I admit to being a bit mischievous. What's wrong with trying out new things just to see what happens? Let me give you an example.
When I first met you on the internet, you were kind of quiet, hanging in the shadows of a chat room I would frequent. The only time you would talk would be to respond to a question directed specifically to you. However, you were a bit more talkative behind the scenes, in instant messenger. There you opened up with all kinds of tidbits, not the least of which was your interest in my naughty stories. Just like a reporter on the 6 pm news, you began asking me questions, specifically about whether the stories were based on truth. Of course, I couldn't give you a direct answer to that. Why give up the mystery?
Mystery was the other topic of discussion, for I had never shared a picture of myself with you, or in fact, with anyone else on the internet. Try as you might, you were never able to find a person who had seen my face. Questions that leapt to your mind were:
Was I the Elephant Man's uglier brother?
Was I gay?
Did I have a girlfriend?
Was I married?
Was I trying to protect a high profile persona?
Was I a serial killer waiting for his next victim?
Would I be recognized from To Catch a Predator?
Catastrophizing the scenario was just too easy. With all the possibilities rumbling around in your mind, you stayed a bit wary of this stranger who seemed superficially charming. One of the things that struck you throughout our conversations was my lack of concern over finding out specific details about your life. You imagined that a stalker would want to know everything he could about his intended victim. Truthfully, it began to seem like I wasn't interested in you at all. Sure, I would talk to you, but I never shared personal information with you, and I seemed quite content not to get to know too much about you.
As time went on, you found yourself becoming enthralled with the mystery of the quasi-relationship. In spite of yourself, you began sharing some of yourself, especially in the sexual realm. When you talked about how you sometimes like to be controlled, you were surprised to hear me begin to ask questions. There was a topic that we shared a common interest in. We even began to discuss how we might make this happen.
It just so happened my job allowed for some travel, and I had a level of control over where I went on business, so I concocted a scenario. First, you were to get a post office box so I could mail you a present. No, you weren't told what the package would include, but there would be instructions contained in the box.
While we discussed this online, you found yourself exploring the erogenous zones on your body. It struck you funny, because while I always joked about typing one handed, you were actually doing it. The more you tried to entice me to give you a hint as to what would be in the box, the more excited you became when I skirted the subject. For a while you were able to quell the temptation to ease your fingers underneath the blue boy shorts that were becoming moist with your burgeoning fantasy. A short while, that is, after I hinted that we might meet once the box arrived.
That really hadn't been something you had thought about, but the prospect of the rendezvous made it impossible for you to resist rubbing your clit anymore. An almost electric shock ran through your body as you lost yourself in the moment. Your fingers made tiny circles around your most sensitive spot, and it wasn't long before you felt yourself building toward a climax. Building, building, and building even higher, you sank one, then two fingers into your wet slit, using the heel of your hand to continue to stimulate your clit. Almost there...
BUZZ
"What the fuck?"
BUZZ
Shaken from the brink, you noticed the blinking orange light signifying that you had an instant message. Opening the message, you noticed I continued our conversation while you were in oblivious near ecstasy.
"Sorry, I'm back."
"Did I interrupt anything?"
"NO," was your instantaneous and much too emphatic response.
"LOL Ok, if you say so. I gotta go. I have to go in to work early, and I need all the beauty sleep I can get."
"Ok Sean. Sweet dreamssssssss."
From what I said, you knew you didn't fool me, but did it really matter? More importantly, did I somehow know when to buzz you, just in time to halt your orgasm? Would I really be that mean? The answer, you knew, was probably yes.
As with all anticipatory events like birthdays, Christmas, and high school graduation, the days until your package arrived were interminably long. You checked the P.O. box every day, waiting. Would today be the day to truly begin this mystery? Day after day of disappointment, and yet heightened anticipation and excitement. Finally, when you had almost given up, it arrived. There was not only a package, but a list of instructions.
"Hiya cutie, as you probably have already noticed, I have sent you a pair of panties. These aren't just ANY panties. I am sure you have figured out there is nothing simple about me. This particular pair of panties have a little addition designed to ... stimulate ... your ... pussy. The vibrations can be controlled, of course. and this is where it becomes interesting. You won't have control over the vibrator, but I bet you can guess who will.
The remote control has quite a range, so I will be able to keep myself hidden in plain sight, for you are going to wear them to the mall located close to your house. Yes, you know which one. The HUGE mall. This will allow me to keep my anonymity while watching you squirm. When you go to the mall, I will text you to confirm I am there as well.
There are a couple of caveats to this game. The first one is that you are to keep the vibrator in your panties at all times until I tell you our game is over. If you take the vibrator out at any time, the game is over, and I will know you're not up to it.
The other caveat is you are not allowed to have an orgasm until I tell you it's ok. If you cum before you get the ok, the game will be over.
Text me to tell me you got your gift and if you are up for the game.
Oh, and by the way, wear something sexy."
Grabbing your phone, you texted me with your agreement to the terms of the game, and we arranged to meet at the food court in the mall at noon the next day. Once again, the seconds ticked slowly.
While getting ready, you look over the device that is about to make your life interesting, trying to find a way of turning it on so you will have some idea of what to expect. Unfortunately, the only moving part (so far) on the little rectangular plastic piece is the opening to put the batteries in. Inspecting the panties, you see a small pocket where you assume the toy goes. The French cut on the panties seem to ensure the panties will remain securely snug in the right places. When you get the panties on, you experiment a bit to find the most comfortable place for it.
"What to wear. What to wear."
Intelligently, you decided to wear a skirt to conceal the small bulge in the bottom of the coochie covers. Wearing tight pants might give someone the impression you were a not very well hung transvestite. On top, you decided to put on a bit of a show for me, choosing a tight t shirt type top which would reveal any excitement (or cold weather) you might be experiencing at any time. Forgoing the bra ensured there was no question.
Walking into the mall, you looked like you were walking on egg shells, waiting for the device in your panties to go off at any moment. Getting more brave when Armageddon didn't come, you surveyed the food court, hoping to catch a glimpse of your tormenter. The mall was crowded enough that pinpointing one person was impossible, especially since you didn't know what I looked like. For all you knew, I was one of the pimply faced Star Trek nerds who refuses to move out of his parent's basement and worked at one of the fast food restaurants. Then the question leapt to mind...
"What if he is a woman?"
