Glass Houses is a retelling of my first erotic story I post years ago on another site. To the best of my knowledge that version is no longer out there, but if this seems familiar, you might have run into it back then. All mistakes are mine. All people, places and institutions are made up, this story in no way reflects reality and any similarities to it are coincidental. Enjoy.
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Chapter 01
I folded the letter and slipped it into my shirt pocket. Misty, my wife of less than a year and I were heading to the bus stop to pick up my fourth or fifth cousin. I wasn't sure which removal was correct. All I knew for sure, was that I wasn't looking forward to having another mouth to feed, especially if it belonged to a religion spouting teenager.
My family had broken away from the Amish community generations ago, becoming Mennonites for a while, and drifting even farther as time passed. I didn't personally subscribe to any religious views, and liked my life free of those restraints. In fact, I'd left home at a young age to get away from a strict upbringing, ignoring my chance to go to college so nobody could tell me how to live. Then stubbornly refused to reconsider the choice, ignoring all of my parents pleas to do so. Eventually ignoring them altogether.
Now I'm the last Kauffman in my line, my parents having passed a little over two years ago in a car accident. I was thirty-two when it happened, and looking at the check handed to me by the insurance company, had only brought home the fact that I was alone. Suddenly I'd realized I had no family, no one that loved me or that I loved, and all the stubborn years I'd separated myself from them came crashing in on me.
I got the house, but it was an empty shell, a not so silent reminder that I'd been a stupid fool. I missed the smell of my mother's fresh bread and father's pipe, her laugh. I soon found myself avoiding it, eating out, even fast food. It wasn't until I met Misty and she began filling it with herself, her laugh, that I started feeling at home there again.
Three years ago, before life had smacked me and shown me how empty it could be, I would have probably tossed the letter in the trash. The plight of some supposedly distant relative's daughter wouldn't have interested me, but the shock of that empty house was still too fresh, so I'd read it, and we had sent the ticket.
Misty was intrigued and looking forward to getting to know Sarah, as well as being a little horrified that arranged marriages still took place anywhere in the States. The letter read like a script from a 20/20 segment. Sarah had put off going on rumspringa until the last year she was eligible according to the Bishop, spending a last couple years with her mother. Because when she returned, if she did, the servants expected her to marry one of them, a man old enough to be her grandfather that had already buried two wives.
I wasn't sure what she expected, other than a place to stay while she got acclimated to the real world. We had no idea what kind of education she had, or if she even spoke English. I knew they had programs back in Ohio and Pennsylvania that helped those that left, but we lived in California, where the only Amish I knew about were in Hollywood. I supposed we would help her get a GED if she needed one, and maybe go to a trade school. Or if I was real lucky, she'd go nuts and run off with the first guy that got in her pants, though I didn't voice that thought to Misty.
I knew I was in trouble the moment she stepped off the bus clutching the small leather suitcase. There was no mistaking her in the white bonnet and ankle length blue dress. She was breath-taking, at no more than five foot tall, she was just starting to blossom. Her hips getting a little flare to them, accentuated by a tiny waste and a chest just big enough to swell her top out a little. But her face, surrounded by a mass of cascading auburn hair that spilled from the bonnet and looked like it reached well below her shoulders, was angelic. There was a certain innocence in the sparkling eyes that lit up as Misty ran forward and gathered her into a hug, and God her smile, a Farrah Fawcett expanse of gleaming white teeth. It stopped me in my tracks.
I was still trying to pull myself together when Misty all but carried the girl over to where I stood. "This is your Uncle Sam," she told Sarah, grinning at the joke. "don't worry about him, he's a sweetheart. You'll have him wrapped around your little finger in no time."
I extended my hand, desperately trying to produce a welcome that didn't sound like it came from a drooling idiot when Sarah saved me by throwing her arms around me in a hug like Misty had given her. Surprised, I looked over her head at my wife, hoping she couldn't see how aware of the hard little breasts being pressed into my stomach I was, but she just laughed.
The little leather bag was Sarah's only one, so we loaded up in the pick-up and headed home, Misty grilling Sarah about the bus ride and playing with her hair, looking more than a little envious of the long auburn strands. I concentrated on the road, but was glad to hear Sarah answer her in perfectly normal English, though her O's seemed a little heavy.
I'd been working on the guest room at the far end of the house, with its attached bathroom since we'd sent off the ticket. But I also worked five ten-hour shifts a week as a lead millwright at the pulp plant, keeping miles of conveyor belts and oven chains together and moving. So the bathroom was a work in progress. In fact, it had been out of service for the last decade with a leaky pipe in the exterior wall, so I would have just put her in my old bedroom, except that Misty tended to get loud when we got busy and I didn't want anything cramping her style.
Sarah immediately got excited at the prospect of having her own bathroom, even if it only had a shower. So of course Misty promised that I would get it finished right away, earning us another of her brilliant smiles.
We settled into a surprisingly easy routine over the rest of that week, Sarah a lively and curious addition to our household, quick to laugh and affectionate to the point that I was constantly worried about Misty spotting my perpetual chubby when she was around. It was also clear that she had lived with almost no creature comforts. The bag she'd carried off the bus produced two more dresses, some under clothes and a journal stuffed with pressed flowers.
Appalled at this breach of basic feminine materialism, Misty immediately set out to rectify it. Dipping into our savings to redo Sarah's whole look. But having Sarah running around in short summer dresses and tight jeans or shorts, kept me from protesting. And I have to admit, seeing her throw herself into the growing pile of stuffed animals on her bed was very memorable.
I was left with my marching orders Saturday morning, while Misty and Sarah took off for a Hunger Games marathon at the old state theater, Misty happy to have an excuse to watch the movies again since Sarah hadn't seen any of them. My father had already located the suspect pipe and knocked a hole in the sheet rock. But instead of actually fixing it, he'd cut and capped it so he could turn the water back on, and then never got back to it. So the bathroom had spent the last ten years or so as a storage closet instead.
Misty and I had spent most of the previous Sunday cleaning it out and scrubbing down the fixtures, so I turned off the water main and cut the cap from the pipe to see if I had water in it to deal with, before going after parts and was happy to see that it was dry, so I wouldn't have any trouble sweating in a new section.
Then I noticed something that would prove the old adage about being careful what you wish for to me. There was a faint half circle of light in the back of the hole and without really thinking about it I poked it with my finger. Then felt kind of foolish when I saw the knot fall out of the cedar siding on the house leaving a hole about an inch in diameter in the wall. Swearing under my breath, I went out back to find it, adding glue to the list I was making.
One look at the hole from the outside though, stopped me in my tracks for a second time that week, my cock starting to swell, as I bent to put my eye to it. There in plain view was the shower that Sarah would be using as soon as I fixed it. It shook me, I could almost see her in there already, scrubbing her young nubile body and my heart started beating like I'd just run a mile. The little voice inside me that tried to say it was wrong to think about, was a very little voice and had no chance of robbing me of the opportunity.
Knowing I had to figure it out before they got home, I leaned against the wall and thought about what I needed to make it work. I had to fix the bath so the shower was usable and I had to hide the hole so nobody would notice it. 'Right,' I thought and with still shaky hands, I found the knot and held it back up by its hole, seeing that it would be a loose fit if I replaced it as is. Feeling like I had all of creation watching and judging me, I quickly retreated to the tool shed.
It took me a few seconds to get myself under control enough to concentrate and I couldn't help shaking my head as I realized that if just the possibility of spying on Sarah was going to effect me that much, actually seeing her in the shower might just kill me. Chuckling at the idea, I looked around the work shelf for a way to make the knot fit better. It was easy in the end, just a couple of wraps of masking tape gave it a snug fit. And as a last improvement, I drilled a small hole in the center, then ran a wood screw in for a handle. With the knot back in place I relaxed, knowing that if Misty and the girl came home before I got back from the store it wouldn't matter.
I needn't have worried though, because by the time they got home, I had the new section of pipe sweated in and was replacing the guts in the toilet tank. I'd replaced the shower head with a hand-held and hung a new clear plastic shower curtain that thankfully didn't draw any notice. Misty was a little upset to see the hole still in the sheet rock, but I explained that I didn't want to fix that until I was sure the patch had held for a couple of weeks and she let it go.
Sarah, who had chattered away about the movies since she came through the door let out a delighted squeal when she realized I was almost done, and hugged me from behind while I was still bent over the tank. This gave me an instant erection after the things I'd been thinking all day, so I took my time finishing so Misty wouldn't see my condition.
"I can't wait to try out my very own shower." I heard Sarah gush at my wife out in her room.
"You'll have to wait until after supper," I heard Misty tell her, "that was the deal, a day at the movies and you help me cook, remember?"
"No problem, I'll take one before bed." She agreed, costing me another ten minutes or so of stalling.
Supper was over and the dishes washed when Misty said she was beat and just wanted to go to bed early, Sarah jumped up from the tv and agreed with her. "I can't wait to try my shower anyway." She announced, practically skipping on her way to her room.
"I still have some stuff to put away out in the shed," I told Misty when she looked over to see if I was following her. "I'll join you in a bit."
"Okay," she said with a shrug and headed into the bedroom.
