This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
I've taken on board the comments from chapter 1 and acknowledge that it was very short and I kind of ruined it by giving the game away in the beginning, so I'm going to avoid doing that from here on out. Now that I've established things a bit, I should also be able to kickstart the plot and get to the good old smut you came for, you horndogs you. :)
Chapter 2
*****
"What the fuck Dana?" I cried, or possibly shrieked. "This...you...that's you...but you're...and they said...and you said..."
Hey, I never claimed to be the most articulate of people when looking at photos of naked friends, okay?
Dana, to my chastisement, looked utterly horrified at my reaction. "I knew you wouldn't approve, even after you said I shouldn't worry! Shit shit shit, I should not have shown you this. I'm so sorry, Sarah." A tear started rolling down her cheek. I pretty much felt like the biggest bitch in Bitchtown.
"Oh christ no, I'm the one who's sorry Dana. That was a major overreaction on my part. Please don't cry! Fuck, don't cry. I just...that was pretty overwhelming. I wasn't prepared for it."
She sniffled a little, making a pathetic little sound that made me want to gather her into the world's biggest hug. "You...you don't hate me for doing this? You don't think I'm a huge slut or that it's wrong?"
Despite the gravity of the situation, I couldn't help but let out a little laugh. "I stood here and watched you scroll through naked girls for god knows how long. I don't think I can really judge at this point. It was just a shock seeing that one of them was the girl standing in front of me. I couldn't believe someone as gorg-er, that is someone like you would do something like this."
Dana's face lit up like a Christmas tree for a moment and she failed to suppress a little half smile as I came to the realisation that I hadn't been as adept at concealing my slip of the tongue as I'd initially thought. "You think I'm gorgeous?" she asked, putting on the most sultry voice I'd ever heard from her. I knew she was teasing, but hot damn I felt myself get a little damp.
"If I didn't, I'd either have to be blind or in possession of a single-digit IQ. You know I think you're gorgeous. Everyone thinks you're gorgeous. You're everything women wish they could be and I know for a fact I'll certainly never-"
My rambling was interrupted by the sensation of a pair of soft lips meeting mine. After a confusing flurry of various feelings, I realised Dana was kissing me. I was being kissed. By Dana. As soon as my brain caught up with current events, I recoiled like I'd been shot. Dana didn't even try to hide her look of hurt.
"Shit, that's another thing I shouldn't have done. I'm sorry Sarah, it's just that I really like you and I know you don't swing that way but after seeing all those pictures and you saying that, I was caught up in the moment and..." she trailed off.
I opened my mouth to respond with something calm and sophisticated like "Oh my dear Dana, think nothing of it! I am well accustomed to turning away the advances of amorous women, and you are but one of many! Now let us dance the night away and drink of this wonderful wine I brought!" but what actually came out was the smallest of squeaks as I turned and ran out of her house.
Well, fuck.
***
It was a couple of weeks, 41 missed calls and 5 voicemails later that I finally convinced myself that I needed to talk to Dana before she decided once and for all that I hated her and she should just never speak to me again. If she hadn't already come to that conclusion. I mean, 41 missed calls. 5 voicemails. I hadn't responded to any of them.
I hated myself for running out like that and had been using that hatred to fuel my insistence that talking to her would make things worse, but after having this long to think about it I could admit to myself that I had just been terrified of what she would think of me after I scarpered like I did.
Why did I even run? I'd asked myself that several times, but not once had I been able to give myself a satisfactory answer. It wasn't like I didn't have at least an inkling that Dana liked girls, or even me specifically. I'd always had, in the back of my mind, a little voice wondering if her attempts to skimpify my outfits stemmed at least in part from a genuine desire to see me naked. But I guess having confirmation in the form of Dana's lips on my own was too much for me to handle. God, those lips. So soft and warm and gentle and...ahem. Okay, yeah, I know I said in the beginning I was straight, but maybe I was at least a little flexible when Dana was involved. Maybe.
The only problem was that I'd now left it far too long to believably go to her and say that no, I didn't run because she freaked me out and I hated her forever or whatever else had been going through her head. No, I'd have to come up with something pretty spectacular to convince her that I was okay with everything that had happened. But what could I possibly...
...well, there was something, wasn't there? Something that would tell her pretty definitively. But...could I bring myself to do it? For the sake of my friendship, I told myself I could. I continued to tell myself several times a minute while I went to my closet and put on my costume for the evening.
***
I took a deep breath as I stood in front of my bedroom mirror, admiring my reflection clad in a form-fitting tank top and denim shorts. It was my favourite outfit and the one I felt most complimented my figure, but I'd never, ever worn it outside of this room or let anyone see me in it. That was about to change, I supposed. With my phone in the incredibly-seldom-used selfie mode, I attached it to the selfie stick I'd appropriated from my sister, held it out and moved it around until the picture on the screen looked like something the internet would like, and taking another deep breath, clicked the button.
There, I'd taken the first step. I now had a selfie of myself wearing clothes. Nothing to it. Don't know what I was worrying about.
By which I mean I was shitting bricks. But I couldn't back out, not now.
I had decided to do something similar to the redhead Dana had shown me, where I would start off fully-clothed and take a series of striptease photos until I was...less fully-clothed. Okay, next step. I lifted the tank top up to reveal a lacy black bra I had put on for my "shoot". With the top lifted, I snapped another selfie.
Next, I removed the tank top entirely, taking a photo of myself in just the bra and shorts. My heart started beating faster as I unbuttoned the shorts and took a photo like that, figuring it would be most effective to build up anticipation in my eventual audience. With my shorts opened I took a picture with my hand down the front, and was slightly surprised to find that I was already pretty wet. Wait, was I enjoying this? It had started out as a necessary evil to convince my friend of my sincerity, a new experience I could analyse to see why she did it, but I had to admit that seeing myself in the mirror slowly getting naked was quite a turnon.
After sliding the shorts down my legs and taking a few photos in nothing but my lingerie (which naturally included one of me from behind, bending over) it was time to put up or shut up. So far I hadn't captured anything with my camera that wouldn't be seen if I were on the beach or at the pool. Now came the part where I couldn't put off admitting to myself that I was about to take photos with the express intention of turning people on. Would they...masturbate to them? Images of men sitting at their computers, their engorged cocks in their hands as they looked at the show I was putting on, made me feel a little flushed as a fresh wave of dampness made itself known in my lacy panties. The urge to touch myself was quite strong now, but I had a plan and I was sticking to it. Bra first.
Okay, maybe I fingered myself just a little through the fabric. And maybe it felt fucking incredible as I imagined Da-someone other than me doing it. But after that, sticking to the plan!
I'd briefly considered just getting topless now and hastening towards the main event because not even I could deny how horny I was getting, but through sheer force of willpower and the heady thought that the more I teased the more people would enjoy it, I first slid my arms out of my bra straps and took a picture of me holding it loosely against my chest. After that I discarded the bra but kept my arms across myself for some teasing coverage. Then, finally, blissfully, I took the arm away and started snapping photos of my tits.
For all my prudishness at times I was pretty proud of my C-cups, and right now, feeling so sexy and alive, they looked incredible. I pinched my nipples and moaned loudly as they hardened even more than they already were. I was getting so wet now that a small drop of moisture was trickling down my leg, which in my current state I found incredibly hot, and not even thinking about it I took a close-up of it. I lost count of the number of topless selfies I took, but it was more than a few let me tell you.
After one more selfie of my hand inside my panties, I couldn't take it any more. I yanked them off, nearly giving myself whiplash in the process, and continued to click the button periodically as I went to town on myself. I was so soaked after my striptease that my fingers met with absolutely no resistance as I slid them between my slick folds and started rubbing my clit with my thumb. Oh sweet fuck, that felt good. I was no stranger to masturbating, and I wasn't exactly a virgin, but it had never felt like this. The images in my head of men surrounding me while I feverishly rubbed myself had awakened something in me I hadn't even known was there, and I could feel an orgasm building in me that was like nothing I'd felt before.
My whole body was aflame. I was in a delirious hazy of sexual frenzy and I'd long since stopped paying attention to whether I was even photographing myself any more. Nothing existed but me, my naked body, and the men I'd filled the room with in my imagination. I now pictured them sitting in a circle around me, their hands pumping their rock-hard cocks as they raced to cover me with their semen.
The orgasm continued to build, reaching an intensity I wasn't even sure I could stand. I continued to pump my fingers in and out of my aching pussy, thumb flying over my clit, but no matter how fast and hard I rubbed I could never quite reach the sweet release I longed for.
Until I added Dana to my roomful of voyeurs.
It was a thought that came unbidden, from the deepest reaches of my subconscious, but no sooner had my mental picture come to include Dana, lying naked in front of me rubbing her own clit, than I exploded. There is no other way to describe the climax that hit me but an explosion. Every nerve in my body was strained to breaking point. My heart was racing a million miles an hour. I was absolutely covered in my own juices and it felt amazing. I even brought my soaked fingers to my lips and licked them clean, feeling incredibly naughty as I did so. It was the first time I had ever tasted myself, and I was pleasantly surprised to find that it was nowhere near as disgusting as I had always imagined.
