Sylvie's show - Sex Stories

Sylvie's show

... before I got home to rub one out while thinking about peeling the tights off of Sarah, Lilly, Miriah, or Sylvie. I should mention my tights and pantyhose fetish. Almost as long as I can remember I have been incredibly attracted to girls and women in pantyhose. For more than a year when I was ten years old, my 14-year-old sister still in leotard and footed tights would lay on our living room couch after dance class and let me rub her feet and calves every week before our parents got home. The image of her young teenage feet and legs, her leotard-wrapped crotch, and pert nipples straining through her spandex leotard stay with me to this day. My college girlfriend knew I liked hose and would often wear them for me when we went out. She would giggle as I kissed her feet and legs and fondled her nylon bottom before undressing and making love on her dorm bed. I notice pantyhose everywhere I go. It has been a lot of years since nurses changed from skirts and stockings to scrubs, but a surprising number of my younger co-workers wore support pantyhose under their scrub pants. Every day or two at the hospital I would get a tantalizing glimpse of waistband or a nylon ankle. The school was pretty casual, so few of the female teachers wore stockings. Students, of course, were more casual than the teachers. There were lots of black tights in the winter and when girls on the basketball or volleyball team dressed up on game days, often one or two would come with legs clad in sheer tan or ...

... nude hose, my favorite. Sylvie was one of the girls I saw quite a lot. An eighth grader, she was a lieutenant on the dance team. She had asthma and was forgetful, so every few weeks she was in my office using her back-up inhaler. She also genuinely seemed to have a real rough time of it every month and would often spend the better part of a day with a heating pad on one of my cots. Sylvie was an affectionate and uninhibited chatterbox. Unlike most of her peers she was straightforward when she came into my office: "The cramps are really bad this month, Mr. S." When she came in for her inhaler or something like Tylenol she would jabber on and on about which of her friends liked which boy or the new clothes she got at the mall. Sylvie always gave me a big hug after getting off the floor at her dance contests. The hugs invariably lasted just a second or so longer than seemed appropriate. As hard as she pressed herself against me, she must have felt my rigid penis against her stomach. I found her entertaining, adorably frivolous. She was about 5'4", lean with a curvy little bottom. Her breasts were like plums and sat high on her chest. Her green eyes twinkled above her little button nose. Her long brown hair was often in french braid down her back. On a Wednesday in February, Sylvie sashayed into my office. "Are you going to the Valentine's dance on Friday, Mr. Schuller?" The principal had asked me weeks ago to be there as the school nurse. Last year my eyes feasted on many dozens of ...