::Disclaimer::
All characters in the story are of or above the legal age to engage in sexual relations.
* * * * *
She stood, quivering, in front of the mirror. Faintly she heard the sounds of her father moving around downstairs. Her eyes flickered past the reflection in front of her, then darted away, too ashamed to look properly. She tensed as she heard footsteps coming up the stairs, then relaxed as they went over the squeaky floorboard outside the door and passed by.
She shuddered at the thought of her father catching her like this. If he told her mum she'd be in such trouble. No, scrap that, she'd be in disgrace. She didn't know what had possessed her to do it.
She glanced down briefly now, her eyes drawn relentlessly to the bare flesh she'd exposed.
*****
The evening before had been a strange one all round, starting with that comment Tom had made. He'd been leaning against the kitchen counter, drinking beer out of a bottle and laughing with some of his friends from the Rugby club.
One of them had spotted Sascha hovering nervously in the doorway and let out a low wolf-whistle through his teeth. If he'd been trying to make her even more uncomfortable then he'd succeeded admirably, laughing as her face turned crimson.
"Oh dear," he chuckled, turning to Tom, "have I upset your little sis?"
"Probably," he said, raising his eyebrows and sucking his teeth to indicate his feelings on the subject. "She's only a little girl."
Sascha had turned and fled, the sound of rough, masculine laughter rolling down the hall behind her.
She wasn't that young. One of the oldest in her year at school and about to go to college, she was old enough to have all the physical characteristics of a woman, it was more the way she carried herself and behaved around other people that made her seem so young.
The thing was -- this wasn't the first time she'd been teased about her youth. Over the years Tom's friends had veered between a patronising friendliness towards his little sister, to a scathing silence that didn't even acknowledge her presence.
Over the last few months they'd started this new campaign of whistling and making lewd jokes until Tom stopped them. Sascha thought she'd got used to it, and Tom always stood up for her, so she hadn't minded too much. As long as he was on her side she could take the teasing.
But now, to be denigrated like that: to have her brother who she hero-worshipped denounce her as being just 'a little girl' and have a group of burly men laughing at her was enough to shatter anyone's confidence in themselves, so she slammed the door behind her and sat on the bed staring at nothing and thinking.
She couldn't really quantify what it was that made her seem so young, but she knew that she was fed up of the assumptions that everyone made based on her youthful appearance.
Slowly she picked up her laptop and turned it on. She clicked on the internet browser and typed 'women' into the search engine. She chose the 'image' function and sighed in frustration as a load of pictures of clothes came up.
She thought for a moment, then typed in 'adult women.' Maybe that was a mistake, because suddenly a whole page of naked, porn-style images came up. Shocked, she was about to go back to the search page, but braced herself as she realised that perhaps this is what Tom had meant.
Maybe it was the way she shied away from sex and her own sexuality that made her seem so young.
She gazed in slight wonder at the pictures in front of her. One by one she deleted the letters of the word 'women,' leaving just the 'adult.' The pictures were now very definitely pornographic, with all sorts of intimate body parts on full and graphic display.
Staring, she analysed the images in front of her, finding herself becoming entranced with the close-ups of genitalia.
"Yuck, horrid word." She thought. Softly she said "pussy," liking the way it sounded on her lips, soft and whispery. She said it again. "Pussy."
She felt braver now and for the next hour she browsed all kinds of erotic sites that she had steered well clear of before. She looked at pictures, read stories and 'how to' articles until she became intensely, uncomfortably aware of a growing heat in her belly.
She squirmed on the bed, trying to satisfy some urgent need inside her, pulling the duvet between her legs and rubbing against it, but to no avail.
As she lay there she started wondering about herself, whether she really did look that young or whether she could be as sexy and glamorous as some of those women. Cautiously she snuck into the bathroom, the only room with a full length mirror as well as a lock.
Turning her back on the mirror she quickly stripped off her clothes, then took a deep breath and turned around. She was actually pleasantly surprised. Her body was fit and toned, with rich curves and as long as she pretended it was someone else's body she could see that it was an attractive one.
Blushing slightly and checking that the bolt was still in place, she lowered herself into a sitting position on the floor in front of the mirrored doors and opened her legs. She wanted to look at her pussy and see if that, too, matched up to those she had seen online.
She stared in bafflement for a second before realising what was wrong. Unlike the carefully manicured pussies in the pictures, hers was entirely 'au naturelle.' With her colouring being that of a typical English rose -- pale pink-and-white skin and dark hair -- the shock of pubic hair between her legs not only obscured the delicate contours of her pussy, but stood out in startling contrast to her pale skin looking messy and ungroomed.
Without even thinking about it she jumped up and got her nail scissors out of her wash bag. A few minutes later there was a small pile of hair on the floor and she looked a lot neater, but she still wasn't happy. She liked the smooth, cleanliness of the porno girls and with her arousal growing ever stronger at this mini-makeover of such an intimate part of herself she grew more determined.
