Follow Riley

Riley flopped onto her bed the second she got home, kicking off her school shoes and letting her uniform skirt ride up as she sprawled across the comforter. Her phone was already buzzing again—Alex, relentless, like he’d been waiting for her to get settled.

Alex: Home safe, gorgeous? Or did that skirt distract you on the way up the stairs?

Riley grinned, thumbs flying.

Riley: Safe. Skirt’s still on. Barely. What’s your next move, smooth talker?

Alex: Good girl. Dinner with the family tonight?

Riley: Yeah. Mom’s probably making something boring. Why?

Alex: Perfect. Send me an upskirt pic from the table. Just a tease—lift the skirt a little under the table, let me see those thighs. No panties if you’re feeling brave.

Riley laughed out loud, the sound echoing in her empty room. She rolled onto her stomach, chin propped on her hand.

Riley: You’re bold. But predictable. You think a little flash is gonna shock me?

Alex: Not shock. Just make me hard thinking about what’s under that innocent little uniform. Do it. Or are you all talk?

She bit her lip, heat pooling low in her belly. The challenge lit something reckless in her—the same spark her mom’s stories had ignited that morning. She waited until dinner was called, then headed downstairs in the same uniform (she hadn’t bothered changing), skirt swishing against her thighs.

At the table—Julia at one end, Nick across from her looking anywhere but at Riley, Angela still on campus—Riley slid into her seat. Julia passed the salad bowl with a neutral smile. Riley kept her face innocent, but under the table her free hand slowly inched the hem of her skirt higher, thighs parting just enough. She angled her phone between her legs, snapped a quick shot—white cotton panties visible, the fabric clinging slightly from the day’s heat—and sent it before she could second-guess.

Riley: [photo attached] Happy now?

Alex: Fuck. That’s what I like. Wet already?

Riley: Maybe. Your turn to surprise me.

He didn’t disappoint. Over the next two hours—through dinner, clearing plates, retreating to her room—the texts escalated.

Alex: Slip into the bathroom. Take the panties off. Send them to me.

She did—locked the door, shimmied them down her legs, snapped a pic of the damp cotton in her palm, sent it.

Alex: Good. Now go back to the table commando. Cross and uncross your legs. Think about me watching.

Riley obeyed, heart racing as she rejoined the family for dessert, bare under the skirt, every shift of her thighs sending a thrill through her. Julia glanced at her once—curious—but said nothing.

Alex: Finger yourself under the table. One finger. Slow. Don’t come.

She laughed softly into her phone, typing back while pretending to scroll.

Riley: You’re trying so hard. Nothing you can do will surprise me, Alex. I’ve done worse.

Alex: Prove it. Next time we meet, I want you bent over somewhere public. Skirt up, no panties, taking every inch while people walk by.

Riley: Big talk.

Alex: Not talk. Promise. Send me a video tonight—spread on your bed, uniform still on, fingers inside you. Moan my name.

Riley’s breath hitched. She waited until Julia and Nick were downstairs watching TV, then locked her door, hiked her skirt to her waist, and propped her phone against a pillow. She recorded a short clip—legs wide, two fingers plunging in and out, head thrown back, whispering “Alex… fuck…” before cutting it off and sending.

Alex: Jesus. That’s my girl. You’re gonna look so good taking my cock tomorrow.

Riley: Tomorrow? Bold.

Alex: Very. I’ll make it happen.

Riley stared at the screen, thighs still trembling from her own touch, pussy aching for more than her fingers. She laughed again—low, breathless, thrilled—at how easily he pushed, how easily she pushed back.

Riley: You think you can surprise me? Bring it. I dare you.

She hit send, heart pounding, already imagining what “tomorrow” might bring.