Hysteria
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PANTYHOSE HYSTERIA free porn video
Polly’s hysterical fetish for crossdressing unlocks the instinctive desires of a friend.
Since my boyfriend’s grandad was celebrating his birthday at his local, it was suggested by friends that I should do my little routine. I would often perform it at gatherings. It was often fun. So there I was, on a little stage in the corner of the pub, the guests watching me do my comedy tap dance routine to a crude plinky plonk piano to the song Tea for Two. Naturally, I was dressed for the occasion in my shiny, long sleeve black Lycra leotard, black fishnets over high gloss suntan tights, tap shoes and a short jacket. (Not forgetting my glossy black bobbed wig and immaculate makeup) There I was, biting my lip, whenever I purposely lost my balance, making the guests laugh. My boyfriend Kev and his best friend, John was there. Every now and again the light captured the tinge of my leotard arse as I wiggled, or the high shine of my tights when I kicked my legs. It was a successful evening, apart from Kev, who got pissed up as usual and made a dick of himself. John and I had to help him my house. We dumped him on the bed, let him sleep it off, while we went downstairs.
In the kitchen I offered John tea. It must have seemed a strange sight, as I hadn’t changed out of my cabaret outfit. I hummed ‘Polly Put the Kettle on.’ ‘One lump or two?’ I called over my shoulder, as I swayed my hips from left to right. When I turned round I was surprised to see John leering at me. ‘Actually,’ I smiled, ‘I know a song about tea.’ In a slow, sissy way, I delicately sang ‘Tea for two.’
‘Kev’s so fucking lucky,’ John leered.
Placing a hand high on my waist and arching my knee, I looked at John in the sassiest way imaginable.
‘Kev’s a fucking embarrassment,’ I pouted. ‘Everywhere he goes, he talks shit, humiliates himself in front of everyone. Literally no-one likes him.’
‘Except you,’ said John.
‘As I said, literally no-one.’
‘So why are you even with him? I’ve always wanted to know that.’
I paused and smirked. To be honest I was feeling a little tipsy.
‘Maybe because he spoils me and buys me luxury tights. Maybe, I used him to get to you,’ I said.
I slowly stepped over to John and placed my hands on his broad shoulders. ‘Maybe I’m not your kind of girl.’
John glanced down at the shiny leotard bulge in my leotard.
‘I don’t know of any guy at that party watching you tonight who would have had a soft cock. Those glossy legs, that slutty expression and that fucking arse!’ he said.
‘Glad you noticed. At that smelly geriatric club, I wanted you to notice. When I poured my arse into this leotard and smiled in the mirror, when I smoothed my hands over my arse, I thought of you. Strange, with an arse like mine, you would think that Kev would prefer me to be the bottom,’ I smouldered.
John’s hands caressed my arse, as I smirked. We heard the swish of his hands on my leotard as we looked at each other. The atmosphere was electrifying. I stepped forward on one foot and we exchanged a soft peck.
‘I bet your arsehole is tight,’ said John.
‘I certainly hope your massive hard cock finds out,’ I said, looking at him knowingly. We tightly clinched and kissed strongly for twenty minutes.
‘I think our tea’s gone cold,’ said John.
‘Fuck the tea!’ I exclaimed, prompting another session of deep intense kissing, while my loser of a bf was upstairs. Ever since Kev first introduced John, as his work colleague, his supervisor in fact, I thought that he had the face I instinctively wanted to sit on. I imagined squashing his nose under my sexy, silky, bum-hugging outfits. Nose fucking me. I thought about his hard cock in my throat and his spunk up my arse.
We retreated to the living room, where John took me on his lap, smoothing his hands over my crossed, nylon legs, as we carefully, deeply, slowly kissed. ‘I can get used to this,’ smiled John, in between our sultry pecks. I felt his hand circling the tight sheen of my pert arse, making a soft swishy sound over my skintight leotard. I even felt his hard bulge against one of my nylon buttocks. Fuck me, I wanted this hunk.
‘Fuck, I love your tights. I love your legs in tights. I love wearing tights. I love stealing tights. I love sniffing tights,’ John panted, in between our treacherous smooch.
I cupped the back of his head and looked into his eyes, with a sexy, fuck-me smirk. ‘Is that so, my perverted darling?’ I whispered. I carefully stood up and peered into my bag. I’m sure I was giving John a perfect view of the stretch of my skintight leotard over my arse. ‘Let’s see what we have in here. I usually carry spares, in case of a ladder,’ I smiled, looking over my shoulder at John. ‘Of course in my room I have hundreds of pairs of tights. It’s a pity that loser is up there.’ I fished out a scrunched up pair of glossy black tights. I unrolled them and held them out, stretching the waistband. ‘Hm, no ladders but I wore them every day this week. Since you claim that you love wearing tights, you’d have no objection to wearing these, but they may be too tight.’
‘I don’t care,’ said John. ‘Give them here.’
I giggled as I dangled the tights over his face. John started sniffing them. ‘They must be stinky,’ I giggled. ‘Doesn’t it bother you that I probably farted in them?’ I whispered into his ear curiously.
He sniffed harder. ‘Oh darling! You’re sniffing my smelly, smelly tights,’ I said, emphasising the ‘s’ sound. ‘I can’t wait to let you sniff my bag of used tights.’
John instinctively stretched the tights tightly over his head, immediately distorting his expression and adding a tight sheen. I couldn’t stop smoothing my hands on his face, studying his encased features with fascination. His whispers sounded deliciously menacing, as he said how he wanted to split me in half, bugger me senseless, cum over my face in a shiny stocking, and to leave Kev for him. He reckoned that I was a secret nylon slut, a dirty sissy and he reckoned that there was nothing I wouldn’t let a man do to me. What’s more he had his hard cock out. My hand automatically gripped his length, as if it were second nature, as I looked in his encased eyes and, in a cool, whisper seethed that he was correct, that I was proud of being a nylon sissy. In fact, I told him, a few years ago, I used to suck the cocks of the pissheads behind the bus station. I’d pay them in booze. ‘I’d wear my riding helmet or a tiara or my bad girl short wig, whatever, and they’d spunk over my face. Or I’d wank two cocks off at once. Once I stashed some cash in the back of my tights and said it was theirs, if they came all over my arse, all over the stash, glimmering through my tights. My ex didn’t have a clue. There I was bent over, my lame voice saying ‘tights’ as the pissheads drenched the cash through my shiny tights. So yeah, I’ll leave my boyfriend for you. But I want to be there when we tell him, as well. Encased in tights.’
John let this information settle behind his tight mask, before clutching me, and sharing a very deep, passionate kiss. I was practically chewing his nylon lips. Meanwhile I was wanking him off. Our kissing was so vigorous that my wig slid off, but that made us more passionate. I wanked harder and harder, as I whispered into his nylon face that I would leave Kev for him, and I would be his girl, his Polly girl. I’d be the girl of his dreams, more of a slut than any slut had ever been, the slut he deserved and I’d dress the part, and in his stocking masks he’d be the kinky, hunky perverted thug I’d always wanted. John was getting close. He removed his mask and stretched it tightly over my head and asked me to suck his cock. It was my pleasure. I placed my nylon mouth over his prick and wanked him into my nylon mouth. All the while I looked searchingly into his eyes. ‘You’re my man, John! My man! I’ll dress for you and tease the others but it’ll be your cock that goes in my mouth and up my arse. I will squash and smother your face under my smelly pantyhose arse, darling,’ I said. ‘Hm I love your cock! Cock! Cock!’ John couldn’t take it. He piped his hot spunk in my nylon mouth and in fact, all over my nylon face and head, as I gushed into the crotch of my leotard. After we recovered I took my stocking off and curled up in his arms. We laughed as we heard the sound of poor Kev, snoring upstairs.
2.
As his supervisor, John was able to put Kev on a 2-10 shift, while he worked from 6-2, giving us enough time for him to come round and conduct our kinky affair. It also helped us prepare to confront Kev with the kinky truth. We had spent most of the afternoon, after slow dancing, slowly and deeply kissing through our super tight and shiny stocking masks (him in black, me in a double shimmery honey) as my favourite seduction song ‘Queer’ by Garbage was playing on repeat. We were both completely encased in shiny tights, him in glossy black and me in thick honey. We looked so self-satisfied between our kisses. It was a thrill, exchanging our treacherous nylon kisses, while Kev was breaking his back at work for John. Oh the sound of the nylon friction as our lips parted and locked deeply, as my nylon arms were around his broad shoulders and my hands caressed the back of my lover’s glossy head.
‘Oh darling, I can’t wait to see the look on his face when we tell him the truth,’ I almost squealed, as we paused.
‘Are you sure it’s what you want?’ said John.
‘Are you k**ding me?’ I said, the cheeky twitch of my nose and my smile stretching my glimmering mask, as we fell into another long, deep kissing session. To be honest John had talked me out of confronting Kev on his birthday, as I wanted to give Kev a birthday treat he’d never forget. But John couldn’t wait months and months to move in with me, and neither could I. John knew as well as I did that, now we had found each other, we couldn’t imagine not being in each other’s shiny nylon arms. It was unthinkable to deny this luxury to ourselves. I shifted my position, squatting down and grabbed his tight nylon cock. I wanked him off for a while, gritting my teeth, before I pushed my encased mouth over his encased cock and bobbed up and down on him, making om om om noises.
‘I’ll bet you’ve wrecked a few homes in your time,’ smirked John.
‘You’d love to believe that, yeah?’ I smiled, thinking back to that sweet retired couple who had given me a place to stay when I was down on my luck. His wife’s face when she walked in on her husband and I, seeing my smeared lipstick and my wig half-way down my face, due to me hysterically sucking her husband’s hard cock through his wife’s shiny control top tights. Right there. Me on all fours, on the table they had family Sunday roasts on. Wonder what she made of me wearing my royal blue satin deluxe tights, and five inch heels, my arse poking out. I even told him that I’d heard she’d be out all day but of course I knew she’d only popped out. Still, it was too late to prevent her husband flooding the shiny control panel of his tights, which I sucked up, as I reached around, caressing and trying to finger my own arse through the fabric.
After sucking John’s cock for a while, I turned round, got on all fours and said ‘I need you to shag me.’ John tore a small hole in the back of my shiny tights, took his solid cock out and pushed it up me. He grabbed my hips and slapped his nylon thighs against my shimmery arse. My encased sultry face stared over my shoulder, at his encased determination.
‘You’re a bad little bitch!’ John seethed. ‘Take it, you fucking, two-timing, crazy bitch!’
‘Oh darling! Ooh, there’s only you! I wouldn’t ever two time you. Honestly. I only wear tights for you!’ my encased, faux innocent expression tried to express. John fucked me harder and harder. I bet he thought I was a lying bitch. It wasn’t just the sound of his hips slapping my arse but the squelching noise. It wasn’t just the squelch, I thought, but the smell. I tugged my stocking tight over my face. ‘John! John!’
‘Look at you! Wearing tights for other men. Acting like a cheap slut!’ he jeered. ‘Fucking encased! In tights! We’re fucking encased!’
‘Yes, darling! We’re encased! In tights! And I love it! The stretch, the shine, the gloss! And the fact that we’re encased in tights together while the loser is working rough shifts!’ I cried out hysterically.
‘Tell me how much you hate him?’ said John.
‘Every time your cock goes in and out of my arsehole, I hate him more, and love you more,’ I squealed, like the cheap whore I loved to be. ‘My man! My sissy man! My John! Oh! In tights! Oh our dear and delicious tights!’
John couldn’t take anymore. ‘Oh Polly! My fucking Polly!’ He filled me up to the brim with his cream. Some of it ran down my nylon buttocks and legs. After we recovered, I softly said that we ought to freshen up and prepare for Kev’s arrival. The tights on my legs were sopping wet, as I took them off and carefully hung them over a photo of Kev and his brother.
3.
As you’d expect Kev was surprised to see his clothes and things in bags, stacked up near the hallway to the front door, but perhaps more surprised to find John standing guard in the living room, encased head to toe in glossy black tights and a pair of my skintight black cycling shorts, which, I admit, were far too tight for him. I could hear them exchanging a few words of disagreement, as I got ready. I wasn’t worried about things getting ugly because Kev was a wimp and John was a hunk. One of the things that had my stroking my crotch over him, was how menacing he could look in a tight, stocking mask. Drove me wild. Always brought out the fey, hysterical slut in me.
I really couldn’t wait for them to see how I strangely I was dressed. I paused at the doorway, a hand on my hip. On my head was a horse riding helmet and a dark dressage jacket, whilst my riding boots were pulled over shiny double layered golden brown satin deluxe tights. That wasn’t the kinkiest part though.
Kev asked me what was happening. Was this a wind-up, why was everyone being weird? One hand on my hip I minced into the room, giving them both a view of my slow wiggling arse, bulging with screwed up panties and tights of different colours, each with their own delicate tinge.
‘Darling,’ I said. ‘It’s like this.’ I arched my leg, pouted and looked to one side, before eyeing him. ‘John and I have been having an affair. We’re still having an affair.’ I stepped over to John and caressed his smooth, tight arse in those Lycra shorts. ‘We are lovers actually.’ I turned to John and pressed a full peck on his nylon lips. We looked at Kev. ‘Now we want this house to ourselves, so if you could, like, kindly get the fuck out of our lives, we’d be most grateful.’ I felt John’s hand squeeze and pat my arse, mauling my soft, compressed bulges. I glanced at him with a smirk on my glossy red lips. Fuck, I love being his bitch.
Kev said that he couldn’t understand, he couldn’t believe it. I rolled my eyes.
‘I don’t want to debate it, dear, I just want you to go,’ I said, as I stroked and smoothed John’s lycra arse. Kev again said it couldn’t be true.
‘What’s it going to take for you to understand that John and I are lovers?’ I said. ‘ Will you only be satisfied when you see my mouth filled with his nylon encased cock, or when I’m closing my eyes in bliss, as he floods my arsehole with his hot spunk, which I later fart into my tights for days afterwards?’
I pressed my hand to my hip and looked at Kev as if he were another species.
‘I don’t get it,’ Kev squealed.
‘What is it that you don’t get? I used you. You got played. Get over it. I’ve been with others as well. Be honest with yourself, love, look at you and look at John. Now look at me. Why the fuck would I bore myself, staying with you when I could come home to this?’ I said, eyeing John with a private smirk. ‘I must admit that I’ll miss cheating on you,’ I added. ‘Still, be happy for me. I’ve found someone who adores me. With him I can truly be myself.’ John and I exchanged another deep peck. Fuck, I really, really got off on being a complete bitch to Kev in front of John.
‘But I can change,’ Kev pathetically suggested.
I shifted my weight from one leg to the other and sighed. I casually smoothed my hand over John’s chest, encased in glistening modified tights. Oh it was so tight and shiny! I ran my hands all over. I looked at Kev all the time that my hands were exploring John’s encased chest, stomach, thighs and legs. ‘What is it you think you can change?’ I said to Kev. ‘Your chest, your cock, your arse, your face? Your mind? Get real. Listen, just go.’ I turned. The boots made my awesome arse wiggle. ‘Escort the loser out,’ I called over my shoulder, knowing they were staring at how the light made the tight seat of bulging pantyhose glisten. As I caught my expression in the mirror on the landing I couldn’t help but laugh. I heard arguing voices. I could make out that Kev was trying to plead, as John tossed his bags out the door. I smiled at my reflection. ‘Polly put the kettle on,’ I sang. I leant forward and kissed my image. Then I got changed.
When John returned, I called him to the bedroom. ‘Can you believe it’s a swimsuit? Looks like a bodice really,’ I said, hands on hips, in the doorway. He couldn’t believe his eyes. I bought it in the sales for him. My outfit was advertised as a swimsuit, but with its padded bust and embroidered golden lace effect under the bust, it looked like lingerie. Really went well with my high gloss black tights and black buckle heels. ‘Like it?’ I said as I gave a twirl. From the back it looked like a black one piece swimsuit but from the front, ooh! There I was, my hands on the hips of my girly black swimsuit, my long glossy legs, my heels and a skintight shiny black stocking stretched over my head. But there was another addition. A huge dildo strapped over my crotch.
‘I’m going to fuck you so hard that you’ll be farting my name for a month,’ I seethed. Strewn around the room were tons of, in different shades and colours, my used tights. I grabbed a few pairs and giggled as I dangled them over his head. I beamed in bliss as I wiggled and pranced, with a few pairs around my shoulders, as I sang: ‘Tights, tights, tights!’ I made the most hysterical expressions through my mask, opening my mouth and darting my eyes around.
‘You’re fucking crazy!’ exclaimed John.
‘Ooh do you know? I probably am! That’s why your cock is hard as rock!’ I said, feeding a pair of tights between our noses, so we could sniff. ‘I never ever wash my tights,’ I confessed. ‘I wear them until they get plucked or ladder. I don’t believe that there’s anyone who’s obsessed about tights, as much as me. Oh tights!’
‘Oh Polly!’ he said, as we kissed deeply through our masks. His hands reached for my arse, and mine smoothed the stretch and sheen of his lycra shorts. This was more than encased lust, it was encased love. We kissed and kissed, long, slow, deep and nylon, as our heads were carefully tilted. After twenty slow sensual nylon minutes, I asked him to sit on my face, to squash my nose and mouth, under his gleaming tights and lycra shorts. He wasted no time. I caressed and sniffed deeply, smoothing his wide lycra rump. Inhaling his emerging sweat stain. Meanwhile John sniffed, licked and kissed my hard crotch. I then tore a small hole in his shorts and pressed my finger up his arse, through his tights. I bit my lip with effort as I frigged him. After a few intense moments, I asked John to turn over, and open his legs, pull his knees up, so I could look at his encased face while I shagged his curvy arse.
‘By the way, this is being filmed. Kev will get a special birthday delivery,’ I giggled, pushing my strapon up my encased lover. John had a dirty grin under the sheen of his stocking mask, as I hit a rhythm.
‘Fucking love shagging you! There’s nothing you can do about it. Your cock gets hard the moment you see my encased face, the moment you see my legs and arse in tights. Your body can’t help it,’ I cried. The swish of nylon, the creak and slam of the bed, blended with the squelch of the strapon up his tight arsehole.
‘It’s true! Oh, Polly! I can’t help it!’ he cried out, like the sissy he always wanted to be and the sissy he’d always been, from the moment he’d first fed his legs and arse into my used pair of tights, and fed his head into a silk stocking. These shared experiences had led us to this point: encased in bed together, in our glossy tights, fucking the sweat out of each other and begging for more.
‘Do you understand what you mean to me now, huh? You fucking understand? Take it! Take it! Take it in tights! In tights! In my tights! Go on, say ‘tights’, shout it!’ I seethed, grabbing the hem of his stocking with my hands and stretching it tighter over his face, using it as a grip.
‘Tights! Tights! In my tights!’ I heard his squashed, distorted cries.
‘You fucking loved it when I was such a bitch to him, huh? I wanted you to see what the wimp means to me, and what you mean to me! Tell me you fucking love me!’
‘Oh Polly, I love you! Oh!’
I leant my encased head forward, so it was almost touching his and whispered, ‘You know there’s nothing that I wouldn’t do for and to you, don’t you? I want you to have a really detailed think about that,’ I nodded. This revelation alone had John piping and flooding his tights, and me flooding my sexy bodice. We collapsed, and I let him take me in his arms, let him hold and keep me safe, my man.
‘Ooh almost forgot,’ I said, realising something. I reached over and took something from the bedside table.
‘What’s that?’ he said.
‘This,’ I said, holding up this lycra object, ‘is seat cover for my bicycle. I got them to print that picture I took of you.’
John studied it. On the white covering was a print of his encased face.
‘It means that whenever I go cycling, I can still sit on your face,’ I smiled.
Since my boyfriend’s grandad was celebrating his birthday at his local, it was suggested by friends that I should do my little routine. I would often perform it at gatherings. It was often fun. So there I was, on a little stage in the corner of the pub, the guests watching me do my comedy tap dance routine to a crude plinky plonk piano to the song Tea for Two. Naturally, I was dressed for the occasion in my shiny, long sleeve black Lycra leotard, black fishnets over high gloss suntan tights, tap shoes and a short jacket. (Not forgetting my glossy black bobbed wig and immaculate makeup) There I was, biting my lip, whenever I purposely lost my balance, making the guests laugh. My boyfriend Kev and his best friend, John was there. Every now and again the light captured the tinge of my leotard arse as I wiggled, or the high shine of my tights when I kicked my legs. It was a successful evening, apart from Kev, who got pissed up as usual and made a dick of himself. John and I had to help him my house. We dumped him on the bed, let him sleep it off, while we went downstairs.
In the kitchen I offered John tea. It must have seemed a strange sight, as I hadn’t changed out of my cabaret outfit. I hummed ‘Polly Put the Kettle on.’ ‘One lump or two?’ I called over my shoulder, as I swayed my hips from left to right. When I turned round I was surprised to see John leering at me. ‘Actually,’ I smiled, ‘I know a song about tea.’ In a slow, sissy way, I delicately sang ‘Tea for two.’
‘Kev’s so fucking lucky,’ John leered.
Placing a hand high on my waist and arching my knee, I looked at John in the sassiest way imaginable.
‘Kev’s a fucking embarrassment,’ I pouted. ‘Everywhere he goes, he talks shit, humiliates himself in front of everyone. Literally no-one likes him.’
‘Except you,’ said John.
‘As I said, literally no-one.’
‘So why are you even with him? I’ve always wanted to know that.’
I paused and smirked. To be honest I was feeling a little tipsy.
‘Maybe because he spoils me and buys me luxury tights. Maybe, I used him to get to you,’ I said.
I slowly stepped over to John and placed my hands on his broad shoulders. ‘Maybe I’m not your kind of girl.’
John glanced down at the shiny leotard bulge in my leotard.
‘I don’t know of any guy at that party watching you tonight who would have had a soft cock. Those glossy legs, that slutty expression and that fucking arse!’ he said.
‘Glad you noticed. At that smelly geriatric club, I wanted you to notice. When I poured my arse into this leotard and smiled in the mirror, when I smoothed my hands over my arse, I thought of you. Strange, with an arse like mine, you would think that Kev would prefer me to be the bottom,’ I smouldered.
John’s hands caressed my arse, as I smirked. We heard the swish of his hands on my leotard as we looked at each other. The atmosphere was electrifying. I stepped forward on one foot and we exchanged a soft peck.
‘I bet your arsehole is tight,’ said John.
‘I certainly hope your massive hard cock finds out,’ I said, looking at him knowingly. We tightly clinched and kissed strongly for twenty minutes.
‘I think our tea’s gone cold,’ said John.
‘Fuck the tea!’ I exclaimed, prompting another session of deep intense kissing, while my loser of a bf was upstairs. Ever since Kev first introduced John, as his work colleague, his supervisor in fact, I thought that he had the face I instinctively wanted to sit on. I imagined squashing his nose under my sexy, silky, bum-hugging outfits. Nose fucking me. I thought about his hard cock in my throat and his spunk up my arse.
We retreated to the living room, where John took me on his lap, smoothing his hands over my crossed, nylon legs, as we carefully, deeply, slowly kissed. ‘I can get used to this,’ smiled John, in between our sultry pecks. I felt his hand circling the tight sheen of my pert arse, making a soft swishy sound over my skintight leotard. I even felt his hard bulge against one of my nylon buttocks. Fuck me, I wanted this hunk.
‘Fuck, I love your tights. I love your legs in tights. I love wearing tights. I love stealing tights. I love sniffing tights,’ John panted, in between our treacherous smooch.
I cupped the back of his head and looked into his eyes, with a sexy, fuck-me smirk. ‘Is that so, my perverted darling?’ I whispered. I carefully stood up and peered into my bag. I’m sure I was giving John a perfect view of the stretch of my skintight leotard over my arse. ‘Let’s see what we have in here. I usually carry spares, in case of a ladder,’ I smiled, looking over my shoulder at John. ‘Of course in my room I have hundreds of pairs of tights. It’s a pity that loser is up there.’ I fished out a scrunched up pair of glossy black tights. I unrolled them and held them out, stretching the waistband. ‘Hm, no ladders but I wore them every day this week. Since you claim that you love wearing tights, you’d have no objection to wearing these, but they may be too tight.’
‘I don’t care,’ said John. ‘Give them here.’
I giggled as I dangled the tights over his face. John started sniffing them. ‘They must be stinky,’ I giggled. ‘Doesn’t it bother you that I probably farted in them?’ I whispered into his ear curiously.
He sniffed harder. ‘Oh darling! You’re sniffing my smelly, smelly tights,’ I said, emphasising the ‘s’ sound. ‘I can’t wait to let you sniff my bag of used tights.’
John instinctively stretched the tights tightly over his head, immediately distorting his expression and adding a tight sheen. I couldn’t stop smoothing my hands on his face, studying his encased features with fascination. His whispers sounded deliciously menacing, as he said how he wanted to split me in half, bugger me senseless, cum over my face in a shiny stocking, and to leave Kev for him. He reckoned that I was a secret nylon slut, a dirty sissy and he reckoned that there was nothing I wouldn’t let a man do to me. What’s more he had his hard cock out. My hand automatically gripped his length, as if it were second nature, as I looked in his encased eyes and, in a cool, whisper seethed that he was correct, that I was proud of being a nylon sissy. In fact, I told him, a few years ago, I used to suck the cocks of the pissheads behind the bus station. I’d pay them in booze. ‘I’d wear my riding helmet or a tiara or my bad girl short wig, whatever, and they’d spunk over my face. Or I’d wank two cocks off at once. Once I stashed some cash in the back of my tights and said it was theirs, if they came all over my arse, all over the stash, glimmering through my tights. My ex didn’t have a clue. There I was bent over, my lame voice saying ‘tights’ as the pissheads drenched the cash through my shiny tights. So yeah, I’ll leave my boyfriend for you. But I want to be there when we tell him, as well. Encased in tights.’
John let this information settle behind his tight mask, before clutching me, and sharing a very deep, passionate kiss. I was practically chewing his nylon lips. Meanwhile I was wanking him off. Our kissing was so vigorous that my wig slid off, but that made us more passionate. I wanked harder and harder, as I whispered into his nylon face that I would leave Kev for him, and I would be his girl, his Polly girl. I’d be the girl of his dreams, more of a slut than any slut had ever been, the slut he deserved and I’d dress the part, and in his stocking masks he’d be the kinky, hunky perverted thug I’d always wanted. John was getting close. He removed his mask and stretched it tightly over my head and asked me to suck his cock. It was my pleasure. I placed my nylon mouth over his prick and wanked him into my nylon mouth. All the while I looked searchingly into his eyes. ‘You’re my man, John! My man! I’ll dress for you and tease the others but it’ll be your cock that goes in my mouth and up my arse. I will squash and smother your face under my smelly pantyhose arse, darling,’ I said. ‘Hm I love your cock! Cock! Cock!’ John couldn’t take it. He piped his hot spunk in my nylon mouth and in fact, all over my nylon face and head, as I gushed into the crotch of my leotard. After we recovered I took my stocking off and curled up in his arms. We laughed as we heard the sound of poor Kev, snoring upstairs.
2.
As his supervisor, John was able to put Kev on a 2-10 shift, while he worked from 6-2, giving us enough time for him to come round and conduct our kinky affair. It also helped us prepare to confront Kev with the kinky truth. We had spent most of the afternoon, after slow dancing, slowly and deeply kissing through our super tight and shiny stocking masks (him in black, me in a double shimmery honey) as my favourite seduction song ‘Queer’ by Garbage was playing on repeat. We were both completely encased in shiny tights, him in glossy black and me in thick honey. We looked so self-satisfied between our kisses. It was a thrill, exchanging our treacherous nylon kisses, while Kev was breaking his back at work for John. Oh the sound of the nylon friction as our lips parted and locked deeply, as my nylon arms were around his broad shoulders and my hands caressed the back of my lover’s glossy head.
‘Oh darling, I can’t wait to see the look on his face when we tell him the truth,’ I almost squealed, as we paused.
‘Are you sure it’s what you want?’ said John.
‘Are you k**ding me?’ I said, the cheeky twitch of my nose and my smile stretching my glimmering mask, as we fell into another long, deep kissing session. To be honest John had talked me out of confronting Kev on his birthday, as I wanted to give Kev a birthday treat he’d never forget. But John couldn’t wait months and months to move in with me, and neither could I. John knew as well as I did that, now we had found each other, we couldn’t imagine not being in each other’s shiny nylon arms. It was unthinkable to deny this luxury to ourselves. I shifted my position, squatting down and grabbed his tight nylon cock. I wanked him off for a while, gritting my teeth, before I pushed my encased mouth over his encased cock and bobbed up and down on him, making om om om noises.
‘I’ll bet you’ve wrecked a few homes in your time,’ smirked John.
‘You’d love to believe that, yeah?’ I smiled, thinking back to that sweet retired couple who had given me a place to stay when I was down on my luck. His wife’s face when she walked in on her husband and I, seeing my smeared lipstick and my wig half-way down my face, due to me hysterically sucking her husband’s hard cock through his wife’s shiny control top tights. Right there. Me on all fours, on the table they had family Sunday roasts on. Wonder what she made of me wearing my royal blue satin deluxe tights, and five inch heels, my arse poking out. I even told him that I’d heard she’d be out all day but of course I knew she’d only popped out. Still, it was too late to prevent her husband flooding the shiny control panel of his tights, which I sucked up, as I reached around, caressing and trying to finger my own arse through the fabric.
After sucking John’s cock for a while, I turned round, got on all fours and said ‘I need you to shag me.’ John tore a small hole in the back of my shiny tights, took his solid cock out and pushed it up me. He grabbed my hips and slapped his nylon thighs against my shimmery arse. My encased sultry face stared over my shoulder, at his encased determination.
‘You’re a bad little bitch!’ John seethed. ‘Take it, you fucking, two-timing, crazy bitch!’
‘Oh darling! Ooh, there’s only you! I wouldn’t ever two time you. Honestly. I only wear tights for you!’ my encased, faux innocent expression tried to express. John fucked me harder and harder. I bet he thought I was a lying bitch. It wasn’t just the sound of his hips slapping my arse but the squelching noise. It wasn’t just the squelch, I thought, but the smell. I tugged my stocking tight over my face. ‘John! John!’
‘Look at you! Wearing tights for other men. Acting like a cheap slut!’ he jeered. ‘Fucking encased! In tights! We’re fucking encased!’
‘Yes, darling! We’re encased! In tights! And I love it! The stretch, the shine, the gloss! And the fact that we’re encased in tights together while the loser is working rough shifts!’ I cried out hysterically.
‘Tell me how much you hate him?’ said John.
‘Every time your cock goes in and out of my arsehole, I hate him more, and love you more,’ I squealed, like the cheap whore I loved to be. ‘My man! My sissy man! My John! Oh! In tights! Oh our dear and delicious tights!’
John couldn’t take anymore. ‘Oh Polly! My fucking Polly!’ He filled me up to the brim with his cream. Some of it ran down my nylon buttocks and legs. After we recovered, I softly said that we ought to freshen up and prepare for Kev’s arrival. The tights on my legs were sopping wet, as I took them off and carefully hung them over a photo of Kev and his brother.
3.
As you’d expect Kev was surprised to see his clothes and things in bags, stacked up near the hallway to the front door, but perhaps more surprised to find John standing guard in the living room, encased head to toe in glossy black tights and a pair of my skintight black cycling shorts, which, I admit, were far too tight for him. I could hear them exchanging a few words of disagreement, as I got ready. I wasn’t worried about things getting ugly because Kev was a wimp and John was a hunk. One of the things that had my stroking my crotch over him, was how menacing he could look in a tight, stocking mask. Drove me wild. Always brought out the fey, hysterical slut in me.
I really couldn’t wait for them to see how I strangely I was dressed. I paused at the doorway, a hand on my hip. On my head was a horse riding helmet and a dark dressage jacket, whilst my riding boots were pulled over shiny double layered golden brown satin deluxe tights. That wasn’t the kinkiest part though.
Kev asked me what was happening. Was this a wind-up, why was everyone being weird? One hand on my hip I minced into the room, giving them both a view of my slow wiggling arse, bulging with screwed up panties and tights of different colours, each with their own delicate tinge.
‘Darling,’ I said. ‘It’s like this.’ I arched my leg, pouted and looked to one side, before eyeing him. ‘John and I have been having an affair. We’re still having an affair.’ I stepped over to John and caressed his smooth, tight arse in those Lycra shorts. ‘We are lovers actually.’ I turned to John and pressed a full peck on his nylon lips. We looked at Kev. ‘Now we want this house to ourselves, so if you could, like, kindly get the fuck out of our lives, we’d be most grateful.’ I felt John’s hand squeeze and pat my arse, mauling my soft, compressed bulges. I glanced at him with a smirk on my glossy red lips. Fuck, I love being his bitch.
Kev said that he couldn’t understand, he couldn’t believe it. I rolled my eyes.
‘I don’t want to debate it, dear, I just want you to go,’ I said, as I stroked and smoothed John’s lycra arse. Kev again said it couldn’t be true.
‘What’s it going to take for you to understand that John and I are lovers?’ I said. ‘ Will you only be satisfied when you see my mouth filled with his nylon encased cock, or when I’m closing my eyes in bliss, as he floods my arsehole with his hot spunk, which I later fart into my tights for days afterwards?’
I pressed my hand to my hip and looked at Kev as if he were another species.
‘I don’t get it,’ Kev squealed.
‘What is it that you don’t get? I used you. You got played. Get over it. I’ve been with others as well. Be honest with yourself, love, look at you and look at John. Now look at me. Why the fuck would I bore myself, staying with you when I could come home to this?’ I said, eyeing John with a private smirk. ‘I must admit that I’ll miss cheating on you,’ I added. ‘Still, be happy for me. I’ve found someone who adores me. With him I can truly be myself.’ John and I exchanged another deep peck. Fuck, I really, really got off on being a complete bitch to Kev in front of John.
‘But I can change,’ Kev pathetically suggested.
I shifted my weight from one leg to the other and sighed. I casually smoothed my hand over John’s chest, encased in glistening modified tights. Oh it was so tight and shiny! I ran my hands all over. I looked at Kev all the time that my hands were exploring John’s encased chest, stomach, thighs and legs. ‘What is it you think you can change?’ I said to Kev. ‘Your chest, your cock, your arse, your face? Your mind? Get real. Listen, just go.’ I turned. The boots made my awesome arse wiggle. ‘Escort the loser out,’ I called over my shoulder, knowing they were staring at how the light made the tight seat of bulging pantyhose glisten. As I caught my expression in the mirror on the landing I couldn’t help but laugh. I heard arguing voices. I could make out that Kev was trying to plead, as John tossed his bags out the door. I smiled at my reflection. ‘Polly put the kettle on,’ I sang. I leant forward and kissed my image. Then I got changed.
When John returned, I called him to the bedroom. ‘Can you believe it’s a swimsuit? Looks like a bodice really,’ I said, hands on hips, in the doorway. He couldn’t believe his eyes. I bought it in the sales for him. My outfit was advertised as a swimsuit, but with its padded bust and embroidered golden lace effect under the bust, it looked like lingerie. Really went well with my high gloss black tights and black buckle heels. ‘Like it?’ I said as I gave a twirl. From the back it looked like a black one piece swimsuit but from the front, ooh! There I was, my hands on the hips of my girly black swimsuit, my long glossy legs, my heels and a skintight shiny black stocking stretched over my head. But there was another addition. A huge dildo strapped over my crotch.
‘I’m going to fuck you so hard that you’ll be farting my name for a month,’ I seethed. Strewn around the room were tons of, in different shades and colours, my used tights. I grabbed a few pairs and giggled as I dangled them over his head. I beamed in bliss as I wiggled and pranced, with a few pairs around my shoulders, as I sang: ‘Tights, tights, tights!’ I made the most hysterical expressions through my mask, opening my mouth and darting my eyes around.
‘You’re fucking crazy!’ exclaimed John.
‘Ooh do you know? I probably am! That’s why your cock is hard as rock!’ I said, feeding a pair of tights between our noses, so we could sniff. ‘I never ever wash my tights,’ I confessed. ‘I wear them until they get plucked or ladder. I don’t believe that there’s anyone who’s obsessed about tights, as much as me. Oh tights!’
‘Oh Polly!’ he said, as we kissed deeply through our masks. His hands reached for my arse, and mine smoothed the stretch and sheen of his lycra shorts. This was more than encased lust, it was encased love. We kissed and kissed, long, slow, deep and nylon, as our heads were carefully tilted. After twenty slow sensual nylon minutes, I asked him to sit on my face, to squash my nose and mouth, under his gleaming tights and lycra shorts. He wasted no time. I caressed and sniffed deeply, smoothing his wide lycra rump. Inhaling his emerging sweat stain. Meanwhile John sniffed, licked and kissed my hard crotch. I then tore a small hole in his shorts and pressed my finger up his arse, through his tights. I bit my lip with effort as I frigged him. After a few intense moments, I asked John to turn over, and open his legs, pull his knees up, so I could look at his encased face while I shagged his curvy arse.
‘By the way, this is being filmed. Kev will get a special birthday delivery,’ I giggled, pushing my strapon up my encased lover. John had a dirty grin under the sheen of his stocking mask, as I hit a rhythm.
‘Fucking love shagging you! There’s nothing you can do about it. Your cock gets hard the moment you see my encased face, the moment you see my legs and arse in tights. Your body can’t help it,’ I cried. The swish of nylon, the creak and slam of the bed, blended with the squelch of the strapon up his tight arsehole.
‘It’s true! Oh, Polly! I can’t help it!’ he cried out, like the sissy he always wanted to be and the sissy he’d always been, from the moment he’d first fed his legs and arse into my used pair of tights, and fed his head into a silk stocking. These shared experiences had led us to this point: encased in bed together, in our glossy tights, fucking the sweat out of each other and begging for more.
‘Do you understand what you mean to me now, huh? You fucking understand? Take it! Take it! Take it in tights! In tights! In my tights! Go on, say ‘tights’, shout it!’ I seethed, grabbing the hem of his stocking with my hands and stretching it tighter over his face, using it as a grip.
‘Tights! Tights! In my tights!’ I heard his squashed, distorted cries.
‘You fucking loved it when I was such a bitch to him, huh? I wanted you to see what the wimp means to me, and what you mean to me! Tell me you fucking love me!’
‘Oh Polly, I love you! Oh!’
I leant my encased head forward, so it was almost touching his and whispered, ‘You know there’s nothing that I wouldn’t do for and to you, don’t you? I want you to have a really detailed think about that,’ I nodded. This revelation alone had John piping and flooding his tights, and me flooding my sexy bodice. We collapsed, and I let him take me in his arms, let him hold and keep me safe, my man.
‘Ooh almost forgot,’ I said, realising something. I reached over and took something from the bedside table.
‘What’s that?’ he said.
‘This,’ I said, holding up this lycra object, ‘is seat cover for my bicycle. I got them to print that picture I took of you.’
John studied it. On the white covering was a print of his encased face.
‘It means that whenever I go cycling, I can still sit on your face,’ I smiled.
Miracle
- 10.04.2020
- 29
- 0
