Tell Me 27

With thanks to Jasmine27 for help with the editing.

*

I'm sitting on my bed reading through some of the emails you have sent me. I don't know who you are or how you know me. But you do know me. And I know it's wrong but it does excite me to know that you are out there.

It started with a seemingly innocent email, friendly, I thought perhaps we had meet in the past and I had forgotten you. Or I thought perhaps it was sent to me by mistake. But I quickly realised that wasn't the case.

It startled me when I opened that second email from you. You commented on my work clothes. Do you work with me? Do we walk past each other on the street?

You liked the summer dress I was wearing. It was a light cotton dress, with short sleeves and a hem resting just above the knee. Suitable for work, or so I thought. But you told me that when the sun was just right, the material became see through. You could see the shape of my thighs, you questioned whether I was wearing any knickers, as you couldn't see them through the dress.

You admired the way my dress would ride up slightly when I bent over, but never enough for you to see what you want. Now, that I think about it, you must work with me. My mind is racing....

But wait, your third email complimented me on my cleavage. You said you had never seen such beautiful tits before, and that when I entered the coffee shop wearing a strappy top and short denim skirt, my hard nipples were visible when the cold air hit my chest. You kept trying to catch a glimpse up my skirt as I enjoyed a coffee and a chat with my friend. You asked if I always wear a thong. Yes, normally I do.

Do you go to the same coffee shop as me?

You asked me if I ever bought sexy lingerie. You suggested a peek-a-boo bra, with the half cups. I didn't know what you meant, so I went online. Oh my!

I ordered a pink lace peek-a-boo bra and matching thong, that very day. I was so excited when they arrived 3 days later. I ran straight to my bedroom to try them on.

Standing in front of my mirror, I could hardly take my eyes off of myself. The bra pushed my full, creamy white tits up high, almost like they were on offer. And the half cups? Never before had I worn something like that. The bra only covered the bottom of my tits, my nipples and most of my areolas were on display.

I watched as my nipples became hard. I had never felt so sexy. I ran my hands over my breasts. My skin was warm and smooth. I have to admit I gave my nipples a little pinch.

My pussy was visible through the light pink lace. I could see the slit of my pussy lips and turning to the side I admired the naked, rounded flesh of my bum cheeks.

The following day was Friday and I wore my new underwear to work. I wore it for you.

Did you notice?

I was wearing a skirt and a blouse. When I looked closely in the mirror I could see my nipples. I hoped you could see them too. I was aroused all day at the thought of it. I went for a coffee after work, just in case. Sitting on my own in the back corner, facing the room, I parted my legs. Were you watching, could you see my thong? Did the light pink lace look like I wasn't wearing any knickers?

I was so wet when I got home. My face and chest were flushed. My nipples hard, my chest was rising and falling quickly as I struggled to catch my breath. But this only caused my exposed nipples to rub against the material of my blouse, making my nipples even more sensitive.

I ran instantly to the bathroom and took a cold shower. I don't know why but I somehow knew not to touch myself.

I awoke Saturday morning to another email from you. I was disappointed you didn't say if you had seen me. You said nipples like mine should be adorned. You added a link to the email, of course I clicked on it. It was an adult site with a 'toy shop'. The link took me to the nipple clamp category. I selected a pair that sat around my nipples. They were showcased perfectly, like my nipples were asking everyone to look at them. They were comfortable and kept my nipples erect.

I now wear different types of nipple jewellery every weekend.

Have you noticed? I hope so, I wear them for you.

I didn't hear from you for nearly a week. I must admit I was a little heartbroken.

Did I do something wrong?

And then I saw your name in my inbox. Oh, but I know it's not your real name, but the very sight of it makes me excited.

You asked me if I'd ever worn a pearl thong.

No, never! Does such a thing exist? A click on the link you sent and yes, I could see that they do exist. A nice red pair in my size.

I was disappointed when they arrived and I put them on that morning ready for work. The pearls did feel lovely and cool against my pussy lips but that was it. And then I sat down to fasten the straps of my shoes. Oh! My pussy lips parted and the string of pearls slid in between. I bent down towards my shoe, and the pearls moved. The line of pearls was placed perfectly between the lips of my pussy and the crack of my bum. I had a pearl pressed against my clit and another directly over my back entrance. I had never felt anything pressing against this area, but I liked it.

All day I was prancing around at work, giggling like a schoolgirl. I was bending over, picking things up from the floor, running up and down the stairs. My colleagues must have thought I was high. Did you notice? Oh, I hope you noticed! It was the pearls. I'd worn them for you and they were rubbing all over me. Always on the brink of an orgasm.

I think you did notice, I had another email. You said I looked exquisite when I'm aroused. You asked if I liked touching myself, you confessed that you had pleasured yourself whilst thinking about me. I almost came there and then. The description you gave of your cock, long, thick and hard, had me ready to beg. But your emails are always those ones that say ´do not reply to this email´.

So here I am, reading your emails again, when an email comes through from you. My heart is racing. I open it. You are telling me to go out to my front door, there is a present on the doorstep. I take off running, throw the door open and sure enough, there is a box. It's about the size of a shoe box and wrapped in ordinary brown paper. But I know it's anything but ordinary. Picking it up I look around. You have been here, at my house, at my door!

Where are you? Who are you?

I walk back to my bedroom with the box. I sit down and open it. Inside there is a thick rubber dildo. It must be eight inches long. Holding it in my hand, feeling the weight of it, my juices flood my pussy.

I groan. "What do you want me to do?"

"Tell me!"