Door to door (M/F, flash)
The Jehovah’s
Witnesses of porn.
Kenny pushed his straw colored bangs from his eyes and stuck a finger into the
collar of his shirt, trying to loosen his tie some. It was a hot July day; too
hot really, to be walking around in a suit, but he had to look respectable.
After taking a deep breath to calm himself, he headed for the door.
The knock sounded like thunder.
A young woman answered. She was wearing a gray business dress with jacket. Her
hair was tied back and her green eyes seemed to flick over him, measuring,
weighing him. She was slightly taller, even without the heals she was wearing.
The impression he got from her was that of a stern demanding woman, though her
frame was small and petite. Giving him a menacing look she said, “Your not a
Jehovah’s Witness are you?”
“Oh, no ma’am!”
“Are you selling anything?”
“No, no, ma’am.” He stuttered completely at a loss by her gruff and upfront
manner.
Her stern look melted into a smile, “Well then, what can I do for you?”
Taken aback by her, Kenny had completely lost his train of thought and had to
work hard to get back into the right mindset. “Well … I … you see…”,
taking another breath and pulling his leather bound book tight to his chest he
plowed on. “Well ma’am, I’m here today to talk to you about the enlightenment
and fulfillment you can receive through porn.”
“Excuse me?” She said raising her eyebrow a little and giving him that ‘you’ve
got to be kidding me’ turn of a smile.
“Yes ma’am. If you only give me a few minutes of your time I would like to
talk to you about porn.”
Giving a little laugh she moved to the side of the door and waved her arm
wide, “Please come in. This I’ve got to hear.”
“Thank you,” he said trying not to look too sheepish or nervous. The young
woman led him into the living room. It was nicely furnished with flours and
family photos. The couch, loveseat, and recliner were all facing the TV, which
was right in front of a large bay style window. As Kenny took a seat on the
pink, yellow, and off-white flower upholstered couch, he tried to think of the
best way to start. “My name is Kenny. Kenny Dartmouth. I’m with the Coalition
of Adult Writers.” He looked over to the woman sitting on the recliner,
watching him, to see if she was taking in everything okay; she smiled and
nodded.
“You see, we’re coming out, door to door, to help bring more acceptance and
awareness of adult writings. We’re making our stand for the First Amendment
and our rights to write. We feel that if people just get to know and see that
the writers out there are just like everyone else and not closet freaks or
anything like that, we’ll help enlighten our society.” Clearing his throat he
flipped open his book, to the bookmark and started reading, “Her thighs were
the white of purest milk, and he ached to touch them, to caress them, let his
lips float over them; a bee searching for the ripe wet petals calling,
awaiting, at journey’s end. As he pressed his rough fingertips to her skin he
felt the tingle of sensation – the magic and beauty of her in that one touch.
Her soft sigh caressed him like hands running gently over his body…”
“Excuse me,” Said the woman looking a little flustered as she unbuttoned her
jacket and loosened the first few buttons of her blouse, “but do you have a
point to this?”
“Oh! Oh yes.” He smiled and wiped a little sweat from his brow. “You see the
gentleness and purity in the words don’t you? The connection and emotions that
help bring us closer to nature.” A slight fanaticism burned across his
striking blue eyes. “Just let me read another passage and you’ll see what I
mean.” He flipped the pages franticly to another passage. “Ah, here it is …
The scent of rosewood hung in the misty air of the bath and a gentle splash of
water tickled the back of her neck. John took the rose from between his teeth
with one hand while cradling her leg with the other. Lisa knew that one of
John’s favorite things was bathing her, and she never complained because he
did it with such fashion and relish. His slow delicate kisses to the bottom of
her foot sent a cold thrill down her spine, despite being up to her neck in
warm water, as he let the rose peddles tickle carelessly up and down her
calf.”
The sudden tilt next to him pulled Kenny up short. The young woman was now
sitting next to him, almost too close for comfort. “Kenny dear,” she said,
“are you married?”
“Umm … no ma’am.” He was about to ask why, but her mouth was now covering
his. Her lips were soft and supple as her tongue probed carefully around his.
He was shocked. This woman, that he didn’t know from jack, was throwing
herself at him. ‘Still,’ he thought to himself, ‘this isn’t half bad.’
In a rush of clothes they were there naked on the floor. Her breast heaving
against his chest as she rode him. Her hands tight around his wrists, holding
his arms over his head, as she pleasured herself with his body. It was sweaty
thighs, chests heaving, nibbling and scratching – all the things that make sex
such a clash of flesh on flesh. But like all good things they have to come to
an end. Their orgasms were so close that no one could deny that they were
simultaneous: one driving the other into that blissful eternity, that tiny
collapse, that poignant death. They laid there for a few minutes, recovering
from their intimate interlude, before getting dressed.
When clothed it became a little awkward as the nameless young woman led Kenny
to the door. Straitening his tie as he left he looked back and the woman
smiled. “Why don’t you come by tomorrow: I may have some friends over that
would love to hear about enlightenment through porn.”
Kenny smiled back, “Yes ma’am. I’ll be sure to do that.” Pulling his book
tight to his chest he went off in search of others to spread his message to.