Sending My Girl a Sexy Selfie
I get back from the shops and put my bag of ‘swag’ on the stairs, make myself a hot drink and check my phone for emails and texts while the tea bag steeps in the mug.
“Home safe” I text and act nonchalant, but mentally I’m drumming my fingers on the counter until I get a reply.
The reply is frustratingly brief.
“Maybe,” if only I could get the upper hand, but I’m a puppet on a string, every move I make is at her whim. I wait for a reply, maybe she’s busy at work, but I suspect she’s toying with me. I fold.
I take a photo of the deluxe carrier bag, capturing its logo and name ‘Tiger Lilly’ then press send. I’ll have butterflies in my stomach until she replies.
“Model for me!” she texts.
A swoop of excitement hits my belly, like driving over a hump back bridge in the car when you aren’t expecting it.
“OK,” and with unseemly haste I fly upstairs to our bedroom. I flick a switch for music, the kind we like when we’re getting ready to go clubbing. I drag off my boots and undo my skinny jeans, pulling them off my hips and down.
My phone alerts me, she’s sent a ‘gif’– someone waiting and getting sleepy, so I scurry to divest myself of clothes. I reverently ease my magnificent purchases out of the bag and the tissue paper.
First I step into the shorts-style briefs and pull them up over my hips. They look just as sexy as they did in the changing room, hugging the curves of my rear, their fire engine red metallic material is hot AF! A golden zip starts at the front, against my mons, and travels right round to my rear. I savour the concept of being at her mercy, to be unzipped and fondled at any given moment, and my heart beats faster at the crazy, filthy scenes which run through my head.
As a tease, I send my first image; a tight close-up on the fabric and just a hint of exposed underbum. I laugh, feeling a little giddy, while snipping the tags off the cropped bra top before easing it on. It’s made of the same red, metallic fabric. Another gold zip is at the front, cold against my cleavage, raising goosebumps.
“You devil!” she responds, with a matching emoji, which makes me chuckle.
I feel rather devilish wearing such a clinging, revealing outfit, but she makes me want to wrap myself up like a delicious chocolate truffle for her enjoyment! I’m reminded of Kylie in her ‘Spinning Around’ music video. I twist to take a tempting picture of my metallic-clad bubble butt, using the selfie stick to get a better angle.
The bra top has a secret weapon, a really cute cowl hood attached to the halter-neck. Time to flip it over my pixie-cut and take another selfie. I’m looking over my shoulder seductively. It’s getting me quite worked up, taking these pictures, knowing she will see them when she’s at work, in her little cubicle surrounded by other worker bees.
“Little red riding hood” she texts me before long, “the wolf is hungry.”
I can’t wipe a big grin off my face. I feel so desirable and naughty. There’s something about just wearing underwear in the middle of the day that is so out of the ordinary –I feel like a rebel.
Another text. “Tug on your nipples, make them hard. I want them visible in that outfit!”
My slit moistens at her command, I melt when she gives me orders. I lower myself onto the bed to roll my nipples between my fingertips, the ache has me pressing my thighs together. But when I hold up the phone to take the picture, I see they haven’t stayed hard. If only she was here to bite and suck with her insistent mouth.
I rummage in our toy box for the nipple sucker, depressing the bulb. I apply it to my left nipple while increasing the manual pulling and pinching on my right. It’s happening, I groan with pleasure/pain, but once the warm room quickly thwarts my efforts, my nipples won’t stay hard. Back to the toy box, I remove a tiny pot of nipple bands. I roll the 2 smallest onto the suction part of the nipple sucker, which I apply again to my nipple, watching with fascination as the point of my flesh elongates into the perspex ‘mouth’ under pressure. It tingles delightfully and when I roll down the band, I trap the tip in its engorged state. I repeat the process on my other boob and Voila! Now two hard nipple points strain behind the red spangled fabric of the crop top that covers my breasts.
Snap! The picture is taken and sent. My heart thuds in my ribcage, hoping she’s pleased with what she sees, although she won’t be amused that it took so long. I lie back, striking different poses, to take selfies capturing different angles. Knowing that I’m doing it for her pleasure, to titillate her, makes me thirsty. Already a damp patch is spreading in my gusset, and the urge to rub one out is driving me crazy.
The little devil in me wonders if I’m making her aroused.
I preen at her praise.
“Pull the briefs tighter, show me the outline of your pussy.”
An illicit shock runs through me, but I won’t disobey. I pull on the waistband of the shorts until they press tightly against my hot wet pussy, also pulling up into the crack of my ass. I take another selfie, review it then press send, confident I captured the ‘camel toe’.
“I need a bathroom break,” she texts.
I know she is sneaking away with her phone to get off in the toilet cubicle. I’m delighted, that’s a compliment. On the bed I spread my legs, keeping my hands near my pussy, waiting for my next instructions. My dirty mind has already created several scenarios for my pleasure and I feel a pool of juices gathering in my folds.
When my phone rings, it startles me. I press it to my ear.
“Finger yourself, demonstrate how wet you are.”
I bite my lip with suppressed emotion.
“Firstly slut, unzip those hot pants. Show me how swollen your wanton display has got you!”
Although my cheeks burn with shame, I angle the phone camera at my crotch. I use my other hand to drag the zip slowly, feeling the cool air brush against the swollen folds of my pouting pussy. Doing things because I am instructed, showing myself to her for inspection, is a familiar pattern, which never fails to increase my desire.
I hear her intake of breath at the sight of me, spread out, vulnerable and wet for her.
“Do it!” she commands, so I set to work.
I no longer try to hold the phone so she can see me, instead I lay it on my stomach so it’s close to my pussy because Lucy will want to hear. I circle my index finger around my clit several times, ‘til it’s humming with alert nerve endings. The sensations are exquisite, I’m awash with throbs of hot and cold. Dipping into my honeypot, I drag moisture from my depths to spread it around my labia. I’m making the whole area smooth and slippery, so my strokes and presses have a fluidity to them, which I enjoy. I’m not ashamed of the squelching noises my fingers make as I dip in and out, using my own lubrication, it’s what Lucy wants to hear, alongside my moans and sighs of satisfaction.
I can picture her standing in the cubicle of the washroom, with her skirt hitched around her waist, stockings and garter belt framing her trimmed pussy, while her silky panties are pulled taut between her spread thighs. I imagine Lucy using her index and middle fingers, the same way as I am, rubbing and circling and stroking her labia, trying not to hone in on her clitoris too soon. She has to be silent, neither of us want this overheard, but I’m making distinctive squelching sounds, pumping two fingers in and out of my wet pussy as my arousal builds.
The tension in my body increases, my legs strain and my abdomen braces, and I suspect Lucy’s body is doing the same. I make my fingers into a V-shape to rub them either side of my engorged clitty hood, which feels so damn good that I’m gasping for air. My heartbeat thumps a tattoo in my chest. I’ll bet Lucy is tapping hard and fast on her clit, it’s how she gets off when she’s on the final straight.
My climax builds, everything in my body is as tight as a bowstring, straining towards that moment when the tension breaks. Like a thunderclap, I’m suddenly awash with great sensations, soaring and throbbing with pulses powerful enough to make my torso twitch. Starbursts of colour expand behind my eyelids and my elation expands to lift me on a cloud. I feel fulfilled and satisfied.
As I come back to earth I stop my hands, but keep my fingers deep inside me, enjoying the fading twitches that throb within my pussy. Once I’m able to think beyond my pleasure, I wonder if Lucy has climaxed too. I snatch my phone off my stomach and hold it to my ear, able to hear faint sounds of her laboured breathing on the line.
“Thank you Lucy,” I say quietly.
I wish she was here to hold me and cuddle as we come down. She sends me two emojis: thumbs up and clapping hands.
“See you tonight.” I text back.
My girl’s reply is the emoji of a lipstick kiss.