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1.

Ellie was an amazing, beautiful, bright, charming child who ended up seducing me in the most astonishing way. Let me rewind a little first, and tell you how it happened.

In 1987 I was 17, in between the two years of A-level study. I was, my father thought, a bit of a waster, though in the fullness of time he has realised that I was just doing what I loved. He'd expected me to take useful subjects, such as mathematics, or the sciences, but instead I took English literature, art and photography, the last of which was a brand new subject.

Photography was my great love. Growing up in a rich family meant having the leisure time I needed to indulge my hobby, and by the time I'd reached my A-levels I was already getting the occasional commission from magazines up in London, and had even staged a small exhibition of my work. The summer I'd decided to spend in our townhouse on England's south coast, a little way along from the town of Brighton in a place called Deal. The promenade there lazily wound its way back and forth, rarely busy, but equally rarely empty.

I loved the house there, loved the way of life that it represented, and loved the fact that my dad was irked at me spending my summer there. But mum was on my side, and had persuaded him that I needed the time to complete a photography project, which was in fact quite true. So, three days after school had ended in a riot of water fights, I lugged all my kit and enough clothes to last me six weeks down to my slightly weary-looking veedub camper and headed for the coast.

Deal was exactly as it had been one year previously. The house was, of course, in excellent condition, though that owed entirely to the cleaner, and the odd-job man, who between them kept a pretty tidy ship during the winter months when the place remained unoccupied. I found my way to the top of the house, to the room that had always been mine, with its phenomenal views over the channel, lit by sunlight all day long as the great ball of flame made its way across the sky.

I had no idea whatsoever what I would be spending my time photographing, but I had weeks to think before I really needed to start getting the shots sorted. The first few days I did nothing but watch the world. I would wake up late, wander around the house naked to the bathroom and shower, and then dress in something casual before making my way downstairs and into the outside world. It was shaping up to be a hot summer, and down by the coast the temperature seemed just a little warmer than it had been further inland. I wandered around in shorts and a t-shirt, unworried by my scruffy appearance.

There was a camera shop locally - the very place, in fact, where I had first been snared by the hobby - and I made my way down there. I had plenty of spare cash to last the summer, as well as a rather generous allowance my mother had set up for me, and so I set about the serious business of choosing a new telephoto lens. The shopkeeper grinned when I entered, and welcomed me like an old friend. I was the best business he ever had, often waiting until the summer to buy new equipment. I asked what he had in stock in the way of lenses, and with a conspiratorial wink which I found rather odd, he closed the shop and beckoned me into his storeroom.

Suddenly the wink made sense. There, sitting on the table in all its splendour, was a brand new Carl Zeiss 100-400mm, just about perfect for what I wanted, and worth just about twice as much as I had considered spending. Even the shops back home - full of expensive, exclusive kit - couldn't get hold of one of these lenses, and here one was. I picked it up rather reverentially, while the shopkeeper wittered on about how he'd spent ages building up contacts to get the chance of having one of the first in the country. I wasn't listening to him any longer, though, I was lost in the wonder of the lens.

Absentmindedly, without asking for the shopkeeper's permission, I picked up a nearby body, flicked the dust cap free, and clicked the lens into place. I walked out of the store room and into the shop in a bit of a trance, and brought the viewfinder up to my eye. Sighting out of the window of the shop, I let the zoom play out to maximum telephoto and nearly cried with joy. The optics were so superb that even at full zoom the shot was as clear as day, not noticeably dimmed at all.

Slowly, carefully, I placed the body and the lens back on the counter, and informed the now-grinning shopkeeper that I would be back shortly. I didn't even bother to ask him to hold the lens - he knew that I was heading straight for the bank, and then straight back to the shop. Forty-five minutes later, I was back in my house clicking the lens into position on my own Nikon body and hurriedly ramming a new roll of film in. I didn't even see the little red blinking light on the answerphone as I rushed out of the door into the hazy late morning air of Deal.

The day was spent in absolute bliss, eating my way through a pocketful of film, taking pictures of practically everything that moved, and a lots of things that didn't. I grabbed lunch on the run, a quick sandwich that I barely noticed eating, so involved was I with my new power. That evening I returned to the house, pockets bulging with used film, and collapsed onto the sofa in the living room. I must have taken at least two hundred shots, maybe more, and some of them were probably worth exhibiting.

I'd never had such a productive day in my life, and certainly never gone through so many rolls of film. I sat there for a few moments, feeling the warmth of the sun as it cascaded through the open blinds of the living room, turning golden now as it headed for the horizon. I felt pretty good about life, and I was beginning to think of an idea for my photography project too.

I flicked on the television, and was just settling back into my chair when the phone rang. It was my mother, wondering why I hadn't called her, asking if I'd even bothered to check the phone. I knew she'd be annoyed that I'd spent so much money on the new lens, so I couldn't use that as an excuse for why I'd missed the message. I just made up some rubbish about feeling a little unwell, which immediately bought accusations of heavy drinking from my mother, even though she knew full well that I didn't really like alcohol anyway. I just brushed her off and asked what had got her so worked up. The answer was not at all what I was expecting.

'You remember your cousin Ellie, don't you?' she asked.

I did remember her, indeed I did. Ellie was the annoying nine-year old I'd met at a party a few years back, who spent the whole time talking to me about her horse, because she'd decided I would be interested. I wasn't.

'I think so,' I lied. It paid to be non-committal.

'Well, she'll be there tomorrow morning, you're to pick her up from the station.'

If I'd had a drink in my mouth, I'd have sprayed it theatrically across the room. As it was, I fairly choked on my own tongue.

'She'll be what, sorry?'

'You heard me, Zachary.'

Uh oh, she used 'Zachary'. That's never good.

'Ok, I heard what you said. Why's she coming here?'

'For a holiday. Your aunt and uncle could do with getting Ellie out from under their feet for a while, and so I suggested she could stay with you in the holiday house for a few weeks. I'm sure you'll get on just fine. And besides, I've added a little more to your allowance for the trouble. Just you be nice to her, do you hear me?'

Damn, she knew just which buttons to press. More money was always going to swing it, really. I just had to know one more thing...

'So, is she still into horses?'

2.

The train got in at nine thirty, which to my way of thinking was way too early, especially since I'd just about managed to train my body to enjoy sleeping in. Still, I had, after much prompting, promised my mother that I would look after Ellie, and the first thing that meant was picking her up from the station.

A fair crowd got off the train, and at first I had no idea where Ellie was. I was sort of craning my neck about, looking for the slightly plump young girl I knew when an angelic voice beside me said,

'Zack?'

It was her.

My God, it was her, but she was so different! Twelve now, and so changed from the little girl who'd prattled on to me about the plaiting on Binky's tail. She was blossoming, a good foot taller, with beautiful rosy cheeks and silky dark brown hair, which framed the face of an angel to match the voice. My goodness, I thought, I actually fancy my own twelve year old cousin! This was not good...

I managed to regain the power of speech just long enough to offer to take her bag, which she graciously allowed, and then led her out to the van. At some point, I don't know when, she slipped her warm little hand into mine, a friendship sort of thing, of course, but still something that made my heart beat a little faster.

She'd never seen the house before, so as soon as we got back I gave her the guided tour.

'So, which room's mine?' she asked as we trooped down from the attic, Ellie having insisted on seeing my room.

'I'm not sure, actually, which one do you want?'

'How about the other attic room?' she asked, clapping her hands in glee at the thought.

I wasn't entirely sure I liked the idea of sharing what had been my floor for so long. Of course, the other room was perfectly serviceable, with a good bed in it, but it had never really been used except on those occasions when we had an unusually high number of house guests.

'Are you sure you wouldn't rather have one of the bigger rooms?'

She shook her head.

'Nope, I want that one. It'll be fun up here with you all summer long!'

I sighed and gave in, and for some reason felt a little lurch in my stomach, like the faintest beatings of a butterfly's wings.

Ellie settled in pretty quickly, and I was pleased to find out that she could amuse herself pretty much all day long. She loved to draw, and although she wasn't all that talented, each and every sketch was more skilled than the last, so perhaps there would be something there sooner or later. In a particularly suicidal moment I asked her how her horse was, and somehow got away without a four hour lecture. It seemed she still loved riding, but had worked out that perhaps other people weren't quite as fascinated.

She was a graceful child, but not so stick thin that she looked unhealthy, which was unusual. At the time, the pop stars of the day were looking very much like the forerunners of the cocaine chic movement, their stomachs as empty as their minds, but Ellie seemed to have resisted the urge to copy them, unlike some of her peers. There was no way you could call her fat, she was just a lovely, healthy girl, with clear skin and rosy cheeks, and quite beautiful. I can call her that, now, because I know and understand her beauty. At the time, it took a while for me to admit it, first to myself, and then to her.

So Ellie spent her days drawing, and sometimes shopping. She spent my money, but for some reason I never felt compelled to refuse her requests. The cynical side of me would suggest that was because I was already under her spell, but the other part of me would like to think that I had a generous side. I would always have my camera with me, snapping shots here and there when she wasn't paying attention. I didn't deliberately focus just on Ellie, but it turned out that, as a by-product of spending so much time together, most of my shots were now of my cousin.

The shopkeeper at the camera shop noticed the change before I did. I explained that she was my cousin, and was staying with me, and that since we spent time together and I was photographing my environment, I photographed her. He leered at me whenever I picked up my shots, and I began to get the impression he thought something was happening that clearly wasn't. There was nothing suggestive in the photographs, and yet suddenly I was nervous, as if perhaps he would turn me into the police and I would be sent to prison for something that I really hadn't done.

It wasn't a rational thought, but it was powerful enough to make me reconsider getting my photos developed at the shop. Another shop was out of the question to my paranoid mind, so I made the decision to set up my own dark room. It didn't cost much to buy the equipment, not considering how much allowance I was earning by looking after Ellie, but I had to travel to Brighton to buy it, because I simply couldn't face returning to the old shop to get the kit. I still hadn't done anything inappropriate, and yet I felt like a criminal, with subterfuge foremost in my mind.

Ellie was intrigued by the darkroom kit, and was eager to understand it. She seemed to want to spend more time around me, doing what I did, getting into the photography side of things and asking if she could take pictures now and again. So, I had picked up a fairly cheap body and lens when I bought the dark room kit, and proceeded to show her not only how to use the tools, but also how to develop her own photos.

We had great fun that first day, running around town, taking photos of everything, using up rolls and rolls of film. At the end of the day, we put the films in to develop, and Ellie came over to me with the camera she'd been using.

'Where do you want me to put your camera, Zack?'

I was a little confused for a second, then realised that Ellie thought she was merely borrowing the device.

'El,' which was rapidly becoming my pet name for her, 'the camera's yours. I bought it for you as a present.'

Her eyes went wide, as though the idea of me buying her something was the most shocking of surprises. Then she said 'thankyou' and grabbed me in a bear hug, arms around my torso, warm little body pressed into mine. I wrapped my arms around her, and bent down slightly to give her a little kiss on the top of the head. I don't know why I did it, but she responded by hugging even tighter, if that was possible, and then skipping away without a backward glance. It took me a few moments to realise that I was just a little bit excited by the contact, and I hoped fervently that she hadn't felt it.
 
The next morning I found Ellie on the floor of the living room with a book in her lap. It was one of the big photography books my parents kept on a bookshelf running the entire length of the room, and it had probably only been looked at a couple of times in fifteen years. I recognised it, because one of the times it had been looked at was when I was thirteen and very horny. You see, it was a book full of photographic nudes, mostly of young women. I had spent a happy hour and a half while my parents went out one day, knowing that they wouldn't be back, furiously masturbating over the pictures in my room. I'd not had another chance to look at it that summer, and by the following year had inherited some pornography from a schoolfriend and had absolutely no need of it. I'd not even remembered the book until now.

'They're absolutely beautiful,' Ellie muttered when she realised I was in the room.

She was totally un-self-conscious about being caught with the book, because for her it really was about the photography, not the erotica. I still gave her a rather odd look, though, to which she responded,

'Not like that, pervert!'

She gave a coarse little chuckle, and returned to the book. I was a little surprised that she knew what 'that' was, though at twelve and attending a girls' boarding school I realised it was feasible for her to have an understanding of what a lesbian was, even if she might not know the terminology.

'He has a good way with light, hasn't he?'

It was a weak thing to say. I should have said something deeply cool at that point, but I had to discuss the guy's way with light. Ellie nodded her agreement, though, throwing her deeply uncool cousin a lifeline.

'Have you ever taken any pictures like these?' she asked, lifting the book slightly as though I didn't know its contents to the very last page.

'Er, no,' I stuttered. 'No, I've never managed to get a model to pose for me.'

'Hmmm.'

It was a response which was at the same time both full of meaning, and devoid of any hint of Ellie's thoughts. It could have meant 'really, haven't you, maybe we should do something about this', or equally it could have said 'no wonder, you're such a geek and you can't take photos like these anyway'. I hoped in the dark hours as I mulled the conversation over that it meant the former, but my rational mind suggested otherwise.

I managed to forget the incident with the book - and the tightening I'd felt in my loins at the possible implications of Ellie's questions - after a couple of days, and went back to worrying about my project. It wasn't so much that I was concerned about the deadline, but rather that I worried that I would never come up with a subject. It was entirely up to me to decide, within the single constraint of the word 'nature'.

Our teacher had explained that this could mean anything, not just the natural world, as long as we could forge a believable link between our pictures and the word. A few ideas had come to mind, but I wanted something mind-blowing, not mundane. I needed an edge. I sat at the breakfast table one morning deep in thought, a spoonful of cereal half way to my mouth, when Ellie walked in.

'What's up?' she said as she sat, pouring herself some juice.

'Huh? Oh, nothing, sorry. Just worried about this project.'

'Still don't know what you're doing then?' she asked.

It seemed somewhat a source of amusement for Ellie that her big clever cousin couldn't come up with an idea. I shook my head, ready for the laughter.

'You know,' she started, guile dripping off every word, 'you could take some photos like the ones in that book.'

It was my turn to laugh.

'And where do you think I'll get someone to pose for me?'

Ellie suddenly looked uncomfortable, and shrugged her reply, before looking down at the table. The penny dropped, and it made a hell of a noise on the way down. I edged a little way out along the branch of reason, over the great expanse of deep, deep insensibility. I asked the question.

'You mean you would pose for me?'

She didn't answer straight away, and when she did, her voice was meek and full of repressed pain. She must have thought she detected mirth in my voice.

'You don't have to laugh, you know. I know I'm not as pretty as the other girls.'

I could see her face reddening slightly, and it looked as though she was on the verge of tears. Not knowing what else to do, I grabbed her hand across the table and put a finger beneath her chin to lift her eyes to meet mine.

'Ellie,' I started, heart beating as I realised that I was about to say this, and I didn't want to stop myself, 'I think you're the most beautiful girl in the world, and I'd love you to pose for me.'

She wiped a tear from the corner of her eye as hope flooded back into her little world, hope that I wasn't lying.

'Really?'

'Really. You're absolutely gorgeous, and I'm sure you'd make the perfect model.'

She brightened.

'Just you wait and see!' she said.

3.

I waited nervously, fiddling with the camera settings and metering the light in the first floor sitting room. It was the lightest room in the house, with the exception of my bedroom, and we were going to use the natural light for mood. I could hear the slow footsteps as Ellie nervously made her way down from her room in the attic. I'd expected her to turn up wearing a dressing gown, but as she appeared in the doorframe I realised that she was entirely naked. My heart skipped a beat, and the sudden rush of blood to more remote regions of my anatomy left me light-headed and reeling.

Ellie smiled nervously as I surveyed her, and I realised that if I wasn't in love then I was most surely in lust. She was perfectly proportioned, for a girl yet to enter womanhood that is. She had no breasts to speak of, just little buds, and the curve of her stomach lead down to a pubic region devoid of any hair, showing her perfect, soft cleft to the world. Her limbs were toned but not thin, muscled but not boyish. Her stomach had the very slightest signs of baby fat still showing, a delightful shape that caught the light and did wonderfully erotic things with every photon. As she stood there, hands nervously entwined behind her back, I gazed on the modern Venus, the new, young beauty that would redefine the word.

I hardly recall that photo shoot, except in the pictures that it produced. Black and white, they show the dramatic shadows cast over Ellie's smooth body by the late morning sun. The model herself is relaxed in a chair, legs over the side, and then languorously stretched out on the sofa, arm covering her eyes, and then at the window, one leg cocked slightly as she peeks out from between the net curtains. In every shot she looks carved from the smoothest marble by the finest sculptor the world has ever known.

What I do recall, vividly, is the release I sought when we were done, and the moment I was caught masturbating by my cousin. She left to return to her room, to dress herself and once again hide away that perfect body. I was so close to my own release without even touching myself that I knew only a moment would be needed, and quickly grabbed some tissues from the box on one of the occasional tables. I went at it with my trousers still in place around my waist, and within seconds was emptying my essence into the tissues. Only as I came down from my orgasmic high did I hear a gasp and notice the shadows moving by the door. Ellie had seen me, that much was certain, and suddenly I felt sick to the stomach.
 
I couldn't face her that night, it was too difficult. I hid out in my room, and she didn't come knocking for me. In my mind, I had betrayed her. I shouldn't have let her pose for me in the first place, and now I had proven to her that I was just a pervert trying to sneak a look at her body. She must have thought me a complete monster. I imagined all kinds of repercussions, from simple hatred of me right through to contacting the police. I came within an inch of destroying the film, but for some reason stopped myself from doing so. I can't clearly remember my thinking, but I have a feeling it was along the lines of 'I've done something terrible and deserve to be punished, so if the police find the photos, that's fine'. I slept, eventually, but it was a fitful sleep often punctuated by nightmares.

When morning came, my mood had become one of resigned acceptance, that I had to face whatever outcome awaited me. I trudged downstairs and sat at the table, nursing a coffee, letting its warmth infuse my body, cold even though it was already warming up to be a hot day outside. I heard footsteps above, and steeled myself for the inevitable. Instead of hatred, though, I was greeted with warm arms around my neck and a kiss on the cheek.

I reeled somewhat in confusion. Here was the girl who had seen me pleasuring myself having just completed a naked photo shoot of her. She should have been disgusted by me, not pleased that it was morning. My mind kicked into gear, and a tiny yet still extant flame of hope blossomed deep down.

It was fuelled by Ellie, who sat down across from me and started chewing on a bit of the toast I had prepared. She grinned at me and asked how long it would be before the photos of the previous day would be ready. In my haze, I had somehow managed to do most of the developing before I retired to my room, and I realised with a shock that they would be nearly ready. I relayed this to Ellie, but before I could say 'but I don't think we should finish them', she was hauling me up from the table and dragging me into the makeshift darkroom.

I went through the rest of the process like a zombie, washing the prints off and hanging them up to dry. Ellie watched each intently as the images came into view, studying them as though she hadn't posed for them. I couldn't help but grow physically excited as I watched the images appear, try as I might to think of the implications. If Ellie noticed in the darkness, she did not comment. Some of the photos were simply beautiful - we'd tried to hide her sex in shadow as much as possible, and the effect was stunning, and artistic in the truest, least lecherous sense.

Others were erotic, deeply so, and the look on Ellie's face, seemingly content as it was, suggested that maybe she was going for the look. One picture, though, stood out from the others. It was a damn good photo, but it wasn't artistic, or erotic, it was just plainly sexual. Ellie was reclined on the couch with one leg bent at the knee and resting on the seat back, and the other with its foot on the floor. Her legs were spread wide, and between them, at the junction of her thighs, her sex was split open right down the middle. Even in the red light of the darkroom I could tell she was blushing, but then she surprised me by giving the cutest little giggle.

'I don't think you can use that one for your project!'

One thing was certain - I wasn't going to be in trouble for taking the photos, and it even seemed that I might get away with what Ellie had seen. Perhaps she thought I was a bit sad, but not worth complaining to anyone about. I was so hard from seeing the product of our day's work that I shut myself in my room for a while after showering, and allowed myself a good, slow release from tension. In that annoying way that women have, Ellie seemed to know what I had been doing in there, but didn't say anything, instead just giving me a rather lurid smirk of acknowledgement when I made it back downstairs.

Ellie wanted to explore further down the coast that afternoon, so we made a quick picnic of all sorts of things our parents would have disapproved of, including a little cider, and piled into the combi van. Almost out of habit we packed a load of camera gear and plenty of rolls of film. About twenty miles down the coast we found what we were looking for. Set back from the beach was an area of rolling grassland, with a wood at its furthest extent. A little way into the wood there was a car park, where we left the combi. I shouldered our gear and we moved off into the woods.

It was utterly idyllic in there, shaded from the heat of the afternoon sun, with little rills crisscrossing our path and not another soul in sight. The further we went into the woods the better it got, until we stumbled into a clearing around the plunge pool of a little waterfall. We decided it would be a good place to sit and eat, but first Ellie wanted to try the water in the pool. She seemed to know it would be cold, but that didn't phase her. When I remarked that I had no idea she was wearing a swimsuit under her clothes she replied with a bright smile that she wasn’t, before proceeding to unabashedly strip down to nothing at all and make for the pool.

As if hypnotised by what was happening in front of me, I reached for my camera and started firing off shots. Ellie's body with water cascading from it was even more beautiful than Ellie's form dry, and I was soon finding it uncomfortable to sit there. She splashed around at the edge of the pool for a while, giving me some lovely shots of the dappled light falling across her skin, before rejoining me, sitting naked and dripping on the pile of her clothes. She hugged her knees, affording me the perfect view of the lips of her mound being pressed together, the inner parts protruding a little, but I decided that was one shot too far.

When Ellie asked why I'd stopped taking photos, I replied that she had stopped posing. She shrugged, as if to say that she didn't have to be posing for me to be shooting. I took the hint, and started taking a few close-ups of her face, keeping it clean for the time being. As the warm air heated her body, Ellie began to relax a little, and leaned back on her elbow, exposing her front to me. She also grabbed a bottle of cider and flicked the cap off, taking a healthy swig.

As she warmed more and drank more, the poses became increasingly lurid, and it dawned on me that Ellie was showing off, acting sexily, trying to impress me. These most certainly weren't shots for the project, they were much more personal. They were photos for me, or maybe for us, to enjoy in private. This became shockingly clear when Ellie's left hand, which had been stroking the inside of her left thigh, began to travel upwards a little.

I thought she might just be teasing for the camera, but the hand continued until it was resting over her sex, and then it sank downwards, plunging her middle finger in between the folds of flesh. There was no pretence now, she was masturbating for the camera, for me. I reached orgasm almost as soon as she touched herself, but carried on reeling off pictures while my warm essence trickled down the inside of my leg. Ellie enjoyed herself for another few minutes before succumbing to the pleasure, shaking all over and moaning a little - the first noise she had made - as her climax overtook her.

With a contented little smile, she drifted off to sleep. I couldn't help but gaze at the area between her legs, slick with her fluids, which had cascaded down towards the floor, darkening the rest of her skin on the way. I took one more shot, a huge close-up of her most intimate areas lying exposed to the world and my lens, before furiously masturbating to another climax over the scent which wafted up from her drenched slit. She smiled at me when she awoke, and muttered something about us being even now which I didn't bother to ask her to repeat.

She dressed slowly, not overly keen to be getting back into her clothes, but aware that she had been naked for some time and it was a bit of a miracle no-one had come past. As a little sign of rebellion, though, she left her panties off, stuffing them into the rucksack with some determination. We left the glade after eating a little to replenish our energy levels, and carried on walking for a while. Every so often, Ellie would run ahead and get me to take photos of her, usually when she was climbing over a stile or a low wall, and I could clearly see her nakedness beneath the light summer skirt.

Now that she had tasted exhibitionism, it seemed that she wanted more. We nearly got caught a couple of times, but that only served to heighten her excitement, sending her into fits of giggles, and producing an effect which was quite noticeable between her legs, a darkening and plumping up of her sex that she happily showed off at the earliest opportunity. For my part I spent the whole time trying not to have too obvious an erection, and having to head behind a low wall at one point to relieve myself, only to find as I neared orgasm and looked up that Ellie was on top of the wall.

My camera was in her hands, and she was snapping away, her open legs and glistening lips the perfect way to send me over the edge. The rest of the afternoon returned fairly much to normal, with the exception of Ellie and I going our separate ways to relieve whatever tension there was left in our bodies. I don't know why we didn't just do it right there in front of each other - after all, we had little to hide now. Perhaps it was the fact we were no longer doing it for the camera, that somehow that little lens made all the difference. I put the film into develop that night, and after one last climax for the day drifted off to a peaceful slumber.

I awoke the next morning to the feeling of someone climbing into bed with me. For a second I panicked, remembering that I slept naked, but it was too late. Ellie was already snuggling back against me, firming up my morning erection with a little wiggle of her bum. This was the most overtly sexual contact we'd ever had, and yet it seemed so natural to hold her there in my arms.

'I finished these off this morning,' she said after a little while, lifting her arm to show me a bundle of photos. 'Want to look through them with me?'

My manhood responded before I could do so verbally, lurching against her lower back.

'I'll take that as a yes, then,' she said with a giggle. The pictures started off fairly tamely, as those taken a couple of days previously had. But as soon she had exited the water, the shots took on a new tone, oozing a raw sexuality that had me leaking wetness onto Ellie's t-shirt. With a resigned sigh, which turned at its end into one perhaps of pleasure, she dropped the photos onto the bed and lifted her shirt, then dropped her panties, before picking the prints back up and snuggling into me once more.

Now our flesh touched everywhere, and as the photos became more and more intense, the picture story of Ellie's pleasure growing to its peak, I hunched into her, smearing lubricant all over her lower back. Eventually, my hind brain took over, and I hunched a little lower, rewarded by the feeling of dipping into the hot slickness of Ellie's slit, my head bumping up against her most private entrance.

She jumped a little at the contact, muttered 'not yet', and reached down with a hand to pull me forward, resting the top of my shaft in the greasy warmth of her sex. I took the hint, and despite having nearly reached my climax as her hot little fingers wrapped around me, I managed to thrust backwards and forwards for a while before firing a liberal load into the sheets in front of us both. Ellie sighed when she realised what had happened, though I couldn't gauge what it meant.

She continued to look through the prints as the imagery became more and more intense, and with an arm wrapped around her I realised I could reach the wet heat between her legs. I drifted my hands downwards, not stopping until my finger forced its way between her lips. Ellie whimpered a little and thrust her hips forward, burying my invading digit even deeper in the folds of her sex, before straightening again.

I took it as a sign that she wouldn't mind me continuing, and as she neared the end of the photos I noticed that even more fluid was flooding from her, covering my hand and her upper legs, and wafting the most wonderfully erotic scent up from beneath the covers. As she reached the pictures she had taken of me after I'd retired behind the wall, she rolled slightly towards me and spread her legs wide, throwing the covers back.

The pictures lay abandoned as she writhed in pleasure next to me, thrusting her hips up to meet my finger. As she neared orgasm, the hip thrusts forced my finger deeper and deeper into her cleft, and at last my fingertips penetrated her, slipping in and out of the tight ring of muscle which stood guard inside the entrance. I needed to know how far I could go, and there was no objection as my finger plunged deeper and deeper on the in-stroke, fully penetrating her to the knuckle at last, pumping in and out, making obscenely wet noises as I pushed her further out over the edge.

She climaxed with a gasp and a tiny little cry, like a scream she had tried to hold in. Her hot, wet tunnel of flesh clenched around my finger, expelling it and then sucking it back in, time after time. Eventually it was pushed outwards one last time, and Ellie grabbed my wrist, stopping me, pushing me away and pulling my finger from her tightly grasping centre. With another sigh, a huge expulsion of breath, she rolled over onto me and rested her head on my shoulder, dripping sweat and drifting off to sleep.

The pattern of our relationship changed. It had to. We were no longer simply cousins occupying the same space, we had crossed the line into a different territory altogether. I felt guilty while Ellie slept, ashamed that I had taken advantage of her in that way, and yet as soon as she woke I was happy that I had. Her smile washed away those bad feelings, made it alright again. She rolled off the bed still naked and padded downstairs in her bare feet, returning a few minutes later with a drink in one hand and my camera in the other.

'More photos?' I asked, and she replied with a nod, whilst gulping at the drink.

With an un-ladylike burp and a quick giggle, she placed the glass on my bedside table, and then stretched backwards across the bed, a nymphet now, a sexually deviant little creature that demanded to be immortalised. As she lay there on the bed, I could feel the last remnants of my resistance crumbling, broken down by the sight of her form. The rest of her body would be mine in the fullness of time, but for now I contented myself with what the camera would capture. The summer was ahead of us, and it was ours to play with. And play we did...