Fetish - lingerie, pantyhose, stockings

Em answered the ad in the paper on Saturday. Money had been short recently; her landlord had been around twice, left notes under her door about last month’s rent. The job sounded perfect. The ad read:

quick easy money – $500 for 4 hours
female subjects aged 20-40 desired for study in new technological field
no experience necessary

The man on the phone seemed rude, but the money was good and the commitment was even better. She asked him what was required for the study and he replied that he only recruits people – she would find out when she got to her interview. She set up an interview for the very next week and hung up the phone with a smile on her face.
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I’ve always had a secret fascination with barber shops. I guess it’s because that’s where men are most themselves. When I was in high school, my dad would take me and my brothers along when he got his hair cut. Like clockwork, he would go to this seedy shop in Little Italy and get a trim and a shave from the owner, Tony.

My brothers and I would read the newspapers and magazines while the barbers and patrons snipped, gossiped, smoked cigars and talked to their bookies. Sometimes my older brother would sneak a Playboy from the pile and drool over the centerfold while I stole shy glances at the naked girls on the cover.
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It was a bitterly cold night, the kind of night where a freezing fog settles low beneath the hazy street lights and casts a grey-orange shadow over everything. The tops of hedges, the grass, the pavements were all coated in a thick white frost that sparkled harshly like broken glass whenever a car’s headlights passed over it.

She was glad to be in her own warm living room. A fire burned in the hearth - its flickering glow both heating and lighting the room - and the thick, heavy curtains at her window blocked out the cold darkness. She was curled up before the fire on her dark red couch with a thick cream blanket pulled tightly around her.
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He gets home to find his wife all bathed, shaved & smelling fresh and clean, she tells him to jump in the hot bath. As he lies there soaking, in the water, she brings a flute of champagne and hands it to him with a kiss!

As she sits down, her robe falls open and he can see how neat and tidy she is waxed. She sees him looking at her and slowly starts to stroke herself, beginning at her breasts moving down towards her groin. She dips a finger in her champagne and teases one of her nipples with her wet finger, making it so hard it points out as far as it can!
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For any woman who has not discovered the joy and pleasure of masturbating, please realize it is natural, it is enjoyable; you were made to enjoy your body and it is well past time to begin… and many men are very turned on by knowing about it, hearing about it and even watching, especially if they know that you are fantasizing about them.

A cold, chilling wind blows outside… icicles dangle precariously from windowsills and porch railings… fresh, white, untouched snowdrifts cover the ground… warming rays of bright sunshine make trees and surfaces glisten… schools closed… another winter day. I’m unable to get out of the house because power lines are down across the road, denying any access to the outside world. With mundane chores completed and lunch behind us, I settle into my cozy bed, alone as usual under a thick, soft, worn quilt with a cup of my favorite cinnamon spice hot herbal tea and a historical romance novel to devour for the afternoon. Reclining back into a pile of soft pillows, I close my eyes, my mind briefly wandering back to memories of the previous night’s passion – thanks to a very special and exciting new friend.
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We had been in touch now for what seemed like months, exchanging emails and an occasional phone call. Sharing our deepest fantasies. We shared detailed descriptions of our extreme indulgence and servitude to our sexy 120s. I was confident that tonight would be the beginning of a relationship I had been seeking for a long time. I had found someone who loved all the same things that I did. She admitted that she wasn’t as experienced as I am in the pleasurable torture that we both craved. I was ready to draw her into my world. And she was ready to join me there. Strangely enough, we frequented the same corner pub, a friendly place where many t-girls had found fulfillment of their own fantasies. She would be arriving around 9:30. I planned on being there at 9.
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I listen for the familiar click, cluck, of the door, then the steps on the gravel. The car alarm blips and then the soft thud as the car door closes. The engine starts and I hear my husband’s car back off the driveway. I watch his car move out of view from behind the blinds and carry on watching for a second or two to make sure he doesn’t come back for something. Once satisfied that he has gone I climb the stairs and quietly open the door to my room, sitting on the edge of my bed I slowly start to undress.
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The following story is dedicated to Lisa, who encouraged me to submit this story for you to read.

*****

I had always considered myself a rather macho type man. I’m 45 years old, weigh 225 pounds. I’m 6′ tall, and in good shape, not overly muscular, but well toned. My profession requires that I maintain myself in good physical shape. I’ve got naturally curly brown hair, and a very hairy chest and stomach. I’ve been in law enforcement for twenty-two years, not as a police officer, but within the jail setting. We are trained to rely more on our physical abilities, than our patrol counterparts since we carry no weapons on our persons while on duty.
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This was a story my wife sent to me whilst I was away over an extended period of time. This was her first ’story’ which although still a fantasy , is one we might take further one day soon!! The story is ‘as written’ to me when I was far far away!

Having been away on a trip and not being expected back, you return to find the house in complete darkness apart from the bedroom light. Trying to catch me out and surprise me, you creep in the front door and quietly climb the stairs. You hear voices coming from our room and stop to listen in the darkness of the landing.
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CHAPTER 1

Let me say at the very beginning that Lora was not a beautiful woman. Only when the light and the expression on her face were just right could she appear rather attractive. But then, on second glance a moment later, she would be the plainest looking of females. I did not find her at all sexually appealing right up until the moment it happened.

The year was 1963. My college roommate Ronny had invited me to pass the spring break with him and his family in Houston, less than two hours drive from school. Since my own parents lived halfway across the continent, and were spiraling down toward a messy divorce, I gladly accepted his invitation.
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