Cammie’s dreaming about a certain bad boy now that she’s got her own place.
Pretty much my entire life, I’ve shared a bedroom with at least one sibling. With three brothers and my parents cramped in a two-bedroom apartment, there isn’t a lot of space for privacy. Or modesty, come to think of it. Most times when I needed to change, I’d grab my stuff and head either to the bathroom or to the nearest closet, even if there were brooms and mops inside. That’s how packed we were.
But a girl can dream. After all, there was a blissful time many years ago when I got to have my own bedroom. I think one of my brothers was in the hospital, another was at summer camp, and I have no idea where the third one was. Regardless, it was a few months of peace, quiet, and privacy whenever the bedroom door was shut. Sheer heaven, if you ask me. Not that I remember it that clearly, seeing that I was really young myself at the time.
But now, I finally get to experience it all over again. I’ve moved out into my own place, and this time, I’m old enough to remember everything. There’s stuff strewn around my entire one-bedroom apartment, but I don’t care. This is mine, all mine! Mom, Dad, Mikey, Les, and Winston just left after helping me move in, and they won’t be coming back tonight to sleep. It’s a disaster with luggage and boxes strewn about, but I don’t care. The apartment is silent, and that’s a blessing.
I smile. I don’t own a ton. It’s mostly my clothes that are rumpled and old, spilling out of garbage bags. There’s a small mattress for me in the bedroom, a tiny dresser I found on the side of the road, and a hand-me-down table that my best friend’s husband gave me to christen the new apartment.
I’ll need to buy a few things: a couch, for one, so that I can actually sit down in the living room. Plus, a TV. I don’t know what I’ll do if I can’t watch my favorite shows, and thankfully, cable is free here.
It’s one of the perks of this apartment building. I may have to pay for internet and utilities, but at least I get to indulge in my guilty pleasure, reality TV, whenever I want. I love all the shows, including Below Deck, The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills, and my fave, Vanderpump Rules. Thank goodness for Bravo.
Suddenly, my phone buzzes on the stove.
“Hey, Caitlin!” I sing. “Oooh, guess where I am now?”
My friend giggles.
“Hey, girlfriend! I think I can guess, judging from your excited tone. I’m so sorry I couldn’t help you move in.”
I roll my eyes. Caitlin has her hands full with her little girl, Peony. I didn’t expect her to drop everything to help me, especially since my siblings and parents could easily pitch in.
“You’ve done so much for me already,” I say.
“Well, I’m going to come by. I made you curtains, isn’t that awesome? That way, the neighbors won’t see you strutting around naked.”
I laugh. Typical Caitlin. She’s a fashion designer, but she’s recently branched out into home décor and my friend’s loving every second of it. I love it, too, because she recently hired me to design some graphics for her company, Get Pressed, and those graphics are a wonderful representation of my work.
“You’re the best. I’m sure I’ll love the curtains.”
My friend giggles.
“You will. They’re blackout drapes but they’re the best color of teal I have ever seen.”
“Ooh, my favorite! I didn’t even know that blackout drapes could be in any other color than black!”
Caitlin clucks.
“You’ll see, girlfriend. It’s magic. I’ll bring them over for you tomorrow.”
“Are you sure? I know you’re busy.”
“Of course, I’m sure! I miss you, Cam. Being a mom is a non-stop whirlwind, and you know I’m working on top of that too. Don’t ever have kids,” she says in a confidential voice. “Because they will drive you absolutely nuts.”
I merely laugh because I know Caitlin loves her life. She’s now married to billionaire tycoon Travis Simpson of Simpson Auto Parts, and they dote on their daughter. Not only that, but Caity’s expecting again, and I know my buddy’s looking forward to growing their family.
“I miss you too,” I sing. “By the way, did you catch Below Deck last night? Wasn’t that crazy what happened with the wine bottle?”
Caitlin and I spend a few minutes catching up. I love that our friendship is never strained, even if we go weeks without talking. We always find ways to chat and gossip like we’ve never been apart.
During a break in the conversation, Cait asks, “So, what are you doing tonight? You’ve got your own place now! Any wild plans?”
I grin.
“I’ll probably just sleep. I’m exhausted.”
Caitlin chuckles. “Hey, that’s a good plan because at least it’ll be quiet without people banging around while you try to get some zzz’s.”
That’s the truth. At my parents’ place, it was so crowded that it was impossible to sleep without ear plugs and an eye covering. Here, that should be no problem. But then a pang strikes my heart.
“I almost miss the chaos,” I say.
“You can always go visit,” Cait consoles me. “I’m sure your parents would love it.”
I perk up.
“I know. I’m glad I’m only a few blocks away because I don’t think I could ever move further than that.”
Cait sighs.
“Me, neither. I really love Medina. Oh, I should probably go before Peony wakes up from her nap. I’ll talk to you tomorrow, okay? Enjoy the silence!”
I laugh.
“Alright, bye. Love you, girlfriend.”
“Love you more.”
We hang up, and my apartment is quiet once again. I look around, astonished by the silence. It’ll be nice to have curtains up in the living room, come to think of it. Right now, I have a nice view of the building next door and the parking lot across the street. Not exactly the most beautiful sights to see all the time.
Plus, I don’t want anyone to be able to see me, come to think of it. I’ve heard super creepy things about peeping toms, and this is the first time I’m living by myself. I don’t want some dirty old dudes looking at me while I change. Eeew!
Nonetheless, I sigh happily. I don’t care that the view isn’t great and that the apartment’s a bit shabby. I don’t even care (right now) that there may be peeping toms with their binoculars out. This is all mine!
I spin around in a lazy circle with my arms outstretched, savoring the space. Okay, so maybe I’m renting, but that doesn’t matter. I earned this apartment, and I’m going to celebrate.
In the kitchen is a half-fridge. It’s not quite the mini-version that people have in college dorms, but it’s not a full-sized fridge, either. Instead, it fits under the counter neatly, like a white box filled with treasures. It’ll work just fine for me.
I swing the door open and grab the bottle of wine inside that Caitlin and her husband sent me. It’s probably expensive, and I should wait until I can share it with friends, but I want to celebrate tonight. What better way to do so than with a fancy bottle of cab?
My only cups are red plastic ones left over from summertime barbecues. I pull one out, pretending like this is the college experience I never got to have.
“Cheers,” I say to no one. “Huzzah!”
I take a sip and smile, looking around again. This place rocks, and I’m happy with my living situation even if the walls are bare and the countertops dingy. I’ll slowly add décor to make the place truly my own. Maybe a few posters on the walls, a small fiddle-leaf fig by the door, and a few candles in the fireplace. Yes, that’s it. It would create the right ambience, striking a tone that says “independent, intelligent young woman.”
But then, a naughty idea comes to mind.
I shake my head. No, I can’t. I’ve never even thought to do something like this before. But maybe I can, seeing that I have my own place now.
After all, when you live with your parents, there are certain things that are off the table. Especially if you’re sharing a room with a younger brother. In fact, I’m still a virgin because there were frankly no opportunities. Unless I wanted to climb out the window in the dead of night and scale down five stories, someone was always watching me. But now, I can do a lot of things. The old rules no longer apply, and I smile.
I’m going to do it. I’m going to take nude photos of myself.
I blush. Over the last few months, I’ve started going to the gym because I wanted to tone up a bit. I’m not fat by any means, but I’m a bigger girl, and I wanted to be a bit more lush and less jiggly. My butt is juicy and heart-shaped. My waist is small and trim, and my breasts are the perfect size. They’re not so enormous that they hurt my back, but they’re certainly generous enough so that I have plenty of cleavage.
So why shouldn’t I take nude photos of myself? I look damn good. I admire myself in the mirror after every shower now, and turn this way and that, marveling at my figure. So seeing that I have the privacy, I’m finally going to take some naughty snaps.
Caitlin would be proud of me. She always tries to be positive, telling me that I’m beautiful, but somehow the words don’t stick. If she knew what I’m about to do, she’d be cheering support and encouragement.
Slowly, I strip out of my clothes, tossing them carelessly to the floor, and climb onto my bed. The lighting is surprisingly good in my new bedroom and I’m careful to stay out of any sightlines so the neighbors don’t see.
Then, I open my camera app and take a couple test photos. I start with just my face and then slowly begin to incorporate my breasts. They’re enormous and creamy, with pink-tipped nipples. I tug at one playfully as jolts run down from my tit to my pussy. Oooh, that feels good! Snapping another pic, I wet my fingers and circle my nips so that they appear glossy and wet in the photos. Perfect.
But I want to get a full-body shot too because I’ve been working hard at the gym, and this is the time to memorialize my efforts. Shifting a bit, I manage to hold the phone far enough away that I can get my entire torso, all the way from my naughty smile down to my knees. My lushness is on display, from those big tits to the pink slit between my legs which is already gleaming wetly.
God, this is making me so hot!
I throw my head back, moaning a bit while stroking myself between the thighs. A man’s face pops unbidden into my mind, and I sigh again. I know who it is: Troy Simpson, Caitlin’s brother in law. I met him only once, ages ago at my friend’s house, and he got my number but never called. To say I was disappointed would be an understatement. Devastated is more like it.
But that doesn’t stop me from dreaming, and at the moment, Troy’s black hair, blue eyes, and chiseled features come to mind. He’s godawful gorgeous, with broad shoulders, a wide chest and long legs to boot. He’s got to be at least six foot four, with a devilish grin and a glint in those sapphire eyes. I wonder what Troy is doing right now because I definitely wish he were here with me.
My hand wanders between my legs, toying with my hard nub. Ooooh, that feels good! Wetness gushes into my palm and I giggle breathily as I snap a photo of the naughtiness. This is another thing I rarely had time for at home. I could only ever get myself off during my ten-minute showers and certainly not with a camera in hand.
But it’s not enough. I need more, so I prop my camera up against a picture frame, setting it to automatic. Then I turn around and lean forward, pushing my big bottom in the air so that the lens has a view of my pink pussy, swollen and wet.
“You’d like to use a toy on me, wouldn’t you?” I whisper, pretending that it’s Troy in the room with me. “You’d like to put that big rubber one in me, right? The black one that’s ten inches? Oh no? You want to put your cock in instead?”
I close my eyes and picture the gorgeous pilot as I rub my stiff nub. I wiggle my hips, spreading my legs even wider before pulling my pussy open so that the camera can see the dripping pink of my interior walls. It’s obscene, but I’m the only one who will see these pics, so it’s okay. I toss my head back again and moan.
“Oh, fuck yeah, Troy. You like watching me touch myself?”
With my other hand, I squeeze and tease my nipples. They’ve always been extremely sensitive and I can almost see his dark head bending to take one between his lips.
“Oh, God, I’m not going to last long, if you keep doing that. You want me to come?”
I pretend like the man in my head responds, begging me to finish myself in front of him.
“Fuck, I’m coming!”
My entire body shakes as a violent orgasm overtakes me. My head drops back as I let out a full-throated scream, my pussy convulsing hard as wetness gushes from between my legs. I shake, shimmy, and holler until the energy drains from me and then collapse on my bed, my phone still photographing the incredible interlude.
Finally, I rouse and prop myself up half-way on my elbows. Wow, that was amazing, and I can do that whenever I want now. Hell, I’ll be doing that every night, or twice a night, if I feel like it. The only problem? I just wish that Troy Simpson were here with me because my climaxes would be ten times more powerful, and twenty times more satisfying. But it’s okay. The wetness between my thighs is warm and sticky and I smile naughtily. Somehow, I’ll find a way to get to know him. The question is how?
To be continued …
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