Chapter One

 

Have you ever noticed how many songs are related to romance or sex? That can be a problem when you're trying to console your girlfriend because her shitty boyfriend has just dumped her. But it wasn't like there was an awful lot else to watch on TV in the middle of the day aside for music videos. Neither one of us was into soap operas nor game shows. And we didn't want to watch a movie.

At least Chelsea had passed through the initial crying phase and was now into surly, sullen resentment.

"What some more ice cream?" I asked.

"I think I better watch my weight," she said. "I have to go and find another boyfriend now."

"Or you could just be without a boyfriend for a little while," I said.

She glowered at me for a moment. "We both know I'm not like you, Kendra. I don't do well by myself."

"So become more self-sufficient."

"Oh don't give me that. You have your father wrapped around your little finger, and you have all those cousins that will help you out anytime you need it."

"And you have me!" I said, giving her a hug.

I hopped over the back of the sofa and headed across the room towards the kitchen.

"Anyway, it's his loss," I said over my shoulder.

"If he had just had more patience," she called back. "I don't know what it is with guys who think that you should take all your clothes off practically as soon as you shake hands."

"Probably the internet, not to mention Tinder," I said as I opened the fridge.

"He called me a prude," she exclaimed from the other room.

"He's just an entitled asshole. He's handsome and thinks he's God's gift to women and we should all fall at his feet."

I got some fruit juice from the fridge and let the door close.

"He was like an octopus every time we went out. Every time we'd meet his hands would go immediately to my boobs."

"You're not under any obligation to sleep with some guy. Especially since you barely knew him more than what, two weeks?"

"Three," she said. "It wasn't like I didn't give him blow jobs." She glowered at me again. "Even if I can't deep throat like some slutty people."

"I refuse to apologize for having a weak gag reflex," I said as I came back into the living room.

"He wanted me to send him naked pictures," she said.

"Never send naked pictures to guys," I said. "You never know who they're going to share them with or even whether they'll post them online."

"I know that," she said in annoyance. "Although now I'd like to send him a naked picture just to show him what he missed out on."

"I'm sure he's got a pretty good idea," I said.

"Yes, but he can't regret a pretty good idea. If he saw a picture he might feel regret."

"You're not going to get this guy back by sending him porn pictures," I said. "Even if he responded to them it would be only because he wanted to fuck you and then he'd dump you again."

"Give me a little credit," she said.

I did not give her any credit. Chelsea was one of those girls who needed a boy all the time. Every time she had a problem she needed the boy to solve. She was very needy. She wanted him around so that he could tell her how pretty she was and reassure her that he loved her and cared for her.

She got away with it, though, because she was pretty, and had a great body. Although I preferred my breasts to hers. Mine are perkier and rounder and they get in the way less than hers must. I've never wanted to be one of those girls people described as buxom or busty.

That was the first thing you noticed about Chelsea, along with the long blonde hair. She dressed to emphasize her looks, always wearing formfitting clothes. No one was ever under any illusion about how shapely she was. Not that she was a slut or anything. But she knew she needed to have bait to get what she wanted. And what Chelsea wanted was attention, male attention preferably.

I could get that myself pretty easily, mind you. I wasn't as noticeably hourglass as her, but nobody had ever expressed the slightest disappointment in my breasts or my body. Quite the contrary. But I didn't cater to boys or men the way she always had.

She had often suggested I dye my hair blonde like she had. No thank you! I'm perfectly content as a brunette. My hair isn't as long as hers, but I think partly because of that it's thicker, softer and healthier. And it's much easier to take care of.

"I know. Will you take a picture of me?"

I looked at her uncertainly. "What kind of a picture?"

"A naked picture, of course."

"Thought you just said you weren't - !"

"I don't want him back now. But I want him to regret dumping me."

"But if you send him a naked picture he could send it or give it or show it to anyone!" I exclaimed.

"So make sure that no one can prove that it's me. Cut my head off or something."

"You don't think anyone will recognize the girls?" I asked, pointing at her chest.

"Not very many people have seen the girls," she said. "It's not like I flash them around."

"Yes, you do."

"I mean naked. Just because I wear a few low-cut tops doesn't mean very many people have seen me topless. Besides, they're just boobs. Lots of girls have boobs."

"So get a picture of a pair of nice boobs on the internet and send those to him."

"I want him to regret not being able to see my boobs, not some other slut's."

"But if you send a picture then he will have seen your boobs."

"Not in person!" she exclaimed impatiently.

She jumped up from the sofa, her eyes alight. "In fact, I want you to send him pictures of my entire body naked."

"Me? I'm not sending any naked pictures."

"You know how to send them so he can't trace them back!"

"I thought the idea was he had to know they were you."

"Yes, but he can't prove it. So it can't come from my phone."

"You can take your own naked pictures with your own phone," I said.

"Oh please, Kendra, you know you're a way better photographer than me! You have a knack for taking sexy pictures."

"I do? I only take pictures of me."

"But they're always really good!"

I laughed. "Because I delete the ones that aren't, dummy!"

"Then take some sexy pictures of me and we'll delete the ones that aren't."

I shrugged. It wasn't like I hadn't seen her naked lots of times. We had spent much of our teenage years going back-and-forth sleeping at each other's homes, after all. I was still a little irritated, though. It wasn't like she couldn't take lots of selfies. She did it a bazillion times a month.

Maybe that was why I decided that if she really insisted that I take naked pictures of her, they were going to be very naked indeed. You want me to take sexy, erotic pictures? Okay then. Photography is kind of a hobby of mine.

"I'll get my camera," I said.

I went upstairs to my bedroom and got my digital camera, then came back down again to find that Chelsea had already stripped down to her lingerie. She removed her bra and thong as I watch and then stood up proudly, no doubt expecting a complement. She wasn't going to get it. I figured she really did need to learn new stuff on her own. We weren't children anymore.

"Okay, lay lengthwise on the sofa. On your back."

"That doesn't seem very imaginative."

"Who's the photographer here, bitch?"

She stuck her tongue out at me and lay down along the sofa.

I pulled the coffee table out of the way and then knelt beside the sofa, bringing a camera to my eye.

"Turn your head away and mush your hair over your face."

She got the idea and I lowered myself a bit more.

"Now I want you to raise your right leg as if you were stretching it out. Higher."

I snapped a bunch of pictures, moving left to right, easing back to get that shot of her leg, but keeping the camera low enough that I didn't get any shot of her pussy.

"Now drape your right arm across your breasts," I directed.

I took some more pictures, this time essentially showing nothing except her side, and a bit of boob that was sticking out from around her arm and hand. I figured I would give her the option of a G rated picture or two.

"Okay, now kneel on the sofa and lean over the back."

This picture would not be at all G rated. She raised her butt and spread her legs apart and even slid her arm back between her legs to spread the lips of her sex with her fingers. Obviously, she'd been looking at too much online porn. I would never take a picture like that of myself. But she had always measured herself against the girls she saw online.

"Should I stick my fingers in my pussy?"

The question startled me and made me kind of shake my head. But like I said I understood where the influence was coming from. As a part of me was feeling a little impatient with her narcissistic ways.

"If you want."

She withdrew her hand, and then returned it, with her fingers moist, probably from her mouth. And sure enough, she slid her fingers into her pussy, one, two that even a third.

"This is going to be kind of pornographic," I felt the need to warn her.

"I want him to get a big hard-on," she said.

"Okaaaayy."

I took a bunch more pictures, starting to feel like a porn photographer now.

"Don't forget, I want him to see my tits," she said.

"All right, stand up."

I had her come over to the stairs. It was a wide, polished wooden staircase.

"Oh, I think you should put your shoes on," I said.

She didn't argue. Her shoes were not like my shoes, of course. I tended to wear tennis shoes around most of the time. Chelsea always wore high heels. The shoes she had worn over were not stilettos, but they were sexy and black with four-inch heels.

I had her sit on the stairs and spread her legs wide, then lean way back so that I couldn't see anything of her face, but the underside of her chin. It was an extremely graphic picture, but that didn't seem to bother her in the slightest. In fact, even as I took pictures she reached around with one hand we do that little spreading of the pussy lips thing again.

Was anything too much for her?

Then again she'd always been a camera whore. She was very photographic and knew it

"Maybe I should take a video of this," I said sarcastically.

"Yeah! Do it!"

She eased her fingers into her pussy as I watched, and then as I flipped it over to video she began to slide them in and out. Her other arm came around, her fingers searching out her clitoris and rubbing quick and fast.

I held the camera on her and felt a kind of a jolt of confusion and astonishment. I mean, we had no need to hide much from each other. We were close and had known each other a long time. We had even practiced kissing on each other, but we had never messed around or anything. We certainly hadn't masturbated for each other or in each other's presence!

Did she really want to send this to some guy?

I almost stopped for her own good, but was feeling a little fascinated as I watched. I'd never seen anyone masturbate before in person, it was clear that she wasn't just faking it. I could see a kind of flush spreading down her neck and onto her chest. Her hips began to grind in what looked like an instinctive motion and I could hear her breathing, though it was soft, getting faster and harsher.

I started to feel a kind of a buzz, myself. It was a very, very sexual image, and very erotic given how beautiful her body was. It was also strangely anonymous, for she was effectively headless. It was just a beautiful naked female body pleasuring itself. And I found a heat rising within me as I watched.

My own nipples were prickling inside my shirt, and I felt a kind of moist heaviness down low as I held the camera steady.

Her fingers were sliding in and out, twisting and turning as she pumped. She drew back her other hand quickly, sliding her fingers into her mouth again, then bringing them back down, rubbing again at her swollen clitoris.

Her leg muscles began to work, now, raising her butt up more, grinding her fingers as she got more excited.

She had a great body, a very womanly body. It was hard to recognize it as belonging to the teenage girl I had known for so long. It was extremely sensual and I felt my own breathing becoming more shallow as my chest tightened.

She brought one of her hands up from between her legs, squeezing and kneading her breast before dropping it down low again.

She tilted her head up and forward, suddenly, which pretty much screwed the idea of this being anonymously sent anywhere. I could see the glassy look in her eyes, and how flushed her face was as she gulped in air. She was looking right at the camera, right at me as she masturbated.

I felt weird, strangely aroused, though I rarely got aroused by girls, but also annoyed. She'd fucked up the video. Now she wasn't anonymous anymore. Now it was Chelsea. I wanted her to be anonymous.

"You fucked up the video, you know," I said. "Now your face is in it."

Her motions slowed and her face looked confused as if she'd just remembered what she was supposed to be doing.

"And I should get you something you can use as a dildo," I said. "Maybe a cucumber."

She bit her lip unhappily, knowing she had irritated me. "I'm sorry," she said in her sad little girl voice.

That voice pissed me off. It was the one she used with men.

"Maybe I should tie you up so you can't move," I said. "I could put a blindfold on you then too."

"Okay," she said a little breathlessly.

I looked at her uncertainly. I hadn't really meant it. But now I had a lot of different thoughts and conflicting emotions. I was sure I could take some really erotic, sexy pictures of her tied up. But there was also a temptation there, to see how far I could push her. And that temptation came partly out of annoyance at her, and partly out of that strange, heady sense of sensual excitement I was feeling

I had her wait there and went upstairs, it came back with several scarves. I had had an aunt who gave one to me for birthdays and Christmas presents for years, though I never wore them.

Now I tied scarves around her wrists and had her spread them apart and grip the railings on the banisters on either side before tying the scarfs to the thin wooden rails. I did the same to her ankles and then tied a scarf around her eyes.

God, this looked sexy! Especially since she looked more anonymous again. But I could make her more anonymous still. I placed another scarf over her mouth, and tied it behind her. By now I was starting to get really turned on. I took some pictures of her like that, and the flush never left her face and chest. Her pussy glistened wetly.

I put the camera down and walked upstairs quickly, then went to my bedroom, and then into the closet. I pulled aside a couple of boxes and opened the box at the bottom then pulled out another smaller box and unlocked it. I returned, hurrying down the stairs until I was below her. She was still of course posed as I posed her, though her chest was rising and falling fairly quickly.

I turned on the vibrator and pushed the rounded head against the mouth of her sex. This was her opportunity to say something. But all she did was arch her back more and shudder.

I picked up the camera and started taking video again as I slowly worked the thick vibrator in deeper and deeper. I was feeling more and more excited as I did, and had to fight myself to restrain my impulses. I watched her body for signals, as she slowly writhed in place and her breathing grew more ragged.

She was very wet, and though the vibrator was thick and stretched her out so that I could feel how tight she was I had no difficulty pushing it in deeper. As her movements became more excited I felt a strange sense of need that had everything to do with sex And yet also a strange desire to make her do what I wanted.

I was feeling a growing sense of excitement just at feeling as if I had power over her, over this gorgeous naked female body trembling and writhing before me all tied up and helpless. I pulled it out completely, examining it as she moaned softly.

"You made this vibrator all wet, you blonde slut," I said.

She moaned again, only louder.

I felt a strange sense of power just from saying the words. I mean it wasn't like I hadn't called her that before, though only jokingly, or sometimes when I was angry and we were fighting. But saying them here, with her all tied up, naked and helpless, at my mercy, sent a strange ripple of excitement through my body.

I leaned forward and pressed just the tip of the vibrator against the top of her sex, rolling it lightly around and around, and watched her hips grinding up against it, or trying to.

"Such a hot and horny little slut," I said as if in amazement. "I bet you want me to stick this inside you again."

I slid the thing slowly up and down the line of her sex, then slowly pushed the head just to the mouth of her pussy before pulling it away again.

She cursed through the gag and I laughed down at her.

"What's the matter, little blonde girl?" I cooed.

I left the dildo sliding slowly up and down along her inner thighs, watching them tremble, then ran it up along the edge of her pussy and over her belly until it was pressing into her left nipple. I rubbed the head around and around her nipple, and back-and-forth across it.

"Such a dirty little blonde girl," I taunted her. "Always wanting big hard things in her pussy."

I pressed the head against the mouth of her pussy and pushed the vibrator slowly down into her quivering body. I watched her hips jerking more and more, the muscles moving beneath her skin as her body reacted and tried to push itself up harder against the vibrator.

This was getting me very excited, even if I didn't quite understand why it was influencing my behavior. I could feel it filling my head with dark, deliciously exciting ideas and thoughts.

I pumped the thing slowly in and out, at a speed I knew she would find extremely frustrating. I certainly would if it was me. Then I gripped the scarf over her mouth, and tugged it down and out.

"Are you a bad little slut?" I asked teasingly.

"Keendraaaa!" She moaned.

"You didn't answer my question."

I reached up and gripped her right nipple between my fingers and then plucked it sharply. We had done nipple twists before, of course, in a teasing way. But not when we were topless, Or when our breasts were bare. In fact, I never touched her bare breasts before. Now I pinched her nipple sharply and she cried out, her back arching.

"Ow! Oh! Kendra!" she cried.

"Tell me you're sorry for being a silly little blonde slut," I said.

"Nooooo!"

I drew the vibrator back and set it down on the stair, then left her there as I went down the hall and into the kitchen. I returned with some duct tape, then ignored her whining as I carefully taped the camera to the rail so that it was aiming down at her at just the right angle to get her entire torso and head in the frame and turned it on. Then I gripped both her nipples and pinched them sharply, pulling upwards so that she squealed once again, her back arching up.

"Oh! Ow! Kendra! Don't! That hurts!" she gasped.

"Why would I care about that? It doesn't hurt me." I taunted her.