Sperm Bank Artists

"Signed, sealed, enslaved and delivered," I thought as I closed the lid of the box and stepped out of the door heading for my bicycle.

In the matron's clinic, Fabiana and Olivia were chewing the cud.

"Are you listening to me babes," Fabiana was addressing her colleague who was looking through the surgery window towards the bike shed. Olivia was watching Mark who was paying more than passing attention to the pantyhose hanging there.

"Take a look at him," said Olivia and was joined by Fabiana peering on tiptoe from behind her shoulder at Mark who had now taken a miniature camera from his rucksack and was snatching a couple of exposures of the hose hanging there.

"What on earth is he up to?" Fabiana asked Olivia.

"I think he likes our bits and bobs," replied Olivia. "In fact, I happen to know he likes to wank himself off whilst wearing his roomie's knickers," she added.

"A panty boy you mean?" Fabiana enquired with a smirk.

"Panty boy, pantyhose freak, sock sniffer, you name it, he's in my mate Cath's laundry every day, can't help himself," Olivia told her pal.

"What are you like?" said Olivia when she turned to her friend.

Fabiana had her hand down the front of her cream coloured pantyhose and was fiddling with her neatly trimmed minge dressed in a pair of delicate, pink, floral lace, nylon bikini panties.

"I'm frikkin' sodden," said Fabiana as she extracted her wet fingers and extended them towards Olivia's nose.

"What are you like?" Olivia repeated.

"Go on, you know you want to," insisted Fabiana.

Olivia merely shook her head.

That evening back at the flat I received an email from Angelina which simply stated: Great to have you on-board Mark, see you Monday the twelfth of October.

"Rain, rain, go away come again another day," said Fabiana.

She had been busy for some days thinking about how to welcome Mark in her own inimitable intimate manner. She had sorted through her feminine froth, carefully considering which of her intimate smalls would render him most tongue-tied and hopeless and helpless. Finally, she had assembled some thirty or so items, socks, panties, pantyhose, stockings, a suspender belt and a naughty floral nylon body suit. Having rinsed them in the machine in the laundry room she collected them in a laundry basket and then headed for the shortcut to the bicycle shelter through the matron's clinic. She knocked on the door and having received no response she discovered that the door was locked. The curtains had been drawn across the windows.

She proceeded to her own quarters and found her way outside via that route from the playground towards the bicycle shed. Fabiana arranged her lingerie on the line within the shelter in a manner she identified as being the most irresistibly provocative to a lingerie freak, she took a step back to admire her work, thinking,

"Eat that panty boy."

Then she reached beneath a pleated white skirt and drew the tiny swathe of rag from her cunny which she had been incubating since the previous day, she examined the smudge in the gusset and tossed them onto the floor of the shelter.

"Sniff those panty boy. Job done," she thought and picked up her laundry basket and headed inside via the front entrance. She caught sight of her sister about to enter her office and called to her,

"Is Olivia in today sis?"

"She's with the Milky Bar Kid," Angelina replied.

Fabiana touched her index finger to the side of her pretty little nose, smiled broadly, clamped her thighs together and said, "Say no more."

During my visit to the old school, I'd suffered a painful boner from the moment that Angelina had answered the door in her lacy ped socks. I'm sure the bulge in my pants hadn't gone unnoticed and so during my free week I had been shopping to buy myself some appropriate work wear for my new position. I was looking for control top pantyhose with sufficient elasticity to hold my stiff shaft close to my abdomen. The young and attractive female shop assistant had been rather surprised when I expressed the wish to try them on in the dressing room and looked at me rather curiously when I went to pay for two pairs, one beige and one black in tone.

I had visited the open air market where I spotted a packet of five pairs of identical fuschia-pink full-cut cotton panties with large white polka-dots to the front panel which I found very provocative. They were so girly and feminine and I decided that they would be really naughty to wear beneath my overall whilst going about my duties amongst the company of the three sexy women at the gallery. I would have my own dirty little secret.

I was dressed in these items when I arrived at the gallery for my first day of work and was relieved that I had taken precautions because my cock immediately stiffened on catching sight of the sauciest, mouth-watering collection of feminine lingerie swaying gently in the breeze within the shelter. I looked down with some satisfaction when I saw that I wasn't showing in any conspicuous way. While shoving the front bicycle wheel into the rack I noticed some tiny frothy rag in the corner of the shelter. A garment had fallen from the line and I knew it was something I had to have away. It was hard to resist the temptation to investigate the cloth farther but it was clear to me that if the shelter would be cleared of laundry before the end of the day I might win them for my very own.

I headed for the front door and pressed the porcelain doorbell button and waited. It was Fabiana that answered the door and she was wearing her vintage maid's costume again. I wondered if the decorative lace of her white tiara and the matching lace on her tiny apron came as a set with matching lacy knickers and if so were they presently nestling against her moist little gash.

Everything about Fabiana was unworldly, rare and exquisite. She seemed to be a hybrid woman of two halves. Her upper half was really quite girly with her young face, her darling little tits, her slim waist and her lovely sculpted shoulders and her skinny arms apparently devoid of muscle.

Below the waist, her hips broadened and her buttocks were firm and curvaceous. Her lower half was unmistakably that of an adult woman. Her firm muscular shapely gams were disproportionately long compared to her thorax but no man ever had a problem with that arrangement.

"Two for the price of one," I thought to myself and I longed to fuck her.

The manner in which she had dressed emphasised this distinction, below the maid's dress she wore shimmering pink dance tights and ballerina's points on which she was perched. Half maid, half ballerina. She reached into her cleavage and extracted a single key which she offered me and fluttered her feather duster in my face and said,

"Master key for you, welcome to Fluffy Towers."

"Morning Fabiana, nice to be here, thanks," I replied.

"You have one of Angelina's lists waiting for you in the anteroom. There's a copy of your contract countersigned by us. Could you add your signature to the other copy and bung it in the postbox? Cheers. Watch she doesn't work you to death," she said and giggled and accompanied me through the foyer and the corridor, opening the door to my space and pointing to an orange cotton boiler suit.

"Those are for you, we'll be able to see you coming, help us keep an eye on you, she joked and continued. Ask if you need anything at all won't you? don't be shy, will you? I'll be next door in the hall if you need anything."

"Well, in that case, how about I tongue your fragrant toes in those sweaty dance hose and bury my nose in your aromatic panty covered muff, you horny little hybrid," I thought.

I found that I had been supplied with a kettle and mini-fridge, coffee and tea, so I made myself a brew and sat down at my desk and signed the second copy of the contract. I began to read the list of tasks that Angelina had set for me.

Item one was to transport the lights and the plate camera from my store to the school hall next door and set it all ready for a shoot after morning break at eleven o'clock. I would be assisting Angelina's shoot, I rather wished she might be assisting with one of my shoots but I digress. After lunch, she had assigned me time to familiarise myself with and sorting out the contents of the anteroom.

I changed into my boiler suit. I couldn't help fantasising about the reaction of the women if they could see me there dressed in nothing but my pink polka-dot panties and beige control top hose. The boiler suit was a loose fit that fastened with poppers. I wore it directly above my girly underwear and was delighted to find I could access my tackle directly through the slits positioned alongside the pockets.

I drained off my tea and stacked the lights on a trolley and began to shift all to the hall.

Through the double doors of the hall, I was delighted to see that Fabiana was going through her warm-up exercises by the barre that stretched the whole length of one wall. I knocked on the door and Fabiana gesticulated with a crooked finger and in a manner that a teacher might do to a mischievous child.

"Don't mind me," she said as she continued with her exercises.

Too late, she was already firmly and indelibly in my mind and as I began to unload the trolley I fantasised that I was tethered to the exercise barre by both wrists with Fabiana's dance tights. She had put me in black fully fashioned stockings with plain two-tone welts which were attached to a black suspender belt. Smelly, silky black bikini panties covered my face, the gusset above my nose, and she was standing between my spread-eagled legs and twisting my turgid balls and tugging at my rigid penis and insisting that I should spill my filthy man-muck for her.

"Nice arse," said Fabiana giggling as she watched me unloading the trolley.

I wondered what Fabiana would think if she had known my arse was settled in my sexy feminine underwear. I wanted to return the compliment but it hardly seemed appropriate. I went back to the anteroom for the camera blessed that I had been astute enough to look after the bulge in my saucy panties using the firm top control hose.

Just prior to morning break Angelina arrived in the school hall to inform us to reconvene there in twenty minutes. She wore plain knit white cotton ankle socks without shoes and she wore the usual cut-off denim and white 'T' shirt. It was clear she had neglected to wear a bra. I longed to feel the soft cotton of the soles of her socks brushing my lips, her tiny toes teasing my hungry nostrils or indeed the sensation of her entire cotton encased foot being forced into my mouth. I guess you could say that I wanted to bless her little cotton socks!

Angelina didn't really do glamour, hippy chic was more her thing but Fabiana was a different kettle of fish.

After the break, I waited with Angelina in the hall whilst she explained the shoot that she had planned,

"It's fairly simple this one Mark, no stress, plenty of time. Should give you the opportunity to familiarise yourself with the equipment." She demonstrated how the camera was to be loaded with a plate holder and then briefly described what she would be trying to achieve with the lighting.

Fabiana arrived. My mouth opened. She was attired in some expensive silky black lingerie consisting of a lacy patterned translucent half-length delicate bodice which hung from her shoulders and covered her mammary buds. The density of the lace to the front obscured her nipples but the delightful swell of her breasts could be clearly seen through the sheer fabric at the sides of the garment. Her panties were a silky black nylon bikini with lacy translucent panels at the hips. Her stockings and suspender belt were RHT with seams and plain welts.

Fabiana had grown considerably. She was tottering through the hall perched on black high heeled strappy sandals, the heel was ten inches high due to the five inch of the stacked platform that supported her toes.

"Ready," Fabiana declared.

"Ready, ready my foot," said Angelina and when Fabiana merely stared vacantly, her sister added, "Your frikkin' seams, how many more times?"

A broad, gleeful and belligerent smile emerged from between Fabiana's crimson red lips and she gazed towards her seams and almost lost her balance from her ten-inch perch as she did so.

"Help her will you Mark?" Angelina requested.

I wasn't sure what form my help might take but I was happy to be involved so I approached Fabiana and threw caution to the wind, took her by the hand and led her over to her exercise barre so that she could steady herself.

"Do the honours, Mark, would you?" said Angelina and I was eager to follow her instructions.

I started on Fabiana's first seam and may have paid more attention than was necessary but I didn't pass time in heaven every day. I began on her second stocking seam but noticed that the stitching of the toe was distorted and did not run along the tips of her tender piggies. I didn't wait for permission. I had an excuse to undo the buckle and remove her shoe and I wasn't intending to lose the possibility of that enviable heavenly delight.

Fabiana's delicious little moist, warm nyloned foot felt wonderful in my hands and even better was that a faint aroma of musty toe yeast accompanied my endeavour.

Fabiana called to her sister, "Making the most of that ain't he sis?" and sniggered. Angelina not unreasonably said nothing.

Soon Fabiana was back on her perch and she looked at her sister and said again, "Ready."

"Ready, my frikkin' ass," said Angelina and pointed with her eyes towards Fabiana's crotch.

Fabiana returned a vacant and confused look which was resolved when Angelina with some irritation said,

"Your fuse is hanging low."

Fabiana noted that the string of her sanitary towel was dangling from her knickers.

"Do the honours, Mark, would you?" said Fabiana causing her sister to lose patience, approach Fabiana and sort her out.

"Frikkin' well behave," Angelina warned her sister.

I rubbed my nose, it wasn't itching but it could have been, the girls wouldn't know and I wanted to enjoy the faint scent of Fabiana's stocking foot that still lingered on my fingers.

The shoot itself was relatively simple. Angelina routinely used eight glass plates and she seemed to have an intuitive knowledge of exactly what she wanted to capture. It was the stacked sandals that were being celebrated and their manufacturer that had awarded the commision.

"Cut," announced Angelina comically to signify she had used all of her glass plates and continued, "That will do for today. We'll do the other pairs later in the week."

We broke for lunch.

Heading back from the staff toilet on my way back to the anteroom I passed the open door of the Headmistress' office, took a lung full of the dense smoke that was billowing from there and overheard Olivia informing the others,

"Well enough for a couple of weeks but the immediate future doesn't look assured."

In the anteroom, I began to investigate the contents of the multiple boxes and tea chests that littered the space. I worked throughout the afternoon break and by the end of the day I had unpacked lots of useful tools, equipment and sundries from the neglected boxes and had arranged them on the surrounding shelving. The school clock chimed once which informed me it was five thirty and time to go home. I removed my boiler suit and my master key dropped from my pocket and bounced under my bench.

I kneeled and peered below the bench to retrieve the key and I noticed a cardboard box that was otherwise beyond sight so I pulled it out and placed it on the bench top. My knees went weak when I opened the flaps of the box to find it full of twisted pantyhose rope like that which was used for Angelina's mounts for her gimp exhibits. I could see that a number of pairs of panties were captured within the nylon rope. Those panties would take some time to extricate, perhaps a whole evenings work, I felt compelled to stuff the entire contents of the box into my rucksack, I was sure the gallery would be okay with me doing some unpaid overtime.

Fabiana was on tiptoes peering from behind the curtain of the clinic, she had arrived there in time to hear the school-clock chime and was waiting for Mark. She had cleared her lingerie from the washing line but not the rag she had tossed on the ground. Now she was waiting to see if Mark would notice it.

She began giggling because sure enough having unlocked his bicycle and lifted it from the shelter she saw him pushing something into his back trouser pocket and the floor of the shelter lay bare. She imagined him holding her stinky miniscule mesh panties to his nose as his hand stroked his cock and encouraged the sticky viscous contents of his balls to make a bid for freedom landing in her naughty salty scanties.

In actual fact, Mark didn't do any such sort of thing.

Having spent a couple of hours at home unwinding the nylon pantyhose ropes he had hidden in his rucksack Mark was now busy photographing his bounty for posterity. There were numerous pairs of natural coloured pantyhose that had liberated four pairs of bikini panties. Mark lamented that everything had been laundered.

After a single day's work, Mark was now the proud owner of the naughty knickers of both of the two sisters. Three pairs of the panties that were extracted from the hose rope were identical in size and style, in fact, peas of a pod which suggested that they belonged to the same girl, they simply must be Angelinas. Pink, lemon and white. The fourth pair of panties of similar size were white and crowded with the outline of little cartoon rhinoceroses. All those panties had seen better days, the waist elastic was stretched and the crotch and gusset showed signs of wear and tear. Then I noticed that the plain white pair had had the crotch cut away, home-made crotchless panties, what a dirty cow.

I waited for Cath to retire for the night and then made some cocoa and smoked a stiff spliff. I put on what I assumed were Angelina's white panties and dragged my erect shaft and balls through the open crotch. I sleeved my cock with the leg of a pair of the white pantyhose I had unwound and arranged my cock head in the discoloured toe. I reached for my trousers and extracted the tiny nylon garment from my back pocket that I had found in the bicycle shelter

I stretched the miniscule translucent red 'g' string between my hands as I lay on my back and was overwhelmed to discover that they were decorated with small embroidered red hearts, so fucking sexy. Even at arm's length I could smell Fabiana's cunt and my cock bobbed rhythmically and a little drop of seminal fluid moistened the toe of the pantyhose sleeving my cock.

I breathed into the gusset of Fabiana's cloth to reinvigorate the copious slimy smudge and the growing intensity of the aroma caused me to lose it without even having begun to manipulate my cock. Simply the thought of being so intimate with the two beautiful blond sister's knickers caused my viscous jism to start to flow and it pulsed through the stocking toe and pooled on my skin by the root of my cock.

When I messed with Caths knicks I would always nibble and suck at the soiled gussets until all her cooze had gone into solution and disappeared down my red lane. Presently Cath's soiled knickers were an inexhaustible supply in contrast to Fabiana's sticky panties so I was pleased to have preserved the creamy pale coloured discharge in Fabiana's knickers. I would keep them in that state until I was able to replace them with another pair of her equally provocative pungent panties.

I fell into a satisfied slumber that was finally interrupted by my alarm. My bell-end was glued into the hose in the morning and I had to peel them away in the shower. My new job demanded that I would have to leave the apartment even before Cath but at least there was a compensation for that loss. I didn't wear my polka dot panties that day. The irresistible notion to pass the day in Angelina's crotchless knickers while being in her company had the better of me. I put on my beige control top hose above them, my trousers and top and finished my preparations to leave the house.