This story is Part four of the pigtail Tales." and is a follow up to "pigtails, Pigtails and Porn and Pigtails and Punishment. However, it works well as a stand alone story, but if you want to read more works along the same theme I recommend the others in this series. Thanks for reading!
"Who's knocking now!" A loud rapping at the door has me running down the stairs, pigtails and unbuttoned white shirt flapping. Another loud knock and I shout,
"Hang on, I'm coming!" Striding across the living room I button up my shirt the best I can, pressing my breasts down and doing up an extra button, but I am still aware of a large amount of tit-flesh flowing over the top. My school girl's outfit is not something I would choose to open the door in, but needs must I suppose. If this is my husband home early, teasing me, I'll throttle him!
I twist the door latch and poke my head around the door,
"Hello?"
I see a young man dressed in rough looking, navy-blue trousers and a short-sleeved white top holding a small parcel in his big, strong hands.
"Hello madam, Are you Mrs Victoria Rodgers?" His voice is soft and melodic, the accent deep and refined, the tone sonorous.
"Yes, yes, that's right." I reply, my cheeks flushing as I am very aware of my current state of attire and also aware I'm going to have to open the door to accept the parcel.
"Delivery for you, Victoria." I think it's weird for him to use my first name, but I smile back and rather reluctantly, pull back the door.
His dark, heavy eyes travel the length of my body, starting at my pigtails, lowering to my tight, cleavage-making white shirt , over the short, grey pleated skirt to the knee high socks beneath.
"Fancy dress." I mutter and giggle nervously.
"Well you'll win first prize with that outfit I'm sure!" he replies; a cheeky, almost lewd bend to his smile, "You've made my day, I can tell you that!"
I grin back, coyly looking down to the floor and admiring his long, strong legs and the definite bump growing in the crotch area of his trousers.
"Here." he passes over the parcel, I send up a prayer of thanks that the buttons on my top hold as I lean over. "All I need now is a signature." He pats his chest pocket, and then his trouser pockets and a perplexed look rests on his eyebrows. "I had a pen here somewhere,"
"I've probably got a pen in here." I smile, my heart thudding, "Come in a moment and I'll find one."
He grins at me, eyes twinkling as I hold the door open for him. He follows me in, pushing the door to, but not shutting it fully behind him. I stride across the living room to the desk in the corner and root around in the drawers for a pen, I forget what I am wearing and bend at the waist, it is not until I hear the not -so- muted groan from the delivery guy that I realise he is getting an eyeful of my wet slit at this very moment.