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Stocks and Bondage

Stocks and Bondage

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Robert handed me the bag and I looked at his face. Hopeful. Blushing. Nervous. Excited.

“What’s in the bag?” I asked. But I knew. And already my pussy was responding. I could feel myself growing wet. My heart rate picked up. I licked my lips and waited.

“A gift.”

I rustled it. A lovely pink and black bag with some small white accents. “For me or for you?”

“Yes,” he said.

I smiled. “For you more than me, right?”

“No. For us. You like it, too, right? It’s not just me.” He kept eye contact but reached for me and pushed his hand slowly — to give me time to back up — into my pants. He slid his hand beneath my panties and slid a finger between my nether lips.

I chewed my lower lip as a zing of pleasure shot through me. I was soaked to the bone.

Robert chuckled. He slid his finger inside me and flexed it.

I groaned.

“See, I think it is, in fact, a gift for both of us.”

I nodded. “When?”

“Now.” That finger flexed again and I wished he’d added a second and finger-fucked me until I came. It probably wouldn’t take much time at all. But I’d save it for our fun and games.

Robert loved me in stockings. Old-fashioned, high-waisted, beige 70s nylons, lovely black silk ones with seams up the back and a garter belt, fishnets, fence nets, even bright colorful opaque tights. Nothing got his cock harder than me wearing nothing but stockings.

I couldn’t wait to see what was in the bag. Given the fact that I was a jeans and T-shirt kind of girl, the stocking fetish was fun and hot as hell.

In the bedroom, I peeled off my jeans and my sweatshirt. Robert watched, leaning against the wall, holding the pink and black bag.

I hastily pulled my hair into a ponytail and waved my hands at my panties and bra. “On or off?”

He looked in the bag and said, “Off.”

The first pair he pulled out and unfurled made my nipples grow hard. He’d never brought me anything like this before, and I bounced up and down on my toes. My tits bounced and my man grinned.

“Those are hot! Gimme!”

I pulled them on slowly, letting him watch. The ritual of pulling on a pair of stockings was just as arousing to Robert. As I rolled the black stockings up my legs, I was revealing the white bones painted on them. The stockings were painted to look like a skeleton’s pelvis and legs and feet.

I giggled. “These are great.”

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