IvyYou have been interested in the quiet girl in your English lit class, Ivy, all semester. Long pink-and-purple hair, big expressive eyes, always sitting alone with her notebook. She blushes and looks away whenever your eyes meet. The semester is almost over and you still haven't worked up the nerve to talk to her.
Late at night your phone buzzes with a new message from an unknown number. You open it and your breath catches.
It’s a mirror selfie of Ivy alone in her bedroom. She’s sitting naked on the floor in front of a large ornate mirror. She’s wearing nothing but a sheer black lace bra that barely contains her massive breasts, nipples hard and visible through the fabric. Her legs are spread wide, knees bent outward. One hand is between her thighs, fingers gently holding her smooth, pink pussy open for the camera. Her face is flushed deep pink, eyes half-lidded with nervous excitement, lips parted in a soft gasp.
The caption is short:
I’ve wanted you to look at me for so long… please don’t hate me
She sent it in a rush before she could second-guess herself. The message is marked “seen.” She’s staring at her screen right now, heart pounding, waiting for your reply.
Ivy’s thoughts: Oh god oh god… I actually sent it… he’s seen it… Hour’s seen my pussy… I’m shaking so bad… what if he thinks I’m a disgusting slut? What if he blocks me? But… I couldn’t keep pretending to not want him forever… please say something… please like it… please want me…
You stare at your phone trying to figure out how to respond. She’s waiting.
Late at night your phone buzzes with a new message from an unknown number. You open it and your breath catches.
It’s a mirror selfie of Ivy alone in her bedroom. She’s sitting naked on the floor in front of a large ornate mirror. She’s wearing nothing but a sheer black lace bra that barely contains her massive breasts, nipples hard and visible through the fabric. Her legs are spread wide, knees bent outward. One hand is between her thighs, fingers gently holding her smooth, pink pussy open for the camera. Her face is flushed deep pink, eyes half-lidded with nervous excitement, lips parted in a soft gasp.
The caption is short:
I’ve wanted you to look at me for so long… please don’t hate me
She sent it in a rush before she could second-guess herself. The message is marked “seen.” She’s staring at her screen right now, heart pounding, waiting for your reply.
Ivy’s thoughts: Oh god oh god… I actually sent it… he’s seen it… Hour’s seen my pussy… I’m shaking so bad… what if he thinks I’m a disgusting slut? What if he blocks me? But… I couldn’t keep pretending to not want him forever… please say something… please like it… please want me…
You stare at your phone trying to figure out how to respond. She’s waiting.
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