Take a good look first

Ariana stepped away from him, her bare feet silent on the floor. She walked toward the old swivel chair in the corner of the room—the one she used for reading, for scrolling on her phone, for lounging. She sat down in it with a confident, easy grace, leaning back against the cushion.

Then she looked at him.

And slowly, deliberately, she spread her legs wide.

The chair creaked softly as she settled into it, her thighs falling open without hesitation, without modesty. Her knees pointed outward, her feet resting on the edges of the chair's arms. She was completely, totally open to him.

Josh stood frozen, his heart slamming against his ribs.

Her pussy was right there. Pink and soft, surrounded by that thick, dark bush of hair. The folds were slightly parted, glistening with a wetness that caught the lamplight. It looked warm. Intimate. Alive.

"Kneel," she said, her voice quiet but firm. "Come closer. And look, you virgin boy."

He blinked. "I... I'm not..."

"Oh please." She laughed softly, her chest rising and falling. "I'm your sister and a woman. I can tell." She tilted her head, her blonde hair spilling over her shoulder. "You've never seen one of these up close, have you? In real life?"

He opened his mouth. Closed it. Shook his head.

"I knew it." She leaned forward slightly, her elbows on her knees, which only opened her wider. "Porn doesn't count, Josh. Pixels on a screen. Airbrushed. Fake." She gestured down at herself with a sweep of her hand. "This is real. This is what a woman looks like."

He swallowed hard, his throat clicking.

"Come on," she urged, her voice softening into something almost gentle. "This is your chance. Don't waste it."

His legs moved before his brain gave permission. He walked toward her on shaky limbs and lowered himself to his knees between her open thighs.

The floor was hard against his shins. His face was now level with her hips, just inches from her.

He could smell her. A warm, musky, sweet scent that filled his nostrils and made his head spin. He could see every detail. The way her inner lips peeked out from the surrounding hair. The tiny glistening drops of moisture beading along the edges. The soft, delicate skin, so different from his own.

"So," Ariana said, looking down at him with a mixture of amusement and something deeper, something darker. "What do you think, little brother? Is it what you expected?"

He couldn't speak. He just stared, his breath coming in short, shallow gasps.

She reached down and brushed his hair back from his forehead, her touch light and almost tender.

"Don't be scared," she murmured. "It won't bite. Unless I tell it to."

He let out a shaky laugh, his eyes still locked on her.

"That's better," she said. "Now. Make yourself at home."