CLICK HERE NOW!

Posts Tagged ‘Stockings’

englishmilf: milf pussy and stockings

Friday, June 30th, 2017

englishmilf:

milf pussy and stockings

Find local non-pro girls here!

Be Sociable, Share!

    frenchtwist: via girliemagazine * heart-shaped-apple: got…

    Thursday, November 22nd, 2012

    got stockings? (June Palmer)

    via girliemagazine * heart-shaped-apple:

    frenchtwist:

    Be Sociable, Share!

      thong-it: stockings and new thong you can leave the stockings…

      Sunday, November 11th, 2012

      stockings and new thong

      you can leave the stockings on. i’d just pull that thong down and take you gently from behind, classy lady.

      thong-it:

      Be Sociable, Share!

        doggingsite: going dogging in boots and stockings?

        Wednesday, November 7th, 2012

        going dogging in boots and stockings?

        doggingsite:

        Be Sociable, Share!

          Can imagine this being my wife.

          Tuesday, October 23rd, 2012

          “Was it worth waiting for?”

          I turned and mimed applause. She was an image of cool
          elegance, slender in a snug-fitting black slip dress.
          No stockings — with her olive skin, she didn’t need
          them.

          As I helped her into her coat, I realized that the
          dress was *all* she was wearing; the dress was thin
          enough that I would have noticed a bra strap or panty
          lines.

          I swallowed. “Are you *sure* you want to go the party?
          I could call Rob and give him our regrets, and we could
          settle down here…”

          FREE ADULT PERSONALS!

          She cut me off with a laugh. “Down boy! Public party
          first, private party later.” She danced lightly out of
          range of my mock grab, and laughed again.

          = = =

          I offered her my arm as walked towards the house.
          Though we were early, the closer parking was already
          taken. Laughter drifted around from the terrace in the
          rear.

          “Remember, don’t let me drink too much.” Her expression
          was half serious.

          Shelly has almost no capacity for drinking — even a
          glass of wine turns her giddy; it also tends to make
          her very, very, horny. More than two, though, and she
          gets sleepy, almost comatose.

          I laughed at her, “One or two, no more. I have plans
          for you, my dear.” She made a face back at me as I put
          on my best leer.

          I *would* keep an eye on her, not that she usually
          needs it; she’d learned the hard way how little
          tolerance her body has for drinking.

          = = =

          A young man, one of the college boys Rob had hired to
          help with the party, let us in. After a brief detour
          upstairs to leave the coats in one of the spare
          bedrooms, we threaded our way through the mob in the
          living room to join the even larger mob on the terrace.
          There must have been over 50 people there already.

          Rob waved us a welcome without interrupting his con-
          versation; we waved back, and moved on. Most of the
          guests were people I didn’t recognize.

          “Do you want to dance?”

          Shelly shook her head. “Maybe later. I’d like to cir-
          culate a bit and meet people, first.”

          Wine glasses in hand, we did just that. Before long,
          a female friend claimed her, and I wandered over to
          join the group listening to the band. Looking back,
          I could see the two women now had several men in
          attendance.

          Somehow, I found myself roped into a heated political
          discussion, the kind that usually ends with some
          variation of “I guess they’re *all* crooks!” I didn’t
          get to hear the end of this one, though — just as it
          started to reach the loud stage, Shelly reappeared and
          pulled me out onto the dance floor.

          Though she was enjoying herself, she wasn’t dancing
          with her usual careful restraint. I took in her
          flushed expression and raw, almost predatory, dancing
          style with a frown.

          “Shelly, just how much wine did you drink?”

          She giggled at my worried expression. “I know, I know,
          I’ve had all the wine I need. Don’t worry, dear — I
          only had two glasses, and I’m switching to punch after
          this. You’d better switch, too — you’re going to need
          all your strength later.”

          Though she tried her best, Shelly’s face isn’t really
          built for dirty leers. Though I was delighted by the
          sentiment, it took all my willpower not to laugh at
          her.

          Instead, I steered her towards the buffet. She wasn’t
          hungry, but did accept a tall glass of the milky-
          looking orange punch. She sipped, then took a much
          bigger drink.

          “This is good!”

          I *did* laugh at the pleased surprise in her voice,
          and got a glass for myself. I had to agree with her —
          it *was* good: creamy, mildly orange flavored, and
          slightly fizzy. I sipped mine slowly, then laughed
          again when I saw that she had finished her first glass
          and was asking for a refill.

          “Ready to go home, Shelly?”

          “Let me sit down and listen to the music for a while.
          And you can help yourself to some of the food that I
          see you drooling over.” She laughed back at me as my
          stomach gave a rumble.

          I walked her to the nearest seat before returning to
          the buffet. She gave me her empty glass to take back.

          “What was in that punch? My wife really likes it.”

          The bartender gave a shrug. “Nothing hard to find — a
          quart of orange sherbet, a big bottle of ginger ale,
          two bottles of cheap sparkling wine.”

          I suddenly lost all interest in the buffet. Even at
          that dilution, Shelly had just finished the equivalent
          of at least three more normal-sized glasses of wine. If
          I didn’t get her home soon I’d have to carry her.

          Even in the short time I’d been gone, it had started to
          affect her. She swayed visibly when she stood, and
          clung to my arm desperately as I led her back towards
          the house.

          “I need to lie down for a while. I’m sorry, honey. I
          didn’t mean to make such an idiot of myself.” Her voice
          was muted and more than a little slurred.

          “Shh, sweetheart. Not your fault. Can you stay awake
          long enough for me to get you home?”

          “I’ll try.” Her voice sounded doubtful.

          Rob must have a sixth sense – he met us before we’d
          covered half the distance to the house and took her
          other arm.

          “What happened?”

          “Your punch – she didn’t know it was spiked. I need to
          get her somewhere to lie down.”

          He looked thoughtful. “If we can get her up the stairs,
          the spare bedroom next to the coatroom is empty. If she
          doesn’t feel better later, you can spend the night
          here.”

          Despite our worries, Shelly stayed awake long enough to
          make it to the bedroom. With a final, worried look,
          Rob headed back down.

          “Will you be all right, honey?”

          She managed a sleepy smile. “I’ll be fine after a
          nap, sweetheart. Give me an hour or two and I’ll feel
          better. Just turn out the lights and let me sleep till
          then.” She kicked off her shoes and scooted onto the
          bed.

          When I checked on her ten minutes later, she was sound
          asleep, she didn’t even stir when I tugged her dress
          down to a more decent level; it had risen enough to
          confirm my guess about her lack of underwear. I gave
          her a gentle kiss and headed downstairs to enjoy the
          festivities. We obviously weren’t going anywhere for
          a while.

          = = =

          Though I tried, I was too distracted to really enjoy
          the party. Rather than just wander aimlessly, I took
          over the indoor bar; it had the benefit of keeping me
          too busy to brood. Over the next couple of hours, the
          crowd shifted gradually outside, till only a small,
          all-male group was left, dividing their attention be-
          tween the bar and the television in the far corner.

          As the demand on the bar slowed, I had time to notice
          a minor oddity; guys would head upstairs, be gone for
          a while, then return to the main group. I shrugged;
          probably just looking for an open bathroom I thought.
          Seemed kind of a long way to go, though.

          Finally, one of the college boys relieved me. I headed
          up to check on Shelly. At the foot of the stairs, the
          doorman flagged me down. I paused.

          “How’s your wife?”

          “I was just heading up to check on her.”

          “If she’s feeling better, you might want to get her
          home. Some of these boys are getting a little raunchy.
          I heard someone say there’s a woman pulling a train in
          one of the spare bedrooms. If you stay, you’ll have to
          listen to them boasting all night long. Or Rob trying
          to calm them down.”

          That explained the back and forth traffic I’d been
          seeing. But he was right; she’d be better off at home.
          I started up the stairs.

          At the top of the stairs, I shook my head wryly; some-
          where, a woman was moaning. I passed the coatroom and
          turned the corner.

          I noticed that Shelly’s light was on, and the door was
          ajar. But I was in the doorway before I realized that
          the moans were coming from her room.

          After an endless moment of shocked paralysis, I rushed
          forward. I hadn’t the time – or the mental clarity —
          to form a coherent plan; I was operating on the level
          of reflex. And it was pure reflex that bludgeoned me
          to a horrified halt in the doorway.

          From the door, I could only see the back of the man who
          had mounted her, his pants puddled around his ankles.
          What held me frozen, though, was the sight of Shelly’s
          bare feet hooked into her favorite position behind his
          knees, urging him in. Her face was contorted in her
          familiar, just-before-orgasm rictus; moments later her
          heels locked in place and her moans changed to the
          choked whimper that signals her release. Before she had
          completely finished, a much deeper groan signaled his.

          Almost immediately, he was on his feet and pulling his
          pants up. He showed no surprise when he turned and saw
          me in the doorway; probably, he took me for the next in
          line. With a friendly nod, he brushed past me and out
          before I could get my frozen muscles to respond.

          Shelly lay naked on the bed, her dress a wadded-up ball
          beside the pillow. Her face had relaxed again; eyes
          closed, she seemed at least half asleep. Her chest
          still had a faint, post-orgasmic flush to it and her
          dark nipples were erect. I gave a shuddering gasp and
          stepped forward, closing the door behind me.

          Not too surprisingly, the whole room reeked of sex. As
          I walked closer, I could see a white stream of semen
          running from the swollen lips of her vagina. Even
          now, she didn’t seem to be aware of me.

          “Shelly!”

          No response.

          “*Shelly!*”

          When I shook her, her eyes remained closed, though she
          did mumble something that might have been my name.

          I began to tremble with rage as I stood beside the bed.
          I could see it all, playing like a movie inside my
          head: The first man stumbling in to find Shelly asleep,
          her dress above her hips once more.

          His embarrassment changing to arousal.

          Knowing Shelly, she was probably already wet — and her
          normal sleeping response is to spread her legs in
          invitation.

          His acceptance.

          If she’s already aroused, Shelly can respond, even
          orgasm, without fully waking. I’m sure she gave him a
          great ride.

          And since she was so eager, he probably couldn’t resist
          bragging to a friend or two. Of course, they had to
          check it out. And brag in turn.

          I tried to remember how many men I’d seen make the
          trip up the stairs. Five? More? I couldn’t be sure;
          some had gone up more than once. At a minimum, her body
          had been taken – raped – by half a dozen men.

          I stared down at her nude body. Even now, she was so
          lovely that it hurt. Her legs were flexed and slightly
          spread, framing her ravished pussy. Though her inner
          lips were still swollen and slightly agape, the pink of
          her core was hidden by the white stream that oozed down
          to form an obscene pool beneath her.

          My fists and my jaw were so tightly clenched they were
          painful. I tried to think of what to do. Tell Rob. Call
          the police. Try to avoid attacking the men responsible.
          Thank God she was on the pill. Take her to the doctor.

          I thought some more. Could we prove rape? I had only
          seen one of them with her. And he could claim; truth-
          fully – that she had enjoyed it. Would the police even
          bother to file charges? Was Shelly willing to deal
          with the smear campaign their lawyers would hand out?

          I reluctantly decided that she’d be happier if I kept
          quiet. She could deal with this – to her, it would be
          no more than a half-recalled erotic dream; notoriety
          and a trial we might not win would be the problem.

          (“Deal with it? She had *enjoyed* it!”) a nasty corner
          of my mind whispered. One of her hands had slipped
          down and was sleepily caressing her slit. With feeling
          of self-loathing, I realized that I was erect and
          throbbing. I wrapped my beautiful young wife up with
          the bedspread and carried her down stairs to our car…

          The party was over as far as we were concerned.

          FREE ADULT PERSONALS!

          Be Sociable, Share!

            ashleymarionne: Thank god her tits are amazing cause the…

            Friday, October 5th, 2012

            Thank god her tits are amazing cause the stockings are UUUggly ! 

            ashleymarionne:

            Be Sociable, Share!

              demi-hotwife: Big boob milf in stockings after a fuck date

              Friday, September 21st, 2012

              Big boob milf in stockings after a fuck date

              demi-hotwife:

              Be Sociable, Share!