The Cousin on the Line and the Stepdad on the Phone Screen

Chapter 62

"But Julia, how the hell did you get this?" she said, eyes glued to the screen, swiping the photo back and forth like it was buried treasure. Her mouth was watering. "Fuck, if I'd known, I would've thrown myself at him!"

She laughed, going wild over the image, and I nearly broke a sweat. Shit, I had to come up with something fast—I couldn't tell her I'd swapped nudes with the guy, 'cause I get carried away and lose my head; then she'd crown me the family slut forever. And Carla's got a big mouth.

I did what I do best: I made shit up.

"Chill," I said, putting on a face like I was remembering every detail. "It was an accident. Listen: my mom rushed out, left her phone in the kitchen, and I, being nosy, went snooping through it. I was digging in the chats to see what they talked about me, and out of nowhere, this dirty conversation popped up and I found that pic in the middle. I sent it to myself and wiped the trail. Done."

The lie came out smooth; in my head, it was solid. Whether she bought it, I don't know—but she stayed there, cracking jokes.

"Oh my God, call that man right now, I need to ride that thing!" she yelled dramatically, already fantasizing.

"God forbid, girl," I said, laughing, trying to act holier than I was.

"Send it to me? It's for my thesis!" she teased, already reaching out.

"Thesis my ass, you're gonna rub one out staring at his photo."

"Oh, come on! And you, you never touched yourself to that pic?"

"No way!" I shouted way too quick, all dramatic.

The denial came out perfect, convincing, but inside I knew it was a bald-faced lie. It'd happened just once—and that was enough to make me die of shame just thinking about it.

Back then, I don't know what got into me. The guy was always prowling the house, devouring me with his eyes, and the more he pretended to be normal, the hotter I got. Could've been my fertile window, pure horniness, or some need to prove I was a woman—fuck the reason. I started teasing on purpose: let a strap slip and flashed a tit, pretended not to notice and stared back just to watch him choke. He caught on quick, 'cause he's no dummy, and came after me without hesitation.

I was in heat, no shame at all, finger deep, door wide open, mind miles away. He walked in right then. I saw the devil leaning in the doorway with a hard cock, that scorching look that split me in two. I liked it. Got worse. Instead of complaining, I put on a slutty face, locked eyes, and gave the order my way: close the door.

Then after, when the dust settled, he came to lay into me, but the lust had faded, and fuck, I'd provoked him, couldn't just walk away without hearing him out. But he started coming on to me, trying to fuck, but right then I think he froze and said he'd send me a pic of himself, I was kinda shocked and went quiet. That's how I got the dick pic.

Oh! Important note, I sent one back—he said if I sent one just like it, he'd play nice and talk to my mom about letting the bus guy stay over.

And I sent one all spread open and dripping.

Of course, Carla has no clue how I really got the damn photo, or my life would be hell. Mariana knows the gist, and I trust her with my soul. Carla kept pushing me to send it, and quick as a flash, I grabbed my phone before she swiped sideways and saw my dick gallery. I had a few: the bus guy's, Pedro's, Matheus's, and his. Not bad for someone who's only been fucking a short time.

"Here, you devil. Now quit bugging me."

I felt safe sending it 'cause she'd never prove whose it was; only my mom would recognize it. And to be sure, I got ahead of it.

"Hey slut, save the pic and delete my message," I said, leaning in closer, her already with her own phone in hand. "Do it, delete it—I wanna see."

"Okay, fine. You think I'm gonna tell anyone whose it is?"

"Who knows. You're crazy." I said, and only backed off when I saw she'd deleted it under protest.

Carla got tired of staring at the photo on her phone, went thoughtful, and dropped:

"You think that son of a bitch is jerking off to us right now?"

The words slid in my ear and my body reacted instantly: my chest prickled, nipples hardened, my clit throbbed low like someone tugged a string inside me.

"Probably. My mom's not home…"

I'm sure in the silence that followed, we were both picturing the scene, 'cause when we snapped back to reality, we both knew exactly what the other was thinking.

But the topic shifted quick and she started talking about why she'd come over: that dress for a friend's engagement dinner tomorrow, then she rolled into work, the people, the guys, an endless rosary. I tried to keep up, but my phone buzzed and I saw who it was and it wrecked me. "Fuck…"

It was my stepdad.

She kept talking, checking herself in my bedroom mirror; I muted the phone and opened the message quick:

"Every time I head to your room I get a nice surprise. Don't worry, I won't tell your mom a thing. Wanna see what you did to me?"

"Holy shit!" It slipped out loud.

Carla cut off and turned, worried:

"What is it, crazy?"

"Nothing. Keep going. School stuff."

I held the phone shaking and typed:

"No pic, I want video."

And hit send.

Right away I thought: "Fuck, I'm no good… I'm gonna end up fucking that man like this." And the worst: zero guilt. Just short breaths and my head buzzing with the idea of him, somewhere in my house, filming his own cock to send me. I felt the wetness rise hot between my legs, all creamy, panties sticking. I almost yanked down my shorts right there, but held back with the trick: clench and release my thighs, squeeze, let go, again.

I laughed and said "uh-huh" to Carla, but my mind was elsewhere. Shaking inside, chills from doing something wrong and loving it.

Vrrrrrr…

Phone buzzed. I looked. New message. Opened it: video. Downloaded it, deleted the chat on the spot, and leaned in a strategic corner of the room, out of her mirror view. The thumbnail all black, but I knew.

I propped against the headboard and hit play.

Flipped the phone vertical right away to fit it all. I'd seen that cock before: thick as hell at the base, tapering just a bit to the tip, well-shaped head, no foreskin, veins bulging hard. His own phone light made it all gleam, slick and shiny.

My stomach dropped and flipped in one hit. Felt the heat bloom between my legs like someone licked it. Panties stuck. Burned indecently. Breath got short, chest heaving fast, that tingle starting at my clit and exploding in my gut. I wanted to shove my hand down there, now, but I froze, gripping the phone with both hands, thighs clenching on their own, opening and closing in a ridiculous rhythm.

He started stroking slow, almost teasing, like showing off the weight for me, lazy up and down, palm twisting in the middle. Then he sped up all at once, short firm pumps, then slowed again, pure evil. I bit my lip, had to choke a moan in my throat, feeling the wetness drip more, my whole body begging for friction.

But something downstairs caught my attention—the folks had arrived.