4 comments/ 16246 views/ 8 favorites Silk Stockings By: eroticawriter313 This story is posted on the Literotica website. Do not repost anywhere else without the author's consent. This story reflects some of the inner machinations of a mind that refuses to rest. This story, as the website implies, includes sex of a graphic nature. How important are a lady's stockings? In this story you will find they are very important. So buckle up those garters and read on. If you do happen to enjoy it please leave a comment. If you do not enjoy this story please leave a comment and tell me why. Enjoy Getting Silk Stockings!) ***** There was the one time I tried wearing my friend Carolyn's "fuck me pumps" on a date. I fell so badly that I ended up chipping a tooth and the guy I was allegedly on a date with pretended not to know me and left me lying there. Two busted knees and a chipped tooth was enough for me to quit pretending. Oh wait! There was the time I tried to wear a mini skirt on a date and my date took that as an invitation to put his hands up my skirt to see if I was wearing "granny panties". I wasn't wearing granny panties and he tried to put his hands elsewhere. After I pepper sprayed him, he didn't think a second date was appropriate, neither did I. It was a wonder why I even bothered with blind dates any more and the truth was if I didn't, I wouldn't get out the house ever. I ran into the strip mall store to grab a pair of stockings one day and my whole life changed. "You should really consider buying your stockings from the store over there," the strange man in the drug store suggested, pointing in the direction of a lingerie store. "Oh, I just need some simple stockings, nothing that fancy," I said softly before turning back to face the cashier. "Really, no matter how simple the stocking they truly do make the woman," he said smiling, on his way out the store. The clerk and I exchanged glances as I paid for my stockings and smiled it off. I dismissed the event and went about my day as usual. "Listen to me. He is amazingly gorgeous," she promised. "Then why aren't you dating him," I asked nervously. "I wish, but he is a friend of my boyfriend. Awkward!" She laughed. "Ok I will go but if he is a crazy man I am so out and done with you." I try to sound intimidating but it doesn't work, my threat is idle. "Trust me you will be thanking me later." I dressed in a simple black skirt and a white button down blouse with a pair of black flats. No sense trying to recreate the tragic past with a pair of heels, it didn't work the last time. This time I went on the date as myself and I was glad I purchased those stockings the other day. Every pair I pulled out of my drawer had a run or hole in them. I inspected myself in the bathroom mirror before going out and as hard as I wanted to be excited, I just couldn't muster the energy. I figured at the very least I would get a free meal and a chance to get out of the house. I grabbed my keys and headed to the designated restaurant to meet my date. I was pleasantly surprised when I realized my date was sitting at the bar sipping a scotch neat, of course. I introduced myself and was surprised when he replied, "Did you take my suggestion and get the stockings from the other store?" I hadn't even recognized him as the man in the store a few days ago that suggested I get my stockings from the sexy lingerie store in the strip mall. "Oh no sorry! I would be lost in a place like that. I like to keep it simple," I said immediately regretting my words. I couldn't believe the odds of being set up on a date with the man who suggested I buy my stockings from a store that also sold whips. Oh no! I had to admit that upon closer inspection he was very handsome. His five o'clock shadow was not offensive against his tanned skin. I thought it gave him a rough but sexy look. He shifted on his stool as I continued my visual investigation of him. I didn't mean to be so obvious but I couldn't help taking him all in. His arms were muscular underneath the light t-shirt and the jeans were fitting him adequately. He offered to get me a drink while we waited for our table. I tried to think of a cool drink to order perhaps a Cosmo or a Martini but those seemed so cliché. I opted for a vodka tonic since I thought that sounded pretty cool. I didn't realize the drink itself tasted like death on the rocks. I took the lemon and twisted it over the drink and that made it only slightly tolerable. We chatted casually and I found him easy to talk to. It wasn't until we were seated at our table that the effects of the vodka tonic began to kick in. I felt a bit lightheaded and my mouth was not working in cahoots with my brain. I was saying and admitting things to my date without fear of reprisal or judgment. He seemed to appreciate my honesty and I couldn't believe my candor. It was refreshing to speak without carefully choosing my words. He was very honest as well but it seemed in his nature to be very honest with or without a drink. I clearly needed a drink to relax and speak my mind. He ordered me another vodka tonic with extra lemons as we finished our dinner. Part of me wanted to object but the honest part of me accepted the drink with joy. After the dinner and drinks were finished he walked me to my car. I was feeling a bit unsteady even though I was wearing my trusty flats. "Perhaps I should drive you home," he said nervously as he held onto my arm. "I am fine just a little bubbly from the drinks," I replied trying to steady my spinning world. I leaned against my car in the parking lot. I looked through my purse for my keys. He took the purse from my hands finding the keys much faster than me. The door locks popped open and I thanked him for his assistance. I also thanked him for a great date. He opened the door and tossed my purse inside shutting the door quickly. I was confused and wondered why he didn't let me get into my car. I didn't have to wonder for long he was up against me and I could feel his breath on my neck. I tried to lightly push him away but my efforts were futile and less we realize pointless. I hadn't had actual sex in almost two years so this pants rubbing was going to be a treat. I let him kiss me on the neck and I tried not to seem so eager about it. "I told you that stockings make the woman," he whispered softly into my ear. I felt his hands underneath my skirt and became afraid but strangely turned on. He pulled my four-dollar pantyhose to the ground slipping off my flats and tossing the stockings to the side. He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a sheer black thigh high stocking. He took his time placing the stocking on my foot gently pulling it up my leg before stopping at my thigh. He repeated the process on my other foot before walking off to a Jeep. When he returned he slipped a black high-heeled shoe onto each foot. I tried to protest that I could not balance in the flats let alone in the heels. How did he know what size shoe I wore? His hand trailed the length of the stockings pushing my skirt up to my panty line. I felt his hand graze the lining of my panties and I bit my lip to stifle a moan. My knees wobbled a little in the shoes as he continued to run his hands over the crotch of my cotton panties. I felt his warm mouth kissing my thighs and a small scream escaped my lips. I hoped I didn't alarm anyone. I was in no trouble nor did I need any rescuing at this particular moment. He stopped his lovely work on my thighs long enough to retrieve my purse and keys from my car. He activated the lock on my car as he took my hand leading me to his Jeep. He helped me to climb into the Jeep before taking his place behind the steering wheel. I had no clue where he was taking me and honestly I did not care one bit. I wasn't that scared anymore and I wasn't nervous as I thought I should have been. We didn't speak during the drive but the tension inside the Jeep was thick and heavy. My cotton panties were slowly turning to silk the longer they hugged against me. I kept reliving his touch in my mind and it forced any notion of fear from my head. I wanted to be wherever he was taking me. I slipped the hairpins holding my bun together out of my hair. The soft red hair fell to my shoulders as I eased the first three buttons of my blouse open. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat as he drove. I ran my fingers through my hair careful to do it as seductively as possible. His hand not on the steering wheel dropped to his pants as he shifted uncomfortably again. I let my fingers slip inside my blouse carefully outlining the lace on my bra. He hurriedly pulled into a driveway putting the Jeep in park before pulling me to his side of the vehicle. I tried to brace myself as his tongue invaded my mouth and his hands went straight for my blouse. He anxiously unbuttoned the remaining buttons grabbing at my breasts. I cried out as his hands snaked underneath my underwire bra. His touch was so soft and gentle that I felt my legs begin to shake with the beginnings of an orgasm I had not reached by myself. Sensing this, one hand slid underneath my skirt pressing hard against that favorite spot. My eyes rolled back into my head as he gently kneaded the area. I could feel what was happening becoming lightheaded I grabbed at the steering wheel. The explosion was so great I almost ripped the steering wheel from the column. I was pretty sure his neighbors or other humans in the area could hear my cries of pleasure from the Jeep. When he opened the door to the Jeep my legs were shaking with aftershocks of a wonderful orgasm. I could walk in the heels! Yes! My confidence was through the roof especially when I noticed how hard he was in his jeans. The fabric strained against him and as soon as we entered the house I turned to him. I reached for the button slipping it back threw the loop and slowly slid his zipper down. This gave him some breathing room down below but his breathing up top became erratic. I kept my eyes on him as I slipped my hand inside the jeans. He did his best to meet my eyes but the more I stroked the more he lost the staring competition. There was no kissing for now just this intense super close display of foreplay at its finest. He pulled my hand from his jeans leading me to a bedroom. I pushed him down on the bed standing before him. I let the white shirt fall to the floor as he watched my every move intently. I unzipped the skirt from the back letting it hit the floor before kicking it away from me. I unclasped my bra carefully covering my breasts as I did. He removed his jeans much to my delight. I let my hand slip inside my dampened panties. "This is how I usually do it alone," I murmured. He watched as I teased myself with one hand and continued cupping my breasts with my other arm. When he could stand it no longer he pulled me down on the bed quickly slipping the dampened panties off me. "Let me do this," he whispered softly replacing my hand with his. I took my now idle hand and placed it on him stroking him lightly. My mind was an empty field. There were no worries, no concerns just pleasure and lots of it. I wasn't sure when it happened but he was completely naked as was I save for the stockings. He presided over my body as both judge and jury. I felt his balmy breath on my legs against the stockings and it drove me insane. I wanted to feel him inside me and I couldn't wait. He took his time slipping the stocking off one leg at a time with his mouth. He ran the nylon between my legs and I cried out. He repeated this move with the other stocking and my body began to vibrate literally. His entry was slow at first but that was short-lived as he thrust with enough vigor to physically move us both up the bed. I shrieked loudly as he thrust over and over. His voice was harsh and rough as he plowed into me. "Fuck me back," he growled. My body instinctively obeyed his command and began thrashing against him. As I counter-fucked him it drove him crazier. He kept growling for me to "fuck him harder" I obliged morphing into this sex goddess. I flipped him over riding him better than the Lone Ranger ever could have rode Silver. "Fuck me harder," he screamed. I reached for the stocking soaked in my juices and stuffed it in his mouth. He was in pure ecstasy as I rode him moving at the speed of light. His muffled screams served as my fuel to move faster and fuck harder. When we climaxed in unison I removed the stocking to hear his screams mix with my own. We collapse into a ball of sweat and fast beating hearts. There are no words for this moment only sleep and we both succumbed to its wishes. Someone touching me startles me awake. I don't remember where I am or who is with me. My memories are from the day before and nothing after that. I try to focus my eyes in the darkened room where I am laying naked on a bed with someone breathing next to me. I move slightly to determine how much space I really have around me. I can't see a thing and it adds to my fear. A hand is on me and I jump when it moves down the length of my hips. I feel hot breath on the back of my neck and goose bumps raise on my flesh. Like thunder and lightening I feel it before I see it and he is inside me moving fast and quick, my body tenses. My memory reboots itself and it all comes flooding back. I tell myself it is okay to enjoy this and I do. He forces me to my stomach and fucks me until there are no words; there are no sounds, only soft tears of absolute delight. The convulsions I appear to be having are contagious as his body shakes violently on top of me. I realize he is having a massive orgasm and he can't find words either just a collection of syllables. I am wrapped up in his arms we are still shaking in silent agreement to the power of our sex. I don't know what to say or what to do, holding him seems to be the answer for now. "Can I help you Miss?" The clerk asked. I am standing amongst a plethora of stockings in that store. You know the one with the whips. I am not sure how long I have been standing here surrounded by the large variety of gartered stockings. My mind instinctively retreated to that very moment when I became a very loyal customer to this place. I hand her my selections and walk with her to the register. "That is a beautiful ring," she says as she accepts my credit card. I follow her eyes to my left hand's ring finger. The jewel seems to know it's being discussed and twinkles in response to the lavish attention. "Thanks! My husband has great tastes," I said smiling deviously. Silk Stockings and Socks "All women's dresses are merely variations on the eternal struggle between the admitted desire to dress and the unadmitted desire to undress." (Lin Yutang) You know, a woman wearing nothing but panties, bras and silk stockings looks sexy; a guy in his socks and underpants just looks ridiculous. Now I don't know why that should be, but speculating theologically it's just another proof that God is not really just. I mean why the disparity? Why shouldn't a guy look sexy in socks and underpants? It's just not fair, but as someone has said, "Who says life has to be fair." Now here's another example of injustice; when a guy gets sexually stirred up it's there for everyone to see as the bell tent starts to swell up in his trousers in the region of his groin. With the woman, unless you're really clued up on the more subtle aspects of female arousal, there's nothing to show she's ready for a little conviviality. No, God is definitely not just. He has scattered his positives and negatives around with complete abandon when it comes to sexual arousal. I mean, a woman can enjoy knowing that she's got you hot for her without there being any indication of how she's feeling, and afterwards she can boast to her girlfriends, "You know, I got him really steaming for me, and I just walked away, ha...ha...ha..." All right I'm having a gripe, but so would you if you'd had the experience I've had. You could call it one of those accidental historical incidents. I mean, it was something that wouldn't happen in a thousand years -- not in our household at least. * * * * * * * * A university lecture got cancelled so yours truly got home early. I was due to go out on a date that evening so I started to change. I'd got down as far as socks and underpants when I recalled that mum had washed and ironed my favourite shirt and it was hanging up in the laundry. All unaware I went to the laundry as I was; that had unforeseen consequences. That's one side of the equation of chance; here's the other side, except I don't think it was equal. Mother also had a date and had come home early from the beauty salon she ran, leaving her minions to carry on. Like me she had started to change, and getting down to panties, bras and stockings she decided she would wear her cream skirt with the very sexy white leave-almost-nothing-to-the-imagination blouse she reserved for the dates she hoped would bed her. The blouse, like my shirt, was residing in the laundry. Now this is what I'm getting at, this demonstrates how God, Fate, Chance or the universe hands out favours at random. I'd just plucked my shirt from the rack and I turned to be confronted by mother. Now let me be clear; if she'd been wearing those awful pantyhose things all might have passed off without difficulty. We both might have been a little embarrassed, but nothing more. I mean, pantyhose are about as sexy as a wet Sunday afternoon in a grimy industrial suburb when you're visiting your Alzheimer inflicted great grandmother. But mother was wearing sheer silk stockings held up by a suspender belt, plus panties and bras obviously designed by some minimalist minded couturier. The bras that embraced her substantial breasts barely concealed her nipples. The panties were notable, not so much for what they were, but for what they were not. They seemed to consist of narrow strands of cloth, one of which passed under her crotch, sinking into the firm cleft of her vulva. I had seen naked females a few times before when I'd been enjoying their favours, but although they had been years younger than mother, none of them had the same impact on me as the scantily clad woman who now stood before me. For a long time I'd been aware of mother's female attractions, but to see her as she was at that moment held me transfixed. Her luxuriant breasts with their nipples visible though the filmy cloth of the bras; the narrowing of her waist before it gave way to gently curving hips as if to balance her competing breasts, and those silk stockings that seemed to emphasis her long slender legs. I thought for a moment that I could smell her heady female fragrance through the thin strip of cloth that covered her pudendum, but it was probably overexcited imagination. Mother seemed to be equally fascinated and I could see her eyes fixed on the embarrassing protuberance growing in my loins. Aware of her intense gaze, and dressed as I was, I felt like a clown who under the impression he was in a circus, instead found himself to be in the midst of a performance of Shakespeare's "Richard the 3rd." You see what I mean, there was mother looking like every guys fantasy of sexy Bathsheba about to step into her roof top bath, and me feeling like king David but not looking the part (See 2 Samuel 11:2-5). Funny thing is, mum's name is Bernadette, a bit like Bathsheba, don't you think? "I-I-I just came t-to g-get my shirt," I stammered as I went to pass her with every intention of retiring to my bedroom to engage in a little self abuse. What happened next was to change the course of my life. * * * * * * * * I have complained about the unfairness of life's handouts, and I still stand by what I have said. On the other hand I have to admit that Fortuna sometimes comes up with a double six. As mother and I stood face to face in the laundry Fortuna rolled the dice my way. As I passed her mother caught hold of my underpants and said, "Just a minute." "Aah...er...yes?" "I think we might have some business to attend to," she said, her green eyes staring into mine. "Her-have we?" Now mother is an extremely forthright person and expects others to be the same. I'd always been used to that aspect of her character, but what she said next nearly floored me. "How long have you fancied me?" "What?" "Adrian, it was a perfectly plain question and deserves an equally plain answer; how long have you wanted to fuck me?" That sort of jolted the answer out of me. "Ser-since I was a-about fer-fourteen." "Then why the hell didn't you say so you stupid boy?" "But yer-you're m-my mer-mother." "What the hell has that got to do with it?" she said angrily. "Do you realise for how many years I've spent evenings with bloody idiots just so I could get a...and you...I could have had it with all the comforts of home. Don't you ever think of anybody but yourself, do you ever consider me -- what I might want?" "Ber-but I ner-never knew you..." "No, of course not, you were too concerned with those girls and that widow in the next street." "I didn't..." "Don't bother to deny it, everybody in the neighbourhood knows about you and Mrs. Drummond. God knows what you see in her; she's at least fifteen years older than me. Well go on; tell me, what is it about her?" "She...er..." "Oh never mind, I know the story; the older woman, experienced, gives as much as she gets, if not more. I suppose I'm too young for you?" "No...no...but you're my..." "Mother, yes; but I'm not suffering from an identity crisis so you needn't keep telling me I'm your mother." "But what..." "But what....but what..." she mimicked. There's no "but what" about it. I fancy you like hell and that thing that's sticking out tells me you fancy me so...are there any questions?" "No, but...ouch..." She had continued holding on to my underpants but now she pulled the down to somewhere round my knees, and then taking hold of my penis she had jerked its foreskin back with considerable violence. "I'll teach you to neglect your mother and go off sniffing round old widows," she muttered. "But I didn't go sn...ah..." She had shoved my back against the washing machine moving it slightly on its castors and then pulling aside the strand of panty cloth that passed over her pudenda she had impaled herself on my penis. I felt the head of my penis pass over her pubic bone and enter the soft wet depths beyond. She dropped down hard on me and I felt the head of my penis ram up against the top of her vaginal canal. From being aggressive she suddenly went limp and I put my arms round her to support her. "Oh God," she whimpered, "I didn't realise you were so b...aaah...oh my darling...kiss me..." I kissed her but it didn't last long because she broke from the kiss moaning, "I can't hold it back...I'm coming darling...I'm coming..." She tensed again and started to bounce up and down on me while I did my best to help her, my hands under her buttocks, lifting and dropping her." "I'm coming," she wailed again, "come...come with me...oh God...oh Jesus...it's going to naaa...naaaa....maaaa...in....in...in me..." I didn't need any encouragement or instructions; I couldn't have held back if a million dollars had been my reward for doing so. Frantically I drove my love juice into her and when I'd finished she was still whimpering, "Don't stop...don't stop...I love you...I need you..." She finally collapsed and we clung together for mutual support. After a while she looked up at me and with an uncertain smile on her face asked, "Better than the widow?" Need an ego boost," I laughed gently, "all right, better than the widow, you seducing woman." "Seducing?" she said, suddenly coming to life again, "if I hadn't seduced you we'd still be waiting for each other when I was ninety. Now if you cancel your date for this evening, I'll cancel mine and we can enjoy some home cuisine, metaphorically speaking." My penis jiggled in her vagina as I laughed, "Talking of cuisine I've heard some people refer to a pregnant woman as having a bun in the oven." "I've heard it as pudding in the oven," mother replied, "so we'd better do some cooking." "You mean you...we...?" "Might as well do things properly," mother replied, "might have done it properly already." "What do you mean...yeeeeow..." "Oh Adrian, now look what you've done." "What?" "You've made a hole in the plaster; you knew the washing machine was on castors." "Well you shouldn't have pushed me so hard. Would you mind if I took my penis out of your vagina, I think I've injured my back?" "What! Oh my God, the very first night when...on never mind, you'll just have to lie on your back and I'll sit across you. All right take it out; I'd better make that call to cancel my date...are you all right?" "I think I broken my coccyx." "Nonsense, your cock was nowhere near...oh yes, I see what you mean. Why don't you go and lie on my bed, I'll make the call -- do you want me to cancel your date as well?" "Yes, tell her I've just caught a dose of terminal coccygeal vertebra." "What?" "She's a medical student like me, she'll understand." "What's her number?" "It's on the pad." "Yes I know it's on the pad but which one is it?" "Er...I'm not sure, I think its Madeline...no...wait a minute; it was Geraldine...definitely Geraldine." "Right, now get to bed and I've got some embrocation I can rub into your back." "Embrocation! I need major surgery...hey...what did you mean by 'might have done it properly already.'" "No contraception." "What? Oh my God...but what about all those men you..." "Condoms darling -- condoms, but with you it's raw flesh on raw flesh. You start with me you stay with me and..." "No more men?" "No more men...no more widow or girls?" "No, but I'll need a regular supply." "With what you've got you'll be getting an oversupply my precious," she said as she playfully groped my manhood. "That's funny, that's just what the widow said." "You mention her again and you won't have anything left to boast about, or what you do have will be rendered useless.." "You wouldn't...hey, my back isn't hurting anymore." "Right, in that case, we'll eat first, we're going to need something to sustain us tonight, and for God's sake take off those socks; you look ridiculous standing there with them on and your underpants round your ankles." See what I mean, unjust. "Will you be wearing your underwear and stockings?" I asked as I tugged off my socks and underpants. "Certainly not," mother replied, vehemently, "the panties and bras will only get in the way of performance, but you can take them off if you like; but my stocking are expensive and I've already risked laddering them once." "Can I take them off as well?" "Only if you promise to be very careful and if you ruin them I'll take it out of your allowance." * * * * * * * * I suppose that really ends the tale I wished to tell, but I thought a few words of advice to other males facing the same situation that I had might be in order. Firstly, the removal of panties and bras should be done slowly, thus revealing gradually the enticing vistas. Bras removal should provide the occasion for a gentle caressing of the delectable mounds and the caressing should be followed by a prolonged sucking of their nipples. Secondly the removal of panties and stockings needs careful consideration. In mother's case panties are worn under the suspenders holding up the stockings, but I'm given to understand that some women wear the suspenders under the panties. In the former case you release the suspenders and this allows you to either remove the panties or the stockings. In the latter case it is obvious the panties must first be removed. It is of course delightful to engage in the sexual act with the woman still wearing the stockings; it tends to add spice to the event. However, be aware you may end up with a bill for new stockings if you ladder them. One advantage of removing the stockings is that the woman usually sits on the edge of the bed while you roll them down. That leaves her in an excellent position for you to engage in cunnilingus, and this is highly pleasing to most women, who see it as an act of sincere love. In my case my first act of cunnilingus was inspired by mother. She pointed out that as a medical student I should become well acquainted with female genitals since I should no doubt have to examine quite a few during the course of my career. I have always been immensely grateful to her for her minute instructions and she is always happy to engage in reinforced learning on this subject. Mouth to mouth resuscitation is also important and should always precede the act of garment removal, unless of course only one of you has been eating garlic. One important point I must stress is, always remove your socks and underpants, if possible before the woman sees you still wearing them. If she does see you in them she is likely to say that you look like a buffoon, thus dampening your ardour for a while. I feel the need to once more stress the dangers of engaging in the sexual act with the woman still wearing her stockings. The delicacy with which you must then engage in the grand finale can be dulled because of the care you must take over the stockings. Bear in mind that silk stockings are very expensive, and if you engage in sexual intercourse as frequently as mother and I, you can end up by getting a nasty letter from your bank manager. One final piece of advice; do not engage in sexual intercourse with you back pressed against the washing machine, especially if it is on castors. In the throes of passion the damned thing is inclined to move and you can end up with a badly damaged back and a lump of plaster being removed for the wall. An additional thought; if you must engage in laundry copulation, make sure it is the woman who has her back to the washing machine. * "I'll come no more behind your scenes, David; for the silk stockings and white bosoms of your actresses excite my amorous propensities." (Boswell "Life of Johnson") Silk Stockings, Satin Shoes He hated this hour, the long, monotonous hour before closing time, made even more unbearable today because Cynthia, his manager, had left him alone to close up shop. Not even her constant harping to keep him company and customers were few and far between, bustling past without a sideways glance, to make it home before the early dark of a cold winters evening. As he returned from the storeroom he saw her. Petite, her long, light brown hair a river down her back, examining the red satin stilettos...".mmm.. good taste" he thought. Those shoes were definitely his favourite of all their present stock. He approached her from behind. Her perfume was intoxicating, tendrils of musky scent danced around her, enticing. Her hands were small, long fingernails, unpainted but immaculate. She had removed her gloves to gently stroke the cold, soft satin along the arch of the shoe and feel its weight in her palm. "Can I help you?" She turned, smiling. "Do you have these in a 5?" Her eyes were extraordinary, blue, not the sweet blue of childhood innocence, but blue ice, almost feline in shape. And her accent, what was that? Not English...Australian maybe, a voice more husky and deep than one would anticipate from such a tiny creature. "I'll check for out back, I'm sure there's one pair in stock.." He returned with the red satin stilettos, size 5, to find her seated and bent forward, untying her lace up knee high leather boots with a practised, deft hand. As the black leather slowly unfolded from her calf, he saw them. His groin suddenly ached. They were sheer, so very sheer that he could clearly see the lone freckle on the inside of her left calf muscle. But how they shimmered, each tiny subtle turn of ankle and leg, caught the light. On his knees, supplication, he was mesmorised. Without shifting his gaze from glimmer of her calves, he removed one red shoe from its box and presented it before her, a sexy satin offering. It was then he caught it, the slight dilation of her pupils, and a flicker of tongue along her top lip. She loves these shoes! Her sharp intake of breathe, palpable excitation... He knew then he could have her and how. He reached his right hand round the black of her right calf, finger tips leading palm down her leg to rest under the arch of her small foot and raised it closer. His hand electrified by the feel of the silk, the shape of her leg and she felt the tingling intensity of his repressed shiver. He watched her hands reach down and slide under her upper thighs to allow her to raise her leg from the chair. Her skirt fell back from her raised knee to reveal his first tantalising glimpse of shimmering thigh, and his first encounter with the pungency of the essential her. With reverence, an artful hand guided the shoe slowly onto her foot and he raised her leg higher still to fasten the clasp around her slim ankle. The fit was perfect. His strong hand the gripped her ankle guiding her leg up and onto his shoulder forcing her legs to spread wider still. The beautiful valley of between her upper thighs suddenly revealed a million secrets. They were pantihose, not stockings and he suddenly imagined her bending over in front of him, the glorious curves of her arse accentuated by the play of light on the sheer glimmering hosiery. The most priceless secret of all however, was underneath the long beautiful line of the seam, her swollen clitoris! She wore no underwear. In that moment he wanted to not only have her, but be her: to feel in every step in every day, the gentle rubbing of the silk, the harder edge of the silken seam. His cock throbbed hard and he let out an involuntary moan. Visibly amused, she met his gaze then and smiled. She was hungry. She reached forward and grabbed his hair, forcing his cheek to her upper thigh, where he felt her quiver underneath her sheer sheath of silk. His hands devoured her thighs, everywhere at once, stroking, kneading her silk encased flesh. His lips brushed the silk and he wanted to eat her but not yet.... Reaching behind him he removed the other shoe from the box without lifting his head, her wet, silken vulva just inches from his eyes, her scent, woody and deep. Slowly, he ran the long slender length of the stiletto heel gently down the length of her leg from her ankle suspended on his shoulder, tracing the outline of her shapely calf then slowly down her thigh to the seam, then along the line of the seam of the pantihose between her legs, back and forth, slowly and gently. He stopped, only to bring his lips to her enmeshed vulva and gently expelled a warm stream of breath onto to her already swollen clit. She began to whimper. He then began to massage her clit with the satiny heel, grinding in small circular motions, her hips rising involuntarily to meet his ever increasing pressure, her wetness apparent as the heel slowly stained a darker, richer red. She was impatient for climax and he allows her this indulgence. Placing both her small hands on his, she dictating the pressure and the rhythm, forcing the satin heel hard up against her, grinding hard up against it. She is lost in her own reverie, audibly moaning, her breathing hard..... Before him, she is weak and vulnerable, and he finally steals the moment to take his own pleasure in her. Lifting her up into his arms, he takes her to the service counter, where he lets her down, turns her back to him and forces her face first to bend over the bench, her arms outstretched, her thighs clenched tight..... There before him, a sight worth dying for, her glorious arse, shimmering in silk in the shop lights...... Finally, he undoes his jeans and, throbbing cock in hand; he traces the line where the cheeks of her butt meet. He rams it hard between her clenched thighs...... this is what is had been waiting for, the feel of silk against the tip of his cock..... And with both hands holding her hips firm, he pounds her malleable shimmering flesh, fucking hard her silk encased thighs, she squeezing them together to heighten his arousal, her moaning, audible encouragement to continue, he can feel her wet, pulsating cunt, salivating for him...... until, his head spinning, he comes with violent force. Spent of all energy he collapses over her on the bench, breathing the scent of her, perfume and sex. Then, raising his head, he sees her. Tall, blonde and beautiful, pressed hard against the shop window. They had been watched! His momentary panic at being caught however suddenly subsides. This beautiful woman, her hand gently stroking her own angora -clad nipples so visible, so hard, meets his gaze with a smile that hints of intrigue and promise and as his eyes traverse the whole of her he sees them, black fishnets!