Sexting | Lingerie | Self-Pleasure

How I Made my Boyfriend Get Off on my Shopping Trip #1

I love to shop : I love to flirt : I love sexy underwear

On this particular weekday afternoon I had no lectures so I was browsing around shops looking at things I didn’t need, toying with the idea of spending money I didn’t have. It was a big shopping mall with a glass roof and plenty of high street stores and I was in a good mood.

Scratch that! I was feeling playful and a little bit horny.

I browsed the rails of clothes in bright jewel colours, the season was moving from summer to autumn. Selecting silky dresses and filmy, see-through blouses, I wished I could buy everything. I’m fairly slender and not very tall, but what men seem to notice first are my generous breasts.

I wandered through a big department store, and my mobile phone began to vibrate and play its ringtone. I dug into my handbag and glanced at the screen. It was Mike, a new fuck-buddy of mine. I smiled as I took the call, he really was a fabulous flirt, totally on my wavelength.

“Hello ….” I made my voice sound cautious and a little timid.

“Hi — it’s Mike.”

“Mike who?”

“Mike, from the Golden Lion,” he seemed a little put out.

“I’m sorry, what? Do you mean a pub? I don’t drink.” I must not laugh.

“Oh — so it wasn’t you who needed propping up last Friday night after too many Jagerbombs?” Mike chuckled, now realising I’d been messing with him.

“Jaeger-what?” I tried to sound shocked, “do you mean that cough mixture stuff? I only took that for medicinal purposes, I had something on my chest.”

“You had something on your chest alright Freya — the most delicious pair of jubblies I’ve had the good fortune to nibble on!”

I laughed hard. Mike had indeed spent a lot of time licking, sucking and fondling my breasts. He made me moan and beg for him to get his dick wet. He teased me to breaking point that night. But back to our phone call.

“Oh that Mike. How are you Babe? What’re you up to?”

“Nothing much — just working and sleeping. Same old, same old, thinking about you though. What have you been doing?”

“Lectures and assignments mostly. A few of us went to that nightclub by the river, the one with handcuffs as its logo.”

“Mmm Hmm — did you dance with anybody?”

“Maybe.”

“Did you go home with anybody?”

“No,” I chuckled, sensing some jealousy.

“What did you wear?”

“Wear?”

He spoke in a low, intimate voice. “You always dress in a sexy way. Tell me what you wore — I want to imagine it.”

I had planned to buy myself a coffee, but I didn’t want to stand in a queue describing my outfit with people listening around me, so I kept walking.

“Oh — I had on a navy sheer blouse with a slashed neck and full sleeves which have a slash in them too. The back of the blouse is also slashed, and I wore a plum satin push up bra underneath.”

“That sounds delicious,” Mike breathed. “Could you see the bra through the blouse?”

“A little bit. Being a plunge bra, it fastens at the front, and enhances my cleavage.”

Suddenly I wondered how he could ask me these questions from work.

“Are you alone?”

“I’m in an empty meeting room,” he replied. “Quit stalling, what else did you wear?”

“A skirt.”

“What kind of skirt? Short or long?”

“A leather skirt, above my knees,”

“Shoes or boots?”

“Shoes, very high heels, lots of straps, very sexy.”

I loved those shoes. I adore the way a high heel tips a girl’s body, making her poke out her bum and her boobs. Plus I feel ‘powerful’ with those extra 4 inches of height.

“What colour?”

“The shoes are navy, with gilt on the heels. The stockings I wore were navy too.” I added, feeling naughty.

“Stockings?” I’d swear I heard Mike lick his lips. “Did you wear hold ups?”

“Oh Mike-y Mike-y,” my voice dripped with disappointment. “What kind of girl do you take me for? Of course not hold-ups, I wore suspenders. A plum coloured suspender-belt to match my bra.”

I’m not sure Mike had expected me to describe my underwear, but I was on a roll. Something about the illicitness of talking about private things in a public place was getting me heated up! I felt the familiar twist and turn of the she-devil deep in my belly, as a damp patch formed in my panties.

I saw a bench ahead, with nothing nearby but a pot plant, so I sat and squeezed my thighs together, savouring the delicious thrill of my pussy getting moist and swollen. Today I was wearing lacy boy shorts under my dress, and the fabric chafed delightfully between my labia while the back seam nestled between the cheeks of my butt.

“Mike …” I teased, “is this getting you hard?”

“Fuck yes Freya –You’re such a hottie! Are you at home?”

“Nah — I’m shopping.”

Mike couldn’t believe his ears. He thought I was talking frankly because I was somewhere private. His splutter of shock made me giggle.

“Well I have things to buy Mike, so I’d better get on.”

“Wait Freya, don’t go. What kind of things are you buying?”

“Underwear things.”

“Shit Freya, I wish I was shopping with you,” his voice became husky with desire.

Then a wicked thought crept into my mind.

“I could take you with me I suppose, send you pics of what I’m looking at. You can say what you like best. I could even send you a selfie from the changing room …”

I trailed off, equally shocked and excited by the idea. Mike was all for the plan, so I sashayed back to the main shopping area, in search of provocative underwear. My nipples had puckered at the thought of showing off various bras and panties as I tried them on. I’d need to do it without making it obvious to the sales staff what I was up to, but covert activity seemed thrilling.

Finding a brand I recognized, I strode into the shop and began to scan the items on display, which were helpfully grouped by colour and then size. Surveys have shown that men are drawn to tacky red and black items, which their wives and girlfriends usually return for something more wearable. As these pictures were for Mike’s “spank-bank” the undies would be ideal for my X-rated fashion parade.

I selected a bra with a halter neck in red satin fabric. The trimming was black eyelash lace and the matching panties were high cut at the front, and thong at the back. I conferred with Mike over the phone, he thought fishnet hold ups would look best with this outfit. I snagged a black satin sleep mask from a display with negligees and sauntered to the back of the store. The changing rooms were behind heavy curtains.

My heart sped up as I hung my bag and stepped out of my shoes, then it was a simple matter of undoing my button through dress and slipping off my existing underwear to replace it with the items I’d selected. The halter-neck bra hitched up my breasts. They domed over the top, reminding me of a serving wench, but they looked tempting.

I slipped out of my own damp underwear, and let my finger trail through the tiny landing strip on my pussy — it came away shiny with my juices, which I licked. As I shimmied my hips into the thong, which had a hygiene protection strip, the mirror reflected my breasts quivering invitingly. I carefully unwrapped the stockings and pointed my toes to smooth one up each leg, until the silicone inside gripped the widest part of my thigh.

I surveyed the finished results. Slutty but undeniably hot.

My wavy hair hung round my shoulders in a tousled look. I slid on the sleep mask to hide my identity before holding my phone up to take a burst of selfies in the mirror. Pushing the mask up on my head, I selected the best picture, which I sent to Mike. Moments later my phone vibrated, which was nice as I was holding it near my mound.

Mike’s text: “Fuck! You look awesome!” showed up on the screen.

“Bend forward and let your tits spill over. Show me the knickers from behind.”

This excited me too, getting instructions from a man. When I leaned over the bra could barely contain my DD boobs. I slid on the mask again and pressed the button on my phone. Next I turned around for the rear view. The lace & elastic which travelled between my arse cheeks was black, a dramatic colour against my pale skin. I put one hand on my hip provocatively to snap a picture over my shoulder, without turning my head.

When I sent this to Mike, he replied immediately. “You are making me drool!”

“Which bit of you?”

I used the smirky emoticon, imagining precum gathering at the tip of his hard penis.

“Both ends,” he sent a laughing emoticon.

Thinking two can play at this game I texted. “I want you to stroke yourself.”

There was a delay, then he texted back. “I’ve put a chair under the door handle. Am stroking myself now. You’re a vixen and I love it.”

“What do you want to do to me wearing this?”

My fingers flew, though my hands were shaky. I could feel more moisture gathering at my entrance.

“You look deliciously trashy, like you are up for anything. I’d make you kneel and suck my cock. Then come on your face and tits.”

Mike’s text was like electric current to my pussy. I was shocked and aroused at his rough words and dominant answer that the thrill pulsed through me.

“I’d like that,” I replied, licking my lips, “then what?”

“I’d bend you over my motorbike and fuck you doggy style!”

My knees went weak, as I read his text, but my nipples hardened. The slickness between my lips had spread to my thighs. I wasn’t sure I could put the thong back on the hanger, without blotting it dry. Instead I slipped into the silky robe hanging in the changing room and padded out to the shop intending to choose another ‘ensemble’ for Mike’s delectation.

[To be continued …]

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