Your stocking fetish got out of hand this weekend, didn’t it?
I caught you indulging in your stocking fetish and now you’re really up shit’s creek. But I’m getting ahead of myself. Let’s start from the beginning. your daughter goes to dance class every Saturday. Usually, when she’s done, she meets you outside and you go home together. This is normally how you keep yourself in check, too. You arrive at 7:30, just as she should be walking out of the door, and take off before you even get a chance to let your mind wander. But, with the recital coming up, classes have been running over and you never know how much long they’ll go on.
So you get to the dance studio and your daughter is nowhere to be seen outside. Then you start thinking about that waiting room. The one with the one way mirror so that parents can watch their little swan princesses prance around. The one where you get to see all those tight, young bodies, twirl, and lunge in those hot, flesh colored tights. You could sit in there and jack off for hours but, for now, you just convince yourself to go inside and wait with the other parents. That’s when you see the tights on one of the seats left behind by some thoughtless dancer and the dirty little engine in your brain starts chugging. None of the other parents are looking at you. They’re too busy pointing out their special little snowflake. So, you have a seat where the tights are laying and you stuff them in your back pocket before anyone notices. Then you make a B line to the nearest restroom.
Your cock’s so fucking hard that you don’t even know if you’re going to make it. They were shiny and tan and clearly used. You wonder which of the girls it could possibly belong to. Once inside, you get to have a good look at them at the sink. You often imagined what a stocking foot job would feel like from one of those hot, young girls, but you settle on sliding both of your hands where the feet go and jerking off. You know you won’t last long.
“Wow, Mr.H. I was going to ask for them back but…”
You flinch in horror when you see a girl walk out of the stall you’re standing in front of. Worst still, you recognize her.”Jesus, Crystal!”
“The men’s bathroom is down the other hallway. It’s no big deal though. When I couldn’t find them, I just decided to put on a spare. See?” You watch me lift my legs up slowly towards you and rest it gently against your cheek. The fabric feels so good her feet smells delicious. “Please continue.”
You barely choke the words out, “Crystal, I-I-I don’t think…”
“Fine. I’ll just go back to class. Boy, will the girls be surprised when I tell them about this guy I saw jerking off with a pair of stockings in the girls’ bathroom. Kinda looked like Stacy’s dad…”
“Wait! Wait!” You beg.
You begin to stroke it for the girl blackmailing you. You’ve really done it now. Why wouldn’t you just stay in the car?! Crystal was so busty with this beautiful, round ass. You always saw her as more of a stripper than a ballet dancer in her tights and leotard that seemed to dip inside her ass like a thong at times.
“Your hands are shaking. Here, let me help you,” I say. I drag my food slowly down your chest and onto your frightened, yet still very hard, cock. My toes roll over the head before the sole of my foot takes over. “Mmm, having you as my little plaything will be fun, Mr.H. That is, if you want me to keep your secret.”
Wanna know how this stocking fetish story plays out? Give Crystal a call and she’ll tell you!
