Pantyhose, Girdles and HeelsbyCheckmate215©
Since I was a young boy I have always been extremely intelligent. In school I was labeled as mentally gifted. There wasn't a subject that, if interested, I couldn't master. This came at the expense of a social life though. While other children played outside, I hit the books and the Internet. Whatever piqued my interest, I would totally engross myself in. I was also withdrawn when it came to girls. I had developed a sort of social anxiety. I didn't have any friends, I was a loner.
At twenty three I was now a Dr. in Computer Sciences, one of the youngest at my job. I did research for a major university as well as owned my own technology research company. I brought in a ton of money in research grants to the school. This pretty much gave me the run of the place. I made my own schedule and came and went as I pleased. I kept the department head updated on my research and findings. People stayed out of my way because I got results. I wasn't sure if that was good or bad. I wanted a social life, I just didn't know how to go about it. I was frustrated with my situation.
My mother never forced me to socialize, though now I wished she had. I was now a social disaster. It terrified me to interact with women. I had never had a girlfriend or sex with someone other than myself. I had to find a way to get over this feeling. I wasn't a bad looking guy; six feet, two hundred pounds, toned but not muscular. I had nice brown skin and brown eyes. My only vices now were porno and trolling the Internet for what I called the trifecta. I would search the Internet for pictures or videos of women wearing 1)Pantyhose, 2)Stiletto heels and 3)Foundation garments i.e.(girdles, spanx, shaping slips). Any combination of the three was a major turn on. Seeing a woman in all three drove me into another stratosphere of erotic pleasure. I had awaken many of mornings with a dead laptop and a sticky right hand.
There were times I would walk blocks out of my way to follow a pair of heels and pantyhose. If only I could touch or feel them. I remember my days as a young man watching my mom get dressed. I didn't feel bad because she was my adoptive mom. She always treated me like I was hers but I still felt a disconnect. She was a lawyer and watching tv in her room before school was a ritual. I would already be dressed and had breakfast while she prepared for work. By the time I was thirteen I would steal looks when I could. She was a well-built woman when she first adopted me. As an early teen she was then just turning thirty eight, and became a little self-conscious. I will never forget that first day.
I was lying across her bed watching the local news and flipping through a video game magazine. This moment would change my life as I knew it.
"Quentin I need your help, come here please."
I walked over her way but still watching the television.
"Here take this in two hands and pull straight up, when I say go."
"O.K.," that moment changed my psyche forever. The feel of this magical material sent shock waves through my teenage hormones. I took it in two handfuls tightly. It felt so heavenly, smooth yet stretchy in my fingertips. She counted to three.
"Ready on three, one, two, three."
I pulled the garment straight up as hard as I could. At the same time she was wriggling in a downward sort of shimmy. Her, (What I later knew all in one girdle) encased ass had grazed my teenage erection inadvertently. My young cock was at full attention. That six second a day wriggle changed me. I looked forward to it every day, it was my highlight. It was the basis for ninety nine percent of my teenage masturbations. Every day, helping her wiggle her pantyhosed ass into this girdle excited me like a drug. She also had a habit of putting on her high heels before she stepped into her skirt or pulled her dress on. This was always the cherry on top. To see her standing there pantyhose, stilettos and girdle. It was a sexual masterpiece for me. This continued until I left for Massachusetts to attend the best technology school in the world.
Now I was a grown man so helping "mommy" into her girdle wasn't necessary. Which at times made me wish I could invent a time machine. She now had a maid since she was now a big time partner at her firm. Over the years I tried to feed my desires by buying different things on the Internet, but it didn't work. There was something about the "trifecta" that was different after each item had been worn. It was if they would take on the essence of the woman who had worn them. There was nothing like going through "mommies" laundry to be done. The smell of the perfume and body lotion mixed with body oils intoxicated me. After a girdle or pantyhose had been worn for twelve hours they were perfection.
If only I could find a woman to fulfill my "trifecta" fantasy. My social anxiety always got in the way of that happening. I thought about paying for a service, but then someone else would know my secret. There was only one way that I thought of. If I could discreetly follow a woman to her home. I could then surveil her, get her daily schedule and be in and out of her place before she knew anything. I would have to do extensive research on surveillance, lock picking, security systems and disguises. Where I lived was in a small warehouse that I had bought and converted to a living space and computer lab. I had the space I needed to make a room for my new hobby. Four weeks later I was pretty well versed in all I needed to get started. I have the ability to retain a great deal of information. If only my intelligence could get me past my anxieties. For a test run I decided to put my skill to the test against Dr. Rogan, my Department head.
I already knew her work schedule, she was in at eight am and left at five pm. You could set your watch by Dr. Rogan, she was a lead by example kind of leader. She was in her early forties and always kept her brunette hair in an updo. She was shapely at 5'5" and dressed conservatively. Business suits, pantyhose and modest heels never over three inches. I knew she was married with one child, a son. For the next two weeks I was on the roof across from their lower east side building on stakeout. The entire family left together everyday at seven am. The husband would drive to Newark, N.J. to his CPA job, and Dr. Rogan would catch the train to the university. She would drop her son off at school down the street. On Tuesdays they had a cleaning lady come in, generally she took a hour and a half to clean the three bedroom apartment. Any day other than Tuesdays I seemed to be able to get in and out.
It was a Friday that I picked. The family left at 7:04, they had a doorman but I wasn't going through the front door. I waited until 10am before making my way to the building. I went around back and up the fire escape to the roof, donned in my telephone repair gear with a full fake beard and glasses. The roof door was simple to bypass. I made my way to apartment 4E. I knew that they had no security system in place. I picked the locks and was inside within 1 minute. Pretty good I said to myself. I had bought quite an assortment of locks to practice on. I wanted to be in and out quickly. I made my way to their bedroom and to her closet. Going through the drawers I finally came across the black sheer pantyhose she had worn the day before. They smelled wonderful, her perfume still wafted through them. I also bagged the black leather heels she had worn with them. Two out of three wasn't bad, the Dr. wasn't a girdle wearer. I made my way home.
I couldn't wait. I wrapped her sheer black pantyhose around my dick slowly. The smooth sheerness had my erection rock solid. I stroked my dick through the soft pantyhose. It felt so utterly amazing. I began to rub my nipple with the heel of one of her shoes. I came in seconds.
I knocked and walked into Dr. Rogan's office around noon.
"Good Afternoon, Dr. Rogan."
"Same to you, Dr. Parker."
"I wanted to let you know that I will be attending this Fridays research fundraiser."
"That is so excellent Dr., what has brought about your change of heart?"
I went on about how I wanted to contribute more blah blah blah. What I was really thinking was how I just masturbated to her pantyhose and heels. They were now on display on shelves I had constructed in my workshop. The pantyhose were neatly folded and put into a small clear plastic box. The heels were placed on the shelf with a small spotlight over them, next to the pantyhose. I faced the shoes in opposite directions. I could see the front of one shoe and the heel of the other. My first trophy, with many more to come. I dreamt of filling the five shelves. I would create a small decorative card to place in front of each conquest. Name and date acquired would be imprinted on each. The conversation ended but I left feeling empowered. I felt like I possessed a piece of her, it made me feel alive. In my mind I thought "I could have the pantyhose she had on that very moment."
For some reason my new hobby was helping my social anxiety. For the next week I was a new man. I was actually able to greet and hold some conversations with women. I had to catch my self from roaming their bodies with my eyes. I would scan them from head to toe, searching them for my "trifecta" stimuli. Friday came before I knew it. I had prepared to find my next trophy at the research fundraiser. The whole world was my hunting ground now. I stashed my spy bag in my trunk and locked it. The fundraiser started at eight, there would have to be some potentials in the building. I arrived, greeted Dr. Rogan and scanned the room. It wasn't a formal affair, people were dressed in regular business attire. Dr. Rogan introduced me to a few potential benefactors before I walked off to mingle. I grabbed a sparkling water from a server. I said a few hellos, before I spotted her from behind. My next trophy was about 10 feet away, standing next to a blonde woman in her forties. She seemed to be struggling with a shoulder bag and a portfolio in her hands. I don't think she knew anyone was behind her. She looked around before giving whatever foundation garment she was wearing a tug, in search of some relief. This set my loins ablaze. She activated a lust deep inside me.
She was pointing something out to the older woman inside the portfolio. Upon arrival all the potential donors were given a portfolio of all the current research being done in our department. I walked by them and asked, "Do you ladies need some help?" If they only knew the source of my new confidence.
My potential trophy pointed to the picture of me in the portfolio.
"Ah, Dr. Parker, Hi I am Samantha Davenport of Davenport industries. This is my executive assistant Melanie Ricci."
"Pleased to meet you, ladies," I shook both of their hands. Melanie Ricci was 5'7" in what looked like 4" navy heels. Her legs were encased in sheer navy pantyhose. Her navy dress fell just below the knee. The dress hugged her curves but was still professional. I couldn't tell what was under the the dress but I knew there was something. Samantha Davenport went on and on about how she wanted one of my programs for her companies security. That was my opportunity to learn more about Melanie. I agreed to take a meeting with Mrs. Davenport to discuss her funding my research. I told Samantha to make the arrangements through Dr. Rogan. I didn't want to seem overly eager.
The meeting was set for the next evening. Dr. Rogan insisted on being at the meeting, she was going to meet me there. Samantha Davenport had a dinner arranged at her estate in West Chester. I waited in the driveway as Dr. Rogan pulled in a minute after I did. We walked in together, she wore the same perfume that covered her pantyhose trophy I had in my workshop. If I could only be a fly on the wall in her house. How did she explain a missing pair of shoes from her closet? Did she blame the maid? Dr. Rogan had on a gray dress that fell just above the knee. Her legs had the sheen of nude pantyhose. The moderate gray heels matched her dress, three inches I estimated. We were greeted as we entered by Melanie. She was wearing a short black dress, black tights and 4" black patent stilettos. Melanie was attractive, she was thick in the hips with a round ass. She had long black curly hair pulled back. She showed us to the great room, where Mrs. Davenport seemed to be holding court. She welcomed us and ordered the waiters over with drinks. Her house was immaculate and grand. After what seemed like an hour of small talk we were ushered towards the dining room for dinner.
"Is there somewhere I can wash up?" I asked Melanie.
"Yes, make a right and it will be the second door on the left."
When I got there two ladies were waiting. I knew that would be the equivalent of at least twenty minutes of makeup touch ups. I asked a passing by maid if there was another one I could use. In this mansion there had to be twenty bathrooms.
"Sure, take these steps to the top make a left, it's the first door."
"Thank you, so much."
I bounded up the steps, not that I really had to go, but I wanted to sit next to Melanie. Admiring all the grandeur I must of missed the bathroom. I ended up in Samantha's bedroom I used her en suite bathroom. There was a door ajar in the bathroom I opened it. It was her walk in closet, the size of a large apartment. I felt like I had won the lottery, more shoes than most shoe stores. I didn't have time to waste so I quickly started going through her things. Jackpot, I found a pair of newly worn pantyhose. I grabbed a pair of red five inch Prada heels and an open bottom girdle. I put them inside my jacket and ran out to my car. I wasn't seen, thank goodness. I stashed the things in my trunk and headed to the dining room. Melanie had actually saved me a seat. Throughout dinner my eyes kept glancing to Melanie's thighs. Her dress had ridden up, her thick thighs were hiding behind those stretched black tights. I always loved the way pantyhose looked on thighs. They would appear a little more stretched over the thickness of the thigh. My mind was torn between what I was seeing and what was in my trunk. My body was hot for either one. After dinner I discussed more in depth my research with Mrs. Davenport. She had agreed to fund my project to the delight of Dr. Rogan. All I could think about was soon having a trophy from all three of these women.
Arriving home I undressed quickly. I sat in my recliner and put her red Pradas on the coffee table. It wasn't long before I spewed two hot loads into Samantha Davenport's expensive open bottom girdle. I recharged and let one off into her pricy pantyhose. Her things took their place on the trophy shelf next to Dr. Rogan's. Her display card read Samantha Davenport date acquired? September 20, 2012. It was one week after acquiring Dr. Kelly Rogan September 13, 2012. Melanie Ricci was next.
My surveillance of Melanie had begun. She lived alone in a Midtown apartment. She worked obscene hours for Samantha Davenport. I don't know how she had anytime for herself. I had chosen a Thursday to make my move into her place. I put on my Delivery uniform and drove over to her building around eleven am. There was no door man at this building. I waited for someone to come out and headed in with my phony package under my arm. I arrived at apartment 5c and knocked. I knew she wasn't home I just wanted to be sure. I picked the lock and got inside quickly. Her apartment was very small but homey. I went into her closet and found what I had observed her wearing the day before. A pair of sheer nude pantyhose, black suede platform heels and the spanx she wore were rolled up like she had taken them off. She was a spanx girl I could see as I looked through her things. This was my most coveted trophy to date. I went straight home.
I unrolled Melanie's spanx and took a deep inhale of them. They smelled like perfume and a body moisturizer I smelled in her apartment. Her pantyhose smelled the same. I laid on the bed and put her pantyhose over my head, covering my face. I had a constant inhale of her as I wrapped her spanx around my rock hard dick. I pumped away as the material felt so good on my skin. I let off into her spanx three times before prepping them for the trophy shelf. I now had half of a shelf completed. I needed three more trophies to complete shelf one. Name? Melanie Ricci, date acquired? September 26, 2012.
A few weeks later I saw her and wanted her on my shelf. Her name was Nicole Smith. Nicole worked at the branch of my bank near the university. This was the first time I had seen her, she must've been new. She was 5'8" and I guessed to be around one hundred seventy pounds. She was more than thick but very sexy in her own way. Her way was over the top. All her clothes were way to tight. Her makeup was overly exaggerated and her accessories nothing short of gaudy. She was a cinnamon complexion with a short crop hair cut. I didn't know if this was her first professional job. Her makeup was way too overdone, her skirt way too tight for an office job. It made her easy to spot though. She was completely oblivious that her too tight skirt had ridden up in the back. She stood in front of me in the Starbucks next door to the bank. I could see the complete outline of her girdle. It came down to mid thigh and was partially exposed in the back. This would make most women cringe in embarrassment, not Nicole. When a older lady from the next line over told her, she just pulled it down slightly. Slightly because the too small skirt wouldn't stay down. It exposed her thick legs and cheap pantyhose. I was still turned all the way on.
My surveillance of Nicole concluded a few weeks later. She had an on again off again relationship with some guy. She lived alone in a brownstone basement apartment in Brooklyn. Nicole partied every Thursday through Sunday. I hit Nicole's apartment right after she jumped in a cab headed to a club I presumed. It was Saturday night, I dressed in a Yankee cap and hooded sweatshirt. These were favorites of her sometimes lover. I got through the lock quickly as usual. Her house was a mess, like a tornado hit her bedroom. I grabbed her cheap black pantyhose and her too small girdle. I looked in the closet it was full of stripper heels. I took a pair of pink studded 5" stilettos.
Lying on my bed, her cheap pantyhose were stiff and scratchy. I wrapped her girdle around my dick and let two go. While I was pumping I envision fucking her in the bank. I would send her back to work with a cum stained girdle and cheap pantyhose. I was disappointed, this one was a let down. I could do better. Name? Nicole Smith, date acquired? October 30, 2012.
I had two more to go to put shelf one in the books. In the meantime working with Davenport meant seeing more of Melanie. I finally worked up the nerve to ask her out. We decided to meet for drinks after work. We met at a neighborhood bar near her office. When I saw her I gave her a tight hug. I could feel her spanx beneath her blouse. She had a gray blazer over her arm that matched her pencil skirt. She had on black pantyhose with gray 4" heels that were a snakeskin print. We grabbed a booth, I let her in and sat on the same side.
"I didn't think you were ever going to ask me out."
"Really? I didn't know you would say yes."
Her original spanx tug had popped into my mind. We went on for hours talking and getting to know each other. We agreed to go out again real soon. I really wanted her, I really wanted anyone wearing a girdle, pantyhose and heels. We said our goodbyes as I watched her maneuver her tight skirt into a cab. Another cab pulled up and out came number five for the shelf.
Marlo Garrett was an advertising executive with a major firm I later learned. I watched her walk into the sushi restaurant next to the bar. She looked sophisticated. I crossed the street and sat in the window of a cupcake shop. I ordered a latte and a red velvet cupcake. I watched her as she was joined by two other women. Marlo was 5'9" in what appeared to be 4" heels. She was a beautiful blonde with a medium build. I watched her for two weeks before making my move. It was tough doing my surveillance in between dates with Melanie. Finally my time had come.