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After dinner, our parents helped Jacob transfer my bags from their car to his and we said our goodbyes. Then he drove me back to his apartment, which is right in the heart of downtown. On the ride over, I was torn between taking in the sights and staring at my stepbrother.
I know that it’s wrong, but I can’t help but think that Jacob is the handsomest man I’ve seen. In the past, I’ve found some guys cute, but I’ve never felt inclined to pursue any of them. I’m still a virgin for that reason. It’s not that I’m disinterested in sex – as more and more of my friends have intimate encounters, I can’t help but wonder why they like it so much – but I haven’t had the time to find a partner. Maybe if there was someone who piqued my interest, I’d have made time.
Now, sitting in the spare room in my stepbrother’s apartment, I think I understand the compulsion. Something about Jacob’s voice and his broad, muscular chest makes the place between my legs quiver. During dinner, every brush of our arms sent tingles through my whole body. It feels like I’m drawn to him, pushed by some invisible force that’s impossible to ignore. Even now, in the relative privacy of my temporary bedroom, my mind wanders to him.
In an attempt to shift my thoughts, I dig my camera out of my bag and walk over to my floor-to-ceiling window. Jacob’s apartment is on the twenty-fourth floor overlooking the city. The view here is breathtaking. Getting a few shots for my blog seems like the perfect distraction from the mess in my head.
It takes me a few tries to get the lighting right. My first few photos have a glare from the overhead light, so I have to fiddle with the lamp on the nightstand. After I get a few successful photos of the skyline, I set up my tripod; I’ve been needing new headshots, and the lights of the city would make a stunning background.
When I’m satisfied with the pictures, I start to put my camera away. A thought strikes me before I finish getting the device off of the tripod. Maybe I should take a few… risqué photos.
I’ve never done it before, but plenty of my friends have. Some of them send the images to their boyfriends or whichever guy they’re hooking up with that week, but others say they take them for themselves. Their logic is that they only look like this once, so they want to keep a record of it for when they’re older.
I’m not confident enough to get fully naked, so I strip out of my dress down to my lacey black bra and panty set. After fidgeting with the band and setting the timer on my camera, I run back into place and strike what I hope is a seductive pose. Then, after I hear the shutter click, I check to see how it turned out.
While I think my body looks good, it’s obvious that I’m not comfortable. It almost looks like I’m trying too hard. This time, after resetting the camera, I strike another pose, attempting to look more relaxed. Then, when I look at the results, I see definite improvement, and I feel a rush of excitement. Not that I’m insecure or anything, but seeing myself like this makes me feel incredibly gorgeous. I want to take more.
As I take more photos, I start to experiment with poses, becoming more and more comfortable with myself. In fact, I stop bothering with the timer and grab the remote. I mess up my hair a little and pout in some.
I’m in the middle of taking a shot of my ass where I’m looking over my shoulder when my bedroom door flings open. Immediately, I try to cover myself with my hands as I spin around. Jacob is standing there, staring at me with wide, dark green eyes. His mouth is parted slightly, showing me a glimpse of his perfect white teeth.
“I–” I begin, not sure what to say as my face starts burning.
His gaze darts away from me to the camera then back to me before he says, “Are you taking nudes? Who are you sending these to?”
“I’m not sending them to anyone,” I say quickly, looking around for my discarded dress. “And they aren’t nudes.”
Jacob’s shoulders relax a little. He takes in my full appearance, his eyes lingering on my hips and then my breasts. I feel myself getting squirmy, but I don’t want to tell him to stop. I like that he’s looking at me, and that feeling from earlier comes back. My womanhood pulses, and I think I want Jacob to do something about it.
“If you’re not sending them to anyone, why are you taking them?” he asks when his gaze finally returns to my face.
“I don’t know,” I admit, hesitantly letting my hands drop. “I’ve never done it before, and I guess I wanted to try it out.”
He nods, swallowing hard as he fights to maintain eye contact. “I take it you’ve never had sex before either,” he says, his low voice even huskier than normal.
“No,” I breath, my gaze drifting down to his chest, then to the bulge forming in the front of his jeans. “No, I haven’t.”
A charged, heavy silence descends upon the two of us. I wish I could read his thoughts, but I can tell there’s a lot bouncing around in his head right now. My mind is blank, filled only with a desire I don’t know how to put into words. It might be for the best that I can’t.
“I bet you’ve never seen a cock in person before, then,” Jacob says, his words only increasing the heaviness of the tension. When I tear my eyes away from where he’s steadily getting harder in his pants, he’s smirking at me. He must have caught me looking.
My words are caught in my throat. I open and close my mouth, trying to tell him I haven’t, but I can’t get it out. I settle for shaking my head, and he chuckles darkly in response.
“Do you want to?”
Somehow, I manage to say, “Yes.”
Without another word, his strong hands go to his leather belt. It clicks against the button of his dark blue jeans as he unfastens it, then he slips the button out and pulls the zipper down. I feel like I can’t breathe as he pulls his girthy length from his boxers.
His dick looks heavy in his hand, and I feel my panties getting wet just from the sight of it. Jacob gives himself a single pump, and I gasp at how obscene it looks. In front of my eyes, his member swells to full hardness. I think my mouth might be watering.
“What do you think?” he asks, nearly growling when he speaks.
“It’s big,” I say, my voice breathy and foreign to my own ears. “I– I wasn’t expecting that.”
“You think?” he murmurs, waiting for me to nod in affirmation. “You can touch it if you want.”
My feet are shuffling across the soft, expensive-feeling rug before I can even think about it. I stop in front of him, so close I can hear his ragged breathing. Then, with a shaky hand, I reach out and run my fingertips over the head, making his hips thrust forward involuntarily.
