Tag Archives: Stockings

Dangers of the Catwalk

For the burlesque I went shopping for a 40s-style dress and ended up buying two. I have a weakness for pretty dresses, it seems.

So does Mister. In seeing me in them. Seeing me half out of them also.

As a girl is wont to do, I will try on my purchases when I arrive home. This results in parading of said purchases in front of Mister to see what he thinks (whilst also surreptitiously removing evidence of the price). With the dresses, I wanted to see which was the more suitable for the ‘Dress to Impress’ prerequisite on the flyer (or is it flier? hmm). I twirled for him. My moment of girliness. Showing off and prancing. I should have known I was asking for trouble. Perhaps the flash of my seams was what did it. Whatever it was, I had a Mister swiftly following me into the bedroom.

He came up behind me and ran his hands up my legs and under the hem of the dress. It left no question to what he was after. He was insistent. He was direct. He was determined even after my protests. I didn’t want to dirty my pretty new dress this soon. Unfortunately I didn’t have a say in this.

You’re being very mischievous, I told him. His hands crept up to cup my buttocks and the cleft inbetween.

I don’t know what you’re talking about, he said, pulling me backwards to be closer to his body. I could sense the smile in his voice as he spoke.

I think you know very well, Mister. When I call him that I have mischief in my mind also. He picked up on my tone.

The next thing I knew he had tugged down my hosiery and bent me forward. My hands went out instinctively to steady myself on the bed in front of me. I made some surprised noises of shock, excitement and indignance mixed all together. How dare he take me like this!? I thought to myself. Yet these were conflicted with my body’s complete submission and arousal. The very idea of being taken like this, by mild force half against my will made my core sizzle and my pussy come alive. This was getting me off greatly.

One hand was placed on my back, ensuring I didn’t struggle. His other had raised my dress over my ass. In that position, semi-undressed with my underwear around my knees, I had an overwhelming sense of vulnerability. I felt myself getting hotter. The fire was still in my eyes from the indignancy and as I looked back behind me to stare him in the face, he had the devil about him.

Hot, quick, undignified sex. Neither of us were fully naked. He had undone his trousers and had placed a condom on his cock in no time at all. He repositioned me facing forward. My head impusively was lowered, hands splayed out in front of me. I prostrated myself in front of him, but in reverse.

We enjoy our quickies. They are always delicious and have that dirty sense of lust being fulfilled in that short, immediate experience. His thrusts were hard, fast and meaningful. He knew what was playing in my head, this fantasy of mine.

He left me in a crumpled disarray, breathing heavily face down on the bed. It was heavenly. The smile on my face put paid to the worry I had about dirtying my new dress. I didn’t care any more.

If only the credit crunch allowed me to go shopping more often.

Wednesday’s Inner Minxyness

So, it’s all over.

Yippee!! Placement finished! Just two final days back up in college and then I shall have finished my Post-Graduate course! I shall be a Qualified Pandorah!

My last day was spent with lots of mushiness through cards, cake and flowers from an unexpected source.

But I have a feeling you are wanting to know about my other, more private celebrations – did I wear my stockings and suspenders? Well, short answer to that is: Yes, yes I did. I wore them with pride, excitement and energy. I know I would stumble about in the morning so pre-prepared the hooks from the garter belt to the top of the stockings last night before I went to bed – and that took me nearly ten whole minutes – goodness knows how late I would have been if I’d left it until the morning to affix said hooks.

Anyway. Off I trotted in my work heels and naughty hosiery and had such a smily, bittersweet day – an end to my time there, but looking forward to the future kinda thing.

I came home a little earlier and had a play with my camera. Hope you like.

Looking at my knees…

View from Behind - I had to arch a lot for this one - I hope you appreciate the effort I put into my blog!

Quite like this one. I might use one of these as my avatar – y’know, obligatory stocking avatar. Just for a little while perhaps.

Any who, enjoy! I shall be enjoying myself tonight in celebrations of the flesh and of the tapas. Mmm.

 

‘She that makes me sin awards me pain’, Part Three

~ Finally, the third and final part of my exploration into erotica. Refresh your memories with Part I and Part II. This is a little longer than the first two visits into fiction, but I hope you won’t tail off and your attention is retained! ~

 

‘I want to make you scream tonight, scream out like you never have before.’ She stood over him with the belt in her hand and slowly began to raise it above her head.

In an instant, he heard the leather sweep down and strike the outer part of his thigh. It made him wince, his legs drew up and his mouth opened in shock. It wasn’t all that stingy; she could have been meaner and really let loose, but the initial impact had had its effect. She could see the top of his forehead above the red silk scarf crinkle in a grimace she was sure was echoed in his covered eyes. Immediately she countered this welt with a soft kiss in the same spot. She wanted to show him she wasn’t completely twisted. And that she could be softened, if he gave her the right response.

‘Just the one to begin with, my love,’ she muffled into his skin as she soothed it with her soft lips. He wasn’t quite sure if she was referring to the strike or the kiss. One thing was certain, however, and that was the fact he did not know what to expect next. He felt his girl move away from his tensed body and heard a rustling from somewhere in the bedroom. He took this opportunity to test his blindfold. Shifting slightly in his seat to not attract her attention, he raised a corner of the scarf so one blue eye could slowly take in the view. Bent over the side table, his girl was peering into her bag. Her seamed stockings looks truly delicious when seen from behind, the lines leading up to her perfectly formed arse. It made his mouth water at the delights that lay between those legs, and, not to spoil her fun, replaced the blindfold for the time being. A metallic clink became audible, along with a ripple of material. 

Several questions were running through his head in the moment he heard the unmistakable sound of his lighter. ‘Candles. She’s lighting candles.’ The familiar petrol smell wafted to his nose momentarily, informing him she was close at hand at least.

‘Got you guessing, have I?’ She spoke in that low, almost growl-like voice of hers when she is in a mischievous mind. He was about to answer her when he felt a curious warming sensation at his elbow. Not enough to be uncomfortable at first, but it increased in temperature quickly. He gasped as he realised it was a candle flame. ‘What the…!’ was all he managed to get out before being met full on with a kiss. As quickly as the kiss was brought on, the heat dissipated and she chuckled lightly into his mouth.

Their mouths moved together slowly, deeply. The girl placed the candle she had been toying with on the side table as she moved her hands over his chest, up to his face, cradling his head, drawing him to her. Fingers entwined in his hair and she let escape a murmured moan. Almost with a sigh, he replied. She was straddling him now, her underwear the only barrier between the pair. His arms sprung into action as they swept up her back into her long dark hair. Knowing how this made her melt and not wanting to relinquish her hold over him just yet, she quickly moved them back down her body, to her breasts. No man in his right mind would want to argue with that choice. Without his sight, he felt his way softly around the outer-edges of her breasts, where they were ever-so slightly more sensitive, lightly brushing his fingertips over the warm skin. He reached in, under her bra to find her nipples nicely aroused. She saw his involuntary smile and knew his thoughts. Moving down his neck, her tongue traced a line from his jaw to his chest. A nail followed to make sure his senses weren’t softened. Only gently, though. A small reminder not to be lured into a false sense of security.

She reached over to the side table where she had lain out some of the contents of her bag. Not all of them would be used, but ‘Be Prepared’ she thought. Her hand darted over the items, fingers dancing past the handcuffs, the tassly whip. ‘Oh, the fun we’ll have later on!’ She spoke, half to herself. He heard the almost childlike glee in her tone. Was she going to use the whip, after all? Or just her nails? He was answered not with another stinging response, but a soft, glistening hand. A scent of Ylang Ylang passed up to his face and he inhaled the massage oil as it was applied to his skin.

He adored this oil. They both did. Not only was the scent divine, but it was the best in a line of massage oils they owned and had experimented with. A truly sensual aroma encircled the two of them now, each inhaling the intoxicating scent arousing the senses. She too was becoming giddy with the oil and lost in the action of massaging the skin on his torso. Almost hypnotically her arms were moving lower towards his hips, thighs and his beautifully lengthened shaft. Her concentration was being drawn away from his actions as she focused on her movements. She never noticed the blindfold being slipped from his eyes, still knotted.

He caught her unawares by jolting upright suddenly in the chair, bringing her face to face, eye to eye. The pair stared at each other. She in mock-shock at the escape. He with the defiant glare of an untethered hound. In one movement, he stood up and moved her roughly against the nearest wall. This was what she had been waiting for all along. How far would he submit before rebelling and breaking free? She smiled at him, one eyebrow raised in satisfaction. He held her hands together in one of his as he removed her blue bra, slipping the straps down her slender arms before sliding down to remove her French knickers. Kissing the still stockinged legs as he worked his way back up to her. He gently licked the inside of her thighs above the stockingtop seams, knowing it would make her shiver. Inches away from her waiting pussy, he resisted. For now.

As she hooked her left leg over his hip to ease their movement into one another she clawed his back, only lightly – the tingling sensation timed perfectly to the first inward thrust of his cock. They savoured the initial feeling as they always did every time they made love. The heel of her foot pressed in against his soft flesh, anchoring herself to him, pressing him deeper inside. He placed his head into her neck and nipped playfully as he began to move, each thrust pinning her to the wall, hair becoming dishevelled against it.

‘I’ll… make you a deal,’ he managed to say in between increasingly ragged breaths. ‘How about… I make you scream first,’ he continued, ‘Before we… worry about me?’

‘H..honey,’ she replied breathlessly, ‘That’s all I ever wanted… you only had to speak up for yourself.’

Their pace quickened, and his hand snaked down between them to her heated sex and began his favourite past-time – bringing his girl everything she wanted.

And more.

‘She that makes me sin awards me pain’, Part One

~ Well, well my dear cohorts, I thought it was time for me to enter the foray of fiction at last. This is part of a story I have been working on in my head for a while now. It’s based on a little fantasy of mine. I thought I better start with one of the tamer ones to begin with. I’m planning on stretching this out over a few posts. Let me know what you think, I’m all ears. Enjoy x ~                         

            

A car pulls up on the roadside, a little way from the house. The passenger door opens and a shadowy figure emerges, thanks the driver and walks silently, sleekly up the short drive.

She has arrived fifteen minutes earlier than planned. Purposefully. She knows that he will still be in the shower, and that she has about five minutes to prepare herself. Raising her slender hand, she opens the unlocked front door. No-one else is home and the area is rural enough to feel safe leaving doors unattended like this. Hearing the CD player on full-blast in the bathroom above, she smiles quietly to herself knowing that her lover is unaware of her presence. So with no need to creep around for fear of discovery, she climbs the stairs confident in her pace.

Her slender frame walks along the corridor to the bedroom. His room. Opening the door she inhales the unmistakable scent of man in his own, private environment. It is not unpleasant like that of hormonal teenagers. More musky, earthy and primal. She takes in a breath, becoming heady with its power. Once more she smiles to herself, thinking that her own unique aroma shall fill this space for the remainder of the night, intermingling with his, mirroring the entwining limbs that will occur in the near future.

She is brought back to herself as the music suddenly ceases making her realise she has only a few moments before her man enters his domain, to be confronted with his lady before him. She quickly places her bag of the night’s provisions in a place close at hand should she desire to delve into its contents of binding implements, handcuffs, massage oil and other kinky paraphernalia should she wish to use them depending on the behaviour of her subject. She has dressed specially for this occasion. Wearing her best black peep-toe heels, she had decided earlier in the evening to use this opportunity to show off her new seamed stockings, and boy did they look good with those lines leading up to her thighs and beyond. Ensuring that the lines were straight, she bunched up the coat around her to hide the fact that she was wearing very little indeed underneath.

Placing herself in the middle of the good-sized bedroom, she coyly moved a few strands of her hair over one side of her face, knowing this to be one of her partner’s sizzling points. She heard the bathroom door unlock at the furthest end of the corridor and her man’s footsteps bounding along the way towards her. She saw the handle turn as he came into the room. She saw him stop suddenly as he came to terms with the fact that she was here, waiting for him. She saw him open his mouth to say something, only to stifle it by raising her finger to her lips and move towards him and whisper, ‘Shhh,’ as she looked up from her dark, shadowy eyes at his awestruck face.

‘No need for words just yet, my love. Listen to what I say and don’t question me,’ she said melodiously but with a hint of danger in her voice.

He instantly closed his mouth and replaced his quizzical look with a wry smile and glint in his eyes. The thought of the booked table completely left his thoughts, his mind whizzing with the new possibilities the evening now held.

‘Now, move over to the chair, and sit with your hands behind your back,’ his girl now said to him. A definite switch from the syrupy tone previously to a more directorial one. One he knew from past experience not to dither with the instructions it held.

He walked and sat on the chair as told, eagerly awaiting her next move. 

~ Part Two & Part Three ~

Pandorah’s Checklist Revisited

Items ticked off checklist: Predictably, numbers 2, 3 and 4. Number 1 didn’t get much of a look in past the getting home bit.

Work done: None, zilch, nada.

Useless points: A gazillion (whoo).

At least some quality time was spent with family and Mister. Which in the grand scale of things *has* to be the more substantial point over the doing work bit. Isn’t it? Yes?

In fact some very good quality time was had with Mister. The Valentine’s event was all rather fluffy and sweet this year - we elected to stay in and cook a three course meal together and it was a yummy success! Mister did all the chopping and peeling and helped to construct the starter with me. Such diplomats we are. We even cooperated over the washing up.

Seriously, we work too well as a pairing sometimes. I mean, we’ve never had an argument (by that I mean a proper full blown angry one) in all our time as a couple. Touch wood. I guess we are of similar temperaments and don’t see the point of getting worked up enough to blow them out of proportion leading to eruptions.

We followed our dinner with some scrummy desert of our own making in his bedroom. Naturally. He had dressed up for me for the dinner by getting all smart and sexy in a shirt, which made me smile no end when I turned up at his after getting ready in my own smart-ish long asymmetrical skirt and heels. And stockings of course. It wouldn’t be Valentine’s without the stockings now, would it? Pretty ones with ribbons at the sides and all! (That look terribly gorgeous and hot after some rolling around and wandering hands treatment so the bows come undone of their own accord)

I tried something new as well - we made love* whilst I was wearing his shirt. Oh, that was strangely good. I love how his clothes hang on me: the sleeves dangling down so I have to bunch them around my elbows; being able to be so engulfed by a simple cotton shirt; at a convenient length so it covers all that requires it, but is still too short to be decent. Delectably arousing.

Now I am returned to the world of coursework and mental fatigue without the lovely Mister to tire me physically. I know I will have trouble sleeping tonight after having another warm body next to mine for the past week.

*As an aside: Why does the term ‘made love’ always seem not quite right? For some reason I go cold whenever I write it out or speak it when not in the heat of the moment. And even then it’s not always right. Mister gets away with saying it alright if we’re getting down to it, but I never feel comfortable with it. Now what does that say about me? Goodness knows.

Release of the Inner Minx

As it was Friday today I thought I’d treat myself to a bit of personal naughtiness.

I find there’s naught more sexy and ego-boosting than doing something that makes you feel that little bit of a minx in an everyday situation. So today as I was getting dressed at god-knows-what o’clock this morning I peeked into my underwear drawer for something a little more exotic than the usual black underwear I usually plump for. Not only did my pretty turquoise bra say to me ‘Please oh gorgeous one, wear me today’, but my suspender belt also was looking at me in a despondant light. Now I have somewhat neglected  my stockings and suspenders of late, and as it was Friday and a special occasion (last day spent at a particular point in my course) I got myself dressed in the full garb: stockings, suspenders, pretty bra and my skirt get up. Teehee!

It really puts a spring in your step if you go to work/evening out etc.. knowing you’re wearing something that’s considered very kinky and alluring these days. Add that to the fact it makes you feel oh-so feminine with a slight sense of empowerment in the knowledge that no-one else knows you’re wearing stockings and suspenders and you are really set up for the good few hours ahead of you.

So I was walking around during the day with the occasional smile emerging from my lips – people must have thought I’d finally cracked under the pressure – saying hello to everyone I passed on the stairs. A really lovely day was had today.

I believe my inner minx was quite sated by the time I got home. I do so love to get her going. Not many people get to see her. The privileged few I could probably count on one hand. And then, Mister has been the only one to see her in the full light of discovery. She’s a tricksy one, our inner minx. She loves to come out to play, and gets upset when she’s not taken out often enough – possibly why Tuesdays are hard! (see earlier post) I have come to the conclusion she must be released every 4-5 days or else things start to get a little…tense, shall we say?

Now. Inner minxes are not to be confused with sex-drive. Minxes in this sense refer to the mischievous sides to our sexuality. I do wonder what the male equivalent would be called…answers on a postcard please!

Well…anyway. Day spent in stockings would have been absolutely perfect, except for getting a bloody hole/small ladder in them at about 10.30am. Bugger. Ah well…who cares…the slightly dishevelled look never hurt anyone. And it was a quite sweet/sexy little ladder too! Maybe I should rip my stockings more often…I did have a pair of fish-nets that turned into something that would have let a whale through in the end…but even they had their uses.

So, gentlemen. Take heed whenever you see a lady with a smile to herself – especially if she appears to be in tights. Maybe, just maybe she’s in something a little more exotic and your complimentary salute will mean the world to her inner minx.