Pigtails and Packages

This is part six in my "pigtail tales" series but can be read alone. If you enjoy it, you'll be glad to hear there's more. Thanks for reading!

Have you ever tried doing housework in a sexy uniform? I had been instructed to wear my school uniform all day today, so as I'm pushing the vacuum round the living room, my breasts are pressed together and dripping over the edge of my plain white blouse. The grey pleated skirt swirls just above my knee, and I am very much aware of the constriction of the cotton knickers around my crotch.

With every movement my mind is dragged into the realm of the sexual. I am awaiting a parcel and although I am not sure what it will contain, I do know it's been ordered with my sexual pleasure in mind, not just the contents of the parcel, but who will bear it as well. I also know that my husband is waiting for me to call. I have him on speed dial and as I hear the knock on the door, I will ring him and he will then find his way home to join in the fun.

Could you take this much anticipation? I am finding it hard, my knickers are soaked with my juices and I can smell my arousal clearly. I switch off the Hoover and put it away then I hear the long awaited knock on the door. I run to the desk, hit the speed dial and let the phone ring once, then slam it down and run to the door.

"I'm coming!" I shout, hoping that soon I will be, and open the front door. It's the parcel guy and without hesitation, I beckon him in.

"Hello gorgeous, want some more of me do you?" his voice is lust-laden as he pushes the door closed.

I do not reply to his question in words but press my body against him, claiming his lips with mine, pushing him against the wall. A low moan confirms his approval, one had roams over my back, the other occupied by a small parcel. As I press harder against him, his fingers relax and the parcel falls, to the ground. I don't care, all I want is satisfaction. I've been aching for cock all day and I will not be happy till I am satiated.

His fingers run into my hair, each pigtail is wrapped around a strong, rough hand and my hair is pulled tight from my skull and I wince as he levers me backwards, overbalancing me and whipping me round until I find my back against the wall. His weight is crushing me; his lips bruising, strangling the breath from between my lips. His chest is hard against my soft breasts, my nipples pressing uncomfortably against my blouse.

His large hand and long fingers insinuate themselves up and under the box pleat skirt, his strong grasp shakily makes It's way up to my crotch. As he touches me through the sodden cotton of my panties his lips slip down to my neck, he sucks hard and grinds his palm into my pubis, a long finger hooking in and pressing warm cotton between my lips, complimenting the heavenly pleasure on my clit. I make a noise somewhere between a yelp and a mewl, as the combination of sharp teeth and blunt fingers drive me wild.

"Hmm, I thought it was only myself who could make my wife make that noise. Apparently not."

My husband has managed to open the door and walk in without either of us sex-raved beasts hearing. My heart thumps harder, my knickers get wetter as I hear him, then open my eyes and see him. The man pressing me so hard into the wall retreats, a wild, crazed look of guilt on his face.

"I'm sorry guv, I didn't know she was married...I..."

"No need to apologise." My husband's smile is like a tiger greeting it's prey, "My darling wife is a slut, as you have experienced, and I am not ashamed to say she seems to take more than one man to satisfy her."

The parcel man's face is a picture of mixed emotion. He's still not sure this guy isn't

a) insane or b) just very, very mad.

Or if he really means what he's saying.

"Oh I know all about your escapade yesterday." My husband continues, slipping off his heavy black jacket, "Yes, she's a naughty slut and you did just right in spanking her. She needs a firm hand and a firm cock often you know. Would you like to see how she copes with two of each?"

I can see the light of play in my husband's eye and finally parcel man seems to see it too.

"Hell yeah!" he replies, clasping and unclasping his hands by his sides.

"Wife." My husband barks. "Where are your manners? Have you offered this fine man some refreshment?"

I look to the floor and shake my head. Kev whistles through his teeth and tuts.

"A punishable offence if ever there was one. To the desk ,slut, You know the position."

I take a deep breath and push up off the wall. Unsteadily I walk past the excess of testosterone in the room and head for the desk in the corner. I rest my hands on the comfortingly cool wood and bend over. My short skirt hitches up, showing off great expanses of my thighs.

"After you." I hear my husband, a smile in his voice, and soon I feel my skirt lifted and folded up over my back, then the panties ripped down to rest, strained, across the bottom of my thighs."

The sheer weight in the first slap to my buttocks shows me it's not Kev. The way the blows reign down on my rapidly warming bum and the feel of the rough, thick fingers all tell me what I need to know. Then, as I lean my side of my face on my hands I see Kev, his trousers pooled round his ankles and his cock in hand. He slowly wanks, his cheeks flushed, his eyes glowing with prideful lust. I almost orgasm right then, seeing the look in his eye and the hardness of his straining dick. He slowly caresses his cock, pleasuring himself in rhythm with the spanks landing on my hot, painful buttocks.

I wriggle and groan, yelping when the slap is particularly harsh, keeping my eyes fastened on my husband and his throbbing cock as it slips in and out of his cupped fingers.

"Now, how about that drink?" Kev's eyes sparkle and I feel myself spun round, then encouraged- no- shoved onto the edge of the desk. The cool wood hurts, then eases my red, throbbing arse, and I know when I stand there will be a smear of my juices left behind.

Parcel guy is soon sat in the desk chair and positioned between my legs. He pulls off and tosses away my knickers like the wrapping on a tasty sweet. His hands push apart my thighs, and balance my feet on the swivel-chair arms.

His tongue is as tough as his hand on my arse. Purposefully it burrows between my wet folds and seeks out the entrance of my leaking hole. Jamming it inside he stretches to reach all the juices he can and suck them down his throat. He seeks out more moisture, his lips sucking my intimate ones, trailing all around my wet cunt, his tongue flipping past my clit, not to give me pleasure but to collect the warm moistness there. I revel in the feeling of being used, even through this act that is usually all about giving, I enjoy being an object to be enjoyed, to be used to slake his thirst.

A hand presses down on my chest and I lie back, the keyboard from the computer clattering to the floor, the sound of fluttering pages easing into my subconscious. I turn my head to the side and there is a cock, a familiar, hard, dribbling cock and I do what any good slut would and stretch out my neck to lick and then suck on it's tip. Kev walks in closer to the table and feeds me more of his shaft, his balls resting on the edge of the wood.

I surrender myself to the intense feelings coursing through my body, a breast is painfully yanked from it's confines, made to lie above the edge of the unbuttoned "V" of my shirt, that material digging into it's underside. My husbands fingers clasp and pull at the exposed nipple, twisting and turning as if to tune into just the right channel for his and my fucking pleasure.

A hard ,eager cock thrusts into my pussy, I had not even registered the lack of licking, so intent was I on lavishing pleasure on my husbands member. Only the rough entry of a hard, thick cock brings my focus back to my aching pussy. And oh fuck, does it feel good. Plugged from two ends, providing pleasure to two men at once.

I suck and mewl and bang my head back and forth in a sheer frenzy. I need to give pleasure. My cunt spasms around the cock inside it and I hear a manly groan. As the thrusts increase in pace, the fingers holding onto my thigh for balance dig in deeper and I know I will have bruises there come the morning. I can feel my orgasm building, the pounding of his groin against mine teasing my body to tremble, my cunt creaming at the force and the friction.

It is as if they timed it in perfect synchronization, with manly grunts and hisses cum is forced between both of my sets of lips and both eagerly suck down the sweet, salty nectar. My own orgasm follows shortly, my body congratulating itself on a job well done and sending shock after shock of pleasure whizzing round my body.

He pulls out, pulls on his pants and leaves.

"Parcels to deliver." he mutters as he leaves, "it's been a pleasure."

The men share knowing, slightly embarrassed glances and then the door shuts and it's just me and him, alone.

I sit up, and my husband walks back to me, his cock hidden once more from sight, nestled inside his cotton boxers. In his hand is the little parcel. He passes it to me and I open it.

Inside is something fairly small, rubber and very arousing. I look up and he smiles.

I know he has a plan and I shiver with delight as I get a hint of what it may be.