The Power of Clothing Pt. 06
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Ok, now onto what are undoubtedly one of the biggest clothing turn-ons of all — stockings; and that counts for women as well as men.
Sammi is Amanda and Kevin’s daughter. Amanda is Kevin’s second wife. Gareth is Kevin’s son by his first marriage.
It’s not essential, but is preferable to read this series of tales on clothing and sex in the order I wrote them.
Samantha, or Sammi as she insisted everyone other than her mother call her, didn’t lose her virginity until she was well into her nineteenth year. By her twenty-first birthday she had only had two lovers, both at university. Before she was twenty-three, she needed her toes as well as her ten fingers to count the men she had slept with.
“Oh my, you sexy little thing,” he said as he slid his hand up Sammi’s skirt.
“Wearing stockings aren’t you,” he said pulling her long skirt to one side where the slit was up one side.
She felt good hearing him say that and even better seeing the look of desire and admiration on his face as he looked at the lacy tops of Sammi’s stocking on her left leg. He couldn’t see any more for the skirt was still covering her thong covered mound and her other leg.
They were at Sammi’s family and family friends twenty-first birthday party. She had already had her party for her close, young friends at a nearby restaurant and the one with the girls was arranged for later in the month at a club in London. This one was in a marquee attached to the large family house and was attended by family and friends who, in the main were much older than her. She hadn’t really wanted it, but her parents had insisted. As they had insisted on it being a posh, black tie and long gown do, ‘fucking snobs’ she often thought.
It was around two in the morning and the party was starting to wind down. Many of the older people had left, but the disco was still going and people were dancing and standing around drinking. Sammi had been dancing with Gareth, a friend of her brother. He was in investment banking, some sort of derivatives trader and earned, so the story went, around a million a year. He was in his early thirties, handsome, quick-witted, a bit of a bastard with women, a heavy drinker and drug taker and he was Sammi’s half brother, they shared Kevin as a father.
After dancing for some time they had strolled out of the marquee into the large garden. It was dark, but nice and warm, although everywhere was damp from the earlier downpour. From visiting with Sammi’s real brother, a corporate lawyer, before he bought a flat in Notting Hill, Gareth knew the house and gardens quite well. He also knew his half sister, his best friend’s full sister quite well and had always fancied her as, Sammi had to admit, she did him. She had, therefore, been flattered and quite excited at the attention Gareth had shown to her.
Sammi didn’t have now, and never really had had a regular boy friend. She had lost her virginity shortly after going to university to an almost total stranger. She met him at a very boozy and druggy party where the third and fourth year students welcomed the newcomers like her, or so they were told. In fact, it wasn’t really an opportunity for the older students to welcome the younger ones, it was them creating the opportunity to fuck the new girls, and that had worked with her. Not at the party, but less than a week later
She did well at uni and by the start of her third year she was set to get a 2:1 degree in English. She hadn’t done so well with men, though. After the brief fling with her virginity taker, they had been on a few dates, but they didn’t seem to work well. Yes, she snogged a few other guys and, of course one or two got their hands on her tits or up her skirt, well not literally for Sammi, like most of the female students almost never wore them, instead preferring jeans. A couple of guys had undressed her to her bra and panties and one or two had made her cum with their fingers as she had them with her hand, but until just before Christmas in her third year she still hadn’t ‘gone all the way’ again.
Carl was a post graduate and she fell for him. He was well off and had his own flat nearby where Sammi got herself shagged two or three times a week. Regular sex with an older attractive guy fancied by most of her friends, made her feel much better. It was also quite a relief for she was beginning to think there might be something wrong with her.
She readily admitted to herself and friends in chat rooms and other sites, to being bi-curious as the saying goes. She had never done anything with another girl, but had been propositioned a couple of times since being at uni: she didn’t, though, feel anything for the rather butch, cropped hair overweight uglies who made up the university’s lesbian fraternity.
However, as with many, probably most, university affairs, it began to end, amicably, with the onset of final exams and finished completely when Sammi came home. Neither of them had the will to try to make it work when shagging had the ataşehir escort bayan inconvenience of a hundred miles round trip.
Although, nothing serious had happened between Sammi and her half-brother, they had always been close, but they didn’t see each other very often. It was rather difficult for her mum, Amanda, Kevin’s second wife, to have too constant a reminder of the woman on whom Kevin had cheated with her. She felt terrible about that.
It was after Sammi’s eighteenth birthday party when Gareth was staying at their house that she and he first been intimate. She had cried in his arms as they kissed and he had undone her bra. She had sobbed more when they kissed more and he put his hand in her panties. And she had both sobbed and cried when he had made her cum and she had masturbated him. Between then and now they had met infrequently at family dos, but they had maintained an email contact in which they had discussed their incestuous relationship.
Knowing full well it would never go anywhere, other than Sammi, maybe becoming another conquest, Gareth didn’t give a fuck about that side of it. She had gorgeous, long blonde hair, a cute face, nice tits, a bit small, but a great arse and fabulous legs, that was all that mattered. ‘One day’, he would muse, particular after a line or two or a few smokes, thinking how clever he was at the rhyming, ‘She’ll make a great lay.’
It was different for Sammi and she agonised over the times she had any form of sex with him. She had to admit to herself, however, that there was some form of power or something directing her feelings towards him. She had never been promiscuous, he was the first boy to: remove her bra, suck her nipples and make her cum. He was the first boy she had wanked. Was she using him as trial runs, she often wondered or, was she in love with him? She had no real answers to such questions.
At her twenty first, Gareth first kissed her in a dark alleyway between the garage and the marquee. He first touched her tits when they were in the conservatory off the main dining room, which Sammi knew was locked from the inside so the only way in was the door they had just come through, which she had locked behind them.
They didn’t shag in the conservatory, although, he did play with her tits, get them out of her bra, put his hand up her skirt and he did find her secret, she was wearing self-support stockings. It was just after finding them, lifting her skirt up and looking at them when he said.
“Remind me of something Sammi.”
“I don’t seem to remember where your bedroom is?”
Surprised and, with her inexperience of such situation, a little shocked Sammi stammered.
“And why would you want to know that Gareth?”
“Because my lovely, little, sexy, stocking-wearing, minx of a sister I think I need to fuck you and I don’t think you would want me to do that here would you?”
Sammi had never owned a pair of stockings. She had never worn stockings and had never had the inclination to buy any. That is until she was shopping with her mum in Harvey Niks for her ball gown for her party.
She had tried on several dresses before deciding upon a deep blue, almost black, floor-length number.
“It sets off madam’s hair so beautifully,” the Sloany, plumb-voiced sales assistant said referring to Sammi’s almost natural long, shoulder-length, blonde hair.
Naturally, as youngsters’ posh frocks tend to be it was low cut. It had thin spaghetti straps and a plunging front that showed off just enough of her respectable B going on C cup boobs to be interesting, but not so much as to be crass or vulgar; something her mother would never condone. As she’d looked in the mirror she had thought for no reason at all, ‘A scoop them out easy’ job adding the extra thought of ‘Pity there’s no one to scoop them out.’
The dress was tight beneath her boobs, round her waist and over her pert bum and then flared out as it plunged down her, not as long as she wished they were, legs. It had what the assistant called, ‘erotically interesting’ slits up both sides, which ended over midway between her knees and hip bones.
“Yes I’ll have that,” Sammi said to the girl, as she looked at her mum. “Ok mum?” After all she was paying the six hundred quid for it.
“Yes dear, that will be fine.” She handed the girl her HN charge card saying. “Look I have to run, I’m meeting Marcia for lunch, so if you need anything else, any accessories just charge them to this.” Then she was gone.
“Is there anything else you need?” The assistant asked.
“I don’t know, such as?”
“Shoes, maybe a brooch or scarf, perhaps a shawl?”
“No I’m ok for those thanks.”
“Underwear to match?”
“That’s a good idea.”
Between them they chose a very dark blue, matching bra and panty set, more of a thong, well half-way between a thong and panties, all lacy and cutting right across the middle of her round, pert cheeks.
“Will you wear tights?”
“I usually do escort kadıöy and my legs aren’t tanned enough to go without.”
“How about stockings instead, they are very fashionable?”
“I’ve never worn them.”
“Why not try them,” the assistant, Pippa, said.
Pippa gave her a pair and said pop into the changing room, they are self-support.
Keeping her tee and vee-neck sweater on Sammi took her jeans off and slid the stockings up her legs. She thought they looked good and certainly they felt good. Standing looking in the mirror in her panties and the stockings, Sammi was surprised to hear a knock on the door. Pippa came in.
“Wow,” she said standing behind Sammi, maybe a little too close, and putting her hand on her shoulder, Pippa went on. “You look gorgeous,” as Sammi felt a squeeze on her shoulder and Pippa’s hip pressing against her bottom. “Do they feel good? Wearing them always makes me feel so sexy.”
Sammi gulped as she realised Pippa was making a move on her.
That had happened several times at uni and she had declined each time, she felt she had no interest in girls, but then realised, they had been real dykes at uni, not lipsticks, as she had read Pippa’s type were known.
She had to agree, though, that they felt good and did, indeed make her feel sexy. Not enough to make her respond to Pippa, who was indeed making a pass at the pretty young blonde, but she did think of her that night in bed when her hand crept between her legs.
Nobody had spoken to Sammi like that before. She had never been in quite such a position before and, certainly, she had never been with such an experienced man before; the rumours of Gareth’s conquests and lurid love life were legend among the girls in the London suburb where they both lived.
At first, she had been shocked and surprised when he had said about fucking her. Even at uni, few men used that phrase to a girl’s face. But after saying it, as he kissed her more, pinched her nipples and went on with. “Girls in stockings do it for me, so come on Sam, where’s the bedroom,” she started to feel more mature, wanted and, oddly, more feminine. ‘Amazing,’ she thought, ‘what your brother saying he wants to fuck you can do to a girl?’
That said, she knew she should resist. Gareth was a tart, really. This was purely sex on his part and she knew that was all he wanted. She guessed that he would ‘fuck her and forget her’ as the rumours said he had with so many others.
As it happened, she wasn’t quite right. True, he had slept with loads of girls, but then that’s part of the game, along with booze and drugs, with City boys. And true also that he didn’t want to go permanent with a girl. Sammi intrigued him, she appealed to his convoluted, licentious, wanton, no holds barred type of intellect; the type that can cope with taking enormous, financial risks at work, spending ten hours a day mainly screaming down a phone then going out boozing and dining with clients to the early hours and then doing it all over again the next day. Gareth rarely had more than six hours sleep a night and often had only three or four, and it was a rare, almost unknown night when he didn’t go to bed drunk, stoned or up to his eyeballs in coke or pills.
“We can’t,” she replied.
Although Sammi was usually highly articulate and quick with words, she was out of her depth in this situation. Lying in the arms of a sexually sophisticated older man with the top of her ball gown rolled down, her breasts out of her bra and the skirt pushed up round her waist so he could see and stroke the lacy tops of her stockings, was totally new territory to her and made it difficult for her logical mind to frame a reasonable argument against his suggestion that they should fuck. He had added, “Now you’re twenty one and no longer a teenager and little girl, but a grown woman,” which served to reduce her areas for verbal manoeuvre.
That he had previously undressed her, sucked her nipples and made her cum with his fingers, served to make it even moer difficult for her to think of a reason to say no. She didn’t know how to handle the situation or Gareth. She knew she should try to stop him; all of her mind and social conditioning told her that. Her body and her female needs, though, told her something completely different. She was torn and confused.
“Well it’s my party, someone will miss us.” She said, trying to find a way out, but really just digging a deeper hole.
“So you do want to then?” He asked, slipping his hand further up her skirt. “And it’s only being missed that’s the problem?” He went on using his stock dealing, telephone techniques on her as his hand brushed against her lacy thong, right between her legs.
That made Sammi’s body jerk. Gareth noticed that, it was part of the chase, he left his hand there, his fingers resting on her lace covered mound, softly pressing against it.
“Yes, no, stop it Gareth.”
“Stop what? This?” He asked pressing more firmly with his fingers.
“No, maltepe escort trying to get me to bed.”
“So you want me to continue with this do you?” He asked slipping his finger inside the elastic of her thong.
“No, oh shit.” Sammi stammered totally confused.
“Tell you what,” Gareth suggested.
“Go and have a walk round the marquee, get a few people some drinks and have a chat to Mandy and Kevin,” he said, mentioning Sammi’s mum and dad. “Tell me which one is your bedroom, I’ll wait for you there and then you come there. Ok?”
“Yes you can,” he said wiggling his fingers between her legs as he bent his head and kissed her nipple. Feeling absolutely no resistance from her, he sucked her nipple, pressed harder on her pussy lips and said.
“You know you want to really, don’t you?”
The feelings were so good. Sammi felt so good. She was so aroused and she had thought of this for so long, in a forbidden fruit sort of way.
“Don’t you?” He repeated.
She felt slightly pathetic, but very grown up when she heard herself whimpering. “Yes.”
It was easier to do than she had expected. The remaining guests had broken into several smaller groups and were all either, chatting away or, were dancing. She could see that she would not be missed.
Her heart pounding and her pulse racing, Sammi climbed the stairs, and walked down the short corridor that linked the main house to the extension over the garage, which was Sammi’s self-contained apartment, following the route she had described to her half-brother.
She opened the door, slid inside and shut it behind her. There were no lights on, but some of the lights from the garden were shining through the window creating areas of light and dark.
“Gareth,” she whispered, expecting him to be sitting in the lounge.
“In here,” he replied from the adjoining bedroom.
She walked into that room. The lighting was similar to the lounge, patches of semi-light and dark.
“You made it then,” she heard him say from the direction of the bed, which was in almost complete
“Yes, yes I did,” Sammi stammered, feeling hugely nervous.
“Good, any problems?”
“No, not really,” she whispered, adding rather tactlessly. “But we need to be quick,”
Gareth chuckled. “Ten minutes ago you didn’t want to do anything and now you want it quickly.”
Feeling a little hurt, she replied. “You know what you mean.
“Of course, I do, I was just joking babe. Come over here.”
She walked towards her bed. Her eyes now accustomed to the dark, Sammi was amazed to see that Gareth was in her bed, that his clothes were strewn across the floor, he was drinking from a bottle of champagne and that the sheets were turned down to his waist. She saw his reasonably, well-defined, quite hairy chest. As he saw her looking, he smiled, pulled the sheet tight across his body and ran his hand down the outside.
She gulped when she saw his hand stop, right on a large mound. He was as clearly erect as he was clearly well-endowed. She didn’t remember that from three years ago.
“Drink?” Gareth asked holding out the champagne bottle.
For some reason, the sheer decadence of the situation appealed to Sammi. She was a romantic at heart. The situation instantly reminded her of scene from the book Brideshead Revisited. Imagining herself as Julia Flyte, she took the bottle, raised it to her lips and took a deep swig, coughing and spluttering when Gareth reached out and cupped her breast.
You realise I am naked under here don’t you?” He asked completely unnecessarily.
“Yes,” Sammi whispered.
“And you can see what you have done to me can’t you?” He asked taking her hand and placing it on the sheet, right on his erection.
It felt lovely to both of them.
“Can’t you?” He repeated, moving her hand up and down its length.
That made Sammi feel even more aroused.
“Yes, Gareth,” she whispered, any last vestige of resistance that may have been lurking in her vanishing as he slid her hand inside the sheet and placed it right on his cock.
It was big, it was hot, it was hard, it was throbbing and it felt fucking wonderful, to Sammi. Her natural female instincts took over and she wrapped her fingers round it. Although highly inexperienced, for she had only held a couple or three different pricks, she seemed to know exactly what to do. She moved her hand in little pumping movements as slowly Gareth pulled the sheet back. They both looked at his big cock in her little hand.
“Nice?” He asked. Well she thought it was a question, but realised it may have been a statement. Whatever, she again whispered.
He had another swig from the champagne bottle and held it up for her.
“It’s your turn now Sammi?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, I’ve shown you mine, it’s your turn to show me yours.”
He put her hand back on his erection and said. “I want to see those sexy stockings. Undress for me Sammi.”
The combination of the champagne, the sheer decadence of the scene, the sensations from his cock and, she realised with a jolt, the mention of her stockings, got to her. It excited her, it made her lose her inhibitions and made her feel bold.
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