SILKEN SKIN – Pantyhose Story
By {Anonymous Slave}
She bends over to adjust the tiny white bow on her black pumps, folding her body nearly in half. I drag my eyes over her perfect heart-shaped ass in her tight black dress, and down past the hem to her thighs. They’re encased in translucent mocha hose tonight, a deep rich brown that allows her natural creamy skin tone to show through. They have a dark hemline that runs tantalizingly down the back of her legs, showcasing the perfect shape of her thighs and calves.
I admire the dip of the back of her knee, and the tight lean muscle of her calf, standing at attention with the lift of the impossibly high-heeled shoe below. The hemline of the pantyhose plunges down into the heel of the shoe, curving delicately along the arch of her Achilles, and I want to run my tongue along with it.
I lick my lips, trying to ignore the tightness of my jeans as she straightens back up and crosses to the mirror. She leans close to it to dab at her foundation and inspects her makeup, and bends one of her legs at the knee for balance. It’s as if she’s offering her foot right to me, and I sink to the floor almost involuntarily.
I crawl across the rough carpet and gently take her ankle in my hand, and she glances down at me with a giggle. She turns back to the mirror to continue painting her face and I take that as an invitation to keep doing what I’m doing. I slide the shiny black pump from her perfect foot, revealing the gentle slope of her heel, accentuated by the hemline of her hose.
The fabric doesn’t cling to her arch, leaving a pocket of air that I squeeze with my hand. I dig my thumbs into her flesh, massaging the nylon with my strong fingers. She moans a little, and I grin wickedly at the thought that she might fuck up her makeup because of my ministrations.
I have watched many a gorgeous girl from my bedroom when I am on my Pc and been able to interact with them but this was something else, this was entirely something different from the usual pantyhose fetish cams I had watched in the past
I oblige my desire to run my tongue up her Achilles heel, feeling the flawless ridge of the hemline under my tongue. I turn my head sideways and suckle at the little rolls of flesh, enjoying the slip and slide of nylon against my hot wet mouth. She tastes like lavender and wine with a slightly sweet tang of sweat, that earthy musk of fabric intermingled throughout.
I breathe sharply in through my nose, these are brand new hoses right out of the package, and their department store scent permeates my nostrils like a cloud. It overpowers her natural scent but that’s okay, sometimes she likes to do this to me, wear new nylons like a suit of armor. Little does she know that the scent of them drives me just as wild, and I nibble at her heel on my journey down her foot.
The sole of her foot is freshly buffed and smooth, sliding back and forth under the silky fabric wrapped around it. I work my fingers forward so that I’m massaging the underside of her toes, kissing a trail along the outer curve of her perfect foot. The coffee colour of the knit fabric shifts so beautifully over her skin, an iridescent dance of dark vs light that beckons to me.
My tongue darts out again and I moan involuntarily, feeling heady at the thickly reinforced toe beneath my fingers, the smooth skin against silky fabric beneath my tongue. I pull my head back as I reach the ball of her foot, and bend her leg more so that I can inspect her toes from the front.
Her cherry red painted nails peek out through the reinforced toe of the nylons, teasing me with a twisted game of hiding and seek. I stretch the fabric over her perfect toes, admiring the bright colour, the colour of sex, and debauchery. I let the reinforced toe slide back into place and wrap my lips around her entire big toe, grinding the fabric between my teeth.
She squeaks in surprise as I do this, and tries to twist her leg away. She says something about how she’s going to be late, and I’d better not get her hose too wet, and I chuckle. These toes are going to be fucking soaked and she’s going to be thinking about me while she’s out with her hens. I know the only reason she dresses up like this to hang out with her girlfriends is that she knows I’m going to be gagging for her the entire time she’s gone.
I grip her ankle tightly as I suck hard on her toes, swirling my tongue around to moisten the fabric encasing my precious gems. She protests but she’s giggling. She could just change them before she left if she really didn’t want to wear them, but I know it gets her off too. Her little pussy will be as wet as her toes all night, a reminder of what I’ve done and what I’m going to do later.
I finally release her toes with a loud pop, and slowly slip her shiny black pump back on her foot. I lower her leg so she is standing on both feet, and run my hands up and down both legs, thumbs tracing the hemline with heat in my gaze.
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On one upswing, I brush my thumb against the crotch of the pantyhose and find them moist, and a sly smile plays my lips. If she’s damp all the way to the nylon then that means that she isn’t wearing any panties underneath. I gently lift her skirt, revealing the bare globes of her beautiful ass cheeks encased in the control top of the hose.
The delicious cleft is squeezed like cleavage in a push-up bra, and I grasp a cheek in each hand, squeezing, sliding the mocha fabric beneath my hands.
She smacks my hands away and I fall back onto my ass, watching with amusement as she puts her outfit to rights and turns to me. She plants a chaste kiss on my lips to avoid smearing her lipstick, grabs her purse, and sashays out the door.
I stare after her for a time, my head swimming with need and the emptiness that is always clouding me every time she leaves me like this. The front door latches and I hear her car roar to life, and as the engine fades into the distance I know that I’m not going to make it waiting for her tonight.
I turn to the laundry hamper, the one for her delicates, and her favourite pair is sitting on top, the light taupe with a satiny sheen. The slippery fabric beckons to me, and I gingerly lift them up, running them back and forth under my nose like an expensive cigar. It smells of her familiar lavender moisturizer, but these ones she wore to work, so the natural tang of her skin permeates the nylon beautifully.
I take them with me to the bed and lay them out, the feet hanging off of the edge of the comforter, dangling delicately. I shimmy out of my jeans and boxers, my cock springing free. It stands straight out, so ready for what is coming.
I sit down on the bed and slide my arm inside one of the pantyhose legs, all the way to the reinforced toe. I bunch it down my arm, slowly, languidly, revelling in the softness against my skin. This reminds me of my Mistress when visiting the Mistress cams section and watching her rub her hands all over their gorgeous nylon legs
Once it’s off of my arm, I lower the bunched fabric to my foot and slide it inside, and it’s as satisfying as a warm glove on a cold day. My leg feels embraced, cosy, worshipped as I pull the nylon up over my knee, leaving it there just at my lower thigh. I slip my arm into the other side, repeating the process for my other leg.
Then I stand, and grasp the fabric taut, knowing that if I want the crotch to sit where I want it that I have to keep it tight. I shimmy it up both thighs and gasp at the feel of the silky softness cupping my balls like a woman’s hand. The control top encases my cock in satin warmth and I stand there for a moment, shifting back and forth on my legs, revelling in the sensuality of this moment.
I start to roll my hips gently, the nylon slipping across my dick in a tantalizing caress. I strut over to the full-length mirror on the wall, standing with my legs a foot apart in a power stance, enjoying the look of my rod straining against the thin fabric. I wrap my hand around it, groaning at the softness around the sensitive skin of my head.
My thrusts begin slow and shallow, but soon my head is thrown back, and I’m bucking wildly against my nylon cave. My balls tighten and my knees go weak, muscles clenching deep inside me as I blow my load into the fabric.
I collapse back onto the bed, legs feeling like they’re made of jelly, cradled in the tight silken delight of my girlfriend’s pantyhose.
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