Heather 2
I woke up with a mild headache. Mixing Xanax with liquor was not the most brilliant move on my part; I know those guys used me, but I don't remember the details, just that all my holes had been used. I was so thankful Phil had picked me up and brought me to his house. I probably should have let him fuck me to show my appreciation, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. I slept soundly until morning.
There was a soft knock at the door; it was Phil with some coffee and donuts, he was very attentive and would do anything I asked, but there was just no spark. I felt so bad for him and knew how much he loved me, so I couldn't just use him; knowing how he felt about me wouldn't be right.
During the night, I removed my robe and found a medium tee shirt in the closet. I pulled it on; it fit me like a second skin; my tits looked like they were trying to rip the shirt open.
Phil handed me my coffee, he was trying to be cool, but he couldn't take his eyes off my chest. My nubs were hard as erasers from the silky tee shirt. I slowly started pulling the blanket up, saying I was cold, but even under the blanket, the way I was laying, my boobs were forming a small mountain range.
Phil said I could stay as long as I wanted to and even offered to get my clothes from Jack's house. I said, "No, I didn't want anyone there when I returned."
Jack had a short temper, among other things, and he was strong; I didn't want Phil getting hurt. I must say Jack had never hit me, other than spanking, which most of the time I liked, but I still didn't want to risk it.
I stayed in bed all day, mainly because when I stood up, I started getting dizzy. Phil brought me a sandwich and water and cared for me, even washing and drying my panties. Then, it dawned on me that my only clothes were a skirt and a nylon top. I was so embarrassed when I realized I had left my garter belt and nylons in the bathroom with my heels. What must he think?
Phil returned around six and asked me if I wanted a pizza for dinner. I said sure, and I told him I would get dressed. He said "ok" and was going to put some music on. The top was too tight to wear without a blazer, and I certainly didn't feel like a skirt and all the nuisance of stockings and heels. I found an oversized robe in the closet; I put my bra on under the tee shirt, aware that every detail was visible; there was no way this robe was coming off.
Phil seemed disappointed I wasn't wearing my skirt, we ate silently. Finally, he asked what the plan was for today.
I asked if I could stay one more night, and I would leave in the morning. He happily agreed and nervously said I could permanently move in with him. I knew I shouldn't do it, but I leaned over and kissed him lightly on the cheek, inadvertently brushing his arm with my tits. He looked up at me, put his hand on the back of my head, and pulled me toward him.
I weakly tried to stop him,
whispering, "Phil, please don't,"
But he continued to pull me until our lips were touching, he tried to force his tongue in my mouth, but I clamped my mouth shut; he finally released me, and with a hurt look on his face, he said,
"What's wrong with me?"
"It's not you; it's me," I cried, running back to my room, closing the door, breaking down crying.
I finally regained my composure. laying there, I thought I should have been nicer to him; he had saved my life. Also, I had no other place to go.
I crept down the hall, I could see the tv was on, and Phil seemed to be sleeping. There was a half-bottle of Tequila at his feet. How could I thank him without him thinking I had feelings for him?
I went into the kitchen, looking for something to drink. The only thing I could find was a bottle of gin.
I had too much gin once when I was at a party, and the only thing I remember was waking up with my vomit and more than one guy's cum, all over me. But I was desperate and made myself a gin and tonic.
Three drinks and an hour later and I was blitzed. I heard Phil getting up; I was sitting in my bedroom, right now too dizzy to stand. He knocked softly, and I said, "Come in, Phil."
The both of us were drunk, and much to my surprise, he laid down on the bed next to me; he was careful not to touch me.
I screwed up my courage and said, "Thank you for saving my ass yesterday; I paused, casting my eyes down; if you want, I'll do something for you?"
He was shaking, " You know what I want." He mumbled. "I've never had sex with a woman; I always hoped my first would be you."
I didn't want to start crying but felt terrible for him.
I got up, a little unsteady, saying, "I've got a little surprise for you; I'll be back in a few minutes."
I went into the bathroom, brushed my hair, and put some makeup on. I said, "fuck it," and put my stockings on. If I was sober, I never would have done it. I took the tee shirt off; and walked out of the bathroom; I thought Phil's eyes would pop out. I slipped into my heels and stood before him in my garter belt, nylons, matching black lace bra, and panties.
It's strange; I know how it affects guys when a woman puts on stockings; they're horny in a second. But now I noticed that wearing nylons had the same effect on me.
"I can't have sex with you, I'm too sore from yesterday, but I'll suck your cock and you can cum on me if you want.
He set the record for dropping his pants; I fell to my knees and opened my mouth, swirling my tongue over his rock-hard dick. I made sure to moan and fake gag, saying how big his dick was. I knew he wouldn't last long. He shook and held my head tightly, moving my head up and down. It wasn't even two minutes before he erupted in my mouth. I couldn't swallow fast enough. He pulled out, spraying my poor face. Only a guy in his twenties could have that much cum. He flopped on the bed, still clutching his cock. I got up, my face and tits covered in his sticky cum, and made for the bathroom.
It took me quite a while to clean up. Finally, I looked presentable and returned to the bedroom, my heels clicking on the hardwood floor. Phil was lying back on the pillows, very drunk; I might as well get it over with; I asked if he enjoyed it.
He was like all guys after their first experience with a hot girl; he said, "I love you."
I had to be careful, I replied,
"That's sweet, Phil, and I have feelings for you too."
I could see his disappointment; I thought I had made a mistake, but it was too late now. I could see his dick was hard again, and I hoped this wouldn't get ugly. I carefully lay next to him. He took my hand and placed it on his hard cock; I tentatively squeezed it, and I could feel it throbbing. Mercifully, he passed out; I lay there, not moving for a few minutes, with his dick still in my hand. He was unconscious, but his dick wasn't. I kept stroking it; pre cum was starting to drip out. I couldn't believe he was ready again. I could have been a bitch and mounted him; that would be great; he would have been passed out the first time he fucked me. I rolled over and fell asleep, licking his pre cum from my hand, leaving him with a hard-on. Too bad for him.
I woke at seven. Phil had gone to his room sometime during the night. I put the robe on and went to get something to eat; I needed something besides cum, in my stomach. I had to go home today. I only hoped Jack would be out.
I dressed in the bathroom and tried to sneak out, putting my heels on outside. Then I realized my car was at the office.
Crestfallen, I returned to the house and asked Phil for a ride. He had just woken up, and, of course, he said yes.
I realized what I must have looked like sitting in the car with my knees together in the light of day. The sun was streaming through the window, highlighting the sheen of my stockings. I pulled the bottom of my skirt down as far as I could, but the stocking tops were still exposed. I thought, what did women do before pantyhose? The guys must have loved it.
