The witching hour

The witching hour, the time when all the good people are asleep, yet there is a secret world that most will never see. You don’t have to live in the underbelly of society to find it, all you have to do is open your eyes. One man’s filth is another man’s fetish. How deep will you fall tonight?

The house is quiet tonight. Too quiet to sleep. She had tossed and turned for the last two hours, her body tangling in the sheets. It felt like she was being strangled in blankets. Pent up frustrations were getting the better of her. A very sexually active woman, she was on a dry spell. A month. What the fuck, a month without satisfaction was taking a toll on the young girl.

As though she was sinning, her eyes scanned the room, making sure the door to her bedroom was locked. Flipping on her laptop, the first search for porn brought her to the edge of temptation. Chewing her bottom lip nervously, she typed into the search bar the topic of first-time sex. God, was she a freak? She wanted to see if it was real or just something faked. The first two clips were staged. The girl begged to be fucked. She thought back to her first time. Begging for it was the last thing she wanted. She begged for mercy from the pain, not the pleasure. The third video was where she hit the jackpot. It was real.

“Fuck,” whispering, she slowly pushed down the tiny pair of white cotton panties she wore. No one would ever know. It’s wasn’t like the world was clean from sin. Hell, there had to be a million people in the world doing the same thing she was right at this very moment, right? Of course, there was.

In the darkness of her bedroom, the only light came from the laptop. She muted the sounds as to not alert anyone else. That was silly, she was the only one home. There is a guilt in masturbation. A feeling as though you do it because you can’t get anyone else. That wasn’t the truth. At times, you just need to indulge in self-satisfaction.

The picture of the screen was of a girl about her age. Innocent, and her voice dripping a sugar that would lead a man to sell his soul for just a little taste. Dark hair, olive skin, and eyes the color of the ocean. She was striking in beauty and had the body that could send a world to war just to return home to her. That little nymph was soon going to learn a lesson when playing with fire. You never share something so sacred for a price. Never!

Moans, but not from the laptop, they were hers. She was getting wet from seeing this girl on the edge of enlightenment. The beat of her heart playing in her head, she moved her fingers to massage her swollen lips. She was already seeping sweet honey from her pussy, the crack of her ass slick with an essence of lust. A gentle moan, there was no doubting the girl in the movie had just lost her precious virginity. The male, who honestly didn’t matter, the tip of his cock dripped with secretions and blood. God, did people know how erotic it was to see someone go from girl to woman?

Porn isn’t something she would normally watch, but tonight, the heat of her body called out to the forbidden. With her back arched, her legs opened wide. A foot on either side of the bed. The cool air in the room on her wet pussy lips sent a wave of shivers up her spine. She would not find satisfaction until that tight hole stretched open to take her fingers inside. “Fuck, you’re a dirty little bitch,” whispering, she wasn’t speaking about herself. The girl on the screen who screamed from penetrating thrusts was the one she focused on. Her fingers curling inside of her, stretching them as far as her walls would allow. Two slender fingers inside of her tight cunt and she felt utterly full.

“Jesus, fuck,” such a pretty mouth spouting such dirty words. Her upbringing would never allow for the crudeness of her words. Her fingers trembling as she plunged to new depths. Even her heartbeat shattered the silence of the room. Could she be caught? No, of course not. Not a soul was home. Right? The fear was real. Not that she would be caught in the throes of masturbation, but that her choice of pornographic movies could be seen as taboo.

Panning to the screen, the girl now sucking her own crimson nectar from his cock, a trickle of his cum seeped from her pussy. She had been fucked and came in. Once the perfect young lady, she was now a taudry little whore. The perfect end to the loss of innocence.

Her hand pulled out, saturated to her wrist, one slap over her swollen lips and the room would now be painted with her screams. Pain can be an addiction, a craving, and a drug. Another slap, this time to her clit, and a fountain of cum sprayed from her pussy, it resembled a drinking fountain turned to on. Her walls convulsed as she came, the bed now pooling in female ejaculation. She was squirting for the first time, and this brought out screams that she never heard before. This girl became almost animalistic in her sounds, shocking even herself to the point she covered her mouth to muffle the cries.

There is a difference between being fucked and cumming, and causing it yourself. She loved being with a man, but at times, there was nothing like screaming your own name.

“Sometimes serendipity is just intention unmasked.”

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