Decorating Her Dainties Ch. 02

Ass

The second of several parts of my story ‘Decorating her Dainties’. The reader is encouraged to read each part in sequence.

*

The very next morning when we were changing into our work gear, Sophia directed me to a paint-spattered retro canvas holdall with a tartan panel. She withdrew a transparent plastic bag which contained a bundle of nylon hose of all shades from nude through cinnamon to tan as well as black and white.

“They’re in here if you need them, you’ll probably need to cut some of them up,” Sophia suggested with a rye smile on her cheeky face and a durable glance looking to identify how I was responding to her permission to access her spent nylons.

“Cool Hun,” I replied as nonchalantly as I could as though a bag of her nylons meant little to me.

I imagined that I was lying naked on my back on my bed and she was standing above me with her large succulent tits with her proud nipples perched upon her broad circular swollen aureolas, two seductive stiff dark teats that begged to be nibbled and teethed. She was snipping here and there using a pair of huge paper shears, tethering me to the bedposts with lengths of clipped nylon pantyhose.

Once secured she would mount my face with the moist aromatic gusset of her transparent soft white lacy embroidered boy-short panties and twerk a touch until my mouth was buried in her sodden and fragrant panty covered labia. Then the snipping sound would continue as she readied my cock for a long, slow, agonising edging, binding aggressively the root of my shaft and separating my balls with her bespoke nylon ribbons.

“You’ll come if I say so you sordid little knicker-licker and not before,” I longed to hear her insist in a non-negotiable and triumphant manner.

“Pretty please mistress Sophia,” I whispered pathetically with my nose in her dripping chuff. It was then when someone shoved a cup of tea in my hand that the spell was broken and I found myself back in the makeshift mess/come changing room.

Decent weather that week provided me with an opportunity to put the final coat of paint on the front door. When everyone had disappeared for lunch I decided it was as safe a time as any to have a rummage through Sophia’s bag of discarded spent nylons as I had a decent excuse to do so. I emptied the frothy nylons onto the table and quickly gathered up a generous handful and held them to my face sniffing quietly for some girly aroma. The fragrance of fabric conditioner was overwhelming. It seemed she had washed the lot.

I examined every pair of pantyhose, checking the nature of the weave, the fineness of the yarn, the finish of the toe, the nature of the gusset and panty reinforcements and when I had chosen a suitable toe through which to strain my paint I snipped off one of the legs of a pair of rich tan pantyhose and then cut it into two equal lengths. I stretched the toe part over my paint kettle and put the other length in my pocket thinking that it would feel great knotted tightly around my ball bag at some opportune time.

“We wouldn’t want you to make your filthy man-mess too soon now would we,” I imagined Sophia’s voice would resonate whilst in my mind’s eye she would be busy knotting her clipped nylons mercilessly around my tender scrotum, pulling the bindings beyond the point where I winced and loudly whined in exquisite discomfort.

The nylon was extremely soft and pleasant to touch and I was particularly excited to discover that they were an expensive seamless, gussetless hose. I longed to see her oozing, swollen and dilated pussy petals squished up against the fine denier weave, her beaver with all its variegated shades, purest pink to dark maroon, sweltering behind pungent mushy nylon mesh. I longed to sample the complex of aromas held in her humid salty, sloppy package with my eager prodding tongue and draw her tangy viscous dew from her gash through the fine nylon yarn.

As I returned the rest of the feminine treasure to the bag I noticed something stuffed in one corner that I had missed. It fell out and bounced across the table. One of a pair was bundled up in the toe of the other. The texture of the grey nylon in my hand was perceptibly crisp, a texture that one identifies as copious dried perspiration and its associated mind-altering toe pheromone. Complex chemicals that have evolved precisely to dislocate male brain function and of which a single snort will cause a man to stutter and be heard to enunciate little other than a profoundly forlorn staccato grunt. I pulled a latex glove from the box and plunged my spoil inside it and put it into quarantine. I put the glove and its contents into my trouser pocket. My cock was painfully rigid and with trembling canlı bahis şirketleri knees and a parched mouth I put everything away and made myself a brew.

It took me some time to get my act together with the front door. The emotive encounter with her sexy frothy stuff had left me unable to concentrate. Sophia happened to be painting the hall ceiling nearby and each time I glanced at her I fantasised about the outcome where I to inform her,

“I’m going to sniff, huff and puff, lick and savour your divine majestic encrustations until I capitulate and my balls explode in delightful ecstasy and our dirty juices meet and melt in the nylon womb of your smelly, stinky nylon socks, you horny little bitch.”

I was loving having a naughty little secret, her well-worn crusty nylon socks in my pocket which were gently resting against my balls and precipitating a tear of adulation to moisten my underwear. I only wished I could be in a pair of her pilfered panties and that my knob-gob was soaking instead into those soft and silky girly scanties.

It seemed as though my cock was doing my thinking for me, informing me that If she hadn’t made the most of the opportunity to make me her submissive whining, whimpering panty slut and wretched nylon foot slave when I had been so utterly at her disposition that was her wrongdoing. That I’d been so sweet to her and she so shamelessly provocative and yet had not invited me for a steamy session of debauched fetishistic fragrant feminine frolic then she could hardly blame me if I took her matters into my own hands and made a clandestine mucky mess in her sequestered skimpy scanties. After all, it was her fault that my tortured, bothered ball-sacs were full and my cock-spout was dripping profusely, I’d made it especially for her. Every last drop.

I went to bed early that night anticipating a busy day to follow and knowing that my sordid ministrations with Sophia’s booty might occupy quite some time. I made myself some homely cocoa and smoked a nice spliff of marijuana prior to climbing naked under the covers. I reached into my trouser pocket for the latex glove containing the crusty ball of slate-grey coloured nylon. I opened the latex glove and a musty, sweet enchanting fragrance captivated my nostrils and made my head spin and my cock stiffen and reach up to the heavens.

“Sniff them you filthy worthless foot-boy, I can’t hear you sniffing you licentious lingerie junky, go on give them a good sniff, that’s better, sniff. Deep rhythmic sniffing now. That’s a good knicker-licker, nice big sniffs now, like the good little pitiful panty pervert that you are,” I imagined Sophia’s aggressive, demanding and uncompromising instructions delivered with the enigmatic tone of her seductive east-European accent.

I unfurled a pair of slate grey designer nylon ankle socks. These delicate little socks had a reinforced toe and reinforced heel and the delicate transparent nylon (I estimated the yarn to be seven deniers) was decorated with small black embroidered hearts. Girly scalloped stitching formed the cuff at the top of the sock and their design even included a little seam running from heel to cuff. Exclusively designed to make cocks throb and splatter spasmodic spermatozoa.

The reinforced toes were particularly stiff and crusty with fetid feminine exudations, so irresistible, and I laid one of the stinky, sweaty nylon toes on my arid tongue and began to thoroughly salivate and suck through the salty secretion. My turgid cock bobbed erratically above my stomach and my feverish balls tightened with each luscious musty extraction I slurped from the savoury nylon toe.

“Suck my stinky foot sweat you loser, pitiful toe boy, that’s it, good boy, what an obedient toe-slut,” I imagined Sophia’s words whispered in my ear between the invasions of her busy brutish tongue inside the aperture of my ear and the attention she gave to nibbling the pinna.

I imagined being naked apart from a pair of her delicate floral, lacy panties at half-mast around my knees on which I was supporting myself. Her firm legs clad in opaque black nylon hold-up stockings with deep lacy floral welts, the dainty embroidered fragrant front panel of her boy-shorts level with my face. I would be staring at her beautiful petite feet and well-turned ankles when I would feel her moist palm under my chin directing my gaze so that our eyes met before she harshly pinched my nostrils closed and aggressively stuffed the cute grey nylon designer socks into my gaping mouth. Her wriggling stocking toes would be toying incessantly beneath my balls and she would routinely cramp the swollen head of my tearful bloated cock with her toes against her warm and moist wrinkled canlı kaçak iddaa nylon sole.

The crusty nylon sock, refreshed by the moisture from my breath was tacky with filthy foot-goo and stuck to my lips and tongue. When I had thoroughly soaked the encrusted nylon with saliva, I sucked long and hard at the sodden infusion and was rewarded with a fix of heady fungal sugars that sent my shaft soaring. I spent some time extracting all the earthy syrup, paying particular attention to the reinforced toes and heel.

Finally, when the flavour became merely synthetic I slipped the sexy hose down the length of my elongated shaft and pulled the girly elastic cuff tight beyond my inflamed balls. It fitted like a glove, stretched taught with my cock head clearly visible within the reinforced toe. I remembered the cut leg of soft tan pantyhose I had secreted away at work and took it from my trouser pocket and knotted it tightly around my balls to secure the taught nylon sock condom. Now I was longing to be the victim of Sophia’s every humiliating whim, to be humbled and downtrodden at her odorous nylon feet and in my head, I could hear her sweet soothing voice mocking me,

“I love to see the angry and bloated purple head of your eager, silly, stiff shaft imprisoned behind my crusty feminine nylon toe reinforcement you slutty slave boy. And it’s all soggy with your spit. How does that feel to have that slimy toe stitching running through the watery eye of your throbbing knob end, sniffy boy? Well, answer me, you naughty nylon jerk-off junky.”

I would be speechless and Sophia my irresistible sperm siren would angrily demand a response as she tightly gripped and twisted my agonised tethered balls.

“Oh look at you, you’re already leaking cock tears and I have hardly begun to tease you yet.” I would only moan and whimper pathetically through the salty encrusted socks that I imagined she had stuffed into my hungry mouth. “I think it’s about to pop already she divulged, watching my twitching bell-end behind the neat toe stitching of her nylon sock.” Then she might whisper in my ear and refer to the tacky secretion that was inundating the soft cotton gusset of her own bedraggled dainties.

“It looks so cute all caught up in that sweaty nylon sock, oh my you naughty sad footboy you’re beginning to dribble again, don’t you dare come until I tell you to. Don’t you dare shoot your lot,” Sophia might insist.

I bunched the other crusty nylon ankle sock and holding the ornate girly cuff in my mouth I placed the stiff aromatic toe over my nose. I began to sniff deeply, I wrapped one hand around my nylon shrouded shaft and cupped my bloated ball sacs with the other. The potent pheromone therapy intensified the excruciating lustful animal craving and my aching knotted balls began to contract in preparation to render their copious creamy tribute for my dirty demanding mistress.

“You’ll have a stiffy in a jiffy if you take a big deep sniffy,” I imagined Sophia taunting me. “I want to hear you sniffing, now sniff if you want to come at all, that’s a good boy, come on I want to hear you sniffing. That’s it, a big deep sniff now footboy, a nice big deep sniff now,” I longed to hear Sophia demand.

I grasped my balls and pulled them away from my groin and when I was unable to bear my perverse sordid sexual torment anymore and was about to shoot my spunk I held my knob vertically and watched as my hot impatient jism began to pulse copiously throughout the entire nylon toe reinforcement just as though it were turbulent froth bubbling from the top of an agitated soda bottle.

“Now did I say you could come, naughty boy?” I imagined Sophia was scolding me. I fell asleep for the night.

I suffered post-orgasmic guilt disorder when I awoke the following morning and I became preoccupied with returning the spunky soiled nylon socks to their rightful place before they were missed. I was still wearing her sock on my cock but my dirty man-mess had dried during the night. The spunked up toe was now stuck to my bell-end and I had to peel it carefully away from my skin. I rolled crusty garment with the other of the pair the way I had found them and took them to work with me. As soon as I arrived at work and with much regret, I returned the crusty ball with it’s dual secretions to its rightful place.

The situation at work was encouraging, we were run ragged with all the snagging but the job was almost complete, all essential requirements had been met and any unfinished work could wait until the new year. The next day we would knock off for Xmas so a lunchtime finish and a pint were on the agenda.

It was Sophia’s last day and she would be working with her own client canlı kaçak bahis in the new year. All was going well until I managed to slit my thumb open with a sharp stripping knife. The remedy was always to get a big of bog paper and some masking tape and make a bandage but I met Sophia on my way to the work’s mess.

“Your time of the month is it Hen?” she said when she saw the blood streaming down my thumb. “How did you manage that? Come on I’ll help you sort it out, can’t leave you for a minute can I,” she joked.

Her midriff sparkled as a multitude of green and red LED’S illuminated in sequence.

“What the fuck are you wearing Hon,” I asked her.

It was clearly a saucy suspender belt above her overalls with fairy light adornments. It was a lacy black suspender belt with a little inverted pale pink panel and the obligatory delicate girly bow centered at the front. Sophia had a dusting brush, a clean paintbrush and latex gloves tucked inside the belt and attached to each of the four black suspender straps she had hung gleaming plastic Xmas baubles. I desperately wanted this playful seductress to play with me.

“Never seen a sussie belt before, what are you like? It’s Christmas mate,” she teased looking incredulously at me.

Hearing her enunciate that word ‘sussie’ and the pleasure it gave me to hear her mentioning her intimate feminine foundation made me wish that she had continued her oration, identifying an endless list of her sexy girly garments.

Her gentle ministrations as she cleaned my wound and the sweaty odour of her hot busied body made me delirious as I took in the details of her festive belt and began to imagine the sexy diaphanous stockings that she might hang from it.

I continued from ‘sussie’ where she had left off and as I watched her nurse my thumb I began to imagine her whispering in my ear,

“Spunk stained stockings, creamy encrusted corsets, sperm stained scanties, creamy coated thongs, gummed up ‘g’strings, pungent pilfered pantyhose, daily decorated dainties, knotted nylon knee-highs, bone soaked bras, girdle gags, tortured tangas, semen spattered slips, cotton sock condoms, pungent perused panties, sodden stinking ped socks, spunk splattered sandals and saliva coated stilettos.”

We sat opposite one another on upturned milk crates. With her concentrating on the task at hand I was able to study her face and watched as her tongue routinely escaped from her between her lips and I could not help imagining how it would be if her concentration had been directed toward teasing my bell-end. She would be prodding the weeping eye of my shaft and catching the rim of my glans with her busy little muscle.

Sophia was cross-legged and I was cross-eyed staring as she allowed her heel to dip from her pink croc whilst she was attending to my wound. She reached for a box of latex gloves and taking her shears from the pocket of her overall she snipped the thumb from a glove forming a home-made finger stall. She rolled this little latex condom over my thumb and secured it with masking tape while I watched her dipping croc fall from her toes and hit the floor with an enchanting penile stimulating thud.

“Let mommy kiss it better,” she cooed before planting a quick kiss on the tip of my latex dressed thumb.

I was happy to be in her debt as it allowed me the excuse to pick up her croc and return a favour with what might appear to be chivalry but principally served my own needs of addiction and perverse obsession. While proposing that one good turn deserved another I took the opportunity to support her warm, moist cotton covered heel in the palm of my hand as I guided her dainty little toes into her pink croc.

“Awwwright Cinders,” I commented hoping to further distract Sophia from my real motive of wanting to be her slavishly obedient panty posing foot slut. The comedy was the veil to conceal my real motivation for the liberty I was taking, having her sweaty cotton covered heel in the palm of my hand.

She didn’t hang about and left me sitting bewildered, breathless and with a parched mouth wondering if I should have told her that I’d also injured my knob. My horny nurse might farther deal with the arid state of my mouth and stick that little moist tongue as far as my tonsils would allow.

Her cotton ankle sock had left the faintest scent in the palm of my hand and I sampled it thereafter until it had completely disappeared. Flesh had turned to stone.

Later in a chaotic and rowdy pub, Sophia turned to me and shouted above the rowdiness that she’d see me when she collected her stuff in the New Year and then blew me a kiss. I raised my injured thumb cocooned in its little latex condom in a gesture of goodwill and watched her adorable sexy little arse as she pushed her way through the throng of revellers to the door.

Xmas happened.

(to be continued in part three when I gain access to Sophia’s fresh foot fragrance.)

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