The yellow cab pulled up to our house after eleven. Hair matted, face wet, dress dripping with cum, reluctantly Mia stepped out, heels clicking to the ground, after shallow praise, earnest looks, and subtle hints of rejection led her to stroll over, slide in up front and pump out the cab driver's load, ending our date with jizz on her fingers, most his, some mine.

The next morning, smelling honeysuckle lotion, I woke up fearing my plan had backfired. With one arm around Mia's shoulder, feeling her soft hair and skin, we lay together, spooning each other in my bed.

She should have found me disgusting. She should have run off and begged her father to leave me and Mom alone. Yet, she'd asked to sleep over. She'd even accepted the offer to share my bed. On one condition, for some reason saying she wouldn't get naked. She said she was cold. But that was a lie. She obviously didn't quite trust me. Or maybe she might have been on to my fetish, but purposely didn't let on.

Either way, I openly welcomed her decision to sleep in her pantyhose, as Mia climbed in under the covers, rolled to her side, with her soft buttocks, warm beneath nylon, pressed up against me all night.

Nestled between my arms, by morning I smelled the musk, as her warm body roused from sleep, pantyhose sealing her pussy in its own juices, brining all night.

Hot, humid, covered with this greasy film, overnight, moist air steamed through the hose, leaving the gauzy nylon slippery with sweat.

Sandwiched between her supple cheeks, hard-on stiff as a brick, slowly writhing, she pushed back, brushing my sensitive glans. Scratchy, yet silky, all at once, numerous times, the grainy fabric swept up and down, dueling sensations so thrilling it made my head swim.

Turning her head, her eyes blinked open, greeting me with a smile, then sprang up, grabbed a near pillow and clocked me upside the head.

Laughing, I smiled back, reading her annoyance.

"Let me guess, you're still angry about last night."

Arms folded, eyes slit together, Mia scowled at me in her white strapless bra.

"No, of course not," her eyes rolled. "All girls love jerking off smelly cab drivers."

"Oh, really," I said jokingly. "Where do I sign up?"

Mia smirked. "You're such an asshole."

"Mmm, so I've been told. But look at the bright side, at least it only took a few seconds."

This time I saw it coming, flinching as the pillow struck again.

"Yeah, laugh it up," she said. "You're lucky I didn't smother you in your sleep." Pointing left, she raised her finger toward the dresser. "And what about my dress?" she whined. "It's completely ruined. How the fuck did you cum like that anyway? You realize you're not normal, right?"

"Normal," I said, frowning back. "How would you know?"

"Because," she shrugged. "If every guy came that much, I would have heard it from someone by now."

"Hmm, yeah, that's probably true. And I am sorry for ruining your dress. Sometimes I do get carried away. But I'm also grateful that you chose not to smother me in my sleep," I said, bringing a smile.

Flipping her hair, her lashes fluttered, softening her tone.

"Well, there's still time," she said, rubbing her arm. "But before I kill you, there is something I'm still curious to find out..."

"Oh, what's that?"

"How hard it is to fit you inside my pussy?"

"Oh," I said, ten degrees warmer. "Um, okay, we can do that. Are you sure that's what you want?"

Mia nodded. "It's my first year of college. I don't care what my Dad thinks. I'm not spending the next four years as a virgin."

Frowning, I sat up and clutched my head, voice raised in distress.

"Hold on, are you serious?"

Mia smirked. "Do I need to wear a sign? I told you I've never had a boyfriend."

"Well, yeah, I get that. But I figured at some point you hooked up with someone."

"You've never met my d..."

"I know," I said, cutting her off. "What does your dad to you anyway? Lock you up in some tower with a chastity belt?"

"Worse," she said. "If he ever found out I had sex before marriage he'd totally cut me off."

"Wow," I swallowed. "He'd really do that?"

"In a heartbeat," Mia nodded. "My father's the type of guy who believes he can buy anything, including love. He met my mother at a fashion show in Milan. She started as a runway model. To this day, I wonder if she only stayed with him so long 'cuz he spoiled her so much. He probably does too."

"I get that. When my parents divorced, my dad went and picked up a trophy wife too. But that doesn't explain why your father would treat you the same way he treated your mom."

"That's all he knows," Mia shrugged. "To him, I'm just a prize...and losing my virginity would only decrease the value of my stock."

"I see," I nodded, curious to hear her motives. "So, why now?" I asked, "why me?"

"Two reasons," she said, tilting her head. "For one, out of all my options, you're easily the safest and most convenient. As long as my father's still dating your mother, he'll probably convince himself that I only see you like an older brother, which gives us the freedom to hang out as much as we want, without arousing any suspicion."

"Okay," I said, nodding along. "And what's the other reason?"

"Well," she said, dropping her voice. "Like I said before, it's my first year of college. I came here to learn. So I also need someone with experience."

"Hmm," I said, scratching my head. "You do realize what you're asking, right? It's not as simple as piano lessons. You can't just learn to be a slut."

Mia nodded. "I realize it won't be easy. And I won't lie. I'm extremely nervous about it. But that's why I've waited this long to find the right teacher. The question is have I found him or not?"

Checking the clock, I estimated Mom would return in less than two hours then turning back I promptly decided to waste no more precious time.

"Take off your bra."

I waited expectantly, shoulders leaned against the headboard, watching in silence, as Mia's arms slowly unfolded, reaching behind her back.

Turning her head, Mia looked off, slowly undoing the clasp. Shoulders hunched, her bra fell off, softly landing in her lap.

Head down, nipples swollen, her waifish body trembled shoulders to waist. Perhaps she felt a chill. Or perhaps she really felt naked; as I did, stripped down by Kendra.

Recalling that moment, I relived the vision of Kendra's surprising smile, remembering the way it lifted my panic and filled me with such tremendous confidence, to see her eyes grow wide with amazement, speechless in sight of my cock.

Paying it forward, I smiled back at Mia, eyeing her palm-sized tits. Newly sprouted, high on her chest, her teenage breasts sat up like cupcakes, with hard, pointy, blush-colored nipples instead of candles.

To help her relax, I looked up and kindly whispered. "Beautiful. Now, close your eyes."

With some reluctance, Mia obeyed, eyes finally closing after a long, deep breath.

"Put your hands on your breasts."

Trembling, Mia did as told, hands set atop her chest.

"Touch yourself."

Her eyes flew open, pupils shaking with fear.

"You heard me," my voice dropped. "Keep your eyes closed."

Saying no more, I patiently waited, taking things step by step.

Before I'd even consider having sex, after learning Mia was a virgin, I needed to know how truly innocent she was. If something as basic as masturbation was that uncomfortable, then knowing so allowed me to understand just how much work we had to do.

Hands up, fingers spread, Mia's hands rested lightly against her breasts. Flattening her palms, she placed them both softly over her pert nipples, circling slowly in opposite directions, eyes closed, breathing more heavily through her mouth.

"Do you like your breasts?"

Chest heaving, she seemed to enjoy the pleasure of her own touch, as she whispered back, slightly breathless, shaking her head.

"No, not really...wish they were bigger."

"Not unusual," I said, keeping things positive. "Tell me something you do like about them."

"Hmm," Mia answered, moaning as she kneaded them softly. "They're firm."

"Good."

"They're perky."

"Yes."

"And they're actually really, umm..."

"Sensitive?"

Mia nodded, prompting me to delve further.

"And what are you feeling right now? Describe it to me."

"Gosh, I don't know." Fanning her fingers, she then flicked them over her nipples, both swelling, red as plump raspberries. "I feel warm inside, tingling all over," she said, fondling herself.

"No," I rebutted. "I didn't ask how you feel. I want to know what you feel."

"Oh," she inhaled. "Well, my nipples are really swollen. Not used to them feeling this tough...sort of hurts...in a good way."

"Do you play with them often?"

She shook her head.

"Let me guess...your Dad doesn't like you to touch yourself either."

"Hell, no," Mia frowned. "He caught me once. My ass was red for days."

The image made me jealous. "He spanked you?"

"Yes," she sighed wearily. "My father spanked me for masturbating...not exactly a turn-on."

I begged to differ.

"I don't get it," I said. "It's not like you're out sleeping around. So what's the problem?"

Her answer came with obvious sarcasm. "In his logic, if you want to call it that," Mia explained. "Sex is about love, not pleasure. And people who do things only for pleasure can be easily manipulated."

"Hmm," I sniffed. "That's one way to see it. But some could say masturbation is actually one of the truest expressions of love...as in loving yourself...celebrating the way God made you."

"Oh," Mia let out a grin. "So by sitting here pinching my nipples in front of you, I'm actually making love to myself?"

"Well, yeah...in a manner of speaking, that's exactly what you're doing. And if you believe all creation was made totally different, then until you actually learn your own body, you'll never be able to show someone else what makes you so special and unique."

"Ah," she nodded. "So you're telling me I'm going to have to do this before we can have sex?"

"No," I shook my head. "I'm not saying you have to. I'm saying you need to. I'm saying it'll help."

Showing keen intuition, she then startled me with her next question.

"You're nervous, aren't you? You're worried about hurting me. You're trying to keep me calm."

"Um, yeah, maybe a little," I had to admit. "Just do me a favor. Lie back and keep your eyes shut. Clear all your thoughts. Imagine being alone."

Over the covers, scooting down, Mia laid all the way back, as I rolled over onto my stomach, feet hanging off the edge, poised in between her open legs, directing what happened next.

"Should I keep my hands up here?" she asked, cupping her breasts.

"Just one," I said, thinking she'd take the hint.

"And the other," she said, playing coy, or faking it very well.

"Between your legs," I answered. Mia quickly complied.

Eyes level with her pantyhose gusset, I then followed the motion as her right hand slowly reached down over her stomach.

Knees up, legs wide open, her French-tipped nails slowly slid down toward her navel, only to stop at the band of nylon cutting into her pale, supple, white flesh.

My whole life I'd rarely seen a more sensuous article of clothing, as Mia lay there in pantyhose, sheer to her size zero waist, with no control top, hot neon pink, tight as a bubble gum wrapper.

Just as I noticed the tips of her fingers sliding beneath the hose, I stopped her hand, slowing things down, giving decisive new orders.

"Don't do that. Keep it outside. Rub the nylon against your clit."

With one hand mauling her tiny left breast, the other between her legs, she flattened her fingers over the hose then labored breaths followed as her hand began rubbing in circles against her clit.

"That's it. Nice and slow," I told her. "Do it just like that. Don't just rub the nylon. Use it. Use it until you cum. Rub your clit through your pantyhose and don't you dare fucking stop!"

"Haahhh haahhh haahhh," her ragged breaths came faster and harder. Still, I kept talking.

"God, you look so hot. And you're not even really touching your pussy. That's what great about pantyhose. You can still be a good girl and be bad at the same time. Or maybe you wanna be bad?"

Mia worked her fingers to a blur. "Huhh huhhh ohh ohh gawd yess make me bad...make me dirty...make me your dirty slut!"

"Soon enough," I promised. "We have to get you completely ready. We want it to slide in easy. Now don't stop rubbing your pussy. Keep going. Tell me how good it feels."

"Hmphh huhh," her hips bucked, struggling to form sentences. "Mmm gawwdd f-f-feels g-g-good so nnguhh g-g-good."

"Yeah, you like it," I smiled. "Are you sure about that? Isn't it just a bit frustrating? Wouldn't you love to just rip them open, really get at that clit? Or maybe you love teasing yourself, the way you loving teasing me?"

Mia nodded, gritting her teeth, pinching her left nipple. Over her pussy, her energy focused, zeroed in hard on her clit. Over the gusset, her manicured fingers vibrated side to side, like speedy fingers using dull sandpaper, scratching her horny itch.

Though Mia wasn't in Mom's league, the act of succumbing to the illicit pleasure of masturbating in pantyhose showed me she'd reached a new level, wildly abandoning Daddy's sweet angel and wantonly submitting to the lustful power of nylon, drawn up over her open wide legs, like shimmering tubes of glowing pink neon.

Hearing her moans, I waited on purpose, eyes focused down on her crotch.

Though only a blotch, a wet spot appeared, enough to show she was close. Starting to tremble, her hand lost its rhythm, moments from starting to cum. Right then, I reached down and pulled back her wrist, hand rudely snatched away. Climax denied, Mia looked down, hissing and gnashing her teeth.

The glare of her half-slit, murderous eyes spoke much louder than words. Angrily, like a mouse trap, her legs snapped together, clamped tight around my head.

Head scissored, I struggled in vain, locked ankles behind my back. Neck straining, her thigh muscles proved stronger than they looked, as she forced me to breathe through the gauzy fabric over her steaming wet twat.

Squeezing hard, she arched her back then used the leverage to roll me over, shoulders pinned to the bed.

Moist gusset mashing my face, Mia fumed with hostility.

"You think that's funny!" she said, pressing with all her weight. "Try laughing now, you piece of shit! Maybe I'll sit here and smother you till you pass out!"

Lips muzzled by nylon over my mouth, I couldn't answer as Mia vengefully humped my face.

As I struggled for air, I found it ironic how fragile pink tights could easily become a weapon, as worn by Mia, squatted down, pantyhose snuffing me out.

Riding my face, Mia continued, nylon chafing my skin, grating against my morning stubble, scratching and burning like hell.

"That's right," Mia snarled, squeezing her thighs. "You're my bitch now! How does it feel?"

Small as she was, I could have easily pushed her off. Yet, instead I lost myself gazing at her tits, nips hard, pointed straight out. Above this, her reddish blonde cascading hair set off her eyes emerald green.

Trapped underneath her smooth, sturdy legs, the salty odor of unwashed sex tingled inside my nose, steaming through the thin layer of Mia's pantyhose gusset, as I lay there inhaling a musk formed by hours of perspiration, lips clinging to a salty film, moist from the flow of her juices, along with her loud, pungent, feminine odor, where a virginal sweetness, fresh with its own distinct flowery scent, fragrantly still came through.

From the moment I saw Mia come out half naked, laced in her sheer white dress, I'd purposely laid on the compliments heavy, openly praising her legs, with no attempt to hide my extreme adoration, wanting to send her a clear message that walking out in white heels, pink pantyhose, and legs sculpted like a ballerina would entice me to pop her cherry even if she really was my sister.

Still, in spite of this, with our relationship in its early stages, I never explicitly used the word "fetish," hoping she'd learn on her own.

Above my head, gracefully Mia spun forward, facing my proud erection, where her vocal reaction suggested that finally the light bulb might have come on.

With only a second to catch my breath, upon her rotation, she hunched down, soft tush squashing my face. Smiling beneath her, I sniffed her anus, hearing her sudden gasp.

"Good God, look at your cock!" she said. "It's even bigger than it was last night. You really are a freak, aren't you?" She leaned back, wiggling her butt. "You like this, huh? You like when I rub my ass all over your face!"

Taken by seeing how well she could shake it, I enjoyed seeing her plump cheeks jiggle, but only till Mia brought down her weight, where dressed like a bunny her playful shimmy turned suddenly aggressive, as she hopped up and down, giggling as she brutally smacked her butt against my face.

"I should say 'this is what you get,'" she said, bouncing fast over and over. "But it's pretty obvious you enjoy it," she added, threatening payback. Maybe I'll sit here and watch you jerk off. Or then again, maybe I'll suck your cock, not that you deserve it, not when you're probably still thinking about Bethany." The thought hadn't crossed my mind. "Gosh, it's really a tough decision. I really enjoyed giving you my first blowjob last night. When you started to cum, I know it probably seemed like I was grossed out. But honestly, it was only because you caught me off guard. And you know what else...while you weren't looking...I tasted the driver's cum too. But honestly, it was pretty sour, no way as good as yours. So, I'll make you a deal. If I let you fuck me, promise you'll cum in my mouth."

In the second it took me to process what I'd just heard, Mia lunged forward, reached down and firmly grabbed my cock, then surprisingly shoved half of it deep in her hot little mouth.

With wet, noisy, popsicle slurps, Mia voraciously demonstrated her new sizzling appetite for cock.

Gripping the shaft, with warm, slippery fingers, her hand slid up, stopped then squeezed beneath the head. Wisely, Mia extended the narrow passage formed by her mouth, jerking and sucking at once.

Legs spread, crotch in my face, pushing as far as she could, Mia eagerly choked down my cock, gurgling and slobbering with all the zest of a true, natural-born slut, fist tightening on the upstroke, then back down, doubling the pressure, hand and mouth working as one.

Wildly maintaining her rampant pace, left hand juggling my balls, humming away, spitting all over, I listened as Mia blubbered like an infant, sucking her favorite rattle.

"Hmmfff shhhlick hmmpphh hmmpphh hmmnnguuhh uhh gawd I luvvdishcock hmmgawdd isshoofuckin big hmmphh shleek heessh hesshh hmmphh hnnguhh isshoo so hawwd immamouth mmm fffuccckk can't shtoppp can't stoppp shucking disss sshuugge ffucckiingg ccoocckkk!!"

Feverishly, Mia worked herself into a lather, cock drunk, foaming at the mouth, gagging and spitting, hell bent on making me pop.

Moments from shooting, knowing we couldn't take all day, I tensed up and stifled my release. Still, Mia kept sloshing my dick in and out, sucking with tireless vigor, potentially ruining the sex before it even happened; calling me to action.

Desperate, with two hands, I reached up and clawed my nails through the thin fabric over her precious cunt. With a loud pop, the nylon ruptured, nails punctured through. Reinforced nylon, tightly-stitched, put up a decent fight, till I flexed my forearms for one hard jerk, threads pulled and snapped apart.
Pantyhose ripped, I gazed up toward Mia's slick, fatty, pink lips, pouty, glistening with dew, matching the color and smoothness of nylon torn all to shreds around it. Mouth to her clit, my head shot up, then sucked until Mia came up groaning, forced to release my cock.

Humming away, I sucked without mercy. Till finally her ass quivered, losing control, rocked by the shocking vibrations.

Gasping and moaning, Mia frantically humped my tongue, pushing back, grinding my face. With a tangy flavor, like pink lemonade, I urgently lapped up her juice, slightly tart, yet notably sweet, glued to my lips and chin.

With two hands palming her round supple cheeks, squeezing extremely tight, I held on to keep her from pulling away, lashing her swollen clit.

Arching her back, Mia contorted, wheezing like an asthma attack. Thrashing and groaning, gasping with untold bliss, her thin body shuddered, body wracked, ragged breaths reaching their pitch.

Loud as a tea kettle, Mia cried out, pussy steaming, boiling hot.

Through shakes and shivers, I lay beneath her, proud to deliver what must have been the first memorable orgasm of her life, and surely the first of many.

As Mia slid her ass down to my chest, over heavy breathing, my voice finally returned.

"You're ready," I said, not mincing words. She answered by lifting her leg.

Sitting up, I rolled over and leaned on my side. Then Mia laid her head on the pillow, legs spread, flat on her back.

"Before we do this," she said, voice quavering. "I need you to know one thing. I don't want to be a notch on your belt. I want to be more than that...if you'll let me." I could see as she stared her eyes searched for some form of affirmation. "I understand if you're not sure how you feel right now," she added. "But I'm willing to do anything to prove I can make you happy."

I had heard already the same speech before. Then Mom went out and got a new boyfriend.

"Don't make promises you can't keep."

Clutching my shoulder, Mia pulled me on top of her, voice cracking with sincerity.

"I mean it," she said. "I really like you. I want us to be together. I'll do whatever it takes."

As I lay there between her legs, the heat escaping her moist seam warmed through the tip of my pulsing erection, closing in, inch by inch, led to accept the invitation offered by Mia's legs splayed out across the bed; an invitation met by the blunt, swollen head of my cock head pressed up against her slit.

Pushing forward, her spongy lips folded, easily taking me in. Her eager young pussy then swallowed my cock, slipping beyond the head, where softness enveloped my rigid shaft, warmly embraced on all sides.

I flashed back to Mom in her seamless nude hose, tempted to tear right through, only to picture Bethany and hold myself back as I relived the shame of how clumsily I'd handled deflowering her.

Sensing my hesitation, Mia whispered, seeking to calm me down.

"You seem nervous," she said, arms folded around my neck. "It's better to just do it. Don't drag it out."

"Okay," I said, reading her face, watching for signs of discomfort. "Tell me if it's too much," I added, sliding in one more inch.

Disarmingly relaxed, her calm answer took me by surprise.

"Don't worry. I'll manage. All part of being a woman," she said, wisdom beyond her years.

Warmly, I looked down, watching her face, slowly inserting the tip. Smoothly, her lips spread, drawing me in, like nylon, clinging to the shaft. Gently, I pushed in, finding her wet, walls stretching inch by inch. Bluntly, my cock head met with the spongy tissue of Mia's hymen staunchly resisting entry.

With a note to pull out at even the slightest protest, my eyes focused down at her face.

Beneath me, she tensed up, eyes locking in, legs spread, pantyhose smooth.

Right then, her chest filled, swelling with air, biting her bottom lip. Gasping, her head snapped hard to the right, wincing in sudden pain, teeth gritting through a single thrust breaching her womb, leaving only a single tear.

Softly, I came down over her breasts, filling her empty sheath.

"It's over," I whispered, smelling her hair. Hotly, she whispered back.

"No," she purred, winding her hips, ass lifted off the bed. "We're just getting started."

Tingling all over, I savored the moment, pushing in, deep as I could. Hitting her cervix, I felt a short flinch, looking down, mildly concerned.

"Am I hurting you?" Mia shook her head.

"Only when you stop," she said, spurring me on, silky legs grazed up and down.

My whole life not a single drug had given me a high like feeling Mia's pantyhose leisurely slide over my naked skin.

Though I still hadn't fully explained my addiction, the longer she kept her legs rubbing, the more it seemed like Mia instinctively knew what she was doing, with each brush bringing on harder thrusts, thus bringing on louder moans.

Like Bethany, I wanted Mia to cherish this moment, spend her life fiending for more. The difference was Mia could read my thoughts and vocally returned my feelings.

"I think I'm in love with your cock," she said, walls squeezing tight. "I love how it feels inside me," she moaned, losing her breath. "Do you like it? Do you like how it feels in my pussy?"

"Hmmmfuck yeahhh," I groaned, drilling through the mattress.

"What if I asked you to fuck me every day?"

"Huhhh mmmgawwwdd uhh I-I-dunno..."

"Tell me," she pleaded. "How can I get you to fuck me every day?"

Bluntly, the hard truth shot through her ear.

"Pantyhose!" I blurted, quick, plain and simple, to set up the greatest reaction of all time.

"That's all?" she said, voice incredulous. "Pantyhose...that's it?" she blinked. "Oh, that's easy!" she smiled, blowing my mind.

Over the moon, like a greedy kid in candy store, I stepped out and pushed my good luck.

"Also," I added, thrusting away. "When we meet new people, I want you to tell them you're my sister."

Finally, Mia balked, hands to my chest. "I'm sorry," she blinked. "You want me to what?"

Rolling to the right, she pushed me off, face muscles scrunched up tight.

"I want you to tell people you're my sister," I repeated with all seriousness.

Mia looked off, shaking her head, taking another deep breath.

"I don't get it. I mean, if it's okay to have sex with me, then why isn't okay to tell people I'm your girlfriend?"

Voice calm, smiling a bit, I looked Mia square in the eye.

"You're missing the point," I explained. "The idea is getting people to think you're my sister AND my girlfriend."

Her green eyes sparkled, beaming with joy, head leaned, signaling mine forward.

All at once, like bon fires, our first kiss seemed to ignite every molecule in my body, as our crushed lips quickly opened, tongues flicking, swapping spit, stealing each other's breath.

Feeling dizzy, I closed my eyes, as a weightless feeling, like rapture, lifted my spirit through the ceiling.

Pulling back, her pale red cheeks looked the same color as her hair.

"So," I asked, awaiting her answer. "Are you cool with that?"

Reaching up, she swept back her hair. Then, after a second, Mia looked back and lustfully answered.

"Extremely." Her eyes never looked so bold. "It's like getting two for the price of one...a cute older brother, smart, funny, sweet as can be...with a huge cock to play with as much as I want. What could be better?"

"Careful," I said, emotions stirring, too soon to give them a name. "Keep talking like that and you might get more dick than you can handle."

"Trust me," she said. "I'm always careful, but don't make promises you can't keep."

Turning away, she rolled to her left, where before the words even left her mouth, her next question drove my cock back inside.

"Can we try it this way?"

Clutching her hip, I slid my cock in, soft nylon under my fingers.

"Now you can rub my leg while you fuck me."

Had she and I been at separated at birth? No girl was really this perfect.

Thrusting from a side angle, I eagerly fucked Mia in the spoon position, pantyhose all on my mind.

Pinching the fabric between my fingers, I pulled back to hear them snap. Stretching, they snapped back, holding their shape, thus why they called them tights. Their elasticity came from Lycra, ten or twenty percent, with nylon providing a sheer, feather light, velvety texture, body heat breathing through.

As I rolled Mia onto her stomach, through the hole torn out of her glossy pink tights, her ass stuck out, round as a peach, cheeks like a heart upside down. I mounted her from behind, where her soft buns fit rather snugly beneath my stomach then began pounding against those cheeks, slamming them with my strong upper thighs.

Drilled by each hard-driving smack of my pelvis, urgently Mia pushed back, breathless for words, panting and moaning, crying out, taking each thrust.

"Haaahhhhh ohhh ohh yesss mmmmgawwwwd yesss!" she screamed. "Ohh gawwd your cock is so deep in my pussy!" She whimpered. "Hmmgawwd it feels so good! Ohh uhh uhh ohh gawwd, please baby, fuck my pussy! Fuck it as hard as you want! Fuck the shit out of it! Just don't stop! Please, don't stop! Fuck my tight little hole!"

Following orders, I jackhammered her cunt so hard Mia squealed like a banshee. With no warning and no needless pronouncements, Mia exploded with her second orgasm, gnashing and wailing, clawing at the sheets, body covered in sweat.

Trembling beneath me, Mia's juices dripped down her snatch, as I slid out my cock and looked down between her torn pantyhose, eyeing the narrow crease, darkened by shadow, lined between her upraised cheeks.

"Spread your asshole," I ordered. With one eye, she glared back over her shoulder.

"Wait?" she said, fear in her voice, resisting expectedly. "You're not thinking of... Chris, I don't know. That might be too much."

Knowing her body would never be more relaxed then after her second orgasm, with the head of my cock, ignoring her futile plea, I poked through and boldly pried open her cheeks.

"Chris, wait," she squirmed. "What are you doing?"

"Whatever it takes," I answered, upon which her asshole took quite a bit.

"Hhhhaahhhhhhhh!!

True, Mia did scream. Still, in one thrust, her backdoor opened, easily compared to her pussy, with her asshole providing a much better fit, sliding in all the way.

Buried deep, I held still on purpose, letting her rectum stretch. After a minute, I slid half way out, offering words of advice.

"I've heard it helps if you rub you clit," I said, feeling her muscles twitch.

Wonderfully submissive, Mia complied, one hand reached between her legs. Within seconds, the gyrating motion caused by her swirling fingers helped me to bugger her virgin ass while barely moving at all.

Ass raised, hips swiveling, pantyhose pushing back, in a hushed tone, I whispered down, as Mia quickened her pace.

"Talk to me. Tell me how it feels." My hips started to churn.

Mia groaned, face against the pillow, as I pushed deeper inside her bowels.

"Like you're in my stomach," she said, hissing through her teeth.

"Yeah? Does it feel good?"

Mia inhaled. "Yes and no," she said, breathing out. "Mainly feels weird, like I have to pee."

"Probably your G-spot," I nodded. "Here, let's lube it some more."

As I slid out, my cock left her asshole gaping, wide as a silver dollar. Then, over the hole, I hawked up, spit on the crack then watched the saliva roll down and drip through the sewer of Mia's O-ring.

"Now," I instructed. "Take your fingers from your pussy and rub the juices around your asshole."

The way Mia did this looked amazing. Using her middle and ring finger, up through her pantyhosed legs, she circled and smeared pussy juice around the hole, matching the nylon sheen.

"That's better," I said, eyeing the glossy halo left behind. "Now tell me what you want."

Hearing this, in full voice, Mia responded.

"I want your cock in my ass," she asked for with stunning conviction. "Please, Chris. Please fuck my tight little ass."

Turning the corner to full blown slut, right then, I recognized Mia as a godsend.

Losing control, I reared back, thrusting as hard as I could.

Head snapping, Mia cried out, wailing from her ass torn apart.

Panicked by thoughts of her really in pain, fully prepared to stop, the change in Mia's outbursts left me shocked, literally screaming for more.

"Huhhhh huhhh huhhh huhhhh," she panted with every blow. "C'mon! Fuck it! Fuck that ass hard! Ohhgawwddd ohhgawwddd yesss slam it in there! Slam your huge dick up my ass!"

Stunned beyond belief, Mia not only endured taking this ungodly punishment, she vocally relished the brutal pounding, blending euphoria with agony, utterly swept by the pleasure of sweet beautiful ultimate surrender.

Dropping her head, Mia shuddered, biting down hard on the pillow. After drilling her to what was clearly her third orgasm, I then had a new idea.

"Why don't we stand up?"

As I rolled off, Mia slid out, hopping up off the bed. Before I stood up, after scooting toward the edge, Mia dropped down to her knees. Fresh from her ass, with a loud slurp, I looked down and watched Mia suck my cock back in her mouth.

"Um," I stammered, blinking down at her. "Are you sure you want to do that?"

"Why not?" Mia shrugged, with spit bubbles webbed off her lips. "It's my ass. No worse than drinking your cum," she said, head down, sucking again. "Speaking of cum," her eyes flickered. God, she was so damn cute. "If you're ready, I'd love to taste it again, unless you're not done with my ass."

She yelped as I snatched her up, spun her around then bent her ass over the dresser.

Facing the mirror, I reached for her shoulders, watching her pretty green eyes. With two hands, I held on, penis straight out, head lined up with the hole. Wild eyed, I ripped through, turning barbaric, human devolving to beast. Watching the mirror, her green eyes scrambled, virgin ass deeply impaled. Thrust after thrust, smacking with crushing impact, her shrill cries and whimpers went unheard.

"Something wrong?" I said, sneering at her weary reflection. "I thought you wanted to be a whore. Well, this is exactly what whores get. You might want to get used to it."

"Uuhhh umm fuh...huhhh...hmmgawwddd...uhh um fuh...um fine," she gasped, head lolling, turning slightly faint. "I, I told you." She looked up, eyes glaringly defiant. "I told you to fuh...uhhh ohhh muhh gawwd...fuck me...fuck me as hard...as hard you...w-w-want!" she stuttered, almost completely out of breath. "Remember," she added, struggling to get the last word. "You prom...ohhh ohh fffucckk...you promised to c-c-cum...in my...in my mouth!"

"Is that you want? You want another hot load in your mouth?" I asked, seeing her nod. "Well, you'll have to do better than you did last night," I said, pulling out.

Speedily, Mia dropped to the floor, head flung all the way back.

Eyes wide, her smile looked hopeful, beating off over her face.

"Tell me again. Say where you want. Say it right fucking now!"

Leaning in, her steamy breath came up close to the head.

"I want you to cum in my fucking mouth! Then believe me you'll know I'm a whore!"

Over her tongue, with lightning speed, I busted hot liquid nut, head flaring, cum spitting hard, cream rising up to the top.

Eyes up, without spilling, Mia parted her lips, where inside she showed me the creamy white batter, then playfully sloshed her tongue through a pool of semen, cloudy and thick as yogurt, only to lean back, close her mouth, then swallow it all down her throat.

For several minutes, after Mia stood up to gather her clothes, the image stayed stuck in my head.

Dazed, blinking, rubbing my head, I came around slowly, aided by Mia, wiggling back into her dress.

"We should probably get going," she said, grabbing her heels.

"Yeah," I nodded, still shaken up. "We probably should."

In five minutes, I got dressed, made up the bed, then thoroughly sprayed the room with Lysol.

Down in the car, Mia seemed nervous, turning to ask me a question.

"Do you think your mom will notice the sheets?"

I started the engine then lit up, cigarette held in my lips.

"I doubt it. I covered it up pretty well. I'll wash them tomorrow."

"Cool," she said. "The last thing is need her telling my dad. I swear he'd totally disown me."

"Trust me," I nodded. "Mom made that perfectly clear," I said, turning right at the parkway.

"Makes me wonder," she said. "I mean, what if she starts to suspect something? Do you really think we can trust her?"

The question made me think for a moment. Knowing Mom's loyalty was clearly split, my logical answer was no.

"Hmm," Mia followed. "Maybe we should think of something...something to keep her from talking."

"What," I said frowning back. "Like blackmail?"

"No, nothing that harsh," she said. "But you know your mother better than I do. Has she ever been with another girl?"

I smiled instantly. "Um, yeah, actually she has."

"Perfect," she said, checking her phone. "Then I think I've got an idea," she added cryptically.

As we said goodbye, she told me her father just texted her after dropping Mom off at the house.

Coming back, I pulled up, parked out front, then walked in the kitchen and saw my mother wearing a huge diamond ring.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" I blurted, glaring at her. "What are you thinking?"

"I know. It's a little sudden," she said, staring at it, entranced. "I'll admit I may have gotten caught up in the moment, but we haven't set a date. So there's plenty of time to figure things out."

"Figure things out," I scoffed. "Mom, please, you know you don't love this guy. I can't understand how it's so easy for you to lead him on."

"Chris," she said, stepping forward. "I'm not doing this for love. I'm doing this for you. I want you to have a real family."

"Don't do that," I said, raising my hand. "Don't treat me like a kid. At least be honest enough to admit that you're being selfish."

Mom sighed, folding her arms. "Okay," she nodded. "Maybe I am. Maybe I've realized after all the shit I've put up with that I actually deserve to be happy."

Ego bruised, I nodded back, struggling to bury the hurt welling inside me.

"I see. Guess it was kind of silly of me to think I could make you happy. Clearly, I'm not enough."

"Chris, wait," she said, as I turned and walked out. I called Mia as soon as I got to my room.

* * *

For two weeks, while Mom was at work, I hooked up with Mia almost every day. Where Mom's allure came from her cool, feminine mystique, Mia met everything with this fresh, youthful exuberance, bringing a new, wonder-filled excitement to every experience. Not to say she and Mom had nothing in common, as both of them went for anything involving sexual danger.

Between Mia's roommate and Cynthia home downstairs, fucking in public proved to be safer than having sex anywhere else. Restaurant bathrooms, high school bleachers, one time at the museum, we fucked literally anytime, anywhere, even the arboretum.

Finally, using no protection, I realized we were fucking so often that Mia agreed with my suggestion to get her on birth control.

Checking in at the women's clinic, the triage nurse walked up to greet us, where Mia stood braless, wearing no shirt beneath her low-cut sweater, hard nipples poking through a powder blue cardigan, fetchingly paired with a pleated white tennis skirt, worn over flesh-colored hose, plus a touch of class added by white low-heeled mules, with a white satin headband in her hair.

Holding my hand, as we walked in, she did look extremely young.

"Is it okay to have my boyfriend with me?"

Sitting down, the nurse looked to be in her late forties; short, chubby; round, wrinkled face; short hair, blonde mixed with gray.
"Oh, absolutely, darlin," the nurse said, not a native. "So I understand you'd like to begin taking birth control. Is that correct?"

Mia nodded.

"And currently how often are you having intercourse?"

Mia shrugged. "Um, I dunno. Maybe five, six times a week."

"I see," said the nurse. "And how many partners does that include?"

"Oh," said Mia, smiling at me. "Just my boyfriend."

"Oh, how sweet." The nurse smiled. "How long y'all been together?"

"Not long, 'bout two weeks," Mia replied.

"Really, well bless your heart. How did y'all meet?"

There, on the spot, Mia convincingly told the nurse the raunchiest lie I'd ever heard.

"Well, um, it's kind of long story, but, uh...recently, Chris learned that his dad cheated with another woman years ago...turns out the woman he slept with was my mom."

"Beg your pardon," the nurse scrunched her face. "So you're saying you both have the same father? Doesn't that make y'all brother and sister?

"Well, no," Mia said, waving her hands. "Well, okay, technically yes...but, we have different mothers, plus we only met a few weeks ago. It's not like we grew up together or anything. That would be weird."

"Um, wait right here," the nurse said, jumping right up.

Quickly, she rushed toward a female doctor, slim, brown-skinned, medium height, probably from India.

Leaning in, the nurse whispered, both women turned their heads. Pen in hand, the doctor frowned, scribbling right away, writing and tearing a prescription in all of five seconds.

"Here you are," said the nurse, holding the paper, after quickly hustling right back. "I highly suggest you get this filled right away."

Mia nodded, reaching out, frowning at the nurse, who stood there and firmly held to the paper, strangely not letting go.

"Also," she said, as Mia and I stood there trying not to laugh. "Given the nature of your relationship, the doctor would like to refer you to a good therapist. She works with several in the area."

"Oh, that's okay," I said, speaking up. "I'm actually seeing one already. You might know her. Doctor Megan Sinclair."

"Only by reputation," she smirked. "But like I said, please get this filled as soon as possible. And thank y'all for coming in," she said, opening her hand, only to rudely turn away.

Leaving the clinic, we both instantly burst out laughing, three blocks from the nearest subway.

Minutes later, we boarded the train, finding a seat in the back. I looked over and noticed an older gentleman seated by himself, gray-haired, sharply-dressed, reading his morning paper.

"So I talked to your mom," Mia said, leaning against me. "She completely loved my idea, super excited."

It might have been the weed. Or it might have been Mia jerking me off, hand beneath my jacket. Either way, my brain went fuzzy, needing my memory jogged.

"I'm sorry. Tell me again?"

Mia sucked her teeth. "The bachelorette party...did you forget already?"

"Oh, right," I said, nodding along. "When is that again?"

"Day after Thanksgiving," she said. "Still working out the details, but I told her to invite all her friends."

"Cool," I said, not very happy, even with Mia's hand tenting beneath my jacket every two seconds.

"What's wrong?" she asked. "We talked about this. You said it was cool."

"Yeah, I know. But honestly, it's hard for me to get past the whole 'no boys allowed' thing."

"Ah, so you're jealous?" Mia smiled. "Sorry babe. Rules are rules. You'll just have to learn to be satisfied with what you've got."

"Yeaahh," I groaned. "Yeah, you're right..." I said, ready to bust.

Turning his head, surely, the older man saw what was up, as Mia's head slid beneath the jacket. Fist pumping, soft lips folded around the head, moaning as the evidence shot down her throat, guzzling my hot creamy load.

Sitting up, she smiled at the stranger, index up to her lips. Finally, she turned forward, reached in purse, then freshened up her lip gloss and sat there like nothing happened.

* * *

Sunday night, right before bed, a text message came in from Emma:

Emma: Hey sexy! J Just got in from LA. Love to hang out. Hit me up whenever.

The next morning, I ditched my first class, when Emma agreed to meet me down at Gold's Gym.

As I got there, Emma had clearly started without me, as I walked up and caught her mid-set.

There, doing front squats, barbell over her shoulders, I instantly recognized her insanely hard, well-sculpted body, obviously straight from Call, same legs, same ass, same golden tan, same ponytail down her back, long, braided, brown as her eyes, with tits like cannons, big guns high up, baby blue sports bra stretched out. Meanwhile, I stood there, watching her rep, back straight, ass sinking down. Then rounding toward me, her arching buttocks slowly came down, stretching out black spandex shorts.

"Nice form," I said, smiling just steps away.

Smiling back, Emma turned, finishing the rep.

"You should know," she said, clacking metal, weight setting down.

"So what's new?" I asked. "Glad to be home?"

"Hmm, yes and no," she said. "Chelsea's more into family gatherings. I'm just glad to get some time off. But I did get invited to your mother's party. That should be fun."

"Yeah," I said, long faced, "maybe for you...for me, not so much."

"Really?" she frowned back. "Why's that?"

"I dunno," I shrugged. "Guess I'd just liked to be there. But apparently, I'm banned. And it's only because I have a penis."

"Ah," said Emma, tone sexy, grinning as she slinked forward. "Yeah, that does kind of suck," she said, close enough to smell her sweat. At first, it was only the call of her voice, hinting at casual sex. Then, she moved in, eyes focused, deep, lustful brown, as if begging Please, jump my bones!

"For the record, since you brought up your penis," she added, "it's not like I could have forgot. In fact, you were actually the first person I texted when I got off the plane."

There it was, out in the open, a plain and clear offer to fuck. Still, I stood there, hesitant, scratching my head, nervous, stumbling like a loser.

"Um...God, this is awkward," I said.

Reading my thoughts, head tilted, Emma calmly stepped back.

"Is this about Mia?"

Looking up, her name brought a smile, easy and unexpected.

"Did Chelsea tell you about her?"

"Initially," said Emma. "But we also chatted on FaceTime. Cool chick, definitely way into you."

Curious, I somehow resisted the urge to ask for details, nodding and smiling instead.

"Yeah, she's pretty cool," I said, slightly embarrassed. "Sorry, if I..."

"Oh, don't worry about it," Emma said, waving her hand. "Clearly, I didn't know it was serious between you," she said, taking it in stride. Strangely, until that moment, I hadn't realized how serious it was either. Though seeing how easily Emma had dropped me in the friend zone, for an über-hot brunette like her, boys like me were clearly a dime a dozen.

"So, anyway, about your problem," she said, shifting gears. "I think I can actually help you."

"Oh," my interest piqued, "how's that?"

"Well, if it's supposed to be a girl's night out," she said, twitching her brow. "Let's turn you into a girl."

"What? No. That sounds way too gay."

Emma shrugged. "Look, you said you wanted to go. I'm just trying to help. Hair and make-up is my business. With your cute face, long lashes, high cheekbones...I'll make you look hotter than every girl there. Plus, when we're done here, we'll go to Surrender. Chelsea can help us too."

"Okay, how's she gonna help?"

"Well, first she'll take your measurements," said Emma. "Then she'll design you a dress."

"God, this is crazy," I said, shaking my head. "Besides, what am I supposed to tell Mia?"

"Nothing," Emma said. "That's the whole point...for you to see the look on her face when she sees you."

And more intriguingly, I thought, not only the look on Mia's face, but the look on Mom's as well.

"That's brilliant," I said, fully on board. "Call Chelsea. Tell her we're on our way."

At 10:30, Sunday morning, we walked in and found Chelsea alone in her back office. The store didn't open till noon.

After hugging and kissing, within five minutes, the conversation went from Emma bringing her sister up to speed, to both sisters watching me strip down to my boxer briefs, with Emma standing, Chelsea grabbing the measuring tape, heels clicking as she stepped forward and hiked up her skirt, easing the motion as she kneeled down, showing more cleavage, tits falling out of her top.

"Hmm," said Emma, tone thoughtful, eyes inspecting my bulge. "I don't know, Chels...you've really got your work cut out for you. I mean, how are you supposed to hide all that?"

Clearly the expert, with a light shrug, Chelsea answered.

"Nothing to it. All we need is the right style of pantyhose. That'll hold everything in."

"Eww," said Emma, sucking her teeth. "You're gonna make Chris wear pantyhose like an old lady?"

Shaking her head, Chelsea answered with a sigh.

"Of course not," she said. "I'll make him wear something nice. I was thinking Cecilia de Rafael. He won't even know they're on."

"Ooh, Italian. Good call."

Chelsea nodded, smiling back. "I'm thinking 22 deniers. That should be just enough compression. But they'll still feel incredibly smooth, light, soft to the touch."

The longer I stood there, cock swelling, filling out my briefs, it was only a matter of seconds before Emma decided to embarrass me, commenting on the visible effect.

"I think Chris likes the idea."

Turning back, Chelsea leaned in, holding out the tape.

"Whoa," she said, eyes widened, cock extended down my leg. "Do you normally dress left?"

With both feet spread in a wide stance, I found it amusing how Chelsea took full advantage of her knelt position, using one hand to circle the tape measure around my thigh, while the other held one end completely still, right up against my cock.

"Do I normally what?" I frowned. Chelsea had to explain

"When you wear pants, does your dick normally hang left or right?"

"Oh," I laughed. "Left usually, I think. Is that important?"

Chelsea blushed. "No, not really, just curious," she said, squeezing her hand. "You're awfully hard though. Want us to get rid of this for you?"

Silly question, I thought. Of course, I did. I wanted it badly. I just couldn't help feeling guilty.

"That's probably not a good idea," said Emma. "He's trying to be faithful to his new girlfriend."

"Oh," Chelsea said, with a pout. "Well, okay. In that case, if we're keeping things professional, then the best thing to do is figure out exactly what you like," she turned to Emma. "We just got a shipment in from New York. Why don't you try some on, give Chris some options."

On that note, Chelsea instructed Emma to pull her braid out, then walk out and model a series of sizzling hot designer dresses, black lace, white linen, deep purple silk, all short, all low-cut, and all worn with bracelets, anklets, and jangly hoop earrings, enhancing the breathtaking vision of Emma, stunning in full make-up, stilettos clacking, back and forth, office her personal runway.

"This is too much," I said, so horny my skin was burning. "At least, let me jerk off."

"Sorry," said Chelsea. "You had your chance. Besides, there's only one more."

For the grand finale, in fiery red velvet, from behind the curtain, Emma emerged in this racy, form-fitting, full-length gown, slit on both sides, tan legs exposed up to her hips, brown eyes, hair down, lips crimson red, so hot I almost cried.

"That's the one," Chelsea said. "Chris looks like he's gonna pass out. Definitely a winner."

"So," I said, shaking my head. "Is that what I'll be wearing?"

"Well, no. I can't let you wear that," said Chelsea. "But I can make something very similar, perfectly tailored for your body. And I guarantee with Emma and me working together, it's sure to be a showstopper."

Swelling with gratitude, I suddenly felt obligated to both of them for being so helpful.

"God," I said, shaking my head. "I don't even know what to say. I mean, how much does a dress like that even cost?"

Chelsea smiled. "A lot. But don't worry about it. If you want to make a donation, that's fine. I'm willing to take whatever you can spare."

Just then, the word 'donation' reminded me of the money I needed to start my business.

"Actually," I said, off the cuff. "Instead of just giving you money, what if I offered you a job?"

Interested, both sisters turned to listen, as I briefly explained to them the concept for my new porn company, including my plans to mainly focus on pantyhose and MILF videos.

Surprisingly, their reaction could not have been more supportive, with Chelsea offering to help with wardrobe and Emma wanting to help with hair and make-up.

Eager to rush home and bang out my first script, before leaving, Friday night, I promised to show up at Megan's apartment, no later than six, which gave the girls three hours to complete my makeover.

Feeling inspired, instead of studying, I stayed up writing all night. By morning, I'd written my first adult screenplay, which I aptly titled, Why Mommy Wears Pantyhose.

My only problem, as much as I wanted Mom to read it, since the day I learned of her engagement, the two of us weren't exactly on the best of terms.

When Thanksgiving came, not only did Mom invite Doug and Mia, but Joel and Cynthia dropped in too.

In pompous fashion, Doug placed himself at the head of the table, white hair matching his white shirt, barely held together, with white buttons straining over his broad, flabby, sack of a stomach.

"So," Doug stood up, lifting his wine, tapping his fork against the glass. "Since everyone's here, this seems like a perfect time to announce that Lauren and I are planning to have a Christmas wedding."

To his left, my eyes met Mom's across the table. As Doug raised her hand, she squeezed back, gazing at me, lips tightly held as she smiled.

Breaking the silence, Joel for once actually spoke up, with news of his own, awkwardly stated, yet no less stealing Doug's thunder.

"Congratulations," said Joel. "We, uh...we've actually got some news too," he said glancing at his wife. Smiling back, Cynthia gently rubbed his arm. "We're having another baby," Joel said, turning back. "We hope it's a girl. But either way, we're expecting sometime in July, maybe August."

"Fabulous news," Doug said, shaking Joel's hand. "Well done, sir. Well done. Sweetheart, that's great, isn't it?" he said, turning to Mom.

Mom returned the same tight-lipped smile. "Yes, absolutely. And I hope it's a girl too. Nothing's better than playing with your little sister," she said cryptically. "Excuse me," she stood, patting Doug's shoulder. "I think I left something in the kitchen. I'll be right back."

Had Doug truly felt anything for his new fiancée, he would have known to get up and see what was wrong. Instead, he sat there like an oaf.

"Think I'll see if she needs help," I said, hopping up. Entering the kitchen, I found Mom, verging on tears.

"I'm guessing that was probably the last thing you wanted to hear.

Leaning on the counter, Mom sniffled, nodding her head.

"I knew they'd to gone to find out," she said. "But it's hard for me to be happy for them right now."

"What do you mean?" I stepped forward. "Did you take the test?"

Mom nodded. "I actually saw my OB. The test was false. And the worst part is my cycle started this morning, of all fucking days."

"I don't get it," I frowned. "I mean, that's it? You're not pregnant. It's over, just like that?"

"It's not unusual," she said. "My body produced all the hormones that show up on an EPT. But there was no embryo. Nothing was conceived. Guess I'm just not that fertile."

I walked over, hugging her tight. "Don't think that way. Don't compare yourself to anyone else. To me, you're perfect the way you are. And you know I've always thought so."

"Thank you, sweetie. I needed to hear that. And I still love you very much."

"I love you, too, Mom," I whispered. "Now let's just get through these next few hours. Tomorrow, you can go out, get crazy and forget about all this crap. How does that sound?"

"Sounds like exactly what I need."

"Damn right," I said. "And there's one more thing. I wrote something the other day. When you've got time, I'd like you to read it. Tell me what you think."

"Is it long?"

"Couple pages," I said, shaking my head.

"Then let me see it," she said. "It's fine. They're all eating. We'll come right back."

Upstairs, I pulled out my laptop. Mom sat down on my bed.

Why Mommy Wears Pantyhose

By Chris Shepherd

[Weekday, early evening]

[Scene opens with son approaching Mom's bedroom; stands outside bedroom door.

Son sees mom still in her work clothes: white blouse, fitted black skirt, high-heeled black leather pumps, taking special note of her gorgeous legs in suntan control-top pantyhose, e.g. L'eggs Sheer Energy, Hanes Silk Reflections, etc.

Seeing herself in the mirror, Mom rubs her fingers over the hose, taking great pleasure in admiring the obvious beauty of her own legs.

Back turned, hair up, Mom lets it down, slowly unbuttoning her shirt.

Son knocks.

Mom: Oh, hey sweetie. Did you need something?

Son: No. I was just coming to ask if you wanted to go out and grab some dinner.

Mom: Sure, sounds great. I just need to change first.

Son: What for? I think you look fine the way you are.

Mom: Oh, well thank you. It's just that I've been wearing these heels all day. Plus my legs are all hot and sweaty in these pantyhose. I'd feel much better after a hot shower.

Son: Well, okay. But I'm pretty hungry. So don't take long... And by the way, just out of curiosity, I did want to ask you something.

Mom: Oh, what's up?

Son: Well, I was just wondering... I mean, you've clearly got very nice legs. So, why do you feel the need to wear pantyhose?

[Mom blushes]

Mom: Thank you. That's nice to hear. To be honest, it's mainly because my boss is really old-fashioned. But also, now that you're older, I guess it seems more modest. I'm sure you don't need to see your mother traipsing around the house in her underwear.

Son: Oh, oh I see. Okay, then. Guess I'll just wait for you in the living room.

[Mom stops him]

Mom: Wait, hang on a sec. What was that look for?

Son: What look?

[Mom smirks]

Mom: I saw that look. You're hiding something. What is it?

Son: Oh, it's nothing. It's just that I saw you a second ago. You were checking out your legs, feeling the hose. Lately, you've been doing it a lot.

Mom: Ah. So you busted me. I see. Well, in that case, let me be honest. The reason I wear pantyhose is, well, actually, they're several reasons... For one, I really love how shiny they are. I also love how tightly they hug my curves. [Slowly, Mom begins pacing back and forth] Also...whenever I walk around like this...the nylon feels great against my skin, so soft, so silky...especially against my...well, you know.

Son: I get the idea...bet that gets really distracting.

Mom: Oh, it does. [She smiles innocently]. And sometimes, when I'm at work, or on the subway, if I see a cute guy and really want to get his attention [she sits on the corner of the bed] then I'll do something like cross my legs real slow [she demonstrates] then open them a bit, give him a peek, then cross them the other way. Never fails [she giggles]

Son: Damn. You do that really well. To be honest, it's kind of turning me on.
Mom: Yes. I can see that. Would you like to play a little game?

Son: Um, sure. What kind of game?

Mom: The rules are quite simple. The loser is whoever cums first.

Son: Oh? Okay. And what if I lose?

Mom: If you lose, then I might make you bend down and lick Mommy's asshole. I'm sure it's built up a nice stench back there, all hot and sweaty, trapped in these pantyhose all day.

Son: Hmm, and if I win?

Mom: If you win, well...then Mommy will give you nice blowjob, and maybe I'll throw in another surprise.

[Mom spreads her legs, slowly masturbates. Son pulls out his cock, stands there, jerks off watching her.]

Son: God that looks so fucking hot.

Mom: Does it? Tell me why.

Son: Because...it's the way you look in those pantyhose. They make you look like a slut.

[The word "slut" causes Mom to moan, rubbing her pussy faster.]

Mom: Say it again. Call your mother a slut. Please, call me a dirty slut.

Son: You are, Mom. You are a dirty slut. That's why you like this game. You like watching your son jerk off.

Mom: Yes! Yes! I love it. I love seeing you stroke your big cock. Jerk it for me, son! Jerk it while I finger my pussy through these pantyhose!

[Mom starts to get off. Son wins the game]

Son: I win, Mom. Time to pay up.

[Mom crawls over and gives son a wet, sloppy blowjob. For full effect, she does this kneeling in front of her mirror; son can see pantyhose from behind. After a minute, before letting him cum, she pauses, getting him right to the edge]

Mom: Now, about that surprise...I need you to go and wait for me in the kitchen.

[Cut scene: Mom enters kitchen topless, wearing black heels, with black pantyhose, holding a bottle of lube. She pulls up a chair then places the seat at a 45 degree angle toward the camera, then sits down and crosses her right leg over the left.

Mom: So, for your reward, I want you to stand over here while I jerk you off.

Son: Really? Is that why you changed colors for me?

Mom: Mmm, absolutely [she rubs her thigh]. I want to see all of your cum on Mommy's legs.

Son: Mmm, sounds perfect. I'm almost there. I promise to shoot a big load.

Mom: Oh, I'm sure you will. [Son walks over behind the chair, cock pointed toward the camera. Mom applies lube, stroking, talking dirty] I know how much you love pantyhose. I know how hard they make your cock. And I'm sure nothing would make you cum harder than giving your mother exactly what she needs...a huge load covering her long, pretty legs...all over these soft, shimmering, silky black pantyhose...all over this pantyhose slut!

[Mom strokes till son finally groans, cum splatters down on her legs. Scene ends as son quietly exits. Final shot, with one finger, Mom scoops jizz off her thigh, finger slips in her mouth.]

Mom: Mmmm [She smiles, slipping finger out] Never fails.

"So," I asked, over Mom's shoulder. "Like it?"

Eyes to the screen, she quickly answered. "How soon do you think we can get everyone out of here?"

In spite of rekindling our forbidden lust, as we traveled from one family gathering to another, the holiday schedule denied us the chance to have make-up sex.

Still, I did remember to mention my offer to help Bethany with her band, though till then I hadn't had any luck with booking them a venue on my own.

Turning to Mom, she frowned with concern, as I came to her looking for help.

"You realize you're asking me to help you do the same exact work as your father?"

Actually, until then, it hadn't occurred to me at all, though it helped to explain why her face suddenly filled with dread.

"Doesn't mean I won't help you," Mom said. "But it could run the risk of bringing up some old wounds..."

* * *

Friday night, headed to Oasis, I'd gone a whole week without sex.

Initially, I hadn't planned it that way. But the way things had been between me and Mom, living like actual roommates, combined with the hectic pace of Thanksgiving, and Mia planning Mom's party, seven days after my subway handjob, I sat there in Megan's apartment, with Emma applying some last minute eye shadow, feeling unusually backed up, with a steady pressure inside my balls, as I looked up and saw Emma's mother return, apparently, back from shopping.

In a black, V-neck, leotard top, blue jeans, black knee-high boots, after busting in, Megan jumped back, stunned by what she'd just seen.

"My word, what have you done to him?"

"Mom, would you hurry up," said Emma. "We're supposed to be there at ten."

Desperate to see myself, Emma insisted I wait till she finished, keeping me away from all mirrors.

After three hours of painful waxing and plucking, then more time letting things set, not to mention a knee-bruising lesson on walking in heels, all in all, the whole lengthy process left me with a powerful new respect for women, though all the work would be meaningless, if the end result didn't look hot.

Nerves wracked by Megan's reaction, giving no indication of what she thought, I sat there and listened, hardly amused, as Chelsea and Emma coldly evaluated me like an object.

"So, what do you think?" said Chelsea, in a deep purple, off-shoulder, sexy, silk dress, the one Emma modeled at the store.

Beside her, her sister, Emma, filled out black lace; with hauntingly deep brown eyes beautifully matching the mystery of her long, wavy dark hair.

"I think he looks like Jennifer Lawrence," Emma remarked.

"Oh, no way," Chelsea argued. "She's got a chubby face. Definitely more like Paris Hilton."

"Actually, you're both wrong."

After changing quickly, Megan returned, draped in shimmering gold sequins. Drooling, my eyes dropped to her large, motionless D-cups, boldly protruding as she walked forward, dress strapless, hemline short, tight and sparkly like champagne.

"Damn," I said, eyelids snapping like camera shutters.

"You like?" Megan twirled. Emma sucked her teeth.

"Seriously, Mom...do you always have to upstage us?"

Megan smiled. "Um, what's that expression the kids use...'don't hate, appreciate.'"

"Anyway," Emma rolled her eyes. "If we're so wrong, please educate us, oh wise one."

"Well, I think you're both very close," Megan said. "But I see more of a young Gwyneth Paltrow," she noted, nodding with approval. "How does the dress feel?"

"Great," I said, hand running down my sleeve. "Almost as smooth as the pantyhose."

"Almost?" Megan smiled again.

Crossing my leg, the friction against my cock made my spine tingle.

"I've only worn them once before. But I think I'm spoiled for all other brands."

Chelsea nodded, voicing her opinion. "If you're planning to do something like rob a bank, then buy American. If you want genuine pantyhose to wear on your legs, then buy Italian. Mom taught me that."

Agreeing with Megan's learned opinion, I turned back and noted her sheer nude hose, from the hemline down to her feet, with clear polished nails and rolling arches, propped up in gold, high-heeled sandals.

About to comment, Chelsea urgently noted the time, sending us off in a rush.

In red stilettos, I scuttled along, struggling to ignore the pleasure of exquisitely fibrous Italian nylon blanketing my cock, surprisingly, much harder to take than simply walking in heels.

On the road, Emma drove, Megan beside her, as I sat in back seat, next to Chelsea, legs twitching at every red light, as Chelsea and Emma concocted a friendly wager on the way.

"So let's make this a drinking game," Emma said. "If any guy comes over and tells Chris he looks like a famous celebrity, then we'll all do a shot, except for the person who got it right."

Ten minutes later, with Megan's connections, we entered the club through a secret VIP elevator, never checked for ID.

Roped off, surrounded by guys, all of us nicely buzzed, with bottle service, we took up one couch, dance floor in walking distance.

Flocking in greater numbers than expected, pick-up lines swarmed in from men of all ages. And just as predicted, the first dozen all referenced some famous blonde.

Long-sleeved, the dress hid my arms, with a mock neck over my Adam's apple. A shell of red velvet swelled from my chest, bra padded, seemed like real tits.

On Emma's advice, I spoke very little, smiling, nodding a lot, as I stood there with men comparing me to all sorts of famous blonde women, from Gwen Stefani to Scarlett Johansson, and every girl on our list.

"Has anyone ever said you look like Gwyneth Paltrow?"

"For a second, I swore you were Paris Hilton!"

"This might sound cheesy, but I really loved you in 'The Hunger Games.'"

Over my shoulder, as the four of us lifted our shot glasses up, I turned right and quickly recognized Cynthia, or I should say, she recognized me.

Where some blondes might have been threatened faced with another, compared to most women (real women that is...) Cynthia's assets gave her good reason to feel no one there could compete.

In white hoop earrings, blonde hair teased to the roof, wearing form-fitting Lycra, tight on the hips, Aunt Cindy walked in, dropping jaws, in a scant, teal blue, open back, halter dress, side boob left and right, barelegged forgivably, while wearing the same, strappy white platforms from our infamous photo shoot.

Gawking, she stopped over, swearing out loud several times. "No fucking way! No fucking way!"

"Astonishing, isn't it?" Megan said, sipping her drink.

Behind Cynthia, astonished is how I reacted too, when Mia appeared next with shocking effect.

In porn star couture, I imagined Mia had no problem getting past security, wearing nothing but only a pink fishnet top, with nipples piercing though her tangerine bra, and pussy lips outlined by white spandex pants, propped up on bright yellow heels.

Walking toward me, head slightly tilted, her green eyes spread open wide.

With barely a second to revel in that exciting moment, my mother, the guest of honor, arrived.

Accompanied by likely her two best friends, she walked up flanked by a striking redhead, and a snobby yet fuckable blonde, all of them matching in black and white outfits, drawing the focus toward their legs.

Similar in height, each of them stood there in black bras and open white shirts. Half unbuttoned, their shirts came down, too short to cover their hips. Yet, standing out most, even in shadow, were legs darkened by misty black pantyhose raised over shiny black heels.

Kelly had big, curly, long, auburn hair; Robin, a dull sandy blonde. Ear length, all in place, part to the left, like newswomen with short business cuts, the style was very fair and balanced. Nonetheless, though she wasn't the hottest, combined with Kelly and Mom's beautiful, shoulder-length, wavy brown hair, the slim-figured, white-on-black, forty-something trio, overall, still took my breath.

Scanning the group, it took Mom all of two seconds to look my way, flash her eyes open, face turning white as her shirt.

"Um, excuse me," Cynthia said, waving her arms. "Could somebody please get this woman a drink?"

Instead of approaching, or turning to Kelly and Robin, explaining what she'd seen, to dull her senses, Mom went to Megan, each downing vodka martinis, as Mia came over, Cynthia too, both of them visibly impressed.

Palms up, Cynthia enunciated each syllable.

"You look SO hot!"

Mia followed, hinting regret. "Yeah, you really do," she nodded. "Wish I'd thought of it."

As we were talking, since Mom had forgotten her manners, leaving her friends stranded, with Chelsea and Emma to my left, Kelly walked over and introduced Robin as her girlfriend.

"Hi, I'm Chelsea," the girl in purple said first. "This is my sister, Emma. And that lady over there on her third martini...that's our mother."

As Chelsea pointed toward Megan, I turned and saw Dante between her and Mom, leaning in awfully close.

"Nice to meet you," said Kelly, turning to me. Up close, she really looked like a young Julia Roberts. "So are you friend or family?"

"Family," I said, not thinking. Cynthia smartly jumped in.

"This is my niece, um...Christine. She's visiting for Thanksgiving, figured I'd bring her along."

The small talk continued. Meanwhile, my eyes shifted back and forth between them and Dante flirting with Mom. For ten minutes, not only did Mom allow this man to run his familiar hand from her arm, to her shoulder then slowly down her back, her laughter and hair flips, lips wetted every few seconds, clearly encouraged him using every seductive tactic in Megan's book.

"Does anyone else want to dance?" Mia said, as I turned back and caught her smiling at me.

In five-inch heels, I'd barely survived walking from the car, choosing to stay back and watch.

"I'll dance with you," Cynthia said, leading Mia off to the floor.

Kelly and Robin followed as well. Meanwhile, I stood there, staring at Mom, jealousy fueled by tequila.

Turning to Emma, I bluntly asked. "So what do you think's going on over there?"

"What, with Dante?" Emma said, turning toward him and Mom. "From here, it looks like your standard power play...two people obviously flirting on purpose, trying to get what they want."

"Oh," I said, fearing the worst. "Should I be worried?"

"I doubt it," said Chelsea. "I'm pretty sure it's all business. With Dante, it usually is. The bigger question is what's going on over here," she said, pointing to the floor.

Turning my head, in full embrace, Kelly and Robin grinded each other through their pantyhose, legs spread, pelvises thrusting, flashing their sexy black thongs.

Beside them, illuminated by strobe lights, Mia and Cynthia weren't just dancing, but full on tongue kissing in plain view of everyone.

"So, earlier you said something about you and Mia being exclusive," Emma said, shaking her head. "I don't think she got the memo."

"Come on, sis," Chelsea said, grabbing Emma's hand. "Let's show 'em how it's done."

Granted, at that point, I couldn't fully ignore how Mom shamelessly threw herself at Dante, seemingly done out of spite. Yet, something happened as Mia looked over, two of us gazing eye to eye.

Aided by Rihanna, Mia faced forward, Cynthia standing behind.

Letting me watch, Mia as they say 'dropped it low' then slowly rose up, flipping her reddish-blonde hair. Turning around, she stuck out her ass, arms over Cynthia's shoulders. Hips popping on the one and the two, she turned her head, mouthing the words.

Come here, rude boy, boy...can you get it up?

Come here, rude boy, boy...is you big enough?

Take it, take it, baby, baby

Take it, take it, love me, love me...

Spinning forward, lost in the beat, she rolled her slight torso like a serpent. Blown away, I couldn't stop watching, penis bracingly hard beneath the hose.

Helpless, the call of her siren-like movement finally compelled me forward. Then Mom marched over, followed by Megan, announcing a change in plans.

"Everyone back to the limo," Mom said, leading us all outside.

"So where are we going?" Mia wondered, sitting to Cynthia's right.

"Hopefully, a male strip club," Cynthia followed. Megan smiled, patting her leg, bloody charming speaking in her accent.

"Sorry, love. Nothing as exciting as all that. Just going back to my flat."

Having said goodnight to Chelsea and Emma, who'd made plans to stop at another party, I sat legs crossed, facing my mother, Kelly and Robin to her left.

Heat and pressure all through my crotch forced me to shift around often. To cool off, I spread my legs, watching Mom's eyes, flashing quick peeks at my cock.

White blouse down to her waist, black pantyhose from waist down, as if to beat me at my own game, she leaned back and looked off, clearly on purpose, then fluidly began crossing and re-crossing her legs, thighs rubbing, pantyhose swishing, back and forth, five or six times.

As Mom intended, within seconds, the hemline of my short dress slowly rose up, legs spreading to accommodate my bulky erection beneath the hose, a full, undeniable, massive hard-on extended so far that any second Kelly and Robin were sure to notice the head peeking out.

"So, um," Mom said, starting to squirm. "Before we go up," she said, turning to her left. "There's something the two of you should know."

"Okay," Kelly nodded.

"Well, it's about Christine," Mom said. "She's not exactly what she seems," she added, turning to me. "Is it okay to tell them now?"

With goose bumps, I sat there, lost for words, silently nodding back.

"Okay, here it is," Mom said, exhaling first. "Christine was actually born a man. Right now, she's in the process of...what do they call it?"

"Transitioning," said Megan, perfumed beside me.

"Yes, transitioning," Mom repeated.

Looking up, skeptically, Robin quirked her head. Kelly looked back and smiled. Then Mom turned and gave me this hot, subtle wink, letting me know it was on.

* * *

With a grand view of Boston Harbor, right on Rowes Wharf, what Megan humbly described as her 'flat' was a luxury penthouse condo, easily worth one or two million.

A study in opulence, the front doors opened to a set of Greek pillars raised over white marble floors. Bedrooms left, kitchen right, straight ahead, the floor stepped down to a plush beige carpet, chandelier bright overhead.

"God, this place is like a museum," Kelly said, noting the art-covered walls. "Is that a Monet?"

"Renoir," Megan said, "a gift from my husband."

Passing a long, white, soft leather couch, Kelly continued, crossing the room, toward a fireplace in the far left corner, leaning in toward the mantle.

"Is this your other daughter?" she asked, pointing at one of the pictures.

Megan nodded back. "Yes, that's Daphne."

"She's beautiful," Kelly said, holding the picture up close. "And who is she with? Is that your sister?"

"Oh, no," Megan shook her head. "That's Daphne's godmother."

"Oh. Oh, okay. She looks kind of familiar."

Robin walked over, taking the picture from Kelly's hand.

"That's Nigella Lawson," said Robin, turning to Megan. "You know her?"

"Oh, yes. We're old friends," Megan replied. "We took that photo in London on holiday. Would anyone care for a drink?"

Cynthia flopped on the loveseat, facing the window.

"I'd love a glass of red wine," she said. "Just one though...doctor's orders."

"Coming right up," Megan said. "Lauren, would you care for something?"

"No, thank you," Mom said. "I'm just enjoying the view. Do you mind if I step out here on the balcony?"

"Not at all. Make yourself at home." Megan said, turning to Kelly and Robin. "Ladies, can I bring you something?"

"Sure," Kelly said. Mom quietly stepped outside. "Any hot British men back there...maybe Jude Law, Christian Bale, someone like that?

Robin shot her a look. "Ignore that. She only likes dick when she's drunk."

Shaking her head, Megan turned and walked toward the kitchen, while outside, Mia joined Mom, beginning what looked like an oddly deep conversation.

"No offense," Cynthia rebutted. "But I have to agree with Kelly. It's not a party till someone pulls out a cock."

"None taken," Robin said. "I might be gay, but I do know how straight girls think."

"Well," Cynthia challenged, blue eyes turning to me. "Are you just gonna stand there and look pretty, or show these ladies what you've got?"

To question my manhood, with no sex for one whole week, underneath my light, silky, pantyhose-draped exterior, Cynthia's statement had rudely awoken the sleeping giant between my legs.

As four cougars watched from all sides, I stood there square center, palms over thighs, pantyhose shiny and bright, then reached down, focused on Kelly, and slowly eased up my dress.
Gasping in fright, Kelly reared back, right hand up to her mouth. Turning away, she pointed her finger, calling to Robin in shock.

"Oh my God, do you see that?"

Robin shrugged. "What I see is a tall, skinny man in drag that happens to have a large penis."

Dismissing her lesbian girlfriend's response, the redhead promptly stepped forward.

"No argument there," said Kelly, head down, staring between my legs. "But I could think of some better ways to describe it."

Standing close, Kelly leaned toward my chest, as I looked up over to Robin. Lifting her head, Kelly flipped her red hair, meeting me eye to eye.

Flattening her palm, Kelly reached out, hand gently pressing the shaft. "Like, oh, I don't know." She looked up, tilting her head. Outside the hose, I felt her hand squeeze, palm sliding up from the base. "One fat fucking whale of a cock."

"Okay," Robin sighed. "Listen, I've had a good time. I think you're all very nice people. But honestly, can we please stop the charade?"

"Jesus, Robin." Kelly rolled her eyes. "What the fuck are you talking about?"

"What am I talking about? Oh, come on. Give me a break. We all know that's Lauren son."

"What are you high or something?" Kelly scoffed. "This is Cynthia's niece. She's transgendered. Show some fucking respect."

Robin smirked. "You see, this is problem with bisexuals. You're never completely satisfied. You always want the best of both worlds."

"You know what, fuck you, Robin!" Kelly snapped, spinning me around. "I don't care who he is." Megan returned, in her gold dress, bearing Cynthia's wine. "All I know is I need some cock!" Kelly blurted, forcefully stripping me down.

Grabbing my hand, Kelly pulled hard, dragging me off to the couch. Still in my wig, high heels kicked off, dress and bra tossed to the floor, as Kelly grabbed Robin, Cynthia accepted her wine. Then Megan decided to sit beside Robin, as Kelly pushed her girlfriend down.

Cynthia watched from the loveseat off to my left. While far to my right, Mom seemed content to remain with Mia out on the balcony. Meanwhile, in front of me, down on the couch, Robin seated to her left, after pulling me forward, I looked down and saw Kelly's claws coming out, as she leaned in and reached toward the hose.

"Uh-uh, no ripping," I said, hands up, backing her off.

Looking on, Kelly stayed put, poised on the edge of her seat. Then inches away, I stood there and patiently exposed myself, hands sliding down my sides. At the waistband, avoiding a run, I carefully hooked my thumbs. Then, to ease them down, as if I'd been doing it my whole life, I rocked my hips, slowly, shifting side to side, with Kelly watching me peel my pantyhose down.

Wetting her lips, Kelly leaned in, waistband under my balls. Looking down, my white shaft extended over the black nylon covering her legs, head flaring, veins bulging on all sides.

Weakly, Kelly's head fell forward, moaning with utter relief. Eyes shutting, she took my cock in, warmed by the heat of her mouth. Savoring the flavor, she kept her head still, as if it was something she'd missed. Dating a woman, like turning vegan, denied Kelly certain joys. Thus given how Kelly moaned, dribbled and slobbered my precious knob, the succulent mouth-feel of thick, beefy cock must have been high on her list.

Waistband slid down under my ass, balls nested on the crotch, palm up, Kelly reached, cradling my scrotum, fondling it through the gusset, as her free hand filled up, squeezing my shaft, cock popped out of her mouth, where she noisily blew spit bubbles and rubbed the head, back and forth, over her lips.

Stone faced, Robin looked on, never smiling at all. Humiliated no doubt, as she sat there cross-legged for several minutes, while Kelly gorged herself like a homeless woman, fully unconscious, till eventually, Robin cracked, directing a question clearly intended to prick Kelly's guilt reflex.

"Enjoying yourself?"

For my sake, as Robin spoke, I almost thanked her for the distraction.

Lips tight, cheeks hollowed, fist pumping hard, the intensity behind Kelly's short shallow sucks had me seconds from nutting in her mouth.

"Mmphhh ohhgawdd isshhogood!" Kelly slobbered, turning to Robin. "You gotta try it," she added, giving me time to relax.

"Sorry," Robin smirked. "You couldn't pay me to put that thing in my mouth."

"Oh, really?" said Kelly, head turned, fingers wrapped vigorously stroking. "I've seen you suck dildos. Don't pretend you're not curious."

"That's different. Dildos aren't real. Plus, we are talking about Lauren's son," Robin repeated. "Besides, even if I was curious, which I'm not, I wouldn't give head for the first time in front of all these people."

"That's it?" Kelly said, smiling, shaking her head. "That's all you've got? You've eaten me out in a public bathroom, more than once. Plus, remember when we went cliff diving in Guatemala...you gave me that impassioned speech about facing my fear. Well, I jumped, didn't I? So go on, tell me, what's your excuse?"

"Oh," Robin looked back, folding her arms. "So you think I'm scared?"

"I don't know," Kelly shrugged. "Are you?"

Hearing this, Robin inhaled, raising her chin. With a deep breath, her chin came down, eyes falling toward the long, veiny, spit-covered member, throbbing in Kelly's right hand.

"Move," Robin said, heels to the floor, Kelly brushed out of the way

Knees turned, hands in her lap, fingers spread over black hose, having just admitted she knew who I was, her best friend and coworker's son, I looked down and watched Robin slowly lean in, eyes never looking up.

Testing the waters, she flicked out her tongue, softly across the tip.

Spreading her mouth, she went down an inch, stopped short below the head. Sighing, she pulled back then shook her head, willing herself to try again.

"That's good," Kelly said. "Just take your time. Pretend it's a really huge clit."

Clearing her throat, on her third try, Robin opened her mouth then went down one, two, three inches past the head, foreskin grazing her tongue.

"Beautiful," Kelly said. "Now, slowly move your head and suck really hard...helps if you use your hand."

Stopping again, Robin turned, scowling, clearly fed up.

"This is hard enough without you yammering the whole time. Could you please just shut the fuck up?"

Hands up, Kelly leaned back. "Fine, don't say I didn't try to help you."

Turning back, hands on her sides, on her fourth try, Robin went down halfway, reluctant to move her head.

Needing some friction, I set my hand down on Robin's head, hips sawing, slowly at first, shaft sliding in and out. Horny as fuck, I must not have realized how far I started to push.

"hnGluRkh huhh hnGluRkh huhh ggluRrkk ggluRkk huhhHH!!"

Panicking, Robin pushed off my hand.

"Screw this. His dick is way too big," Robin whined. "It's making me gag."

"Sorry," I said, hoping to boost her morale. "You're doing great though. I can't believe it's your first time."

Surprisingly, hearing this, Robin smiled.

"First time," she said, nodding back, "with a real penis, anyway. Like Kelly said, I've handled some pretty big dildos."

Nodding, I smiled back. Thankfully, the pep talk helped Robin regain her nerve, stunning me as her jaw dropped open, cock swallowed hard, then back and forth, bobbing her head.

Hips jolted, the shock of it caught me off guard, semen escaping, not much, though just enough to freak her out.

"Ewww!" Robin squealed, head launching back. "No, no, I can't do this. His stuff is leaking!"

Sucking her teeth, Megan jumped in, accent filled with disgust.

"Oh, for heaven's sake, quit being so dramatic."

Suddenly, with a strong grip, Megan pulled me over, hands set firm on my hips.

Balls swollen, head spewing, pre-cum no way to contain, where Robin retreated, Megan charged in, headlong, cock down her throat.

Throat clogged, Megan gurgled, head pulling back, where unlike Robin, she swirled her wet tongue, relishing my manly secretions. Skillfully, Megan went down again. Then, inside her mouth, her tongue continued its skillful acrobatics, swirling and fluttering as she sucked. Drawing back, she looked up with big brown eyes, drool stringing down from her lips. Seeing her face, I instantly wanted to cast her in my next scene, as her right hand came down, squeezing the base, dick slapped against her tongue.

Cock slobbing, pace frantic, bobbing, twisting her head, she reached down and started to play with her pussy, where faster rubbing led to harder and deeper sucking, over sexy nude pantyhose, masturbating, building her pleasure, equally building mine as well.

"Fuck yeah," Cynthia said, turning my head. "Now that's how you suck a cock!"

Quiet till then, normally the one to show off, dress hiked, legs spread, Aunt Cindy diddled her pussy, huge tits both pulled out, bottom lip gnawed as she played with her nipples, loving her nephew's show.

Slumped back, out of breath, finally, Megan gasped.

"Good God, what am I doing?" she said, head bowed in shame. "I swore I wouldn't do this again, not with another patient," she added, shaking her head. "Please, someone, take it away. Take it away, right now."

Hands down, Kelly spoke up, legs spread, ripping her hose.

"Hell, if she doesn't want it," Kelly offered, sliding her thong to the right. "Then here's a good place he can stick it."

Quickly, I rushed toward the arm of the couch, where I pulled Kelly up, spun her toward Robin then sent her down with a hard shove.

Bent over, hose ripped, thong to the side, with two hands, I snatched back her long, auburn hair, then I reared back and drilled Kelly's snatch.

Pussy railed, Kelly warbled, spinning Robin's head. As I started to thrust, though Robin said nothing, the look of horror I saw on her face suggested a question like, "Jesus Christ, what are you doing to her?"

Ignoring her look, I took full control, packing meat in and out.

Building speed, Kelly screamed louder, hips slapping, head snapping back.

Slamming each second, pounding full force, her halted speech echoed the smacking noises made by each violent thrust.

"Oh-my-God-his-COCK-is-so-fuck-ing-BIG!"

Hearing this, Robin turned and faced Kelly, sitting up, on her knees.

"Oh, is it?" said Robin, reaching out, hand wrapped around Kelly's neck. "Is this what you wanted? Are you happy now? Are you happy you're getting fucked?!"

"YES!" Kelly moaned. "I LOVE to get FUCKED! I LOVE to get FUCKED with big COCK!"

In my blonde wig, like a Viking ravishing a redheaded wench, Kelly was given no quarter. Hips swinging, muscles flexing, chunks of hair in each hand, I threw into Kelly, smashing her walls, like Thor swinging Odin's hammer.

"Finally," Robin sneered, "the truth comes out. But what if it was me? How would feel watching me get fucked?"

Kelly cried out, her reaction likely the opposite of what Robin expected.

"Oh God I'm gonna cum! Oh fuck! Oh ohh ohh yesss! Hrrmmgawdd I'm cumming!!"

Right then, I shoved my cock deep, buried in, all the way. Head back, hair in my face, Kelly shuddered then went limp and slumped over the arm of Megan's couch, where Robin peered over her girlfriend's body, her needful eyes turning back to me.

As I pulled out, I saw a flash, turning my head toward the balcony. Outside, posing together, standing cheek to cheek, Mia held out her iPhone, as Mom curled one arm around her shoulder, then a second flash, lighting their smiles, urged me to go out and join them.

Clearly offended, as I walked off, Robin stopped me mid-step.

"Excuse me," she said. "You're not leaving now, are you?"

Turning back, Robin still knelt on the couch, right hand between her legs. Eyes up, no smile, reaching down, between two fingers, over her thong, she pinched the black nylon and stretched it out far enough to take her free hand, poke through it then make a hole wide enough to tear the crotch open like a bag of chips.

Hopping up, Megan made room, standing by Cynthia on the loveseat.

Lengthwise, flat on her back, Robin opened her legs. Meanwhile, voice troubled, Kelly knelt down and leaned over Robin.

"You don't have to do this."

Robin coldly batted her eyes then glibly answered. "Neither did you."

Sweaty, scalp itching, before I walked over and climbed on the couch, I first took off the wig, then swiftly peeled the pantyhose off my legs.

"Okay," I said, head over Robin, "last chance to back out."

"Trust me," she said. "I can take it as hard as she can."

Calling her bluff, I grabbed her legs, knees pinned to her chest. Rearing up, high off the couch, cock like an iron spike, I sledgehammered down, nail in the hole, cringing as Robin screamed.

Dropping anchor, lesbian or not, pussy surprisingly wet, heels up, legs spread, pantyhose soft in my hands, I intended to make Robin an example for these women who'd foolishly pushed my buttons.

Hips springing, cock stabbing, blow after blow, my dick must have looked like a pogo stick, striking down, launching back up.

"You could have backed out," I sneered, showing no pity, grinning at Robin's response.

"Eat shit asshole! Just shut up and fuck me! Fuck me hard motherfucker!"

At that point, I lost track of all that was happening. Though I do remember I looked up and saw Mom, behind double glass, outside alone with Mia, lost in their own little world.

Facing the ocean, with Mia beside her, Mom leaned over the rail. As she bent over, her white cotton shirt crept up, sheer-to-waist pantyhose in view. Meanwhile, to her right, Mia bent over as well, with white spandex fully filled out by her sumptuous bubble butt too.

Reaching out, Mom turned to Mia then combed her fingers through Mia's hair. The final image, the one that stuck with me long after that night, was Mom leaning in, Mia as well, both of them joining lips; mother and girlfriend tongue kissing hard. From there on, time stood still.

"Chris! Chris!" I turned and saw Megan over my shoulder. "You can stop now. She came already."

Below me, shaking, Robin lay, gasping and clutching her chest.

"Christopher, good God," said Megan. "For a moment, it seemed you'd gone completely mad."

Standing up, I turned toward her, shaking my head.

"Oh dear," she said, gazing down at my balls. "I've never seen testicles swollen like that. You must be in awful pain."

"Hmm," I said, feeling more woozy than anything. "They do feel kind of numb. Otherwise, I'm fine."

For a moment, I could see her thinking. Then Megan turned, walked by Cynthia and sat on the arm of the loveseat.

"I have an idea," she said, crossing her legs. "I'm sure all you need is the right stimulation. Fortunately, I've treated you long enough to know what that is," she added, crooking her finger. "Come stand over here."

Taking her orders, I walked up and stood beside her, listening as Megan continued.

"I'm sure you enjoyed getting to dress up and wear pan-tee-hose all night. And in case you were wondering, I'm actually wearing the same brand." As Megan said this, she set it her hand down to her thigh then smoothly ran it over the nylon sheathing her crossed right leg. "But seeing how you've chosen to take yours off. Perhaps, you'd enjoy rubbing your cock against mine."

On that note, she took my hand, leading me one step forward. Legs crossed, right leg on top, after slightly lifting her right knee, she reached down, held my hip then guided my cock through the narrow space there between her silky thighs.

"There you go," Megan smiled. "Now, aren't these the smoothest, most wonderful pantyhose ever? Don't they feel good against your cock?"

As I quietly listened, I delighted at finding the sweet spot so quickly, right along the crease behind her knee. Moving my hips, Megan spoke words of encouragement. "Yes, that's it," she said. "That's right, back and forth, just like that. Slide your cock between my legs."

Surely, on any other day, I probably would have cum within two seconds. Yet, oddly, my senses were so overloaded that I barely felt anything, frustrated, to say the least.

"Hmm," Megan frowned. "I was certain that would work. Here, let's try another position."

Beyond anxious, for the first time that night I felt scared. What had I done to myself? Had I held back my orgasm so long that I couldn't cum at all?

Standing up, Megan turned around and leaned forward, hands rested on the arm of the couch.

"Kneel down," she said. As I stood behind her, she reached down and hiked up her dress waist high.

Knees to the carpet, gold heels between my legs, I settled my eyes on Megan's ass, where vertical stitching, the thing that separated pantyhose from mere stockings, lined down the middle of her cheeks.

Moving in, hands on her thighs, nylon against my fingers, I closed my eyes, using all my effort to focus on that exquisite moment. Balls bloated, cock throbbing, shaft purple and sore, as hard as I tried, I couldn't block out my discomfort.

Eyes closed, I felt Megan bring her legs together, hard-on straining between her knees and ankles, where she offered relief, through a quality of nylon so light, so fine, so magically smooth, as she squeezed my cock, firmly in place, pantyhose soft on both sides.

"Go on, love. Put your face on my bum," she said. Of course, I was way ahead of her. "That's a good boy. Now, let's try this again, shall we? Slide your cock back and forth, fast or slow, doesn't matter...so long as you cum on my feet."

That was the moment I really started to worry. Something was definitely wrong. In the kind of moment I dreamed of, my muscles felt like they'd froze. Thrusting between Megan's calves, without question, her pantyhose felt incredible. Still, no matter what I did, regardless of whether I humped her legs fast or slow. In the end, all I got was raw foreskin, and a deep sense of failure and frustration.

"Hmm, still nothing," Megan said, staring down.

"Nope," Cynthia said, tilting her head. "If anything, they've gotten bigger."

Standing up, I turned my head left, over toward the sliding glass door.

"Okay," Mom said, walking back in. Mia followed behind. "You girls are having way too much..."

As I turned forward, Mom gaped down, hand shooting up to her cheek.

"Chris, oh my God! Your balls look like plum tomatoes!"

Promptly, she rushed forward, Mia as well, as I stood there, wobbling, dazed and confused, listening as Mom took charge.

"How did this happen?" she said, glaring at Cynthia.

"Not sure," she said. "I think he's just overstimulated."

"Get me some lube," she said, turning to Megan. "I'm sure you've got some around here."

"Yes, of course. It's in the bathroom."

"Great," Mom said. "It's probably better to do it there anyway. God knows what'll come out."

On that note, Mom led me to the master bathroom, where she hopped up and sat on the sink, joined by Cynthia, the former nurse, whom Mom wanted there for clinical assistance.

While the bathroom accommodated six women, I hadn't expected all of them to pile inside. Yet, Kelly and Robin stood to Mom's left, wearing pained expressions, more appropriate for a car wreck, while following them, Mia walked up and stood to my left. Then Cynthia came up and stood behind me, taking the lube, which Mom had already found, before Megan leisurely walked in, showing up last.

Hand to my hip, Mom pulled me close, balls rested softly on her leg. Left over right, her pantyhose swished, legs briskly crossed together.

Suddenly panicked, between her and Mia, I turned to Mom, scrunching my brow.

"Mom, wait," I said, glancing at Mia. "What are you doing?"

"What do you think I'm doing?" she said, spitting in her hand. "Somebody has to jerk you off. No one else bothered to do it. So once again Mom has to save the day."
That was her plan, to jerk me off, in front of everyone, including Mia. Was she nuts?

With a chill down my back, certain my new girlfriend would run out, I turned and saw Mia's eyes brightly lit up. What the fuck? She even smiled.

"It's okay," she said, hand to my chest. "She told me everything."

Dumbstruck, I stood there blinking liked she'd spoken German.

"Told you everything about what?"

"Her problem," said Mia, turning me to Mom.

"What problem?" I asked, as Mom smiled at Mia. Mia smiled back.

"Well," Mom said. "It's not exactly a problem," with this she wrapped her warm fingers around my cock. "I just told her the truth."

Softly, against her sheer, silky hose, she then rubbed the tip of my dick.

"I told her how much I'm addicted to your cock," Mom said.

Firmly, her grip tightened. Then, slowly, Mom started to stroke, hazel eyes gazing adoringly.

"I told her how much I love being your pantyhose slut," Mom admitted, left hand opening her blouse. "And I told her that nothing gives me more pleasure than making you cum on my legs."

Picking up speed, Mom jerked me off, slick fingers whipped up and down. "Now," she said. "Come on, sweetie. Be a good boy. Give Mommy what she wants."

Teeth gritting, I groaned through the aching level of pressure building inside my balls. Eyes shutting, I fought through it, head swinging back, calmed by only the familiar sweetness of Mom's precious voice, her loving tone dating back years.

"Come on, baby. Don't hold back," she urged. Her fist slapping noises echoed throughout the porcelain chamber. "I know you can do it, sweetie. I know you can shoot a ton of hot cum, cover these long, pretty legs."

Head down, she spit on the tip. With a low moan, her needy voice returned.

"Please, baby. You know Mommy wore black pantyhose for you. Mommy just wants her reward. You understand, sweetie? That's all Mommy wants...to just feel that first warm splash. Then Mommy wants to look down and see all of her little boy's cum rolling down Mommy's thighs. Mmm, yes, seeing that would make Mommy very happy," she purred, yearning for it. "Will you do that sweetie? Will you cum on these pantyhose for Mommy? Will you cum now for Mommy, all on her legs, turn her black pantyhose white?"

Emphatically, my balls answered for me, projecting semen so far, the first shot flew out like Halley's Comet, a rocketing streak of white, traveling and slashing across Robin's legs, then another, then another, soaring like streamers, sending white lines striping across black nylon, crisscrossing down her thighs.

Off in the distance, as my penis continued to ejaculate, I vaguely made out a young man's groans, only to realize, after hearing them over and over, that the groans were actually mine, only then did I hear Robin yelping, spinning away from the blast, where more jism unfortunately struck behind her knees.

"Oh God, that's so gross! Get it off me! Get it off me!"

Called to action, Megan rushed over toward Robin squealing, flailing her arms.

Down on her knees, in a calm voice, Megan leaned toward the mess.

"I'll gladly help you with that," she said, stretching her tongue then rabidly licking off the sperm.

Curiously, after watching Megan, with one finger, Kelly reached down and scooped up her own sample.

"My God, that's delicious," she smiled at first taste, scooping up even more.

Head down, in front of me, staring at her lap, Mom sighed with clear disappointment.

"Great," she said. "All that and not a single drop on my legs."

Head spinning, sweaty and out of breath, I tried my best to explain.

"Sorry, Mom," I said, shaking my head. "I wasn't planning for that to happen. It's just been a while."

"I see," she said, turning back down. "But you're still hard," she frowned. "Are you sure there's not more in there?"

"Um, I don't know," I frowned back. "Guess there might be."

"Hmm," said Cynthia, moving behind me. "I thought this might happen," she added, doing something with her hands. "Lean over, sweetie," she said, with a slight push.

Leaning forward, head on Mom's shoulder, I reached down and touched her left thigh. With my hand settled on her silky black hose, behind me, a blinding pain made me clamp my fingers, squeezing Mom's leg, groaning extremely hard.

With Cynthia's finger shoved up my ass, a wave of semen rushed out like Niagara Falls, gushing so hard my knees buckled, sobbing out loud, with each spasm followed by the halting euphoric breaths of Mom gasping after every splash, fulfilling my incredible pantyhose dream by living out hers as well.

Finally, my eyes opened to a bowl of hot chowder spilled over black pantyhosed legs.

Seeing it too, Mia leaned down, head bent over Mom's thigh.

With only her mouth, she cleaned up the mess, head darting all around, eagerly vacuuming every last drop, slurping up soup, no spoon.

Turning down, Mom raised her brow then playfully asked, "None for me?"

Face red, clearly ashamed, Mia covered her mouth.

"Oh, Miss Shepherd, I'm so sorry. I should have offered to share."

"It's fine." Miss Shepherd smiled, waving it off. "Trust me. I know how good it is. But from now on, please call me Lauren...unless you're okay with Mom."

The End

Continued in Part 8: Christmas Wedding

Coming soon...

Copyright@2014