Shooting in Hannah - Version Alpha

by Lubrican

Chapters : 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8

Chapter Five

Now that Hannah's portfolio was complete, we no longer had an excuse to take racy pictures. I think that's the way we both saw it at the time. School also started and our days were full again, with little time or opportunity to take such photographs. She was a senior now, and that put her in a different social class.

That lasted until November, when Steve finally realized he wasn't ever going to get a piece of ass from Hannah and broke up with her. He made it clear why he was breaking up with her by giving her an ultimatum on a date one night. To be honest, I don't think he actually meant to break it off. They'd been going out for almost a year by then. But she called his bluff and I suspect his pride was wounded so he took her home. At least he didn't leave her on the side of the road.

She was pretty broken up about it. Mom commiserated with her but said, "It's probably for the best sweetheart." Dad said, "Good. I didn't like him anyway."

She came to my room to find a shoulder to cry on.

We ended up on the bed just hugging while she cried. It never occurred to me to do anything other than hold her, but that was the first time I had a face full of that long golden hair that smelled so good. I thought about how Steve had no doubt gotten to sniff that lovely hair a lot. But no longer. He was a loser. I had her now.

That's an example of how we can talk ourselves into something completely unrealistic. I didn't "have" Hannah, certainly not like Steve had her, but she felt so good in my arms and smelled so good and my heart was breaking for her while it exulted that Steve-the-jerk was no longer in the picture, that my psyche kind of went off on a fantasy, I guess.

I was clueless about it before, but I've heard about the "rebound" phenomenon since then. Hannah was a classic case. She was hurt and she was mad. About an hour into our hug, during which she poured her heart out to me and I just listened, I heard her stomach rumble and asked her if she was hungry. She said she was starved. Steve had apparently been trying to set the agenda for the evening by getting her to agree to have sex after they ate. They never got around to the eating part, what with sex being off the table.

So I got up to go get us a snack. Mom and Dad were just going to bed and asked me if I'd seen Hannah.

"She told me what happened and then said she was going to bed," I lied. I don't know why I lied. Maybe I didn't want them to know she was lying on my bed at the time.

"Take it easy on her for the next few days," said my mother. "Girls at that age are very vulnerable."

I thought about telling her all the things Hannah had muttered about doing to Steve, such as cutting his balls off. She hadn't sounded very vulnerable at all. I didn't say anything, though and they went into their room and closed the door.

I got some cookies Mom had made that day and two glasses of milk and took them back to my room. Hannah was sitting at my computer, looking through the pictures I'd saved from both her portfolio and the private ones.

"And to think I was actually thinking about giving him one or two of these," she said. She was looking at the lingerie shots at the time.

"You promised me you wouldn't," I reminded her.

"I know." She looked at me. "You'd make a better boyfriend than him."

"I think people might stare if we started going on dates," I teased.

"You're still a dork," she said. "You're a sweet dork, but still a dork."

"Speaking of portfolios, you still haven't heard back?"

I was referring to the fact that she'd sent a copy of her homemade portfolio to the modeling agency that had approved of her head shot.

"Nope. I guess they're not interested after all."

"Then they're crazy," I said.

"I don't care," she said. "I don't care about much of anything anymore."

"I know you're mad at Steve, but do you want to share the wealth and be mad at me, too?"


"Because he was a jerk and you deserved much better, from the very first time he took you out. I'm with Dad on this one, Hannah."

She didn't get mad, to my surprise. Instead she got that impish look on her face.

"You were just jealous of him."

"Why? You said you never did anything with him."

"Because I wanted to do things with him," she said.

"You did more things with me than you did with him," I argued. "If anything he should have been jealous of me."

"If he'd have known what you got to see he would have been crazy jealous. He'd have tried to beat you up."

"He'd have gotten his ass handed to him in a cup," I bragged. Steve thought he was tough but I had two inches and thirty pounds on him.

"You didn't get to kiss me," she said. "Or feel my boobs." She looked startled, as if she'd blurted something out unintentionally. I was pretty sure keeping it a secret that she kissed him wasn't it.

"And we never discussed this before because ...?" I asked.

"Because it was none of your business," she said, suddenly on the defensive.

"Did I not tell you if some guy tried anything with you I'd have to kill him? It seems that makes it my business."

"You said if a guy tried to force me to do something you'd kill him," she corrected.

"So you just let him grope you out of the goodness of your heart," I said.

"No. I wanted to know what it would feel like. He always tried so one time I let him."

"And that's all?"

"Pretty much. I didn't let him do it again."

"Wait. You let him cop a feel and then made him stop?" I was starting to feel some sympathy for Steve. It felt odd.

"Of course. I couldn't encourage him. He'd just want more. He was always telling me I was killing him anyway."

"Hannah, letting a guy feel your boobs is the definition of encouraging him," I suggested.

"I didn't encourage him," she insisted.

"You said 'pretty much.' What else happened you didn't tell me about?"

"You're not the boss of me," she said, petulantly. "I don't have to tell you anything."

"Did he stick a finger in your pussy?" I asked. I admit it was a little blunt.

"Of course not!" she yipped. I could tell she was genuinely horrified that I might think that.

"Well ... something happened," I said, stubbornly.

"He pushed his boner against me a lot, okay?" she snapped.

"Oh," I said. That wasn't so bad. From my perspective, the hard part was not pushing your boner against a girl if you were hugging her.

"Oh? Is that it? Feeling my boobs is horrible but pushing his nasty swollen penis against me is just fine?"

I could tell she was getting mad, and it wasn't at Steve this time. Sure, I'd offered to let her get mad at me, too, but I hadn't meant it. I hoped she'd recognize good advice when she heard it. That was the fact that Steve was and always had been a jerk.

"Look," I said. "I don't want to fight. I'm sorry your heart got broken. Trust me, though. When word gets out, there will be a line of guys trying to get you to go out with them. I know. Some of them talk to me about you."

"They do?" That had gotten her attention off of both Steve and me.

"Yeah. Most of it is locker room chatter though."

"What do you mean? Do you mean like President Trump did when he was running for president? Do they say they want to grab my pussy?"

"Not exactly. I don't know any guy who actually talks like that. For my money Trump thought he was being cool when he said that and has never actually grabbed a woman's pussy. You don't just go around grabbing pussies. I don't care how rich you are. That will get you kicked in the balls."

"What, then?" she asked. "What do they say?"

"You don't want to know. Really. It will just get you going again. But trust me, a lot of guys think you're hot and they'd love to take you out. Steve's been hogging you and there's a backlog on your dance card."

"That sounds like something Daddy would say," she said.

"It is. I need to ask him what the heck a dance card actually is. It just sounds kind of cool, don't you think?"

"What would be cool is if you told me what guys say to you about me."

"You're not going to give this up, are you?"


"Okay, then. I warned you. Do you want names? You know, so you know who to slap in the face when they ask you out next week?"

"Let's hear what they said first," she replied.

"Okay, let's see. Lots of guys ask me if I ever get to see you naked, like after a shower or something. That's pretty tame." I thought back. "One guy asked me if I ever got to help you shave your pussy."

"Very Trump-like," said Hannah, but she smiled.

"Another guy said you looked super hot and asked if I ever got to tap that."

"Tap that?"

"Have sex with you," I explained.

"Who asked you that?!" she squealed.

"Todd McKinsey," I answered. He was a jerk too, so I didn't care if she knew it.

"Wait." She frowned. "Isn't he Sarah McKinsey's brother?"

"I don't know. Who's Sarah McKinsey?"

"She's a freshman. She's on the JV cheer squad."

"I don't hang around cheerleaders," I said. "I'm not their type."

"On my gosh! You don't suppose he's having sex with her, do you?"

"Why would you think that?" I asked.

"Well, he wanted to know if you were having sex with your sister," she said.

"What it sounded like was that he wanted to have sex with you," I said. "It's guy-speak, sort of a loose code."

"Still," mused Hannah. "She's really sweet. The idea of them having sex makes me feel ... I don't know ... creeped out?"

"That's a healthy attitude," I said.

"I don't get it," she said, almost to herself.

"Don't get what?"

We'd been sitting on the bed, side by side. The cookies and milk were long gone. She turned her head to look at me.

"Remember how I said Steve got to kiss me but you didn't?"


"The thought of kissing you doesn't seem creepy at all. Why would I think it was creepy for Sarah to kiss her brother?"

"We could find out," I suggested.

"Find out what?"

"Find out if us kissing is creepy."

She leaned against me.

"You're still jealous of Steve."

"No I'm not. He's history and I have viewed your succulent, sweet breasts. He has not. I merely want to retrieve what, before this, he laid claim to; that is your lips. Once I have recovered them, you may bestow them on some other poor, unfortunate lad at a future date."

She laid her head on my shoulder.

"I love you so much," she sighed. "Why can't other boys be so good to me?"

"Because you drive them insane with lust," I said. "They are brainless because what's in their head gets overridden by their balls."

"You are so full of it," she said. "Wanna take some naughty pictures?"


"Why not? I can think of no better way to get Steve out of my mind than getting to see your eyes looking at me the way you do. Yes. Tonight. Right now. Mom and Dad are in bed, right?"

"They are."

She bent over to pick her purse up off the floor where she'd dropped it. She rummaged around in it and pulled out her phone.

"Here," she said, handing it to me.

"Okay. What did you have in mind?"

"Something that would kill Steve if he saw it," she said.

"I thought we weren't thinking about Steve," I said.

"We are only thinking of him lying in a puddle on the ground, with all the blood in his body sucked into his stupid penis because of how hot I'm going to look in a minute. His whole body will be just an empty bag because he'll know he will never get to see me that way in real life."

"So ... topless?" I suggested.

She stared at me for a few seconds and then both eyebrows rose.

"You, little brother, have no imagination."

It was odd. I think you'll understand why in a second.

She made me stand up, take a step towards the door and face it.

"Don't turn around until I tell you," she warned.

I heard the rustle of clothing and, of all things, her soft breathing. I thought maybe she was going to pose in bra and panties, but if that was true, then why all this turn-and-face-the-door stuff? I'd seen her in a much more intimate way than bra and panties.

I heard the mattress sounds I had become used to. I have a memory foam mattress on a box spring. It makes noise as the foam is compressed, though not much. It's a sort of creaking kind of sound.

"Don't look, yet," came Hannah's voice.

"I'm not," I assured her. "What are you doing?"

"Trying to get your bedspread flat," she said. "Just stay there. I'm not ready."

"You're being very mysterious," I said.

"Good. That's what I'm going for."

Finally she said, "My hair isn't right, but you can fix that. You can turn around, now."

When I did, I either did so too quickly or her total nudity got to me, because I weaved for a second. She had positioned herself on top of my bedspread, with a pillow under one arm. Her back was to me and she looked almost like she was in the act of lying down. Her upper torso was semi erect, leaning on one elbow but her hips were firmly planted on the bed. Her knees were bent and her thighs out in front of her a little bit. Her hair covered a lot of her back, but her ass was completely bare.

I've never been an ass man. Well, let me change that. I had never been an ass man, but Hannah's gorgeous bubble butt changed all that.

It was pale, soft-looking. It just begged to be touched, stroked, and squeezed.

"My hair is probably all messed up," she said. I couldn't see her face, but I could hear her okay. "Do whatever it needs to do to make this look mysterious and interesting."

"So the object of the photo is to display your naked back?"

"That's what I thought. Is it stupid?"

"No," I said, a little urgently. "Not at all. It's beautiful."

"Okay. If you need me to move, just tell me."

I didn't have a brush, but her hair was fairly heavy, so I was able to lift it and comb it with my fingers. I wanted to see her whole back, so I just pooled her hair below her head. I could see her left breast over her shoulder.

"I don't know what to do with my left arm," she said.

That was the top arm.

"Just let it lie along your rib cage, with your hand on your hip."

I got back and looked. She looked ... delicious.

"I think you're going to like this," I said.

"Do you like it?" she asked.

"I love it," I sighed.

"Good. These pictures would kill Steve, but he'll never see them. They're just for you, my sweet little brother."

I moved around a little bit, up and down, left and right, seeing if that changed the perspective enough to matter.

There is a thing about women that I knew about, because of the city pool, but didn't know the name of. Since then I've heard it called the "Thigh gap". I don't know if that's official or not, but it's the place a woman's legs meet her loins, a sort of little triangle, or maybe even heart-shaped empty space that you can see through, just below her vulva. That's a very attractive part of a woman, especially if she's also displaying a camel toe.

I had seen Hannah's thigh gap before, of course, when she wore Megan's racing suit. But I had never viewed if from behind, like I was able to do at present. As I maneuvered, trying to get the perfect shot, I got to a place where I could see her thigh gap that way - from the rear. I found out what that gap was for, then. Not only does it show the person has no balls, and must therefore be female, it actually displays the lips that are the gate to the opening of the essence of her femininity.

Her fleshy, wrinkled pussy lips stared at me, like the eye of some very un-threatening Cyclops with its eyelid closed.

And I stared back.

I must have stared a long time because she asked, "What are you doing?"

"I'm staring at you," I sighed.

"Well take a picture. You can stare at that all you want, later."

"You'll make me delete this picture," I said. I licked my lips. Guys bragged about eating pussy. I'd never felt that urge before, but suddenly I wanted to eat this one.


"You'll see," I said.

I snapped a close-up of Hannah's Cyclops eye. Then I backed up and shot her entire body.

"You're so beautiful," I said, admiring the curve of her hip. "Move your left arm across your chest."


"Just do it."

She did and suddenly the line of her body became an undulating contour.

"Straighten your legs and point your toes," I said.

"Like this?"

"Imagine you're at the pool and in the middle of a dive and you want your legs as straight as possible and your toes as pointed as possible."

"I don't think they'd appreciate it if I was at the pool like this," she said. I could hear in her voice, the smile on her face.

"Oh yes they would," I said. "Well, the guys would. The girls would all hate you."


"Because they'd know they couldn't compete."

"You're sweet," she said. "Full of it, but sweet."

"I'm not full of it at all," I said. "We should have put this picture in your portfolio. It's amazing. It would look better on a satin sheet, and with better lighting, but it's still really good."

We played with that pose a little longer. I had her tense up all her muscles, which gave her legs a completely different look. I really was going to have to figure out some way to make a little studio with better lights, because I could get rich off of shooting just Hannah's back if I had the right lighting, background, and surface to put her on.

"Try looking over your shoulder at me," I said.

She did. I took a picture and she kind of went, "Urgh!" as she lost her balance and rolled onto her back. She landed with her heels a foot apart and both arms straight, with her hands a foot from each hip. I had the impression of Super girl, standing with her body shaped like an arrowhead, getting ready to fly up into the air.

Of course this Super girl was naked, and she was lying down instead of standing up. Some part of my mind filed away the idea of having her stand up and get into this pose.

Assuming ... of course ... she was going to allow any further pictures of her without clothes on.

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