Skirts 1

Chapter 1

Skirts

What man hasn't at some time been stirred by just the sight of a skirt swirling around a pair of long, shapely legs? She me one and I'll show you a blind man! Let's be honest and admit it, a skirt, one that's neither too long, nor somewhat perversely, too ridiculously short, is one thing a woman with even reasonably good legs can wear and know that she'll arouse more than just the interest of most of the men who happen to see her walking by.

And the effectiveness can be created by a wide variety of types of skirt, though undoubtedly each man will have his own particular favourite. Some responding to tight-fitting, shape-hugging skirts, some to those that are made of multiple pleats, some to those slitted, at the back, side or front, some to those with a completely fly-away panel. But for me, and I'm sure many, many others, it's not so much the design that's important, it's the fabric. And the skirts that set my heart racing particularly fast are those made of soft, light, easily wind-blown material.

Just the thought of a glimpse of a good looking woman walking towards me in one of those, a light breeze catching and momentarily lifting the hem just that little bit higher, offering me the sight of just a little more leg, is more than enough to send my blood pressure soaring.

But, if I'm being absolutely honest, it's not just the sight of a great pair of legs beneath one of those skirts that really gets to me, though of course most of the time it has to be enough. No what really creates the full impact is the thought that goes with it, the thought of having my fingers slowly slipping up underneath that skirt, slipping up the full length of those beautiful, silky smooth legs.

I've spent many happy hours during the warmer months, usually around lunch-time in a busy area, one of the inner city parks or a side-walk café, just watching the passing parade and keeping my eyes peeled for any young woman wearing one of those skirts.

And I have lost count of how much time I have spent in quiet, somewhat philosophical thought during which I have tried to explain this attraction. After all, it's not as though women's legs aren't on show in many other ways, for instance when they wear shorts. But delightful though many a woman's bottom can be in a pair of tight fitting shorts; on the beach, during sport, and even on hot summer days when out shopping, at least for me, in shorts even a pair of really fine legs just doesn't have the same allure that a skirt adds.

Over the years I have at various times expressed my preference to many women friends, and a few have thought enough about me to do their best to please me by occasionally keeping my predilection in mind when choosing what to wear on a date. Others have taken my comments as either some sort of implied criticism of their sense of fashion, or a few, as a typical masculine attempt to keep women in their subservient place. But even those who were willing to sometimes at least humour me showed from what, when and how they wore one that they didn't truly appreciate the depth of feelings that were there to be tapped. That is all except one, Vanessa.

Chapter 2

Vanessa

We had been seeing each other for several weeks, doing the sorts of things people do during that early stage of a possible longer-term relationship; lunches or dinners, a couple of films, once to a theatre, and had shared both her and my bed several times. She was strikingly attractive, a tall brunette with liquidly brown eyes, an excellent figure, including a pair of quite spectacular legs, and had quickly proved to be a creatively enthusiastic lover. But, perhaps because until then the opportunity hadn't really arisen, or maybe because I subconsciously hoped that things between us might gradually get even more serious, at that stage I hadn't voiced or given any other hint of my special predilection.

But everything changed one fateful, and never to be forgotten Saturday. I forget now the exact reasons why we made the arrangement we did, I think she said she had some shopping to do, but we said we would meet for lunch at a place close by her apartment and then go on to an afternoon movie. I was running a bit early so rather than just sit and wait for her I went first to the movie complex to check on what was on offer before walking the rest of the way to the café. As luck would have it, and I thank heaven it did, Vanessa must have finished her shopping quicker than planned and had found she also had a little time to kill.

As I turned the final corner I saw her coming from the other direction and although she was still quite some way off and was wearing something I had never seen her in before I instantly knew it was her. Of course at that stage I didn't know if she was wearing the dress because it was the first really warm day we'd had that spring, or that it was something she had bought while shopping and had liked it so much she had chosen to wear it straight away. But I instantly loved it!

It was in what I think women call 'ice-cream' colours; light pastel shades of yellows, blues and dusky pinks that really showed off her permanently tanned looking olive skin. But it wasn't so much the colours that caught and held my attention, it was the style and even more especially the material. The top half was more than attractive enough to catch most men's gaze, its scoop neck and tailored fit showing off the size and shape of her beautiful breasts. But having registered all that my eyes automatically moved down, to see what was for me a truly fantastic skirt, hugging the line of her hips before flaring out into one that was full, and ended just a little above her knees. And what made it so absolutely perfect was that even from a fair distance I could tell from the way it gracefully moved that it must have been made from something resembling a fine, almost chiffon-like material.

The sight of her dressed like that made me stop in my tracks and then just stare, and the fact that she hadn't yet seen me, knew she was early and so was taking her time to stop every now and then to look in shop windows, gave me plenty in which to do so. As I watched her moving, pausing, then moving again the skirt slowly swirled around her legs, its lightness keeping it in motion for just a second or so after she had actually stopped. I admit I was spellbound, completely oblivious of the people brushing past me, only half-hearing the one or two uttering a soft curse because I was blocking their way, utterly entranced by the vision of her in that skirt.

But I wasn't so mesmerised that I didn't also react in what I guess was for me a completely predictable way, in just the one or two minutes I had before she happened to look up and spot me, I felt my cock responding to the feelings of arousal that just the sight of her had started. Then when she did look up and see me she smiled, but when she saw I was standing stock-still and just staring, the smile turned to a slightly puzzled frown. That change of expression was enough to suddenly bring me back to my senses and I mentally shook myself and moved towards her.

'You look absolutely stunning Vanessa!' I said when I reached her, then bent forward to kiss her cheek.

'You like it then?' she replied, stepping back to give me another look at her. 'I only just bought it, I couldn't resist, I simply had to wear it straight away.'

'It's fabulous, and you make it look it even more so.'

'When I first caught sight of you and saw that really odd look you had on your face, I wasn't sure.'

'I was blown away by how wonderful you look, that's all.' I said hurriedly, wanting to avoid having to get into complicated explanations right there on the street.

'Oh that's all right then.' she replied with a happy grin, then indicating the several bags in her hand, added. 'Now rather than take these things into the restaurant with us just come upstairs with me for a minute while I drop them off. O.K.?'

'Of course.' I said, then we turned and headed for the entrance to her apartment building.

As she lived on the first floor we never bothered to wait for the lift so I followed her up the two relatively short flights of stairs, and right then wished they had in fact been very, very much longer,

Whether consciously or not I let her get several steps ahead of me before following her, so as we went up my eyes were just about level with the hem of her skirt. Then I watched as the soft fabric swayed and swirled around her legs, my hands itching to reach forward beneath it and touch her. I felt both my heart beating faster and stronger as it pumped blood down to my groin, and my already partially aroused cock quickly lengthening and thickening. And although the climb was quite short the effect of what I was seeing and feeling was so strong that by the time she had opened the door and we went inside I could tell I already had a full-blown erection.

I had never before reacted so fast, or so powerfully, and the only explanation I have for what I did next was that it was the very speed and force of the effect of it on me that made me do what I did.

We had gone straight through to the lounge and she'd carried the bags across to put them down on the sofa on the far side of the room, then started sorting through their contents. 'I won't be a moment, my wallet's down here somewhere.' she said.

Of course as she bent forward to reach down into the bags the back of her skirt rose a little, and just that slight movement was enough to trigger an irresistible urge to do something, do anything that would improve my view. So, quite mindlessly I dropped down on one knee, changing the angle I was seeing her from and at the same time taking the opportunity to adjust my almost painfully cramped cock into a more comfortable position.

But of course just then she found what she'd been looking for, straightened up and turned round, to catch me in that position. 'What! Are you all right Frank?' she asked with a worried look on her face.

'Uh, yes, quite O.K. Your legs, they look even more fabulous than usual in that.' I stammered unthinkingly as I dropped the rest of the way to end up sitting on the floor.

'My legs, in this dress?' she said, obviously momentarily unsure as to whether she should enjoy the compliment, or be concerned by my strange behaviour. But her feminine susceptibility to flattery was the stronger and even as she spoke she reached for her skirt and lifted it a little as she looked down.

The compulsion I'd felt to reach forward and slip my hands under her skirt when we'd been coming up the stairs grew even stronger, became quite uncontrollable and as I shifted myself so I could lean back against a nearby arm-chair I heard myself muttering hoarsely. 'Come closer Vanessa, over here, please! Let me touch you.'

Of course I had no idea what was going through her mind, and she could obviously tell that something unusual was going on in mine, but she both trusted me enough and was sufficiently curious to find out what that was, so did as I'd asked.

As she came across to stand beside me time seemed to slow right down, as though I was watching a slow motion re-play. As she took the first step I saw the skirt drifting towards me, its edge lifting, exposing a little more flesh to my staring eyes. Then there was a slow swirl of settling fabric as her weight shifted forward, then another forward and upward drifting movement as her other leg followed. She needed at least half a dozen steps to cross the room and each one sent a surge of excitement through me, and although by then I ached to actually touch her, if I'd had some way to slow time even further, I would have used it.

Then she stood there, I glanced up to see her looking down at me, her facial expression still showing the same worried puzzlement, but the look in her eyes also hinting at some barely suppressed sense of anticipation as I lifted my hands and touched her.

Her bare skin was warm and smooth and I let my finger-tips trace small patterns on it as they slipped up and down over her calves and in and out of the indented area at the back of her knees. At first I half expected her to have second thoughts about what was happening and quickly draw away again and I mentally prepared myself for that moment of disappointment. But when she continued to stand still I nervously let my fingers slowly creep a little higher, edging somewhat hesitantly towards the hem-line of the skirt. And once she'd let me cross that boundary both my confidence and inner excitement went up several large notches.

Still keeping my fingers to those slow, feather-light movements I let them move more confidently higher, up beneath the skirt, thrilling as I felt the even warmer, and very much softer skin on her thighs. 'That's nice!' she said softly, barely breaking the tension-packed silence around us. Then, to my absolutely delighted amazement she lifted one leg, and swinging it up over mine, re-balanced herself astride them.

'Is this what you really wanted?' she asked in the same low voice.

'Yes, thank you.' I somehow managed to croakily answer.

'And it's better for me too.' she added as my hands began to roam more freely.

The situation was all my favourite fantasies come true, a truly stunning pair of legs, beneath what was for me the absolutely perfect skirt, and I was apparently being allowed to stroke and caress them to my heart's content.

Whether Vanessa just then somehow guessed what would make the situation even more exciting for me, or it was just that what I was doing was getting to her too, I didn't know, but after no more than a minute or so she began to slowly and gently sway her hips. Of course her skirt followed, its movements adding yet another layer of unreality to the dream-like scene I was experiencing.

I'm not sure how long we stayed like that, my hands drifting up and down beneath her swaying skirt, slipping over and around her thighs, and all the time gradually, almost imperceptibly inching just a little higher.

Then, just as she had before it was Vanessa who actually took things up to the next, perhaps by then inevitable level. At first, when she shifted her leg back to stand beside me again I thought she'd grown tired of pandering to my strange tastes, but then she reached up beneath her skirt and in what seemed like one swift movement, took off her panties. I had a brief glimpse of something flimsy and yellow as she tossed them aside then she swung her leg back over me, and moved forward until the hem of her skirt brushed my face.

'I'm all yours now Frank.' she said in a low, breathy whisper as my hands slipped back up her legs.

What she'd done to co-operate told me she was getting much more from what we were doing than just the satisfaction of pleasing me, and that encouraged me to take things even further than I'd initially imagined possible. 'Come a little closer then.' I said, one hand pressing against the backs of her knee, then the other lifting the hem of her skirt over my head as she did as I'd asked and moved forward.

Of course with my head actually up under her skirt I normally wouldn't have been able to see very much, but once again I had sheer luck on my side. Because the dress was made of such fine fabric and the sunshine was streaming in through the window behind her, although the light was diffused there was enough to see more than just the silhouetted outline of her body.

Although Vanessa had been blessed with a mass of luxuriantly thick, dark brown hair, unlike many other brunettes the rest of her body was virtually free of it, that is apart from the area around her pubis. But because she was so self-conscious about that she was fastidious in shaving herself and the first time we'd had sex I had been excitedly delighted to find that while her mound was covered with a small, dense but neatly trimmed mat, her pussy was totally hairless.

So even in that dim light I could clearly see the outline of the dark triangle of hair, its tip, like some blatantly erotic sign pointing down to where the core of her sex lay still hidden.

It may have been hidden from sight but there was nothing Vanessa could do about cloaking the other, and even stronger indicator of its presence, and not only its presence but also its condition. The moment I'd lifted her skirt I'd caught the first whiff of it, once I had it immediately above me the scent became even stronger, the unmistakable and headily powerful scent of her sexual arousal.

But doing my best to ignore the thoughts and urges that the combination of the image and the aroma conjured up, for the next minute or two I did no more than I had already done, slowly stroking her legs with my finger-tips, tracing increasingly complex patterns on her silky smooth skin, and lightly running them up and down the outsides of her thighs. However, her actions, what she'd said about her body being all mine and the knowledge that she was already physically excited from what I'd been doing gave me the confidence to progress and I soon began letting my hands roam even more freely. As well as continuing to caress the length of her thighs I occasionally let one move higher, slipping it up over the soft swell of her stomach, while the other moved around to stroke the taut, full swell of her bottom. And then instead of returning those back down the sides of her legs I slid them around to the warmer, even softer and much more sensitive skin on her inner thighs.

Although I'd been registering both Vanessa's occasional soft sighs and the light shivers that my caressing sent running up through her the moment I touched those parts her reactions grew much, much stronger. I could not only sense but feel the growing tension in her body and guessed that while part of her was aching for my fingers to head straight for her sex, in another she was hoping the slow, almost teasing prelude would continue. And although by then the pressure of my throbbingly swollen cock straining against my pants had become almost unbearable I knew that the longer I held off the more dramatically satisfying the final outcome would be, for both of us.

So, ignoring the signals I was getting to speed things along I continued at the same slow, inexorable pace and even when one hand had finally reached high enough, at first I did no more than lightly brush my finger-tips briefly over the outermost lips of her pussy.

But of course my intention had never been to torment her beyond endurance and when some time later I heard her more rasping gasps of growing arousal and felt the increasing muscular tension as she fought to control her urge to simply ram herself down on to my fingers I relented. Slipping lower at the same time as I pushed myself forward, I arched myself upwards, pressed my mouth to her, and slid my tongue into the furrow between her pussy-lips.

Even though I'd been hearing and feeling the signs of her mounting excitement I simply couldn't believe just how wet she actually was, and as I pushed my tongue up between the clinging folds I felt some of her juices running into my mouth and trickling down over my chin. Having finally reached that point I'm sure she wouldn't have allowed me to stop even if for some perverted reason I'd wanted to, but of course I didn't and a few minutes later my flickering tongue gave her what was obviously a truly enormous orgasm.

But then even before she had fully recovered her breath I felt her pushing herself backwards. 'And now for the main course!' she said in a low growl as she squatted above me and began frantically unfastening my belt.

I lifted my bottom as she tugged my trousers down, then she paused and looked up at me. 'It looks as though you got a bit over-excited Frank.' she said as she hooked her fingers into the waistband of my briefs.

I glanced down at the rearing bulge my cock was making and saw what she meant, the dark stain made by the copious amount of pre-cum that had been oozing from me all that time was all too obvious. And when she then carefully slid the briefs down to release it my lividly swollen cock sprang violently upright. 'Shit, that looks even bigger than usual!' she gasped. 'And that's not to imply I've had any complaint in that department, far from it!' she added with a tight grin, then said in a more concerned voice. 'You must have got stirred up very quickly Frank.'