What Listening Could Lead to
Shady Lady Julie
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I stared at the crack in the ceiling with my arms folded across my breasts as the rhythmic banging continued against the wall behind my head. It was Saturday night and as always my parents were having sex, as they did every week, going at it as if they were still teenagers. It would start quietly enough and then I would find myself woken by the sound of the bedhead from my parent's room banging against the wall with increasing ferocity and frequency. Gently at first but then with increased tempo and vigour until finally, a muffled cry would signify the end of proceedings and the house fall silent again.
I knew full well what was going on next door as I had read the books and done the classes at school. In my younger years, I was concerned that they may be trying to create a little sister or brother for me as my mother would often remark how nice it would be for me to have a playmate. The reality was the thought of having a sibling 10 or more years younger than me sent my blood cold as it would make me nothing more than a cheap babysitter. It was only as I grew older that I learnt from whispered conversations that sex could be for recreation as well as procreation. Eventually, talk in the house stopped about babies and the stored baby furniture had long gone, but the banging never stopped, it still continued every Saturday night.
There was still the fear among the girls in my final year of school that if they let a boy go 'too far' and use his thing then they would fall pregnant and have to leave the school in shame like Mandy Smith did the previous year.
I couldn't help but stifle a silent giggle as I remembered how a few months ago in the girl's toilets, my best friend Kim Cox had talked about how to wank a boy off. Then using a small telescopic umbrella as a penis substitute she demonstrated the required movements. I was fascinated as I watched Kim's hand moving up and down as she breathlessly described how the boy would get hard and then moan a lot before his cock would spit white fluid everywhere. Kim had given me a stern warning that it was the white stuff, the sperm, that would make you pregnant if it got anywhere near your pussy and you should always wash your hands afterwards.
I did some further research into the subject by reading in the library and learned a lot about the clinical actions but none of them talked about pleasure. I did learn that Kim was wrong and you couldn't get pregnant from your hand touching your pussy but also scarily that a boy didn't need to penetrate you to get you pregnant, just get his thing close enough. That made me decide that it was best to keep my knickers firmly on, well at least until Mr Right came along.
As I listened to my parents reaching a climax I started to picture what was going on in the other room and without thought, my hands wandered down my body to the hem of my nightdress. As it suddenly felt that it had become too hot I pulled it up as I heard in my head my mother admonishing me that I should never touch myself down there as it was wrong. The heat coming from my body made me even more determined to touch myself down there, though I had no real idea where 'there' was.