Anklet

Although there is significant disagreement about whether or not a woman wearing ankle jewelry is sending out messages of sexual availability, it is common knowledge that some women do wear them for that purpose. Besides, it looks so sexy and draws attention to the legs of any woman confident enough to wear one.

My wife Ginny is such a woman. A distance runner since junior high school, she has those beautifully muscled runner's legs. Although she is only 5'4", her long legs give the appearance of being taller. Her breasts are a medium "C" and can be either wrapped tightly for road running or enhanced with the right bra to display a "D" cleavage.

At forty, for reasons beyond the scope of this story, Ginny began seeing much younger men. I suggested she get an ankle bracelet to wear on her dates. When we went shopping, we deliberately looked for jewelry stores where young male sales staff might be persuaded to help her try on different styles of chains. Dressed stylishly yet provocatively, Ginny would place her stocking clad foot in stiletto heeled shoes on a chair seat or other elevated surface where the young stud could attach the jewelry to her ankle.

I usually pretended to look at other selections while the guy had access to my wife's leg. It was incredible how erotic these shopping expeditions proved to be. Ginny is a great cock tease and she played her part uncommonly well, moving her leg to different positions, hiking an already too short skirt even higher, often exposing her stocking tops.

She'd ask my opinion and also the salesman's. She'd deliberately dismiss my evaluations while gushing at the younger man's. Her objective was to give the guy an erection and she almost always succeeded. Our expeditions proved very arousing. We realized we were engaged in an activity to assist my wife in attracting young strangers. The hot sex we had after we got home was always incredible.

One time she performed what we've come to think of as her ultimate tease. We had thought about and discussed it for a while. What we needed was a deserted jewelry store, preferably near closing time when other customers were unlikely to disturb things with a good-looking, eager, young stud attending the store by himself. That proved difficult to achieve, as young guys were not often permitted to close up jewelry stores.

However, late one cold, rainy, winter's evening we found our store and our guy in a nearly deserted strip mall. Ginny nearly chickened out when we saw the kid was still in high school - he was studying for his SATs when we entered.

"Still in high school, huh?" Ginny asked.

"Yeah," the kid sighed before adding more brightly, "Graduating in a couple of months though."

"Here by yourself?" my wife asked, wanting to make sure nobody was about to stumble out from the back.

"Tonight I am."

"Are you even old enough to do that?"

"It's not like I'm selling liquor or anything. According to the state I'm an adult so I suppose that's old enough."

After getting over her initial hesitation, Ginny had the boy show her the different kinds of anklets the store carried. She lifted her leg onto a low stool and asked the young salesman if he would hook the clasp around her ankle. She could see she was giving the kid a boner as he helped her on with several selections.

While they were examining how one anklet looked, I casually remarked, "You know, you're supposed to wear that under your stocking, not over it." That was her signal.

"Could you take it off?" she asked the kid in her sweetest little girl voice.

I went back to my faux examinations of the other chains while the kid removed the anklet.

"My shoe too," she said smiling sweetly.

With the kid watching intently and her foot still on the shop stool, Ginny slid her skirt above her stocking tops and unfastened the stocking from the garter. Neither too slowly nor too hastily, she rolled her stocking sexily down her silky smooth leg and off her foot.

"OK, let's try it again."

Now the kid was fastening the chain against her bare skin. When he was finished, Ginny slid the stocking up her leg and re-fastened it to her garter belt.

Standing up on the stool, she called me over, unnecessarily hiking up a skirt that was already as far from her ankle as even immodest decorum permitted, and asked me what I thought. Not satisfied with my evaluation, she asked the young man.

"What do you think, sweetie?" she asked him as I wandered a few feet away.

The boy was trying desperately, but unsuccessfully to conceal a hard on so painful he couldn't speak. Holding out her hand, she waited for him to help her down.

With her anklet-clad foot back on the stool seat, Ginny leaned over and said, "Don't be embarrassed, gorgeous, everybody knows it's got a mind of its own at your age."

With that she glanced down at his crotch so he would make no mistake about that to which she referred. When she looked into his eyes again, she gave him a deliberate wink.

Then, she proceeded to do it all in reverse as she hiked up her skirt, took off her stocking so he could get the anklet off, and back on with the stocking. When she slid her stocking on for the last time she pulled her skirt up almost showing her panties.

"Would you be a dear?" she asked him. "I really can't see what I'm doing that well. Do you know how to attach the stocking?"

The kid gulped. "I guess so," was all he could muster.

Reaching out, he grasped the top of her stocking and the garter strap. His hands shook as they brushed against her bare, warm, upper thigh – maybe even the panty itself. His struggles caused excessive skin-to-skin contact, enflaming my wife but eventually he accomplished his erotic task. When he finished, Ginny kissed his cheek.

"Thank you so much, you're such a sweetie," she gushed at the boner bound boy.

Once outside, we practically raced to the car. Ginny slid her hand into my lap and squeezed the hard on lurking there.

"Did you enjoy seeing a teenager touching you wife?" she asked rhetorically, pinching my phallus again. "Want to know what he felt?"

Ginny spread her legs and pulled the back of my hand against the soaking gusset of her panties.

"Do you think he could feel how wet I was?"

I made a noncommital grunt. Like the kid studying for his college entrance test, I was having trouble speaking. Ginny lifted her hips off the seat and slid her panties off.

"Maybe you can feel now," she said, rubbing the panties, warm pussy juices side out, against my cheek, under my nose, and across my lips.

I moaned, letting my tongue loll out so she could brush her juicy panties along it. As I drove away, she rested her back against the passenger side door and put her left foot on the seat. I could see her naked pussy as she stroked herself and told me of the excitement she felt over what she'd done.

Ginny fingered herself to orgasm while telling me how many times she flashed him her panties and how his soft hands drove her crazy as he attached her stocking top to the garter.

Ginny owns an anklet now, but we still go shopping sometimes. Unfortunately, we've never managed to repeat our performance with the high school kid, but the memory is still strong and she strings her fantasies over it like lights on a Christmas tree. In some she isn't wearing panties at all, but the best are those where she slips to her knees and sucks his climax from him.