Fetish - lingerie, pantyhose, stockings

I took a slow drive on A1A Oceanside, early one morning in August Nineteen Eighty Three, the dark morning streets yawned at the dim light over the ocean. Streetlights flickered out and neon signs faded as the first hints of morning smiled on the water. The midnight blue waters sparkled as pastels kissed the sky with sunrise.

Traffic lights snarled: go, slow, stop, go ignoring the splendor, as I slowly drove on, glancing across the water. Then suddenly time became an illusion, motion ceased and I saw her in the coral pink water framed in aquamarine. First, all I saw a silhouette tasting a lavender sky, then she moved and I saw more. Waves licked her denim cutoffs and the white top glowed on freckled skin. Sunlight whispered around her auburn hair as it flowed over her shoulders. Then her body strangely became the surf and as I watched, her hands ran through her hair and then descended to her breasts.
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Funny how it seems we all (or, women at least) want to look different to the way we do. We get an idea about what the perfect body type is, and invariably it’s something that we think we’re not. I mean, I used to really worry about it myself. I’m a medium height, browned-eyed brunette, with straight, shoulder length hair, and what I guess you might call an ‘athletic’ physique – which is to say I’m slender with very small breasts. I’m 29 now, and still the same 32A that I was as a teenager. These days I’m totally comfortable with myself exactly the way I am. But while I’ve always thought I had a pretty face, I did used to worry about being so flat-chested. It wasn’t just whether men would find me attractive (actually I’d also begun to notice an early tendency within myself to worry about whether certain women might find me attractive too!), but like so many teenagers I’d got this anxiety that breast size was directly proportional to one’s chances for success and happiness. I’ve come to realize that it actually doesn’t matter at all. Experience has shown me that there are a lot of men (and women too, as it turns out) who are very attracted to my body type and wouldn’t want it to be any other way. In fact, I’m convinced that whatever type of body you have there will always be plenty of people who are attracted to it – it seems to me that nature has a way of balancing these things out.
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Once again, the following morning I felt a little ashamed of myself, especially when I saw the underwear lying balled up beside the bed. Even so, there was still a sense of discovery. I felt that a door had been opened to a whole new world and it was, if nothing else, exciting.

I fought any temptation to repeat that experience for three days. By mid-week however, I found myself daydreaming in class, wondering what it would be like to have a boy touching me. I had no one particular in mind; in fact he was faceless but tall and strong. It must have been obvious that I was distracted. I was usually the perfect student and several teachers and some of my friends asked if I was OK.
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One night I was chatting with my Mother. She had recently asked me about Greg my best friend at that time as well. “Does Greg still like you?” She asked one night. No I answered why? “Well I know he likes to spend the night and all… and I realize you two aren’t …active that way any more, but I woke up Saturday evening and he was in the bathroom. I waited out side for awhile and he wasn’t coming out. I walked up to the door to see if he was Ok. Just before I knocked I heard him moaning lightly and I knew he was masturbating. So I quietly tiptoed back to the kitchen to wait. It still seemed like awhile so I figured I would just try to sleep.
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As I sped my car through the night, I was tingling with sexual excitement, power. My pussy throbbed from the thorough fucking I’d just received, and I something told me Black would be more then a little intimidated that I’d found a rod so close to his own. He had to know I was going to win this eventually, especially after turning me into such a persistent little cock-hound.

This is proof that Aaron Black’s Cock had rendered me as stupid as well as horny.

God, the cock. My mouth watered at the thought; my dick-sucking lips pursed with anticipation, wanting only to feel that freakishly thick meat stretching them out.
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Pat had recently become a widow and was a still a very young looking fifty year-old woman. Lonny’ s illness had lingered on for two years and her physical needs had not been met. She put her needs aside as she lovingly cared for her dying husband.

It was now six months since the funeral and she was ready to get on with her life. Her girls had both moved on to start their careers and Pat still had her career as an lab technician with a local ceramics company.

She had walked her basset hound earlier so they could both get a little exercise. After getting a shower, she settled down in front of the fireplace in her bathrobe with her latest romance novel and a glass of sherry.
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Emma woke from a beautiful dream about peeing in a swimming pool with a bunch of her friends. They had all been nude, sat side by side with their wide naked bum cheeks resting on the cold slabs that formed the flooring around the pool’s edge. There were five of them in total. Emma’s was at the far right with her best friend Lindsey to her immediate left. Taller than Emma, the twenty-one year old had long straight strands of midnight black hair which down to her bare shoulders. Her breasts were smaller than the full roundness of Emma’s boobs, but were beautifully proportioned to the girl’s slim and seductive figure. Between Lindsey’s legs and from the base of her black haired pubic triangle had been squirting a long golden stream of twisting piss, spraying over the pool’s edge and splattering down into the water below. From Emma’s own semi-shaved pussy triangle was shooting a similar stream of hot pee; squirting from her lower lips as she relived herself into the swimming pool water.
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Comments? Let me know please. No unauthorized use. Romantic-Erotica

One hand delicately turns the knob, the spray of hot water falling from the spout above her small frame suddenly stops. She reaches up that same hand and slowly brushes water droplets from her eyes, dark lashes lifting and fluttering in gentle kisses upon her silken cheeks as she blinks out the left over water enough to turn without stumbling from the shower. Stepping easily, dainty feet silently lift and drop onto the terry towel resting at the base of the shower door. Scuffing her feet lightly she reaches for her light shaded lilac robe and pulls it carefully upon her slim frame. Tying it loosely she leans over the sink and peers at herself in the steamed mirror for a moment before wiping a section clean. Blinking she sighs a little and turns from the bathroom, towel drying her thick brown hair as she walks out into her living room. Steadying herself for another lonely night.
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Intro: