Her First Pair of Stockings

Memories of being a gas station attendant.

One of the things I notice about getting old is that I think a lot about the past. Back in the 'day', we didn't grow up so fast, we didn't act like adults till we were in our late teens. Our parents wouldn't allow adult behavior or clothing till we were 18 or 19. I've built this story around something that happened to me while working in a gas station after I got out of the Navy.

Everyone in this story is over 18.

The bell 'dinged' twice, letting me know someone had pulled up to the pumps. It was a new '57 Chevy, with two women at the high-test pump. As I got close to the driver's window, I heard "filler up please". I found the fill cap hidden behind a chrome 'door' in the tail fin of the Chevy, started the pump, and moved on to clean the windshield. Bent over the fender with squeegee in hand, I had a good view of both women's legs, one of the 'perks' of working in a gas station. Both had their skirts were over their knees, not too far over, but just enough. I could see they were talking but couldn't hear what was being said. The younger one flipped her skirt up a bit and slipped her hand under the top band, and stroked her thigh. After they left I started thinking about what I saw and what they might have been talking about. I imagine it was like this.

Stockings, I'll never forget the feel of them on my legs, snug, tight, and when I slide my hand inside the top band, it was so delicious.

This was one of my first times wearing stockings. A few days ago they were a birthday gift from my mother. She said that I was now old enough to dress like the woman I now was.

We were out shopping, and Mom stopped for gas, and as it was, a guy came out to pump the gas. The gas station man would start the gas, check under the hood, and clean the windshield.

This guy is cleaning the windshield, and I'm watching him watching me and my mom. I was wearing a new summer dress with a petticoat and a half slip under it, as he cleaned the windshield, I inched the skirt up a little bit at a time. Running my hand over my leg, feeling how smooth my nylons were, and discovering how that made me feel.

He saw that.

When I had the hem above the band at the top of my stockings, I slipped my hand inside the band and moved my hand around, rubbing my leg. I love the tight, snug feel of the stockings, and then my hand moving over my leg, it's so....

He could see my leg to within inches of my panty and one of the straps that fastened to the stocking top to hold them up. The straps were stretchy and elastic; they tugged on the stockings; there were four of them on a belt around my waist. Mom said that I had to put all this on before I put my underpants on for convenience, she said.

I felt so grown up wearing everything, the stockings, the belt with the strap things holding them up. Mom even bought me a new panty, grownup girl panty she said. It's so soft and smooth, and the color, it's almost like the dark wine Mom and Daddy drink. I can hardly wait to show Daddy.

"Darlene, put your skirt down, now! That boy can see all you own! Gee, you're not a little girl anymore, you're a woman. Act like it. "

"But Mom, what?"

"We'll talk about this later when we get home."

The boy is still looking at me. Mom is trying to get his attention, waving money to pay for the gas. He's still looking. Then he notices, turning towards Mom, taking the money from her hand. Now he's looking at her, not me.

"I'll be right back with your change, Mam."

"That's alright, son, you keep it, you did a good job."

She's playing with the hem of her skirt, not lifting it, just moving it around, shifting the hem between her fingers, and he's looking at her legs. They keep talking, what are they talking about? I can't hear, just a murmur like bees on a flower bed. Oh, now she's fingering the top button on her blouse. She'd slipped the button out of the buttonhole and was twisting it between her fingers.

"Were you watching Darlene? That's how you talk to boys and men; show them nothing but promise that in the next minute, all will be revealed. They'll be so distracted that they won't hear a thing you say. Men are so visual."

"I, uh, gee Mom, I could see what you were doing but I don't think I understand."

" There is a lot to understand. First, nothing was going on, and nothing was going to happen, especially with that boy. You saw how he was so enthralled, so wrapped up in the moment. Like all men, his dick is connected directly to his brain. By the time he gets home, he'll think we had sex, and just thinking about it, he'll be able to get off several times. The thought will keep him happy for years to come. He's probably running a mental movie through his head right now. The next time we stop for gas, he'll fall all over himself to help us."

"You need a lot of practice, and soon it will become second nature to you. Always remember, you control the situation. First, no touching, never let them touch you. You can promise, but never let them touch you. It's going to be fun teaching you to flirt."

Am I supposed to know about flirting? Flirting, it sounds so. well, delicious, and, well, I have been thinking more and more about how I feel and what I look like. I wear dresses and skirts more often when going out and about. Pants, pretty much stay at home now.