Ben Weathers thought he knew what was making the noises from the moment he heard them coming from Stacy Miller's bedroom. The sound emerged through her door as he walked by it on his way to check out the ice dams on the Millers' roof. He had come as a favor to Stacy's dad Jeff, and let himself into the house with the key they kept under the watering can. Inside Stacy's room, a girl was crying out, "Oh God," in a strangled voice, and a man was grunting.
Eighteen-year-old Stacy Miller was watching porn.
But Ben's brain, focused on the roof, filed the knowledge that Stacy was a very naughty girl away in the back of his mind. It was only when, an hour later, he had cleared the ice dam and was walking back down the upstairs hall, and he heard a man's voice say "You like it in your butt, don't you?" that the urge to do something--though at that moment Ben wasn't sure what--came to him.
Part of him suspected he should just keep walking. The Millers were friends of Ben's parents from way back, and to use what he had just learned about their daughter to have the kind of fun Ben liked best might make for some uncomfortable times, down the road.
Part of him thought he should knock on Stacy's door and make up some excuse just to put the fear of God in her about watching porn at so high a volume. She was a good kid, and he didn't want to see her get into any trouble--or at least not trouble that he himself didn't cause.
But the largest part of Ben wanted to press the advantage, and barge in, and see if, as he suspected, Stacy were playing with herself. Ben saw no use in denying the desire, nor the hardness of his cock at the thought of how he could use the situation to make Stacy provide the sort of pleasure he liked best.
That part wanted to discover her with her hand between her legs, and to inform her that Ben Weathers knew what to do with naughty girls: to say sternly that he didn't believe in girls touching their private parts, let alone doing so while watching wicked videos. Then she would go over his knee, like it or not, for a long hard spanking: he owed that to Jeff Miller, didn't he? No father deserved a daughter who touched herself, and it would be better for Ben to take care of it himself, to spare Jeff the embarrassment and trouble.
And afterwards, of course, though perhaps Jeff wouldn't approve quite as much as he would approve of Ben spanking his lustful daughter, Ben would require of Stacy certain things with which she would clearly be familiar, from her porn-watching. Stacy would provide those things because she wouldn't want either to be spanked again or to have her viewing habits shared with her parents.
Ben felt real moral outrage as he thought of what Stacy must be doing in her room. He wasn't a prude--very, very far from it--but he believed very strongly in making sure that girls like Stacy learned to walk the straight and narrow path of society's standards. He thought himself very well-equipped to give young women the lessons they needed, and he didn't mind taking a great deal of erotic enjoyment for himself in the process. The lessons Ben gave involved teaching a wayward girl as much as possible about what an unscrupulous man might do, if he had her in his power, and he thus considered it his duty to portray that unscrupulous man as accurately as possible. He considered the pleasure he got from teaching this sort of lesson not only a fringe-benefit of the avocation to try to set girls on the path of virtue but also a sort of natural seal of approval on his activities: how could the severe punishments and thorough sexual use he gave them be wrong, if it felt so good for both Ben and the young woman he taught with his belt and his cock?
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