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CONFESSIONS

My name is Jenna, and I’m a pervert. Well, not really, or at least not purposefully. I place all the blame on my stepbrother, Harrison, for leaving his bedroom door ajar while he was changing. I mean, he knows I’m in the house and that there’s a chance I might be upstairs. And I guess I should put some of it down to fate or karma or whatever, for sending me walking past at just the right moment to see his amazing naked body full frontal.

That chest.

Those abs.

Gloriously smooth tan skin and the little happy-trail leading down from his navel to areas I’ve tried never to think about before. I mean, we have a pool in our backyard, so it’s not like I’ve never seen him in swimwear, but baggy board shorts still cover a lot.

Maybe I shouldn’t have been looking into his room as I passed. I guess I’m guilty of that. He deserves his privacy, I suppose. But if he valued it that much, he wouldn’t have been toweling himself dry where anyone could walk past and see his cock in all its glory, would he? And glorious, it was too.

I’m no virgin, but I’ve never seen a dick like that before. Even hanging like it was, it looked like it had a life of its own. Long and straight and thick as my forearm. Perfectly smooth and tan, like the skin on the rest of his body. And everything so neatly trimmed too.

Fuck, I’m salivating just thinking about it, and my poor neglectedfuffieis all hot and bothered. It’s been a few months since I decided that my ex, Bradley, wasn’t doing anything for me I couldn’t do for myself. All that boring talk about football killed any feelings I had for him. On our last date, I got close to stuffing my ears with chunks of bread roll to block out his drone.

But Harrison’s not like that. We’ve only been living in the same house for a year since our parents finally decided that their three years of dating were indeed true love and tied the knot. It was strange at first to be waking up in the same household as such a gorgeous slice of manhood, but I was with Bradley at the time, so I tried not to feel attracted to my new stepbrother. The trouble is, in addition to being a totalhottie, Harrison is also hilarious, and interesting, and caring, and now that I’m single, I can admit to having a total crush on him.

Does it count as a crush when you think about someone all the time and wish like hell they weren’t related to you by marriage? Does it count as a crush when your heart hurts a little each time you see them with another girl, even when they aren’t dating?

I think it might be more than a crush.

And now I’ve seen him naked, it’s even worse. I just can’t get that image out of my head.

My brain seems to have discarded sense and rational thought and is now fully engaged on Harrison’s cock. Andit’skind of scary because I’m usually the type of girl who, when she knows what she wants, always goes out to get it. But this time, it’s not that simple. This time, there’s the fact he’s my stepbrother, and my dad is married to his mom.

I felt guilty enough when all I was doing was thinking about how great he was and wishing we could be more. Now I feel like a deviant because my mind has moved to fantasizing about that big thing pushing inside me, and Harrison looking down at me with his warm hazel eyes and telling me I’m his girl.

Yes, I might be a pervert, but it seems I am also a romantic.

Just imaging him lying on his bed, naked as the day he was born, stroking that massive thing up and down, makes my cheeks flame. Erect it would be big enough to club someone to death with. God. I’m sweating, andit’sOctober. My physical situation definitely has nothing to do with the weather.

I don’t think Harrison saw me. He was watching TV, rubbing himself dry in that absent-minded way that’s so hot — just stroking his big blue towel over his body slowly even though he looked pretty dry already. If I’d been two seconds later, I might have missed the whole show. Two seconds earlier, and he might have caught me gaping at him.

It must be some kind of primitive instinct that’s buried deep within my DNA. That’s the only explanation I have for it. I’ve never had a fixation like this before. But maybe it’s because it’s Harrison, and in the first few months we lived together, he was so great. He always remembers things I’ve told him, and important dates, and even opens the car door for his mom. The thing is that more recently he has started to drive me a little insane. See, he has a tendency to tease me, exactly like a real big brother would.

When he calls me Princess, I want to kill him.

I’ve been hiding out in my room ever since I saw what I saw, dreading dinner when I’m going to have to go downstairs andmake polite conversation with the family and try to put all these jumbled and dirty thoughts out of my mind.

As if Harrison’s mom, Lacey, can hear my daydreaming, I hear her yelling that the food is ready. I close my laptop, stand up from my desk and run my hands over my hot cheeks, trying to gather some composure. Fuck. I can’t do this. Harrison and I sit next to each other at the table, close enough for our arms to brush if we’re cutting into a steak or something that needs a bit of extra effort. I think if our skin touched tonight, I might combust. I use my bathroom to run my wrists under the cold water, hoping it will take the heat out of my blood, and I blot my face with a tissue to get rid of the shine. In the mirror, my eyes look alive, and my skin is glowing. Sex thoughts seem to have a positive effect on my appearance.

I hear the thump of Harrison as he makes his way downstairs and the rumble of his deep voice as he talks to his mom. My dad is away on business, so it’s just going to be the three of us for dinner. More pressure to make conversation. More risk that someone will notice my face and the fact it’s likely to turn beet-red as soon as I enter the kitchen. I’m just praying that we’re not having jumbo hot-dogs for dinner or I might pass out.

With dad out of town, I decide at the last minute to switch to his seat. It’s opposite Harrison instead of next to him, and when I sit, he looks at me surprised, then sniffs his armpit. “Do I smell?”

“No,” I blurt out, flustered. “You just had a shower.” Oh god, it’s the most stupid thing I could have said, and he looks slightly intrigued at my obvious embarrassment.I definitelymake everything worse by telling him I heard the water in the pipes.

“So why are you sitting over there, then?” he asks.

“I just felt like a change.” I shrug in a pathetic attempt to appear nonchalant, reaching for the water jug, so I have something to do with my hands.

He looks so damn good in the t-shirt he’s wearing. It’s nothing special, just an old grey thing that’s probably been through the washer a hundred times, but it fits him like a second skin. And I think he’s a little cold because his nipples are hard. Fuck. I’m noticing his nipples and here comes the blush. When I look up with a start, Harrison’s looking at me, bemused.

“Are you okay, Jenna? You’re acting strange, and your face has gone all red.”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” I say, swallowing down a whole glass of iced water. “Just feeling hot.”

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