So Exciting

So exciting. He found it so exciting when a woman just didn't care. She didn't care who saw up her skirt, she didn't care who rubbed past her, erection brushing across her thighs or bum. She didn't even care if someone rested a hand on her knee and gently stroked her nylon-clad leg.

Of course, she would give them the look, a mixture of resignation, disgust and boredom and she might even throw them an insult but she wouldn't stop them looking and fondling - and wouldn't even push their hand away.

She knew it excited him to watch guys ogle her and even fondle her and she played her part to perfection. Dishing food onto plates while a friend groped her large, soft breasts as he pushed his bulge against her squidgy bum. Gazing out of the crowded tube window as another passenger slowly eased her skirt up so he could squeeze her ample pantied bottom. Even reading a book on a park bench while some dirty old man ran his hands under the hem of her skirt and squeezed her stocking tops and traced a finger along the soft, white flesh of her inner thigh, even letting his finger trace her pussy lips through her panties.

When they got home, she would always take off her outer clothes and stand there in her bra, high heels, stockings and suspenders and ask him how he could possibly find it exciting to watch her being fondled and groped. As she walked around the room, he would gently stroke his erection and she would look at him with disdain.

When they visited her elderly uncle in the home, she would lean over to kiss him, her large breasts almost spilling out of her low-cut top. Some of the guys on the opposite side of the room would be blatantly playing with themselves under a blanket as they watched the back of her skirt ride up to reveal her plump stockinged thighs and her buttocks filling the satin panties she always wore. They continued to play with themselves under the blankets as she hugged and kissed each one of them before we left.

The only time he saw her smiling - even laughing - was when she sat at the back seat of the bus with all those students, taking her time moving along the seat to the free space, her short skirt barely covering her backside and exciting those young lads no end. There was no room for him as well so he had to stand, craning his neck to see what was going on. He knew she liked to sit with her legs crossed and it seemed the boys liked that too. They were all reaching across to her and although he only saw the odd hand brush against her straining breasts it certainly looked like there was a lot more going on out of sight. He thought he heard her tell them that she almost always wore stockings and suspenders and only wore sheer tights when she wanted to wear a skirt so short that it left her tights-covered bum cheeks exposed as she walked down the street.

One lad said he had never felt stockings and she invited him to feel hers, which resulted in a clamour as three or four pairs of hands roamed her nylon-clad legs and satin panties as she just lay back in the seat and smiled, with a far-away look in her eyes. They all kissed her goodbye before they got off, their hands now openly roaming her large breasts and backside and even groping her stocking tops as she stood to let one of them pass.

Later, as they walked home, she muttered that she probably shouldn't have done so but she had invited a few of them around on the weekend and she thought she might have given them the impression that she would model both stockings and tights outfits for them, so they could see the difference.

At home later, she was leaning forward as she was telling him that she didn't feel like sex and she hoped he didn't mind. He could see that one nipple was above the top of her bra, no doubt pulled up in the bus incident. Her hands rested on his thighs and her fingers slowly inched towards the bulge in his pants.

Her fingertips slowly stroked the material as she whispered in his ear "It is so good of you to allow me my fun. You know I won't let them fuck me so it doesn't hurt anyone if they just look, does it? And I don't mean to let them touch me but sometimes it just seems to happen. You don't mind, do you?"

And as he felt the familiar wetness in his trousers, caused as much by her words as her delicate fingers, he hated himself for telling her it was fine, he didn't mind at all.