stockings

Astrid you’re late as usual and whilst you looked fresh and alluring that morning, the trials and tribulations of the office have taken there toll. Still, you looked rather attractive in your city outfit of white blouse, perhaps a little too tight and pencil skirt, just about the right length above the knee by about 3 inches. You’re wearing stockings underneath and high heels which at a guess are about 3.5 inches. Rather gorgeous I think as you sashay towards me and our first clandestine meeting. We exchange a friendly kiss, cheek to cheek and I usher you into a nearby restaurant. Small and quaint it’s European in style with waiters from who knows where although I do notice that they notice you sliding into the bench seat: did you’re skirt ride up a little in the process, I wonder. I’m sure I saw the extra darkness of the stocking top and I wondered what was beyond. We talked and laughed, and seemed to get on well, perhaps too well but I thought I’d see and placed my left hand on your right knee. There was no resistance as it edged slightly up the inner thigh. Quite the contrary, you were leaning forward as if to encourage me further and a easy smile was playing across your full lips as your pupils dilated and I felt the creamy white coolness above the stocking top but below the v made by your flat stomach.. I was feeling aroused myself by this point but was determined to take it easy and not rush things, there would be time enough so gently brushing the gusset of your lacy panties, I poured you another drink and wondered whether you had trimmed down there, it felt as if you had.

stockings