Saturday, 17 September 2011

Chapter 2: The Letter

I live at no 10 Red Lion Street. Stephanie and Rob live at number 42.

Read all of Stephanie's stories here

They are newly married. They have a small baby.
Rob drinks with me at the pub in Red Lion Street. The pub in Red Lion Street is called 'The Red Lion'.

The other week Rob said, "The sex between me and Stephanie has stopped since the kid came along. I don't know what happened. We used to fuck all the time. We couldn't stop ourselves. I used to come home from work and before I could say hello she would be on her back on the kitchen floor saying 'fill me'. She had the sluttiest mouth too. She used to love being called a whore. I asked her if she was sure and she said, 'I love being called a whore. Treat me like one.'"

Rob looked broken. He stared into his pint, "We haven't had sex in nearly three months," he said. "The thing is she still goes out dressed super sexy. She's been wearing these knee length white socks lately that drive me insane. I don't know what to do."

It's true. Stephanie does walk up and down Red Lion Street in her knee length socks and sexy black patent shoes. She pushes her pram and swings her ass.

She look's like a proper dirty, young mum.

A week or so after I spoke to Rob a note was pushed through my letter box.

It read, "I've seen you looking at me in the street. I've seen you stare at my legs with a bulge in your trousers and I know what you want to do to me. Sometimes I want to be so bad and I feel I can't help myself.

I walked past a building site the other day. Two guys shouted and whistled at me from high up on the scaffold. I climbed up the ladder to them. It was hard climbing the ladder in my heels. My short skirt rode up my thighs. I reached the third level of scaffold. The two builders were fat, old and grey. They said, 'what are you doing?' I said, 'Stop shouting at women in the street and prove yourself. I want to do something very, very wrong with you both, right now.'

I held on to the scaffold and spread my legs for them. They both fucked me from behind. As they screwed me I scooped my tits out so anyone on the street would look up and see a slut being fucked. The builders had short stubby cocks and they didn't fuck long before coming. They left a lot of spunk inside me though. So much that I felt the warm jizz running down my thigh as I descended the ladder. I felt glorious. It was so wrong.

Next time I see you I will be wearing sheer nylon panties that you can see through to my cunt.

I love being called a whore. Treat me like one."

The letter wasn't signed but the last line told me it was Stephanie.

A married mother on my own street was writing pure filth to me.

I went over to Stephanie's house and knocked on the door. I said, "We need to talk."

She let me inside. She was wearing a short black skirt. She was wearing her knee-length white socks and heels.

I showed her the letter and said I knew it was her.

She said, "How dare you? Do you think I would write filth like this? I've got much better things to do with my time."

"But I..."

"And do you honestly think I would just walk onto a building site and let two random builders fuck me? Without a condom? When I'm faithfully married with a child? Do you think I would let that happen?"

"It's because of that line about being treated like a whore," I said. "I know it's something you said to Rob."

"What? Rob told you I wanted to be treated like a whore? Get out! Get out now!"

I felt foolish and confused. I couldn't understand what had just happened. I was certain that Stephanie had written the letter. I turned to leave.

Just as I got to the door Stephanie called out, "Hey."

I turned around and there was Stephanie sitting with her skirt hitched up and her legs wide apart.
She was wearing sheer nylon panties, just like she said she would in the letter. I could see her sweet, shaven, plump cunt. She was stroking her thighs.

She just sat there staring and I stared back.

"Now," she said. "Fuck off and leave."

I left. I went home and spent the afternoon wanking myself off to the thought of Stephanie's perfect pussy.

I know it wouldn't belong before she wrote again.

I love living on this street.

No comments:

Post a Comment