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I smiled. “Perfect.”
Five minutes later, I was walking out of the store with two of those cameras in my bag. I went straight home and hid them while Sienna was at school. One went into her bedroom and one in the bathroom. I was practically giddy as I laid in bed that night, wondering if I would catch her on camera riding her pillow.
It turned out that I did. She was such a dirty little girl, laying in bed at night and cupping her breasts before finally yanking up her nightgown and straddling her pillow. I was alone in my office at the church as I watched it, my cock so hard that it ached.
I couldn’t even wait long enough to get up and lock the door. I just had to hope that no one would try to come in the next five minutes.
The cameras picked up the sound of Sienna’s light moans as she got herself worked up, and I fumbled with my belt in my haste to get my cock out quickly with one hand as my eyes stayed glued to the screen of my phone.
I groaned as my hand wrapped around my cock. Electricity jolted through me as I stroked myself in time with the movements of her hips. Heat raced through my veins and pleasure sent me spiraling just as Sienna came to her own climax. I found my release shuddering as made a mess on my cassock.
It was wrong, and I knew it, but nothing had ever felt so satisfying. I felt like something significant was sliding into place, and I’d never be the same.
Now, a month had passed and jerking off to the sight of my daughter masturbating had become a part of my daily routine. I realized I didn’t have life figured out at all.
Chapter2
Sienna
“Idon’t know what you werethinking,” my mom hissed under her breath as I trudged along beside her at the grocery store. “The way that you were staring at those condoms…what if someone had seen?”
I sighed through my nose and tried not to let her figure out that I wasn’t listening. It wasn’t hard. Over the years, I’d gotten good at pretending I was paying attention to her when I wasn’t. It was necessary to get through every day living with her constant criticism.
“I mean, I just don’t understand why you have to embarrass me all the time. Can’t you just be a good girl?”
We were walking toward the checkouts as my mom went on and on, and I saw a familiar face. Janet Tucker was a member of the church. She’d been coming forever, always sitting in the third pew on the right side of the church, near the stained glass window depicting the three women that visited Jesus’ tomb to find it empty. My dad always liked to point out that window at Easter during his dramatic telling of the story.
He had a way with words when speaking to the congregation, putting just the right emotion into his voice to inspire the members of the church. He could be strict and uncompromising at home, but I understood why people like Janet looked up to him so much.
“Theresa,” Janet called out as she approached us. My mom immediately dropped her angry muttering and revealed a large fake smile.
“Janet, how are you? I hear your son was offered a football scholarship?”
She was warm and sweet with Janet, which just twisted the knife in my heart since she was berating me seconds ago. The two women fell into a conversation about things I didn’t care about at all. I knew that my mother would be angry if I dared to wonder away, so they left me with nothing to do other than try to tune them out. There was a shelf full of magazines nearby and my eyes landed on that, skimming over the various covers on display.
Nothing stood out to me until I spotted a man and woman on the cover of a magazine. It was shockingly provocative, with the man sitting in a high-back chair and the woman settled on his lap. She was wearing a short black dress, and one of the man’s hands was on her thigh while the other held her neck. They were both looking at the camera, and I was completely mesmerized by the looks on their faces. The man seemed turned on with a touch of anger. The look in the woman's eyes was heated as well, but there was fear there, too.
I couldn’t explain to myself why the sight of that fear would make my thighs clench, but it did. Something about combining desire with being a little afraid seemed exhilarating. Not that I knew anything about sex at all.
I was eighteen years old, but sometimes I felt like I was far behind my peers in that way. I’d grown up sheltered without even realizing it. It was only in the last couple of years that I saw just how far behind I was from my peers in terms of knowledge about things like sex.
There were two girls in my class that were pregnant, and I’d never even kissed a boy.
Everyone seemed to be crazy about dating, and most of my friends at school were sexually active. Of course, my mother had no idea about that. Both of my parents thought that I only hung around girls that fit into the mold that they found acceptable. What they didn’t seem to realize was that attending the weekly church service didn’t mean that Angie Carmichael or Sarah Faulkner were the sweet and innocent girls that my mother believed them to be.
They were my sexually active best friends. Angie had been dating her boyfriend for a year, and they already had plans to live together after graduation, without even getting married. Sarah, on the other hand, liked to sleep around with guys. I tried to talk her out of that, pointing out that fornication was forbidden in the bible, but she never listened.
Lately, I had wondered if it would really be so bad if I explored my sexuality as well. I knew what my father preached, but it seemed thateveryonewas sexually active. Could they all really be wrong?
Still, I was hesitant to do anything that I considered being wrong. I talked to Sarah about what I was feeling, and she was the one that recommended I try pleasing myself first. It seemed like the perfect way to explore my sexual urges without really breaking the rules.
So, I stared at the picture in the magazine, knowing already that it would be in my mind later as I rode my pillow. I had to look for sources of excitement wherever possible since my home permitted nothing erotic in any form.
I lost track of the conversation between my mother and Janet, so it was a particularly jarring feeling to have my mom pinch my arm hard enough to leave a bruise. I jumped, letting out a squeak as I looked back at her. Janet had turned away to wave at someone she knew, giving my mom the opportunity that she needed to get my attention. I could tell by the look in her eyes that she was angry.
Great.I was going to have to listen to another lecture.
“So, Sienna, how are you?” Janet asked.
