Boys, Toys, and Lingerie – Part 1

It was a sunny day in July.  I was just arriving home after meeting with a client. 

As I pulled into the driveway, my eyes spotted the familiar sight of two packages at the front of the house.  I smiled to myself as I pulled into the garage.  I knew exactly what they were: our latest online purchase!

Years ago, my husband and I had adopted the practice of looking for sexual toys or intimate wear for one another together.  Not only was it an arousing thing to do for both of us, but it eliminated the need for returns due to something not quite fitting my figure, or something not quite up to his standards of sexy.

As most women do, quite often I go for comfort.  But if I can find something that’s sexy and comfortable?  Winner winner chicken dinner!

I walked back out of the garage and picked up the delivery.  One was one of those large brown paper envelopes, and the other was a typical cardboard box.  I couldn’t wait to get into the house and open them up.

Once inside, I put my purse and briefcase down, then ripped open the paper package.  This one contained a matching bra and panty set, bright red in color; the panties were a lace thong with a very low V-cut.  I held it up in front of me, looking at the V and imagining what it would look like on me.

Then I picked up the bra by the straps—a quarter-cup balconette bra.  These don’t always work for me, and I have to be sure to buy underwire in order to support my D-cup breasts.

Reaching inside I found the third part of the outfit: a pair of black thigh-high stockings with a red band around the top, red reinforced toes and soles, and a red, flower-patterned seam running up the back of each leg.

“Ooh, sexxyyyy!” I said out loud, slipping my hand into the stockings to see how sheer they were.

I cut open the tape on the box.  Inside was something my husband wanted to see me use, but which I still wasn’t sure about: Big Duke, a realistic and very thick 8-inch dildo.

I pulled it out and held it in my hand, feeling the heft of it.  I could barely touch my fingertips as I wrapped them around the girth.  I gave it a gentle squeeze to see exactly how pliable it was, then I wet the suction cup and stood it up on the counter in front of me.  As I let go of it, it pointed upwards proudly and quivered a bit. 

A hint of uneasiness nudged me.  I’m not that big, and I’ve never been a fan of huge toys or men with oversized equipment.  But this is what he wanted.  He wanted to watch me try it and see how it felt.  Although we had never done it, it was always one of his fantasies to see me handling two penises.  A number of times we’ve roleplayed another man joining us to indulge in this fantasy.

I still had an hour and a half before he got home from work.  I figured I should probably try on the outfit first.  Leaving Duke sticking up on the counter, I picked up the lingerie and walked back to the bedroom.  

In a minute I had stripped out of my wraparound dress and my intimates.  I was most excited about the stockings!  Sitting on the edge of the bed, I bunched one up at my toes, then slipped it over my foot and worked it back and forth until I could get it over my heel and up to my knee.  I smoothed the wrinkles and stretched it some more, continuing to pull it all the way up to my thigh.  Once it was smoothed out, I repeated the process with the second one.  

With a huge smile on my face, I stood up to view myself in the mirrored closet doors facing our bed.  I was very pleased.  More than that, I was giddy with delight!  My fingertips playfully covered my mouth as I took in the image in the mirror, briefly straightening out the seam on one leg.

The fact is . . . I have a stocking fetish.  

A friend of mine helped me discover where it came from in my past.  When I was young, my father was a salesman and he’d often be on the road for a week or two, leaving me and my mom at home.  My mother was a very proper church-going woman and always kept herself and her house immaculate.  It was an unwritten code that anybody who walked in the front door would remove their shoes.

One of the ways that she occupied her time in the absence of my father was to have women’s groups at her house—book clubs, women’s league, crafting, etc.  On some weeks there might be three groups meeting at our house on different days.  Many of the same women attended more than one.

When they would walk in the door, it was my job to be there to greet them, and per the house rule they would remove their shoes.  I would drop down to my knees in front of them, sometimes holding their shoe for them to step out while they balanced themselves on my shoulder.  I remembered them pulling their feet out, quite often clad in nylons, sometimes socks, and at other times barefoot.  As they pulled out of their shoes, I would watch how they curled their toes and flexed their calf.  The feel of the nylon brushing over my hands, and the smell of the material was somehow pleasing.  The ladies would continue on into the house, and I would take the shoes to the back door so they wouldn’t clutter the front hall.  

At that point, I never put two and two together.  It wasn’t really a sexual thought in my mind at the time.  But the combination of the sight, scent, and feel of nylon was almost intoxicating to me. 

Once I was an adult, I met a woman who owned a few lingerie stores in town.  She was also bisexual and we had become friends.  Those of you who have read my comments or other stories would know that this was woman who would eventually try to seduce me one time.  Nothing ever happened; as much as I wanted it to happen at the time, I stopped it.  However, we did develop a friendship which we’ve maintained to this day, even though she’s 19 years older than I am.  She’s still as lovely as she was the day I met her, back when I was in my thirties, and she is the one I have to thank for helping me better understand where my love for stockings came from. 

Standing in front of the mirror, I turned around, looking at myself, reaching my hands down, just feeling the warmth of my legs through the nylon.  I gingerly ran my fingertips up over my stocking and bare thigh and grazed my labia and clitoris.

I smiled, thinking of how much my husband would enjoy these too.  My husband has a fetish for stockings as well, so it’s a good thing we get to share an enjoyment of the same thing.  It’s quite common for him to pay special attention to my legs while I have nylons on: caressing and massaging my legs and feet, licking my soles and sucking my toes, and kissing all over.  And both of us very much enjoy the feeling of me giving him a footjob with my nylon-clad feet, curling around and pulling on his erect penis. 

Thinking about that was turning me on, but I needed to hold off on enjoying myself!  I still had the rest of the lingerie to try on! 

I pulled on the panties, smoothing and stretching the V in front.  It dipped so ridiculously low that it barely covered my clitoris!  And the red nylon and lace was so snug that it showed the outline of my hood and labia.  I couldn’t resist a little touch, and my fingertips traced over it, feeling my dampness already gathering through the thin fabric of the panties.  I knew I was aroused, but hadn’t realized just how aroused I was until then!

I twisted and turned, watching myself in the mirror, looking at the thin piece of string running up the crevice between my cheeks.  I pulled on the waistband, stretching, smoothing, and settling the material so it sat just right.  Then I slipped my hands down over my behind, feeling the curvature and giving myself a gentle squeeze with each hand.  Bending over and pulling my cheeks apart, I was delighted by just how much was displayed.  I could see the puckered wrinkles around my anus and the string disappearing inside the crevice of my labia.

I grabbed the bra and slipped my arms through the straps, fitting it underneath my breasts and reaching behind to clip it together.

“Voila!” I said to myself, enjoying the view.  My breasts were held aloft by the fabric and underwire of the bra, leaving nothing to the imagination.  My nipples were now stiff and poking up with nothing covering them.  I ran my hands up over my stomach and breasts, and pinched and pulled my nipples to get them situated, all while smiling at myself.

“Oohhhh, he’s gonna love this!”

From the closet, I pulled out a pair of strappy heels and slipped them on my feet.

Not too bad for a woman in her mid-fifties, I thought to myself.

Years earlier I had learned the real power of lingerie: the power to make a woman realize her feminine sexuality.  This power allows her to see past what she sees as her own shortcomings and be a sexual lioness.  

It was a lesson taught to me by another woman I met years ago who started out as a client and ended up becoming a friend.  Coincidentally, she owned two lingerie stores as well!  Over the years, she had dealt with many women who came in, not grasping their sexual identity, but desiring to ignite sexual pleasure in their marriages.  Many of those women had little idea how to achieve this, though.  My friend, R, was part store owner, part psychologist, part sexologist, and part teacher.  Her personal approach with her customers created a very satisfied clientele which turned into a loyal customer base.

R’s insights about lingerie were proving true right now, and I loved the feminine sexual power I saw in the mirror!  Liking the feel of the way I looked, I decided to keep everything on for a bit.  Walking back out to the kitchen, I could feel my breasts lifted and plumped with the encouragement of the bra, and jiggling with every step in my heels. 

From the hall to the kitchen counter, there were some windows with open curtains, and there was a small but real chance I could have been seen through them.  I strolled casually past them, feeling a tinge of excitement at the thought of possibly being seen.  As I hit the kitchen floor, the tapping of my heels added to the ambiance.

Back in the kitchen, my eyes landed on Big Duke.  As I walked by I gave him a little slap and said, “Hello, Duke!” I watched him wiggle from the slap as I headed to the refrigerator to get myself a glass of wine.  I lifted the wineglass to my lips while my eyes fixated on Duke.  My other hand reached out and my fingers wrapped around it again, feeling the girth and giving it a gentle squeeze.  Then I loosened the suction and freed him from his perch, and walked him over to the table which was at waist-height.  I applied some saliva to the base of the suction and planted him firmly on the corner.

Once again I was in full view of the windows, but I was feeling daring.  Spreading my feet and moving forward to make room for him, I bent him down slightly and lifted myself up on my toes in order for him to fit underneath.  The pressure of his girth against me magnified the excitement I was feeling.  His head pushed firmly up into my labia.  I leaned forward and looked down at the thick length of penis between my legs.

Tightening my butt, I arched forward and basked in the sensation of my labia parting and sliding over him.  The head was now at my vaginal door.  I pulled my hips back, the excitement of the moment urging me to keep going.  Between what I was wearing, the alien feel of an oversized penis, and the feeling of exposure being in front of the window, I could feel my heart racing.  I began slowly moving my hips, grinding back and forth.  My stomach tightened as my arousal increased.

Finally my sensibilities got the best of me.  I looked out the window to make sure nobody saw me, then I slid myself off of Duke.  He released with a springy bounce, standing upright again, but now wet and glistening with my essence.

Taking him off of the table, I licked the suction cup, walked over to the refrigerator, and stuck him firmly at waist height.  Out of sight from prying eyes now!

I began to reenact what my husband and I had done before with other toys.  Lowering myself down to my knees, my face now at Duke’s level, I wrapped my fingers around the base, pointing his head upward.  Sticking out my tongue, I touched the thick veins along the shaft.  Making my way up the length of it until I reached the head, I opened my mouth wide and filled it with the tip of the massive appendage.  I could feel the ridge of the helmet inside my mouth as I wrapped my lips tightly around it.  My essence left from vaginal play now came in contact with my taste buds, thrilling me like it does every time I taste myself.

Sliding my mouth down farther, I could feel the thickness grow just behind the helmet.  My mouth was stretched open so wide around it.  The thickness soon became too much for me to take it any deeper, so I stopped there and held him in my mouth for a bit, just taking in the sensation before I slid my lips back.

Removing my mouth, I held him up, looking at him and thinking to myself, No way will I fit this inside of me!

Slowly standing up part way, I felt the thick length drag over my cleavage, and the weight landed firmly in between my breasts.  I stayed there for a moment, admiring the look of my breasts cradling that massive penis.  My husband’s cock had rested there in the same way many times.  

I stood up the rest of the way, grasping Duke.  I moved my body forward, pressed my clit against his head, and began masturbating.  It felt amazing!  However, the fact that it was mounted on the refrigerator hindered me.  But I still needed more of him, so I detached him and took him to the bathroom.

This playtime session was far from over.

To be continued next week in Part 2.