Secretary, Derby may have her fans, but it’s her nephew who truly gets to experience her hosiery was firsthand.
The party’s echo still hummed in the house, but the guests were gone, leaving behind a silent chandelier and scattered confetti. I was , tasked with cleaning up while my parents slipped away, oblivious to the secret world I was about to enter. The house was a wreck, a twisted troupe of chairs and emptied glasses. I called out for Aunt Darby, but she was nowhere to be found.
Her bedroom door creaked open, revealing a scene that would soon become all too familiar. Aunt Darby lay sprawled on her bed, a pool of black silk and passed-out woman. She was dressed in her party finery—an emerald green dress and her signature black pantyhose, a shimmering web across her legs and feet. The room was heavy with her perfume and the faint tang of alcohol.
I shook her gently, then more insistently. “Aunt Darby?” I whispered, but she was gone, washed away by the party’s tide. I stood there, a boy on the cusp, staring at her pantyhose-covered legs, feeling an unfamiliar stirring. I had always been fascinated by her pantyhose, sneaking into her room to steal the clean ones from her drawer, leaving behind my secret stains. But tonight, the draw was stronger, the temptation too great.
I began to tremble as I knelt beside the bed. The room was spinning, or maybe it was just me, as I reached out a tentative hand, tracing the shimmering line of her pantyhose down her calf. The fabric was smooth, cool, and it hummed under my touch. I stroked her leg, feeling the ridged seam, the faint give of her muscles underneath. My heart pounded in my ears as I leaned in closer, my breath fogging up the nylon.
I could feel myself growing hard, a strange, intense pressure building in my small body. I looked up at Aunt Darby’s face, peaceful in sleep, and made my decision. I unzipped my pants, letting my small cock spring free. I rubbed it against her leg, the friction sending jolts through me. I moaned softly, my eyes closed, losing myself in the sensation.
I moved slowly, up and down her leg, up along her inner thigh. I felt her stir slightly, a soft murmur escaping her lips, and I froze, terrified that she would wake. But she just shifted position, her legs falling open slightly, inviting me in. I took it as a sign, moving up until my cock was nestled between her thighs, the pantyhose a thin barrier between us.
I began to move in earnest now, humping against her, my tiny body working furiously. The pressure built and built, my balls tight and aching. I could feel it coming, that familiar rush that usually sent me scrambling to hide my soiled pantyhose somewhere in her room. But this time, I didn’t want to hide. I wanted to come here, on her, inside her.
With a final cry, I moved up, shoving my cock against her pantyhose-covered pussy. I came hard, my body wracked with spasms as I filled the pantyhose with my cum. It was like nothing I had ever felt before, this intense, overwhelming release. I collapsed onto the bed beside her, gasping for breath, staring at the damp spot on her pantyhose.
As my breathing returned to normal, I sat up and looked at Aunt Darby’s peaceful face. I knew I should clean up, but I couldn’t bring myself to leave yet. I reached out, tracing the damp spot on her pantyhose, feeling the cool slickness of my cum through the fabric. I slipped a finger underneath the hem of her dress, finding her pussy lips through the pantyhose. They were damp too, with a mixture of my cum and her own arousal. I rubbed gently, feeling a pulse of heat in my own body.
I couldn’t do it again, not tonight. But I knew this wouldn’t be the last time. Aunt Darby would always be like this after parties—passed out and vulnerable—and I would be there, ready to make use of her pantyhose-clad body. This was just the beginning.
I pulled her pantyhose off carefully, holding them up to examine the stained crotch. Then, I leaned in and rubbed my cock across Aunt Darby’s face, leaving a trail of sticky cum on her cheek before kissing her forehead. I left the room, carrying her pantyhose like a trophy, ready to sneak them back into her drawer tomorrow.
As I lay in bed that night, waiting for sleep to take me, I could only think of one thing—the next party, and the next opportunity to claim Aunt Darby’s pantyhose body as my own. And so it went, through many more parties and stolen moments—pantyhose footjobs, thigh jobs, handjobs, even a pantyhose mask blowjob that made me cum harder than I thought possible. Through it all, Aunt Darby remained none the wiser, her memories of the night before always hazy and unspecific. And as for me, every party was just another chance to use and abuse my pantyhose aunt’s willing—though unconscious—body.
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