if lost,, try
https://www.literotica.com/stories/memberpage.php?uid=326288&page=submissions

AUNTIE’S STOCKING SLAVE CH. 01
STORY INFO
Auntie's stockings get a lad into trouble and a spanking.
4.9k words
4.41212k939
PUBLIC BETA
Note: You can change font size, font face, and turn on dark mode by
clicking the "A" icon tab in the Story Info Box.

You can temporarily switch back to a Classic Literotica® experience
during our ongoing public Beta testing. Please consider leaving feedback
on issues you experience or suggest improvements.

Click here
MicheleNylons
MicheleNylons
375 Works3412 Followers
It was 1959 and I was eighteen years old. My mother and father had died
over a year ago in a car crash and after spending six months in a foster
home my Aunty Jean had taken me in as her ward.

Aunty Jean was forty-five and quite an attractive woman for her age. Her
body was a little on the large side but she had large creamy breasts and
stunning legs for a woman her age. She worked in an office in the city
and her work attire usually consisted of skirt, blouse, heels and
hosiery; she dressed sophisticatedly and wore lots of makeup and perfume.

She preferred tight pencil skirts; the hem resting just above her knees,
and tight satin or silk blouses. She always wore hosiery and I was
occasionally rewarded with a glimpse of stocking-top or welt as it is
correctly known. She wore either taupe or grey nylons and, although they
had recently gone out of fashion, she preferred fully-fashioned
stockings with a back-seam. She also favoured high-heels; either strappy
sandals or open-toe pumps.

Aunty Jean's makeup was always perfect: lashings of black eyeliner,
mascara and multi-hued eyeshadow set off her sparkling hazel eyes. Her
cheeks were rouged to enhance her high cheek-bones and she wore ruby-red
lipstick on her full sensuous lips. She painted her fingernails and
toenails with nailpolish to match the colour of her lipstick. Her pretty
face was framed by a jet-black bob, which some of her friends jealously
insisted was dyed. She wore exotic perfume which seemed to envelop her
in a cloud wherever she went.

She stood five-foot six-inches tall in her heels and was voluptuous
rather than fat.

To me she was stunning.

My mother had worn dowdy shapeless house-dresses, flat shoes and only
wore hosiery when going out somewhere special or to church. To my mind,
Aunty Jean was very exotic and sensual and I was fascinated by her. She
seemed a little aloof and I had overheard her say to a friend that she
didn't really want me staying with her but she felt obliged to help me
as I was her sister's son. It was no secret that once I had finished
college she expected me to move out.

Aunty preferred it if I kept to myself and not get under her feet. We
saw each other at meals and I was allowed to watch one hour's television
with her on weeknights. On weekends I sometimes accompanied her to
church or to a friend's house for tea. I had a small room upstairs at
the back of the house where I spent most of my time studying or reading
books. I didn't have many friends at my new college but I had always
been a loner anyway.

Being an eighteen-year-old boy my hormones were seething and my thoughts
constantly drifted to sex and I had a semi-permanent erection. My
favourite pastime was masturbation and whilst exploring my aunt's house
I had discovered a cache of fashion magazines. The lingerie section of
the magazines contained glossy pictures of attractive mature women
posing in underwear and they provided me with visual stimuli during my
masturbatory sessions.

I would take a magazine from the stack that my aunt kept in a drawer in
her bedroom, and once I had exhausted my masturbatory fantasies over the
models in that particular edition, I would exchange it for another. It
was during this period that I discovered the delights of the laundry
basket in the bathroom I shared with Aunty Jean.

During what I refer to as my indoctrination period Aunty Jean explained
to me the 'house-rules'; that is, the rules that I would be required to
obey during my stay with her. She explained to me that I was to fold my
clothes at the end of the day and place them in the laundry basket each
evening prior to retiring. Twice-weekly she would wash and iron our
clothes and leave my freshly laundered clothing folded at the foot of my
bed.

One evening, not long after I started borrowing my Aunt's fashion
magazines, I was placing my dirty college uniform in the laundry basket
when an item sitting on the top of the other soiled clothing caught my
attention. It was a pair of black silk panties. I had seen pictures of
ladies modelling panties like these in my aunt's fashion magazines and
found them fascinating. I carefully lifted the garment out of the
laundry basket and was immediately captivated by the sumptuous feel of
the flimsy garment. The delicate material was luxurious; soft and cool
to touch, and so transparent that I could see my fingers through the
dark silk.

I held up the panties and scrutinised them. The panties were full-cut,
the back and front panels delicately sewn together at the sides, which
were quite wide, and the gusset was reinforced with a second layer of
the dark silken material. A tiny patch of white crust, which I guessed
was my Auntie's vaginal discharge, clung to the gusset.

I lifted the panties to my face and inhaled; traces of my Aunt's exotic
perfume, combined with the underlying scent of her sex, invaded my
nostrils. I rubbed the garment across my cheek and I felt an erection
begin to grow in my shorts. I freed my turgid member from the confines
of my shorts and draped the garment over my shaft and felt the most
wondrous sensations flow through my body as the cool silk slid along my
shaft and the bulbous glans of my penis. After a few strokes I climaxed,
shooting streams of hot ejaculate over the bathroom floor.

I became light-headed with the intensity of my orgasm and I almost
passed out. When I recovered from my climax I was horrified to discover
that a few tendrils of my semen had soaked into the black silken
panties. I did my best to blot up the incriminating fluid before it
could dry and then carefully returned them back to the laundry basket,
trying to position them just how I had found them. I cleaned up the
bathroom floor and vowed never again to commit such a foolish act.

Of course I was making promises that I could not keep; my natural
teenage curiosity and constant state of sexual arousal constantly led me
back to the laundry basket to discover what silken delights lay therein.
I was very careful to return the objects of my obsession exactly as I
found them and also tried my hardest to keep my seminal fluids from
staining the delicate garments when I used them to stimulate me during
masturbation.

The next turn of events occurred one evening when I went to take a
shower. As I pulled back the shower-curtain and stepped into the bath
one of Auntie's stockings fluttered down from where it was hanging on
the curtain-rail to dry and alighted on my naked body. I shuddered with
delight as the slinky nylon slid across my sensitive skin. Cautiously I
removed the stocking from my body and examined the delicate piece of
hosiery.

The long garment was cut to the shape of the leg it was designed to
encase and sewn together with a back-seam. The toe and heel sections of
the stocking were reinforced with darker nylon. The majority of the
stocking was made of flesh-toned sheer nylon with a darker two-inch band
near the top, which I had leaned from the fashion magazines was called a
'shadow welt' and above that was the larger reinforced stocking-top,
called the welt. This band of reinforced nylon at the top of the
stocking was constructed of doubled over nylon with a 'keyhole' near the
base of the welt. In antique script the word 'Aristoc' was printed on
the dark nylon welt.

The appearance and texture of the garment was fascinating; I rubbed it
against my cheek and, as expected, my member began to thicken. I rubbed
the gossamer hosiery over my body until ultimately I slid it over my now
fully erect penis. I shuddered with excitement and stroked my erection,
now sheathed in the diaphanous stocking, and with my other hand I
caressed my scrotum which I had encased in the remainder of the stocking.

Needless to say that in a few seconds a ball of white semen formed in
the material of the stocking as I ejaculated into it. After a few
seconds of absolute terror when I realised that I had just soiled my
Aunt's stocking with my ejaculate and had probably put a ladder in it
too, I stopped panicking and closely inspected the stocking and
discovered that other than slightly distending the nylon where I had
stretched it over my penis it was not damaged. I carefully rinsed the
garment and patted it dry with my towel and hung it up next to its
companion.

I scrutinised the stockings hanging on the curtain rail with a critical
eye and could not distinguish any dissimilarity between them. I breathed
a sigh of relief and made a vow then and there that I would never be so
foolish again. I kept the vow for three whole days.