Chapter 4

I don’t know how long I thought about “Christy” before my mind came back to the here and now.

I realized I was lying on my bed with my stiff pecker in my hand. I wasn’t stroking it or anything. It was like I came back from some far off place where I had been thinking about all that stuff I recorded in the previous paragraphs.

The girl in the open magazine was some poor guy’s daughter. Probably because of how I felt about Hannah, I wanted to believe she also had a brother. And I also assumed that both men looked at these pictures just like I did, imagining her as a sexual being ... imagining fucking her.

This is the sort of thing that worms its way into your mind and convinces you, somehow, that you’re not alone ... you’re not so different after all ... and that thinking about fucking your sister might not be as crazy as it first seemed. I mean there are literally millions of pictures of naked daughters and sisters out there, so there must be at least hundreds of thousands of fathers and brothers who have seen them and wished they could fuck the girl in the picture.

Regardless of the logic (or lack of it) in that argument, when I saw Hannah the next day I was all worked up.

“I need to talk to you,” I said at breakfast. Mom and Dad were already gone to work.

“That sounds ominous,” she said.

“Why do you say that?”

“You announced that you need to talk to me, rather than just doing it,” she said.

“Something happened last night and it weirded me out,” I said.

“What?”

So I just showed her. I got the magazine and opened it to the pictures I’d been jerking off to the night before. I pointed to the open magazine.

“That girl is somebody’s daughter,” I said, dramatically.

She looked up at me.

“Duh,” she said.

“Maybe that girl is somebody’s sister,” I said, meaningfully.

“I doubt he took these pictures,” she said, trying to be cute.

“Hannah! Think about it! Look at her. She’s like, ‘Look at me, folks. See my pussy? It’s been fucked a bunch of times.’ And that means when her father or brother look at this they know that!”

“She could still be a virgin,” said Hannah. “Just because she takes her clothes off doesn’t mean she’s not a virgin.”

“I’m not explaining this very well,” I sighed. “What do you think of when you look at those pictures?”

She glanced at the magazine.

“I think of all the guys she went out with and wouldn’t do anything with, who are now going crazy because she posed like that.”

I blinked.

“That’s close,” I said. “I think what I meant was, doesn’t it make you want to be with her ... like this?”

“I’m not into girls, Bobby,” she said.

“I know that, but if you were a guy you’d want to be with her, right?”

“I’m not a guy, Bobby.” She grinned.

I lost it. Or got frustrated.

“Hannah!” I groaned. “What if her father or brother looks at this and wants the same thing I want?”

Now she blinked.

“Oh,” she said, her eyes going to the pictures and staying there. “You think that’s ever happened?”

“It has to have happened,” I groaned. “It probably happens a lot!”

“What’s your point, Bobby?” she asked, looking away from the nude woman lying on our kitchen table.

“My point is...” I stopped.

My point was that when I looked at pictures of her, just as I looked at pictures like were in the magazine, I thought about fucking her. But I couldn’t just say that.

“My point is that I don’t feel so alone anymore. I get it. She’s gorgeous, and she’s probably just as gorgeous to her brother as she is to me. That makes me feel better about how I feel about you.”

She looked at the pictures and then at me. Her face was oddly calm.

“So you want to do with me what you want to do with her.” Her voice was also oddly calm.

My face must have answered for me.

“Bobby, this is a lot different than just getting turned on by being naughty,” she said, softly.

“I know,” I said.

She sat there. I had no idea what she was thinking about. Suddenly she spoke.

“I saved up my allowance and got something at the triple N.”

“Nora’s Naughty Notions?” I asked.

“Yes. I think I need to have a lingerie shot in my portfolio, so I got something.”

“What is it?” I asked.

“Come with me,” she said.

I followed her to her bedroom and she went to her dresser. She opened a drawer and got out a flat bundle of yellow cloth. There wasn’t a lot of cloth there. She took it into the bathroom and it was quiet for a while. For some reason I imagined her getting naked in the bathroom. That’s the first time that happened. She’d changed in there dozens of times, but I’d never had this particular fantasy before.

She stepped out. It was hesitantly and I could tell she was nervous. I couldn’t think about that, though, because every ounce of my attention was on how she looked.

I don’t know what they call this kind of outfit but it consisted of three pieces. There was a filmy jacket that came down to her hips and just barely covered the panties she was wearing. The panties were darker than the jacket, sort of an apricot color. She had on a bra, too, the same color as the panties. Her hair was down and flowed down her back, with some of it draped over her shoulders. Her hair looked like a luminous copy of the apricot color, only different.

“So?” she asked softly.

“You look good,” I said. “Your legs look like they’re a mile long.” I have no idea why I said that. What I mean is that it wasn’t an intentional comment.

“Where do you want me?” she asked.

I thought it would probably be a mistake to say, “On the bed,” so I tried to think about it.

“It would look good outside, by some green stuff, but we can’t do that. The neighbors might see. The white background is too light. Are there any green sheets in the house?”

“Mom and Dad have a green flannel set,” she said. One of her chores was laundry, so she knew what everybody had in their drawers.

“Let’s try that.”

She went to the linen closet and came back with a flat, dark green sheet. We hung it up on her wall and she stood in front of it.

“That’s good, but too stiff,” I said. I looked around. Her vanity chair fit this outfit much better than it had Megan’s swim suit. I got it and took it over in front of the sheet.

She sat down, looking fairly prim. I had her move into five different positions before I finally decided on having her lean back with her arms on the arms of the chair, like she was just relaxing. Her head was up and she was looking at the camera when I took the first shot. She looked serious. What I thought about was that she looked like she was contemplating getting naked for the photographer, but hadn’t made up her mind yet about whether he deserved to see her that way or not.

I took a few more and then said, “There’s not a lot more we can do to show you off.”

“Yes there is,” she said.

She stood up and removed the jacket. Filmy as it was, it turned out that it covered a lot of detail.

Such as the fact that her dark brown areolas showed plainly through the thin fabric of the bra. And, in the front of the panties, which I could now see were of the thong variety, with a really thin front panel with the cord rising high on her hips, there was an equally obvious round dark spot. It looked odd, because it looked too high. She sat back down and assumed a pose very much like what she’d done in the swim suit. It wasn’t with the leg cocked over the arm of the chair. Her legs were straight and her heels maybe a foot and a half apart. Then she lay her head back.

“What do you think?” she asked.

“I think it’s too close to being porn,” I answered, honestly.

“Take some pictures,” she said.

“Hannah, I can see through things.”

“I know,” she said. “Take some pictures.”

I took some and we stopped to download. I pulled her shots up on the computer screen with her leaning over my shoulder. I could feel her breast pressing into the back of my shoulder.