There was a woman named Alison, who was a TV producer. I was assisting her in some research for a program she was producing, and she had come by my office several times, for some useful discussions. She was friendly and charming, but always stopped short of being flirtatious. She may have seen my wedding ring, which was hard to miss. But none the less, I did indulge in a little private speculation about her. She seemed like she could be hot in a librarian-sexy sort of way -- tightly laced, repressed sexuality that might suddenly boil over without warning.
That evening she showed up unannounced, just around the time everyone else was leaving. I showed her to the conference room, and we began to discuss the project.
She was wearing fishnet stockings. They seemed very out of place; she cultivated sort of a scruffy liberal image, studious looking, short hair that was a bit messy. But she was wearing fishnet stockings tonight. I put it out of my mind, and engaged her in a serious intellectual discussion.
But the thought came back -- why the stockings? Was she trying to get me interested? She knew I was married, and I knew that she was engaged. We kept talking.
Her skirt was too short. She kept adjusting her legs, moving them around. I was determined to keep focussed, because she was asking intelligent, important questions. Her legs were moving. Her outfit was so plain; the stockings seemed out of place. We kept talking, until at a certain point she just stopped, and stared at me with a slightly goofy smile on her face.
"You know," she said, "I have a confession to make." I looked at her expectantly, and she blushed. But then she bravely soldiered on. "I don't know what it is about you, but you make me feel very naughty."
"I do?" I replied. I was genuinely surprised, because I had been a perfect gentleman. "What did I do?"
"Oh, you didn't do anything," she said with a reassuring smile. "But for some reason, I'm doing things."
"Well, could you give me an example?"
"OK." She blushed deep scarlet now, but seemed determined to proceed. "After the first time I came here to meet with you, every time I've come back, I haven't worn any panties." She paused, and looked contrite for a moment. "I don't normally do that sort of thing."
She studied my face, gauging my response. I didn't know what to say, but I was suddenly aware of something. I could smell her arousal. It was strong and sweet, and it robbed me of my self-control. I was as hard as a rock.
Alison was talking again. "It was exciting to go without panties, but no one knew but me. I figured I probably shouldn't say anything to you, because we're both involved with other people. But tonight I had the urge to wear these stockings. And for some reason, now I'm telling you these things." She paused. "I hope you're not offended."
"No, I'm not offended," I admitted.
"You don't mind me talking about it?" she asked hopefully.
"No, go ahead," I said, and pulled my chair closer to hers as a gesture of encouragement.
She smiled. "Do you like the stockings?" she asked.
I was trying to concentrate on our conversation, but I found the aroma of her excitement to be intoxicating. The air seemed thick with it. I dropped to my knees and took her right foot in my hands, and began to unfasten the strap of her shoe. As I did so, I kept my gaze fixed upward on her face, because I knew that if I looked straight ahead at eye level I would probably be looking at something that I didn't feel quite ready to see. "Yes, the stockings are gorgeous," I said. I sat back up, still holding her foot, and began to massage it through her stocking.
She said nothing, but I could hear her breathing. After a minute she said, "I just melt when you do that."
It was exciting to feel her fishnet-covered foot in my hands. I was past the point of being in control of myself. "Really?" I said. "Which part of you is melting?"
Once again she blushed scarlet, but her expression was increasingly one of wanton abandon. "Should I show you?" she asked.
"Would you like to?" I replied.
She swallowed. "Yes, I would." She moved her hips forward; her skirt rode up, exposing the tops of her stockings, rolled up around her upper thighs. I heard her breathing. Then she slowly and deliberately seized the hem of her skirt and pulled it up around her waist.
Her abundant, fine-textured pubic hair was soggy and matted. She must have been very wet for a while. Her pussy lips were puffy and rose-colored, and significantly parted. I fell to my knees before her once again to have a closer look.
I began to gently kiss her thighs, just above the stockings. I was dizzy from the smell of her arousal. I heard her breathing, more loudly and sharply.
Her hips moved again. I kept kissing her thighs, and I felt her hands in my hair, pulling me closer. I resisted the pressure, rubbing my cheeks against the smooth skin of her thighs.
She pulled harder. My face was an inch from her pussy. She smelled so good. I ran my tongue around the very outside of her pussy lips, and then I dipped it between them, just slightly. She tasted like paradise. She pulled harder; I resisted. I gently sucked one of her pussy lips into my mouth.
Then she pulled harder, and I plunged my face into her cunt, revelling in it. I dipped my tongue in deep, and slowly dragged it up across her clit. "Yes, that's it," she said. "That's what I wanted. I wanted it so bad." I did it again. She groaned. "Do you like the way my cunt tastes?" she asked. I didn't answer; I just opened my mouth as wide as I could and sucked her vulva, while swirling my tongue all around it.
Then she stood up. Our eyes did not meet. She took off her skirt, and walked about the room, naked from her waist to the tops of her fishnet stockings. She let me see her fingers playing slowly up and down her pussy lips, and occasionally venturing between them. She turned away, and then showed me more. She was teasing me. I stayed where I was, kneeling in the middle of the floor. Finally she stopped in front of me, with her pussy only a foot or so from my face, and slowly inserted two fingers, bringing them slowly back out to smear pussy juice around her clit.
I seized her other hand with mine and laid down on my back, and she took the hint. She slowly straddled my face. She rubbed the stockings against me, and then planted her pussy full upon my mouth. She began to cry out in rhythm with the probing and licking of my tongue, and then suddenly she was cumming. She came continuously and copiously for several minutes. Then she stopped, and I heard only her ragged breathing.
Suddenly she got up on her knees and turned around, and began feverishly unfastening my belt buckle. I raised my ass to make it easier. Then, hastily and awkwardly, she managed to pull my pants down to my knees. She moaned at the sight of my erect cock, and then she took took it full into her mouth, swallowing it to the hilt. The sensation was thrilling. Within a minute she had me to the brink of cumming, but I stopped her. "Wait a minute," I said. I sat up and removed my shirt and pants. Then I took hold of her sweater and said, "I want to see what you look like without this."
Alison lifted her arms over her head and allowed me to take off her sweater. Then I helped her to her feet and contemplated her brassiere. It was lacy and scarlet and very attractive. I looked up into her eyes. She smiled, and I stepped forward to kiss her. As our tongues lazily entwined, I could feel the hardness of her nipples against my chest, with only a thin layer of satin between. I kissed her more aggressively as my hands moved to her back, to unclasp the bra. Then I stepped back to slowly remove it. Surprisingly, she blushed again as her breasts came into view. They were small but nice, and the nipples were taut and looking like they ached to be sucked. I stooped to take one, and then the other into my mouth.
Finally I heard her say, breathlessly, "May I keep the stockings on?" "Of course," I replied. She stepped toward me to kiss me again, and brought one leg around mine, letting her stockinged leg rest behind my calf. I seized her ass, lifting her upwards, and she wrapped her other leg around my other leg, while her hands guided my cock to the entrance of her pussy. There was some initial resistance; she writhed impatiently until my cock slid all the way in, deep inside her. She groaned with pleasure, and began to kiss me more lasciviously, opening her mouth wide. Her fishnet-clad legs were locked around mine, and I began to move her ass up and down, feeling her cunt contract deliciously around my cock.
Alison tried to pick up the pace, but I wouldn't let her; I moved her slowly up and down my shaft, feeling her clit rub against me. She giggled deep in her throat, and kissed me some more, sucking my tongue. "I can taste my pussy on your mouth," she said, and began waggling her ass from side to side as we moved together. It felt so hot that I couldn't help moving a little faster. "Oh god," she whispered in my ear, "I love your cock."
At this point, it was impossible to stay slow. We began to accellerate, and each time her pussy descended on my cock, it seem to send me deeper inside her. She arched her back, offering her breasts to my mouth. I sucked hard on one nipple after the other as she thrust her pussy to meet my cock. "I want you to cum," she said through clenched teeth. "I'm going to cum... I'm going to cum..." And at that point I could no longer restrain myself, and I began to spurt copiously into her wonderful cunt. She began to wail, and I could feel her pussy spasm.
When our orgasm subsided, we continued to stand there for a few minutes. Every now and then I could feel her pussy give my cock a little involuntary squeeze. Finally she whispered in my ear, "I'm going to wear these stockings to our next appointment."