"That '90s Porno"
By J.D. Savanyu
I'll never forget that crazy March night in Syracuse, a month after my eighteenth birthday in 1990-something. I was sitting in the living room as usual, watching The Simpsons while my 23 year-old sister was home from college on spring break, listening to lame bubble gum pop on the radio waves. Our mother was out working the night shift as a nurse at Community General Hospital, and her deadbeat ex-husband had long since dropped off the face of the earth (which partly explains why their kids have serious "issues.")
That classic animated sitcom was still in its irreverent prime. The Simpsons was the only TV comedy with no annoying studio audience or canned laugh track, long before Larry David and The Office proved the viability of that "let the home viewers decide what's funny" concept in non-animated sitcoms. The best episode of the season was playing that night. The one where Bart skips school, but Principal Skinner tracks him down in a crazy FBI-style manhunt through Springfield. It ended hilariously ten minutes later, followed by a rerun of the X-Files. The one about a supernatural monster that attacks people who break the strict landscaping rules of a snooty gated community. Both of those shows were still awesome, but the writers were starting to get lazy.
I grabbed the remote and surfed across all 35 cable channels (ah, the good ol' days!) eventually hitting the six additional premium channels my family couldn't afford to subscribe to. HBO, Cinemax, Showtime, and The Movie Channel... along with two 'adult' options: Playboy and Spice. The Playboy Channel had lots of softcore movies and sexy game shows or whatever. Meanwhile, the Spice kitchen cooked up nothing but zesty hardcore. Sucking, fucking, spanking, and creamy facial treatments galore.
The pictures on Playboy and Spice were "scrambled," just like the five non-smut premium channels. You could still hear those hot bunny babes on the Playboy Channel moaning and groaning while pretending to have sex with ripped hunks, but the Spice Channel was also completely muted before it was beamed up to an orbiting satellite. Those gorgeous Spice starlets got fucked for real 24/7, but I couldn't hear them shouting something like "Harder, baby! Just like that!" and I could barely make out their big jiggling tits whenever I tuned in for a few fleeting minutes behind my mother's and sister's backs. It was like trying to find a naked woman in one of those "Magic Eye" puzzles that were popular in 1990-something.
The Playboy Channel was currently broadcasting the AVN awards in Las Vegas. Two hours of silicon-enhanced porn stars yakking about "erotic artistry" with no visual nudity whatsoever. A completely stupid waste of time, just like the Grammys and Emmys. So I hit the CH. UP button one more time... and my jaw dropped open in complete and utter shock. The Spice transmission system had somehow glitched the feed into unscrambled glory, with full stereo sound! My favorite busty redhead porn star Kylie Ireland was buck nekked on that little square CRT television screen, riding a huge cock on an outdoor cliffside patio, moaning theatrically in pre-HD analog glory!
"Holy shit! Holy shit! Holy
shit
!" I cheered madly, jumping for joy in front of the couch. "Are you fucking kidding me? Woo-
hoooo
!"
There's two big things you need to know to understand my jubilant "Powerball winner" reaction to unscrambled sex. First, I was a pathetic book geek wallflower with no love life whatsoever. Second, this happened before dial-up internet was widely available, when untasteful porn could only be purchased via the Spice Channel or at dingy "adult entertainment" stores in the worst part of town, far from the "respectable" neighborhood we lived in. (Or by mail from a printed catalog, but our uptight Catholic mother obviously wouldn't allow that.) I'd only caught a few brief glimpses of naked slutty vixens in the Swank and Cheri type magazines that a few rebellious students snuck into Bishop Grimes high school.
"What's wrong, Jake?" Becky shouted, bounding down the stairs. I was too excited to care if my sister knew I was watching hardcore porn. "Oh my
god
," she exclaimed, seeing Kylie getting freaky. "Is that..."
"The Spice Channel, somehow unscrambled! Free porn, sis!"
"Holy shit, indeed," she chortled, tossing her cute red pigtails. "Someone must have fallen asleep at the control panel, like Homer Simpson."
"Or maybe Homer is fucking some Spice skank on the control panel," I remarked. Kylie hopped off that big cock and shoved it in her mouth, performing energetic fellatio on a body builder who wore nothing but a 1960's-style fedora hat.
"God damn. I'm totally gonna sit down and watch this. It might get re-scrambled at any moment."
Becky plopped down on the couch, transfixed by the sexual spectacle. I laughed in awkward disbelief, but I knew she was far from the virginal princess Mom thought she was. I lost count of how many boyfriends that ginger hottie had in high school. She got a lot more action after graduation, while majoring in "communications" at Ohio State. Plenty of one-night dorm stands with sleazy Buckeyes. I sat down next to Becky, admiring Ireland's milky-white heart-shaped ass and trying like hell not to get a boner.
"Are you enjoying your blowjob, Handjob?" Kylie grunted.
"Fuck yeah, Miss Bond. I bet you blow all those other double agents down at MI6."
This was apparently a gender-flipping parody of vintage James Bond movies, turning James into Jamie and turning her nemesis Oddjob into Handjob. Kylie had better acting skills than most porn stars, so she was well-suited to the witty slutty spy role. I loved her bitchin' Irish attitude, with a bitchin' bod to match.
"Oh my god, that redhead is smokin' hot," Becky beamed.
"Totally," I murmured, watching her ass get smacked by Handjob. "If you got some breast implants and moved to Hollywood, you could be the next Kylie Ireland."
"No way, Jake," she giggled. "L.A. is a scary liberal hellhole, and I've heard too many horror stories about plastic surgeries gone wrong. Besides, my c-cups are fine just the way they are."
Much to my surprise, Becky took off her pink GUESS T-shirt, revealing her perky braless c-cups with pointy pink nipples.
"See?"
"Holy
shit
," I gasped, with my dick shooting right up to full mast.
"Damn right, boy," she giggled. "I bet these are the first pair of great tits you ever saw, in person."
"Uh... yeah," I murmured incredulously, with my eyes locked on her chest. "The first pair, great or otherwise."
"You're mamma's spoiled little virgin."
"You're mamma's spoiled little two-faced slut."
"Shut up, boy," she giggled, shoving me playfully on the couch. Meanwhile, Kylie hopped into a big bubbling hot tub with a great eagle's eye view of the San Fernando valley.
"Come on, Handjob. Fuck me
hard
, just like you fucked Octopussy," Kylie grunted, assuming the doggy-style position against the edge of the steaming whirlpool.
"Hell yeah, ya filthy Brit-bitch. You're on Her Majesty's Secret Service, but I'm on your
ass
."
He shoved that big dick through her anal sphincter, making her shriek in delight.
"Oooh yeah, that's some hot aquaphile action," Becky beamed. "But I'm not into butt stuff. I always take it up my pussy, like a real girl."
"Whatever floats your boat," I muttered distantly, distracted by Kylie's amazing wet ass. Glistening gloriously in the California sun, getting spanked repeatedly by a beefy third-rate parody of a cliché Bond villain.
"Fate gave us free porn, so we might as well get naked for it," Becky uttered naughtily. My heart nearly fluttered right out of my chest, and my dick nearly ripped right through the zipper.
"Are you fucking
serious
, sis?"
"Hell yeah, bro. I showed you my tits, so be a good sport and show me your pecker."
"Holy
fuck
," I chortled in complete incredulity. But her
c'est la vie
attitude was always highly contagious. Before I knew it, all of our clothes were strewn on the floor beneath that cheap-ass TV, on a cool March night in Central New York. I sighed in admiration at her red-haired pussy, and she sighed in admiration at my long twitching manhood.
"Nice dick, Jake. Such a waste to keep that all to yourself," she snickered.
"I'm waiting for my dream girl to come along."
"Fuck that 'dream girl' shit. You gotta grab the first
decent
girl you see, or else you'll be waiting forever."
"Whatever, you ginger skank," I grunted. "I don't want to end up like mom, getting ditched cold by some dead-end loser. Or being the one who does the ditching."
We fell into awkward silence, watching Jamie Bond getting fucked and spanked real good in a luxurious whirlpool that was big enough for ten porn stars. I loved the sound of Handjob's big strong hands whacking her pale soaked rump.
"Oh shit, you fuck me way better than Doctor No.
Yes, yes, yeeesss!
" Kylie shrieked.
"Oh my god, this hot tub scene is getting me so
hot
," Becky murmured throatily. Much to my surprise, she spread her legs and started masturbating right next to me!
"What are you
doing
, Becky?"
"What does it
look
like?" she moaned softly, working her clit in slow circles. "Don't act like a prude, boy. I know you've been jerking off every night to scrambled smut. I can hear those porn bitches moaning and groaning through the wall."
"You're fucking crazy, sis."
"It runs in the family, bro."
She kept rubbing her clit and finger-fucking her pussy, moaning in harmony with Kylie.
"Get my big cock back in your mouth, Jamie Bond," Handjob growled in the tub. "Nice and slow. I wanna make this 'interrogation session' last."
Kylie got down on her knees in the middle of the sloshing jacuzzi and fellated his huge evil member with her huge tits fully submerged. That "double feature" got me hornier and hornier, losing any sense of propriety. My right hand finally grabbed my throbbing penis, pumping up and down at a moderate pace.
"
There
you go, Jake. Feels great to let your freak flag fly, right?"
"Fuck yeah, Becky," I groaned at Kylie's pretty pale face on that little CRT screen. "You're just as hot as Kylie Ireland."
"I've been getting just as much dick as that porn bitch, at Ohio State," Becky beamed. "You better not tell mom, though."
"My lips are sealed, sis. Like a double agent with a dirty little secret."
My eyes darted back and forth between Becky's C-cups and Kylie's DDD's. My sister's vagina got wetter and wetter, and her moans got louder and louder.
"Oh shit, this is so fucking hot," she groaned. "I can't take it anymore. I want you to lick my pussy, Jake."
"Oh my
god
," I groaned toward the ceiling, drowning in desire and losing any sense of reason, just like her. "You can
not
be serious," I added, imitating John McEnroe's famous tennis meltdown.
"Come on, it'll be good practice for when you finally get a girlfriend."
"Holy
fuuuck
," I groaned, but my reluctance was just a thin veneer covering a boiling volcano of desire. "Oh, what the hell. I've always wanted to sample my slutty sister."
I dropped to my knees on the floor and spread her legs wider, staring right at her awesome twat, framed by a shock of red pubic hair. My rational mind urged me not to lick it, but my irrational limbic brain quickly won out. My tongue hit those salty pink folds, making her squeal just like Jamie Bond.
"Oh shit,
yes
! Eat that pussy real good, boy!"
I ran my tongue in slow flicking laps around her outer labia, surging with intense desire from all those female pheromones, enhanced by a ridiculous sense of danger. Mom's shift didn't end until two o'clock in the morning, but what if there was a gas leak or something at Community General Hospital, and she came home early? We'd be screwed six ways from Sunday.
"Come on, eat my pussy
