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A continuing story concerning my relationship with a sexy female decorator:
She clambered eagerly from the front seat of the van and pointed a toe toward the pavement below. It was quite a reach for her and her ample chest heaved inside her overalls as she sprang from the vehicle and entered the site with a cheeky grin on her face and said in an eastern European accent,
“Hi, I’m Sophia, pleased to meet you.”
“Henry, pleased to meet you, you must be the cavalry,” I replied.
“Maybe,” she considered and continued, “You’re the Henry in charge of decorating I assume.”
“The one and lonely,” I quipped.
My mind was already running riot. What might such a pretty thing be wearing next to her skin? Likely pantyhose, indispensable for the woman working on site in winter. I’d already mentally dressed her in tan pantyhose with full-cut silky pink knickers beneath and I was busy thinking about sniffing her feet. Even in overalls and jogging pants, it was clear that her arse was up for an award. I was already wishing I was her knickers, that lucky swathe of warm intimate moist rag.
“Let’s pop you into these,” Sophia was thinking. She loved role-playing and she didn’t like to have a boss. “Giddy up,” she would insist as she rode Henry on all fours, she’d put him in her pink panties and wearing nothing else but her tan pantyhose she would nudge Henry forward squeezing him between her nyloned knees.
Her jet black hair was fine and straight and partially captured in a ponytail, the remainder that escaped hung around the perfect oval of her face with its translucent pale complexion and complimented her dark brown eyes, farther emphasized by her large paint-spattered black spectacles.
Sophia was a sight for sore eyes. I loved to steal glances toward her as I worked alongside her, her body was so ripe, generous, cute and curvaceous. I glanced at her arse in the hope of seeing a VPL but with jogging pants and overalls, my hopes were dashed.
“He can’t stop staring at my feet, they’re the centre of his world. All the ruses he uses to try to get his nose in my hose, I know he tries to sniff them. Let’s see how he responds when they get a bit stinky?” thought Sophia.
She always wore white cotton ankle socks of plain weave and her pink crocs regularly abandoned her petite feet allowing me to letch her smooth cotton clad heels, soles and toes. It was apparent that beneath them she wore nylon hose. I adore hose. I wondered if she wore pantyhose or knee-hi nylons and what would her little toes look like in them? How would they smell? Were they sandal stitched or reinforced toe? What colour would she paint her toenails? Would she consent to extract my ejaculate with those little nylon toes having gagged me with her virginal white cotton socks?
“Suck my sweaty sock slave,” I longed for her to demand of me as in turn, she would feed me first her white cotton ankle sock and then her other salty nylon toe.
Sophia was sweet, comical, playful and generous, regularly complementing me on the little tricks of the trade that I would show her. I wanted to rumble her bones, she was such a cuddly, provocative little canlı bahis şirketleri package with a bountiful treasure chest. Her face radiated delight as regularly as it alternatively expressed a naughty impish quality.
“He could hardly speak yesterday, three days in the same pop socks beneath laundered white cotton ankle socks, he was all fingers and thumbs. Then he gave me a golden opportunity to heap them in front of his nose whilst he was snagging the skirtings. He couldn’t speak for foot stink when I asked for his advice. Likes sniff,” Sophia concluded in silence.
Sophia brought with her some of her own personal expertise. I looked in on her putting the finishing touches to a metal bed frame that was being restored. The tip of her tongue passed between her lips and roamed between them as she concentrated and she would constantly deform her mouth and chew her lower lip as she attended to any demanding detail. I imagined my cock head between her meandering lips.
She smiled when she saw me in the doorway.
“He’s gonna love this trick,” Sophia mused.
She sported white latex gloves and was polishing one of the brass knobs that were mounted on the top of each of the four bedposts. Sophia upturned a bottle of metal polish onto the rag in her hand. The strappy rag was minuscule, pale grey in colour and was adorned with dark grey polka dots. The penny dropped and with it my lower lip too as I realised she was polishing with a pair of skimpy panties. Sophia held the delicate sodden rag by the waistband and demonstrated a creamy coloured glob of polish in the downy cotton gusset.
“That’s got you going hasn’t it Henry. I think he likes panties. Henry loves to sniff and he likes knickers too and if one and one make two, what on earth would he do for a pair of my stinky, smelly, well-worn panties,” Sophia quietly considered and went on to say,
“My grandma used to use hers for floor cloths but I’ve found another use for my spent panties, perfect for this job mate, the nylon mesh makes the most gentle of abrasives to bring this brass-work up beautifully. Anyway, it would take all week to clean a floor with my scanty panties,” admitted Sophia with a gleeful smile on her face and added, “Put a sock in it mate.”
I realised that my mouth was still hanging open and I abruptly closed it. I was glad I had my overalls above my trousers as they hid the fact that my own brass monkey had indeed come up beautifully.
“Lots of uses for a pair of used knickers mate,” Sophia informed me.
Her choice of words intensified my discomfort. ‘Spent panties’. I felt she was reading me like a book. I longed to be spent in her panties. The ambiguity of that word ‘used’. “Lots of abuses for a pair of stinky scanties,” I thought.
Sophia was pinching the panty rag between thumb and forefinger and rotating the gusset back and forth around the small brass nipple that capped the brass-work. The copious quantity of cleaner she had employed caused a single rivulet to escape and run down the side of the brass knob. I was stunned and I fled.
I returned to my own job, re-glazing a window and the time slipped by as I recollected canlı kaçak iddaa Sophia’s provocative performance. Despite her youthful appearance, Sophia was nearer thirty than twenty years and I began to muse that she must have lost many a pair of her naughty knickers, her scandalous scanties, her delicate dainties and her precious panties at the very moment that she first slipped into her first little floral training bra. Any guy that found himself in sniffing distance of the voluptuous woman would pursue relentlessly a little something, a sexy saucy souvenir to remind him of her delicious aroma when she was otherwise only present in his kinky carnal fetishistic fantasy.
At her time of life, she would have no illusions regarding what a potent influence her pretty little panties could be for controlling a guy. She would have known just how naughty and provocative she was being, handling those creamy panties like that. Worse, I had to be told to shut my gaping mouth. She had seen how her panty posturing antics had addled my mind.
“What’s up with you Big Ears?” asked Sophia on another occasion. I was standing at the front door and cursing that someone had used the finish coat of paint straight from the tin and contaminated it with a load of shit and I had fuck all to clean it up with.
“He’s asking for it, so you want your nose right in my stinky hose do you, this is going to be fun, poor Henry, one sweaty pop sock heading your way,” Sophia mused.
Sophia passed by me and sat down on the front steps. She removed a pink croc, a white cotton ankle sock and then as I watched her little nylon covered pinkies she pushed her thumb into the elastic cuff at the top of her tan nylon knee-hi sock and drew the garment from her delicate toes. She possessed small beautifully formed feet with gleaming crimson red toenails, the arch was high and she had that endearing sculptural curiosity of having the longest toe second, a gold toe ring was wrapped around it halfway along its length. Sophia stretched the tan nylon sock between both hands and twanged the toe a couple of times through the air.
“Ooh! a bit fusty, a bit of dandruff too,” she joked over the cloud of skin cells that scintillated in a stray ray of sunshine.
I’d just caught a lung full of her foot dust and coughed and in a sarcastic manner I said,
“Thanks for that.”
“Anytime,” she responded and giggled.
“Too right, one way or another that won’t be the last time that I get to eat some of you, you filthy little toe tease,” I thought as I shared her amusement.
The third time she pinged the knee-hi nylon the air was clear and she drew the sock up her right arm.
“If I was mounting my naughty horsey saddled up in my pink knickers I’d lay my warm tits on your big broad shoulders and reach inside your gusset and squeeze your balls with my delicate nylon fingers. Then I’d whisper in your ear and ask you if you were ready for your nylon nosebag. I can read you like a lingerie catalogue,” Sophia mused to herself.
Having made quite a show of the nylon toe mesh stretched taught between her extended fingers she introduced her hand into the empty paint canlı kaçak bahis kettle and using her left hand pulled the nylon cuff over the rim of the kettle and after some tugging and stretching she presented me with a little drum. The skin of the drum had the tan reinforced nylon toe of the sock slap bang in the middle.
“Henry the horse is hoarse of course and is looking for a chance to sniff it,” Sophia thought and said to me, “I always get the ones with the tightly woven reinforced toe, finer mesh for a finer finish.”
She replaced her white cotton ankle sock and her pink croc. She was looking at my crotch and noticing that my cock was camping when she looked me in the eyes and asked me,
“Have you got a stick to stir it with Hen?”
I just shook my head.
“I’ll go and get you one,” she said.
In her absence, I took the opportunity to stick my nose into the taught nylon drum skin and take a snort. The musty, earthy aroma was delightfully pungent and I was obliged to adjust my growing erection inside my trousers.
A stick soon came bouncing through the open door. I felt flushed. Her saucy performance had left me wishing that her delicate tan nylon encased fingers could be tightly wrapped around my eager throbbing, weeping shaft and most of all that one day she would insist that she strain my own eager gelatinous coating through the taught reinforced toe mesh of a soft soiled stinky nylon knee-hi. She would use her delicate sweaty nylon sock to give me a truly fine finish.
“That’s a good boy,” she might announce as my pulsing jism began to overwhelm the fine reinforced weave of her salty stocking toe. “Good boy, oh what a big dirty mess, oh gosh, oh my naughty nylon sniff toy,” I longed to hear her say to me. I’d imagine her putting the saucy soggy, slimy nylon sock back on her foot whilst declaring, “There’s nothing so delightfully depraved as toe treading the warm, freshly rendered ejaculate of a naughty panty pilfering, sniffing foot-boy. Anyway, you’ll never get pussy, you’re only worthy to worship my feet.”
I managed to coax the paint through the stretched drum skin with the motion of a paint brush and in a little while I had a sufficient quantity of perfect paint for coating the front door.
“That did the trick,” said Sophia when she returned after some time to see how I had progressed. “I’ve got a load of them but they’re on another job, I’ll bring them in, shall I?” she inquired.
The question amounted to asking if she should bring a soft girly bundle of her used hosiery for our convenience. Stuff that was well acquainted with her aura, weave that had collected her irresistible exudates.
“Sounds like a good idea,” I said. I had a load to bring too, a load of hot creamy jizz that she could cause me to spurt into the toes of any of those naughty nylons if she had the mind.
That night when I went to bed I put on a pair of silky pink bikini panties from my own collection and a pair of precious black pantyhose I had purloined by chance from my sexy neighbour next door. I was in a pantyhose threesome with Sophia and my sexy neighbour and they edged me relentlessly before they began to hoot loudly in triumph as they delivered my simmering ejaculate into my pantyhose. Or so I was thinking as my back arched and I audibly gasped as I shot my lot.
“What would tomorrow bring?” I wondered.
(To be continued)
Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00353 515 73 20