by Ella Ford
Miss Winters completed her inspection and I sensed her pull back from Samantha. The girl beside me relaxed and I felt her upper arm come to rest against mine. Then I heard the soft clicking of my boss’s heels on the wooden floor as she stepped back around us once more.
This time, she stood directly in front of us, stopping inches from our faces so that I found myself staring at her thigh. Then she squatted down and reached forward, taking the pantyhose gags from our mouths. Both Samantha and I breathed deeply, sucking the air into our lungs. Miss Winters smiled at us, her eyes flicking between our faces.
“Kiss for me,” she said matter of factly, and then stood up straight and stepped back to the sofa. “Keep your arms behind you.”
I blinked at the sudden order, unsure about what to do next. I’d never kissed a girl, despite going down on Miss Winters during my review meeting. Somehow, the act of kissing seemed more intimate, more cherished even than licking a woman’s pussy. Yet I felt compelled to obey and twisted my body to face Samantha. The other girl looked similarly reluctant as she turned towards me. Our eyes met properly for the first time and I gazed into those deep wells of perfect blue. She lowered her head slightly and blushed a subtle red, the corners of her mouth raising in a shy smile. I felt my pulse quicken, and suddenly wanted her with all my heart, to kiss her wet lips, to taste her tongue on mine.
I leaned forwards, still remaining on my knees with my arms behind my back and brought our mouths together. We touched, a brush of skin so light and tender that it was almost sensed rather than felt. I gasped as a sudden jolt of electricity flashed through my body. The sensation was exquisite; soft and warm and wet. I leaned forwards, hungry for more and found Samantha reciprocating. The other girl parted her mouth and pushed her lips against mine, then her tongue darted forwards and met my own. Hungrily, we licked at each other, our tongues rolling together.
Inside me, a war of instincts raged. I wanted more than anything else to wrap my arms around this beautiful girl, to hold her in my embrace and feel the soft warmth of her body against mine. Yet this desire conflicted with another, one that was subtle and difficult to identify. The need to obey, to follow the orders of my insatiable boss to the letter. The latter instinct won out, and my hands remained behind my back.
The kiss continued, deep and passionate. Our wet mouths danced together, eager for as much as the other as possible. I savored it, relishing the way our lips slid against each other, the way her breath tasted minty and fresh in my mouth, the sticky wetness of her lip gloss. It was unfathomably pleasant and I wanted it never to end.
“Stop,” came a sudden shout. “Kneel back,” continued Miss Winters, and both Samantha and I fell apart, breathing heavily and stealing coquettish glances at each other. We sat back, returning to our submissive kneeling positions and I realized, for the first time, that my pussy was dripping wet and the crotch of my pantyhose was damp and warm.
“Okay, what next?” purred Miss Winters. She eyed us both, a greedy glint in her eyes, then sat back in the sofa, stretching her legs out towards us. “Worship my feet,” she whispered.
To my right, Samantha moved without hesitation, falling forward onto all fours and crawling towards our boss. Kinky bitch, I thought, admiring the view of her nylon covered ass as she crawled away from me. Then I joined her, crawling forwards, not wishing to be seen as the weaker of Miss Winters’ assistants.
Like perfect mirror images, Samantha and I took a leg each and raised them before us. I glanced at the other girl and found her gazing lovingly at Miss Winters’ foot, lightly stroking her fingertips across the soft pantyhose of her lower leg. I turned back to the foot that I held and did the same, drawing my nails over the delicate nylon covered flesh, relishing the way that Miss Winters’ breathing changed as we both lavished our attention on her. My fingers reached the delicate strap of her heel and I began to unfasten the fiddly buckle. At first, it wouldn’t cooperate, the strap was small and my fingers were trembling with arousal and nervousness. I looked around and saw Samantha fighting the same battle and relaxed a little, relieved that it wasn’t just me.
“Take it slowly girls, we have all day,” drawled Miss Winters, and I’m sure that I detected a note of amusement in her voice.
Eventually, the strap came loose and I slid the nude colored heel off her foot. Beside me, Samantha did the same and we both held Miss Winters’ stockinged feet before us. I stared at it, transfixed by her wiggling toes and the softness of her sole. With a single finger, I dragged a painted nail up from her heel to the tips of her toes and she squealed out loud, pulling her foot away from me. I held her fast, wrapping my hand around her ankle and pulled her towards my mouth. Then I lightly kissed her big toe, staring at her and studying her reaction.
Miss Winters had sunk back into the soft cushions and was sucking on her index finger. Her eyes were flicking between her feet, unable to settle on either Samantha or me for more than a few seconds. She was like a child in a candy store, greedy and eager and desperate for more. This thrilled me, the idea that I was giving pleasure to this compelling woman through such a simple act. But even more, the closeness of her, the sensation of her foot in my mouth, the maddeningly overwhelming taste of her, all combined to provoke my own desires. I felt a warm presence gather in my pussy, pulsing waves of intense enjoyment rippling out along my legs and my arms.
I pushed forwards, desperate for more, sucking down on her toes and lapping at her sole with my hungry tongue. Beside me, Samantha was lost in her own private world. I glanced around and saw the pretty blonde frantically kissing and licking Miss Winters’ other foot, nibbling the arch gently then returning to take her toes between her lips.
For endless minutes we worshipped her, soaking her pantyhose with our saliva until the delicate material was dark and wet. Then, as one, we both shifted, lifting her feet above us and kissing our way down the backs of her legs. Miss Winters moaned loudly as our intent became clear, and parted her legs. I gazed downwards, hungry for my first view of her pretty pussy.
I gasped as I realized that she was wearing crotchless pantyhose. The dainty hosiery stretched to her waist, but was open between her legs, a frilled void that spanned her pussy and ass, exposing that sweet geography to us both. As I licked and kissed at her calf, Miss Winters laid a slender hand on her sex and parted her lips with her index and middle fingers, revealing the pink wetness within.
I heard Samantha gasp beside me and sensed the other girl pick up her pace, slithering her tongue down Miss Winters’ long leg as she made for the prize. With a sense of urgency, I began to move faster myself, desperate for the sweet taste of my boss’s pussy but keen to not neglect my duties.
Suddenly, Miss Winters pulled away from us and wrapped her arms behind her knees, pulling her legs back around her head. “Girls, girls, slow down,” she breathed, “there’s plenty for everyone.”
I gasped as I looked down, seeing what she meant. Between her raised legs, I caught a glimpse of her pink pussy and her asshole, gaping before us, beckoning us forwards. I shifted forwards, sliding up onto the sofa beside Miss Winters. Holding my hair up, I leaned forwards until my mouth was inches from her pussy hole, then I breath deeply, taking in the cloying scent of her desire. At the same time, Samantha shuffled into position on the floor, lowering her head and placing her hands on each of Miss Winters’ ass cheeks. Then she spread them apart and plunged her tongue forwards, a look of eager desire on her face.
As Samantha began work on our boss’s asshole, I wasted no more time and locked my mouth on her pussy, drawing her labia into my mouth and sucking hungrily.
Miss Winters screamed out, unable to control herself as her obedient assistants fucked her holes with their tongues. I flicked my eyes upwards, and studied her face, locked in the rapture of ecstasy. Her eyes were squeezed tightly shut and her mouth was open, panting and moaning with every eager touch. As I watched, her hands began to roam over her body, dipping under her blouse to caress her stomach and roughly kneading
her breasts. Then I turned my attention back to her delicious pussy and pressed my tongue on the throbbing bulge of her clitoris. She writhed beneath me, pushing her hips up into my face, unable to escape the attention of my mouth.
To my right, Samantha’s face was buried in Miss Winters’ ass, stabbing at her hole with her tongue, soaking it with her mouth. We briefly made eye contact as her head bobbed up and down, and I saw in her eyes such an intense look of enjoyment that it made my pussy surge, thrilled by the obvious arousal of the other girl. I felt a delicious warmth spread through my body, causing my arms and legs to tingle. The wave of pleasure pushed me forward, driving my tongue to new depths in her pussy, pulling her lips into my mouth and sucking harder than ever.
I sensed Miss Winters’ breathing begin to change. Short, sharp gasps that came quicker and faster with every passing second. I doubled down, swirling my tongue in tight spirals on her clit, pressing down harder until she screamed out, begging us to stop. “Oh shit, oh fuck! Oh god!” she cried out, not remotely concerned who heard her now. At the back of my mind, I began to wonder if the security guard ever did an inspection tour, but found that I didn’t really care. All that mattered to me now was the taste of Miss Winters and her endless pleasure.
Suddenly, her spine arched upwards. She pushed her head back and opened her mouth as if to scream, but no sound came out. She reached down and grabbed my hair, pulling my head back off her pussy. Her feet fell down and she pushed them onto Samantha’s back. Her entire body shook and writhed, arms and legs shaking uncontrollably as the orgasm raged through her. “Ahhhh,” she moaned, her voice becoming increasingly high pitched and frantic. I gazed at her, captivated by the sight of another woman’s moment of perfect pleasure, wanting nothing more than to join my own cries of joy to hers.
Then she fell silent and her body went limp. Her hand fell from my hair releasing me to slide off the couch to the floor beside Samantha. Her long legs stretched out between us and she panted heavily, as though she’d just sprinted a mile.
Unsure what to do next, we both kneeled before her, peering at her doe-like, awaiting her next instruction. In time, it came. With a voice that was barely a whisper, she breathed her intent. “Each… each other,” she spoke.
Without needing to be told a second time, I turned to Samantha and found her doing the same. For an eternity of seconds, we studied each other, both stalking our prey like hunting tigers. Then we pounced, setting upon each other with a furious intensity that was driven by insatiable lust. My hands clawed at her body, grabbing her breasts, her hair, her face. Our mouths met and we kissed, pressing our lips together with a passion that was difficult to describe. I felt her breasts push against mine, the taut nubs of her nipples brushing against my own and causing shards of electric energy to rush down my spine and inflame my pussy once more.
As our bodies writhed together, our excitement grew. Our clinch became more of a grapple than an embrace, a frantic battle for fulfillment where there would be no loser.
Then, with a strength that surprised even me, I grabbed her shoulders and pushed her down to the ground, laying her on her back and pinning her in place with my hands. Then I swung my leg over her head and kneeled over her face, propelled forward by instinct alone, never stopping to think or consider what I was doing.
She sensed what I wanted, and wrapped her arms around my thighs, urging me downwards, forcing me to smother her. “W-wait, w-wait,” I stammered, realizing what I needed to do. I reached down to my pussy and tore at my pantyhose, ripping the thin material and clawing at it until the hole was wide enough to gain access. Then with a sigh of pure relief, I lowered my hips down onto Samantha’s waiting tongue and felt her plunge into me.
Oh god! It felt amazing! Far better than I could have ever imagined! It was like no sex I’d ever had before. Oral sex with a guy was okay, if you found one who was even willing to do it, but not like this. Not like squatting over a naked girl and forcing yourself down onto her face. My mind exploded with the sensations that were erupting from my clit and pussy hole. I felt close to blacking out, close to losing my tenuous grip on this reality. But I regained myself, and remembered where I was.
Without further thought, I fell forward, laying my body on Samantha’s, feeling the soft warmth of her stomach on my breasts. I snaked my arms around her thighs and plunged my fingers into the crotch of her pantyhose, ripping it apart with the same animal intensity that I’d ripped mine. Then I dropped my head down, burying my face in her sweet pussy. My tongue darted out and found purchase, greedily lapping across the length of her labia.
She reacted instantly, tensing her body and tightening her grip on my thighs, locking her mouth against my pussy and causing a renewed surge of pleasure to course through me.
We became a single entity, locked in an endless loop of ecstasy, each of us fueling the other’s desire and driving ourselves wild with mutual arousal. But it was more than this, more than the simple mechanical motion of our tongues on our pussies. Our bond was deeper than that. We were fuck toys, twin possessions of a powerful mistress. Her pleasure was our pleasure, and vice versa, we both lived to serve her. The thought thrilled me, as I’m sure it did Samantha, and it propelled me to new heights of enjoyment.
Slowly, surely, I felt a growing presence inside myself. A looming need for release, and the means to bring it. I did not try to push it back, did not try to resist it. Instead, I surrendered my will to it, inviting it forward with the intolerable pleasure in my body. And, gradually, it took hold, starting in my pussy and radiating out in pulsing waves, spreading to my stomach, my arms, my legs, priming my body for the explosion that was coming.
Then, without warning, the fire ignited and flashed through me. I lifted my head from Samantha’s pussy, and strained my neck as I struggled to contain the rampant energy within me. Dimly, from some other place, I felt a tight discomfort on my thighs as Samantha tightened her grip, and I realized that she too was reaching her own climax.
Our single body shock as the intense forces that had gathered raged within us. I felt Samantha’s pantyhose covered legs twitch and writhe, and I gripped them tightly - holding her in place or anchoring me down, I’m not sure which. Yet onwards I rode, surfing the endless wave of pleasure, not sure where it would take me.
From far away, I had a keening moan, and then another, rising together in a harmonious chorus of desire. Dimly, I realized that it was my voice, joined in song by my sapphic sister, screaming out our mutual lust.
And then, as one, we both fell silent. The raging energy left us and we collapsed into each other, ruined and exhausted, a discarded pile of spent bodies. We lay together, arms and legs entwined, panting and gasping for precious air, each of us unwilling to let the other free of our sordid clinch.
From far away, the barely remembered voice of Miss Winters. “Holy shit, I love pantyhose!”
THE END, FOR NOW
Nerd Girls Like Pantyhose Too
by Ella Ford
Prologue: The club
The entrance corridor stretches before me; a dimly lit hall, burgundy and plush with expensive trappings. It ends in a thick velvet curtain, ten feet in front of me, and I drift towards that welcoming opening without even moving my body.
After a moment of disorientation, the recognition of my surroundings washes over me in a comforting wave. The location is familiar, the subject of my nighttime dreams since I was a young girl. I glance down, as I always do, and study my body with disconnected interest. My familiar curves and slender limbs are clad in a slinky dress that hugs my figure and falls to my ankles like a shimmering waterfall. I feel demure and refined, a state that feels unfamiliar and unexpected.
I look up as I pass through the velvet curtain, which parts as I approach, sliding aside to welcome me to my destination. At once, I am engulfed by the low hum of the club’s interior; the chattering and giggling of many female voices, a restrained gathering in full swing. I look around and find myself in a larger space, tastefully lit wit
h leather furniture and rich, mahogany surfaces. There’s a bar to my left, ornate with brass fittings and plush stools and generously attended by small groups of women.
Around the room are numerous booths and freestanding tables, with countless candles casting their flickering light to make the shadows dance on the walls of the place.
The bar’s patrons are all female, young and attractive, sipping extravagant drinks and giggling at shared jokes or flirtatious suggestions. I know, instinctively, that I should feel trapped and awkward, out of place in this social situation, but I don’t. Instead, I feel at home, relaxed and at ease. I know this place, it doesn’t scare me.
Suddenly, I blink and the room shifts, swimming out of focus and then returning to sharp relief. I realize that there is something else about the room, something strange and unusual. I question why I never noticed it before, but find myself calmed by the familiarity of this new component.
On every wall and surface of the room there are pairs of small velvet-lined holes, about six inches in diameter. And from each of these holes emerges a woman’s leg, clad in the soft nylon of sheer pantyhose. The velvet lining of the holes hugs the women’s thighs, preventing me from seeing behind the walls or under the tables for a glimpse of who the disembodied limbs belong to.
I scan the room again, studying the groups of partygoers once more. This time, I notice that the women are no longer holding drinks in their hands. Instead, every group has gathered around the limbs protruding through the walls and tables, and each woman has hold of one of the legs, gripping it by the ankle, slender fingers wrapped around the smooth pantyhose clad skin. I lock my gaze on a pair of girls, a pretty brunette in a shimmering white dress and leggy blonde in a black mini-dress, standing together by the far wall. As I watch, the brunette lifts the leg she is holding to her mouth and wraps her painted lips around the wiggling toes. Her eyes close and she sucks up and down, pulling at the thin, nylon gauze and soaking it with her saliva. The blonde doesn’t look away or stop talking, continuing her story as though this was the most normal thing in the world.