Mrs Taylor's Stockings

MRS TAYLOR'S STOCKINGS

I was just approaching by twentieth birthday when Dad died. And, it has to be admitted, by his own hand, although he wasn't being reckless at all. He'd made one of those minor misjudgements that normally one gets away with nine hundred and ninety-nine times out of one thousand, but tragically this was that one thousandth time. And as his death was officially attributed to his own error, Mum never received any pay out of any real magnitude.

So, she sold the family home, downsizing to a much smaller dwelling, which at least meant that she could clear the mortgage and buy the new home outright. Considerably reducing her monthly outgoings, but it did require some adjustment to suit our new, tiny in comparison, home, but we coped.

One of major dis-advantages I far as I was concerned was the extra distance to my employment that this move entailed. At our previous address it had been feasible to walk to work, but that was clearly now impossible, the longer journey involved meant I had to travel to work by car. Fortunately, my apprenticeship had successfully come to a conclusion, with a large increase in salary resulting in me becoming fully qualified, as an engineer. Although not specifically in automation technology, in other words cars, my general machinery knowledge and skill level meant I possessed a major advantage over 'Joe Average,' regarding car maintenance, able to perform many tasks myself that others would have to engage a professional mechanic to do for them. And naturally have to pay them for.

Anyway, one Saturday morning I was working upon my motor, lying on my back half underneath it, when one of our new neighbours, Mrs Helen Taylor popped around to meet, primarily Mum, I guess. As she passed by, I caught a perfect glimpse of her stocking covered legs, in fact I had managed to, quite unintentional of course, I believe the expression is 'upskirt' her. As I say, quite by pure accident, and I thought that she hadn't noticed at all. But she had!

She knocked upon our front door, answered by Mum, and they introduced themselves. And this was not the moment that she revealed that had noticed me 'clocking' her as it were, so leading me to fully believe that I'd got away with my indiscretion. Mum invited her in, and she stayed for several minutes, as they shared a cup of tea, and no doubt, had a good chat. Mum is a very sociable and friendly person by nature, and I assumed that Mrs Taylor was too. I was just finishing up when she left to return to her own home, having also issued her greetings to me.

Now despite being roughly the same age, fast approaching fifty years old, there was a vast difference in Mum and Helen Taylor's general appearance. Mum had never been a 'looker' for instance and recently she'd let herself go to some degree; the famous 'middle age' spread had fully taken hold of her. She'd never, well to my knowledge anyway, dressed herself sexually, indeed my own existence being the only actual evidence I had that Dad and her had ever partaken in the activity. She had never been one for lingerie for example, and my accidental glimpse of Mrs Taylor's stockings had been first view of such items 'in situ' as it were.

Completely different from Helen Taylor. She was simply stunning, had really taken care of her appearance, and dressed accordingly. Ok, she was no spring chicken, and age had robbed her of some of her natural beauty, but there still plenty more to go around. She could, with full justification, be described as sexy, somewhat older, yes, but she'd still 'got it.' be in no doubt of that fact. As my brief view of her legs had confirmed.

And then there was me. Obviously, I'd lived quite a sheltered life when it came to the 'pleasures of the flesh.' And I was naturally low in self-confidence when it came to women, with very little experience in-between the sheets as it were. Although not an ugly bugger, I was certainly no 'stud,' and girls were definitely not queuing up to go out with me. With sex being so low key as far as my parents were concerned, it was quite near the bottom of my list of priorities.

However, sexual action was very near the other end of the scale when it came to the predatory Helen Taylor. Like Mum she was a widow, but one who wasn't averse to liaisons with Gentlemen who were considerable younger than herself, me for example. And, from catching me in the act of that very brief glimpse I'd enjoyed of her nylon coated legs, this extremely astute lady had made two deductions that I probably wasn't even aware of myself. That I simply adored sheer nylon stockings and when it came to sex, I was quite submissive, fully ready for a dominant woman to control and mould her way. Somebody like Helen Taylor, for instance. How would she make her move, though?

Her chosen route was through my knowledge of cars. During that chat with Mum the subject had arisen, and she gleamed all that she needed to know. Towards the end of that week, Mum asked me if I would be willing to pop around Mrs Taylor's, which is how Mum referred her to as, house on the following Saturday morning and have a look at her car. Which apparently wasn't running well, and there was no rush, she wasn't needing to use it on the Friday. I told Mum I'd be delighted, looking forward to seeing her, although I'd being seeing a lot more of her than I'd bargained for!

Of course, what I didn't know that Helen was no mug herself when it came to cars, and had deliberately fitted a dodgy spark plug to her engine, meaning it was running on only three out the four cylinders. Now I didn't report to her place, just down the road from Mum's, until late in the morning, like most working males of my age, I consumed several beers down the nearest pub, another dis-advantage of the move was that I'd needed to find a different 'local,' to drink in. But it didn't take long to find her apparent 'fault,' so I fixed it quickly.

As I went inside of the house to give her the news, totally unaware that she was putting the next part of her plan into action, although she had no intention of getting me into her bed just yet. Because she was simply wearing a 'T' shirt on her top half, with no bra moulding her shapely breast and some skimpy panties, satin, which were very minimal. Now if that sounds feasible, and would appear to back up her claims that I'd taken a lot less time than she'd expected and had 'caught her by surprise,' remember she'd introduced the 'fault' herself, then how does one explain the presence of very sheer stockings upon her legs together with a beautiful and lacy suspender belt holding them up? No, she was dressed exactly like this by design and believe me, she achieved her desired result.

Firstly, she had completely fooled the utterly naïve me, and I totally accepted her explanation of her state of dress, or maybe that should be undress. Almost open-mouthed at her appearance, although she made no comment about that. I was struggling to make my 'report' as to what I'd found in regard to her car. But having done so, and declining politely any offer of payment, I quickly retired to the privacy of my own bedroom, after washing my hands naturally, and indulged in a very vigorous 'five knuckled shuffle.' Such was the effect of the sight of the very scantily clad Helen Taylor had on me, especially her shapely legs covered in sheer nylon. Yes, just as she'd planned and hoped for, of course.

Thus, for possibly the first time in my life I really began to see a woman, any woman, in a sexual sense, beginning to have real desires, and Helen's aims for me were due to receive a large slice of good fortune.

For on the weekend after the immediate one following, Mum was due to spend it away, with a good friend of hers. Meaning that I was alone in the house from early on the Saturday morning. Offering to cook me a 'thank you' meal on the Saturday evening as I had declined her offer of monetary payment, she even came around to make the offer in person, directly asking me herself. Adorned in a beautiful leather suit, with a skirt just long enough to conceal the fact that the sheer nylon upon her legs was in the form of stockings, not that I ever doubted it, I knew enough about her by now, complete with a sexy satin royal blue blouse underneath the matching jacket. Very much dressing to impress, an aim that she totally achieved, believe me. As you can all imagine, I was only too pleased to accept, and during the time the followed until that Saturday evening I began to, possibly for the first real time in my life, harbour carnal thoughts and desires about a woman, in particular Helen Taylor. Beginning to obtain my first inklings that those desires weren't necessarily travelling within a one-way street. And after all, if she was willing to totally ignore our respective age difference, then who was I to argue?

When that evening eventually arrived and believe me the excitement had ramped up inside of me by then, Helen was dressed in exactly the same manner, although she swiftly removed the jacket, claiming with some justification it must be said, the high ambient temperature in her kitchen pushed her into doing so. And if she was taking me to her bed, which by now I fervently hoped for, she planned to make me wait until after we'd eaten the meal she was presently cooking!

Well, she proved to be as skilled in the kitchen as I hoped she'd be in the bedroom for the home-made lasagne was cooked to perfection. Washed down by a beautiful bottle of chianti red wine, Italian to match the excellent food. It was almost worth her making me wait. Because Helen had already determined that she was going to end up in bed with me, but at this stage I didn't yet KNOW that!

She however did, and she wasted very little time after we had finished eating when I found out that it was my destiny to end up in her boudoir. As I assisted her to move the crockery and cutlery to the kitchen side top, her stocking leg brushed, deliberately I'm now certain of, against mine, suddenly I felt my lips being attacked, yes, I believe that is the right word, by her own. A kiss that was full of passion and intensity, making her intentions for me crystal clear!

And when she finally broke the kiss? "Best get those jeans off if you really want to feel how good the nylon on my legs feels! Because you've wanted to ever since you saw them that time when you were working on your car, the first time I called at your Mum's house!" So, she HAD clocked me then? "Yes, I did see that look upon your face, but don't be ashamed, without that we wouldn't about to ascend my stairs up to my bed. Because yes Darling, THAT is where we're now going!"

After backing off a little to give herself some room, Helen undid the belt of her skirt, and boy, did she make a show of wriggling out of it or what? As if I wasn't turned on enough? She then stood still for a few seconds, in just her blouse, with her legs encased in nylon, and the suspenders that held them up on full view. It was almost a dis-appointment when the blouse, like most of her gear manufactured in shimming satin, came off, as it hugged and simply emphasised her stunning figure. Mind you, the utterly provocative manner in which she did remove it made it all worth-while after all, this lady was putting on a REAL show, she knew exactly how to increase my excitement levels to be almost unbearable!

The removal of my own clothing was conducted in nowhere near the same stylish manner, but it was completed however, as it needed to be. Soon I was completely naked, and she was just suspender clad, the black satin bra and very skimpy panties removed. We were ready!

Taking my hand in her own, Helen Taylor almost pulled me up her stairs, although I wasn't unwilling at all. But when we reached the top, she suggested that we visit her bathroom first, after all we had eaten, and her words made sense. Being a 'Gentleman' I allowed her to go first, proceeding straight to her bedroom afterwards where she was waiting for me.

Grabbing hold of my head, initiating another passionate kiss, during which Helen almost pulled me onto her bed, and the serious sex began. It became quite obvious that that I possessed very little in the way of both knowledge or experience, but this was more than made up by my partner's abilities, and I, very sensibly allowed her to set the pace as it were.

Now THAT was a very smart move, because Helen used all of that experience, and let's face it, skill, to ensure that a good night was had by all. Yes, she treated me to an outstanding time, bringing me to several exciting and thoroughly enjoyable climaxes, whilst helping herself to a good few too. But there was more to come, she had a secret desire to see wanted to enact, she wanted to take away my freedom and tie me to her bed. Although she didn't attempt to action this dream of hers that night, as we agreed to stop, with exhaustion rapidly replacing exhilaration and excitement for both of us, she dropped a real hint. Grabbing my arms and holding then above my head, and with herself now lying on top of my form, she looked me straight into my eyes, and gently said, "tomorrow, Darling, I'm going to tie you securely to this bed. So, I'll be able to do anything I like to you, and there'll be NOTHING you can do to stop me! Up for it?"

She'd correctly guessed that the thought excited me beyond belief, although such was my sexual inexperience at the time the idea had never occurred to me, I knew nothing of the art of bondage. But, with Helen having mentioned it, the prospect took NO time in cementing itself inside of my head, with me fully realising that I did, in fact, relish the thought of being totally helpless and held within the sexuality of this remarkable woman. "Yes, VERY much 'up for it' Helen. I take it you'll be showing me NO mercy?"

"Count on it, Darling, COUNT ON IT!" The reply I received. "But we'd both better get some sleep now, believe me you're going to need it!" She added. And we both so shattered by now, after the frantic sex that we'd enjoyed, largely done to her efforts I'll willingly admit, to sleep we both promptly fell.

When I awoke, revived to a large degree, I did so alone in Helen's bed, but I could hear the shower in her bathroom running, and guessed, correctly, that's where she was. Shortly afterwards, a clearly rejuvenated Helen returned to her bedroom, suggesting that I perform the same act myself. Which I was only pleased to do. When it was my turn to come back to her, having toileted as well as showering, there she was standing there looking even more sexy, if that was possible. Now she was wearing a wonderful satin basque, which showed her full figure just like her blouse had done, and it was clear that the stockings that it suspended were both clean and fresh. In fact, the ones she had discarded were still in view, little did I know that she had plans for them. However, in her hands now I could see some silk bondage ties, and I remembered how the conversation had finished last night. Which brought a wry smile to my face, the idea of being Helen Taylor's helpless sex slave did appeal, to a very large degree!

Suddenly here voice rang out, "ON THE BED! NOW!" This was a tone that defied any dis-obedience and therefore didn't receive any. I climbed onto her bed, and lay down, placing myself into a central position. "Spread yourself out!" In a slightly softer and less demanding tone. Although naturally I complied again.

Helen was swiftly by where my left hand was almost touching her upper bedframe, quickly looping my wrist in such a manner than suggested she knew exactly what she was doing. Afterwards she then tied the remainer of the tie around the nearby outer bedpost of said frame, again she was confident in her business. With good reason, this was a perfectly safe, in terms of blood circulation for instance, but utterly secure bond, there was no way I could escape unaided. Except by using my other hand perhaps? However, Helen soon resolved the question mark posed by that by moving to the other side of her bed and repeating the whole process in the same safe but absolutely secure manner. This was it then, now I couldn't release myself at all, now I totally belonged to Helen Taylor's bed, and therefore, if not in a final form, to Helen Taylor herself. And didn't she just know it? I WAS NOW HERS!

But that wasn't the end of her plans for me. Remember those previously worn, by her, stockings and suspender belt? Well, she had intentions for them, that did not immediately include putting them into her washing machine. No, she had a different destination in mind, my legs! Grabbing them off the floor she approached the bed, holding them with a dirty mischievous, smile upon her lovely face. "Now my Darling, I believe that you made it clear that you just love these items of clothing upon my legs, um? But have you ever considered how good they'd feel DIRECTLY against your own skin? No? Well, I think it's time you found out! And not just any stockings, but THESE stockings. As you know, I was wearing them myself, so not only do they have my scent all over them, but these are also MRS TAYLOR'S STOCKINGS!"

There was something of a 'ring' to what she'd just described the stockings as that completely swept away any reservations I might have had regarding the placing onto my own body of what are labelled items of purely female clothing. Anyway, if she really had it in mind, and I believed fully that she did, what could I do to stop her?

"Yes, Mrs Taylor, anyway I can't stop you putting those on me!"

"Mrs Taylor, eh? I rather like you calling me that, in fact for the rest of this time, please continue. I was going to insist, as I'm now your supreme mistress on you addressing me as such, by calling me 'Mistress,' but 'Mrs Taylor' sounds SO respectful and masterful, or should that be 'mistressful,' that I've now changed my mind. So, continue to call me Mrs Taylor."

"Yes, Mrs Taylor."

"Oh, that does sound SO good! But we digress, it's time your legs were coated in nylon!" She then slipped the belt over my feet and up legs, which I held together in a spirit of full co-operation, into position around my waist. Followed by putting both of my feet and ankles into the nylon material but once she'd fitted the stockings that far, she ceased.

It was only a temporary stoppage though, as she now picked up her ties and completed the spread-eagled capture of my body, by binding my ankles to the lower bedposts of the bed frame there. Thus, finishing the fastening of me to her bedroom furniture, if I wasn't hers before, which of course I was, I was now to the ultimate degree. God was I excited or what, I was purely the sexual property of this exceptional lady! Although perhaps not yet in the final form, she had yet to complete the fitting of those stockings.

Could she have done so in a more teasing and tantalising manner? I ready don't think so, during all the time whilst the nylon slowly moved up my legs my balls and TOTALLY erect cock were played with constantly by my tormenter, using one of hers or her tongue. But she was very careful NOT to push thing TOO far, always keeping below that delicious point. BITCH!

Eventually though, stocking met suspender, and this particular torture came to a welcome, for the bound me anyway, end, as Helen stopped and fastened the clasps. With me full of pent-up sexual frustration she stood up, almost as if admiring her handiwork. A young man, in this case me, fully secured to her bed, adorned in her stockings, and completely at her mercy, ready for her to ravish in any manner that she chose. Oh yes, she had wanted this for SO long!

"Ready to be shagged? I certainly hope so, because that is what I fully intend to do to you now. I'm going to shag you backwards, forwards, and any other direction that you can think of! And said sex will be cold, hard and above all, RAW! I'm going to keep you 'at it' until you can take no more, and beg, yes BEG, me to stop. When I'll just look at you, laugh and demand yet more sex from you. And also, I'm planning to do all of this with you in the dark, as it were." With that her hand reached under the single pillow upon which my head rested and emerged clutching a blindfold. One of those proper ones that allowed no light to penetrate, as I soon discovered when Helen then placed it into position, over my eyes. And then, with a final, "you look so delicious like that," she climbed onto my bound and helpless body, and she set about the bound and utterly helpless me!

Good lord, didn't she just! Ok so up until that point I possessed virtually no sexual experience, except that which I had gained with Helen last night, and that had been good, but now she was holding absolutely nothing back. With me completely unable to interfere in any way, but why would I have wished to? No, I was in the hands and power of a real 'sexpert' here, so I resolved to just take what she was subjecting me to and enjoy it. After all, it would be rude of me to interrupt a real master, or should that be mistress, of their chosen craft!

Because make no mistake that is what Helen Taylor most assuredly was. She skilfully took me to places I'd never even imagined, let alone been to, made me experience a whole host of new, delicious feelings, as she subjected me to her whole range of impressive sexual skills, rapidly leaving me wondering if I had died and actually was now a resident of heaven? Outstanding climax after outstanding climax was arrived at for both of us, with the majority of them, completely down to Helen's exceptional abilities with respect to the pleasures of the flesh, being absolutely simultaneous!

Now even for somebody as good as her there is a finite limit as to how long she can keep up this level of intensity, one must remember that not only she was much older than me, but her doing the majority of the 'work' here, and she began to approach it long before I did. But hadn't she promised to keep me going until I begged her to stop? She simply changed tactics, that's all, laying down beside me and simply using her hands thereby keeping me active, whilst preserving much of her strength and stamina. Therefore, she was able to achieve her aim of taking beyond the limits of my endurance, and I was forced, as she wanted, to admit defeat to her, and beg her for mercy!

Helen lifted the blindfold, note that she didn't remove it completely, and I found myself staring into her luscious, blue eyes, as she almost screamed out the word, "NO!" But then in a much softer and far more gentle tone, she added, "but it'll just be the once Darling, and I'm going to allow us both quite a period of rest before I enforce that. Because I admit I'm virtually spent myself. But I have thoroughly enjoyed it, as I hope you have too?"

"Very much so, Mrs Taylor." Remembering to use the form of address that she had directed me to despite my shattered but fully exhilarated state. In a way being totally relieved at just what she had informed me her intentions were, yes, I was utterly spent, but I didn't want this, what had been the greatest time in my entire life to end just yet.

As I'm sure will not surprise any of you, Helen kept her word regarding every one of those promises. She did allow us both a period of rest, indeed during which, after she had restored my blindfold to its normal position, thus once again robbing me of my power of sight, she undid each one of my bonds, one by one and moving the respective limb about before returning it into captivity, in order, I guess, to minimise the chances of cramp setting in.

Thus, when she initiated that final shag of the day both of us had regained some of our strength, and this combined with us knowing it was THE final time, allowed the intensity to return to the outstanding levels present right at the beginning of this, utterly unforgettable, session. Once more her bedroom became full of screams of the utmost pleasure, as ecstasy fully claimed us again. And then, true to her word, Helen released me from her bed, and we cuddled ourselves to some much-needed sleep.

******

Whilst I still see Helen Taylor on a regular basis, and let's face it shag her, although to be totally accurate it is more a case of her shagging me, this is a relationship far more based on pure lust rather than any genuine feelings of real love. And although we continue to enjoy each other's body, with mine very often tied to her bed and my legs being covered in the sheer nylon of a pair of her stockings, there has never been any suggestion of moving in together or making things a more permanent arrangement. Indeed, and bearing in mind our respective age difference, Helen has stated that she would willingly step aside if I should meet a girl of my own age group with whom I wish to settle down with and possibly marry. But in the meantime, I'm perfectly happy to continue with Helen as we are, I mean what could be better, regular fantastic sex, but without the responsibilities that come with a 'normal' relationship? And she prefers it this way too.

By now Mum has come to know just what Helen Taylor and I have been up to, well she's in total ignorance about the bondage and stockings part of the equation, but she knows our 'relationship' involves rampant sex between us. And, while I suppose as is only natural for a parent, what she wants in the long run is for me to marry, providing her with grandchildren, please bear in mind here that I'm her only child, she does like the friendly Helen very much, and reluctantly I guess, accepts our sexual liaison. She is also fully aware of that aforementioned promise of Helen's upon the event of Mum's dream for me, if not necessarily that of my own desires, coming to fruition. After all, if at some time in the future I am to have a child myself, I need to know precisely what are the processes involved, and as she will be first to admit, she's not a glowing example herself, is she?

But to think, maybe this whole affair wouldn't have even commenced in the first place, if I hadn't clocked that, totally accidental, glimpse of,

MRS TAYLOR'S STOCKINGS.