It was 10.10 am on a Thursday in April. My wife was away at work in the city and wouldn't be home for another 12 hours at least; there was some big take-over bid and lots of paperwork to sort out. She was bringing cases of work papers home at the weekends too for the past two months and I hadn't really had any free time with her for ages. She was a tall, fit woman with a passion for work and the outdoors. Her favourite colour was red and when she dressed for work she dressed to kill: powermode. It was her good looks as well as her skills that had allowed her to progress up the corporate ladder.
I was drinking a mug of Assam tea and wondering what I could do, having taken the day off sick from the agency. There was little work and the last ad job was storming ahead on all formats. I deserved a break. I sat in the bedroom and gazed at the dressing table. Her makeup and hairclips were not sprawled over its surface for a change and her perfumes were all lined up. I put my mug down and wandered over to the dresser. Her top drawer was partially open revealing her lacy bras and knickers. I pulled it open and had a little rummage. A waft of her pot pourri lingered. I closed the drawer and smiled.
I was reminiscing about the little shopping trip I took her on to Paris, exclusively for the best lingerie money could buy. I opened her next drawer down. Carefully rolled up round balls of tights and stockings appeared, all neat and tidy. Towards the back were un-opened packets of Pretty Polly Italian sheer stockings and various kinds of tights. There were some Wolford Synergy range, Marks and Spencer Sheer Nude range and Le Bouquet black sheer tights. I took all these out and looked at the pictures. The models' nylon clad legs were all fantastic.
My wife had great legs too, and I often spent long hours staring at them, she wasn't keen to wear stockings to bed so my fetish had to remain unfulfilled or else admired from afar at parties or social engagements that called for smart dress. I often seduced her when she returned from work in a particular business suit, pushing her onto the kitchen table and pulling up her short skirt. I would frisk her nylon clad ass and feel her long smooth legs in the sheerest black tights before pulling down her gusset and silk panties and take her from behind. She would gasp with shock and delight and we would both cum almost simultaneously. Her arms flailing and legs kicking off her patent leather high heels. The memories were starting to turn me on. A great erect dick now lodged in my jogging bottoms.
I also remembered the time we were invited to one of her company's director's cocktail parties in a penthouse over looking Canary Wharf. She was in a red glittery number, and I knew she was in new black stockings as I had found the discarded packaging in the bedroom wastebasket. She was in her red heels, that must be 4 or 5 inches high and she seemed to be taller than me. We were of very similar height anyway. I think she did it to tower over the short old directors, to give them the best view of her pert breasts.
We were going up in a glass lift on the south side of the building when I hit the stop button between floors. She turned round from looking at the flood lit Thames and I reached into her dress slit that went from her ankles virtually up to her topmost thigh, revealing every now and then a glimpse of diaphanous flesh. She grinned evilly and unzipped my trousers and we made love up against the steamed up curved glass in front of the glittering spectacle that was London.
We were almost caught as the lift continued to ascend and only just managed to tidy ourselves up as the lift bell rang to inform us our floor had been reached. A barrage of waiters and hospitality girls met us as the door opened.
I found myself in a hot bath staring at the tiled wall, a razor in my hand and globules of shaving foam floating on the water. I gazed down at my knees and thighs. They were hairless; I had unconsciously shaved my entire legs and even my pubes. I had completely smooth legs! They felt soft and wonderful, very feminine. My long legs looked as good as my wife's. I was amazed. I had never shaved my self before. My erect cock bobbed merrily in the water.
The water had a subtle scent of rosewater added and this always reminded me of our romantic baths we often had at weekends. Candle lit and soft music we would run a bath and lie entwined for ages talking and kissing, Sometimes we would roll over, sloshing water everywhere, giggling and laughing and carefully make slow relaxing love as the water cooled and caressed our wet bodies. We would often climb out of the bath together and then lie on the marbled floor in a cosy nest of soft bath towels. I would start to lick her opened vaginal lips and she would swivel round and take me in her mouth. We would suck and lick each other off for hours. I would sometimes tongue her round little rosebud, but she never confessed to liking anything anal. This developed into a little fantasy of mine, it became quite obsessive. She would always squirm and bring me back to her dripping pussy for more tonguing.
I seemed to have dried myself off and reached for some moisturiser which had softened my legs even more, and my now hairless chest was pink and feminine too, but I lacked boobs. I seemed to be in a strange dreamy trance. I picked up the packet of Wolford tights I had brought into the bathroom and returned to the bedroom to drink the remainder of my tea.
I sat on the bed gazing at the long, long legs of the girl wearing the Wolford brand and getting extremely turned on.
She was wearing very high strappy heels and a black split dress almost identical to the one my wife had hanging in her wardrobe. It wasn't overly smart but very sensual and clingy, the thing she would wear to a friend's house for dinner or to the theatre. She wore it to the opening night of Maid to Last at the Savoy, and didn't want to look over-dressed for Sean who had managed to get a serious main part in the play. An old college friend of both of us, Sean was on the verge of the big time. In fact I think Sean had a soft spot for her, they dated three times before I started going out with her. Sean had put us up at his Covent Garden flat, after his first night drinks party. It was a super play and Sean was perfect as the husband of a country Lord's daughter who had affairs and he had to dress up in disguise to figure out what was going on behind his back, once as a maid only to be caught by her. This bizarre behaviour kept her happy and faithful to him. It was very cutting edge but not that shocking as there were no real scenes. The play was more about the politics. The one scene Sean did have to be disguised as a maid I will always remember that. He didn't look bad actually. Back at his flat he had gone to bed feeling exhausted and we stayed up in the spare room and stripped off quietly before I took her doggy style on the floor. I noticed packs and packs of tights and large women's high-heeled shoes under the spare bed. I guessed it was part of the costume Sean had to wear for the play. We practically made love all night before slinking off to work the next morning on amazing highs. Sean came over to dinner the next night he had off and was flush with the reviews Maid to Last was getting. His agent was being contacted by the BBC for a major series next year and MGM studios were looking for a sideman to Hugh Grant in a family swapping film comedy due to commence in the winter. Sean was going to new pastures. It was the time I could have sworn I saw his trouser leg ride up at the dinner table when I dropped a fork. I caught a shimmering high light on his bare leg, which I thought was just the lighting and the Merlot doing funny things to my eyes. I could have sworn he was wearing nude tights!
Sean didn't notice my strange expression, I was going to mention it to Susan but my wine numbed brain was busy thinking about work and the holiday to Vancouver at the end of the week, I totally forgot all about it. We were so tired that at bed time we both undressed and she hung her dress back in the wardrobe without a second thought of doing her strip routine she likes to do with it, letting it cling and drape off her breasts sensually and erotically.