As I kneeled on the floor my mind swirling, I took a deep breath to gain my composure. Surely Mrs. Thomas only asked for a foot massage because her feet hurt. There was no way she knew of my stocking obsession or how I have been pining for her nylon-clad legs and feet.
Mrs. Thomas pulled her foot away from my hand.
"What's a matter John, do you not know how to give a foot massage."
Was she teasing me?
"Yes, Mrs. Thomas I can give a good massage."
As I reach out again her left foot meets my left hand. As my hand slipped under her high heel I grasped hold. I could see the cleavage of her toes poking out of her black pumps, the sheerness of her tan stockings as they lay across the little sweet gaps.
"Can I help you?"
She asked as she popped her heel out of the back of the pump. My pants tightened as my manhood back rockhard.
Was the pastor's wife trying to arouse me? My mind a whirl how and where did this all start?
The week after my 18th birthday I was given the responsibility to run the sound booth by myself. I enjoyed the position of the booth to the side of the sanctuary with a full view of the front row.
I sat there enjoying the usual view of pastor Thomas's wife.
She was in her late 30s. Very beautiful, 5.6, strawberry blonde, slim waist, and a very nice rack. Her white blouse was tightly wrapped around her frame. Her skirt that day a flowy knee-length skirt that was made masterfully to show off the glorious curve of her ass. Matching her dress her legs donned black nylons and finished with a pair of modest but still very sexy high heels.
Mrs. Thomas must have been getting restless and this is where my sexual awareness of nylons started. Out of the corner of my eye, I see her uncross her legs so I took a moment to sneak a peak. As she recrosses to the other side her skirt slit opens to mid-way up her thigh.
A few second peaks became a few minutes of looking for a hint of stocking tops (hopeful thinking as I was sure she had a modest pair of pantyhose on).
My eyes began to wander down past her knee and to her heels before I was about to look away when I got a pleasant surprise.
Her shoe slipped off the back of her heel exposing the back half of her stocking-covered foot. The shoe sat there dangling off her toes. She arched her foot to keep the shoe in place causing the fabric of the black stockings to wrinkle at the top of her foot. Lost in bliss I was shocked out of a trance by noticing my cock getting harder and harder.
I looked to the sole of her foot as she started bouncing the heel up and down. I couldn't help but appreciate the nylon gaping between the arch of her feet seeing the material stretched out and sheer to the contrast of its look wrapped around the rest of her foot.
Suddenly she popped her heel back on and placed both feet flat on the floor. I looked back up at the pulpit hoping I was caught.
Luckily the message was over and everyone was praying. Me praying my hard-on would disappear before having to stand.
Week after week I enjoyed tan stockings, white stockings, and black stockings. As well as a few glimpses of heel popping and every Sunday night I would release the pressure created during the morning.
One week as Mrs. Thomas' heel slipped off her heel the shoe dropped to the ground. Her sexy toes out in the open behind a sheer veil of tan stocking. Her nails were polished in a dark red, so sexy (too sexy) for a pastor's wife.
As I looked up Mrs. Thomas gave a quick hello smile as she reached down to put her shoe back on. I knew I should have looked away but I wanted to see the view of her lovely polished nails slipping back into their cover.
Again hopeful I wasn't caught and scared my hard-on would soon be found out.
I must not have been caught; her heel starts dangling again.
More weeks go by and I'm surprised once again. Her heel hits the floor once again. This time white stockings and the same sexy dark red polished toenails. Mrs. Thomas instead of reaching down pointed her toes downward arching her foot as she searched for her shoes.
She must not have noticed her shoe hunting had slid her skirt slightly so higher. The mid-thigh gap of weeks ago was now hiked oh so high enough. I had almost lost my load to the view of her white-clad foot arching down to find her shoe.
Now as I look to the newly revealed territory I see the lacy top of her thigh-high stockings. I had everything I could to stop from losing it all inside my boxer briefs.
After service that day Mr. Thomas asked if I would come over Thursday night and move some boxes for them.
Thursday came and I wasn't expecting much if Mrs. Thomas would even be there. As I hit the door I saw a note " in a meeting may run late boxes in the living room need to go to the study downstairs.
As I started back up from the basement stairs Mrs. Thomas was standing at the top
"Hi Johny! Thanks for the help."
My jaw must have dropped.
White blouse which in the light showed a hint of sheerness. Her breasts were clad in a white bra and I could make out a flower pattern.
The skirt was slightly shorter than the normal Sunday attire. Flowy still and as always sung tight around her ass showing her great curves.
I must have been staring too long.
"You only did one box John and you're taking a breather?"
"Let me help you."
At that moment she turned around, bent over and grabbed a box.
For seconds the glimpse of a lifetime!
