Do You Trust Me?

And she froze to the spot.

Collecting her thoughts, she stepped, despite wanting to stride, to the fridge, and poured a glass of cold water. She had thought of wine, but just wanted to slake her thirst. The ice cold water soothed her throat, and she rolled the glass across her forehead as she closed the fridge door. There she was a gain, reflected in the window glass.

Pitch black night made it a perfect mirror. She could not see out, could not see if anyone was looking in. her stomach lurched, not with sickening fear, but with a dance of delight and sexual excitement. Her lower body would be framed by the sink, she knew this, as she slowly washed her hands and then dried them, still standing in front of the sink. Finally, after wondering if some lucky voyeur had had a glimpse of her, the "Sexy" Amanda, she turned to the door, flicking the light off, and walking – slowly, but surely, to her bedroom. The house in darkness behind her, she closed the door,, slipped the bra and now-soaked knickers off, placing them on the chair, and climbed into bed. The coolness of the sheets upon her hot skin, the sliding of her stockinged legs against the cotton, she felt like she was almost going to come, there and then. Her final thoughts as she drifted off to sleep, were of Sam. Would he be pleased?

+

"Sam,

I did it. I accepted the tasks. And what a thrill. I was sort of scared in the kitchen, but you knew my lower half would be covered by the height of the window didn't you! You tease. I could not see out, the light in the kitchen is so bright, but I wonder of a dog-walker, or a lucky neighbour peeped and peeked at me. Made me all tingly.

I walked back to my room, and turned all the lights off. However, I took a liberty. My bedside lamp is a soft, low light, barely bright enough to read by, so I drew my curtains and left them open…………….the glow of moonlight and streetlights through my window. Feeling a little silly, and a lot naughty, I took off my bra, kicked off the shoes, and slipped my damp knickers down my legs. I can remember my heart pounding so loudly I thought it might burst. I slipped into bed, under my cotton sheets. My breathing became rapid and shallow; in my imagination you can see the rise and fall of my bosom, and would have held me in your arms to reassure me. What I was about to do was not new to me, but this – Sam – was for you, more than me. This was for you, though I would also reap some pleasure I lay back and began to explore my body. I know you like the thought of my breasts so I began there – my nipples already hard and sensitive. The delight and feel of my hand on the skin above my stockings, how often have I felt that before. But never feeling quite like this. Would but that it could be your hand. I trembled as I dared to softly touch myself. I froze. A slam. On the landing I hear steps; it is my flatmate coming up to bed. The rudeness of what I am doing seems intensified by her proximity, but the longing won't go away. Under the bedding I keep moving my legs to feel the stockings; my goodness - wearing stockings to bed! I roll over onto my side, my right leg bent at the knee a little like the recovery position in first aid. Now I allow my hand to slide down nearer to the source of the tingle, caressing my, slightly rounded, tummy. My hand encounters my pubic hair. That sounds so cold. My hand stroked my bush. I can remember wondering what it would be like to be clean shaven like Janet in your story and which you prefer. I felt so warm I threw off the duvet, uncaring possible consequences. I move onto my back, legs bent as the knees as if I were about to do sit-ups. At this point I made two decisions.

I was going to prolong the pleasure for as long as possible and I was going to try and tell you every thought and detail. This required tremendous self control. I knew that by giving my clit a vigorous rub, I could have brought things to an end. Instead I placed my hand so the heel of it is applying pressure to my clit, allowing my fingers to probe. My god I was so wet. I had three fingers stroking my lips, easing them apart. It felt great and in my thoughts guess who the fingers belonged to…I got even wetter as I imagined lying in your embrace as you fingered me and, unable to resist, I probed further and my middle finger … [I can't believe I'm about to type this, but a dare is a dare and I accepted your challenge.] My middle finger slipped easily inside me. At that moment I clearly remember thinking "I'm fingering my cunt!" and then being shocked at both the thought and my choice of word. I pulled my finger out and looked at it in amazement, shiny and wet. I put it back, enjoying the sensation as I slid it in and out, faster and faster, rubbing my clit with my left hand. It felt wonderful!!! In the silence of my bedroom my gasps and the slurping sounds, sounded scarily loud, but I didn't care. Finally it was all too much for me. I climaxed, waves of pleasure flowing through my body, my legs clamping together, trapping my left hand inside me, my back arched and I seemed almost to lift off of my bed. I laid there panting, trying to fix all the details into my memory. I was covered in a thin film of sweat, which glistened in the light from my window. I looked down at my body, and hoped you'd have found it pleasing, despite the sweat and the stickiness I had all over my bush. I lay there for a few minutes utterly exhausted, before getting up and picking up the duvet. I went over to my window and stood there looking out on a scene I had viewed countless times, but it seemed different somehow. I took off my suspenders and stockings, then climbed back into bed, naked and sweaty. As I drifted off to sleep my last thoughts were of you reading about me pleasuring my self. I have chosen to be as bold as I dared… I have chosen to include every minute detail I can remember… I have chosen to give my most intimate thoughts to you…I hope you enjoy the reality more than my stories.

Yours – in mind and soul – Amanda.xxxxx"

+

Monday morning, Sam read the email, in genuine admiration. He didn't realise he had been stroking himself, until the surge of a pool of come flew from his cock, leaving him twitching, breathless, and amazed.