Jerry Likes Legs a Lot

Finally, he closed his eyes, tilted his head back, and took a long, deep breath. He licked his lips. And thought of legs...

Those sweet, sweet coffee-cream legs. How they looked. How they felt. How they moved. The calves. The toes. The heels. The ankles. The nylon. The flesh.

He wanted more.

***

Jerry stared transfixed as Mrs. Mason entered her office and sat down at her desk. She was wearing sheer black pantyhose and black heels. Her legs shimmered. Her shoes glistened. She slid forward under the desk.

Jerry, once more stuffed down in front of her desk, looked at his crotch as his clammy cock unballed itself in his jeans. His heart was hammering, and he knew it was pounding that hot red blood right into his dick.

Jerry laid his trembling hand on the side of Mrs. Mason's over-crossed leg. He slipped off her shoe and caressed her toes, giving each one a special moment all to itself. He trailed the backs of his fingers up her calf, letting the nails drag. Letting the moment last.

Mrs. Mason pushed back in her chair and turned sideways, uncrossing her legs. She hiked up her skirt. She slid her legs back under the desk. They were not crossed. They were spread wide.

Mrs. Mason's cock was bulging out over the top of the pantyhose waistband, cinched right up tight against her abdomen. The head was a shockingly rich purple set against the black of the hose and her pasty, pouchy skin. Her testicles were squished flat, and the whole ensemble was entirely hairless.

Jerry held his breath and reached for his fly. Slowly, he pulled the zipper down. He wanted Mrs. Mason to hear every tick. Tick. Tick. Tick, tickticktickticktickttttttt.

He pulled himself free. His dick was sweaty. It would not be pleasant without lubrication, but he needed to beat it, and he needed to beat it now.

Mrs. Mason was fingering her cock under the table. She was running just two of her grubby, oil-stained fingers - chapped and bitten from all those years on the knitting machines - up and down the underside of her shaft as it pulsed within its nylon binding.

She was moving slowly at first, up and down, her cock pinned to her belly at a 45-degree angle. Jerry synchronized his own fapping, and in a few moments, they were sharing a rhythm. But while Jerry wrung his member for all it was worth, Mrs. Mason's touch was gentle and deft. She was barely touching it at all.

They moved faster and faster and Jerry could hear Mrs. Mason's breath becoming a grunt. Jerry's jaw slackened and his eyelids drooped and his toes curled down into his boots.

They came together.

Jerry squeezed and yanked and gripped and then by sheer force of will, he coaxed his first three shots to within half an inch of the underside of the desk, before gravity overtook them.

"Guuuunnnnhhhhhhh... uunnnhhh... yeeeeaaaahhhhh..." The rest of his jizz slathered down over his quivering fingers.

Mrs. Mason's eye-popping early blasts shot up her abdomen and out of Jerry's sight, over the arm of the chair and into... outer space? Heaven?

As the last few gobs gooped down onto her pantyhose, Jerry noticed her spunk was much yellower than his own, indicating a multi-day store finally seeing the sweet release it had bloody well earned.

Not once had Mrs. Mason actually grabbed her cock. She'd simply pressed her two fingers tight to the shaft, just below the glans, and let her pressurized balls - held fast in that nylon vice - do what they were made to do.

"Ffffuuuuuuunnnnhhhhh..." was all she said.

Jerry slumped sideways and watched as Mrs. Mason pushed back from the desk and stood, tugging her skirt down over her thighs. There was splooge on her shoe, which she either didn't notice or didn't care about. She turned and walked out of the room.

After a few minutes convalescing, dreaming, half keeled over toward the recycling bin as if drunk, Jerry got to his feet and tucked his shrivelled dick back where it came from. He wiped his fingers on some notepaper and stuffed the soiled evidence into the bin.

As he crossed the parking lot to his car, Jerry wondered which pantyhose and heels ensemble Mrs. Mason would be showing off next week. He made a mental note to wear looser pants for easier access and to bring his pocket-sized Neutrogena hand lotion - the one he sometimes carried, for just such occasions.

He couldn't wait to tell Cam.