The Pantyhose Stalker

Disclaimer: The author does not condone nor encourage forced sex. This story is purely fictional and is a segue into the darker part of the human psyche where forced sex fantasises dwell. The author also does not condone non-consensual or physically forced sex, but acknowledges that men and women do have these fantasises. I certainly do; and I sometimes act them out in real life in my female persona when dressed as Michele. In fact as a transvestite I identify more with the female characters in my stories than I do the male. That said, being bisexual, I am turned on by both the male and female characters; and of course my nylon fetish is self-evident.

Part One

Michele Bouvier sat in the carriage of the subway train pretending that she was engrossed in her notebook computer. She was in fact very aware that she and the man sitting a little further down the carriage were alone in the rattling subway car. The man had been staring at her throughout the journey and she was very nervous.

Michele didn't normally use the subway and never used it late at night. This morning her car had failed to start and her husband couldn't get it going for her. He was in a hurry because he had to get to an important meeting so Michele had agreed to take the subway to work. She had planned to leave work early and get home while it was still light.

Michele Bouvier was a mid-level executive at a publishing firm. Working in sales, she liked to take care of her appearance. She was forty-four and loosing the battle of the bulge. Although not exactly fat she was large framed and carried a few too many pounds; they had piled up on her breasts, which she didn't mind so much, and on her ass and thighs which she hated.

She was always well dressed, usually in a business suit, blouse, hose and heels; well coiffured, she had recently had crimson highlights subtly streaked through her brunette bob, and she always wore lots of makeup.

She knew that the younger women on the staff sniggered at her behind her back; they took advantage of the recently introduced relaxed dress code and wore slacks, skirts, dresses, low-heels or flats and hardly ever wore hosiery and very little makeup. Michele was smart enough to realise that if she dressed that way she would look frumpy. She kept to her sophisticated look and knew that some of the men liked the way she dressed, but more importantly, her dress style helped to hide her flaws.

She was wearing a grey pinstriped business suit, skirt and jacket combination. She wore a dark green satin blouse, black high-heeled sandals and expensive taupe control-top pantyhose. She was sophisticatedly accessorised with gold jewellery, earings and watch, red-painted fingernails and toenails and plenty of makeup.

At about four-thirty in the afternoon she was called to an impromptu sales meeting and in the heat of the drawn out discussions she forgot all about not bringing her car to work. By the time she boarded her train it was after nine pm.

At first Michele didn't think too much about having to ride the train; she was busy transposing her hand written notes into her notebook computer; working on the report she would have to table tomorrow. In a way this was better than driving; at least she could work!

Then she noticed that the carriage had emptied and she was in the carriage alone with the intense-looking man wearing a Hoodie who seemed to be staring intently at her; but whenever she looked up he averted his face.

He stared covertly at the matronly women dressed in the business suit; her perfume drifted across to him and he felt his cock become erect in his pants. This woman was just to his taste: sophisticated, nice suit, satin blouse, sheer hosiery and high-heeled sandals that showed off her painted toenails through the gauzy nylon of her sandal-toe pantyhose. She was attractive, a little heavy but he didn't mind that, and she wore lots of makeup. Rep lips, pink and blue eyeshadow, rouge; black eyeliner and mascara accentuated her pretty hazel eyes.

He wanted her and his luck was in; it looked like she was getting off at the station where he laid his trap.

One stop away from her station Michele closed down her notebook and dropped it into her black leather shoulder bag. She flipped open her cell and debated whether she should call home and ask her son or daughter to pick her up from the station. They shared an old clunker that she normally wouldn't be seen dead in, but tonight it might be better to be picked up in a clunker than to wait for a cab. She flipped the phone closed; she was being paranoid!

She stood up and held onto the post next to the door aware that the man was ogling her. Somewhere deep inside her psyche she kind of liked the idea that a young man could find her attractive but her conscious mind was relieved when the train finally stopped and the door opened.

Michele stepped off the train and strode purposely down the almost deserted platform, her high-heels, clicking and clacking on the bitumen floor the sound echoing off the tiled walls. Then out of the corner of her eye she saw a shape coming up from behind her. She flinched and was about to cry out when the man in the Hoodie jogged past her and disappeared around the corner towards the escalators.

She breathed a sigh of relief; he was just another subway rider in a hurry to get home.

The man in the Hoodie unlocked the door to the workshop set into the tiled wall near the escalators. He knew that the maintenance crew had long gone home but he also knew that the subway cops would check the door when they made their regular rounds so the clock was ticking. He slid inside the brightly lit, but dusty workshop and closed the door leaving it open just crack so could see the approaches to the escalator. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a nylon stocking and pulled it over his head. He adjusted it so that the little hole he had cut in the stocking fitted around his lips. He liked to use his mouth on his victims.

Michele turned the corner and smiled; there was the bank of escalators clattering away and she could hear the sounds of other passengers and vendors in the concourse stalls at the top of the escalators. The smells of hamburgers, hotdogs and pretzels wafted down to the platform and Michele's stomach rumbled.

She was berating herself for even thinking about a eating a hotdog as she walk purposely toward the up escalator when a hand reached out of nowhere and dragged her through a door that had suddenly opened. By the time she realised what was going on she was pushed hard up against a filthy workbench. The edge of the workbench dug painfully into her ample buttocks, and the man held a knife under her neck; his face was distorted by the stocking mask he wore over his head. The only part of his face she could make out was his full lips where the stocking had been cut.

"Shut the fuck up! One sound and I'll bury this knife in your throat! Do you understand?" the man hissed, his face close enough that she could smell his breath.

Michele nodded and a single tear ran down her face leaving a black trail of mascara. The man took Michele's bag off her shoulder and put it on the bench.

"We'll look in there later; time for some fun first," he said, more to himself than Michele.

He spun the woman around so that her big butt rested against his crotch and moved the point of the knife to the side of her neck

"Don't fight; don't scream, don't make a sound!" he hissed.

The man bent the buxom woman over the workbench and kicked her heels apart. Her skirt stretched tight across her ample backside. He slid a hand under her skirt and stroked her leg from calf to thigh, revelling in the luxurious feel of her silky pantyhose. He pressed the handle of the knife into the gusset of her panties and pushed; the fabric of Michele's panties and hose was pushed partly inside the lips of her sex.

"You are gonna get stabbed bitch! Either by this," he jiggled the handle of the knife in her quim.

"Or this," he pushed his engorged member against her butt.

Michele could feel the large lump of the man's erection rub against her.

"Please don't hurt me," she begged.

"Wise decision bitch!" he sneered.

"Open your legs!" he ordered kicking at her heels but they couldn't open any wider.

"I can't. This skirt is too tight," Michele sobbed.

"I can fix that," he snarled.

He grabbed the hem of Michele's skirt either side of the kick-pleat and viciously pulled the fabric apart. Michele's skirt split at the back-seam and parted like a curtain; the two halves of her skirt hung from her waist framing her legs. She was wearing her panties over her pantyhose.

"Mag-fucking-nificent!" he whistled.

The large globes of Michele's ass-cheeks stretched the fabric of her red satin full-cut panties tight across her buttocks. The material seemed to shimmer in the harsh light of the overhead fluorescent lights. Michele was wearing expensive sheer pantyhose with a control top to hold in her tummy and to slim her thick thighs. The control top material was a few shades darker than the legs of her pantyhose but it was shiny and soft.

Neither Michele's panties nor pantyhose had a cotton gusset so she wore a thin panty-liner. It was now firmly wedged inside her cunt from when the man had pushed the handle of the knife inside her labia.

The man kicked Michele's heels again until her legs were stretched wide. He loved women with big asses and long legs and most of all he liked women who wore sheer hose and satin panties. He placed the knife on the workbench tantalisingly close to Michele's hand but she was too scared to reach for it.

Michele shuddered and swallowed a scream when she heard the man unbuckle his jeans and drop them around his ankles. This was it! She was about to be sexually assaulted!

"God; I've gotta have me some of that fat pantied ass!" he groaned.

He pushed his groin against Michele's plump buttocks and began to dry fuck her ass. He revelled in the feel of the sleek satin rubbing against his sensitive glans. He lifted the leg opening of Michele's panties and slid his cock inside them and nestled it in the crease of her buttocks. He rubbed his cock along the crevice of her ass, the base of his penis sliding over her pantyhose and the glans sliding under her satin panties. He pushed down with his hand so his cock remained wedged in the woman's ass-crack whilst the fabric of her pantyhose and panties encased his throbbing cock.

Michele wriggled and sobbed when she felt the man's erection wedge itself into her ass-crack; she thought this was just the preamble before he stuck his vile thing in her and sexually assaulted her properly. But Michele didn't realise how much the man liked a woman's ample ass sheathed in nylons and panties.

The Stalker knew he wouldn't be able to last long but he didn't care; he knew that he would recover soon enough to give the woman a proper fucking but right now he was enjoying himself too much to stop. He thrust against the woman's soft yielding buttocks once, twice, three times, and ejaculated. He ground his groin against the woman's soft yielding panty-clad buttocks and let his cock quiver and pulse as he ejaculated on her.

He watched as a wet stain spread across the back panel of the woman's red satin panties and then a white pool of semen appeared in the panty fabric as his orgasm washed over him. He humped and pumped away at Michele's soft fat ass shooting the rest of his spend into the crease of her buttocks.

Michele sobbed with humiliation and shame as she felt the man's hot spend soak through her pantyhose and scald her ass. He shot streams of semen into her ass-crack and it began to puddle and soak into her panties and hose. Some of the viscous liquid ran down the crevice of her ass past her sphincter and into the tangled bush of her pubic hair. She felt debased and disgusted. But, God help her, she also felt a trickle of lust and her vagina began to moisten.

The rapist's erection began to subside and he spun Michele around so that she faced him. Michele couldn't make out the man's features because the stocking on his head contorted his face.

"Please let me go now," she begged as she felt his semen run down her thighs and soak her nylons.

"Oh, not yet honey," he smirked.

He slid his hand back under her skirt and massaged her plump pubis through the layers of panty and pantyhose. He could feel the heat through the silky material. She was wet! Goddamn the bitch was wet!

Michele shuddered as the man caressed her through her underwear. She couldn't help herself; she was becoming aroused. Her husband hadn't touched her for months and now this complete stranger was getting her hot! She blushed with shame but she felt her lust building up to a crescendo.

"You're liking this aren't you, you horny bitch?" the man sniggered.

Michele blushed but she couldn't stop herself gasping as her Stalker massaged her hot wet cunt through her panties and hosiery. Her panty-liner was wedged in her cunt soaking up her juices otherwise her panties would have been soaked with vaginal secretions. The back of her panties and her thighs were sodden with the man's semen but in some insane way this was turning her on even more.

She looked down and saw that the man was erect again; his cock was long and thick, far bigger than her husband's was. Not that she saw much of her husband's cock these days. She made a show of trying to escape again but the man put the knife up to her throat again. She justified to herself that she had tried her best to prevent the man from raping her but in some deep dark place she was ready for a good fucking.

"Ok lady here we go," the man grunted.

He reached into her panties and tore open the gusset of her pantyhose; his fingers found the panty-liner and he pulled it out of her and tossed it on the floor. The man kicked her feet further apart and pulled up her skirt admiring the view of her plump thighs encased in the dark nylon of the control-tops; her red satin panties contrasted nicely with the coffee-coloured hose. Whiffs of dark pubic hair were sticking out the gusset of her panties.

Michele felt the man's fingers trace the outline of her control-tops and then begin a slow and steady crawl up her thighs, stopping occasionally to caress her legs. Michele gasped and the Stalker smiled. It wasn't often that the women he sexually assaulted got off on it; only one other woman had; and she hadn't reported the crime. He stroked the silky material on the front of her panties; the sight of the big red satin V of her full-cut panties was extremely arousing.

He positioned himself between her legs and forced his body against hers to hold her in place and pressed her ass into the workbench. He roughly pulled the gusset of Michele's panties to one side to expose her pubis. Her pubic hair was unkempt and quiet bushy; he could smell feminine hygiene product but it couldn't mask the musky smell of arousal coming from her cunt.

"You are hot for it bitch!" he smiled.

Michele looked him in the face; her eyes cold.

"I can't control my body; take what you're going to; but don't think I'm consenting to this," she said solemnly.

Michele grunted as she felt the Stalker's fingers part her outer lips and then explore the inner folds of her cunt. She bucked her ass and tried to stamp on the Stalker's feet with her high-heels. He laughed and pushed his finger inside the entrance of her vagina. Michele moaned as the thick digit slid easily into her sodden snatch.

"Christ! Why I am responding like this! I don't like it! I hate it!" she chanted.

"That's not what your cunt is telling me," the Stalker replied.

He explored Michele's wet tunnel; he was very excited, and a thin stream of clear fluid leaked from the eye of his glans and dribbled onto Michele's thigh and was quickly absorbed by her sheer nylon hose. He extracted his finger and licked it tasting a mixture of pussy and perfume.

Michele was quivering with fright but she was also aroused; the man was now working on her clit and her juices were flowing freely. She was panting and her hips were moving back and forth in time with the man's stroking. God he was getting her hotter than she'd been for years. The Stalker positioned the head of his cock at the entrance to Michele's vagina and parted her labia.

Michele made one more plea for him to stop despite the fact she was turned on like a wanton whore.

"Please don't do this; I beg you," she cried.

The Stalker pushed forward and the head of penis slid easily inside the well-built woman. Michele had had two children and her pussy was far from tight but it fit around the Stalker's hard thick cock like a satin glove. He groaned.

"Oh my God" Michele whimpered.

The Stalker slowly thrust backwards and forwards, his cock pushing at the walls of Michele's pussy. Michele inhaled explosively as she felt the man's appendage intrude into her vagina, filling her with pulsing hard cock; it was definitely the biggest she had ever had and despite her predicament it felt good.

The Stalker kept pushing forward until his shaft was completely buried in Michele's wet cunt and his pubis slammed against hers. Michele exhaled and forced herself to relax the muscles of her vagina. The damage was done now; the man was raping her so she might as well relax and let him have his way. Her head was filled with conflicting emotions of disgust and lust. She pushed the thoughts of self-loathing aside and concentrated on the wonderful feelings emanating from her vagina.

The Stalker's cock was snug inside Michele's cunt; it throbbed and pulsed, expanding and contracting the walls of her pussy; he rubbed his body against her and his hands sought out her sleek nylon-encased thighs. He liked the feel of her silky nylons and panties against his bare skin. He knew that he couldn't hold back his orgasm for long; he held onto Michele's hips and began to slowly fuck her. He leaned forward and began to nuzzle her neck; inhaling her perfume. Then he had the audacity to kiss her. Michele allowed her lips to open and let the man explore her mouth with his tongue.

The Stalker began to quicken the pace and Michele responded by matching his thrusts with her own; pushing her pelvis out to meet his thrusts so that the base of his cock rubbed on her clitty. He pounded his cock in and out of Michele Bouvier's tight snatch. Her ample ass jiggled whenever the Stalker's pubis smashed into hers which caused her taut thighs to quiver; her silky nylons glittering in the harsh light of the fluorescent lights.

The Stalker was gripping Michele's hips and slamming himself in and out of her and she was gasping and panting as he assaulted her body; her legs were spread wide and her high-heels scratched at the concrete floor as she fought to maintain her balance. Michele could feel the man's cock expand inside her and she knew what was about to happen next. The man was about to spend his seed inside her. Michele used contraception so she wasn't afraid the man would impregnate her but she did give a fleeting thought to sexually transmitted diseases. She was surprised that the man was not afraid to leave his semen on her and inside her; with DNA testing she knew there was a good chance the Stalker could be caught and punished.

Then she felt the man push himself deep inside her and his crotch slammed against hers and he ground himself against her and emptied his seed deep inside her. She could feel the warm ejaculate splash against the walls of her vagina. Michele came and a huge orgasm raced through her body.

She couldn't control herself and she locked her legs around the man and pulled him to her; he loved the feel of her pantyhosed legs on his bare skin and he bucked and ground against this attractive mature woman who was now frantically kissing him and raking her nails down his back.