A story about one of the many times I got to use my inebriated auntie’s pantyhose body for my pleasure
As the last guest stumbled out, my mother turned to me, “James, you know what to do.” I nodded, suppressing a sigh. Another aunt party, another cleanup duty.
The house echoed with the silence of departed merrymakers. Glasses and plates littered every surface, a testament to their joviality. I filled a bucket with hot water, grabbed a sponge, and began my assault on the kitchen counter.
My aunt, Agnes, was already snoring softly in the guest room. I pushed open the door to find her sprawled on the bed, her dressed-up friends left behind like crumpled wrapping paper. She was still in her party finery—a red dress hiked up around her hips, hair a mess of curls spilling over the pillow. But my eyes, as always, were drawn to her legs, encased in black pantyhose, heels still on.
I approached the bed, setting down my bucket with a soft clank. “Aunt Agnes?” I called out, already knowing the response. She stirred slightly but didn’t wake. I shook her shoulder gently, “Aunt Agnes?” Still nothing. A smile tugged at my lips. Time to begin our ritual.
I knelt by the bed, picking up her foot gently. Her heel was a sharp, glittering black, the buckle of her ankle strap a cool metal against my fingers. I could smell the faint, lingering scent of her perfume, something sweet and expensive. I rubbed her foot gently, feeling the soft give of her instep, the firm bone of her ankle.
Her heel slipped off easily, revealing her toenails, painted a bright, bold red. A silver toe ring glinted on her middle toe. I ran my thumb over it, feeling the smooth metal. Her feet were beautiful, her skin soft, her arches high. I traced the line of her ankle, feeling the slight give of her calves beneath the thin fabric of her pantyhose.
I moved to her other foot, repeating the process. Her heels were off now, but I left the pantyhose on. They were part of our dance, our secret routine. I rubbed her feet again, this time slower, more deliberately. I could feel my pulse quickening, my breath coming faster.
I slid my hand up her calf, feeling the smooth nylon under my fingertips. Her skin was warm beneath it, radiating heat. I reached her knee, then her thigh. She shifted slightly, a soft moan escaping her lips. I paused, then continued my ascent.
My cock was hard now, pressing against my jeans. I shifted, rubbing it against the mattress surreptitiously. I reached the hem of her dress, pulled it up further until her pantyhose-covered pussy was exposed. The nylon was damp, a dark patch darker than the rest.
I ran my fingers over it, feeling the warmth, the softness. I could see theoutline of her lips, her clit a slight ridge under my touch. I pressed my finger against it, feeling her squirm slightly in response. I smiled, feeling a sense of power surge through me.
I unbuckled my jeans, pulling out my cock. It was hard, throbbing in my hand. I ran my palm over it, feeling the smooth skin, the vein that pulsed along its length. I positioned myself between her thighs, rubbing my cock against the nylon.
It felt incredible—soft yet firm, warm yet cool. I pushed against it, feeling the head of my cock slip between her pussy lips. I could feel her heat through the nylon, could imagine what it would feel like bare.
I began to move, slowly at first, then faster. Each thrust sent jolts of pleasure coursing through me. My hips moved in a rhythm all their own, slapping against her thighs, her pussy. The sound of flesh hitting flesh filled the room, along with my ragged breathing.
I reached down, pulling the nylon aside. Her pussy was pink and slick, begging to be touched. I guided my cock to her entrance, pressing just the head in. I paused there, savoring the feel of her velvet softness around me.
Then I pushed in fully, gasping at the sudden heat enveloping me. I began to move again, faster this time, deeper. Each thrust pushed me closer to the edge. My balls tightened, my breath came in short gasps.
I Could feel the wave building, could feel it crashing over me. I thrust in deep one last time, my cock pulsing as I came. Wave after wave of semen poured out of me, some shooting through the fabric of her pantyhose, making an absolute mess of her pussy and the bed.
I stood up shakily, looking down at the scene before me. My aunt lay there, still unconscious, her pantyhose covered pussy a mess of semen and come-soaked nylon. My dick lay soft and glistening against my thigh. Satisfaction filled me.
I cleaned up as best I could—peeling off her pantyhose and throwing them in the hamper, wiping down the bed with a damp towel. I leaned down, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Until next time,” I whispered.
I left the room, shutting the door softly behind me. In the kitchen, I finished cleaning up, washing out my bucket and sponges, putting them away. Then I headed to bed, ready for a good night’s sleep. Ready for the next aunt party, for our next dance.
But as I lay there in the dark, one thought stayed with me. Tomorrow is my 16th birthday. After tonight’s adventure, maybe it’s time to start making my own parties.
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