Stockings and masturbation

How Darby drove me nuts with her stocking covered legs. Driving me insane, and the events that led up to me seeking the treasure I so desperately desired.

You ever notice how the simplest things can drive you fucking insane? Like how the way Darby adjusted her stockings all damn day made my cock so hard I thought it might punch through my jeans.

She sat next to me in that little leather skirt, the fabric so short it barely covered her ass when she crossed those legs. Black stockings clung to her thighs, the sheer material doing nothing to hide the way her muscles flexed when she shifted in her seat. Every damn time she pulled at them, readjusting the tops where they’d slip down, I had to bite back a groan. The way the lace bit into her skin, the faint whisper of fabric against fabric—it was like torture.

And those shoes. Fuck, those shoes. Red Pepto-colored heels that made her legs look a mile long, the peep-toe design letting me see the faintest hint of her painted toenails. She’d kick them off every so often, just to rub her stocking-covered feet together, that swoosh sound driving me out of my goddamn mind. The clack of her heels against the floor mixed with the whisper of stockings sliding—it was a goddamn symphony of filth, and I was the only one listening.

She bent over to grab something from the filing cabinet, and there it was—just a flash of black lace at the top of her stockings, the edge of her ass peeking out before the skirt pulled it back into place. Tight little bikini panties, the kind that barely contained anything. I had to grip the edge of my desk just to keep from reaching out and running my fingers along the seam.

By mid-afternoon, I was a fucking wreck. My cock ached, my balls were heavy, and every damn time she crossed her legs, I swear I could feel the heat radiating off her. She’d bounce that damn foot up and down, those toes wiggling inside the heels, and I’d have to shift in my seat to ease the pressure.

Then she grabbed that gym bag.

I watched her head to the bathroom, her hips swaying just enough to make the skirt ride up. A minute later, she came out in fucking workout gear—tight black leggings that hugged every curve, a sports bra that did nothing to hide her tits, and her hair piled into some messy bun. She dropped the bag next to her chair, her red heels in one hand, gym bag in the other.

And then she left.

Left me alone with the scent of her.

I didn’t even think. I just lunged for that gym bag, flipping it open. Her clothes were still in there—crumpled, warm from her body. And there, next to them, her fucking heels. I snatched one up, pressed it to my face, and inhaled.

Oh fuck.

The scent hit me like a freight train—sweat, leather, and something sweet underneath, like vanilla and arousal. My cock throbbed so hard I thought I might pass out. I had to set the shoe down and adjust myself before I ruined my pants right there at the desk.

But that wasn’t all.

On top of her clothes was a pair of stockings. Black, sheer, still warm. I glanced around—empty office, no one in sight. I grabbed them, shoved them down the front of my pants, and prayed no one walked in.

Fuck, they smelled like her.

That night, I got home and locked the door behind me. I pulled those stockings out, and put one over my head like a fucking mask. The other, I rolled up and slid down on my cock, stroking myself with it until my vision blurred.

I came so hard I nearly blacked out, ropes of cum painting the inside of the stocking, the scent of her still clinging to the fabric. I collapsed back against the bed, panting, my cock still twitching.

And all I could think about was the next time she’d wear those some fucking stockings. I soiled the stockings to the point where they were ruined. I sat there, wondering when I’d be able to get a hold of her sexy hosiery again. The next day we’re at work when the best statement ever mumbled to me by her slipped out of her mouth. She asked if I could come over and help her with a couple things. I did not hesitate and agreed instantly. This is what I wanted and the ability to be able to get into Darby’s house and pleasure myself with as many pairs of her hosiery, and maybe even a couple pairs of her panties as well. Time will only tell.