When I got with this particular girl that I am talking about in this story, I knew she was different. She was confident, she loved sex and she fucking loved being kinky. I had never been with someone who loved it as much as she did, she loved being tied up, spanked, fucked, made to cum and she even blew me whilst my parents were in the room.
i love fucking my girlfriend in her stockings
She was always so horny and loved dressing up for me but one of my biggest kinks that she also loved was dressing up in stockings, pantyhose and lingerie. It turned me on so much seeing her in them and she loved it too, some of our best sex was when she was in sexy pantyhose.
Steve: JUST FANTASTIC! I am a big fan of Mandy. She has the dirtiest mind and she knows how to play with clothes. She is my absolute dream!Martin: Are you kidding me? Pretty darn close to a fantasy of mine. A Babe like Barbara has a pair of either RHT or Ultra sheer FF's of 100% nylons. A little foot tease at first then a slow strip offGreg: Great! I can't get enough of Victoria! She is SO BEAUTIFUL!Sergei: Loved it superb satin panties and liked the between thighs shotsMark: I loved your site superb site I'm enjoyed by my subscription.Robert: OH WOOOOOOOOOOW ... Carol is AMAZING! Please keep the scenes coming!!!Harry: Girl on girl, shoes off, stockings on - perfect!!Joel: Beautiful redheaded Kattie is my fantasy dream girl!!! In this sexy video, she puts pantyhose atop nylons with a detached garter belt and super hot pink panties!!! Amazing sexy sexy upskirt!! I have at last found my woman!Derek: Yeah, my favorite B-) These girls are so crazy sexy..and I love pee from so beautiful women
I am totally straight and married and love to wear ladies undies!! If my wife says put stuff on I'll do it in a second!! I'm sure you'll find someone who loves it, there are more of us around than you think!! Count how many people are on your bus on the way to work. At least one of those guys will be wearing pantys or tights & stockings!!
I appreciate your comments about men's underwear. I need to be frank and maybe this is the best way to do it. At first I thought I was ill by wanting to wear women's panties. I have from time to time since I was about 10. I never told anyone. In the recent past I found myself desiring to wear panties and bras. I lOved how they felt abd I lOved how they made me feel so sexy. I am heyerosexul and am married. I have found that more and more I wear panties and bras with the hope of some firm of discovery. For example, I am a road bicyclist. I wear by nature in the sport very tight fitting jerseys and shorts. Women in their outfits like mine look so sexy. Looking at the bodies and watching their breasts as they ride is exhilarating. I decided one day as I was passing Victoria's Secret to go in and talk to a sales rep. She was lovely and gave me confidence to ask her if she would helP me pick out some panties and bras for me with breast forms. She did not even blink. I was both surprised and relieved. She stayed with me about and hour and was gentle and sweet. She helped adjust the bras when I came out from the dressing room. And showed me how to place the small breast firms in. She treated me like a girl. I was thrilled. She asked if I was ready to go public. I stared at her and nervous. She went on to explain. If I was strong enough to risk asking her for help I should be strong enough not ti care what people may think. I smiled at her and asked her to chose which panties and what bra to wear out of there. She picked Avery cute ruffled thong in soft pink and a matching bra (36A). I flashed in front of her by opening the dressing room door momentarily. When I came out dressed with men's clothing on the outside but with prominent breasts showing, she smiled and affirmed I looked very nice and not to worry. I paid for the items (worth the money) and walked out nervously. I walked through the mall hoping for looks. By in large it was unusual as I got very few looks. I did pass some high school girls and they did see my breast outline and giggled. One man noticed. But no real unusual reactions. So I decided to up the experience. The next day I put on my bra and enhancements and slid on my jersey (no panties, no way you should ride a bike with shorts and panties. To hard on the male members) and rode off. I looked at my breast. I already have nice shaped little boobies. I looked great and felt sexy. I went to several gas stop and shops and walked in to get water or a snack and stopped and talked to several women. I know they could see my feminine features. But no reaction to the negative. One even kept starring. Another asked me how old I was and that I looked very fit. She even placed her hand on my chest briefly as she walked away. Now I know she had to have figured it all out. But I left unsettled. What was I looking for. So tomorrow I plan to be even more open. I have a pair of size B enhancements and will go into public with them.I love wearing panties and bras only. I did see some warm stockings that have spandex and cotton in then I may wear thus winter to the gym to stay warm. But other than that I don't wish to wear wardrobes or makeup. I prefer to remain a guy who loves women's panties and bras. I feel so good in them and for right now I look sexy in them.Thanks for listening. My posted nickname is just that a nickname.
"Where?" She lit a cigarette. "Well, that's all going to change, Grace." "Yeah, sure," she snorted. "I get it. OK. I don't mind school. I'll go back home and promise I'll attend regularly." "There is no going back, Grace." "What do you mean?" Alex glanced hard at me. "I'm not living with you." "Uh-huh." Grace looked at Alex. "The three of us?" Alex nodded her head. "You mean I am going to school around here?" "No," I answered. "We're leaving for Maine." "Maine!" "Tomorrow." "To do fucking what?" "Live," Alex said softly. "In Maine?" Grace jumped up from the table and grabbed her coat. "You think you're taking me away from my friends to live in Maine?" "What are they going to do, Grace? Ambush folks in Maine-up there they'll blow your head off." Grace started to laugh maniacally and pace. "This is all a joke." She glared at Alex, who entered our bedroom to return with the suitcases. "It's beautiful up there this time of year, Grace. It'll do you good, do us all good to get the city out of our systems. It's poisoned us. We'll stop at your house on the way north to pick up warm clothes." Grace had it in her mind this would all pass. Over the period of separation when any crisis among the siblings would erupt, Beth and I'd get together to formulate some grandiose, well-intentioned plan to smooth things out. We'd set the girls down, explaining how we'd spent hours of soul-searching. How good it was going to be from there on out. The children would dutifully listen-and we all felt better. Like having been released from a prolix church service. Outside the vestibule, the sun illumining the pastor who wishes every parishioner a bountiful week, while inside the organ lobs hosannas against the empty chapel's walls. Cleansed. But in a very short period these plans invariably withered. The animus between Beth and me remained unchanged. Grace and her sisters still had to navigate our selfish needs, which by this time they were all adept at. In her mind, surely it was, "Fuck Maine. So we go up there for a few days. He'll have a change of heart. Mother will call, insisting I return home. Get to a phone and call Ralph. It's cool." When we stopped to pick up Grace's clothes, her luggage sat packed on the porch. Beth didn't even appear in the window. Alex and I had rented a house in rural Maine several months earlier. Once a summer residence for a Boston Brahmin, after years of being unoccupied it had fallen into a state of disrepair. In exchange for my carpentry services, his out-of-state relatives cut our rent substantially. Located a mile in on a camp road along the mountainous back side of a lake with one shuttered summer cottage along the way-it couldn't have felt more remote this early November. We arrived at two in the morning. The moon silvered the lake's icy surface whose far side abutted a one-general-store town. Grace had slept most of the way, resigned to wait Alex and me out by responding indifferently to anything we uttered. "It's serene here in the summer, Grace." We walked past the boathouse toward the main residence, or "Mountain Lodge" as the local people knew it. "There's a vintage Chris-Craft motorboat lying in a slip inside there, all mahogany and appointed with chromium spotlights. A real beauty you can run the lake at night with." She climbed the steps ahead of me. At the entryway I inserted the key. "You're going to love this place. It has a winter and summer quarters. Twelve rooms. Your choice. The bedrooms facing the water are the loveliest." The house had been shut tight for three months-the air inside stale and bone chilling. Fusty air always penetrates the body deeper than cold, outside air, no matter what the temperature. I immediately set to throwing sticks into the kitchen's wood stove, then lit the console Atlantic wood burner in the winter living quarters. Upstairs the Lodge was heated by warm air rising through filigreed cast-iron registers inset in the downstairs' ceiling. I activated the pump which began drawing water up from the lake. Soon Alex brewed coffee. We listened to Grace's spike heels drumming the hardwood floors, wandering in and out of the upstairs' chambers. They stopped over the kitchen, the darkest room in the Lodge. It looked out upon a ledge less than six feet from the back of the house that rose vertically for another 150 feet. The "cottage" had been built on a shelf blasted out of the granite rise in the thirties by the merchant who'd amassed his wealth acquiring wool from Northeast sheep farmers, then selling it to the government for World War I uniforms. Grace's bedroom furniture had all been painted cottage-white: a spool bed, a dresser with an oversized rococo mirror and an arrow-back kitchen chair that sat in the corner. The walls had been freshly painted robin's-egg blue. Tuesday morning, once we'd taken the chill off the downstairs, I hollered up for Grace to join us at breakfast. She refused. When I knocked on her door, and she didn't respond, I opened it to find her lying under several blankets in the bed, motionless. "I'm not hungry," she said. It became her refrain for lunch and dinner. Wednesday, a repeat of Tuesday. By Thursday morning, Alex had begun to express concern. "She's going to starve herself, Lee. It's how she's going to beat you." "I don't give up easily," I said. "You don't understand the will of young women." "I'm every bit as strong and determined as she is." "Suppose she continues to refuse food?" "When she gets hungry enough-she'll give in." "After a couple of days . . . the pangs of hunger lessen." "She's got to come downstairs to drink." "Already beat you on that." "What do you mean?" "She's cupping snow off the window sills." 2ff7e9595c
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