STOCKING STORIES!

Do you have a special stocking related story or stocking fantasy that you would like to share with everyone?? How about some stocking poetry? If you have something to contribute, this is where I will post it for everyone to enjoy. The only restrictions are no swearing and no explicit sex acts. Every story that gets posted will earn the writer a free photo set of their choice up to $20!! So get your creative juices going and let's see what you can come up with!! Email it to me and I will post it ASAP.

My Stocking Fantasy by Dennis


This story begins with myself making my way through the airport terminal having just gotten through security. I walked to the waiting area adjacent to where my flight was to board. I was somewhat early for my flight so this part of the terminal was relatively empty. I absentmindedly took a seat and prepared to wait for my flight to be called. I glanced to my left-only to be taken in by a vision that pretty much made my jaw hit the floor. Seated 3 seats down was the most stunningly beautiful woman I had laid eyes on in a long while. She had long cascading blonde hair that swept down past her shoulders and was wearing a silk blouse with a skirt not quite to her knees. This is where the best part comes in. She was wearing grayish colored hose and delicate high stiletto heels to boot. Desperately trying not to be obvious (but then hey guys-the ladies always know when we are looking –right!!) I stole several glances to my left just to drink in this vision of sublime beauty. Just to top things off-she was lightly tapping away on a laptop perched on her knees-which forced her to arch her legs just a little bit-to keep it balanced correctly. This gave me a view of her very exquisite long legs which helped me pass the time very pleasantly with erotic fantasies running through my head. One fantasy was not to be though-the announcer called her flight (unfortunately not mine) and she got up and walked pass me to the boarding gate-with the gentle swish of her skirt barely audible above the click –clack of her high heels as she walked in front of me to board her flight. This meant that my fantasy of possibly sitting next to her on the plane was instantly dashed-but perhaps it is better this way- siiiiigh!!!!. Needless to say once I boarded my own flight -I had many wonderful fantasies to while away my time on a rather uneventful flight home-perhaps this was the way things were meant to be!!!!! I think of her still-and am thankful for the vision of beauty that she brought into my life that day-and many more since!!!!!!

My Favorite Dream by Don

I wrote a sexy story and sent it to Mercedes at “Mercedes slips”. In a few days I received a Wonderful surprise…I had won the contest for best story. I was told that I had won some photos and I told Mercedes what I wanted. I asked for anything with her in a Black Slip and Nylons. WOW! I received the most Fantastic photos. The download was an instant erection. I watched them over and over. Her beautiful legs were etched into my mind and when I went to bed I was still seeing them in my mind. I fell asleep and……………………….

I am driving thru the state of Minnesota and top a hill when I see a Mercedes sport coupe on the shoulder with the hood up. I pull in behind it and the personalized tag is “MERCDES 1”. I immediately make the connection with the beautiful web model.

I get out of the camper and walk to the front of the car. There stands a beautiful woman in a Black slip and FF nylons. She has on stiletto sandals with diamond ankle straps. Her breasts are spilling out of the tight slip. The slip itself appears to be one or two sizes too small and it really hug her trim body. I can hardly talk but I ask, “What’s the matter?”

She replied, “I don’t know, it just quit”. I ask if I can take a look at it and she said, ”I think you already have. You seem to have looked at everything already”. I guess I was blushing because she told me “Its O.K. I like for men to look at me”.

The alternator belt had come off and the battery was dead. I informed her that there was little that I could do for her. She smiled and said, “I doubt that”. I just smiled and asked her how far it is to the next repair shop? She said 10 miles but she could call for someone to come, if she had a phone. I informed her that I had a cell phone in the motor home. She turned and started for the door. I opened it and invited her to come in.

I have Prevost 45’ Class A motor home. It has all of the Bells and whistles and she was impressed with it and commented that it would be a good place to make love. I guess the mirrored ceiling brought that on. I told her that I was alone and that masturbation was not my idea of a good time. Again she smiled and walked into the rear bedroom and sat on the bed. She bounced a few times and giggled. The tight slip had risen up and I could see her black thong. Her legs were beautiful and she knew the poses that made a man respond.

I asked her if she wanted to make the call for help and she replied “Not just yet”. I surely wasn’t going to push it. I asked if I could make her a drink and she said Surely, All this and a bar too?” “I said Yep! What’s your pleasure?” “Bushmills on the rocks”. I said O.K.” She replied “Really? No one drinks Bushmills but me”. I said “And me”.

It was hot outside and the A/C was working hard to keep it cool. I asked if she was cool enough and she said “ Not really, all this is making me really HOT”.

I tried to change the subject but all that I could come up with was
“ Are you the web’s most beautiful slip model - Mercedes? “You know of me?” She said. “Oh yes”. I walked to the TV and put a cd into the changer. It came to life and so did I. I had that feeling that I get every time I look at them.

Mercedes smiled and said, ”I’ll be darned”. I cannot believe this.

We watched a while and then a pickup pulled up behind and blew their horn. Mercedes looked out and said “Its Tom, My husband.

That ruined a perfectly good dream. The horn was really my alarm going off telling me that its time to get up. Little did it know “I WAS ALREADY UP!”

I hope that this is one of those dreams that continues.

I had been driving for about 5 hours and it was nearing dinner time so I pulled off I-40 and started looking for someplace to eat. I spotted a “Logans Roadhouse”. The lot was pretty much empty so I figured to get in and out pretty fast.

I went inside and was seated. Lisa was the server and she took my order and went on with her chores of getting ready for the dinner rush.

Every time that she walked by, she smiled and I smiled back. I really liked the way she moved. She had the walk of a 50s movie actress. Her ass moved as if she were dancing. She had on tight Levis and a form fitting T-shirt. She was very trim at about 100 lbs. She stood about 5’2”.

I finished my steak and when she brought the check to me she said ” I have noticed that you liked to look at me while I work. It would be nice if you bought me a drink. I get off in 10 minutes”. Of course I said, ” Yes, I would love to”. I had another cup of coffee and waited. Lisa came to the table and asked what I was driving? She told me to go to the car and she would be out shortly. When she got into the car I noticed that she had changed clothing. She was wearing a tight dark blue “Slip dress”. As she goes into the seat next to me she let it ride up showing Black FF nylon stockings. It had been a long time ago that I was in the company of a beautiful young woman in nylons and high heels.

I asked her where to go to have that drink and she told me that she lived a few blocks away and that she had a pretty well stocked bar.

When we go to her apartment she told me to make myself comfortable while she took a shower and made herself more presentable. I couldn’t how that could be possible, but I did as I was told. I found some Bushmills Irish, ice and a tall Glass and mixed myself a drink. I yelled to Lori “Can I fix you something?” She replied “Not just now. Later”.

I turned on some soft music and lit a few candles. I turned the lights down and made myself comfortable. I was tired from the ling drive but I stayed alert, as I had no idea what was to happen next.

I had “Mellowed out” when Lori came into the room. She was absolutely beautiful. She was wearing a sheer black slip, a black satin garter belt and black FF nylons. She had on black sandals with 6”heels.

She said, ”You like?” I could barely talk but I said, “I think that I have died and gone to Heaven”. She smiled and asks, ”If that offer of a drink was still open?” I replied, “You bet”.

I fixed her drink and we sat on the couch and relaxed for a few minutes. We made small talk for a while then she slid next to me and asked “if I liked the was she dressed?” I told her that she is the most beautiful woman that I have ever seen and that I had a Fetish for Slips, Nylons and High heels and that Black is my favorite color. She leaned over and gave me a hot kiss.

I put my arms around her and we kissed for a while and then she stood up and took my hand a led me to the bedroom.

Music was piped throughout the house and again the bedroom was lit only by candlelight. I don’t have words to tell you what it felt like to be with this beautiful, sensual creature.

Lori took me into her closet and showed me the many nylon slips, slip dresses and high heel shoes. She had every color and every style. She said, “They are Old fashioned now and no one wears them”. She told me that the young boys that she has met have no interest in these clothes. We talked about the way it used to be when women dressed to please the men in their lives. I told her that it is strange that we met and those we both have the same taste in clothes.

We went back into the bedroom and lie on the bed. We kissed and made love. She is like a cat in bed. Her moves are so sensual. Lori knows exactly what do and how to do it. She is the Best .

I love the feel of a nylon slip when it rubs on FF nylons. I love the way a woman’s foot looks in black nylons and sandal high heels.
Lori is really a generation out of step and I guess I am also. She said she is 22 and I am 69.

I love to look at the photos of Mercedes and I think Lori and Mercedes with their collection of erotic lingerie ever teamed up for a photo shoot – It would be too hot for the internet to handle.

We see each other every other week and sometimes sooner if I get nostalgic and want to return to 1945. That’s when my Fetish for these things began……
 

Tom

TRUE STOCKING LOVERS REFRAIN

NIGHT OUT by Anonymous in NC

As we neared the restaurant, I was able to find a parking space entrance. As I shut off the engine my wife said, “You know a gentleman would open the door for a lady.” 

In my usual comedic way, I responded by looking around and said, “Don’t see one around. Guess I’ll have to do.” 

I walked around and opened the passenger door. I looked down and got a nice surprise. Usually, my wife wears pantyhose; always nice and sheer, but always pantyhose. But as she pulled her dress up a bit and I could see the tops of stockings and a reflection of a metal garter fastened securely. She looked up at me, grinned and held up her hand. I took her hand to help her out of the car. As she got up out of the car, she made an exaggerated motion that caused her dress skirt to rise up and show more of her bare thigh.

We entered the restaurant. It has cozy booths and candle lit tables. I gave the hostess my name which she found on the reservation list. She led us to a booth off in a corner of the restaurant. We slid into the seat side by side as the hostess handed us menus and a wine list. Our server (well, in my opinion, waitress) took our wine and appetizer order. 

As we sat, I asked, “So, why the stockings? You a bit frisky?”

“Could be,” she replied. “I never really was into wearing stockings. They always seemed like such a bother. But when I was shopping for lingerie, I picked up a garter belt and thought, why not. The clerk helped me pick out the stockings. Did you notice they are seamed?”

Her revealing these facts sent a rush of blood to my crotch. I must have stammered my answer that I hadn’t noticed because she giggled. 

“Here, let me show you,” she said. She then took my hand and lowered it to the seat. She raised her leg up slightly so that she could put my hand under her leg. 

“Feel it?”, she asked. As I gently rubbed my hand under her leg, I could feel the tell-tale bump of the seam.

“So, what do you think? Like them?”, she asked.

In a kidding manner raised my hand and whispered, “Check please.”

“Not so fast, tiger,” she giggled. “You don’t think you can have your way with me that easily?”

She moved my hand from under her leg to the top and slid it slightly inside of her leg. “You can play with my leg a bit if you’d like.”

I gently caressed her nylon clad leg with my fingers. I moved them up and down her thigh, teasing the bare skin above the tops of the stocking. Occasionally I would slip a finger under the stocking and garter feeling the warmth of her leg. I looked around and saw that even though the restaurant was crowded, we were secluded and out of sight of most of the others. I daringly slid my hand further up her leg approaching her crotch. Just before my hand brushed against her panties, she clamped her legs together. 

She gently pulled my hand up and whispered, “Tsk, tsk. A bit bold aren’t we. Think you can get your way with me that easily?”

About that time the waitress brought our wine and served it. She took our order and left us alone.

“So, do you like the idea of me wearing stockings?”, she asked.

“Well, I think a woman in daring lingerie is a sexy sight. And you know what a leg man I am.”

“That’s true”, she said in agreement.

I tried to get my hand back onto her legs but every time I tried it seem our server came by to refill drinks or ask if everything was all right. So, I gave up thinking that later on at home I would not be interrupted. 

We finished eating and paid for our meal. As e headed for the car, I took the opportunity to watch as my wife walked in front of me. The seam of her stocking ran straight up the middle of her leg. The nylon hugged her shapely legs. The curve of her leg was accented because of the high heeled shoe she wore. 

Hoping that I would get another little show, I opened the passenger door for her. Just before she got in she said, “Unhook and unzip my dress.”

I didn’t need to be told twice. While I wasn’t sure what to expect, I did as she asked. As the back of the dress opened into a V, I saw her bra strap and noticed it didn’t have any hooks. I thought to myself, “So, wearing a hook in front job, eh… all right.” 

As I hoped, she took her time getting settled into her seat. She pulled her dress up and again showed me her nylon clad legs which abruptly ended in the tops of stockings. She made it a point of adjusting a garter, pulling it tight. The stocking moved slightly up her leg as she did so. She tugged on the strap a bit more. The metal clasp glinted and flashed.

I closed her door and almost ran around to my side of the car. I got in started up and pulled out into traffic. 

“Drive around the Beltway”, she said. “No need to be in a hurry to get home.”

I headed to the Beltway. In the evening, traffic on the Beltway was never heavy. I guessed she had something in mind and it didn’t take long for me to find out what that something was. As we drove, she leaned her seat back. She didn’t go quite all the way back, but far enough that her body was below the edge of the window.

She grinned at me. “I’ll have to admit. These stockings do make me feel sexy. The material is so smooth.” She placed her foot on dashboard and ran her hands along her leg. As her hands slid up her leg, she pushed the hem of her skirt up. This action exposed the tops of the stockings on both of her legs. She then grabbed the top of a stocking and pulled it up tighter. She repeated that action with the other leg. “I would have thought the garter belt to be uncomfortable, but it’s not. It fits just right..” She twisted her leg a bit and ran her finger delicately up and down the seam. “It took a bit to get the seam straight. But once I got it straight and pulled the garter tight, it stays in place pretty well. What do you think?”

I was glad that traffic was lighter than usual. I set the cruise control so that I could didn’t have to worry about my speed. All I had to do was keep one eye on the road so to speak. Of course, sometimes both eyes were on my wife. 

She continued her teasing. “I did find this very sexy bra. Would you like to see it?” 

I nodded my head. She reached up and turned the dome light on. Then, she took her hands and slowly pulled the top of her dress down off her shoulder.. As she did, black straps appeared. She inched her dress down further revealing her black bra.

In the glow of the dome light I could see that it was very sheer. It was obvious that the bra had an under wire that lifted her breasts. Her nipples were pressing the material, stretching it slightly. I could see her nipples through the sheer nylon material. 

She smiled seductively. “Of course I couldn’t just get a bra,” she said. She continued to slide her dress down. She raised her rear slightly so the dress could slide under her. She guided the dress down her legs and took it completely off. “See, the panties match.”

Sure, enough, the panties were of the same see through material as the bra. They were a very sexy brief that was cut high on the leg. She ran her fingers along the edges of the panty. The elastic of the legs and the waist crossed over the garter belt straps. My wife slid her fingers under the elastic pulling from her skin a bit. She continued her teasing and talking. “They say that good girls wear the garters over their panties; girls that are good where their panties over the garters. I think I’m a girl that’s good, don’t you?”

Glancing at her, I grinned and nodded. “Actually, you’re fantastic.”

“And, I’m quite horny, too. Take me home, or lose me forever.”

With that I headed for home. But my wife continued her tease. She told me how the nylons will feel as she rubbed them all over my body and how hot it would be when she clamped her legs around me and moved her nylon-covered, smooth legs up and down my legs and butt.

You know, she was right.

Crunch Time, Again

By Johnny Yuma

When school let out in June of 1967, turmoil besieged the world. Everything in my life was upside down. Hundreds of Americans were sent home in body bags every week from Nam .  Riots erupted on college campuses across the country.  Racial tensions boiled.  Women burning their bras made the television news. Electric music pushed my favorite Motown R & B tunes aside. In a few short months, dramatic change got on America like white on rice.

My personal world had turned inside out that spring.  I experienced my first auto accident, my best friend’s brother was killed in Nam , I watched my father experience a heart attack, and I was dealt the pain of losing my first love. 

My girlfriend of 18 months gotten drunk at a fraternity party the first weekend of March and she had sex with a college guy.  To make matters worse, her best friend had become a close friend.  My second-closest friend was angered with me because I “didn’t understand”.

An attractive teacher at my high school complicated everything by coming on to me.  Everything I had learned about values was coming undone. I already was loaded with guilt by my religious upbringing for falling into a physical relationship with a girl I loved.  The 23-year-old teacher wanted nothing from me but sex.  I didn’t have a clue what to do about the teacher, but my raging hormones challenged my values. 

Friends that had gone away to college came home that summer smoking dope. My old Little League buddies talked me into smoking pot twice. I didn't catch the high they talked about.  I was afraid I'd become an addict, and marijuana burned my lungs when I inhaled it.  I worried, too, about embarrassing my family if I got caught with drugs. 

Pop spent four weeks in the hospital after his heart attack.  He got in line to have his chest cut open for new triple by-pass surgery by a famous heart doctor.  Dad was 38 when he and Mom got married.  He was 40 when I was born, and he took me everywhere he went.  We were close, but he ruled our house firmly.

Dad liked sports. We didn’t own a car until I was ten. He and I often walked to high school football, basketball games, and baseball games.  Twice we walked to the town across the river to see a small college basketball game.  Once we rode a bus to Pittsburgh to see the Pirates play. 

Pop never showed me his sport – boxing. He had boxed 11 times professionally – winning his first ten fights. The guy that beat Dad in his 11th fight, Teddy Yoraz, won the Middleweight Championship of the World. Dad gave me his insight into life.  Dad was relentless in proving himself at whatever he did – partly because he had lost an arm in an auto accident.

Until his heart attack, he hadn’t taken a sick day since he started his job in 1950. He competed with co-workers on every task at work. Dad didn’t stop until he had done “more” than the guy working next to him. Pop was the proverbial underdog that relentlessly pursued approval.      

My heart ached for Brenda, my old girlfriend. Chemistry between us connected when I was in 10th grade. Within four months, our hormone-driven passions got the best of us.  I fell in love with her.  When she betrayed “our” loyalty to each other, my view of life and the future changed. 

Our families attended the same church and socialized together. We became friends in elementary school.  The time we spent together at school, our shared religious beliefs, and our mutual passion for sports made it seem to us that God brought us together.  Brenda played volleyball and ran track.  She liked going to my basketball and baseball games.  I liked watching her volleyball games because of the short uniforms they wore.

Brenda was five feet nine inches tall. She looked like Marsha Brady.  Her legs were long, lean, and shapely. She styled her long hair straight like lots of other girls in 1967. Every guy in my class envied my relationship with Brenda.  Lot ’s of guys had girlfriends.  No guy I knew had a girlfriend that enjoyed sports, went to the same church, and was accepted by his parents.

Installment II

My friends called me “Opie”.  My goofy “aw shucks” personality and my red hair resembled “Opie” on Andy Griffith’s, Mayberry USA TV show.  My Irish heritage had cursed me with fair skin, reddish hair, and a face with a few freckles that brought out the resemblance to “Opie Taylor”.  I know my looks never buckled a female’s knees.

Nobody knew what Brenda had done at the frat party but, Brenda, Bettie, Bettie’s brother, and me.  I told my mother and father that Brenda said she need “more space”.  Mom and Dad took that to mean Brenda tired of me.  Mom made me hot chocolate – her antidote for all sad times when I was a kid.  

All the turmoil in my life disappeared when I stepped on a baseball field. The baseball looked like a beach ball all summer. I hit over .500 and I slugged a homerun once every eight at bats.  I loved hoops, but I knew after my first varsity game my sophomore year that my basketball ceiling might be at a small college. 

I could hit, my arm caught half the runners that tried to steal, and I handled pitchers well.  Scouts talked to me after games and talked with Pop.  The Pittsburgh Pirates invited me to two tryouts after a scout watched me play a couple times. Going into the “Visitor’s” locker room at Forbes Field was the biggest deal of my life.  Baseball was going so well I was convinced I would get drafted the next spring by a MLB team.

Guys I played baseball with often ventured to Hank’s Frozen Custard on the Junction Stretch after games.  Hank’s had killer cold treats, leading-edge Mexican food we called “Tacos”, and was a place where guys and girls met.  My buddy, Chad Calaberia, introduced me to a girl he knew from Hopewell named Paula.   

Paula’s big brown eyes, long dark hair, and a very small waist accented her fall-in-love looks.  She stood barely five feet tall, and her petite frame gave her a fragile look. I was almost speechless by Paula’s beauty when we were introduced.  Chad had dated her older sister.  Paula seemed shy, but she spoke up when she learned I played sports. 

I worked for the local newspaper in a job that paid just minimum wage.  However, I often got free tickets to sporting and entertainment events.  I carried lead ingots to line-o-type machines late at night, but every once in a while I got to write obituaries just before deadlines.  I craved a “by-line” assignment as I had pulled an “A” in high school journalism.  Local restaurants hounded the editor to start a restaurant’s critic’s feature.  In search of “by line” opportunities in print, I pounded the editor he should let me write a once-a-week restaurant critique.  To prove my point, I’d offer him my personal feedback on restaurants the Pittsburgh papers had reviewed.

When I regained control of my speech after meeting Paula, I remembered I was holding two tickets a concert at the Civic Light Opera in Pittsburgh for three nights later.  I asked Paula if she’d like to go to dinner and the show. I convinced the editor to okay dinner at Poli’s, an out-of-my league restaurant in Pittsburgh ’s Squirrel Hill.

The whole evening was above me. I was afraid I mess up my first “by line”. When I picked Paula up and met her parents earlier that night, I was stunned. She wore a white linen suit with a straight skirt, and deep purple pumps. Paula wore a strand of pearls around her neck and she looked out of my league.  Paula was simply drop-dead gorgeous.    

At Poli's, I ordered for both of us.  I convinced Paula to try lobster. Watching her eat lobster lessened her intimidating drop-dead looks.  She asked me to open the tail for her, and crack the lobster’s claws.  That evening’s lobster was just the third time I’d enjoyed the treat, and helping Paula helped me feel sophisticated.

Paula mistook me for being cool.  When I revealed that we were eating free lobsters as the paper’s restaurant critics, Paula got more excited.  Unlike Brenda, Paula was really practical about money. Before I took her home, I drove into Pittsburgh ’s Schlenley Park , where we made out. Pittsburgh police were cool with kids making out in their cars, and drove around to run off “bushwhackers”.

Since Paula found me so sophisticated, I felt compelled to live up to the image. Within five minutes, my grouping had worked its way up Paula’s thigh. When I didn’t catch a garter clip, I kept going. Soon, I was exploring the area around “home plate”. I was clumsy and asked, “What’s that?”

Paula’s response was, “That’s a gusset. I’m wearing pantyhose. Pantyhose are the latest fashion phenom”. I had taken off my suit coat and loosened my tie. I made a decision I was going too fast, and would use the opportunity to ask Paula out for the weekend.

I asked her if she’d like to go out again before I proposed where we were going.  She said, “Yes” so fast I hadn’t proposed an activity. I asked her where she wanted to go. Paula said, “Let’s go to the drive in.  We can make out, watch the movie, and I’ll make popcorn at home to save money”.

When I picked Paula up she was wearing a yellow oxford blouse, and short straight madras skirt. Her blouse was tucked into the skirt and her breasts looked like they had grown an inch since we went out earlier in the week. I couldn’t figure out why she was going out with me for a second time.  Her mother reviewed the movie for us because her older sister had seen it the night before.

 
Soon after the movie started, Paula and I started making out. Brenda was the only girl I had experienced making out with for more than a party kiss. I kept expecting Paula to stop me as I caressed her breasts, and stroked her panty hosed legs. Paula’s reactions only fed my hormones.

Paula and her older sister came to watch me play baseball the next night.  On my first trip to the plate I hit a home run.  The next time up the pitcher drilled me in the ribs with his first pitch.  The guy hitting behind me lashed a single and I scampered to third base.  I tried to take home on a wild pitch.  The catcher made a quick throw to the pitcher covering and the ball got there 10 feet ahead of me.  I had no choice but to barrel into the pitcher.  The collision caused his hat to go one direction, the ball another, and his glove another. 

Paula told me she thought I was crazy for causing such a collision.  I made sure she understood my team needed the run.  Also, I told her I was getting my payback for the pitcher’s fastball in my ribs.  Her sister drove us to Hank’s after the game, and then drove me home.

On our fourth date, Paula and I succumbed to our passion at a drive-in movie.  Like most 17-year-olds, I carried protection. But, I had not expected to use it that night. As I started to take Paula’s blouse off, Paula told me she had never “done it” before.  She said she was afraid. I stopped, but Paula pulled me closer to her.

Paula’s blood-stained pantyhose were proof she was truthful with me about her prior experience. She had just turned 16 the prior month. I felt terrible. I barely knew her, I still carried a torch for Brenda, but I had touched a button in her that lit up passion I didn’t understand.

When I got home from church the next day, Paula called to ask me to her house for dinner with her family. Brenda’s mom had already asked my whole family to their house for desert after Sunday Night church. Paula’s invite let me slide out of going to Brenda’s house.

Even though I was still in love with Brenda, Paula could light my fire with her big brown eyes. I didn’t understand why Paula delighted in delighting me.

Installment III

The doctor told Dad the next day he couldn’t go back to work in the warehouse. This meant some serious belt tightening at home.  Mom got a job as a cook, and money Dad sat aside for my college was diverted to keep the family afloat.

After I returned from Eugene Curcci’s military funeral, Mom dropped the news on me about household finances. She led with the part about college. At dinner that night, Dad suggested I give up basketball and baseball.  He felt I should concentrate only on football. He said with my size and athleticism that some college coach might offer me a full scholarship.

Dad argued our area didn’t produce many basketball scholarships, while every one of the 16 high schools in the county produced three or four football scholarships every year.  We talked about me getting drafted to play baseball, but he quickly reminded me that only college students could defer military service.  He said, “Make your choice. Go to college next year or go to Vietnam next year”.

I told Dad about Norm Vanlier, Simmie Hill, Billy Zoph, Dick DeVinzio, Chad Calaberia, Butch Zatazelo, and other guys at the playground that got hoops scholarships. I shared with Pop that Dennis Wuychick and Mickey Davis thought they were going to get basketball scholarships. 

Pop and I compromised. I agreed to go out for football, but he’d have to let me play basketball and baseball. Dad knew I’d get stretched. He also knew he I would capitulate on anything he said.  I had never questioned Dad, and I wasn’t going to question him at the start of a crisis.

Brenda’s friends told her about Paula. My friends told her that no girl in our school had looks as good as Paula.  Her mother started asking me to join my parents for apple pie and ice cream after church on Sunday nights. I knew Brenda could wink and pull me back with temptation to kiss her thighs.  After I started to date Paula, Brenda made a point of playing with my emotions.

I really felt guilty about Paula.  Paula was in love with me, and I knew it. I wouldn’t tell her I loved her because I couldn’t lie to her verbally -- even though making love to her was a bigger lie.

I honored my promise to Brenda not call Brenda in July and August. Brenda was still mad at me for not forgiving her actions under the “spell” of alcohol.  She controlled me by telling me not to call her during the summer. 

My relationship with Paula fed my ego, but I had grown really depressed.  Dad was scared he was going to die on the operating table during his October bypass surgery. Mom was worried about Dad, and was tired every night from working eight hours as a cook at the YMCA. On top of all that, the football coach didn’t want me on his team because I hadn’t played football since grade school.

Paula called me every night before I headed to the paper for work.  She’d tell me she loved me. I felt moral pressure from my training to be honest with Paula, but I was overwhelmed by her physical charms.  The only fault I could find with Paula was the guilt I had about not feeling for her what she felt for me. 

Brenda’s mom cornered me after church Labor Day Sunday. She told me August was behind us, and it was okay to call Brenda. I told her my feelings for Brenda were still strong, but I was seeing another girl.  I gave her I was compelled to “do the honest thing” because she couldn’t refute what was taught at church.

Brenda’s mom told me my parents were going to her house after church that night.  She smiled “big” when she told me she was making apple pie just for me that afternoon.  I refused to commit. At lunch, Mom told me I was joining the family at Brenda’s house after church.  She had committed I would be there.

At church Sunday Night, I sat with a teammate from basketball and baseball in the last row of pews. When she finished singing with the choir, Brenda walked straight to my pew and asked me to move over so we could worship together like we used to.

Pastor Thomas preached about the evils of lust that night. All I could think of was that someone had spilled the details about Paula and me to him. Brenda sat on my left at the end of the pew. She crossed legs, and dangled her navy high-heeled pump on the end of her foot. As soon as she knew she had my attention she slid off her other high-heeled shoe, and caressed my lower right leg with her stocking-clad foot.

Pastor Thomas looked right at me at the exact moment Brenda raised a reaction from me. The very second after he turned away, he looked right back toward me and said, “The Bible says that man that looks upon a woman to lust after her has already committed adultery in his heart”.  Here I was sitting in Church on Sunday Night and I learned I was breaking one of the Ten Commandments just by thinking about sex.  By that logic, I was sinful at least half of every day.

Brenda wasn’t paying attention to Pastor Thomas’ sermon on lust.  Instead, she stoked my lust, and her lust.  I knew every word from his mouth was aimed at me.  Brenda slid over and positioned her left leg against me so our thighs and knees were directly touching. I could feel her garter against my thigh, and her silky stockings sliding against me set my body on fire.

When the pastor issued the invitation for sinners to seek forgiveness, I almost sprinted out of the pew to the front of the church to confess my sins. Brenda had grown adept at reading my thoughts when we were intimate. She whispered in my ear, “Don’t you dare. I don’t want my parents to think we’re doing it. Besides, you won’t really need forgiveness until later.”  The arrogance of her sureness angered me.

I ate two pieces of apple pie at Brenda’s house, and I ate them slowly. Brenda slid her shoes off as we entered her parents’ house, and made sure I saw the reinforced toes and heels of her tan stockings. As I slowly nibbled on the pie, she did her best to crumble my resistance by rubbing her foot up and down my calf.  She got her foot between my thighs, and her silky calf rubbed against my inner thigh.  Her toes rubbed my crotch.

Brenda had me so lathered up my zipper hardly contained the force of the bulge she worked up.  I couldn’t get up from the table because of the fear of embarrassment.  Brenda had tangible feedback of her impact on me that I couldn’t deny. 

Brenda’s knew Miss Daquilla flirted with me, but didn’t know I weakened when I helped Miss Daquilla move into her new apartment.  Brenda was so confident of my "puppy-dog love" for her that she could walk me on a leash. She owned that "Marsha Brady, I'm the fairest damsel in the land attitude."  Crushing my heart a few weeks earlier had fed her ego. 

I loved the determination I mustered to ignore Brenda’s seduction that night. The full-court press she had used with her mother and my mother had pissed me off. Neither of our mothers believed their little babies had been doing the dirty deed.  Brenda’s family doctor assured her mother of Brenda’s virginity status earlier in the year.  My father sensed what was going on, but he was unsure because I never used the condoms he had purchased.  All the little ladies in the church saw Brenda and me as a cute couple.  If the little ladies at church knew “Opie” was an almost insatiable “horn dog”, they surely would have disdained me. 

Installment IV

When I got up Labor Day morning, I had no idea what kind of day I was in for.  I encountered so many surprises that day, it became the longest day of my life.  It also was the most physically draining day I ever experienced.

Racial tensions erupted over the weekend in Aliquippa .  Several cars were overturned and burned. Two different white-black confrontations required police to break them up.  Few communities in the world were as diverse as Beaver County , Pennsylvania . Italians owned the most political clout, but Serbs, Croats, Poles, Krauts, Blacks and Irish Micks mixed with Jews and a few Protestants with ease.

The economic strata were 95 percent working class, with those neighbors that belonged to the United Steel Workers union representing what we called “rich”.

The racial tensions shook me. I didn’t know how it affected my friends from baseball, basketball and football. Italians, Serbs, Blacks, and German farmers had grown to be my close friends since first grade in my small town. I wondered if the race riots would change my comfortable world of relationships. 

School started the day after Labor Day each year.  Coach had scheduled two football practices. Guys on the team weren’t looking forward to the morning practice. After breaking camp on Friday, our scrimmage Saturday Night against Farrell revealed a lot of weaknesses in our team. Coach was red-faced, and cussing mad Saturday night.

I had to work in the lumber yard and didn’t get to go to summer camp. I didn’t get off the bench in Saturday night’s scrimmage. I looked forward to practice until I heard we nearly had race riots.  I wondered how my close friends that were Black would react to me.  Would they be angry?  Would they be tense?  Would our friendships change?  I wanted the status quo, but I wanted to protect the feelings of my friends, too.  While there was race bias in Beaver County , it differed little from other ethnic biases.

After sled drills, we broke into a scrimmage to work on the aspects of our game that broke down in Saturday. Our head coach took the varsity players, and sent the junior varsity with a young assistant, Don Yanessa. Yanni was two parts Howie Long, one part Barry Switzer, and one part, Ken Howard from the 70s sitcom, “White Shadow”. Girls in school moaned when "Yanni" walked by them in the halls. I got placed with the junior varsity, which I felt was an insult to an All-Conference basketball player.

The offense lined up on its 50 yard line, and had 10 plays to go in for a touchdown. Most of the varsity guys thought it would take them four or five plays to score on me and ten sophomores.

Yanni was in Coach’s office when I begged Coach to let me try out. He’d heard me tell Coach I wanted to play football because several guys on the team had taunted me when I was 70 pounds lighter and a foot shorter in 9th grade.  He umpired baseball in the summer and was behind the plate one night when two guys from an opponent tried to dislodge the ball on close plays at the plate.  He remembered I met the second guy square on and leveled him four feet in front of the plate.

Yanni got in my face. When the offense came up to the ball, Yanni yelled, “They won’t  respect you, Opie!” Then Yanni said loud enough for everyone in the county to hear, “Coach thinks you’re a pussy, and you aren’t good enough to be on his field”.

Yanni  set me up at a middle linebacker.  I was completely clueless about what I was supposed to do.  I asked Yanni what I should do.  He said when the center snaps the ball to the quarterback you tackle the quarterback before he hands the ball off. 

I hadn’t played football since grade school, except in the streets. The center snapped the ball and I shot through a gap.  I tackled the quarterback before he could hand the ball off.   It felt good to hit him.

Coach hollered at Yanni, “No, No, No, and a hundred thousand f---ing times no. We don’t want any f---ing blitzes."

Yanni was just 22 or 23 at the time, and his pride was hurt. He looked at me and said, “Get in a 3-point stance, get in a center-guard gap, and blast the gap as soon as the center snaps the ball. I want you to hit the quarterback so hard he won’t want to take another breath until this afternoon.”

I did just was Yanni told me. Coach got red-faced and started cussing at me. He put a red vest on the quarterback and said the quarterback couldn’t get tackled when he had on a red vest.  Yanni’s pride was stoked, and I loved laying a breath-taking hit on the prima donna quarterback that picked on me when he was five inches taller and 40 pounds heavier.

Now, the tables were turned.  I was bigger, yet my basketball quickness and catcher toughness provided me a miss-match advantage.  I hollered at Yanni, “Look coach, they put the pussy in a petticoat so we could kiss him instead of tackle him.”   Coach flipped out at me and called me a smart ass. 

Yanni loved the competitive fire he stoked in me so easy. Yanni wasn’t aware Pop had stoked that fire every day since I was born.  Sometimes that fire burned too hot, but the football field was the place for it.  I loved how it felt to get even with folks that had teased me when I was smaller.  When I exploded my violence upon them, I was just doing my job for my team.

Yanni gathered us into a huddle, and quickly explained to me an “ice play” was coming.   He said Coach was going to test my toughness.   “Ice” is short for isolation. In this play, two backs block the linebacker, and the down linemen double team block on the defensive tackles. It’s a violent play.

On our “ice” play, our fullback was the lead blocker that hit the hole first.  Our FB was a big guy – about 6’6” and 220 pounds.  The wingback was the second blocker and blocked me after going in motion.

Yanni gave me a quick demonstration on how to take on the lead blocker and split the double team.  Yanni’s demo seemed simple to me.  Yanni said,  “Dig in, and meet the first guy into the whole with your best forearm shiver”.  The he smiled and said, “Kick their ass”. 

The big fullback plowed into me just like Yanni promised.  I got lower than the fullback and used the jam technique Yanni had just showed me. I stood the big guy straight up. The second back hit me in the back, but a 130 pound sophomore tackled the ball carrier four yards behind the line of scrimmage.  I had jammed the play.

After ten plays, the varsity was on back on their 40 yard line -- suffering 10 yards of net losses. I had made six tackles and knocked down a pass. Yanni was beside himself. He kept hollering at the offense, “Opie’s gonna get yas, Opie’s gonna to get yas.” Coach was red faced, and tight lipped.  I knew Yanni was going to get it after practice, but I figured he knew better than me what was coming.     

Coach made us start from the 50 yard line again..  He said, “Gentlemen, if we don’t do it right this time, we're doing grass drills for the rest of practice.” After the next ten plays, the varsity had gained three yards. I made several more tackles and broke up three more “Ice” plays where other guys made tackles.  My confidence showed, and none of the varsity hot shots were able to block me. 

Coach ran us through grass drills for 70 minutes. Grass drills make your lungs burn.  Every muscle in your body screams “quit” during grass drills.  In Coach’s version of grass drills we jumped face first into the ground; got up and sprinted five yards; jumped face first into the ground again, got back up and sprinted back to the starting point; then he had us jumped face first into the ground, get up, and sprint ten yards.  At that point we jumped face first into the ground, again; got up, and sprinted back to starting point.  The drill progresses until you get to a hundred yards in five yard increments.   

Nothing I had experienced in basketball and baseball compared to this torture.  Some guys didn’t like the contact of football.  I loved the contact, but grass drills were my enemy.  I admit, though, that those grass drills made us mentally tougher. 

The grass drills kicked my ass, but I was on top of the world because I had made such an impression in our scrimmage.  I really didn’t know what to expect with contact.  I didn’t realize the fire and courage it took to confront the violent contact of football.  Basketball and baseball were contact sports, but football is a violent sport.  I had made Yanni’s day with my kinship with football contact.  Yanni and I became friends. 

When I got home from practice, Paula’s Dad, Mr., Pucci, had left a message with Mom for me to call him. Mr. Pucci ask me to meet him at the Sons of Italy Hall for lunch.  I was concerned.  Mr. Pucci had the worst LMS (Little Man Syndrome) I had every encountered.  I was afraid he learned Paula and I were doing the dirty deed. 

Mr. Pucci worked at the J & L Aliquippa Works, and served as the union as vice-president of USW Local 412.  Mr. Pucci ordered lasagna for me. He told me the SOI's lasagna was even better than his wife’s. He ordered Italian sausage, “Dago Red homemade wine”, and ate Italian bread for himself. He looked me right in the eye, and said, “My wife tells me you took Paula’s virtue, and you’re doing Paula two or three times a week”.  At that point, the lasagna didn’t taste as good as what Mrs. Pucci had made.

Mr. Pucci told me Paula had approached her mother for birth control pills.  He told me  he was absolutely against it, and wanted me to stop seeing his daughter. Mr. Pucci had taken me by surprise.  My worst fear was playing itself out.  

I didn’t know Paula had told her mother about our relationship.  In 1967, young gentlemen didn’t kiss and tell. Proper young ladies denied even thinking about sex – even though I later learned a lot more “did it” than I thought.

Two of Mr. Pucci’s friends came to our table from the bar. They asked him if he was okay, and Mr. Pucci spouted about me stealing his daughter’s virtue. The guys asked him, “You want for us to take him outside and teach him a lesson, Mr. Pucci?”

I thanked Mr. Pucci for lunch and scurried out of the S.O.I. as fast as I could walk.  I was glad I had said nothing to Mr. Pucci.  Mr. Pucci’s friends followed me. I took them for Mafia guys.  They didn’t know when they caught up with me I had picked up a brick. When the bigger of the two guys grabbed me by shoulder, I turned into him with the brick like I was swing at a belt-high fastball.  Blood gushed from his nose and his mouth. He screamed in pain, and fell to the sidewalk.

Not knowing what was next, I kicked the other guy between his legs, and ran home as fast as I could. My heart was racing with the most fear I had experienced in 17 years. Before I caught my breath and my mother knocked on the door to tell me, “That girl, Paula” was on the telephone holding for me.

Paula’s Dad had come home and told her mother about his meeting with me and telling me to stay away from Paula.  He hadn’t told Mrs. Pucci about bringing his goons along.Mr. Pucci didn’t know what happened when his friends followed me down the street.

Paula exploded into shrieks when I described what happened. Her mother took the phone, and asked me to talk with Mr. Pucci.   When I told Mr. Pucci the story about hitting one of the guys with a brick, and kicking the other one between the legs, he said he said, “Shit”.

There was no doubt in my mind that some “wise guy” was going to burst through the front door of my parents’ home any second and shoot us all into a puddle of blood. Mr. Pucci just said, Shit!” and handed the phone to Mrs. Pucci. She said, “Opie, I’m sorry, but Paula can’t talk with you now.”

Since I thought the mafia was less than five minutes away, I knew I had to come clean with Dad. I told Pop about Paula and Mr. Pucci.  “Son”, he said, “a man always gets in trouble when the blood rushes from his big brain to his little brain. You’re in trouble, but I believe I can take care of this thing.”

Then he said, “You did the right thing with the wise guys.  I don’t want you starting trouble, but you’ll always be on the run from those guys if you aren’t respected.  You made it easier to fix this since they have learned you didn’t run and hide”. 

Dad was a Democrat precinct chairman. He called the chairman from Mr. Pucci’s precinct, and told him some of the details.  My dad’s associate called a state senator, and set a dinner meeting set for Wednesday at the Serbian Club in Aliquippa .

Dad and I sat at the table with the state senator.  Mr. and Mrs. Pucci showed up, and they brought Paula.  Mrs. Pucci sat Paula between me and her, and next to Mr. Pucci.  The state senator sat between Dad and Mr. Pucci.  After Mr. Pucci apologized to me, Mrs. Pucci hugged me, Paula cried, and we ate dinner. 

I learned I had, in fact, busted a brick on a low-level mafia wise guy. Mr. Pucci paid the doctor bills for more than 50 stitches, and bought the guy off with $500 cash. I also learned Mr. Pucci crossed a line.  Mrs. Pucci’s father was a “Mafia Don” and Mr. Pucci was in big-time hot water with his wife.  Dad told me not to breathe a word to anyone about the dinner – especially to Mom.

Installment V

I got promoted to the first team in football when we returned for the second practice Monday, Yanni and Coach told me I was playing middle linebacker in the season opener Saturday night. I practiced with the first team all week.

Mr. and Mrs. Pucci took Paula and me to the SOI for dinner Friday night.  Paula looked exactly like a miniature Natalie Wood, a Hollywood star at the time. She wore a white silk dress, with white gloves, and white pumps. At barely five feet tall and right at 100 pounds. Her eyes and face were so beautiful I was astounded.

Paula made me feel special like no other member of the opposite sex had ever done. It made no sense for a gal that looked so drop-dead gorgeous to even go out with me, let alone fawn over me. At dinner she moved her legs next to mine under the table, but her awareness of her father was never in doubt.

Mr. Pucci told me at dinner that he, Mrs. Pucci, Paula, and Paula’s sister were coming to my football game the next night. He mustered a sly grin, and said, “If you hit on the field like you hit on the street, your rivals will put up the white flag by halftime”. I pretended I wasn’t sure I knew what he meant.

Paula walked me to my door when Mr. and Mrs. Pucci drove me home. She had no problem laying a long passionate kiss on me with her parents less than 50 feet away.  At 15 inches taller, I had to slide down to kiss her – even with her 3-inch heels. I told her I’d try to get the family car for after the game if she could get a curfew.

In the 62 games my school had previously played against our hated rival, the good guys had won just seven times. The previous season, our rival had embarrassed us 60-6. We were underdogs – big time underdogs.  A writer for the paper I worked for mentioned it might be hard for our rival’s coach to hold the score down to last year’s drubbing. 

Everyone knew about the scrimmage beating we had sustained a week earlier.  Our rivals returned most of their starters from the prior year.  I knew their quarterback from hoops at the waterworks.

As we were dressing, Yanni called me outside the locker room. He said, "You’re going to be nervous. Don’t think.  You’re playing over an All-State center, but he’s not quick enough to handle you. They won’t read our stunts and blitzes, and you’re gonna get a lot of clean shots. “

Yanni smiled.  He slapped my back on my shoulder pads and looked right into my eyes.  “I know this doesn’t make sense since you were 3^rd string just a week ago, but you are our hammer, Op.  You’ll be the difference between us winning and losing. Our team has to have the confidence that comes from big hits.  You're our hitter, Op.  If you don’t slam the hammer, it could be ugly.”

The heat was oppressive. Our offense couldn’t move the ball, and the all-state center wasn’t as slow as Yanni promised. It seemed like we were playing defense the whole game.  

I found out I was stronger, and quick enough to force Mr. All State into two yip snaps.  We recovered both fumbles. We beat our rivals 7-0, but I had dropped nearly 15 pounds of fluids.

I punished their guys when I had clear shots.  Our lone touchdown was the result of an intercepted after I hit their quarterback on a blitz.  Medics carries him off the field on a stretcher before we kicked the extra point.  The ambulance’s flashing lights going off the field was the symbol guys on our team needed to believe. 

Yanni was beside himself at halftime.  He asked for a head butt from me on his forehead.  The butt opened a cut and he wiped his blood on each of the defensive front seven.  We played nasty defense the second half.  Our opponents didn’t get past the 50-yard line and only got one first down.  I got past Mr. All State twice on blitzes, and snuff every “Ice” play they ran at us.

Coach told us after the game that their team had scored four touchdowns and gained 238 yards last year on “Ice” plays.  He reminded us the “grass drills” we did Monday made us tough enough to win.  I didn’t buy Coach’s logic.  I thought Yanni had been the difference in convincing us we could win.

Paula’s parents let her go to the dance with me after the game. She wore the madras skirt and yellow oxford blouse she had worn on our second date. Of course, she wore  pantyhose. We made love in the front seat of the car while parked in her parents’ driveway.  I kissed her goodnight two minutes before her midnight curfew.

Things with Paula’s parents didn’t add up just like things with Paula and I didn’t add up.  Her mother called Sunday afternoon and asked me to Sunday dinner. Paula’s grandparents from both sides were at dinner to meet me.

Both of her grandmothers fussed over Paula, and both of them went out of their way to treat me nice. Paula’s grandfather on her bother’s side didn’t talk much.  He sat directly across from me at dinner.  The only thing he said was, “Son, I understand you’re good at contact sports”.  He put his head down and smiled.

Less than a week before, Paula’s dad had a pair of goons try to scare me away, and now I was an honored guess in his home. He went on all through dinner about my “vicious” play in the football game the night before.  I was confused.

Brenda had enlisted my mother in her full court press. My mother tried to tell me I couldn’t go to Paula’s for Sunday dinner, but Dad put his foot down.  After I took Paula home after the Saturday game, I went straight to the newspaper to work.  I got off at  6 a.m. and slept for two hours sleep before rising for Church. After church, I crashed again.

Dad got me up at 4 p.m. to get ready to go to Paula’s. He, Mom, and I talked about Paula and Brenda. I made it clear my choice in girlfriends was my call. Dad supported me. Mom griped about differences in faiths, and told me Catholics were going to Hell. Like always, Dad pulled out a "win" when he needed one. He taught me to pick my battles.

Paula was wearing shorts when I got to her house – the first time in three months I saw her without a skirt and pantyhose. The 1-10 numbering system guys used to rate girls looks had already gained traction in 1967. If Bo Derek was a true 10, Paula was every bit a 12 - or higher. Paula was eye candy before there was eye candy.

Paula and I washed dishes and I served coffee and desert to her grandparents. We talked that night about subjects we hadn’t talked about before. I learned Paula had repeated first grade, and was just starting 10th grade. She told me she had little confidence in her intelligence.

When her grandparents went home, Paula and I retreated to the porch swing in front of her house. We talked about our dreams and aspirations – something we hadn’t shared previously. We teased each other, and I found her “tickle spots” for the first time. Paula asked me a lot of questions about Brenda, and if I thought I’d ever get over Brenda.

I hadn’t seen the paper that day. Paula had cut out the article about our game the night before. Coach’s made comments in the first paragraph about the difference in “Ice” play stats from last season.  Coach singled me out, and the paper mentioned my name.  I told Paula I was most proud of getting accepted by my teammates since I was third string just a week ago.   

Paula asked me if the contact scared me.  I admitted to her I was scared “shitless” before the game, but I forgot my fears once we kicked off.  Paula kissed my forehead and squeezed my hand. The next thing I remember was that Paula was shaking me. I had fallen asleep in her lap.

Installment VI

To this day I remember it was nearly 10 o’clock when I got home. Paula lived fifteen minutes from my house, and during the ride home I realized I had fallen in love with her.

As soon as I got home I rushed to call her. Paula answered the phone, and I announced, “Paula, I’m in love with you”. I hung up right away, but I sent her a dozen yellow roses the next day.   The roses took half of my paycheck for a weekend night at the paper.

Mr. White let me clean the offices and the lumber yard after football practice four nights a week. I gave that money to Mom for household expenses and used money from my night at the paper for spending money. The guys in Dad’s union local each kicked in a dollar a week to buy groceries and pay our utilities. My contribution from the lumber yard made the $60 per month house payment.

My studying got done in two one-hour study halls I had each day. Paula and I helped each other with Spanish on the phone each night from 10 – 11. Yanni was the only coach that knew I had an after-practice job. He was also my history teacher and gave me every break possible.  He gave me “A’s” inspite of the fact that my work deserved “B” grades.

Paula flipped out about the flowers. I knew yellow was her favorite color from her clothes. She told me she had felt second-class as “Brenda’s back up in my heart”, and told me she was glad she had finally switched places with Brenda. I corrected her, and told her she was alone in my heart now.  Paula cried.  I told her I had not gotten as mentally close with Brenda as I was with her.  I told her I felt she opened her heart to me, and Brenda hadn’t learned to do that.

Pop survived the heart by-pass surgery. Dr. McGovern told him to pay when he could. My restaurant critic column grew popular with readers, and the editor sent me out one night a week. He paid me for eight hours, and I got a free dinner for Paula and I.. Football went well. Our team finished the season with our school's best record in five years, and I made All-Conference teams.  Colleges were visiting school and talking with me.

Paula and I talked every night, and helped each other with Spanish. When the first nine weeks ended, Paula and I each got A’s in Spanish. Paula had her best report card ever. By Thanksgiving, Mom and Pop had burned all their savings on Dad’s doctor bills.  My college account was the only money left.

Guys at Dad’s work went out on strike, and their financial support dried up. When you’re young and in love everything is right in life. Football had helped my confidence so much. My reputation as a tough guy grew, and I liked it. I broke my right hand in the fourth game. Yanni taped it tight enough that I lost all feeling – so it never hurt. .I missed five plays all season, but couldn't write for six weeks.  I used by left hand to gently stroke and caress Paula's breasts.

Paula’s mother had won the battle for birth control pills, and I convinced Paula to wear stockings when we went out for my restaurant critic dinners. Our relationship grew more intense each week. She never missed one of my games, and her parents often came to the games, too. Mom got to know Paula, and learned to accept the “cute little Catholic girl”.

Paula’s parents let her join me for church Sunday night’s if I went to Mass with her Sunday mornings. At Thanksgiving, Paula shared with me sensitive family issues.

Things that never added up came together quickly.  Paula told me her father kept a mistress on the side, and her mother was aware of his infidelity. She told me it was sort of an old-world tradition with blue-collar Italian men.  Her mother’s father had done the same.

I wasn't surprised when Paula told me her dad was a bookie, and ran a loan shark business out of the mill. She had been her father’s little princess until her 16th birthday when she learned of her Dad’s second life. Our first night of passion resulted from her rebellion, the fact I made her feel so special, and that I was so different from her father.

Paula admired her mother so much for her strength. When her mother learned of her father’s attempts to scare me off, she grew even more determined to get Paula birth control pills to exercise her power.  Her mother’s power was backed by Paula’s grandfather’s high-level Mafia role.

I have to admit my ego was somewhat deflated when Paula didn’t tell me some magical power I owned overcame her and made her want me sexually. When she finally revealed my tenderness and honesty with her won her over, I forgot my early guilt for my loveless lust.

Paula had become the best friend I ever had. I helped Paula believe in herself, and her confidence grew. She no longer saw herself as a petite “Barbie” doll, but as an assertive young lady that believed she could achieve.  Her assertiveness grew weekly, and she took pleasure in challenging me on politics and sports.  Still, she fawned on me in ways I have never experienced since then.

Before we got serious, Paula never considered college. Her father discouraged her from any thoughts of an education.  Her mother had convinced her that an Italian woman’s only place was in the home.

Paula loved coming to my parents’ home. My younger sister was in awe of Paula’s appearance, and loved the attention Paula paid to her. Mom and Dad really grew to like her, and soon she surpassed Brenda in Mom’s eyes. I got my taste for apple pie and chocolate chip cookies from Dad.  Paula fussed over Pop like she did her Grandfathers.   She never came to the house without giving pop a kiss and a sweet treat she had made for him. 

Installment VII

Yanni ran the scoreboard at basketball games. He teased me about “playing up in class” in reference to Paula. He accused me of head butting her so she couldn’t see me when we went out.  When basketball season started, life had grown really good -- except for the financial crunch at home.

The "grim reaper" visited Mom and Dad in the form of a mortgage foreclosure letter just after Thanksgiving. Dad held a family meeting after dinner and alerted us Santa Claus wasn't coming to town in 1967. Pop told me he needed every penny I had available. Dad assured us he felt better physically, but our financial future looked bleak.  He had been turned down for Social Disability since he was qualified physically to work in an office – even though he wasn’t qualified educationally.

Pop allowed me to keep $20 for Paula’s Christmas present, but he instructed me to ask Mr. White for more hours. I suggested to Dad I could drop out of school and support the family.  Pop got mad and told me he’d figure something else out.

Dad’s brother was president of a United Mine Workers Local, and knew Paula’s father. Uncle Bud suggested Mr. Pucci might be able to get me into J & L Steel and that I could trade out daylight shifts so I could finish school.  Entry-level jobs at J & L paid better than Dad made after 17 years in his job. 

That night I called Paula’s Dad, and told him my problem. I asked him for instructions on submitting an application and getting hired at J & L. He told me J & L hired through the Pennsylvania Bureau of Employment, and I’d have to score better than other applicants on a test to get hired.

He said if I scored well on the test he knew people in personnel that would help me. Most of the other guys taking the test the morning I applied looked hung over, and without purpose. Two days later I got called to take a physical, and was instructed to report work at midnight.

I called Paula with my excitement. The job meant Santa Claus could visit my sister, and Dad could save the house. Paula wasn’t enthused. In fact, she was very negative about the whole idea. Her attitude shocked me. When things didn’t add up, I suspected Paula’s father was at the root of the problem.

When I reported to work I got sent to the finishing mill -- where Paula’s father worked. Mr. Pucci had arranged for me to work in the crane which took political bending of the union’s bidding rules. He also arranged for me to work the midnight shift on Sunday’s through Thursday’s. I’d trade shifts with the other two crane operators who were glad to rid themselves of midnight shifts for daylight and twilight.

Mr. Pucci told me the job had the added benefit of working for him on paydays – collecting from guys that owed him money by hanging out at the paymaster’s office on payday. He paid me $50 cash every other Thursday for just a few hours effort. I knew Mr. Pucci had pulled strings to help me, but I also knew what he wanted me to do was wrong.

I wasn’t aware, but Mrs. Pucci continuously threw my “aw shucks, do right” honesty in Mr. Pucci’s face. I learned he put a face on for Paula's sake, but he really resented my values and the fact I had embarrassed his goons on Labor Day when they followed me out of the SOI.  . Mr. Pucci knew he’d achieved leverage over me, but I didn't know how he was about to impact me.

I attended Midnight Mass with Paula and her mother on Christmas Eve. Mrs. Pucci arranged a ride home with friends from church so Paula and I could be alone.   It snowed earlier that day -- providing Pittsburgh a White Christmas. I drove to a spot on Sewickley Heights where we parked on an overlook with vistas up and down the Ohio River . The snow-covered ground was beautiful, but Paula was as cold to me as the chilled air outside the car. For the first time in six months, Paula rejected my advances.

She wanted “us” to talk, but I got left out of “us”. After Paula stopped crying, she punched me with clenched fists as hard as she could until she tired. Then, Paula drifted into a half crying – half screaming – rant for nearly an hour.

Paula told me she was afraid I would break her heart like her father and grandfathers had broken the hearts of their women.  She told me she feared her father would get a grip on me in the mill that I couldn’t escape.  She said her mother had seen her father pull so many other people into his web of deceit with his power at the mill.   

Paula and I talked many times about our future.  We talked of getting married after she I finished my sophomore year in college and she graduated from college.  Paula reminded me I promised her a life where good beat evil. 

After Christmas Day basketball practice, I went to Paula’s house to pick her up for Christmas Dinner with my family. We exchanged presents in front of her parents, but said little on the 15 minute drive to my house.

Paula and I washed dishes and cleaned the kitchen after Christmas Dinner. We talked while we washed dishes, and Paula told me she felt I had given up my soul to her father.  When we got to her door that night, Paula said, “I love you, but I’m afraid to watch you grow into what he is.” She hugged me hard and walked into her house.

The next night I got knocked to the floor in the Holiday Basketball Tournament, and got sent to the hospital with a concussion. Paula visited me that evening, and sat on my bed. She told me she was worried about me.  She asked me to quit basketball and get a job in another mill. 

Paula was right. Her father owned me. When I got back to work he tried twice to get me to drop hot loads on guys in the mill he wanted to kill. Saying no wasn't an option.  Refusing Mr. Pucci just meant I'd become a target for an “accident”. Rarely a month went expired that someone didn't die at J & L - and I learned most of the accidental deaths weren’t really accidents.

I shouldn't have been surprised. Steel haulers were killed in my county every month by snipers. I had friends that paid their way through college starting cars in Youngstown , Ohio for mafia guys. Nearly 3000 folks were killed in mafia slayings in Youngstown during the 60s.

When I told Paula what was going on, she flipped out.  At dinner the next Sunday at my home, she told my parents how her father’s influence had affected me.  She point-blank told me and my parents she would break up with me if I didn’t quit the mill by the end of the month.  She told Mom and Pop I should quit basketball and work in another mill.

Dad made it clear I wasn’t quitting basketball, or my job.  He said I was free to get another job after basketball season, but men at our house didn’t quit what they started.  He said, “We tough things out”.  Paula asked me to take her home.  She cried the whole way.  Paula told me we were through, and she had to move forward in her life.  She said her mother and her had talked through the issue.

Nobody at work knew I was still in high school. Nobody at school, except Yanni, knew I was working in the mill. College football coaches called, but no big schools brought offers prior to national signing day. When national signing day came in February, I didn’t get a scholarship offer.

A small private college ten miles away offered me a partial football scholarship if I’d sign right away. Dad felt the pressure, and told me I could continue working at the mill this way. He encouraged me to sign, and said I could afford to buy a car if I lived at home.

Purdue and Kentucky dropped scholarship offers on me the week after I signed with the small college.   I didn’t understand the recruiting process and Coach never advised me.  Yanni was angry at Coach and my Dad.   When expected first choices don’t sign, colleges go after their back up recruits two or three weeks later. I was already committed.

Basketball progressed as projected. Our team broke the school’s 20-year conference championship drought and won our first two playoff games in the Pitt Field House.

I had lost nearly 20 pounds since Thanksgiving. My play dropped off from the prior season. I was always tired and my fatigue from working in the mill, going to school, and playing ball got to me. My basketball coach thought I might have fallen prey to drugs.  Yanni convinced him the financial strain at home wore on me. 

When Paula broke up with me, I was crushed.  Mom called Paula’s mother without my knowledge, and her mother blamed everything on my Dad and her husband.  She told Mom of my two ill-fated load drops in the mill.

Without my knowledge, Paula made it to our playoff games at Pitt’s Field House.  I hurt for Paula more than I had hurt for Brenda.  Our next game was at the Civic Arena, a 13,000 seat arena in downtown Pittsburgh . During the first minute of the game, I took an elbow to the eye.  I opened a cut on my eyebrow where I had been stitched in ninth grade.  The new cut needed stitches.

The nurse at the Civic arena’s first aid office stitched hockey players, and said I could get back for the second half if I wanted her to stitch me. I asked why it took so long and she told me it took time for the pain killer to set up.

“Damn, the pain killer,” I said, “I waited for this night all my life. I don’t want to miss a second”. I was on the floor for the start of the second quarter, with a shaved eyebrow, five stitches, and a budging shiner.

When I ran out the runway toward the Civic Arena floor, I thought I saw Paula. When I was sure it was her, my heart started racing.  Paula reached out and grabbed my arm as I ran by the seats going back to the bench.  She yelled at me, "You’ve dreamed of playing here your whole life.  Be my hero one more time.  Tough it out, Opie.”

My team was down by nine points when we started the second quarter. On the second trip down the floor I blocked the shot of their best inside player.  I got high enough, and enough of the ball, that I pulled us both to the floor. The refs called a jump ball, and in those days you actually jumped for possession.

Even though I was three inches shorter, I knew I could control the tip with jumping quickness and my long arms. I winked to my sixth grade buddy, James, which meant take a flyer on my jump ball. I won the tap to everyone’s surprise and James delivered an uncontested slam dunk.

Everyone in our small town was at the game, and our cross-river rivals played the second game of the evening. James’ dunk electrified the crowd, and converted our rivals across the river to our friends for the night. Paula's encouragement set me on fire! I was all over the floor. I only scored six points, but I grabbed 11 rebounds and helped hold Mr. All State to just 13 points.

Playing in the Civic Arena was one of the dreams I had shared with Paula during our endless talks.  By the end of the game it was clear I had taken away his game and his fight. Coach decided to stay through the second game so we could return support to our cross-river rivals.

Paula knew I needed to be at work at midnight, and offered to drive me there to help me keep my job.  She kissed me long and hard after laughing at my shaved eyebrow and told me how good she felt watching me experience my dream.

When we got to her mother’s car, Paula told me she was lonely and wanted me. She said, “I still love you, but this isn’t love. I’m horny”. We made love, but Paula made it clear she wasn’t turning back. Our relationship was over.

Conclusion

A month later, Brenda got to me at a weak moment. I had sex with her at our tree house on a warm night in May.  I was still in love with Paula, and Brenda knew it.   Paula never returned any of my calls after the game in the Civic Arena.  Paula didn't play games. She said what she meant, and meant what she said.

Paula had made it clear I had no chance with her as long as her father had influence on me. Dad refused to let me find a job at another mill because he had second thoughts about me getting drafted for baseball.  He had heard signing bonuses were large enough that they might pay off his medical bills. 

My relationship with Brenda was purely physical and social for the next nine months. I wasn’t able to get Paula out of my heart, or my mind.  My hurt was deep.  I developed resentment toward Dad for making his problems and fears my problems and fears.  We lost our closeness and never regained it before his death..

With her friend Bette often tagging along, I issued almost all my social life to Brenda.
I had played college football in the fall of 1968, and kept my job in the mill at midnight. The physical demands of college football were greater than any high school sport.  I got drafted in later rounds, but Dad didn’t let me sign because the bonus was too low. 

The world got crazier after Paula broke up with me. Martin Luther King was shot, and race riots destroyed much of Pittsburgh .  The Tet offensive killed seven guys from my high school in Nam , and I knew four guys that lost digits and limbs. Bobby Kennedy was murdered a couple of months later, and anti-war riots were common at colleges.

The first time I didn't deliver on the accident I told Mr. Pucci I got cold feet. He was red-faced angry and let me know there were consequences for not meeting his expectations. The second time I dropped a load but I had the load swinging so I knew it would miss his target.

Dad ran for political office, and had picked up an income that started in January of 1969 that was better than he had ever earned.   

I quit the mill after a semester of college and I transferred to Kentucky to walk on for football. Twenty-four guys on our small college team had robbed a trained and were tossed from school. I had to play both ways after they were run off, and dropped nearly 30 pounds during the season. I played four games on a hair-line fracture to my left ankle.  Losing Paula, the grinds of small college football and working at the mill had sapped me.  Political and social events of 1968 depressed me, too. 

Bettie visited me for a weekend in Kentucky my first spring.  She told me she had set Brenda up for seduction and knew how I would react to Brenda.  She planned to stay away for a few months, and then she felt she would tell me about her feelings for me.  She told me she didn’t expect Paula to mess up her plan.  Bettie told me how she held her feelings in for years.  She knew when I transferred to Kentucky it was time for her to make a last-ditch effort. 

If you can’t find love in the Bluegrass in the spring, you don’t have love in your heart. Circumstances, and Bettie's guile, drew us together without my knowledge of what was happening.  We’ve been married 33 years. She’s never broken my heart, and is the best friend I’ve ever had. We produced two wonderful children that have made us enormously proud.

During the summer of 1970, I broke my leg in four places, and tore the MCL and ACL. After seven operations, I have a crooked left leg without ligaments to hold it steady.

Brenda passed away a few years ago from injuries in an auto accident.

Paula went to college, and later to law school. She practices family law in Northern Virginia -- outside Washington , DC . She has never married. Bettie and I lived in DC when Paula was in law school.

Chemistry between Paula and I never abated. We met by accident in a Georgetown watering hole.  We shared lunch 2-3 times a month.  I requested an employment transfer after nine months to avoid temptation.  I escaped before I gave in.

Last summer, Paula showed up at a hotel where I was attending a reunion for our basketball team. I agreed to meet her for dinner, and we talked for five hours.

Paula wore a white linen suit like she wore on our fist date, and she wore stockings. After we had shared a bottled of wine, she slid her skirt high enough to reveal the top of her stocking welt, and said, “Can I tempt you?”

“Am I tempted? Yes,”, I replied, “but I'm in love with my best friend. You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on, but I made a death do us part promise”.

Paula squeezed my hand.  I cleared my choked throat, kissed Paula on the cheek and I scurried to my room

Stockings and garters in “Crunch Time” by Johnny Yuma

As the pantyhose craze swept the USA in the late 60s, I passed through puberty on my way to manhood. I found the transition from stockings to pantyhose as confusing as girls themselves.

The fact girls seemed less concerned keeping their thighs covered when they wore pantyhose was something I liked. Also, I liked that pantyhose eliminated panty girdles. Panty girdles covered thighs, and usually covered stocking welts. But mostly, panty girdles appeared to me to be the chastity belts that suffocated my fantasies.

During my freshman year of high school, a girl in my English class with long, lithe legs accidentally provided me a vision I can vividly recall to this day. The edge of her pleated gray wool skirt got caught on the edge of her desk.  Her mishap provided me a look at her spectacular legs.  Her sheer tan stockings were affixed with white garters.  I was hypnotized.

The first time she crossed her legs, I saw her garter belt outlined under her white nylon panties.  I was seated to her left, and I was in the last seat of my row. I was the only person in class that caught this great leg shot.

When she crossed her legs, the swishing sound of her stockings rubbing together grabbed my attention. Her skirt did not separate from the desk the entire class period.  English was the last thing on my mind. I felt guilty thinking the thoughts brought up by my view of her legs. We had been close friends since fifth grade.

All I could think about at that moment was getting lost between her legs. She had matured faster than me.  She got invited to parties by guys two grades ahead of us in school. At my public school, social rules didn’t allow freshman guys to move up in class.  Undoubtedly, her status was beyond my class.

To make my concentration even more difficult, the girl seated in front of her wore a short skirt. Her skirt had risen to expose the panty edge in her pantyhose. I glanced at her gams. When she intercepted my glance, I turned my head away.  I had been caught looking, and my red face showed I was embarrassed. Still, the girl she didn’t pull her skirt down.

Our teacher noticed of my lack of attention to her lecture.  Just before the bell to end the class, she asked me what was so interesting I had paid no attention for the entire period. The girl seated ahead of  spoke before I could, and said, “He’s been day dreaming, and he’s popped a boner”.

The class exploded in laughter. I wanted to find a place to go hide -- and die. The bulge in my pants was obvious to all those that looked - which seemed liked everyone. When the bell rang to end class, I couldn’t get to my study period fast enough.

My closest friend slid into the seat beside me, and asked me if what he heard on the way to study period was true. I nodded affirmatively. Instead of being the friend I needed at that moment, he coolly informed me I had become the new school “fool”.

The freshman basketball coach was the study period monitor. He called me out of the cafeteria and he asked me if the rumor about me was true. I nodded my head affirmatively. He gave me a disgusted look and said, “If you had a brain, you’d be dangerous”.

My ensuing look must have tipped him off to the impact of his ridicule. He said, “You must put this out of your mind. We play in two hours.   Today’s game is our biggest game of the season so far.  I don’t want you playing with snakes in your head. “

For most of the game I forgot about my “boner”. My bad luck appeared to change until the last minute of the game. Our opponent was undefeated, and our biggest rival. I had stopped their top scorer cold – holding him scoreless to that point in the game. We clung to a small lead.  And, I had scored most points I ever scored in my life.

With less than 30 seconds remaining in the game, our team had the ball. We enjoyed a two-point lead when our coach called a time out. When we got to the bench for instructions I caught a glimpse of “my friend” from English class in the gray skirt three rows up in the bleachers. She crossed her legs and the swishing sound of her stockings claimed all of my attention.

I didn’t hear a thing the coach said. I was focused on her beautiful legs. I was sure I saw her bottom garter and stocking welt as the ref blew the whistle to end the timeout.

The in-bounds pass came right to me, and the opposing team fouled me right away. I made the first free throw, and the opposing coach called a time out to “ice” my second shot.

When we got to our huddle, all I could think about was confirming my garter and stocking welt sighting from a minute earlier. My friend was now dangling her shoe on the end of her foot. I saw the heel of her stocking, and confirmed my view of her stocking welt and garter.

I remember the coach giving us specific instructions to not foul because we had a three-point lead. The vision of the tan stocking welt and garter clip had overcome me. As I stepped to the free throw line, an erection was fighting to get out of my athletic supporter.

Panic set in. I leaned over and faked taking a deep breath.  I hoped my erection would subside. My coach hollered at me to shoot. I did, and put up a “brick” that bounced off the front of the rim. The ball came right back to me. I wanted to hide under the bleachers – knowing every person in the gym could see my erection.

At that moment, the opponent I had shut out stole the ball from me and dribbled toward his basket. Just as he left the floor to shoot, I fouled him in an attempt to block his shot. His shot fell through the hoop as the buzzer sounded.  He caught nothing but net with his free throw to force the game into overtime.

My teammates and I were huddled at our bench as he shot his after-the-buzzer free throw.  Our coach kicked the bleachers when the game-tying free through chewed through the net.

At the second the free throw dropped through, coach hollered my name at the top of his voice.  Just as everything in the gym went absolutely silent, he said, “You’re so dumb that if you had a brain, you’d be dangerous.”

The gym erupted in laughter. While my English class ridicule was scarring – Coach’s put down was worse than any death I could imagine.

We played four overtimes.  Finally, we lost the game by two points. The opponent I had shut down earlier scored 12 points for his team during the four overtimes.  I scored two points for my team.

My teammates blamed the loss on me. Coach pointed me out in the locker room for stupid play, and choking.  I knew the loss was my fault.  Our hated rivals had their way because I came undone by stockings and garters during crunch time.

TO BE CONTINUED

Crunch Time Conclusion

Hero status didn't last long. We won our next game, but I played poorly. Coach got on me, and the cut on my eye got opened by an opponent's elbow.  I got stitched up - again. Pop couldn’t get out of work to see this game so Bettie's Dad took me to the hospital.  It took “Old Sawbones” fifteen minutes to close my cut.  While my mother soothed “hurts” with hot chocolate, Bettie’s Dad saw pizza as the solution to teen pains.  He took Bettie, Brenda, and I for pizza after I got seven more stitches.

Bettie and Brenda sandwiched me between them in the back seat of Bettie’s father’s car.. Bettie’s ever-present mini skirt did not provide her much modesty. She slid in first, and I could tell she was sans panties under her pantyhose. Even though her aggressiveness had turned me off, I couldn’t deny that her package got my motor running.  Bettie’s legs were slim and muscled.  She knew how to swish to get my attention and loved the feeling of power she could grab with just a “swish”..

After I moved to the middle, and sat on the hump of the big Cadillac, Brenda slid in real close to me. Brenda took my hand and slid it to the top of her knees. The outside temperature was in the low 20’s, and she was more interested in the warming potential of my hand than allowing me to explore her stockings.

Our school colors were red, white, and black. Brenda wore a pleated red, black, and white plaid skirt. Almost every girl in school owned one just like it - except Bettie. Bettie set her own fashion path, and was bold enough not to follow the crowd.  Brenda wore a red wool v-neck sweater, and a white oxford blouse. At 5’ 8’ tall, Brenda's long legs had nowhere to go except against mine.

Bettie’s father brought up how Coach bullied me that day. He said Coach picked a player each year to bully. He told me, again, his son had been that player two years before.   I could tell Bettie’s Dad didn’t see Coach’s good side.  While Mr. White treated me well, he needed another example unrelated to him so he would be credible when he went after coach’s job with the school board.

Bettie’s father had just won a seat on the school board, and had been elected President at the new Board’s first meeting.  He said, “There is a credible rumor Coach Hennon is going to resign as the varsity coach at the end of the season. I promise you your Coach Maravich won’t get past nomination for the varsity job”.  As he spoke, Bettie’s father grew angrier with each word.

I was too happy to give much thought to Mr. White’s rants about Coach. We’d won the game, I’d won respect from my teammates, and I was free to pursue my feelings for Brenda. Life was as good as it gets for a high school freshman with red hair.

Bettie was a head turner. She had the All American girl-next-door looks.  Her mini skirts were modest by standards of the time. But her total package was “finished” more than any 15-year-old girl I had seen.  I had not heard locker room stories of Bettie with older guys.  Everything I heard was that she was a heartbreaker that just “teased”.  Still, every guy on the team was awed by her presence.

Brenda also owned All-American girl fresh faced beauty.  She treated almost everyone with a naïve sweetness. While she claimed she was 5’ 8 1/2, her mother whispered once, "she's really 5'9" or 5'10".  Brenda hadn’t developed as fast as Bettie.  Also, Bettie’s family wealth enabled her to wear designer clothes that gave Bettie a polished and sophisticated appearance that belied her 15-year age.

Despite her self-consciousness about her height, Brenda possessed drop-dead good looks. She weighed 120 pounds, and she had no soft spots. Her breasts were firm. Next to Bettie’s bounce, Brenda’s breasts were modest.

My friendship with Brenda blossomed in fifth grade - the product of all the Sunday School picnics, Vacation Bible Schools, and Christmas parties we’d attended together.
During a fifth grade recess, I shared with Brenda my dream of playing professional baseball.

She told me her dream was to teach elementary school. By the sixth grade, were we sharing with each other our hopes and fears about many things in life. Brenda was very much my buddy..  We shared our secret crushes classmates of the opposite sex. Our secrets created a bond that demanded loyalty I embraced.

Until our first year of high school, there was no sexual tension between us. After the night in her basement when we almost lost ourselves, my fantasies confused me.  What 15-year-old boy could resist a very pretty All-American girl with a perfect complexion, and legs that never ended.  Gee, my hormones raced when I thought about Brenda.

As I was getting out of the car, Brenda whispered to me to call her in one hour. Mom greeted me at the door with a June Cleaver hug.  She made me a hot chocolate, and piled on marshmallows.  Mom made me hot chocolate to celebrate good happenings and to soothe bad circumstances.

Dad sat down, and talked with me about the game. Pop told me he was told about the effort I extended. He said he heard Coach dad shown me up.  Pop explained how he grew strong by people like Coach.  Pop told me it was important to not make Coach “look small” or try to get even when I got embarrassed. He told me my peers knew I was getting bullied, but they would respect me more if I didn’t let Coach see my frustration.

He told me that when I made the free throw with blood dripping in my eyes, I had won the respect of teammates and opponents. But, he warned me, “You have to win respect everyday.

At precisely an hour after I got out of Bettie’s car, I called Brenda.  She apologized to me for how she handled the triangle between Bettie, her, and I. She also told me Bettie really didn’t have a date with the captain of the varsity basketball team, but backed off her pursuit of me after seeing Brenda and I dance at the Country Club Christmas party.

Brenda said she was pretty sure Bettie had real feelings for me, but backed away because of the importance of their friendship. Brenda went on to say Bettie was used to boys falling over themselves because of her looks and she really was used to getting her way.

I changed the subject to Brenda. I told her how great she looked, and how good she made me feel. When I brought up the subject of the evening in her basement, Brenda recoiled. She said, she got carried away because she had fantasized about being desired by boys. Brenda told me she hated to see me hurt like I seemed to be that night and she had felt sorry for me.   That sure broke my “bubble”.  I thought there was something between us.

Brenda asked me to promise to not pressure her to do that again. She told me, as much as she liked the feeling she had when we were lost in our lust, she feared it would lead us to trouble. She reminded me how we learned together in Vacation Bible School the Ten Commandments, and what adultery meant.

I told Brenda the feelings I had for her were feelings I had never experienced.  She mentioned her feelings for me were stronger than the feelings of our friendship. She suggested we not allow ourselves to be alone together for a month.  While I didn’t like the prospect of not being alone with Brenda, I knew we had to understand our feelings before we went too far.

For the next month Brenda and I talked everyday.  Brenda, Bettie and I sat next to each other at lunch, and in study hall. Coach made references every day at practice about my girlfriend, but my playing time increased significantly.  We won nine straight games.

I followed Pop’s advice to a “T”.  I was the first player on the court, the last player off the court, and I had learned to run my motor at 78 rpm.  (Those of you of age in the late 60’s know 45 rpm’s were the standard, with 33-rpm albums entering the pop culture.)

Coach was too proud to let me start games, but I rarely came out of a game once I got in. We weren’t an athletic team.  We didn’t shoot well. Our aggressive close-quarters defense carried us. Coach got us submarine sandwiches for lunch every day we had a game, and got the cafeteria workers to load them with onions.  He really thought the onions made a difference.  They made my stomach hurt.

We readied to play our hated rival in the last game of the season. They were undefeated in the conference and had blown every other team off the court since my “nightmare” game.  A win against us sealed the conference championship for them.  If we won the game, we finished the season as co-champs.  The varsity coach at their school had resigned, and the rumor mill said their freshmen coach would likely get promoted if they beat us and finished with an undefeated season.

Coach lived in the community of our hated rival.  He had been an All-State player at that high school. He, too, really wanted the varsity-coaching job at his alma mater.  Coach worked us harder to prepare for that game than any previous game. He told us after our last practice we could win the game if I was able to shut down their hot shot.

He told me at our team meeting that I would start.  Privately, he told me he would jerk me out the first time I even hinted at experiencing a "brain burp".  Our opponent never got close to us.  We won by 16 points, which was our largest margin of victory of the season. I held “hot shot” scoreless by hanging on him all game like a cheap suit. 

Coach showed us film of our first game.  Hot shot was quick, but he used the same two moves every trip down the floor.  Holding him down was easier than taking an open-book test.

I scored 15 points which was a life-time best for me.  My feet were blistered front and back from starting and stopping with hot shot’s cuts, and I was as tired as I had ever felt.
But, the tired was a good tired.  Guys on the team gave me so much encouragement. 

Coach kept me in for the entire game. In the locker room after the game, Coach told us we won because we had played at 78 rpm’s. Then, Coach looked at me. He said, “You played at 80 rpm’s today”.  He complimented each player, and walked out of the locker room.

Brenda and Bettie were waiting for me when I came out of the locker room after showering. Bettie planted a big kiss on my cheek, and told me I played great. Brenda planted a kiss on my other cheek, and said, “You really were great out there”.

Our self-imposed month of physical separation had elapsed, and Brenda invited me over to her house to study for an English test the next day. She told me her parents would be out, but Bettie was going to chaperone us to keep us honest.

I arrived at Brenda’s house early; hoping to be alone with her before Bettie got there. Bettie answered the door when I knocked, and told me she knew why I was early. We studied at the dining room table. Brenda slipped off her shoe, and rubbed her foot on my calf. I slid my hand under the table, and stroked her leg until I reached the place where her stockings stopped.

Brenda moved closer, and allowed my hand to slide to the meeting of her stocking top, thigh, and garter. I thought I my zipper would bust with my reaction to touching Brenda’s leg at her stocking top.  Bettie sensed Brenda and I were getting lost in each other and she went home an hour before Brenda’s parents were due home.

Brenda must have read my mind. She invited me to her bedroom, and we made emergency escape plans for me in case her parent came home early. Once in her bedroom, we fell into long passionate kisses. It was really the first time we kissed for a prolonged period. I took off Brenda’s sweater, and explored the outside of her bra with my fingers. When she moaned, I unfastened her bra.

Brenda resisted for a second, and said, “No”! I retreated on her command.  After what seemed like minutes of silence, I kissed Brenda’s breasts. Without her bra, Brenda’s breasts appeared much larger than when she was dressed. As I kissed her breasts, I also rubbed the top of her stockings, and thigh. I tried to go further, but she begged me not to “push her”.

I honored Brenda”s request.  She rolled me over on my back and got on top of me. I pushed her thighs and backside on top of me without removing my pants.  Right then, we heard he parents drive up. We both jumped up. I tucked my shirt in, grabbed my coat and books, and kissed her quickly. While she dressed quickly, I stepped from her bedroom window, onto the roof of her front porch. When the front door closed, and I heard her greet each of her parents, I jumped off the roof and ran home.

When I looked at my watch, I discovered her parents were 30 minutes late getting home. I was 15 minutes past my curfew, and I knew Pop would be waiting for me. To my surprise, Dad wasn’t home when I got home. Mom told me he was meeting with Mr. White about politics.

Brenda and I prayed together the next night, and asked God to forgive us for our lust. We made rules about making out. Brenda made me promise to not to kiss her breasts.  I wasn’t allowed to touch her thighs beyond her stocking tops. We also made a pack that we would never make out at each other’s house. Twice, we were within a minute of going the whole way, and getting caught.

I got a job at the local lumberyard after the season. My job enabled me to make some badly needed spending money, and still have time for baseball practice. I also worked Thursday evenings after practice, helping the cutter prep for the next day’s deliveries. My job was to bring wood to the cutter, and to throw away scraps.

Throwing away scrap lumber bothered me.  It made no sense to me to throw away good lumber. The cutter told me the customers paid for the whole piece, and it was unethical to sell scraps somebody had paid for. I asked the owner if I could have the scraps. He asked why, and I told him I wanted to build a tree house. He found it amusing I was 15, and wanted a tree house. He gave me a tree house plan, and offered me a 20% discount on extra lumber I needed.

I later found out he thought I might steal wood from him, and could tell by what I purchased if I stole from him. He even offered to let me take lumber I needed before I had cash.  He let me work off what I owed him. With the help of a friend, I built a tree house on top of the hill over looking the river. Nobody knew who owned the land, and I was ready to tear my project down if the owner emerged and challenged me.

I finished the tree house just before school was out. Brenda and I went there after church on Sundays to talk. Brenda always dressed up for church, and she started wearing high heels when I grew past 6’ feet tall. I have vivid memories of the views I got climbing the ladder below Brenda each Sunday.

We undid all the good we did by going to church every Sunday that summer. I loved kissing her thighs. Brenda found extra long stockings in a department store in the city, and my “legal limit” was extended 3-4 inches. Rarely would she allow me to kiss her breasts because she told me what she feared it would lead to.

Pop was onto the tree house. He gave me his “birds and bees talk”. He also bought me  three condoms. We called them rubbers in those days. Pop threatened to cut off my inheritance if I used one, but threatened to cut off my “kahunas” off if I had sex without one. Brenda and I got very passionate, but we felt we could control our passions.

Brenda was a month older than me, and had her sweet 16 birthday a month after the new school year started. Brenda, her parents, and I celebrated at a restaurant in the big city 22 miles up river. I spent $40 on Brenda’s present – which is like spending $250 today.

The next day Brenda’s mother took her to get her driver’s permit, and took her to the doctor. Brenda was surprised. her mother wanted to know if her daughter had lost her virginity. When the doctor told her mother everything was in the same place as the day she was born, Brenda exhaled. Her mother then asked the physician to prescribe birth control pills for Brenda.

Brenda was excited about getting her driver’s permit. Her father had been promoted to sales manager at the car dealership he worked for, and got a demo to drive home every night. This left a car for Brenda’s mother, who didn’t work. It also meant Brenda had access to a car when she passed her driver’s test.

Brenda told me about the birth control pills, but said she was confused. Her mother wouldn’t talk with her about her reasons for the pills. The doctor told Brenda the pills didn’t take effect for a month after she started using them.

My parents arranged a dinner for my 16th birthday at our house. They invited Brenda, and she gave me a really nice shirt as a present.

She had passed her driver’s test that afternoon, and took me for a ride after dinner. When we got into the car she gave me a small box wrapped in gold foil wrapping paper and a gold bow. Brenda drove to the town across the river. She drove up the hill, and to the motel that had its name etched on the key in the box she gave me.

I finally figured out what my birthday gift really was. Brenda gave me her virginity (and took mine) as my real 16^th birthday present.  The Monday after my birthday surprise from Brenda, tryouts started for basketball. The coach of our rival’s freshman team won out for the varsity-coaching job at my school.

The new coach organized tryouts to the second. Drills were posted in the locker room before practice. An equipment manager ran the clock during practice to keep everything on schedule.

Coach expected us to be physical and fearless. Physical play was an advantage for me because I didn’t have the speed or skill of the older players.  I dove for loose balls on the floor without consideration for pain, and set hard picks. I soon earned the nickname “Polio” because I had “straw berries” on my legs that caused me to limp like a “cripple”.

When cuts were posted I was shocked I wasn’t on the list of junior varsity players. How could the coach forget that I shut out his hot shot scorer last season?  I was destroyed.  I was sure I had a good tryout. A senior saw my disappointed look and pointed to the varsity roster.  He told me to take a closer look. I had been selected to play on the varsity.

Brenda knew I made the team before I did. Bettie’s brother was a returning starter, and team captain. He drove to school and told Bettie when he got home that I had made varsity. Bettie immediately called Brenda. As I walked home after practice Brenda met me near the school.

She greeted me with a hug, and told me she had heard the news about making the varsity. She suggested we stop and get a Coke at the hang out. Brenda often offered me a Coke before dropping bad news on me. She told me she had made a mistake with my birthday present and we couldn’t “do it” again.

Brenda said she had told her mother about her birthday present to me. She made me promise not to pressure her for sex. Needless to say, Brenda’s news was not what I wanted to hear.

Brenda had told Bettie about the birthday “present” that she had given me. Bettie delighted in teasing me about “Brenda’s present”.  When I informed Bettie that Brenda and I were "on the wagon" Bettie said Brenda and I wouldn’t last two weeks before we did it again. Bettie reminded me I couldn’t think of anything but sex BEFORE Brenda's present. I let Bettie know I had promised to not pressure Brenda for sex.  She laughed at me.

Bettie asked me if I really thought I could abstain. She reminded me how easy it had been for her to embarrass me with her swishes. Bettie’s teasing made it easier to deal with the celibacy I faced.

The start of the season was very exciting. In fact I was so wired for the first game that I collected three fouls in the first five minutes. We lost the game by 15 points. I had won a starting position, but my contributions that night were meager. I played like a nervous sophomore.

Brenda borrowed the family car and told her mom she, Bettie, and I were going for pizza after the game. This started a tradition for Brenda, Bettie and I. Bettie rode with us to get pizza, but her folks met us at the pizzeria and took Bettie home that night.

Brenda drove up to the tree house after pizza. We “parked”. In less than five minutes we had forgotten our pledges to each other to not “do it” again. Brenda asked if I still carried the protection in my wallet. I reached into my wallet, and our hormone-driven passions took over. My month-long celibacy ended quickly.  Brenda convinced me to “play” a doubleheader.

Brenda erupted during the second half of our doubleheader. I was afraid I had hurt her. I didn’t understand. On the way home I asked Brenda to tell me if "it hurt" when we “did it”. Brenda gave me a surprising lesson in understanding the biological side of the opposite sex. 

She explained the “Q-Tip” theory to me.  She asked me if I knew what felt better when I scratched the inside of my ear with a “Q-Tip” – my ear – or the Q-Tip.  I told Brenda “my ear” and suddenly Brenda’s point sunk in.  She laughed at me.

Brenda’s stockings and garters were never more than 30 seconds from my thoughts. We visited the tree house often. I seemed to play better basketball after Brenda and I shared a passionate encounter. Brenda caught on. We often sandwiched in a “doubleheader” before and after Friday night games.

Bettie’s flirting regressed. She lost her freshman reputation as a “ball buster”. Bettie usually double dated with Brenda and I, and she grew to become a close friend of mine, too. For some reason, Bettie rarely went out with the same guy more than two times.

Brenda detailed every encounter to Bettie. Bettie often teased me about playing doubleheaders. I never shared with teammates or friends what went on between Brenda and I, and I resented Bettie knowing the details Brenda and I shared.

The intensity of the relationship Brenda and I shared continued for the next two school years. My skills and basketball performance continued to grow, although I stopped growing at 6’3”.

Bettie’s brother attended the University of Pittsburgh . He came home and took Brenda, Bettie, and I to a Pitt game one Saturday.  Afterward, we went to Pittsburgh ’s premier pizza parlor – Mineo’s. 

At Mineos, Bettie’s brother talked Bettie and Brenda into visiting Pitt for a weekend. He promised to get them dorm rooms with girls he knew, and meal passes. He even promised to take them to a party at his fraternity. I felt Bettie’s brother would protect my interests if some college guy started moving on Brenda.

Our team made it to Regional Play Offs and we opened the playoofs with a rare Saturday game..  Bettie and Brenda had gone to the University of Pittsburgh that afternoon. I missed the pre-game ritual Brenda and I had shared every game that season. Our team was outclassed, and I played poorly. We were drubbed. The 30-mile bus ride home was painful. My basketball season was over. The dream I shared with my teammates was shattered.

Brenda wasn’t there for support for the first time in two and a half years. She knew just what to say to after a loss, and she knew how to coax a smile from me. Brenda didn’t make church the next morning. I was bummed out. Brenda’s mother told me Brenda called and asked her to tell me she would get home that afternoon.

Brenda called me at five-thirty and asked me to come over after dinner. When I got to her house, Brenda ran to me and gave me a long hug. She said she heard I taken an elbow during the game and got groggy. She got a forced smile out of me, and then she dropped a “nuke” right into my heart.

Brenda said she had gone to the frat party. She told me she got drunk at they party, and then Brenda exploded in tears. When she stopped crying, she told me she had sex the night before with a guy she met at the fraternity party.

Brenda knew me well, and knew what my reaction would be to her submission to temptation. The only emotion I expressed was sadness. I didn't make a scene.   She pleaded for forgiveness. I forgave her, but she knew my feelings about loyalty. I fell into a deep funk that lasted past the prom and into summer.

Brenda had already bought her dress for the prom. I never told anyone except Pop what happened. Pain, respect for Brenda, and wounded pride kept me quiet after our break up. I still loved her deeply when we went to the prom, and the flame stilled burned for Brenda into the summer. 

Our parents tried to put us back together. My mother and father often told me how much they liked Brenda, and my mother often reminded me she had talked with Brenda. She told me dozens of times Brenda did not have another boyfriend. .

Brenda told her mother what happened, and her mother told her father. Brenda’s father worked long hours, but often attended sporting events I participated in. Brenda was the apple of his eye, and it pained him to see her hurt.

During the summer, he and Brenda came to a lot of my baseball games. He asked me to join them for Cokes after one game. He called me from work one day to talk with me about forgiving Brenda.

After church the next Sunday I told him that I had forgiven Brenda, but that I’d never get over my inability to trust her again. He said he understood, but reminded me what great a girl she was.

The breakup with Brenda provided me the opportunity to play in two baseball leagues that summer. I played American Legion baseball, and I got invited to play in the “steel league” sponsored by the steel mills. Playing in the “steel league” enabled me to get a summer job in the steel mill – which paid great money.

Two years after graduation, Bettie visited me for a weekend at college.  She worked in her father’s business instead of going to college.  Bettie told me during her visit she had set Brenda up at the Pitt frat party get Brenda seduced.  Bettie and I fell in love the following summer.  We married a year later, and have remained married for 33 years.

Brenda died in a traffic accident last week.  She, Bettie, and grew close again, after Bettie and I married.  Her death shocked and saddened us.

from Steve

Dear Mercedes, I love your site and have a memory I'd like to share.            When I was a little boy in school I had a teacher, Mrs. Hawkins, that I had a real crush on. She was in her min 30's or so with shoulder length strawberry blonde hair and though sort of plain I thought was very pretty. She had great legs and often wore dresses or slim skirts to show them off. Some of the slim skirts she wore, although past the knee, were very slim and accented her figure nicely. One day I'll never forget was when she was wearing a pencil slim dark gray wool skirt that fell just past her knees. I was early for school that day and I walked in her as she was pulling up her slim skirt to fix her stockings giving me a full view of her beautiful legs and garters. I said how sorry I was and Mrs. Hawkins quickly pulled her skirt back down and insisted it was ok. That whole day though I could not keep my eyes off her as she walked around the classroom some times sitting on the edge of her desk forcing the skirt a little bit up as it stretched tight across her knees. As luck would have it that day, I got stuck after school needing a ride home and Mrs. Hawkins offered to drive me home. I gladly accepted and was treated to another site as she climbed into the old 52 pick up she sometimes had to drive. Getting in she had to hike up her skirt giving me a good look at her pretty legs and stockings. After she was settled in and her skirt was back to where it was stretched tight across her knees she said she hoped I didn't mind if she had a little trouble driving the truck because she wasn't used to a stick shift. She was right, she did have a little problem and got it started only after pumping hard on the gas pedal a number of times. After she got the truck going Mrs. Hawkins then took out a cigarette and lit it letting out a couple of puffs as she shook out the match. For some reason that turned me the most she then struggled driving the old truck and shifting. It was quite a site watching her dressed in that slim gray wool skirt tight across her lap as she worked the clutch and shifted gears. It was something I'll always remember.

A brilliant collogue of color radiated in the summer evening sky like delicate fingers gently trace the curves of a lovers body. Evening darkness covered Mercedes as she floated in her new red German engineering wonder through the posh Minnesota resort neighborhood. The local oldie station boomed through an expensive surround sound system designed to pump reality into the soul of its listener. The familiar lyrics rang through the quiet night foretelling of events to yet to transpire. Though the poet’s popularity had waned, the song continued to hold its seductive allure "playing with the Queen of Hearts…". After what seemed an eternity at the office, her haven of rest and relaxation was now within reach. Art is both pleasure and a savage task master to the sensitive commercial artist. A longer than usual day produced some well deserved overtime on the paycheck now tucked neatly in an almost new black Gucci purse. Matching black four inch spiked heels completed the exterior picture of fashionable grace. Though not thrilled about spending so much time away from her domain, the welcomed opportunity for some extra cash, was especially appreciated, especially considering her immanent plans to spend the long upcoming three day weekend shopping at the new lingerie store in town. "Nothing was really quite as satisfying as a new pair of black seamed slinky stockings clinging to shapely legs," she breathed to herself under her breath, "especially the old fashioned sheer nylon stockings that would soon be attached to a lacy matching garter belt that in turn would be framed by the new fashioned beauty of a matching back lace thong." Breathless, was a single word that told the story. The old world of stockings and garter merged with the new world thong forming the artist’s creation and her lover’s delight.

To the normally shy and reserved Mercedes, today was a landmark in discovery. Today, Mercedes became intoxicated for the first time as she witnessed confused and irrational responses from her co-workers. The unusual response by the office crowd formed its root by a seemingly innocent unpremeditated act. Exposed to slight evidence of unmentionables on such a sleek firm body, like the form possessed by Mercedes sent shockwaves through the imaginations of those brave enough to savor such wickedly delightful thoughts. Eyes betrayed thoughts telling Mercedes that she was the object of their affection, as they fantasized that she must be cloaked in matching undergarment accessories found only in the likes of recent issues of Victoria Secrets. Her secret seemed safe enough while dressing in front of the full length mirror that morning; it apparently was no longer a secret in the minds of her new admirers. A curious world fantasized about what lovely feminine attire must be securely hidden beneath that lovely flowing veneer. The thought made her angel nature blush; all while a devilish smile turned up at the prospect of repeating her recent office show case performance. She would never return to mundane cotton; on the contrary, she would forever favor silk, lace and the pure sensual pleasures yielded to the owner and observer alike.

As Mercedes turned the two-seat magic carpet onto the long winding drive, the path meandered through the long lavish front yard like a placid stream flowing slowly but deliberately to its final destination; the entrance of her long awaited sanctuary. Keenly aware of the sensation of a second skin made of silk and nylon, she surrendered to the caress as she would a gentle lover. This was the first time she ventured into such decadence at work; she decided at the thought, this would not be her last. That morning she had made a spontaneous decision, after treating herself an unusually long hot bubble bath. Tom, her husband and lover of fourteen short years often encouraged his loving wife to live life fully, even a little on the wild side, that is, if it fancied her. The fragrance of her flowery scent caused a temporary lapse in judgment as she opened the secret drawer carefully arranged with naughty but elegant lingerie. These lavish garments were meant for those especially wonderful evenings when she teased her lover into submission as he pleaded for mercy before surrendering to her tender passion. The fabric had been careful crafted into sensual patterns and shapes that contained a magical substance whose power had yet to be unleashed on the world. At least until today.

The meticulously matched black lacy bra, garters and thong fit lightly against her smooth unblemished skin. The thought that she was wearing Tom’s favorite outfit, only heightened her mounting anticipation. It now served as an ever present reminder of her femininity and now her premeditated motive burst forth in a panoramic vision of passion. Her thoughts carried her away; in shear delight she observed men, and sometimes women starring eagerly at her long well toned legs or glancing down her black slightly opened, near transparent matching silk blouse. At lunch before leaving the ladies room in route back to the salt mines, she purposefully released one extra button of her flimsy blouse allowing any wayward eye to steal a fledging glimpse of her amply rounded cleavage. She delighted in the attention, though seldom returning advancing glances; knowing they longed to experience more. She was now content to bask in their adoration, and yielding no further to the demands of their eyes, and hopes of their imaginations.

Thoughts and memories from today served as a catalyst to fan the flames of delightful flowering fantasies that were even now being conjuring as a mystical potion. Considering the real possibilities of an evening filled with wanton pleasure with her loving mate and friend, she fanned the flames of love that swelled in her nurturing bosom. He would have his fill, she thought with a twinkle in her eye.

Her dream state came unexpectedly to at abrupt halt as her fantasy stopped cold in its tracks, she recognized three familiar vehicles lying in front of her nest like unwanted vagrants at a black tie event. "It can’t be" she moaned as she bites her lower lip furrowing her brow in disbelief. In the fleeting instant that followed, one of the vagrants caught her eye, only slightly peaked her curiosity as her disappoint continued its crescendo. A new additional vehicle seemed to have found its way into the lineup of usual suspects that appeared as if by magic in front of her home every forth Thursday evening of each month. They rested quietly, awaiting the return of their friendly but sometimes over energetic and boisterous owners. "Oh no!" Her voice finally broke again in grave disappointment; "its card night for the boys". How could she have forgotten? This ritual seemed to follow the pattern of the full moon, with much the same effect, unpredictable!

Traffic was a bit trying but tonight even that hadn’t dampen her resilient spirit. She fully anticipated living out her fantasy of today’s wonder. Fantasy had nearly been turned into a reality, at least as much of one as she thought she could live. She had been conjuring up an evening of epic proportions for Tom on the on the long pilgrimage back to reality. He would never know what had hit him; she had only a few moments prior being plotting. She had thought, perhaps she would have him role play one of the handsome co-workers who seemed to give her all the attention she dared accept for one day. She wanted desperately to tell him about all the glances and stares and all the flirtatious comments from Bill, John and yes even the new girl Sherri.

Sherri is the new administrative assistant in the office, to say she is well proportioned is an understatement of cosmic proportions. She possessed a natural beauty observed by women who know potential but missed by men without perception. Sherri seems to limit her appeal to the male masses by purposefully sparing portions of makeup and engineering her attire in such an unflattering way that it would take superman to see the potential, let alone her shapely frame. She is the type who should own stock in a cotton underwear company given her apparent fixation on "the blah" and comfort factor. To the unaware observer, Sherri seems an innocent young newly married woman seeking to be accepted, but not achieving the desired result. The young woman lowered herself to engaging in colorful and sometimes seeming flirtatious comments to men in the office, only to receive a penitence of acceptance. Most men really didn’t take her very seriously, which seemed to openly disappoint the young women’s starving ego. Women on the contrary knew the potential that lay wasted on the naive owner of such an underutilized asset. She really could be a striking beauty many would say to closed doors or being veiled smiles. Few could compete if she would only release her power from within.

Today, with the magic turned to full volume, Mercedes for the first time caught the young veiled beauty looking longingly at her slightly open blouse. Sherri is married; though today she seemed to have more than a passing interest in Mercedes. Surely Sherri was not attracted to her, was she? Mercedes was amused at that thought; why are women even under what seems like a magic spell. Tom would get a kick out of this revelation. Before today, she wondered about the sixty four thousand dollar question, "Why are men so fixated on woman to woman relationships, especially when stockings and garters are so prominent in the fantasy? Perhaps it is the doubling of power that holds its seductive spell" This was clearly not Mercedes’ cup of tea so to speak, but it would make for interesting conversation, perhaps more heated than usual. Mercedes is a student of her lover and knows how to exploit his desires to heighten his and her own pleasures. The loving couple often fantasizes openly about what would happen if she wore her special outfits to work, how people would respond to a seductive flash and how she would react to a come-on from some handsome guy. Fantasy had made a journey to the side of reality and may never go back again. She hoped that it would not.

Well, fantasy had become reality in a small way today and she craved the privacy of their bedroom to share it all with him; slowly, spilling every juicy detail on the table, creating and winding her own embellishments of flirtatious come-ons, invitations and "innocent" hugs, prying eyes that seemed to undress her, slowly and gently. Today, she even surprised herself by allowing her short split skirt to rise up to her stocking tops for a few moments when she sat on the high stool positioned at the drafting table. This antic did not go without notice and delight of a few of her peers. This would be etched in their dreams tonight.

Well, so much for the fun an excitement she had already lived out in her imagination during the day and in the quite moments between songs on the now lonely remaining pilgrimage into the house. "So, we will just have to wait" she sighed to herself as the garage door rose to welcome her return to the castle. Mercedes slid from behind the driver’s seat scooping a bag of groceries that had been riding comfortably the one passenger seat. Her skirt slipped up revealing lacy and wonton desire. Feeling almost betrayed by her rising passion, she regained her composure, tugged at the hem of her stylish skirt, picked up the packaged contents she had acquired at the local market on the way home. These were to have been the elements needed in preparation of a lovely candle light dinner that would not happen; at least not tonight. As she struggled with the burden, she whispered out loud, "Where is a bag boy when you need him?" It seemed that she received a great deal more service than usual as she finished her shopping at the local supermarket as two young bag boys fought over the privilege to escort her to the parking lot. She rewarded the winning young man as she took precious time leaning over adjusting her cargo just so. She was breathing heavier as hungry eyes explored the curves of her breasts down to the lacy low cut bra protecting its charge. He was in shock, she was in heaven; she senses the strong direct control she now had, for an instant, she shared her passion and delight with the young suitor. She now tucked the makings of what would have been a romantic dinner close to her side with her left arm, picking up her art case, fumbled with the door and with both grace and balance making her entrance known.

As the door knob turned, so did the heads of every man around the heavily populated game table. The sounds of oldie rock music filled the room, creating a festive setting for all to enjoy. It was obvious from the half devoured potato chip bag and fully consumed pitcher of beer that the occupants of the dormant vehicles started playing their game of skill and chance earlier than usual. Plastic poker clips of red, white and blue were stacked neatly in front of each challenger as they guarded their horde of treasure until the next hand would either diminish or replenish its contents. The men were all dressed in summer card game casual attire of tee shirts and shorts. The stakes were usually five or ten dollar limit depending on the mood and well being of each household represented. Tonight the stakes were higher that anyone would ever know. The sound of rushing water coming from the direction of bathroom announced that Tom would soon emerge since his presence was not accounted for among the regular den of gamblers and owners of vagrant vehicles.

It was obvious that no one was concentrating on the cards clutched tightly and upright in their now sweaty hands. Mercedes gracefully sashayed from the entrance and approached the table where Tom’s regulars and a handsome young stranger were congregated. This must be the owner of the unaccounted for vintage vehicle perched like a vulture in a tree filled with dove. Each man present stared open mouthed and hypnotically nodded a greeting to their host’s arriving wife as she set the unwieldy burden on the bar directly in front of the now enchanted men. All was a little too quite for her immediate comfort. Their attention was intensely focused in the direction of a heaving bust line. Quickly glancing in the direction of their unexpected attention, Mercedes only then noticed her blouse had taken a mind of its own and had somehow became further unleashed by the package cradled protectively at her side. Her intentional action after lunch had now produced an unexpected benefit for the mesmerized men caught in her unintentionally constructed web of lace, silk and black straps. She was their capturer and they her prisoners, she was now experiencing more than she had originally purposed with an audience who would not soon forget this instant in time. By accident or unconscious intent, she was now fully revealing her round luscious right breast that was trying desperately to escape the lacy nearly see through super low cut push-up bra. She felt their eyes roam over and caress her exposed flesh; her nipple was now pressing against the elastic material and nearly earned its freedom and exposure to hungry eyes and dry mouths. In an instant, Mercedes boiled with both uncontrolled excitement and embarrassment; her cheeks blushed crimson, her body burned with a mounting pressure that made her knees slightly buckle. In an unappreciated reflex that she wished she could have controlled longer, her hand flew to the rescue of the wayward treasure of delight. She quickly turned around, secured her blouse; much to the disappointment of everyone in the room, including Mercedes and the handsome young stranger, who only smiled a sheepish shy smile in her direction, then cast his eyes down as if a scolded school boy seeing something forbidden. Her eyes were captured by the depth and honesty of his slate blue eyes; she was intrigued by his strong chiseled face. In an instant, her embarrassment was transformed to attraction; breathlessly; she was deeply aroused by this brief unexpected moment in time that would soon become her secret fantasy. Mercedes loved her husband but somehow this new power gave her new freedom to captivate and control those around her, especially this handsome young stranger. She would never betray the love of her life, but she is a woman with deep passions and desires and loved the attention brought by her new power. She enjoyed the control and dominance that her presence commanded. She was forever transformed into a new woman.

No sooner had Mercedes started to recover from her bitter sweet experience than Tom, emerged as predicted to bring order from chaos. He was delighted to witness the presence of his sweet wife, home from a hard day at work. His job was more flexible then hers since he owned a business employing technicians such as those gathering their senses from a recent revelation not shared by their boss. He knew Mercedes well and immediately sensed something was not quite normal. However, today he was stunned even more by her beauty than normal; something was unusual, not quite in place, his desire for his beautiful wife seemed more intense today for some reason; her countenance was sexy, confident, innocent and devilish all at the same time. He froze as if shot with liquid nitrogen; as Mercedes turned and begun unloading the contents of her trouble making bundle, he traced her body line down, like every other man in the room. His eyes pleasant journey stopped as his heart skipped a beat; he witnessed seemed black slinky stockings usually reserved for private moments, clinging tightly to his lover’s legs. As Mercedes head turned half around sensing each man undress her with their eyes, Mercedes locked on to Tom’s as if to say "Yes my darling, your fantasy is reality, I am adorned in delight for you tonight." His mind froze at the prospect as he was torn between kicking out his buddies and winning back his diminished pile of chips and equally diminished pride. He was clearly not the winner tonight, at least not right now.

Tom’s buddies were acting more like little boys whose hand was caught in the cookie jar, than his long time amigos or employees. These same guys only a few minutes earlier were joking and conducting themselves like adolescent teenagers on a rampage rather than the full grown men they physically appeared to be. "So what gives" was his best shot at uncovering the truth cloaked in crimson faces. To their delight and relief, Mercedes came to their rescue. "Boys will be boys Tom and men are just little naughty curious boys". Tom really did not get her meaning nor did he seem that interested in uncovering more of the matter just now. His mind raced to prospects of monetary gain in the night; after all there were cards still to deal and money to win back. Today was not his lucky day, he thought to himself. Little did he know that his luck would soon be turning for the better! He had actually lost most of his loot and was eager to retrieve his money from the hands of these turkeys he claimed as both employees and friends. He especially wanted to capture the tall pile of winnings that filled his newest part-time employee’s stronghold.

Everyone’s attention was reluctantly diverted back to the cards, beer and poker chips; their shocking reward for merely being alert and in the right place at the right time was becoming a faint fantasy in the night; everyone’s attention was redirected from their boss’ wife’s revealed beauty, that is except for the attention of the young stranger. His eyes continued to linger on Mercedes’ firm figure, eyes that seemed to slowly undress and caress her, strangely enough, not in a lewd or disrespectful way but clearly with the unlikely hope of another glimpse of Mercedes’ beauty in lace. A simple slight smile from Mercedes’ full luscious lips and sparkle of lingering eye contact sparked a passionately deep hope within his very being. His mind no longer on the game in front of him, was diverted to the game being played out beyond the table. Mercedes ignited his passion further as she joined in and began to win at his game. "How could I be so bold with my new bosses’ wife?" He scolded himself in thought. After all Dan and his wife were new to the community, having moved to the resort town temporarily to so he could complete his first novel and to work part time as a ski instructor and part time in Tom’s technology company. His wife, a secretary for a web development and internet service provider company in the area, seemed to have a hard time making friends. Now here he was flirting with a woman ten years his senior though she looked to be his own wife’s age. She was certainly more famine, confident and sexy than his wife. Somehow, she was powerful, in control, and in a strange but wonderful inexplicit way held his imagination in high gear. He felt dizzy, as he listened to the sound of his own heart pounding. If only his twenty-five year old wife looked this good, he pondered over the next hand of cards. She is really wonderful, cute, in a boyish kind of way. If only she was brave enough, or sexy enough to dress in such a stimulating manner. The young man’s imagination drifted to the events earlier as he played and replayed the experience over and over in his impressionable mind. Yes that would be an unforgettable event; to see his own wife partially exposed and remain confident enough to control the situation that would be an experience to savor for his life. Surely she would do that if she only understood the power it held over him and the men around him. He would have to somehow tell her, encourage her. But his dilemma was to discover how? She was very straight laced woman; she actually wore very conservative underwear even on their wedding day. The night that followed was no better, she took forever to get her into bed. That experience was not exactly exciting for her. She seemed to bare it but not enjoy the experience. Her idea of sexy was an up the neck gown with the lights out. No, he corrected himself; lace was not in the picture. She was too shy to even change in front of him. He was clearly her first and only lover, for that he was grateful. But he longed for a more passionate relationship. They had to make love in with the lights out and in silence. Was it him, was he so grotesque to her that she did not find him attractive. But here is a wonderfully sexy woman who had captured his imagination, his passion, his desire to experience and see more. Perhaps he could find the courage or perhaps have someone help her to discover this power. But who? Mercedes image burned forever in his memory, much the way any incredible event or image becomes an integral part of your soul. It was much like the first date, the first love of your life, or the first time you are brave enough to kiss your date and you receive a kiss in return. It was what he longed for his own bride. He felt both guilt and excitement both intensely and both at the same moment.

After a few hands, some bad jokes and a quick sandwich, Mercedes opened a fresh bottle of Riesling wine and retired into the living room to catch up on a little reading. Her mind was not on the book but on the experiences leading up to the trill of having Tom’s friends catch her in the compromising pose. As she lingered on the thought, she pondered the events recently laid behind her. Wasn’t she supposed to feel guilty for enjoying the events? She concluded that they were harmless accidents, or were they? She confessed to herself that she had enjoyed them fully, wonderfully and wanted them to happen again and again. Her thoughts sorted out the events of fellow co-workers, the bag boys, and familiar strangers at lunch, her husband’s buddies and yes now her young admirer entwined in her web of lace, silk and black nylon stockings. It had all been a rush of pleasure and power; she wanted more. Her senses were aroused and she knew the young challenger wanted to play a new game.

Perhaps it was best to reveal her treasures to complete strangers, like Tom encouraged in their fantasies when they made love. So, she concluded, she is not alone, he also enjoys that fantasy. How would he react when she told him of her office escapades, the bag boy and now the "accident" with his friends? She would have to tell him, wouldn’t she? Yes, of course. They had no secrets between them. After the second glass of wine, she knew that she would have to tell him about Dan and her response to him and his apparent response to her. Would he be jealous and angry or would it be a thrill for him to think that this young man was attracted to this loving wife.

As the night progressed, two of Tom’s friends were cleaned out by the young bandit as he swept their holdings to his side of the table further building his war chest. Two of Tom’s oldest friends and remaining amigos tried to repartition the chips more evenly, both failed at their hard fought struggle. Tom had regained some of his losses but not enough to come back to even. Finally, Bill, Tom’s long time fishing buddy had his clock cleaned by the young stranger in one daring hand as he tried and failed in a bluff that even a blind dog could see through. He departed for home with his tail between his legs leaving the stranger with his extra cash and Tom with a growing intent to continue and prevail in their struggle to capture the now massive stack of chips accounting now to a little over five thousand dollars between them. Tom was impressed by the skill and cunning of his young challenger. Tom was usually the "big dog" at the table but tonight he had finally met a worthy opponent. Bent to leather on winning more than a fair share of the chips lying docile on the table, he was also aware that time was not his friend. His mind had not been on the game all night. He like the stranger was considering the slender goddess in black as she came into the game room to watch the final payoff between the two titans.

As Mercedes poured the final contents from the bottle into her wine glass, it did not go unnoticed by Tom. This was out of character for the usually conservative lady of the house, who seldom drank more than one glass at dinner. The wine had its desired effect, as Mercedes leaned against bar immediately behind Tom so she could read his cards in an attempt to help her judge the potential outcome and reward of the next hand. This placed her strategically in line of sight with the stranger and where Tom, unless he turned fully around, could not see his lovely wife. He sensed her presence none the less. Her thoughts drifted to the events earlier in the evening. She was hooked on the feeling of sensual power. She also had concocted a mischievous plan to help her husband in his desperate struggle with the young stranger, she would help him over his challenger and capture his treasure; the one on the table and the one perched on the bar stool immediately behind him. As Tom dealt the cards, his attention was intensely focused on the table, the stranger and the action taking place in front of him. Dan’s attention was distracted to the game immediately in front of him, beyond the card table, and behind his host.

Mercedes "innocently" leaned forward as is if to see her husband’s card hand. As she did so, she intentionally caught Dan’s eyes as he explored the richness of her firm breasts, partially exposed, visible through the fine translucent fabric; the tops of her firm breasts now peeking out of her flowing black low buttoned blouse. His heart nearly stopped as Mercedes lifted his eyes with her own as her right hand, moved under a power of its own. Her long red painted finger tips playfully released another button expanding the view of an already dangerously low position. This strategic move gave both of her lace covered breasts opportunity to slowly dance into full view of the half open, dry mouthed stranger. Though still partially covered by her favorite low cut push up lacy bra, the act served the immediate purpose of distracting the concentration of the young man well enough for Tom to take the hand with little resistance; much to Mercedes’, Dan’s and Tom’s delight. All were pleased with the outcome but for far different but equally satisfying motives. Mercedes returned to the refrigerator and opened a second bottle of wine. The stakes were now rising. Dan thoroughly enjoying the exchange dealt the cards with a new zeal. This time, he won a small pot in a quick exchange of wills. Mercedes punished his victory mercilessly by buttoning one button of her flimsy nearly transparent blouse and winked at the disappointed young man wagging her sensual finger at him then running it along her lip line. She ran her tongue over her glistening red lips covered with gloss applied in an ample amount to stimulate the senses for the next exchange. Tom not wanting to be outdone by this young buck so he dealt the next hand with deep intensity, as Mercedes leaned over, unbuttoned her black silk blouse slowly once again to reveal the treasures within as her eye captured the young man’s intensity. She ran her painted nails over the intersection between lace and smooth skin, tracing the curve of her breast with her long painted finger nail. She then lifted her finger to her matching red lips to wet her finger. The intended effect was immediate. This time, the young novelist lost, and he lost big time. Mercedes feeling especially generous delighted the growing fan by running her wet finger once again across her red lips and began treating her hidden hardened nipple to a sensual message beneath her thin lacy bra. She looked Dan straight in his bewildered eyes and in one smooth motion, slipped the cup of her bra down her ample breast stopping just short of revealing her wet, hard nipple. Dan’s eye followed the sensual curve of her breast to the point where reality turned to imagination as he completed in his mind the motion that Mercedes had abruptly stopped. Like magic, he could see her lovely full sensitive nurturing curves beneath the now punishing lace that separated his reality from her full delight. She could see in his eyes that his imagination had finished what she had started and his mind’s eye was not far from reality. It was absolute delight for both.

She had never done anything like this and he had never witnessed anything like this before. Was it the wine, the day dressed in such a sexy sensual way, or some new power that wielded up within her heart? Dan almost lost control of his faculties, as another hand fell victim to Tom’s skill and Mercedes’ much appreciated attention. His loss was his reward. Mercedes moved like a sleek cat around the bar, with the unveiling action behind still undetected by the new winner. As the cards were being divided for another round, she established herself on the bar stool behind Tom once again. This gave Dan a clear shot of her long silky legs. As Dan’s treasure diminished on the table, his reward was being reaped in clear view, in front of him as Mercedes raised her skirt to reveal the tops of her stockings, up to her garters, with the great reward including the fully exposure of her lacy thong. Turning she provided a view of her lovely hips and bottom. She fully rose up to give him a picture perfect view. Mercedes and her prey were both captivated and entangled by the events unfolding before them. With this new danger for both of them, doing something so dangerous and intriguing, their passion rollup together as one. If they survived, neither would be the same after tonight. Tom was winning and he was delighted, he did not want the magic to stop. Nor did they.

Then like mystical orchestration to a dance of sensual pleasure, the song "Queen of Hearts" entered her new realm again for the second time tonight, as if on queue Mercedes finger traced under the top and leg bands of her black thong with her right wet finger. She shook her long hair down until it covered the tips of her breasts, much to Dan’s disappointment. But his patience was rewarded as Mercedes released her front bra clasp, allowing it to fall free to fully expose the bottom of her other jealous breasts, both passionate treasures struggling with no success to allow open access for her captive’s viewing pleasure. She kept the final destination of exploration for herself. She messaged her hard nipple under the cover of her golden long locks as the young man continued to bet heavily, betting most that he had, hoping against all odds to get a glimpse of one of her lovely nipples. Mercedes passion built as her free hand disappeared into the semi-transparent silk lace thong as her hand and breathing keep time with her new theme song flowing freely from the radio. Her head back; most of her breasts and all of her black stocking clad legs exposed in front of the young man’s pleading eyes. It was beyond intoxicating, it was the place where fantasy becomes reality, where dreams are never forgotten, all apparently to her disappointment, beyond the immediate knowledge of her loving husband who was playing out his hand like a starving shark attaching its unknowing prey. As the music struck its final notes, Mercedes quickly gathered herself together, not wanting the moment to be spoiled by a shocked response. She took one last risk by quickly turning around removing her bra completely, buttoning her silk blouse to the position that started this unexpected evening. Pointed nipples pressed through the thin divine material, leaving the young man with a complete picture of sexual elegance.

As Tom racked in the last pot from the middle of the table, he took the last of the stranger’s fortune, he smiled, shock hands with the younger man across the battlefield that had now reverted back to a game table; both men smiled at one another, as both men had Mercedes on his mind. Dan thought to himself, Tom sorely neglected his sweet wife all night; he must have thought she was bored stiff. In reality, Tom was really looking forward to sharing a warm bed with his lover as soon as he could get the young man on his way. The phone in the back room rang as the young man got up to leave empty handed, but not empty hearted. Much to his excitement and delight as Dan walked toward the door, Tom asked Mercedes of she would be so kind as to show the young man to the door while he answered the phone in the back. "After all, it’s only polite to show our guest out properly," Mercedes reasoned out loud.

Mercedes seemed to have a supernatural power; she sensed that Dan would be the perfect gentleman. This new and growing power grew strong and her senses were perplexing, but perhaps it had been granted her somehow. She almost seemed to assume a royal command. Her sense was right, Dan thanked Mercedes for the wonderful evening, extending his hand as a gentlemen. In fact, he was so intoxicated from the experience that he began to believe what had happened was a dream, a fantasy of some type. He told her that although he was leaving empty handed, he was now really leaving with a new appreciation for her power, he was a now a devoted subject of Mercedes, as he proclaimed her "Queen of Stockings".

Mercedes leaned close to the young man, he felt as if she almost melted into him. He could sense her sweet breath on his cheek, the sharp firm tips of her nipples pressed through her black silk blouse and his thin cotton tee shirt. Her stocking clad right leg slipped slightly between his legs. His senses exploded with the feel of her nylon stockings on his bare legs. She felt his response, and enjoyed the sensation of his leg pressing against her leg, then garter and thong. She took control and kissed him feather lightly on the cheek leaving a perfect impression of her luscious lips. His mind imagined how it would be if she would only kiss him on the lips and allow her sharp tongue to part his lips seeking a deeper joy. He would never experience this delight. She slowly pulled away looking intently in the young man’s longing eyes that cried desperately for more, but knowing that she could never be his prize. Surprising Dan and herself, from a deep power from within, she guided his trembling hand as it made its long journey inside of her half opened blouse, coming to rest against her warm beating heart at the top of her curved breast. He was powerless and almost fainted from her presence as he felt the warmth of her gentle but strong spirit. She surprised herself again and her devoted follower by lifting her black split skirt taking his free hand guiding it over the long silky road to the top of her stocking where the journey ended at the refreshing oasis where the stocking and garter become one. She boldly slipped his now trembling hand under the black lacy garter strap and held it there as she again leaned into him and seductively whispered to him, you are my captive, my new royal subject "Secret Subject of the Queen of Stockings". She then kissed him lightly on the cheek, leaving a second red imprint on the opposite side of where her lips had once been. She lowered both of his hands and whispered that she would be his fantasy but that he must now go home and make passionate and gentle love to his wife. The young man slighted turned as if to leave, and then returning to face his unusual hostess, in a boyishly shy way. "Would you and Tom consider coming over to my house for dinner tomorrow night. I would deeply appreciate it if you could meet my wife. We are new in town and she really needs a friend." Mercedes smiled at him extended her hand to shake his establishing a new and permanent boundary. Dan immediately received the unspoken message. "We would be delighted to accept your invitation" Mercedes purred "what is the dress attire?" "What about I leave that to your capable hands Dan responded departing a happy and somehow magically fully satisfied man. Clearly Mercedes was now in possession of an unusual super power that must be used wisely.

Mercedes had her own reward to give to the victor of treasures. He was about to cash in on the best hand he held all night. Tom would never believe that not just one but two of his favorite fantasies had become reality tonight. Mercedes strolled through the game room, walked over to the bar stool where her wildest fantasy was played out. She froze in her tracks. As her hand tightly gripped the arm on the bar stool. There it was, on the wall behind where the young man sat; she was stunned to see a perfect reflection of her own image in the mirror across the room. How could she have not seen it before? Tom would have had to be blind not to see the whole show, right before his very eyes. As she stood and pondered this new startling revelation, her growing fears were soon forgotten; she felt the familiar warm embrace of the true love of her life as he embraced her from the back, kissing the back of her neck. His hand explored familiar but still newly exciting territory as he reach around her waist, found the top button on her blouse and released it to allow him easier access to his treasure. He gently slipped his hand over her heart, cupping her willing left breast in his hand. Her nipple surrendered to his gentle touch. "We have an invitation for dinner tomorrow night" Mercedes hoarsely whispered to her life partner and soul mate. "So you know". "I know" was his quite but excited response. "What shall we wear?" Mercedes considered as she contemplated to herself in a dream like state. He reached around sporting her lacy bra in his hand, a wicked smile appearing on his face, his cell phone in the other. He did know how to speed dial. She slowly lifted her skirt it to expose the tops of her stockings while pressing harder against him and to her relief and delight felt his growing excitement against her firm uncovered buttocks. He was captivated by a growing intense passion devouring her clear image in the mirror strategically positioned across the room. Fantasies of his own playing like a wonderfully familiar movie in his mind, but this time it was recounting an experience not a dream. She took his hand in hers guiding it along the familiar silk road with the journey ending at the oasis were her stocking met the smooth flesh of her leg at the clasp of her garter. She slipped his hand under the black lacy garter strap and held it there with her own covering it. He whispered in her ear how he won a treasure tonight and how he had become "Captain of the guard for the Queen of Stockings". She giggled, smiled faintly to herself and eagerly yielded to his advance.

As the morning sky exploded in brilliant colors, Mercedes traveled back in time to the evening’s events. The wonderful selection of intimate pink lingerie that her captain had laid out during her morning shower met her highness’ willing approval. How thoughtful she concluded as she contemplated a lovely evening getting to know new friends.

Mercedes floated on air, lost in thought, half present in the future and half in the thoughts of the night’s events. She strolled past the new office administer who was obvious locked in a more than casual conversation, with one of their co-workers Ann. With grate disappointment Sherri mourned, "I can’t believe he forgot our anniversary!" was all Mercedes caught as she strolled by. Ann further invaded Mercedes thought as she echoed a tone of encouragement, trying to lift the spirits of her young friend. "Well at his Dan’s new friends are coming to dinner tonight, that sounds fun" Sherri’s face seemed to reflect a ray of hope but countered with her on volley, "He invited them without asking me first, just like a man, forgetting our most important day together. I don’t understand why he’s so insensitive, it’s like he doesn’t even see me." Ann dragged Mercedes from the fringe of conversation into the middle. Mercedes, what would you suggest Sherri do?" Sherri chimed in with more hope. "What should I wear?" "Dan really likes his new friend and his friend’s wife made a positive impression on him, he said I could learn a lot from her." The overhead page boomed Ann’s name sending her dashing to her office to catch the phone, leaving Sherri and Mercedes locked in conversation. Customers seemed to have such poor timing she thought.

Sherri’s eyes turned to Mercedes, this time with a little more sparkle as she returned her new friend’s smile. Then she confessed her fears in trust as if to a life long friend. "Last night, Dan came home with red lipstick on both of creeks. I confronted him and he gave me a lame excuse that his hostess kissed his cheeks as he departed. But he was so affectionate last night, he couldn’t have been messing around, at least I hope not. Mercedes what do you think? Can you help me with what to prepare tonight, I want this to be a special night?"

Mercedes’ head was spinning with anticipation. Was she ready for a student? Perhaps her new power would help; she couldn’t wait to discover where this new adventure would lead.

The End --- Chapter One

© 2004 Duckville Publishing, all rights reserved. Use by Permission.

We meet at bar in Chicago. It was cold and wintry night, but she was wearing a short skirt and nylon stockings. That is what caught my eye. Her name was Carol. I bought her a drink, and told her how refreshing it is to see a woman who knows what vintage glamour is. She smiled and said are you a leg man? By far legs are the best part of the female anatomy was my reply. She was wearing spiked high heel pumps that really made her legs look good. After a while she invited up to her place on north Michigan avenue for a night cap. When we arrived she pointed to the bar and said make me a vodka martini. She said she had been in those nylons all day and had to freshen up. As I made her drink I could hear the shower running. It took some time before she came out. But I could hear the slapping of her shoe's on the floor and the bottom of her feet. She was wearing spiked high heel mules and RH&T off black stockings and a black slip. We sat down on the couch, then she removed one mule. This may be shocking to non leg men. But she put the sole of her foot, in stockings, in my face and said make love to me. I have never been so aroused in my life. We are married with children now, but still her feet in rh&t stockings....George

                                        My Awakening by Jhon                            SEPTEMBER'S WINNER

When I was in high school, I lived in Switzerland where my father had been transferred to work in the European headquarters of an American company. At first I went to a private Swiss school, but changed to a Catholic boarding school after my first year. The Catholic school was in a nearby city, an easy train ride of about an hour.

The train is where the fun began for me. I can remember relishing the thought of taking the train because of the unique seating pattern—and the potential to enjoy views of women’s legs and stockings! Swiss trains in the early 1970s were still designed so passengers faced each other, three to a row. Swiss women often wore skirts and nylons.

I would start my trips by scouting out the crowd waiting for the train. Were there any particularly attractive females waiting to board? If so, I would linger in the vicinity of the pretty passenger in hopes of taking a seat across from her on the train. After several trips, I was adept at finding my way to the most pleasant of surprises—the presence of an unsuspecting, attractive woman sitting in my view.

Naturally, I was very self-conscious and did not want to be caught spying on pretty woman. Sometimes it would take me fifteen minutes to catch a furtive look at the particular woman across from me. It was always easier to look at her shoes and ankles, as I could fake a snooze or a seemingly natural downward-cast glance. I wanted to look at legs and study the stockings and the skirts covering them. And yes, the difficulty in casting a bold look at the target of my interest made the situation that much more exciting. When I did catch a look, I usually reveled in the mysterious beauty of the opposite sex and retreated into fantasy. I never dared speak nor look for too long.

One particular ride I happened to face a very relaxed, attractive woman down two seats from me in the same compartment area. She was of medium stature and brown hair, maybe 35 to 40 years old. She smiled at me as soon as she noticed me—and I was just a sixteen-year-old adolescent enthralled by the marvels of women’s legs, shoes, stockings—and more! Her friendliness emboldened me to notice what she was wearing. I remember the loose red blouse, opened an extra button and pushed firmly out despite a loose fit. Over the blouse was an open navy jacket, which was often pulled back to allow for a crossing of legs and a repositioning of her bottom, an exciting movement in itself! Her openness did not relax me at all: I was too young, anxious, and sexually immature to ever dream of smiling back. No, I was locked into stealing looks at her and her tight skirt over nylons.

The first surprise to me was that this woman was, as I mentioned, so carefree in her body language, not typical of Swiss women. She frequently crossed her legs, and I could hear the rustling of her hose and skirt. I was amazed to discover, eventually, that her skirt showed both the firm roundness of her thighs and derriere, as was as the outline of what I could see were garters under the skirt.

With someone so confident and free as she was, I did begin to look at her more boldly and frequently, enjoying the wonderful sexiness of her look, manner and dress. My sneak-looks at her made for an immediate physical reaction, and I became aware of revealing my own sexuality--with my penis growing and pushing against my pants.

As the trip advanced, the other passengers seemed oblivious to both me and her, and I started to look at her more and more. I noticed that her skirt was rising ever so little—but noticeably, nevertheless. For a good while, she closed her eyes to sleep, but she surprised me suddenly when she opened her eyes and found me looking at her legs. My visual intrusion did not affect her negatively at all; in fact, she seemed to relax more into her seat and then smiled gently off into the other direction.

I renewed my stares, and imagined the incredible experience of touching her legs and stockings, reaching for the garter and beyond—or, more precisely, above. My sexual awakening was so intense, and I enjoyed it with abandon and lust as I had never known.

After another prolonged period of studying her, I looked out the window next to where she was sitting, saw her reflection and realized that she was watching me stare at her. Again, she did not react negatively. She crossed her legs once again, but this time I could actually see the top of a stocking; as she relaxed, her skirt lifted to where I detected her garter connected to her stocking.

By this time I could feel my own wetness. My arousal was full and deep. I looked at my passenger whenever I wanted. She never flinched. I looked and looked and looked. She let me. She smiled off in the other direction but for me.

Finally, I could feel the train momentum change, and instead of the free moving, heavy, slick and determined weight of the engine’s moving forward, there was a slow decline, with a release of speed and motion as we came to the station.

The passengers around me quickly stood and exited, except for the woman. She gathered her blouse, touched her skirt and pulled her jacket a little as she stood. As I sat there transfixed, she left me with a wide, loving, accepting smile—unprovoked by anything more than her having enjoyed being the object of my longings.

From that day, I have worshiped the woman who dresses in fine clothes and loves the presence of an adoring male. My awakenings on that train are my full joy today as I am a man who adores stockings, garters, blouses on the woman who adores wearing them for me.

My favorite stockings story is I admit almost thirty years old but goes back to the days – the early seventies - soon after we got married. I don’t honestly know why Phil and me got married. Yes, we were in love with each other but in the permissiveness of those birth pill times we had come to value our freedom – of thought, action and sex! We were both very much party animals and we loved sex, our friends were great company, libidinous and all good looking yet here we were, in a one-to-one relationship. It didn’t make an awful lot of sense and it didn’t take long before we started to swing with other the marrieds in our group of friends, eventually widening it out to meet and enjoy the company of total strangers, young marrieds like us, as well as mid-aged couples.

Soon after Phil and I got hitched, he bought me some black seamed stockings, black garter belt and matching panties and bra. Since, like most females, I’d switched in the mid sixties to pantyhose to facilitate enjoying wearing mini and micro-length skirts as well as cutaway hot pants, wearing stockings in public was a ‘no-no’. So, I put them on for him in bed. I couldn’t believe the transformation. He went from a great lover to a fabulous lover! His manhood was decidedly bigger, he launched into some great, almost endless and very satisfying foreplay, some amazing cunnilingus, kissing the pointed heels of my stockings, then the welts, garter hooks, before easing away my panties and consummating his desire, delaying his orgasm far longer than I’d expected. I was suitably impressed!

A few days later he came home with some more goodies – dark brown seamed stockings - this time paired with a full set of dark brown lingerie and a little fine gold chain which he clipped onto my left ankle. Once again, the sex was truly amazing. The foreplay was out of this world. I’d been serviced like this by other men, mainly older more suave and sophisticated types I’d swung with, but never experienced anything like this with Phil before and – for a second night - wished for it not to end!

It didn’t take me too long to start thinking about wearing stockings on other occasions than in bed to fire Phil’s libido. In my naivety I had absolutely no idea that stockings turned men on in such a way! I’d worn stockings with seams in the late fifties, when I first started working, and recall countless young cute guys off the shop floor, older married ones from the offices, groping me, fumbling over stockings and hooks, but I paid no real heed to that since I assumed that all they really wanted to do was get into my panties. The good looking ones invariably did, while the older guys and not so good-lookers got a blow job!

So, I asked Phil if he’d object to me occasionally wearing stockings to work. His eyes lit up! Bingo! “No, honey, you go right ahead!” So I bought four skirts, all knee length, in flannel, black, tan and plaid, a Stewart tartan. Two were tight, pencil numbers with back slits, the other two were flounced ‘A’ line designs. I also invested in more seamed stockings – black, dark brown, mid brown, nude, white – in a variety of heels from pointed to Cuban, along with a new wardrobe of lingerie to match my new collection of stockings.

When he got home I showed Phil my day’s shopping. He was ecstatic! He demanded that I lengthen the back slits on the pencil skirts. “Really? Won’t that show too much darling?” He smiled knowingly. The rascal! What did he want his wife to look like? You couldn’t obviously see stocking seams below the hem of the skirt but above - well, the lengthened slit appeared to reveal stocking tops as I walked, like some dumb model, up and down, across the bedroom floor, Phil sitting in the armchair obviously relishing the moment. It didn’t take long before he had his pants open and his burgeoning manhood on display. I slipped out of the skirt, fell on the floor in front of him, brought my mouth down over Phil’s long fat girth and gave him some slow, relaxing, enjoyable head.

Now in the early seventies life was pretty uptight. The swinging sixties had come and gone and people were just as repressed as ever. I worked in a small family law firm. The senior partner was old man Joe McCloughlin, the junior partners were his son Troy and Rosita, and I guess Joe was late fifties, while Troy and Rosita were early thirties. The core value of the firm was gravitas at all times, along with dedication to the client and a complete lack of emotion. Not surprisingly, nobody noticed that I had switched overnight from wearing short skirts to long skirts teamed with black seamed stockings, the gilt ankle chain - barely perceptible under the nylon of my stockings -and high heels. Or so I thought.

About three weeks later I was in with Joe taking some dictation when he asked me to go and get a law book from the top shelf of his bookcase. Up the ladder I went and eventually found the volume. Then I realized why he had asked me to go and get the book! He wanted to get a good view of my seamed stockings! I laughed silently to myself and put out a leg to ensure the deep slit at the back fully opened to reveal stocking tops, garter hooks and thigh! Then I turned. He was sat there with mouth wide open, gaping in disbelieve. Then he looked at me and dropped his head in embarrassment, quickly fumbling for his cigar.

I got back down, walked to the desk and pushed the book towards him, “You OK Mr McCloughlin?”

“Yes, yes,” he spluttered, lighting up his cigar. “I didn’t know you wore stockings, Ann, when did you start that?”

“You don’t like me wearing them, Mr McCloughlin?”

“No, I didn’t say that. I love stockings.”

“Well, Phil, my husband, suggested it. I guess he wanted to remember the days when all the ladies wore stockings with seams.”

“Yes, I remember when my wife wore stockings, now she wears these awful pantyhose! They are so sexless, don’t you find?”

“Well, Mr McCloughlin, I used to wear pantyhose all the time, still do when I wear my short skirts or jeans. But you’re right, stockings are very sexy to wear, sexy to look at, and they certainly excite Phil!”

“Well, they are certainly exciting me so I suggest we progress at a slow pace on this one.”

“What do you mean Mr McCloughlin?”

“Well, you cannot wear stockings to the office, almost give me a heart attack without my having some enjoyment.”

“Enjoyment?”

“Yes, Ann, enjoyment.”

“You’ve lost me Mr M. Please explain.”

He inhaled on the cigar and blew out a shaft of slate-colored smoke. “You can’t take your skirt off here, can you? So, I’m suggesting we take off one afternoon and go get ourselves a motel room where I can admire your stockings without any busybodies knowing!”

I walked round his desk and sat on the edge and feigned shock. “Mr M! Really now, we are both married! We cannot go off and get a motel room just like that!”

“Why not, girly?” He asked, his finger playing with the chain on my left ankle, locked under the soft sensuousness of my nylons.

“Because you’re married – and old enough to be my dad!”

“Bah! That’s bull! Bet if you were honest, you’d enjoy making love to me as much as me doing you!” He chortled, his hands pushing the hem of my skirt up until it revealed the twin-banded welts of my stocking tops and garter hooks. His fingers played with the hooks, eventually sliding across the nylon of the stocking tops and onto my thighs, “And why does Mrs M wear pantyhose? Doesn’t she ever wear stockings?” His fingers had now reached the edge of my panties. I threw the hem of my skirt over his hands and arms just in case someone walked in without knocking. He looked me in the eye. “You shave down there, do you?”

“Mr M! That’s a very personal question!”

“Well – do you?!” His finger slid inside the front of my panties.

“Well, do I?”

“Guess you do, girly. Why’s that?” His finger followed the twin vertical lips of my pussy.

“Why do you think? I do it for Phil. He doesn’t like a forest down there, and neither do I! Very un-hygienic, I reckon, so I trim it, not really shave it all off. I guess I trim two or three times a week. Phil likes to tongue me down there so - ”

“ – who’s Phil?!”

“My hubby!”

“Jeez! You’re married!” His face contorted into a look of aggrieved pain while his hands slid down my thighs to rest once again on my stocking tops and garter hooks

“Sure I am! So are you! Why don’t you go home and shave Mrs M?!”

“Why don’t we go to that motel? Have a bit of fun!”

“OK, I’ll go but if I’m gonna give you a rise then you can give me one. A pay rise!”

“Jeez, you must be joking!”

“No, deadly serious Mr M. Twenty dollars a month!”

“Shit! Where d’ya think that sort of money’s going to come from?”

“Mr M I do a lot round here! Fix meetings. Do the diaries. Make the coffee. Clean the office. Keep all the law books in order, in their right place on these shelves…” He eased the hem of my skirt up and, deftly dropping his head, ran his tongue across my stocking tops onto my skin, then across to garter hooks. It felt good, horny.

I fixed my make-up, took off my blouse, skirt and panties, straightened my seams and came out of the bathroom. In the half light I could make out Mr M on his back naked, his manhood tall and proud. I stopped by the bed’s edge and dropped my head, first kissing his enlarged appendage, then taking it completely in my mouth. “Hey, girly!” he shouted, “don’t want none of that blowing. The real thing!” I laughed, climbed onto the bed, legs across Mr M’s hips, easing my self slowly down on his erect truncheon. His eyes closed and his face went into a dream-like trance, his hands caressing my stockings, fingers playing with garter hooks, fumbling for the seams. Five or so minutes later Mr M’s spunk was inside me. I looked at his contented face. “Hey Mr M, you done well!”

I got home a little later than normal, minus panties under my long pencil skirt, a trophy for Mr M. Phil was out back of the house with a beer, flicking through that month’s “Hustler”. He looked up, “Hi sweety! Good day?”

“You bet darling. You’ll never guess what?”

“What, doll? Tell me!”

“I got a rise out of old Mr M today! Twenty dollars extra a month!”

“Hey, clever girl! You’re worth every penny to those guys down there too!”

“You bet! I’m their slave, you know!”

Phil eyed my legs, “Your seams darling…they don’t look straight. Not like you to have wonky seams! Looks like the guy who humped you didn’t have an eye for detail!” We laughed, then kissed. He looked at me, “So, how is old Mr M these days?”

“Well, today it’s been pretty hectic, lot going on, big case to research…guess you could say we finished the afternoon pretty orgasmically!”

Hello Mercedes: I thought I would just keep you up to date on developments
as they unfold. Thank you for posting the first part of my diary. Perhaps
you should add (Part 1) to the title. If you post this one I will try to
find time to update you on developments at the new agency (As President you
can imagine that I will be kept quite busy!!)
Best regards, Lisa.

The Diary Of The Sexy VP Part 2 (Read part 1 first)
I was just adding the finishing touches to my make up when the door chimed.
It was Cyril. “I’ll be with you in a minute” I said over the inter comm and
took a last glance at myself in the mirror. Wow! My boobs! Were they a bit
too much I wondered? I had not worn a bra that lifted and projected them
quite like this before. I felt good about them, but would Cyril think I was
too tartish and be offended? They were quite a turn on I was sure. On my way
past the bedroom I grabbed a blouse to put on over my cardigan and tied it
in a knot at my waist. It didn’t look quite right, but made me feel more
comfortable for the moment. I felt like a girl meeting a new date and was
quite excited. Cyril was dressed in Amani jeans and his signature bow tie.
He looked handsome and youthful. In his younger years I thought he must have
been quite a handful for his wife to hold, metaphorically speaking. “You
look fabulous” he said “Walk for me please”. I walked to the end of the
hallway, my Manolo stilettos clicking seductively on the slate tiled floor.
Then I did a twirl allowing my skirt to flair a little, enough to show my
legs but not the tops of my stockings. I was glad that I had decided to wear
the cincher. It was very comfortable and I liked the feel of the 71/2 inch
long wide garters pulling at my stockings tops. I walked back to him and he
placed his hands on my shoulders and and kissed me lightly on the
forehead.“Such an exquisite body my dear” he remarked. I thought about the
power of advertising for a moment. I was actually wearing an ‘Exquisite’
Form brassiere.
“I have brought some pictures to show you. Do we have time before lunch?”
“Sure” I said and led the way to the pool room. He was impressed with the
posters I had hung and commented with a chuckle “Is there a message behind
this one?” refering to the 1953 movie poster of James Dean in the “The
immoralist.” While Cyril set up the projector I mixed a couple of Martinis.
and switched on the stereo and the Platters filled the room with a fifties
favorite …when the twilight has gone and the song birds stop singing. “I am
afraid they are a bit disorganized” he apologized refering to his slide.
Finally he lowered the lights and the screen was filled with color. He said
that most of the shots were professionally taken while his wife was on a
location assignment in Greece for Vogue. She was a very elegant woman and I
felt quite frumpish by comparison. Then he said with a twinkle in his eye
“These are really some of my favorites” and several lovely models appeared
on the screen wearing full length corsets bras and stockings.
“Perhaps we should look at these later” I suggested “As I have to do a salad
for lunch. I asked him if he would like to choose a wine from the cellar and
bring it up. “We are having rack of lamb with a smoked Salmon appetizer so
pick something suitable.” I said. Cyril appeared in the kitchen some moments
later with a bottle of Merlot and a Chablis for the fish, which is a
favorite of mine and I tend to drink more than I should. As I stood at the
counter preparing the lettuce Cyril came over and commented on the Clematis
vine outside the window and at the same time placed his hand on my buttocks
gently feeling his way around my hips and, having discovered my waist
cincher proceeded to lightly run his fingers down the length of a garter to
the clip and then said “thank you so much for dressing in this delightful
fashion for me. I really appreciate you wearing the seamed stockings
especially with the Cuban heel. It has always been a favorite of mine, they
bring back such wonderful memories”. “Well Cyril” I said. I bought them
especially for you because I want this to be a special lunch, just you and
me. We don’t often get the chance to be together alone. Then he moved his
hand to my blouse saying “my wife used to wear her blouse knotted like that
in the front sometimes but without a bra not over a sweater. I wiped my
hands and turned to him. “Would you have preferred me not to wear a bra”? I
asked somewhat coyly, but then explained why I had worn the blouse the way I
had. “I think you should let me be the judge, may I undo it”? Before I could
answer he was undoing the knot at my waist. I removed the blouse for him and
he whistled quietly as I drew a breath and lifted my diaphragm to exaggerate
my breasts even more. “Do you like me better this way” I asked a little
sarcastically. He just looked and I turned a little for him to get a side
view. “Why would you be so shy about such magnificent breasts?" He asked.
All the young women in the fifties and sixties wore up lift pointed bras and
the bigger their breasts the prouder they were. No! my dear, say you won’t
wear those soft cup bras any more, at least not when you are with me”. “But
they are not fashionable today”. I protested “and besides one cannot buy
such bras any more except perhaps from eBay.” When you show me your
collection I will pick some out that I want you to wear" he said with quite
a stern manner. I hoped he was not going to get too demanding of me. He has
a way of always getting what he wants. I was beginning to feel helpless
towards him and I reminded myself not to let things get out of hand, at
least not yet. I was at a distinct disadvantage as I was still very horny
not having had time to play with myself as I had wanted before he came. I
had gotten quite turned on whilst in the shower and dressing as I usually do
and the events of the other day were still very fresh in my mind. The way
men had looked at me and how I felt wearing the seamed stockings for the
first time. I felt a kind of power over them and it excited me tremedously.
At this moment I was feeling very insouciant about him being my father in
law and so much older than I. As we stood there in front of the window I
wondered what it would be like to make love with him. His tanned face and
silver hair belied his energy and the etched lines in his face were witness
to many romantic encounters I am sure over the years. As he toyed with the
medallion around my neck I was only half conscious of his words and wished
that he would place his hands inside my cardigan and touch my breasts. I
opened another button to allow the edge to fold back and reveal more of my
cleavage. The cardigan opened to show the shiny satin of my brassiere. His
fingers traced the edge of one of the cups and I thought he would try to
touch my now very turgid nipples then I quickly said. “I am very hungry,
would you like to eat now? Every thing is ready, so if you would like to
open the wine we can begin.
Over lunch I tried to forget my sexual needs and we talked about the company
and some of the assignments coming up. We had recently completed the
photography and layouts for lingerie boutique which had been very successful
and Cyril was very impressed with the new art director, John, who we had
assigned to the account. I was curious as to Cyril’s passing comment at, our
last company luncheon, about him being ‘glad to see that John and I were
getting along well.’ So I questioned him about it and he told me that he had
seen us together in the ‘Three Black Birds’ lounge and bar after the shoot.
Cyril had that mischievous grin on his face again and said “don’t worry my
dear I will not tell tales, I know that life must get very frustrating and
boring for you since Frank’s accident. I drank some more wine and could feel
myself getting that nice warm glow, not just to my cheeks but down below. So
now I knew that Cyril must have seen John trying to feel me up. We had taken
a small booth and thought that it would be reasonably private. Obviously it
was not. Although nothing outrageous happened, but if I remember correctly
John had his hand up my skirt most of the time and indeed I had at one point
unbuttoned my blouse to show him that I was wearing one of the bras that was
modeled that day. He wanted to date me again, but I objected saying that I
would rather keep it casual. After a heavy necking session in the car I
managed to cool his ardor. Hopefully it was not during this episode that
Cyril saw me.
So now I was concerned as to whether I may have blown my chances for the new
position when I blew John. However what has happened is in the past and
can’t be changed. So I broached the subject of the new agency with Cyril and
asked him if he had anyone in line for the position as yet. Just as he was
speaking about the virtues of some of the staff members and their
suitability the phone rang. It was Frank, my husband, just checking to see
if everything was going okay. After a brief chat I handed the phone to
Cyril. “Yes dear boy she is the perfect hostess, we are spending quality
time together and we are getting to know one another better.”he said. Cyril
indicated for me to pour him some more wine and as I handed it to him I was
standing beside him and he put his hand around my waist preventing me from
leaving. As he talked he moved his hand over my hips and down towards the
hem of my skirt. I gently rubbed the back of his neck. Having someone hold
me close like this was something that I needed badly. It has not just been
the physical side of our marriage that I have been missing it has been the
feeling of being needed. When Cyril’s hand touched my leg below my skirt I
know that I should have moved away, but I didn’t. His hand moved very slowly
up the back of my leg following the dark seam of my stocking like a road
map. I did n’t protest although I know that I should have. When Cyril’s hand
reached my garter he paused and gently stroked the welt of my stockings,
they were very taut and were like a silken second skin. This is madness I
thought, but failed to move. My whole body wanted to respond to him by
moving my hips and tightening my buttocks. I could feel myself getting quite
damp. Then Cyril said still talking into the phone “don’t worry I will have
made my decision by the time you come back next week. Have a good meeting.
We have some stiff competition for this one so do your best. Then “Yes she
is doing a wonderful job and has my interests at heart and knows just what I
like. He gave me that mischievous grin again. “Yes we were in the middle of
lunch when you called. Her culinary art is only exceeded by her beauty. His
fingers was now feeling the contours of my panties. I desperately wanted to
move my buttocks to and fro as the fire in my pussy ignited. “Okay” he said
“I’ll see you next week take care.” Then handed the phone back to me. It was
my opportunity to move away and replace the receiver.
We finished lunch discussing Frank’s meeting he was having with a group of
realtors who wanted us to prepare a promotional brochure and do some market
research. Then we went down to the pool room to finish viewing Cyril’s
slides. I poured Cyril a brandy while he flipped through more slides showing
models in beautiful classic lingerie from the 50’s and 60’s. They were all
studio shots of the highest caliber. All of the women wearing girdles did so
with stockings. Some displaying seams and RH&T’s. I was interested in the
slides but not nearly as much a Cyril was. The models looked so elegant in
the girdles and corsets. Some were dressed in fashionable dresses and suits
also.
Cyril put the projector on automatic and the slides changed every few
minutes. He came over and sat on a bar stool next to me. I had positioned my
self provocatively with my skirt high enough to show the first band of the
stocking tops. I wanted to get in control of Cyril to achieve my goals. “So
what do you think of these lovely ladies? he asked. “I think that some of
the corsets seem as though they would be a little uncomfortable to wear. It
must have been obvious that one was wearing a girdle too”. He said in the
period of 1950-60, straight skirts and shift dresses were quite
close-fitting at the hips. Like all of the women at the time, the women
wearing these styles had very smooth and firm looking hips; and virtually
flat tummies and a backside that did not move and that appeared to be a
single, undivided entity. Their clothes were cut so that if their tummies
were not flat, and if their bottoms were capable of 'divided movement', you
would certainly be able to tell. At that time, a moving and unsupported
bottom was considered to be a sign of carelessness or lasciviousness. You
didn’t want your bottom to visibly “bounce” in public any more than you
wanted your breasts to. Today things are different. Young women, in
particular like clothes to cling to their bodies. They like to show their
“buns” and for their breasts to bounce. Girdles gave women a good posture.
It’s the reason why women at this time didn’t look right unless they were
wearing girdles. They didn’t slouch, they kept their backs straight, they
sat down slowly, and they never 'flopped.' This was considered particularly
elegant and ladylike.” Cyril rambled on about the elegance of the
fashionable women in this era. “Do you like a women to wear a girdle”? I
asked “Yes very much so, apart from the reasons I have mentioned I also
think they are very sexy” he said with a wicked smile. I crossed my legs and
the light taffeta skirt assisted by me moved higher up my thighs. Cyril
glanced down at my stocking tops. “Are you wearing a girdle or garter belt”?
he asked. In placed my hand lightly on his thigh and said coquettishly
“ladies don’t usually tell gentlemen that kind of thing.” “Why don’t you
model for me and pretend you are on the cat walk at one of our fashion
assignments. Do a commentary on what you are wearing for me. I could tell
Cyril was getting a little turned on so I went along with him.
I went out into the hall and adjusted my clothing. I pulled the cardigan
down into my skirt so that it pulled tautly over my breasts. I tightened my
belt one more notch to nip in my waist and I adjusted my garters and seams.
The drinks had made me a little giggly, but I was in control, but also still
very horny. I entered the room and walked as seductively as I thought a
model should, perhaps a little more so, and started to ad-lib about a
fictitious event for today announcing that the lovely Lisa on the walkway at
the moment is wearing a beautiful “Exquisite Form” long line black brassiere
of acetate satin. I sashayed to the end of the room and turned towards Cyril
and then slowly walked back to him gradually unbuttoning my cardigan until I
reached him and then removed it. “Notice the high lift this elegant brassier
gives to the breasts and how the conical shaped cups give that high pointed
look so popular in the 50’s.” I stood in front of Cyril for a moment
presenting my breasts to him for examination. Then in a teasing tone, said
“if sir would care to feel the fabric you will appreciate it’s softness”.
Cyril reached out and touched the body of the bras. His fingers ran lightly
over my diaphragm and as I turned he felt the 7 hook closures at the back.
His hands moved around my waist and as I turned to face him I moved in
between his legs as he sat on the stool, and he brought his hands up to my
breasts and was cupping one, when I said. “I asked you to feel the satin
fabric not my breasts sir” in mocking disapproval. I kissed my fore finger
and placed it on his nose and the slowly walked on my 5" stilettos to the
end of the room again, removing the wide 3" belt as I went and threwing it
on the couch. With my back to him I raised my skirt and with one foot on the
hearth I made a display of adjusting the seam of my stocking and re-clipping
a garter. As I glanced in the long mirror beside the bureau I could not
quite believe what I saw. Although a little surprised I was also excited.
Cyril was was gently and discreetly, so he thought, rubbing himself in the
groin. No man has ever done this in front of me except my husband and I was
really turned on by it. I finished adjusting my stockings allowing my hands
to take in the wonderful feel of the shiny nylons from my ankle to my garter
clips. Then I did a slow seductive walk back to Cyril unzipping my skirt and
letting it fall to the ground just as I was standing in front of him again.
“Bravo, bravo” he said excitedly. “That was magnificent”. His little friend
was also quite excited and he was definitely showing his appreciation. “My
dear that is a beautiful girdle. I just love those long garters” he said.
“It is a waist cincher Cyril, not a girdle” I answered correcting him. I sat
for a moment on the stool feeling a little embarrassed, and hoping that he
had not noticed the damp patch on my panties. I wanted desperately to ease
this longing in my loins. When he said “It has been a long time since I was
treated to such a splendid show my dear” I wished he would stop calling me
“my dear”. I dislike it,but I didn’t want to upset him.
I was getting bored with his adoration as he knelt in front of me on one
knee to examine my stilettos and the Cuban heels and seams of my stockings.
He was as though besotted with the sight of my nyloned legs sheathed in the
black diaphanous material. He slipped one shoe from my foot and held the 5"
black patent leather heel to his lips. “These heels make you walk like a
goddess” he murmured as he continued to handle my stockinged foot. He cupped
the Cuban heel in his hand while the other explored the length of the seam
up the backs of my calves. He took one foot and kissed my toes and then took
my large toe and put it in his mouth allowing his tongue to circumnavigate
it. This had an unexpected effect on me as I was seriously aroused and
wanted him to continue this unusual ritual, but knew that I should stop it.
I stood up and as his head was now close to my thighs he kissed my garter
tabs and his hands caressed the jet black stocking welts. I parted my legs
slightly as his fingers began to explore my inner thighs. Then sanity
prevailed and I said “Cyril I didn’t intend this to go this far I think that
I should get my gown” and left the room leaving Cyril stammering about being
sorry and profusely apologizing.
Back in my bedroom I grabbed my white satin gown. As I passed the mirror the
stark contrast of my raven hair and the black lingerie and nylon stockings
stopped me in my tracks. It was incredibly sensual and erotic. I leant
against the wall and considered my reflection. Cyril had excited me and I
was feeling sorry that I had stopped his advances. I let the gown fall open
and watched as I fondled my tightly encased satin breasts. My nipples seemed
on fire as I gently teased them. My shiny nylon stocking legs looked longer
and shapelier as I looked down at the slim stiletto heel and the re-enforced
nylon Cuban heel and I felt this wonderful sensation of power as I realized
how weak and fragile Cyril had become when I was in his presence. I slipped
my hand into my panties and sought the lips of my pussy. Gently I applied
pressure and started to move my hips. Oh God it felt good. Then Suddenly I
heard Cyril’s voice from the landing. “May I come in?”.“No” I snapped
feeling a little irritated at him having disturbed my thoughts. “I am
changing and will join you in a minute. Go and cool off in the pool, there’s
an angel”. I was getting more and more frustrated. Things were not going as
planned. I had let my emotions rule my head as usual and was thinking only
of sex. I was going to change into a white girdle and white bullet brassiere
for Cyril, but decided to call it a day. So I just changed my black panties
for a white pair. I love the contrast of the white silk bikinis against the
the black cincher with the long black garters. I adjusted my make up and
went down stairs again. Cyril was not in the pool, but I soon found him
though, in the sauna. He was naked except for a towel around his waist.
“Come on in” he said “the temperature is just right”. I declined, making
excuses about my hair getting in a mess. “Why are you not in the pool”? I
questioned. “Because I have hurt my back and thought the warmth would do it
good” was his reply. “I have a much better remedy for that” I said and
tightened the sash around my waist and forcing my breasts out to make the
points taut against the satin gown and at the same time allowing it to open
in the front for him to see my black nylons with the sexy seams he gets so
excited about. “You win” he said and stood up clutching the towel about him.
It was difficult for him to hide his erection but he tried and I discreetly
looked the other way pretending not to notice. I had never seen a man his
age sexually aroused and was not sure quite what to expect. I had always
imagined that it was more difficult for men to have erections when they were
in their sixties. It did not appear to be that way with Cyril. But then
Cyril is not like most men I thought. “Come”! I said and I will give you a
massage. I led him over to the massage table and told him to lie face down.
The massage table is in a small alcove off the pool and the three walls are
all mirrored. Frank and I do weights and run on the treadmill here. “Where
does it hurt most”? I asked and he indicated the small of his back. “I am
really not dressed for this” I said taking the lid off the lubricant. “I
really don’t want to get grease on my gown”. Cyril was lying face down with
his arms folded under his chin and his chin resting on them. I went to the
end of the table and stood in front of him loosening the sash around my
waist. “If I remove my gown will you promise to be a good boy. I think you
were a little naughty in the other room” I said as if scolding a child. “My
dear you must forgive me for letting my emotions run away with me. It will
not happen again. But you must understand that I do not see such a heavenly
body close to me like that any more and I am still a virile “young” man. He
emphasized young. I said that I perfectly understood and was very flattered
by his attention. “I will do any thing for you my dear, you just have to
ask.” he said. I removed my gown and walked over to the hook on the wall. I
returned to him very slowly swaying my hips seductively and dipping my
fingers into the lubricant. “’So you will do anything for me will you’” I
thought. I leant over Cyril and proceeded to massage his hips and waist.
“Cyril we never finished talking about the new agency and who will head it
up did we”? I was aware that he had a side view of me as I leant over him
and hoped that he had his eyes wide open. Glancing to the side mirror I
could see my butt was nicely in view and the long black garters were pulling
my sheer black stockings very tautly. The metal garter clips glinted and the
deep black welts of the stockings had a lustrous sheen to them. I worked my
fingers into his flesh and he sighed as I hit a sore spot. “I was thinking
Cyril that that I am as qualified as any of the other members of the staff
for that job and and I have some great ideas that I would like to share with
you.” I said as I moved my hands towards his buttocks and the soft flesh
around his pelvis. Then I began to pummel his backside and thighs. “Is this
helping you at all do you think Cyril? I will stop if you like.” “No please
continue, perhaps you could do the other side in a moment” he said with a
chuckle. “I had no idea that you would want the job my dear, I think that it
would be an excellent idea and I will think about it. “I would want the
title to be president” I said moving now so that I was at the head of the
table massging his shoulders. His gaze was now at my midriff and as I leant
over him his face brushed against my panties. “Your perfume is absolutely
intoxicating” he commented as he inhaled the air around my pussy. “I would
have to consider that request my dear as there are others senior to you, and
what about Frank? How would he react? ” he asked. “You are finished this
side” I said, turn over and I will finish you off. I hope this is helping
you.” “Yes, yes my dear very much so. I feel so much better already. As he
rolled over the towel slipped and he moved to grab it holding it to his
groin area. I leant over him from the side and as I worked my hands over his
chest my arms squeezed my breast together presenting him with what I am sure
was plenty of cleavage. “That really is a superb brassiere” he said his eyes
looking a little glassy. “Do you like wearing it?” and without waiting for
an answer he said “Will you wear some of your other vintage lingerie for me
sometime?” “I said that depends Cyril if we ever have the opportunity again.
I don’t think that Frank would be too enthusiastic for me to do so normally.
He wanted me to get rid of them all.” My hands were now close to his hips
and his buttocks were giving little signs of movement. “I can’t do you
properly with your hands down there Cyril and he moved them up to hold me
under the arms. I was looking down at him and noticed that he was sweating.
“Are you okay” I asked and he replied that he had never felt better and gave
me the kindest smile. “We would be able to see much more of each other” I
said “if I had the new position” and moved my hands down to his hips and
removed the towel to wiped his face. Without taking my eyes from his I said
“of course this would mean I would receive all the appropriate perks” and as
I said this I moved my hands towards his hips gently kneading his body. His
hands had moved from the sides of my long line brassiere to my breasts and
he had one cupped in each hand with his thumbs moving across my nipples. “I
think we could make a very good partnership he said somewhat shakily just as
my fingers found his hardness. “Shall we shake on the deal then” I said as
my finger wrapped them selves around what I was astonished to find was a
very “solid member” of the new agency. “Ah ooooh” he moaned “The job is
yours I will announce it next week.”

Mercedes:                                                                     MARCH'S WINNER

You asked for stories about slips and stockings.  Here is a true one I hope you enjoy.

I was raised by my step mother.  When I was about 15 years old, she started complaining to me that she had leg cramps.  One Sunday afternoon when everyone was out of the house, she came over to where I was sitting on the couch watching television.  She asked me to move over and laid with her head on the pillow at one end.  She was wearing a dress and had taupe seamed stockings on and no shoes.  She placed her feet on my left thigh and pulled her dress up and held her hand between her legs, covering herself with her dress.  She asked me to rub her calves because her legs hurt.  Now, my step mother was about 35 at the time and quite attractive.  She was probably about 5'4", weighed about 110 lbs and she had very nice slender legs.  Her dress was up far enough for me to see the tops of her stockings and the garter attachments holding them up.  The way she was holding the dress between her legs also showed the edges of her ivory slip.

I squeezed and massaged her calves as she laid her head back and closed her eyes.  She kept saying "Mmmmm" and telling me how good it felt.  The feel of her shiny, smooth stockings really turned me on.  I kept squeezing the back of her calves so I could feel the seam.  I remember hoping she wouldn't look down and see how hard I had become.  I then moved my massage up to her knees and the back of her knees.  She slightly moved her knees further apart and moved her hands up behind the back of her head.  She never opened her eyes.

I don't know how I got the courage but I began to slide my open palms up and down the inside of her thighs even touching the bare skin at the top of her stockings.  I can't tell you how badly I wanted to slip my fingers inside the edge of her matching ivory panties but I just didn't have the nerve.  I was breathing so hard I knew I was about to get in trouble.  At that point the phone rang and I jumped up to answer it.  When I came back she was in the back yard hanging up the wash on the clothesline to dry.

That never happened again and we never spoke about it.  I can tell you, however, I have fantasized and masturbated many many times over the last 40 years about that incident.  I can still sense the smooth silky feeling of her stockings and it still turns me on.

Saturday Night Live – Having Fun in ‘92
By the Bear

For my birthday, Megan promised to make a fantasy come true. She packed in
secret, telling me only that I'd be turned on and ignoring my questions
about what she might do or wear that evening. Simply put, my fantasies
involved Megan showing off to tease me, please me, and then share the
excitement of the evening. It was something special that we both enjoyed!
I could tell she was wearing classic stockings from the enticing nylon
“wrinkles” about her ankles and knees as she slid into the driver’s seat.
Though they might not fit the current fashion statement, they are a turn-on
I’ve enjoyed since my teen years. In the sixties, it was a thrill to catch
a girl reaching down to smooth her stockings, tugging them up until they lay
smooth about her trim shapely legs. Sometimes, if I was lucky, I caught a
glimpse of dark stocking tops as she reached up under her skirt to adjust
her garter straps. Such a thrill at such an age! I just never outgrew it!
But I am distracted. Megan’s playful sense of self-confidence allowed her
to turn my fantasies for her own enjoyment because she simply loves being
admired by other men! So when she slipped gently into the driver’s seat,
flashing her stockings with a flip of her short skirt, I settled on the
passenger side to see what she had planned for the weekend.
Megan headed for the city (more fun and fewer chances to be recognized!) to
a high class shopping mall. She passed up the conservative shops for a
trendy boutique and waded into the crowd as I watched from the sidelines.
She eventually surfaced with a half-dozen inexpensive, but very intriguing
party dresses with short hemlines, low-cut necklines, and filmy material
that peaked my interest before she even tried them on!
Megan then led me back to the dressing rooms, barely covered by loosely hung
curtains and I realized that she had done her homework very well!. She
paused until a dressing room in front opened up and as she stepped inside, I
looked forward to a bit of flashing as she changed her clothes. So my total
surprise, Megan smiled and then slowly and very carefully tugged the curtain
completely closed! I was stunned and almost turned to leave until she
softly called my name.
Sliding the curtains apart, Megan asked me to take her purse and then turned
away with a wink, this time leaving the curtains wide open! Her wink said a
lot and the half-open curtain said the rest! Meg simply ignored her
exposure as she changed clothes. With each new dress, Megan fully displayed
her lingerie, nylons, and garter belt for me and anyone standing nearby! It
was like a style show where she didn't care who noticed! I only wished that
I’d had my camera!
After shopping, we drove to a motel before going out bar hopping and the
game moved on to the next level! We had a great room with windows on both
sides – small ones facing the parking lot and large sliding glass doors
other side, facing a beautiful patio indoor swimming pool. There was
already a party going on. Meg unpacked and changed, dropping her skirt to
prance about in her glistening soft dark stockings, garter belt, and sheer
lace demi-bra. Only the translucent “day curtains” kept her hidden from the
crowd just outside our patio door! Eventually, Megan slipped into a short,
split front skirt and a sheer pink blouse that more than showed off her
stockings and her bra-clad breasts. Then she gave me a passionate kiss,
curtsied in her short skirt and told me that she’d picked out the perfect
bar for drinks and pool!
As we entered, we pretended we'd never laid eyes on each other before. Megan
picked out a guy at the bar and sat down alongside, allowing her skirt to
open up so he couldn't help but see her nylons. Of course it appeared
accidental, but as she ordered a drink, Megan's stockings were bared almost
to her garters as she sat calmly showing off for his pleasure! I chose a
table nearby and sat down to watch. Megan began to flirt and soon got him
to buy her a drink. She kept tugging her skirt up higher until he was
staring at the straps of her garter belt and even turned away from the bar
so that the entire crowd could see her nylons and garters!
Megan enjoyed the increasing attention, but - in the dim light - no one had
yet noticed her thinly veiled bra. Then I pointed at the vacant pool table.
Megan gave me her secret smile and we both moved toward the light,
pretending to confront each other for rights to the table! It wasn’t a
moment before I offered her a challenge of “strip pool” and she agreed!
First, it caught the attention of everyone in the bar. Second, it allowed
Megan to walk about in front of a crowd of admirer. Third, it shed a bright
light on her sexy and very filmy blouse!
This was when I first understood Megan was really running the show! She
pretended to challenge me and I bet my shirt against her blouse that she
couldn’t! The challenge instantly drew the bar crowd and they began staring
at Megan’s sheer white blouse and half exposed breasts with every shot.
Even more exciting to me, I could see Megan’s short skirt hiked constantly
hiked up to display her sexy dark tan stockings with each shot that she
took!
I was better at pool and decided to show her! I was in charge of the
event, but Megan was in charge of the game. Even as I sank the first shot,
Megan took matters into her own hands by slipping the first button of her
semi-sheer blouse. When I sank the next shot, she grinned at me and undid a
second button! As if to confirm my growing excitement, I sank one more
shot – only to see her slyly push her bra down so far that her admirer could
see almost her bra-clad breasts!
I surrendered as she smiled at me and suggested that we go out dancing!
Megan gave me an evil grin and agreed, but mentioned that she wanted to
change clothes for the evening. Since “her” room was just down the next
block, she asked her new “friend” if he might drive her over to change
clothes. I followed them back and arrived as Megan disappeared into the
motel. As her “friend” stood outside, I pulled in where I could see our
room and then invited him over for a beer.
Then, as I hoped, a light came on and we saw Megan walk into her motel room.
Megan was making things exciting and she made no move to close the curtains
as she moved about getting ready to change. I pretended not to notice what
was going on. Then the stranger suddenly grabbed my arm and pointed to the
window.
"Holy shit! She's taking off her clothes!" he choked and I turned to see
Megan begin to strip!
Meg pretended not to notice the open curtain by her patio and casually
unbuttoned her blouse, exposing her sexy lace bra. Then she unbuttoned her
skirt and let it fall to the floor. Megan stood there dressed only in her
bra, garter belt, stockings, and high heels. She picked up a sheer purple
dress that we could see right through, but then paused and appeared to
change her mind. She turned and disappeared into the bathroom. The guy let
out his breath and I offered him a beer.
Just then, Megan reappeared and laid out something sheer and black. Turning
to face the window, she dropped her bra and unhooked her garter belt. As we
watched in fascination, Megan slowly changed into black lingerie and garter
belt. Then she put on the black demi bra and adjusted it so that her
breasts were exposed. Remarkably, as if to give me more time to watch her
in her high heels and sexy lingerie, she walked over to the mirror by the
window to fix her makeup, standing before us in nothing but her black
half-bra, panties, garter belt and stockings.
She walked past the window a couple of times to make sure we could see her.
Then, finally, she put on her dress, grabbed her coat, and turned out the
lights as she left, pretending that she never knew we were out there
watching her.
We all went dancing together. Again, Megan rode with the other guy and I
could only imagine what she was showing as I followed them to the dance
club. Megan decided to really teach me a lesson when they arrived and
slipped off to a private table without me. As I was forced to watch, Megan
continued to play up to him just to make me jealous. She kept flashing her
black stockings and allowed him to keep pulling up her skirt so he could see
her stockings and garters.
When I finally asked her to dance, Megan forgave me for giving her a hard
time and hugged me as the lights from the dance floor made her silvery dress
almost see through. When the bright lights came up again, I finally got the
chance to enjoy her fabulous black nylons, garter belt and lacy half-bra as
they showed through her sheer nylon dress! But, even as I began to enjoy my
special night, Megan had a few more surprises. By the end of the night, I
had to suggest we return to our room to keep her from taking her whole dress
off.
Finally, we returned to our suite along the swimming pool, focused on
romance even as others partied outside our door. We began making love in
the dark until Megan pulled away to point out the crowd outside our door.
Then, she slipped off the bed and turned on the reading lamp. It wasn’t a
lot, but enough to be seen by the pool party crowd if they happened to look
our way.
Meg pulled two beers from the cooler we traveled with and strolled over by
the sliding glass door, casually peeking through the semi-sheer curtains and
then pulling them aside. I sipped on my beer, just watching her move as she
gracefully toyed with her skirt & blouse. Megan leaned forward to look out
onto the pool patio, letting her hemline hike up her behind and flashing her
trim upper thighs for my enjoyment, encased in luscious classic Hanes,
accented by her lacy black garters!
Then Megan turned and asked, cryptically, if I was ready for bed. I was
already more than excited and my answer was obvious. She smiled this time
and began to unbutton her blouse as she stood by the open curtains and
deliberately began to strip in full view of the pool partygoers outside our
room!
Megan's black lingerie was again incredible! As her blouse dropped to the
floor, her breasts thrust forward over her half bra, nipples jutting over
the lacy cups! As her skirt unraveled and fell away, Megan’s dark lace
panties accented the dark V between her thighs and her low slung garter
belt simply highlighted her shapely thighs and the sexy black welts of her
glistening nylon stockings! It was then that she was noticed! I could see
past her as two guys climbing out of the pool looked square inside our room.
Their reaction said it! Trying not to stare, it was obvious they were
passing the word to their buddies as Megan came around the bed and stood in
front of me by the lamp, facing the sliding glass doors! I didn’t even have
a chance to speak before nodded and whispered, “I know! Just slowly reach up
and turn off the light!
I did as she asked and Megan smiled as she pushed down her panties just a
moment before the light went off! She knelt in front of me and unzipped my
pants! What followed boggled my mind. Somehow, the bathroom light was still
on and the pale light shown out across the room, highlighting us in shadows
that were just enough for privacy, but more than enough for an erotic
display of lingerie for to the gawkers outside by the pool!
Without the slightest concern for the strangers outside, Megan displayed
her long stocking clad thighs, trim black lace garter belt, and sheer bra to
turn me on before she finally slid on top and fulfilled my ultimate
birthday fantasy!
“Happy Birthday”, she cooed!

Subway Surprise by Jay

John was just getting on the subway on his way home
from work. It was a long day and he was very tired
from working late. "At least it's not too crowded" he
thought. He found a seat and sat down and looked
nonchalantly out the window. He thought for a moment
about Julia, an attractive woman at work he was dying
to go out with but never had the courage to ask. He
though of the sexy blue suit she wore today with black
stockings. He was a little depressed and decided to
stay on the subway and just ride for a while and
relax, something he often did. John was in his late
20s and had a good job and nice place to live but was
pretty lonely. He rarely had any female company. He
looked around and noticed a couple of attractive women
on the train and fantasized about being with them.
Then the train came to a stop and a few people got on.
John looked attentively but no one really stood out.
He looked back to the other side and stared out the
window again. Just as the train was about to take
off he heard a nice soft voice. "Is this seat taken,"
it said. John looked around and couldn't believe his
eyes. A very attractive lady was smiling at him and
wanted to sit down. "Uh, no, go ahead" he muttered.
John couldn't help but to look at her. She was
gorgeous. She had nice shoulder length brown hair.
Pretty big, dark brown eyes. Sexy lips with slight
rouge lipstick. And an overall pretty face. She had
her makeup perfect, just enough but not too much.
Then he noticed her figure. She had a nice curvaceous
body. She had on a tight purple sweater that she
filled out very fully, and a kind of short black
leather skirt. She also had on a pair of off black
stockings and black high heels. "Hi I'm Mandy" she
said. "I'm John" he said nervously. "Well, John you
looked like you needed a little company, so I sat
here. Plus you are kind of cute," she said with a
sexy smile. John got a big grin on his face he
couldn't have wiped off if he had tried. Mandy began
to talk and John listened as best he could but he was
in a trance. He kept up some part of the conversation
but not that much. A few minutes later Mandy said she
had to get off soon. She crossed her legs over
towards John. "Oops, I just had problem" she said.
"What?" asked John. "My garter belt just came
unsnapped" she answered. John got more excited than
ever. He looked down at her sexy legs and quickly got
a big erection. To his amazement she then slowly
pulled her skirt up revealing her lacey topped
stockings. John almost hit the roof, he was
delighted. "Could you help me adjust my hose" Mandy
asked. John got even more excited. "Yeah," he moaned
in awe. John reached over and gently slid his finger
under her smooth stocking top and held it up. Then he
watched in sheer ecstasy as she got her loose garter
and snapped it back in place. "Thank You," Mandy
said. "Your stockings are so smooth," John said not
wanting to let go. Mandy smiled. She got his hand
and gently rubbed it on her thighs. Her stocking felt
so smooth John could have just died happily right
there. He closed his eyes. "Just relax" said Mandy.
He was totally in heaven feeling the touch of this
beautiful lady's smooth stockings. Then the train
came to a halt. John let out a big sigh as he felt a
big wet spot form in his trousers. It was a mess but
he didn't care. "Well John this is my stop, goodbye"
Said Mandy. She pulled her skirt back down and got up
and walked out. John Smiled all the way home.

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