Tutoring Miss Picket a Movie!

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Tutoring Miss Holley Picket — A Movie Starring Holi Orji

This is a follow on from the Tutoring Miss Holley Picket series. If you missed the first two, I highly recommend exiting and reading those first or at the very least read the ‘her POV’ second story version! This episode three version requires some background information to enjoy its contents.

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“Holley?” Dad’s voice stretched out my name into a complete sentence flushed with wonder as he saw my entrance through the front door. Undoubtedly it would have finished with the words, ‘what the H-e-double hockey sticks – are you doing in your mom’s outfit?’ were it not interrupted by Mom’s voice running over top of his raised voice.

“Don’t tell me, young lady, that you wore THAT to class, today?” Mom’s rapid-fire voice sounded like a burst of machine gun fire in one of Daddy’s old war videos.

To say that I hadn’t given a thought as to how they might react as Daisy Duke waltzed through the front door would be an understatement. I actually had not given it any thought at all. Four months of sharing my body with them in the basement had dulled my perceptions of how they might still consider me as being someone totally different above ground than in their fantasy world in the basement. Perhaps they just needed an epiphany moment to come to grips with reality.

At any rate, being spooned into the tight outfit, designed for Mom’s smaller frame, and doubly spooned into my Corvette’s cocoon enclosure had my circulation and breathing fighting one another for space. I began my explanation as I sucked in my stomach and popped open the button and ripped down the zipper with almost the same fluid motion as Johann this afternoon. Having room to breathe, now, left my peach exposed. That last item seemed to work in my favor as I watched Daddy’s eyes being held captive by my ludicrous, eye-candy exposure.

“No,” I began, “I wore my regular cloths, plus a bra, and panties as well for class to please my instructor. You guys remember he had a conniption fit over my nipples poking out through my tee shirt a week ago, right?”

Daddy’s head was nodding ‘yes’ so I know he remembered. Mom, well, she was a couple of steps ahead of him already.

“So … what’s that got to do with you dressing in my fantasy costume and parading out in public?” Her not quite warm voice interrogated me as though I were still a sixteen-year-old rather than an adult. Dad had already forgotten the reason we were having this discussion; I knew because I could see the rise in his tennis shorts. His attention was focused on my crotch and what was pooching out of those tight-fitting jean-shorts. Although the nipple patches did get some of their own attention as I tugged a strap to the left, just enough that half of a nipple came into view.

I was on the fly telling my story about today’s encounter for them. I hadn’t previously filled them in on any part of what transpired on my first day’s meeting with Mrs. Clara Fogerty. The idea of fabricating a major fib and making it believable would be damned near impossible. Mom was too sharp and would see quickly through that … so I told them exactly what happened.

Layer by layer, I peeled back the onion on my plot to seduce Doctor Johann Wolfgang Von Goethe and how that started with my interview of Clara. Clara’s updating me on what happened to my Johann precipitated everything that followed. The concocted plan to revive his love life [for my benefit of course] and make him whole again. I explained, briefly how I had to borrow Mom’s costume … and how that led to the mailbox encounter and to the subsequent afternoon tryst in Johann’s guest’s bedroom.

My recap on the three-hour tryst with Johann was short and sweet. It had, I related to them, left his bed a tangled and practically knotted wad of sheets, soaked in our perspiration and body fluids that lust generates during repeated orgasms for both of us. “We had fun, he liked it; I liked it; and he asked me to come back on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays,” I managed to get the three-hour description down to less than one-hundred words, hoping to put a little damper on mom’s burning fuse.

[I might have expanded a bit on those last details for Daddy’s benefit.]

“So … Mom I really wasn’t wearing your outfit out in the general public or at school. Just from Johann’s front door to my Corvette and from the driveway up six steps into our front door — that’s all the pubic might have seen. And I didn’t see anyone watching me as I came up the front steps.” [Well, I sure didn’t tell her about the delivery truck driver I flashed my ass to as he drove by Johann’s place. He did brake for a better look, though.]

I found it a bit ironic that I was having to defend my public exposure; it’s California after all! It irked me how Mom’s first thoughts went to how the neighbors might view my appearance in her outfit. Ironic gölbaşı escort too, that neither one of my parents so much as registered a word of disapproval about my afternoon tryst with a former teacher!

“Mom, if I’d changed at Johann’s home, obviously he would be asking why I had regular clothes in my bag and changed into them right after rutting around in his bed and why I met him at the mailbox with that smoldering image of Daisy Duke. He would have immediately known that I’d been playing him for … something I guess. And I was late coming home already and knew that you guys would be worrying about me, so I came straight home; like a good girl, Mom.”

She seemed to be taking the chain of events with a better attitude now than her first outburst having thought I was at school, ‘on public walk of shame view’. Her greatest worry seemed to be my being seen by the neighbors as I made my entrance into our home. I read her brow and that tiny dimple that always grew deeper when she was mad — well, it didn’t look too bad, now. Assessing that dimple was the moment I had an epiphany; a workable plan sprang into mind!

It was one of those pivotable moments in one’s life when everything freezes around you while your mind sees, with infinite clarity, all the answers in life for which you have been searching.

“Mom, do you remember the night you and Daddy found out I was no longer a virgin? That night in the basement when you two shared me like a double dipped ice cream cone?” I asked.


As I recall, it had been a very long night, fraught with numerous sexual firsts. It began when Mom, Dad, and I had the ‘talk’ after Mom had discovered that I had been ‘intimate’ with a boy; actually four boys by the time she discovered I had sex. The first one had been my BFF Jennie’s boyfriend, Charles Anderson, the 220-pound weightlifter, to whom I gave my virginity. That, I explained to my parents was really for my self-protection. I needed some leverage to keep the jocks from always trying to cop feels and coerce me into having gang sex with them — at least that’s how I spun the story. We skipped the last class period of the day and met to consummate our agreement. That covered the loss of my virginity when I rode him on the weight bench down in the boy’s weight room. In exchange for my pussy ride, Charles Anderson met three of the biggest football jocks after the Friday game and beat their asses. Let’s just say they lost big time even though it was three to one that late evening. They got my message — leave me alone, he told them.

The conversation, with my parents and I, had a different tone. The discussion wasn’t a ‘beat my ass if I continued screwing around’, or ‘my Daddy beating their asses for doing me’, or even a ‘grounding me for life’ conversation. It lacked the melodrama of some of my friends stories when their parents learned they were having sex. Mine were sensible and pragmatic, in that my parents explained how they met on an airline fight, fucked in the passengers’ cabin, and after they were married had group sex with a significant number of other men and women in our basement — my basement playroom! Thrown in was some significant advice about being prudent as to whom and as to where I chose to screw my peers. Which led to the idea that I should consider keeping my sexual education at home and experimentation there as well. It would be safe and unhindered from discovery out in the exposed world. Dad had spoken with conviction about that.

Familial safe sex education 201 began in the basement that evening they learned I wasn’t a virgin any longer as I watched my first video of how several couples could have sex together at the same time. The video included my parents! So … yeah my parents were very supportive and understanding of what I needed to be safe! I got the tame version of how sex should feel through my introduction of incestual pleasures with Mom and Dad instead of some inexperienced, backseat teenagers that didn’t know how to pleasure a girl at all.

The three of us were near exhaustion as we made our way up the basement stairs. It was after 4:00 AM. Mom was first on the stairs; then me; then Daddy followed steadying my gait with his hands cupping my ass cheeks as, like the three bears, we lumbered up the stairs to bed. By the time I reached the top landing, my legs gave out and Daddy scooped me up in those powerful arms. He walked the length of the house and gently lowered my cum covered body onto my bed and pulled up the covers. I was out like the light by the time he turned off the switch.

Well past 1:30 in the afternoon, I heard a light knock at my door and Mom entered carrying a tray containing: ibuprofen, juice, coffee, two danish rolls, a couple of mint chocolates, and something called the ‘morning after pill’. Struggling to sit up, my bedcovers slid down leaving my ladies to hang out. Mom saw the purplish bruises from the nipple clamps and a few finger marks Daddy’s keçiören escort hands had left in his over-exuberant massage of my breasts with his big oversized paws. Her lips pursed as she took in those bruises.

“Baby, I guess we got carried away this morning! I’m going to have to get after your Daddy for that! Here, let me see the rest of you,” she intoned much like a nurse would have inspected for other collateral damages. Her eyes scrutinized my tummy and ordered me to pull up my knees for further inspection. She seemed to hang fixated as she inspected my labia area for other signs of bruises.

“Does this hurt, baby?” she asked as her fingers traced my mons and scrolled around my rectum probing for any sign of tenderness — anyway, that what she said she was just doing.

“Nothing that feels really painful, Mom, just a little tenderness is all. The ibuprofen should help with that.” I answered as her fingers lingered a while longer probing for signs of other pain. There wasn’t any, but her fingertips were beginning to rekindle some of last nights pleasure sensors. I began to think that was what her intended goal was now that she was sitting next to my cunty. As she checked me out, I swallowed the pills with several gulps of orange juice. After the first gulp, I realized that I was really dehydrated and just chugged the remainder of the OJ non-stop. I felt the last gulp constrict in my throat, as my vaginal lips slammed shut at Mom’s final slippery exploration into my slit.

“Sorry, baby!” she cooed apologetically while reluctantly recovering my naked body. That little tell-tale smirk on her face was a clear sign that she relished that last foray into my peach. If I hadn’t been starving, I might have asked her to investigate for other sore spots, but hunger, food hunger, had my attention for the moment.

I started in on the danish rolls, drawing in the smell of hot coffee. A few sips of the mocha taste helped them slid down my throat. God this was good. No one had brought me breakfast in bed since — well I guess since I had the flu several years ago.

As I played wolf with the danish, Mom retrieved the remote from my bedside table and turned on the television. I watched the LED display flash to channel 69, not one of our usual channels, I noted wondering what was up with that. The display was the tail end of movie credits rolling up the screen with the words RUSH EDITS … below those was a credit line by itself, ‘Starring Holi Orji’. We barely had time to see those scroll hurriedly up and off the screen.

“Shoot! Missed the tape, but not to worry, your Daddy has it on a continuous loop so it will come back on again in a couple of minutes,” Mom announced, seeming to be a bit annoyed.

“Who is Holeye Orjeye, Mom?” I asked having only seen the name as it scrolled off the television screen. The name looked like a foreign film star kind of name, maybe Greek or Middle Eastern?

Mom smiled, “Oh! That’s your Daddy playing around. He’s pronouncing it, ‘Holley Orgy’, sugar!” with that, she bounced up off the bed and left. “Enjoy your breakfast baby, message me if you want more coffee!” got tossed in my direction as she scurried out the door.

“Holi Orji … Holley Orgy …,” then it hit me, Holley’s Orgy!” What the Fuck! Had my Daddy been making fun of my name and just made me into some porn star character? And what the fuck was up with Mom saying the movie would replay shortly?

I didn’t really have more time to think about what just happened. The video began to play; it was a rough interlacement of scenes, or rushes as Daddy’s movie industry friends call them. After Daddy left the airlines job he spent some time in Hollywood making movies with some guys, but after a few years, he retired. Daddy must have been busy this morning doing some rough edits of what he surreptitiously recorded from last night! I had no idea last night’s basement lessons were on camera!

I knew the camera mounts were motion sensor activated and could pick up and zoom in on moving objects. Dad had said those were for capturing anyone breaking into the studio and trying to steal our equipment. At least that was the story he told me. When I was little, he did all the family outings with hand held cameras. Once I was older, we recorded some plays that I had written for family entertainment but didn’t make use of the added equipment for family plays in the basement. The images I was watching now told me a whole different story!

The first scene was filled with a deep, wanton look on my face as my body bucked against Mom and Dad fingering my cunty. My eyes were clutched shut but my mouth was wide open as I lay splayed out, my body was meeting those probing fingers thrust for thrust. I was gasping for air as purely animalistic sounds groaned out of my mouth. At first, I had a hard time realizing that was my body between them being played so unladylike. It didn’t help when a picture-in-picture zoomed into view. ankara escort The large view had my splayed cunt being manipulated by Mom’s and Daddy’s hand and the PIP had Mom’s mouth latched on to my nipple while Daddy’s fingers tweaked the other one. I’d watched myself jill off in a mirror before, but this was so incredibly different to see myself frigging away and watch it from a detached view point.

I felt a shock wave roll over me as I sat up in bed. Clutching a danish in one hand, a half-consumed cup of coffee in the other, I felt my legs contracting. Mentally, I transferred the pistoling fingers going in and out of my on-screen cunt to my own fingers jilling myself in bed. The on-camera fingers moved faster and my on-camera voice grew to a higher pitch until it seized deep within my throat. At the same time, I saw my body rise up off the couch. My legs tightened arching my body upward in bed as I watched myself come on camera. It precipitated my actual coming in bed as the warm coffee spilled out of the cup and flowed beside me. My fingers were working their magic. The spilt coffee pooled under my ass as my body jerked matching the on-camera actions.

‘Shit! That was hot! Just like all those people fucking in our basement!’

I watched my inert body melt down and slide to the basement floor. A growing smirk crossed my face as I watched the part where I had fainted. Now, I saw what I had missed in that 3:00 AM fuck session as the video continued to roll on. Mom and Daddy were smiling as they undressed then knelt to remove my skirt and my top in short order. As I lay unconscious, the close up of the picture-in-picture window showed the whites of my eyes; my pupils had rolled up into my eye sockets. Sitting next to me, Mom stroked my body rolling her fingers around my mons while Daddy held his cock and rolled it around my lips. This went on until I came alive again, with a sweet smile spreading across my face. The film faded at the point where my mouth opened to receive the tip of Daddy’s bobbing prick.

I knew I was the only one in my bedroom, but I couldn’t help but comment. “Damn, that was so fucking hot, Daddy!” I gasped aloud, as I watched the credits roll and saw the title shot again.

‘Tutoring Miss Holley Picket’ … it read in bold letters.


Holi Orji

Then the screen went blank again.

I could see why Mom did a quick exit out my bedroom! She had already watched the scene at least once with Daddy, probably. If I came in bed, just watching myself come on the screen, I could fairly well image her reactions if she stayed with me watching it again. I knew where she would undoubtedly be – face down in coffee-soaked sheets lapping cream from between my thighs!

Those scenes had been some three months ago, but remain as fresh in my mind today as the first day, I saw them.

Holi Orji, an eighteen-year-old, lusty vixen my Daddy created, was born that evening. Her exploits were legendary in our basement. She was a never-ending source of pleasure for man and woman, [really just Mom and Daddy in different costumes, but lots of those!} She never needed batteries except in some robot scenes that re-energized Daddy after a massive neutron burst struck him in one episode that i wrote especially for cock sucking.]


As I sat in the living room, still getting the third-degree type of treatment about wearing the Daisy Duke outfit outside of the house, I had reached that epiphany moment. It was a true lightning strike of brilliance in the night sky kind of thought.

“Mom. Daddy. How would you like to do a real feature length movie of ‘Tutoring Holley Picket starring Holi Orji?’ I have an idea for the entire script!” I announced as I wiggled the Daisy Duke ass-tight jean-pants down a bit to give me more breathing room. Down to add some incentive for accepting my plan in Daddy’s eyes anyway.

Daddy turned to Mom, “Well, Holley is a gifted writer, honey. You know, Walter is still active in the movie industry down in Hollywood; he might be interested.” Daddy seemed to like my proposition as he soft petaled it to Mom.

Mom’s look was still on the doubtful side. I sensed that, but saw a break in that armor she was suited up in. Her gaze saw the grin on Daddy’s face and turned to read the jubilance shining on my smiling face as well. Another crack could be heard breaking in her armor as she responded, “Okay, sugar, what’s your idea … in a hundred words or less?” Mom spoke, just like a television gameshow host that pitches selling products to millionaires for financing their life dreams.

“Well, I’m thinking that it starts as a young girl pining for her high school teacher. She loses him when he retires. In the months following her eighteenth birthday she discovers sex. Then gets introduced to familial sex by her licentious parents. Later, unexpectedly, she finds her unrequited love again. She uses her wiles to seduce him and then he tutors her in the art of love. They fall for each other, marry, and live happily ever after. And the closing scene includes an underwater shot of them fucking in a glass bottom boat as they float down the Danube River! Was that less than one hundred words, Mom?” I grinned as I stepped out of the now very damp Daisy Duke jeans.

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