud of.

He didn't notice her for long minutes, just continued to tend to himself. How he could not feel her standing at the foot of the couch, she had no idea. Her every pore on her body was on high alert. She could practically taste his light perspiration in the air. He was watched the television, baring his teeth a little as he watched the women begin licking the man's penis with long laps.

Finally he saw her. "FUCK!" He jumped, his soft exclamation sounding thunderous in the small room. "What are you...Kelly?"

"It's Katie," she managed to correct him, unable to take her eyes off him as he snapped his pants back over his rod.

"What are you doing down here?" He scrambled for the remote, stuffed someplace in the couch cushions.

"Don't!" Katie exclaimed. "Uh, just don't okay?"

He looked at her like she was crazy. "Look, just get out of here! You shouldn't be down here." He threw up his hands, apparently exasperated with the missing remote. The movie still played -- and he had the volume on. Just a little, but she could hear the Cantonese chatter of the orgy girls who were now fully involved in pleasuring the man. He had propped his camera up on some shelf and the view was from above. The man was relaxed, accepting the worship comfortably.

She ripped her eyes from it and back to Mr. McKinney, who looked ready to pull out his hair. He had gained his feet but his pants were tented hugely. He used a forearm to cover the turgid line of his erection.

"Why do you watch this?" Katie asked. "Don't you have a wife upstairs that you can make love to if you want to?"

Mr. McKinney was like a scratchy recording, "You need to go. If my wife came down right now it would look really bad. Go."

Katie was indignant, "If she comes down it's because you are raising your voice! None of this is my fault. In fact, you ought to be nice to me, so that I don't scream for help."

He sputtered, "No, don't do that. Jesus H. Christ, don't do that."

"Well, I don't want to," Katie confided. "But I don't want to leave yet. I'm...curious."

"You need to leave. This is stupid. I love my wife."

She snorted, "Obviously not that much, if you'd prefer to watch this smut rather than be with her." She was glad to see that his hard-on hadn't gone down one bit during the exchange. She thrust her shoulders back, popped her rear so that he could see that she wasn't that different looking than the girls on screen.

"It's not like that. A man has needs. It doesn't have anything to do with loving one's wife. It's a natural function."

Katie was delighted by this defense. "I think so, too! I've been thinking about it, and I really believe that physical urges come from God. He wouldn't have given them to us if he didn't intend for us to use them. I...I want to know how it feels."

"How what feels?" Mr. McKinney asked, wild-eyed. He found a pillow and used it to shield his straining member.

Katie nodded toward the television, "To be like those girls. To give a man like you pleasure." She blushed furiously.

Mr. McKinney staggered back a step. "Look, this is just a movie. Yes, I shouldn't have been...enjoying it, but that's a damn site different that fooling around with my daughter's friend, in my own house, right under my wife's nose!"

Katie shrugged. "If anyone knew we were together like this, half dressed and watching your pornography, they'd damn you anyway. So, why not be damned for something you did, rather than something you just wanted to do?" It sounded very logical to her. They were already here, already allowing themselves to think forbidden thoughts. Father Shannon said that sinful thoughts were just as bad as sinful actions.

"I'm leaving," said Mr. McKinney, moving toward the locked door.

Katie did not want him to go. All the same, she was surprised by her own voice that announced, "If you do I'll start screaming and tell everyone you tried to rape me."

He froze. "That is a very serious accusation, young lady. You wouldn't really do that. I know you're a good girl. You wouldn't do that to a man just because he-"

She moved closer until she could grab a corner of his shielding pillow, tugged it free. "I know you have lust in your heart, Mr. McKinney. I do, too. I just want to see what it feels like, to touch a man. This is the only opportunity I've ever had, maybe the only one I ever will have. I just want...to do things to you. All you have to do is let me."

He was breathing fast, almost hyper-ventilating. "This is wrong. I know it's wrong. I love my wife." But he allowed himself to be pulled back to the couch by Katie's gentle hand on his wrist. He sat down heavily and stared dully ahead.

"Don't look like that, Mr. McKinney!" Katie pleaded. "The man in the movie enjoys having all those women touching him. Don't you think you can enjoy my touch?" He shook his head, mute, staring straight ahead.

Not really knowing what to do, Katie sat beside him on the couch. They watched some of the movie. Girls were crawling over the man like ants, urgently sucking and biting with their mouths and fighting for their turn with his hands and mouths. The man had his fingers buried in one of the woman and she was making sounds like a mama sea lion. Katie was surprised so many fingers could fit up such a small lady, and that she was so clearly enjoying it.

She cast a look at Mr. McKinney. He had his hands fisted, but the front of his pants still showed evidence of his desire. Timidly, she reached over. Touched it through the fabric. She felt it jump under her awkward petting. She couldn't believe how this small act affected her. Suddenly her private parts felt heavy distended.