David Crane - Door to door teaser

She didn't expect to get horny this time.

But the seeds of perpetual horniness had already been sowed by all the depraved things she had witnessed. She had even wondered – and been horrified at herself – if she should offer to suck her father off, herself, to replace Wanda and keep it in the family, as it were. And having seen his huge hard prick, she did not find the idea unattractive – the fact that it would be incestuous only made it scan more thrilling.

She would never do a thing like that.

But she thought about it a lot.

Then, listening at her parents door, she got some answers – of sorts – and with those answers a whole new problem. "I'm glad she's gone," her mother had said.

"More prick for you now, huh?" said her father, laughing.

Sarah could hear her mother panting and she knew that he was playing with her cunt.

Then her mother had said, "Wait, Mike…"

"Yeah?" he grunted.

"I thought… wouldn't you like me to suck your cock for a change?" her mother had suggested.

There was a hollow silence.

Her mother said, "I thought… well, you seemed to enjoy it so much when Wanda sucked you off… I thought maybe you'd like me to do it for you, now, I don't mind, Mike. You could come in my mouth and I'd swallow it and everything, just like her."

"Irma!" Mike had gasped.

"Did I say something wrong?"

"How could you even suggest such a thing?"

"I thought you liked it."

"Irma, Irma, you misguided woman. Do you think I'm so depraved that I would let you, my own wife, suck my cock?"

"I don't see that."

"Let me tell you something," Mike had said with weary patience. "Cock sucking is a thing that sluts like Wanda do. That's why I had her as a mistress, so I could get sucked and screw her up the ass and things like that. Wives don't do things like that. Wives are pure and chaste and innocent. Wives lie on their backs and let their husbands get on top of them and have sex in a normal, natural, wholesome manner."

"Oh," said Irma in a small voice.

"Why, if you ever so much as had a lick of my dick, I'd divorce you," he had said.

"I won't, Mike! I'll never lick that all, I promise. I just wasn't thinking, I guess."

"In fact, I've been a bit worried about you lately, Irma. When I fuck you, you get very excited. It isn't seemly. Sometimes I think you even come, Irma. I mean, it's all right if you come once in a while if it just sort of sneaks up on you by accident and you can't help it. But you should try not to get so exited, really, dear. It's not seemly."

"I'm sorry," she had wailed.

"That's all women's liberation crap, demanding orgasms and suchlike. All crap. The only women who ought to have orgasms are sluts and libbers and lesbians… all of which are grounds for instant divorce, in my book."

"Yes, dear," said Irma meekly.

"And think of this." Mike was getting excited as he played with ideas, heaving them around like building blocks. "I have to kiss you! When I leave for work in the morning, I kiss you goodbye. When I get home, smack, I kiss you on the lips. Do you expect me to kiss a mouth that's had a cock in it? Huh? Think about that for a minute. Am I some sort of queer that I'm gonna kiss a mouth that's been swallowing cum? Let me tell you, Irma… I never kissed that filthy slut, Wanda, not one single time."

"I'm glad you explained it, dear."

"All right. Now you get on your back and open your legs and give me my marital rights… and for God's sake, try not to get so excited about it that you come. There's nothing more disgusting than some panting broad with a creaming cunt. You got a home to run, meals to cook, a daughter to raise. You can't go around thinking about having orgasms like some tramp!"

"Yes, dearest," his wife had said.

And Mike had mounted her and fucked her for a while and grunted a little as he came, and Irma was very careful not to make any sound at all. If she'd come, she kept it in her hat.

And Sarah, listening at the door to the one-sided sounds of this marital lovemaking, had figured it was a damn good thing that she had not asked her father if he wanted her to suck him off. He would have been scandalized!

Sarah had rubbed herself off where she stood, belly to the door. She didn't know about wives but she knew damn well that fourteen-year-old girls have to come plenty!

Sarah was impressionable.

Her father's words had affected her deeply. In one part of her mind – the rational part – she realized that it was nonsense and that he had the wrong idea about how a wife should behave in bed. But in some other, emotional part, the confused girl felt that she had to make a grave choice in the near future – that she had to be like her mother or like Wanda and that there was no transitional ground between the two.

The mental block went deep.

Sarah couldn't relax and enjoy sex in any way but the most prosaic – the missionary position.

She knew this was unfair to Jack – and to herself – but she couldn't help herself. She often tried to tell him what she wanted in the four-letter words of passion, but those words stuck in her throat – in that frustrated throat where a cock had never ventured. She often wanted to reach out for his cock but simply could riot, always waiting until he guided her hand.

She hoped she would grow out of it.

But so far she had showed no signs. Quite the opposite, in fact – the longer she lived with Jack and the better she got to know him, the more inhibited she felt in his presence. It would have been easier to relax with a stranger, she thought, but she wasn't the sort of girl who would find herself in bed with a stranger.

It was a vicious circle and it frustrated her every bit as much as it did Jack.

It was because of her past that Jack's words, said in anger, had stunned her so greatly as she stood at the door.

He'd said, "I think I'll pick up some agreeable trollop today. Maybe I can get my cock sucked for a change."

And even though she'd realized he wasn't serious but was only saying that to hurt her, a sudden image of Wanda had flashed into her mind. She stood there – frozen – and saw quite clearly an image of that lusty redhead sucking her father's dick.

Only it wasn't her father.

It was Jack.

And she imagined coming home from her charitable work – that charity work that she did to sublimate her sexual desires – and finding that Jack had moved another woman in to share their bed. Some brazen, foul-mouthed slut who would give him all the things that Sarah couldn't or wouldn't, sucking his dick and letting him dog-fuck her and bugger her ass and… The image shattered and her eyes filled with a rush of tears.

Then she'd rushed out.

She wanted to turn back to him, to smile and tell him that she had been wrong and, most of all, to begin making it up to him by milking his big dick in her mouth, but she couldn't do that and she'd rushed out, filled with horror at the thought that he might find another girl – that she might lose him to someone else, or have to share him, because of her self-imposed inadequacies.

My father was wrong! she thought. He wasn't even normal – bringing his mistress right into the house, having those bizarre ideas about how a wife should behave.

She stopped outside the apartment building, her face flushed. She closed her eyes and a struggle went on inside her head. She felt dizzy. Her mind trembled as the artillery of that combat thundered through her and the marching boots of the combatants tramped through her peace of mind.

And then the block shattered.

Sarah blinked, startled. Then she smiled.

She had done it! She had broken her own inhibitions by the effort of her willpower and the piercing light of her rational mind, aided by the fear that otherwise, she might loose Jack.