Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience. Stocking Tales By Jeremy Spencer Copyright 2004 All rights reserved. This story may be downloaded for personal use, but any posting to a website, free or otherwise, is strictly forbidden. If you have found this story somewhere other than my page (/~Jeremy_Spencer/) or at Storiesonline, please let me know by filling in a feedback form at either place. Author's Note: The following is a fictional story. In it, fictional characters have hot, sweaty, unprotected, fictional sex. They live in a fictional world without fictional diseases. You do not. Be careful. All characters in this story are old enough to know what they're doing. Now, on to the show! ***** The following four stories were written for a flash contest held on Desdmona.com. Only three stories could be submitted by each author, so The Ties That Bind had to "stay at home," so to speak. The contest officially closed on April 11 and the winners were announced on May 1. For the purposes of the contest, each story had to deal in some way with stockings. The color, thickness and texture were of no importance, as long as they were stockings. None of my selections was a winner, but I thought I'd post them nonetheless. ***** THE TIES THAT BIND Jared strained, but found himself immobilized. He craned his neck, trying to identify his captors, but the room was too dark. "I can't feel my fingers," he complained. "Good," a voice replied. "We don't want your fingers." A soft hand circled the flaccid mass of his penis and Jared groaned in embarrassment as his prick swelled rapidly. "That's perfect," a second girl whispered, nodding toward what Jared had always thought of as a frighteningly inadequate erection. "Who are you?" he asked. A single stocking covered each girl's face, obscuring their features. "Never mind," the first girl answered, still stroking his erection. "ButÉ" "Quiet," she hissed, turning to the other girl. "He's ready." The second girl stripped and quickly straddled Jared's hips, clothed only in white pantyhose. She reached between her legs, tearing at the thin nylon until a small hole appeared. The girl lowered her pussy over Jared's slender shaft and he felt her heat and wetness surround him, even through the panty. One slender finger covered his lips as Jared started to protest. Without warning the girl dropped down on his prick. She gasped as Jared's cock tore through her maidenhead and buried itself inside her warm cunt. Jared felt her legs shaking through the hose as she trapped his body between her thighs. She thrust against Jared weakly, whimpering softly from the discomfort until finally she crawled off him, her hose flecked with drops of her virgin's blood. The other girl mercifully gave Jared his orgasm, sucking his prick through a slit in the stocking still covering her face. As suddenly as they had appeared the two girls vanished. Jared listened, but could hear only his own breathing. Testing his bonds he realized he was still trapped. "I'm never delivering pizzas out here again," Jared moaned. The End ***** RUBBED THE RIGHT WAY "You're wearing those?" Chuck asked. "What?" Carol answered in confusion "Those hideous things!" he grinned. Chuck tried to stifle his laugh as he pointed at Carol's leggings. They'd been a gift from his mother and Chuck wondered if his wife wasn't as close to her mother in-law as she thought. A pale caramel, the thick wool tights were rough to the fingers and Chuck was amused that Carol wore them constantly. "Why don't you wear long underwear instead?" he asked. "I like these better." Chuck was stretched out on the bed, his erection poking up through his pajama bottoms. He was ready for their Thursday evening tryst, but she needed one more cigarette. Chuck's asthma was severe, so on went the tights while she braved the frigid Milwaukee winter once more. "Don't they itch?" Chuck laughed, thinking of Carol's shaved pussy underneath the scratchy material. "Give me your hand," Carol commanded. She took his fingers, moving them over the crotch of the tights. Chuck could feel the outline of her crease through the caramel colored wool. Carol sighed as his fingers slid along her damp slit, the heavy material soaked with her juices. Sliding his hand under the elastic waistband, Chuck gasped as his wife's slick pussy was suddenly under his fingers, her bare skin hot and wet. "They're just so perfect," she moaned as his finger dipped into the dripping well of her tight cunt. "How so?" "They are rough, but they rub me the right way." Carol quivered under Chuck's fingers as a small orgasm shook through her pussy. "I can always wear something else if you don't like these," she said, grinning as a wet spot formed on the front of his pajamas. "No, no," he stammered. "I understand now. These are... quite nice." The End ***** ON THE PIANO "Get out and never return!" the maitre d' shouted as the couple exited the posh restaurant, followed quickly by a half-clothed busboy. "Did you do it?" the man asked the flushed and panting woman. "Yes," she whispered, struggling with her blouse, now haphazardly tucked into the waistband of her frayed pantyhose. The man reached out, pulling her toward him as he stared into her eyes. "Let me feel." "Here?" she asked, looking around nervously. "Here," he demanded, stopping in the middle of the sidewalk. They stood motionless as a large crowd of people surged around them. "Right now?" she asked, panic creeping into her voice as a flush spread over her chest. He nodded, and a shiver of excitement shot through her body. He pushed her back against a wall, her legs parting in anticipation as he reached roughly between her thighs. He hissed as he felt her pantyhose, tattered from her recent tryst, sticky fluids running down her legs. "Oh God," she moaned, as his thumb, slick with her juices, found her clit. She thrust against his fingers, shuddering as a tremor shot through her pussy. She blushed as he brought his fingers to his nose, sniffing and then tasting the slick secretions. "Very good," he said. He loved the taste of another man's semen mixed with her natural juices. "You didn't need to check," she sulked. "I always do what you want." "I know," he said, his hard cock tenting his pants. He would be buried in her cunt ten seconds after they arrived home. In his mind he could already see himself ripping away the last of the flimsy nylon hose she was wearing, stained and ruined with another man's sticky cum. "Where did you fuck him?" he asked. She blushed. "On the piano." The End ***** IN THE UNMENTIONABLES Roger left his cleaning detail, moving quickly past the winter jackets and wool sweaters, his cock already stiffening in anticipation. Tonight she was wearing lacy black panties and a pink satin bustierre. One strap had fallen down and Roger's breath caught in his throat as he glimpsed her pale white shoulder. There she is. Waiting for me. Beautiful as ever. Cautiously, Roger freed his swollen cock, his zipper echoing harshly in the quiet store. His shaft was thick and heavy as he swiftly stroked himself. Roger reached out, trailing his fingers along her smooth leg. She didn't move, even as his finger snuck under the top of her black thigh high stockings, accidentally popping loose a garter. So smooth. Her legs were pale and firm as Roger felt between her thighs, inching nearer her panty-covered pussy, his other hand sliding over his trembling erection. God, no! So soon? Quicker than he would have wished, Roger felt the tension and heat become almost unbearable as the cum boiled up from his balls, rushing through his quivering shaft. Fuck, he hissed as spurt after spurt of his heavy cream splattered against her thighs, damp spots appearing up and down her legs. Those stockings are ruined, Roger cringed, ashamed as always of his weakness. Afraid he would be missed in his part of the store, Roger hurriedly zipped up his pants. Reaching around, he wiped the remnants of his orgasm on her face. She never turned and Roger wished he knew the color of her eyes. As he slowly ambled away, Roger took one last glance behind him. His semen was already drying, crusting on her silk stockings. I'd hate to be the poor bastard who has to clean up the mannequins every night. The End