****** Saturday Afternoon Football? by Tonitvuk@aol.com ******
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Saturday Afternoon Football?


This is a follow up to a story I posted in May 2000 (What girls get, which you
find within the collection section of the General Story (M-Z) postings) and
relates to an incident whilst still 14. I should point out that any vague
similarity to a sequence within the film 'Billy Elliot' is purely coincidental,
and anyway, my incident occurred during the 1970's and not 1984 as portrayed
within the film.

Young lads from my part of the world have only one thing on their minds, well
two if you count following Leeds United, and that's sex. Our right hands are
our best mates and we spend much of the time fantasizing about anything in
skirts. The age of the female isn't always of importance, and one of the
biggest fantasies revolves around friend's mothers.

Stephen and I would often discuss the relative benefits of each other's, and
other friend's mothers. This was a time when skirts were short, very short,
much as today, and legs seemed to go on forever.

During a late summers Saturday afternoon, Leeds were playing away and we were
meant to be listening to the match on the radio in my bedroom. It was in days
before multi channels and football (soccer to friends in the USA) was not
generally televised live. The game seemed to be going nowhere so we started to
discuss our favorite topic. I managed to 'borrow' my mother's mail order
catalogue and we started to flick through the lingerie section hoping to catch
sight of pubic hair through the panties and girdles.

"What does your mother wear?" Stephen said, "You know underwear." He gestured
to his body waving his hand.

"Not that," I laughed pointing at fully fitted corsets with attached suspenders
(garters) that's for old lasses. "She wears this sort of stuff," I said tapping
the page, bikini sets of bra and knickers (panties)

"Does she wear tights or stockings?" Stephen asked

"Both, but not at the same time," we both laughed.

"Have you ever seen her in them?" he asked me.

"Yes I have, when she's getting dressed to go out, what about your mother," I
asked him.

"Nagh, not seen her."

"What does she wear?" I said trying to make the question a bit clearer.

"Ohh, fuller body type stuff."

His mother was a round woman and some years older than my mother who was 35 at
that time, and although she had had three kids, two girls, and me she had
managed to keep her figure.

"She quite a sexy woman your mother," Stephen told me, "I've always liked her."

He then proceeded to detail what he found attractive about her, much more
detailed then we had gone in to before.

"Do you want to see some of her stuff?" I interrupted, jumping off the bed. "I
know where she keeps it"

Of course I knew. Unknown to anyone but my stepfather, I had been borrowing her
clothes and dressing. (Note if you have not read the other story I would
suggest now is a good time to do so as it will fill in a number of blanks).

Before he could answer I was well on my way to the door. I knew if I waited for
an answer it would be an embarrassed NO, when all along he meant YES.

Disappearing for a few minutes I returned with a cream underwired bra, matching
knickers and a pair of tan stockings.

"Here, what do you think," I said throwing the bra and knickers at him.

As Stephen started to finger the material I took one of the stockings and,
balling it up as if to put it on, I ran it over my arm, my hand inside the
foot.

"Feel this," offering him my hand.

As I was almost in his face he didn't have to reach far. His hand ran over mine
to feel the fabric, brushing it softly. I offered him the other stocking.

"Here, you do this."

He pushed his hand into the stocking as if reaching into a bag.

"No, stop, not like that," I barked. "Roll it in your hand." Throwing my
stocking off my hand and arm I showed him how. "Take the top and work it with
your fingers, you'll see the fabric scrunch up. Then run you hand in the foot
part only and then pull the stocking over your arm"

He did as instructed. There was no need for him to speak; the look on his face
said it all. This was a new experience and it was not unpleasant.

"Off course, you don't put them on your hand," I said softly, "They go on your
legs". I pointed towards his lower body. "What do you reckon?"

Looking at me very quizzically, "Eeerr," he said.

"There on your legs, what do you think?"

At this point my pulses were starting to race. I had maneuvered the
conversation without deliberately meaning to do so. The next ten seconds would
be a pivotal point in our friendship.

"Bloody hell," he shouted. "I'm not queer!"

"No, neither am I," I replied, he didn't know though that I previously had sex
when cross-dressed.

"You can if you want," he gently said.

I probed a bit more before I committed myself and risked the ridicule of a good
mate.

"Yes? You sure," I questioned. At this point my cock was beginning to stir
within my trousers. "I don't mind. Do you want the bra and knickers too?"

I wanted for a reply. He started to stammer a response but I was ahead of him.

"Okay, I'm game, if you are." I started to pull off my Jumper (sweater) and
shirt in one movement.

Grabbing the bra I put it on as I now always did, fastening it at the front and
spinning it around. It suddenly dawned on me that it seemed a bit too practiced
but either he missed the point or chose to keep quiet. The bra in place, I
adjusted the straps so that the cups fit snugly over my nipples. Unbuttoning my
jeans and pulling down the zip I removed them and my own undies in one
movement. Standing in my mother's bra and my own socks I picked up the knickers
and pulled them on. At this point I pulled off my socks and sat on the bed. My
feet were a little damp and the first stocking didn't run smoothly over my
foot. I watched Stephen as I pulled it up my leg. His eyes were not on me but
on the stocking. I teased him a little as it slowly crept past my knee and
thigh. In place, I picked up the second. This went on very smoothly and it felt
good. I bent forward as the second stocking went on, as I could feel the fabric
of my mother's knickers were not designed for my twitching cock.

Shooting my legs out, "What do you think?" I asked. The stockings creased at
the knees, as I wasn't wearing a suspender belt to keep them in place. Feeling
more relaxed around the groin; I stood up showing my attire in all its glory.
He stayed motionless and speechless.

"Say something then," I demanded. "I feel a right nit in these." I didn't, but
I did need some approval, otherwise they would be off and the whole thing would
be laughed off, I hoped!

"Mmmm, yes, okay" he eventually offered.

"What do you mean mmmm, yes, okay? Seen enough?"

Quickly raising his hand, palm facing me, "No, that's okay," he added.

"What it really needs is a suspender belt, to keep them from creasing. And
shoes. What do you think?" I asked.

"Yes, I think your right," was the reply.

"Come on then," I said as I turning to the door, "follow me"

Walking with a rather uncomfortable gate, trying to prevent my stockings ending
up around my ankles we moved into my parent's bedroom.

"Here. I know where she keeps her stuff."

As I was speaking I moved over the dressing table and opened the second drawer.
I had chosen well. Immediately, a lace covered suspender belt came to hand; in
cream. Not part of the matching set, but very close. Fastening the clasp at the
front I spun it around and slipped the fasteners under my knickers. Bending one
knee the first clips were fastened onto the stockings, the right leg front,
right leg back, left leg front, left leg back. One final pull to straighten
them. Without waiting for a response, digging in the bottom of the wardrobe I
pulled out a pair of black sandals I had worn before. They had with three
straps over the front of the instep, connected by a silver clasp. The toe and
heel being open, a slender stiletto 3 3/4" inches heel. Quickly fastening them
I stood upright in front of him.

"There, what do you think?" I asked him. His mouth slightly open.

"You done this before?" was the reply.

"NO," I said quickly, not wanting to seem that made a habit of it. "I'll take
them off."

"Not just yet," he heard himself saying, no doubt shocking himself in the
process.

"Be back in a minute."

I left the room and went into my sister's bedroom. My fire was up and I was
looking for her skirts. In her wardrobe I found a black and gray skirt, very
short minis. I had worn her skirts before so knew they would fit me. Back in my
parent's bedroom I asked him, "Which do you think?" holding birth skirts to
him, "Black or gray"?

"Black," he replied.

With that I undid the bottom and zipper and slipped the skirt over my stocking
covered legs. Fastening at the front and spinning it around. I stood once again
in front of him.

"Nearly finished," I said. Back in the wardrobe I discovered a white satin
blouse. Offering the blouse to him, "Feel this" which he did. "It needs some
make-up, don't you think?" Stephen grunted an approval, I'm not sure he knew
what was going on, everything so fast. He certainly had no control, I did.

Sitting down at the same dressing table that produced the stockings and other
underwear I could see Stephen in the mirror. I crossed my legs and felt the
fabric rub against itself, I felt as horny as fuck.

"Now, lets see, how does this work?" I questioned, knowing full well. "First,
foundation." Picking up the bottle I deposited some on to a handy cotton wool
ball. Applying to my face, "What's next?" I asked him, wanting to keep
conversation going and involve him in the process.

"Powder," he replied, "then blusher, and your eyes."

So far so good. Having applied make-up a number of times I knew the routine,
and was getting quite fast. It always amazed me that neither my sisters nor
mother realized their make-up had been tampered with. Then followed mascara and
finally lipstick. Taking the blouse off him, which he had fingered all through
the process, I put it on. Unbuttoning the skirt first to make it easier to
straighten.

"Just one last thing," I said, going back to the wardrobe. I pulled out a
polystyrene mannequin head that was wearing a brunette wig. "Last thing."
Taking the wig I put it on, grabbing the front and throwing it over my head. It
wasn't fastened to my own hair but stayed in place. A quiet brush to make the
final appearance look presentable. A tug of my skirt and straightening of my
blouse and I was ready for him.

"There, that's the lot," and waited for an answer.

It was just as well I was wearing a skirt, as my raging hard on couldn't have
been contained in the flimsy knickers.

He looked astonished. All thoughts of the football match banished from both our
minds.

"You, you look a lot like your sister," he meekly offered, "a lot like your
sister"

"Is that good?" I knew he fancied her. "Her hair is shorter though," I
suggested, "She doesn't wear this sort of shoe," looking at my feet.

"No, but all the same..." he stopped. I could see he was bent forward, his
hands in his lap.

"Okay, I'll take it off," I started to say.

"Just a while," he stood up; the cat was out of the bag. He too had a raging
hard on. Hoping I hadn't seen he sat down again. Too late, but I said nothing.
Moving towards him, I pushed on knees between his closed legs.

"Open up," I said. He did as commanded. "Give me your hands." Taking his hands
I put them on my butt-cheeks. Keeping hold so that he couldn't pull them away.

"What do you feel"? I asked.

"Suspender strap," he replied.

I moved my hands in small circling movements, his hands under mine mimicking
the movement. Gently I released my hands and he continued to rub my bum. As he
rubbed in bigger circles my skirt started to rise up, exposing my stocking
tops. Looking into his lap I would see his hard cock inside his trousers.

"Imagine I'm my sister," I whispered. His hands found their way under my skirt
and onto my bottom. My own cock was screaming for relief, I so wanted to pull
up the front of my skirt and push my cock deep into his throat, which was about
level with my waist. Instead I bent forward and gently kissed his lips.

"Taste the lipstick," I whispered. And with that he ran his tongue over his
lips. His hands were now rubbing the back of my thighs, rubbing my stockings. I
kissed him again, and our lips parted. Moving one leg forward to take the
change of position, I let go of his arms as passed my hands to his side, down
his side to his thighs. My right hand reaching its goal. The bulge in his
trousers. I heard a gasp but we continued kissing. My hand now squeezing his
cock and balls.

There was no resistance as I unzipped his trousers and pushed my hand inside,
rubbing and squeezing his very hard cock. All or nothing I recall thinking and
unbuttoned. We continued to kiss and by now he had moved his hand around the
front cupping my balls. It was my turn to let out a gasp.

Breaking our kiss I dropped down his body and on to one leg, then the second.
Unable to reach my balls his hand slipped and moved back to my bum. I could
feel the cool draft as he pulled up my skirt from the back exposing my knickers
and ass. With both hands I pulled his underpants to one side to reveal his
erect 5" cock. He was really hot and horny as I took hold of it in my right
hand, slowly wanking him. The foreskin came over the head to reveal creamy
white precum, which I licked. The salty taste was not unexpected. Reaching down
over the length of his erection I tried to deposit a lipstick ring around the
base of his shaft, but not to be, we had kissed off my lipstick, and at this
point I wasn't going to reapply it. Stephen was feverishly rubbing my bum. My
lips circled over his cock head. The effect made him groan. Slowly my head
bobbed up and down on him. After only moments he started to tense. His stomach
pushed out against my forehead so I raised my hand and pushed him in the
stomach. He let out a number of moans and groans. Then after less than a dozen
sucks he exploded into my mouth. I gripped his cock as hard as I could with my
lips; none of this was going to get away, swallowing as quickly as the final
spurts shot for his cock. Then we were still; my mouth still over his cock.
Slowly I released him to see a bead of saliva and cum span the gap between his
cock head and my lips.

"Ooohh my god," I recall him saying. It was the first time he had been sucked.
And then surprisingly he took hold my face with both hands and pecked me on the
lips. He was clearly still engulfed in the emotion.

Returning to my feet my stockings were wrinkled around my knees. I straightened
them before sitting on the dressing table stool. We were both smiling.

Comments and observations please to Tonitvuk@aol.com

This story is part of White_Shadow's_Nasty_Stories.
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