Chapter 1

Fawn was happy to be alone. Her roommate Kelley took a night-school class every Wednesday night, and for Fawn the chance to be by herself was a pleasure she looked forward to each week. Sometimes Jeff would come over while Kelley was gone, and Fawn would tease him, dance half-naked in front of him, finally coax him into fucking her in the bathtub, or under the kitchen table, anywhere to break the monotony of the bed. But this week Jeff was out of town on a business conference, and all in all it was just as well with Fawn. She liked being alone once in awhile and had little opportunity for it.

She and Jeff had been going together for nearly a year now, and though she seemed to like him as much as ever, and though the sex was still pretty good as long as she spiced it up by inventing new places to do it in, she couldn't help feeling a little stale and weary about the whole thing. Maybe his absence for a week would inject some kind of new intensity into their relationship. Though frankly, she said to herself, I really don't miss him all that much. Tonight I'm just going to enjoy the peace and quiet. I'm going to take a long bath, and wash my hair, and maybe sip a glass of wine and watch TV a little.

As soon as Kelley had gone, Fawn had slipped out of her clothes and into her bathrobe, then fixed herself a leisurely dinner. After eating, she went into the bathroom and started the tub water, and while she waited for the tub to fill she piled her thick auburn hair on top of her head and placed a shower hat over it. She did this because she liked each thing to be separate-- first the bath, then the hair washing, then the relaxing glass of wine. She enjoyed luxuriating in the tub without her hair becoming all wet and stringy and cold, clinging to her bare shoulders, making her head heavy.

When the shower hat was in place, she took off her robe and looked down at her body. One of the reasons she enjoyed being alone so much was that it gave her enough time and privacy to examine her naked body closely. At other times, Kelley's presence, even if the bathroom door was locked, somehow made her nervous, self-conscious, as if it were somehow wrong or even filthy to touch your own nipples or run a tender, tickling finger along the moist folds of your own cunt. She was afraid she might shudder or moan softly, and Kelley would overhear her. Not that she ever masturbated anymore, since she had no need for that. What with Jeff balling her silly three or four times a week, she never felt the need to make herself come.

All she really wanted was the chance to look at and touch her own naked body in total privacy, to be proud of it without having to explain her pride, to investigate the sweet succulent mysteries that made men, all men, crave her so much, that made Jeff, for instance, groan and sob and twitch with passion from the moment he touched her bare flesh to the moment he popped and flooded her hungry pussy with seed. So now that she had the chance, she wasn't going to waste it.

While the hot water crashed into the bathtub, she took a hand mirror and stood with it before the full-length mirror on the back of the bathroom door. She knew she was lucky to have such a beautiful body. At twenty-two years old, her flesh was taut and ripe and smooth. Her skin tanned easily, richly, and since she knew that the contrast between tanned and untanned skin was somehow bewitchingly sexy, she always kept her body golden and coppery except where her bikini panties and bra protected it from the sun. There her skin was pate and creamy, marvelously white and tempting, her firm high buttocks two lovely glowing moons below the incurved sweep of her long bronze back, her young uptilted breasts two creamy globes of firm fleshy fruit thrusting out above a velvety expanse of flat golden midriff. She also knew she had extraordinary nipples, large and inviting ones, the aureoles wide circles that were tinged a deep rose and that swelled up puffily off her breasts like soft, faintly stippled cones, the centers thick springy nubs that pushed out even further.

She stood before the mirror frontways, sideways, backways, admiring the full perky curve of her taut ass, the supple tapering of her narrow waist, her firm round breasts, just the right size, the long nipples swollen and pointing. She ran a hand lightly down the silken skin of her stomach and dipped a finger playfully into the deep puckered cup of her navel. Every time she touched her navel she couldn't help remembering her first lover, a boy back in high school, who once in a hot sweat of desire had been kissing her stomach, going down it slowly and lovingly on his way to her cunt, which he was in the habit of tonguing and sucking into spasms of delirious joy. But this time, when he reached her navel with his tongue he began to stab and tongue-fuck it too, going at it so passionately that before either of them knew it he was coming, squirting warm slimy semen all over her leg and the sheet. Not every girl can make a man come with only her bellybutton, she giggled to herself.

She ran her hands proudly over the smooth swell of her hips, down to the firm flesh of her tawny thighs, and dug her fingers gently into their ripe resilience, watching her tanned skin shimmer under each fingertip, feeling a tiny wince of pleasure as all the nerves of her legs responded. She planted her feet wide apart, bending her knees slightly, and slipped the hand-mirror between her spread thighs. On one side the mirror gave back a normal reflection, but on the other side, the side she used, it magnified everything enormously. With delight and fascination, she gazed down at the huge furry-fringed pink-lipped slash of her own cunt. The folds of her vulva were dewy and moist, but only half-blossomed, revealing only tantalizing hints of the slick fiery-red inner cuntmeat they protected. The small nerve-bundle of her clitoris was still half-hidden beneath its pinkish hood.

Fawn inserted one forefinger--which instantly became gigantic as its reflection appeared in the hand-mirror--slowly between the lips of her cunt, parting them further, sliding the finger all the way into the warm greasy depths of her sensitive channel until it was stopped by the last knuckle. Her knees trembling involuntarily, she rotated the finger, and with her thumb rapidly rubbed her clit until it swelled and pulsed. "Ohhhnnn!" she gasped.

It felt so good! It felt so good to be doing it herself, and watching it at the same time, especially since the magnifying mirror made it look like the cunt of a giantess being probed by a monstrous hand, and yet she felt all the tingling sensations herself. She shut her eyes, whimpering softly, then opened them again and gazed down once more at the sight. Her cunt was juicing and blossoming readily now, and she could get two fingers fully into it, but her other hand shook so badly, her breath came so fast, that she could hardly hold her position or keep the hand mirror in place. Hastily, she placed it flat on the floor and squatted over it, digging softly in her flowing pussy with two hands now, shivering uncontrollably, noticing her glazed eyes in the door mirror, surprised to see her long nipples tight and erect. Oh god, I think I'll do it! I think I'll do it, I'm going to do it! "Ahhnnn... anngghh..." she heard the sounds coming from her throat.

Her whole body flushed and melting with hot tremors, her mind reeling happily, urgently with the decision she had made to bring herself off, to make herself come right here, like this, where she could watch it all, if she could only keep her feverishly fluttering eyelids open, she at first didn't notice the water on the floor. But suddenly her bare knees felt wet, shocking her out of the giddy sexual delights that poured through her. Then the water poured over the mirror itself, and she gasped, and turned her head, and saw it spilling rapidly over the edge of the tub.

Oh shit... oh goddamn it! "SHIT!" she shouted, hearing her voice echo against the tile walls even over the loud whoosh of the spilling water. Quickly she jumped to her feet and shut off the faucets, yanked up the plug. But it was already too late. The floor of the bathroom was submerged in water.

Gritting her teeth, her eyes filling briefly with angry tears at her own foolishness, Fawn snatched towels from every available rack and began mopping up the mess. She wrung out the wet towels over the emptying tub, then sopped up more water, so angry and busy at the task that at first she failed to hear the doorbell. Then, when it rang again, and she finally heard it, she only grew angrier. "GODDAMN IT!" she shrieked.

She flung the wet towels to the floor and headed for the front door, finding herself halfway down the hall before she noticed that she was still totally naked. She leapt back to the bathroom for her robe, slipped into it, then tried to control her fast breath and her rage as she walked down the hall again to the door.

"Oh, it's only you," she sighed irritably, finding her brother Eric there when she opened it.

Ordinarily Eric would have made a quick joke to relieve her irritation. But the look on his face said that he felt even more down than she did at the moment. "Only me," he said. "Can I come in?"

"You can if you're good with a mop," she said, closing the door behind him.

But Eric was so distracted he didn't seem to hear her. He stalked into the living room, nervous, jumpy. "Have you got anything to drink around here?"

"I think there's some Scotch in the kitchen. And maybe some wine." Fawn pulled off the shower hat and shook her thick mane of hair back over her shoulders, knowing now it would be a while until she got to her bath.

"I'll take the Scotch."

"What's the matter, Eric?" With him following her, she went into the kitchen and poured him his drink, which he grabbed and gulped thirstily.

"Danika," he growled. "She's been... making it with another guy. For nearly two months. But I only found out about it tonight."

"Oh no." With instinctive sympathy for her brother, Fawn reached out a hand and stroked his forehead tenderly. "Oh, Eric, I'm sorry."

Eric gave a bleak shrug. He drained his glass and handed it back to her, and she refilled it with the pale golden liquor. "Aren't you going to have one with me?" he asked. "You don't want me to get drunk all alone, do you?" He gave her a forlorn wink, pretending toughness to mask his misery.

"I don't want you to get drunk at all." But as she looked into his eyes and saw the pain there, and then thought of her own foolishness moments ago in the bathroom, she was very tempted to join him. Not to get drunk, but just to have a few drinks and forget about everything for a little while. Help him forget. She know he probably wanted to talk about what a bitch his wife Danika was to do this to him, and she wouldn't have any trouble agreeing with him there. Long ago she had suspected something like this would happen, for her woman's instincts told her that Danika was a prick-happy little flirt who could never be happy with only one man at a time. Danika was a small dark-haired girl with flashing eyes, long natural eyelashes, lovely high cheekbones, a full sensual mouth, and a sexual aura that filled any room she came into with mysterious, murky invitations. For her small size she had a beautifully curvaceous body, and stunning long legs, and from the beginning Fawn had thought Eric was in for trouble in marrying her. Now that Danika had finally gone and betrayed him, maybe it was time for Fawn to play straight with her brother. She would try not to say 'I told you so, ' but it wouldn't hurt to listen, to give him some support, and it would get her mind off that silly fiasco she'd been performing in the bathroom.

"Come on," Eric joked again, winking through his sadness. "What kind of party is it with only one drunk?"

Fawn smirked at him. "Why not." She took a glass from the cupboard and filled it with ice and Scotch, then clinked it against his and drank.

They took the bottle with them into the living room and sat down, Fawn on the sofa, Eric in one of the easy chairs, and he began predictably to tell her about Danika's bitchiness, how she had not only been fucking around behind his back, but doing it with one of his best friends. He launched into a long, morose, bitter, increasingly tipsy tirade, and Fawn listened dutifully, drinking along with him and nodding at the right moments. The Scotch made her warm and tingly, but as time wore on she began to wish that her bathrobe was made out of some other fabric than satin, because it was so slippery. It was hard enough to keep the skirts over her thighs and knees, but even worse was the constantly loosening sash. Whenever she moved it loosened more, and her firm outthrusting breasts pushed against the front part of the robe until the neck-lapels were gaping wider and wider, revealing more and more of her smooth tanned upper chest.

Her feelings were complicated even more by the delicious sensation of the cool slippery satin against her warm, tingling skin, rasping softly across her sensitive nipples, rustling smoothly against the skin of her inner thighs when she modestly tucked it there. She contemplated making an excuse and getting up to change, but it felt so good and she was so warm and tingly, she really couldn't decide. In front of her brother she felt very modest, but at the same time remarkably relaxed, especially since he was so obsessed by his wife's betrayal of him that he hardly paid Fawn the slightest attention.

After a while, as Eric droned on and on about Danika's infidelities, Fawn didn't really hear him anymore. Instead she simply stared at him, feeling pleasantly giddy and warm, and soon fell into a sort of trance in which she found herself dreamily remembering herself and her brother as kids, as teenagers, swimming, laughing, dancing, playing tennis together, dating each other's friends. The warm, happy feelings and images bubbled through her, and she yielded to them totally. It all seemed so long ago.

She recalled one time when she was sixteen and had lost her skimpy bikini bra while diving into the family swimming pool. Embarrassed and panicky, she had surfaced squealing, splashing, searching for it, but Eric, laughing outrageously, had jumped into the pool and scooped it up before she could reach it. Still laughing, he had climbed out and sat on the edge of the pool, dangling it from one hand, refusing to return it until she emerged half-naked from the pool, her arms crossed nervously over her bare young breasts. She could still recall the look in his eyes as he boldly tried to peak through the angles of her elbows and forearms for a glimpse of her nipples. And it gave her a sharp butterfly tickle in the pit of her stomach to remember how, just before snatching the bra back from his extended hand, she had flung her arms to the sides, giving him a full shot of what he wanted to see. Poor Eric's eyes had flashed as big as saucers.

And that scene made her recall another. She remembered what a beautiful man's body Eric had, all bronzed and hard and muscular, his hair bleached red-gold from the sun, his arms and legs sinewy and strong, his shoulders broad and powerful. She remembered how, when swimming with him, her eyes were constantly, shamefully drawn to the bulge made by his penis and balls in his tight swim trunks, how she always tried to look at his crotch when he was looking somewhere else. She had told herself it was only natural curiosity, and mostly tried to conceal her desire to look from herself as much as she did from him, but apparently he had once or twice caught her gazing with hypnotic adolescent fascination at his crotch. For one afternoon when she walked past his bedroom, there he was, sitting on the edge of his bed, facing the open door, his naked thighs spread and his long thick tube of penis hanging there in all its glory for her to see. And she had stopped, raising her fist to her mouth in delighted surprise, and stared at his prick until of its own accord it began to swell and rise and thump with blood. Then, with a nervous giggle and a very hot face, she had turned and fled down the hall.

Nothing more than these two incidents had ever happened between them, but now as Fawn remembered it all she felt the same guilty flutterings and sharp tremors of heat in her body that she'd felt then. She squirmed and felt dazed and too warm, and she drifted back toward conscious awareness and noticed that Eric's droning voice had stopped. Then she saw his eyes, saw that he was sunk in some kind of trance, too, saw him staring at her, but not at her face, no, lower, lower, at her body, and she glanced down and saw that the sash of her bathrobe had come completely undone, probably because of her unconscious squirming. The robe had fallen open, and her body was exposed from her throat to the top glistening fringe of her pubic hair.

Flushing with embarrassment, trying to regain quick control of her wits, she pulled the robe shut. "Oh, I... I don't know what happened to me!" she said breathlessly.

"Don't," Eric croaked quietly, his eyes briefly pained as the satin closed across the naked delights of her body.