Most Unclean
Tyler Knight
Winter 2010
Winter 2010
The sofa. Scene of the crime for my last transgression. This time, I’m dressed like a teenager fucking with the PS3 controller. The girl walks in.
This one looks like a cartoon character that let a box of ACME Dynamite explode in her face. Skin blacker than mine, hair going every-which-way. Her body is insane though. It’s like a group of teenaged boys watched the movie Weird Science and made their own babe machine. They pressed all the right buttons to make the tits and the ass but went upstairs to answer the door for the pizza man, leaving the contraption to map out the face for itself.
She says, “I’m so glad Mommy and daddy left us alone! You’re the best little brother a girl could ever hope for!”
This is all fucking kinds of wrong.
“Yeah,” I say. “Thanks.”
Big sister straddles my lap. “I always get soooo jealous when you fuck your dates in Mommy and Daddy’s bed. I think about all the naughty things you’re doing and it makes my little pussy sooo wet.” She is grinding.
I look across the room to Velvet Jesus. I’ll get no help there. “You’re not going to tell on me, are you?” I mumble.
Sis slides off the sofa and kneels in front of me. “Oh no, brother. I would never do that! If we make a deal that is.”
I can’t do this! Christ, business is slow and I only did four scenes in the past month. Do I really want to turn down the cash and piss off my agent?
She unzips my pants and takes out my dick. This time, I’m soft as marshmallows.
All I have to do is just sit here and lay back. That’s it.
“Gee, sister. I dunno. This is sooo naughty! What if Mommy and Daddy find out?” I say.
She is stroking me. “I won’t tell if you don’t.” And takes me into her mouth.
I purse my lips together, shut my eyes and exhale.
I’m standing in line to make a withdrawal from my mental wank-bank. I add extra zeroes and big-titted, dumb blondes on the withdrawal slip under “sum”.
Her lips are vacuum-sealing my shaft and her tongue whorls around.
Still flipping through my mental images. Girls I’ve fucked in the past or met while out and about.
Not this one bad attitude and too needy. Not her, boyfriend likes to watch. Oh wait, what about this gir-
The room dissolves away and there is no sofa, and no Velvet Jesus. Only my imaginary VIVID contract girl Savana Samson’s mouth and my cock.
I don’t last long.
“Cut! Excellent, we got it.”
The car. Upshifting onto the 101 freeway with a series of clicks, I put the accelerator through the floor.
Pink shorts. Meaty ass. Tits. Hands on her neck. Heart slamming against my sternum like a vice cop kicking down a meth-lab door.
My pants grow tight and uncomfortable, I reach inside to adjust. Disgusted with myself.
I am not thinking about the wet mouth with the hot breath and the soft tongue on my crotch.
And failing at it.
What am I?
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