Roxanne groans as she tosses the throw blanket off to answer the door. Before she reaches it, the doorbell rings again. “Alright!” she shouts. “I’m coming... ! I’m coming... !”

When she opens the door she finds a man about her age standing there in a Package Express uniform. “Roxy Carters?” he asks.

“Yeah, but only my friends call me Roxy,” she corrects.

The guy rolls his eyes. “It says Roxy on here,” he says. “Look, I only read the name, I don’t judge.”

“Yeah, whatever,” the girl puffs. “What is it?”

The delivery guy smirks and frowns at her. “How the hell should I know?”

He’s got a point and Roxanne realizes, but she isn’t going to admit it. Normally she is sweet, forgiving and genuinely an interesting person to be around. Today though, she really isn’t in the mood. She just got fired from her job a couple days ago and bills are due, not to mention rent just around the corner. Earlier today she even considered selling herself to cover expenses until she found another job, but she quickly dismissed the idea. She is one of those rare beauties that not only look good and most men’s dream girl, with sensuously proportioned hips and breasts and long shapely legs, but she is also intelligent. She would definitely make what she needs and more, but ultimately she decided to forget she even considered it.

“Just sign here, will ya?” the delivery guy says. “I’ve got a shit ton of packages to still deliver today.”

Grumbling, Roxanne signs and closes the door. She carries the box into the living room and drops it on the coffee table. With a sigh she goes into the kitchen. To make matters worse, her boyfriend John broke up with her last week, telling her he was in love with someone else. It was fine with her. The last thing Roxanne needs in her life is a snivel, weaseling cheater. But add the job less to her resume, she is a train wreck. She stopped crying last night, realizing just how foolish she had been. She is better off without him and the job. John used his charm and abilities in bed to get him what he wanted. The job was a dead end, shit paying one. Still, the problem of money and bills hangs over her head.

Most certainly her mother would ask her to come back home if she knew the circumstances. Roxanne dreads the idea. She has been on her own for too long to want to go back home and be taken care of by her parents—her sister maybe, but not her. She grabs a beer and slips back into the living room, right across from the tightly wrapped package on the coffee table.

Curious, she leans forward, setting the bottle of beer on the table and pulls at the tape binding it shut. Inside there is an equally well-wrapped box with a pink bow. For a second she wonders if it from John, asking for forgiveness. “Fat chance I’d give that asshole another shot...” she mumbles. She looks for a card or some kind of note, but there doesn’t seem to be one. Pulling out the box and shoving the larger one off the table, she pulls off the bow and flips open the top. Roxanne peels aside the pink tissue paper and there in the box, framed by the corners is the most beautiful pair of bikini panties she has ever seen. The girl loves lingerie and the more expensive and luxurious the better. Most girls like diamonds and jewelry, not Roxanne. The key to her heart is in lingerie, and the more expensive and better feeling, the sexier she feels. And these are definitely expensive, and perhaps the most expensive designer label money can buy.

She touches them to feel the quality of the material, almost afraid to move them and disturb the look, as they look more like art than underwear. They are so fine, almost sheer and transparent. Both inside and out they feel exquisitely sexy. For a brief single moment the girl feels a twinge of arousal. She hasn’t had sex since her break up. It is kind of hard to do that when she has spent the better part of the last three years practically fucking every night, sometime several times a day. But that had left when that bastard did.

The cut is just how she likes them and she knows they are her size. This style is her favorite because of how she looks in them and how a lovers hand feels through them. And when she is caressed, she gets wet. They become easy to just shove to the side and be entered from behind. The images of being fucked while wearing these panties consumes Roxanne’s thoughts in a sexy daydream that ends up taking her away from reality for a few minutes.

When she finally drags herself back to reality as her fantasy fuck brings her to a mystery man who will save her from this misery of no money and end of her freedom, she begins to fumble through the box for a card. But again, there isn’t one. “Well, fuck...” She smiles though, holding the panties in her hands and feeling the beautifully crafted fabric.

Then she gets an idea.

She slips off the pair of plain cotton panties she is wearing. There is no sense in being sexy if there is no one to be sexy for. But even so, these are new panties, and new panties need to be tried out and worn. Roxanne slides them on slowly as if the gift giver is watching her. She slides them up, bending sensually so that her pert, round ass cheeks wiggle seductively. Then slowly she puts each leg into the panties before sliding them up to her ass, smoothing them over her sweet cheeks and adjusting the front over her recently shaved snatch.

They feel even better than they look. And the moment her flesh feels them against it, her pussy dribbles wetness onto them. She drops her shirt over them and sits back on the couch. At the very least she is going to enjoy wearing something so incredibly sexy and incredibly expensive and not care about the rest of the world for a day. She decides too, not to call her parents. If she is lucky, something good will come her way and everything will turn out alright.

They are such a comfort, or maybe because her mind can actually have a break from stressing over everything, Roxanne falls asleep on the couch. Before falling asleep though, she had been tempted to masturbate when she thought about how sexy she felt or how she must look in the panties. And she seems to be getting more and more aroused by the minute. But Roxanne never gave in, and maybe that is why ultimately she fell asleep.

When she wakes up, something about her feels different. Roxanne doesn’t know what that is right off the bat. Maybe she is feeling happier, more buoyant and incredibly aroused. She reaches her hands down and feels the soft fabric against her firm curves, the warmth of her skin and...

What the hell is that? Roxanne’s eyes fly open. She has a big, fluffy tail! Instantly she is freaked out. Her hand goes to her head and there she feels something else. Ears! “What the fuck is going on... ?” she nearly cries.

Okay, so this is totally new. But strangely, no matter how new or odd, or whatever it is, she finds that she is still aroused ... like extremely horny aroused. She hasn’t been without sex for years, and a week is a hell of a long time for someone like that. But at the same time she feels really, really sexy ... foxy even. Now there’s something funny...

Almost immediately her brain switches over from shock to pleasure filled thoughts. It is like her body is on autopilot while her mind races to catch up to it. Already the girl’s imagination is running wild as she begins to imagine a hot guy—the delivery guy—running his hands over her pert ass cheeks. She slides her other hand beneath her shirt to begin pinching her nipples and fondling her firm, round breasts.

The fantasy is working. The delivery guy is making her cream in her panties. The hand that fondles her ass moves to the front of her panties. She holds her fist against them and grinds against it as if it were a large, hard cock. She feels the twinges and shivers as her wetness trickles into the panties. Her fist spread and she caresses her folds through the fabric with her fingers so lightly as to cause her to moan loudly. The fingers dance danced across her folds sensuously. She loves the feeling of the soft material against her fingertips and the inside of her panties swell with excitement and grows wetter as the first tingles and shivers seize her body. She climaxes violently, screaming. “Oh fuck me! Just fuck me!”

Roxanne tears the tight legs of the panties aside and slides a finger into her twat. Then she falls back onto the arm of the couch as if the delivery guy had pushed her there. She leans back and spreads her legs and thrusts three fingers into her hot, wet and excited cunt. His is a big prick and hers is a tiny, tight pussy that men dream of from the beginnings of their puberty. The girl bucks at her thrusting digits. She tears her shirt off and is clutching her breast passionately in her hand, squeezing her nipple until it is rigid with excitement.

The orgasms come rolling in and washing over her almost continuously. She rolls over on the couch to present her ass to her imaginary delivery guy and continues to thrust her fingers into her wetness until she feels that wetness dripping down her thighs. She has climaxed repeatedly for almost an hour and feels a little exhausted, but still unbelievably aroused. And she still hasn’t addressed her new tail and ears. But before she can do even that, the sound of her phone ringing emanates from the side table. Roxanne manages to stop fondling herself long enough to reach for it and answer the call. “Hello...” she pants a little breathlessly.

“Hello, Miss Carters.” It is a man’s voice, not the delivery guy’s either.

“Who is this?” she asks.

“Did you get my gift?” he counters.

“Um ... yes... ? Who are you? What do you want from me? If you think...”

“It’s quite alright. Please calm down,” the man interrupts. “I am just someone who cares for you very deeply and I know you need help. I don’t want anything from you really. I would just like to know if you would care to join me for dinner. If not, then keep the gift and I will not bother you again.”

Roxanne is dumbfounded. She certainly could just tell him good bye, but there is this problem with the ears and tail, and it most likely has something to do with the panties. “Um, I guess dinner would be okay, but you have to know something first...”

“Yes, the ears and tail,” he confirms. “I had hoped you wouldn’t wear the panties until I called you first.”

“Well, I did,” she says, sounding hopeful.

“I guess that gives us one more thing to talk about over dinner then,” he says.

Roxanne takes down the details and heads for the shower. When the panties came off, the ears and tails didn’t. She puts the panties back on again. They are damp with her recent pleasure, but she feels good in them. She dresses in a short dress, crushing her luscious breasts into a bra that sort of matches the panties and stretches the sexy little dress over her shapely form, adjusting the bra so her cleavage is discreet but visible. She feels sexy, she feels wanted and strangely the panties make her feel like her new ears and tail don’t matter.

The girl meets his car at the appointed time and she is driven to a very large estate. She feels slightly uncomfortable, but the driver reassures her that his boss is a standup guy, and has a personal chef that makes the best food ever. While his employer may be a standup guy, the driver spends a good deal of time looking in the rear view mirror, scanning her bare legs up to her new fluffy tail and right between her legs where the delicious panties stretch over her damp cunt. It makes her feel even sexier!

Roxanne is escorted to the door where she is left alone in the foyer. A moment later, a man looking to be pushing fifty walks up to her. He looks good for his age, muscled and tall but with a gentle countenance and distinguished gray hair. He has a little scruffy beard, but it too makes him look sexy. “Good evening, Miss Carters. I trust my driver took good care of you?”

She feels like a princess or a girl in a romantic movie about to be swept off her feet. “Yes perfectly,” she says. “You have a nice home.”

“It’s only nice if you have someone to share it with,” he says. “By the way, my name is Salvatore Eli Vaughn. But you may call me Eli.”

“The Salvatore Vaughn?” she asks.

“The one and only,” he confirms. “Would you care to follow me into the dining room? We can talk more there.”

Roxanne nods and follows him where he pulls out a chair for her before taking his own. She adjusts the hem of her short dress and crosses her legs, knowing that he is looking the whole time. The girl suddenly feels his generosity and she feels compelled to at least act in this little charade with him.

“Miss Carters...”

“Roxy,” she offers.

“Roxy,” he repeats. “You don’t have to flirt with me because I gave you a gift. If I wanted sex I’m sure you realize I could buy a lot of it with my money. What I want is the pleasure of your company.”

She breathes a sigh of relief and they spend the evening chatting quite naturally. Roxanne learns that the ear and tail come with the panties. He had bought them at a mysterious lingerie store and told the wearer shouldn’t put them on without knowing what will happen. Roxanne isn’t happy about it, but she is assured that with his money and help, they can find a way to reverse the side effects. Afterward she is taken home by Eli. The drive is slow and the conversation flows so naturally that it is only when she leans forward and her short hem slides up to reveal the panties that the conversation freezes.