Kelly
I graduated from high school in June of nineteen sixty-six. It was not a public school but an all-girl, very strict catholic school. Most of the teachers were nuns and they all stressed that sex was reserved for procreation and that guys were evil. My parents were very protective of me. So were all of my classmate's parents, and most of my class, myself included, had never gone out on a date. Much less having French kissed a guy and forget about letting anyone touch me.
People always tell me how "pretty" I am, but I can never see it.
Looking in our full-length mirror, I felt self-conscious. My legs are shapely, my butt is round and tight, and my boobs started filling out last year. I can only guess my size; my mother always buys shapeless cotton bras and "granny panties." The last bra she bought me was a thirty-two c cup that my boobs filled out completely. Round and firm with super sensitive nipples, more than once, I spent extra time soaping them in the shower.
I was looking forward to a fun summer. A friend had found me a job at the local "Dairy Hut" that my father's close friend from our church owned. I needed the money and wanted to get out in the real world and meet some boys. I thought everything was settled; then Vicky appeared on the scene.
My parents have been chosen to represent our church at a week-long series of seminars out of town. There was no way they would leave me alone, my mother's friend from college, Vicky, offered to take me to her apartment in New York City for a week. I acted like I didn't want to go, and I knew that would make my mother force me, and it worked.
Vicky was a little wild in the early sixties, and what she did for money needed to be clarified. When the subject was brought up, my mother always said that Vicky was a personal assistant, I didn't know what that meant. But she always drove a new car and wore beautiful clothes. I couldn't wait.
Vicky picked me up on Wednesday, and we set off for New York.
I had on a plain white summer dress and flat shoes. By contrast, Vicky wore a tight floral dress with white heels. She was so youthful at thirty-nine years old we could almost pass for sisters. It was less than a two-hour drive. I loved speaking with her; she treated me like an adult. We mainly talked about my graduation and what I was going to do. Finally, she brought up boys.
"Are you serious about anybody special?"
I turned beet red, "I've never been on a date," I whispered.
She turned and looked at me, "With those legs and boobs, you should be beating boys off with a stick."
"Tell my mother I can't even pick out my own clothes." I was on a roll as I told her how strict my parents were. Vicky replied.
"Well, we've got a week to make some changes."
I was nervous and wasn't sure what she meant.
"You must learn to control men by preying on their weakness; they are very visual and easily controlled."
I was so naive, "What do you mean, Vicky."
I'm like an aunt to you, so it will be my job to give you the facts of life. There's a gas station coming up, and I need gas and want something cold to drink.
"Sure I said. While you're getting gas, I'll go inside."
"You're not going anywhere; the gas guy will get it for us for free."
I was so excited I had no idea what to expect. We stopped short of the gas pumps. Vicky sat up in her seat and pulled her dress up, exposing her stocking tops and garter clasps. I was shocked,
" Vicky, what are you doing?
"Men are suckers for stockings and a good set of legs; now watch and learn."
We pulled up to the pumps, and a kid in his twenties walked up to the car; his eyes went straight to her exposed legs.
"Fill me up," she purred. He nearly fell over his feet, trying to hurry. After he started the pump, he came up to clean the windshield.
"You don't have to do that," Vicky said. She turned, looking at me and winking.
"I don't mind. It's part of my job." He kept cleaning the glass on Vicky's side while hardly touching mine.
"Look at the bulge in his pants, Kelly; he likes my legs."
I glanced at him, and my eyes nearly popped; he had a huge bulge in his pants that looked like it would break his zipper. I had never seen anything like that before; I felt tingling in my crotch. I so wanted to touch myself.
Vicky paid for the gas and asked the attendant if cold drinks were inside as he made change; she leaned back and said, "My feet are killing me in these heels. Would you be a dear and get two for me?"
To emphasize the point, she pulled up her leg, showing him her heels and more leg almost to her panties. "Yes, right away." He returned in a minute, handing them to her.
"You're such an angel; what do I owe you, dear?" At the same time, laying her hand on his arm.
"It's my pleasure," he said as Vicky winked at him.
When we were on the road again, Vicky laughed.
"See, I told you men are easy. Never underestimate the power of nylons and heels."
I was stunned but later found out she was right; I adored her confidence; I would have died of embarrassment, doing what she did. What fascinated me was how casual she was with her exposed stockings.
We arrived at her apartment around four. It was on the twentieth floor, and I almost fainted when she opened the door. The apartment was breathtaking; it overlooked the Hudson River; I made up my mind on the spot. I wanted to stay here forever.
Vicky ordered some appetizers from the restaurant on the first floor.
She poured me a glass of wine; I was shocked,
"I've never had anything to drink in my life," Vicky smiled.
"You're old enough. Just take it slow."
I carefully sipped it, loving the warm feeling spreading over me. The food came, and I had never had shrimp cocktail before. I wanted more of this lifestyle, I ate most of the appetizers, Vicky laughed.
"Come on, let's go to dinner so we can come back and relax."
I felt so important being with Vicky. She was so pretty, and everybody knew her. She looked elegant in a black V-neck dress with dark stockings and heels. When we were seated, the restaurant manager came over, kissed Vicky's hand, and asked if she would be staying for an extended visit. I was shocked; I thought she lived here all the time.
Vicky introduced me and said we would stay for a few weeks. He bowed and kissed my hand; I never felt so special. After we finished dinner, I noticed we never received a check for the meal. Vicky got up and walked over to the manager; she said something to him and kissed him on the cheek.
Back in her apartment, I sat on the couch, enjoying the view; Vicky poured another glass of wine for us and sat close to me, our legs touching. I turned to her,
"I don't think I'll ever be able to wear high heels without falling."
"Nonsense, let's try right now." Vicky went to the bedroom and returned with black three-inch heels. I slipped off my flats and into the heels. I stood up, wobbling a little; I could only go a few steps, then fell onto the couch laughing. Vicky caught me, saying let's go to bed. We have a big shopping day ahead of us.
I finished brushing my teeth when Vicky called to help remove her necklace. I was surprised she was still in her underwear; she noticed I looked shocked.
"What's the matter, Kelly?"
"I have only seen stuff like this in magazines."
"Oh, you mean my garter belt and bra. Don't tell me you still wear a panty girdle; they're for old women. Your mother should be ashamed. You're a young woman. You should feel pretty."
I removed her necklace, still blushing, embarrassed, and turned on simultaneously. I said goodnight and went into my bedroom.
I lay in bed wondering what this feeling I was experiencing was all about. My hands went to my crotch, applying light pressure. I had experienced the same feeling in the shower; the nuns in school had warned us about self-abuse. I felt guilty, but it just felt so good. I fell asleep squeezing my hands between my thighs, feeling frustrated.
Vicky was up early, and after breakfast, we headed out shopping. I tried to tell her I didn't have much money, but she kissed me on the cheek, saying not to worry, it was her treat.
The morning flew by; it was unlike anything I had ever experienced shopping.
Vicky knew everybody in the shops; I lost count of the dresses and skirts she bought for me; the best part was we didn't have to carry anything. The salesgirls sent all the clothes to her apartment.
Over lunch at a small cafe, Vicky said how much fun she was having.
"When we're finished lunch, we will get the important stuff,"
she said, winking at me.
"Vicky, you're spending too much on me. How can I ever repay you?"
She smiled and took my hand.
"We'll make it your graduation present from me."
The afternoon was much like the morning, a whirlwind of shopping. Vicky bought me three pairs of high heels. Then we headed to the lingerie shop, the only store I felt nervous about. My mother bought all of my underwear at a variety store.
Of course, Jan, who ran the shop, knew Vicky. I felt like a child. All the women in the store were so beautiful and worldly.
We went into a private dressing room. Jan said the first thing was to get undressed. While stripping, Jan brought in two glasses of wine, and I eagerly drank mine.
I pulled my simple dress over my head, standing in my white cotton bra, panties, and panty girdle.
"I mean everything, honey," Jan said.
I was blushing furiously, but Jan was professional. She returned with an assortment of bras, panties, and garter belts. After settling on the correct sizes,
I nestled my thirty-two D boobs into a black lace bra and pulled on matching panties and a garter belt. As I clipped my garters to dark suntan stockings, I realized the bra cups were cut so the tops of my tits showed; I looked and felt like a "Bad girl." I wondered if this was a sin.
Vicky and Jan looked me over. I felt very self-conscious standing there in my underwear as they inspected me, adjusting my garters and remarking how guys would give me anything I wanted, just for a smile.
I put my dress back on and slipped into white heels. I walked back into the shop, getting used to my heels.
"You look great, Kelly, and thanks for your help Jan." Vicky embraced her. We returned around five o'clock, and I was amazed that all of our bags were with the doorman, who brought them up to Vicky's apartment.
Since we had a late lunch, we decided to have something sent up later. Vicky was often on the phone; I could never make out what she was saying,
She spoke softly with a husky voice that she didn't use with me. It could only be a man; I heard her say something about Saturday night.
