Shelby has caught the bug for one of my favorite hobbies: performing live sex shows.
She’s every bit the exhibitionist I am, if not more so.
It’s hot to see how hot we can make another person, just by being so . . . hot.
We get plenty of chances to see and to be seen at the sex parties, But every now and then, it’s fun to recruit a fresh pair of eyes.
I particularly like it if those fresh eyes are bulging from the sockets of a married man.
Not that I have any special fetish for wedding bands.
My preference comes from remembering all too well what it was like to live with sexual deprivation, just because I was so concerned with doing the right thing as a husband.
Offering shows is just my way of giving back to the brothers still fighting the good fight.
Our shows are designed for those who want to enjoy some sex without cheating—at least, not really cheating.
The are only watching.
The show has a simple script.
You can watch us have sex. We enjoy talking, but we don’t take direction.
You can be nude and jerk off. You cannot touch her below the waist—you will have no sexual contact with her. He is bisexual and open to touch, if negotiated in advance.
Not surprisingly, there is a lot of interest from voyeurs.
We get our pick of the litter.
One fellow sent us a very handsome photo. Rob was straight, blonde, well built and twenty-eight. He asked an interesting question:
Rob: Does she happen to have thigh-high boots?
Jefferson: No she doesn’t, but I like this line of inquiry.
Rob: Would she wear hose?
“Shelby, would you wear hose?”
“Sure. . . but why would I want to?”
Jefferson: She’s not opposed to the idea. But she doesn’t have any.
Rob: I can bring some panty hose.
Jefferson: Panty hose? Wouldn’t thigh-high hose be better? I mean, I sorta want access to the panty area.
Rob: So you cut them.
Jefferson: Oh, I see . . . you have given this some thought! That does sound sexy.
Rob: You like the idea? Maybe I should bring you a pair as well. LOL.
Oh, the honest admissions lurking beyond “LOL.” I took the bait.
Jefferson: You’d better bring three pair, then. You’ll want something to wear.
Rob: I think that would be very hot. Tell me your heights and I will take care of the rest.
Shelby and I decided that he made the cut.
“Now, what is so sexy about this?” Shelby asked as we awaited his arrival.
“I like the line and form that hose give. They really define the shape of your legs. And then again, there is the tactile sensation. You know how hose feel when you wear them?”
“No. I’ve never worn hose.”
Shelby is a cellist. “You play concerts and you’ve never worn hose?”
“No, never. Have you?”
“Oh yes, baby. They can feel very close and sensuous. And as good as they feel on you, they feel even better when rubbed against other legs in hose.”
Our fetishist was very friendly in person—outgoing and down to earth. Pretty darned cute too.
He carried a small black bag from Victoria’s Secret.
After a little conversation, I asked about the hose.
“I brought four pair,” he said, opening the bag. “They were two-for-one.”
“Ooh, black!” Shelby observed.
“And so sheer!” I noted. “Shall we?”
We took the bag to the bedroom. I lit candles.
I slowly undressed Shelby, losing my clothes in the process. We kissed, nude in the candlelight.
Our fetishist undressed as he watched. His cock was thick and hard.
“Okay, where is my pair?” I asked.
“Here you go—you and I are the same size.”
“Nice. We can be sisters.”
Shelby took her pair. She unwrapped the package and held them aloft.
“Is there a front on these things?”
“There is a white panel on the front,” our fetishist showed her.
We sat to pull on our hose. “Like this,” I showed Shelby. “First your foot, then allow yourself a little more hose as you weave your hands up your legs . . . slowly, now . . .”
Rob stood. The hose fit his sturdy body like a leotard. He looked ready to take the stage for Balanchine.
Minus the dance belt. His cock pressed hard at the nylon.
Encased in hose, Shelby’s firm, pale legs seemed elongated, her full hips and small waist tapering her mid-section.
“What do you think? How’s my ass look?” I asked, turning.
“Very nice!” Shelby said, glancing my way as she rubbed her calves together. “This is very sexy.”
“Welcome to my fetish!” Rob grinned.
“Let’s lay down,” I suggested.
Rob and I sandwiched Shelby between us. I wrapped my arms around her.
We overlapped our legs, touching one another with our toes, pressing thighs to thighs, calves to calves.
I ran my fingers along Shelby’s smooth flesh, caressing her new hose.
I kissed her.
“This is getting you very hard,” Rob observed. “Maybe we should free your cock.”
He took a pair of scissors and carefully cut a hole in my panty hose, releasing my cock.
I thanked him. “Maybe we should release yours as well.” I pinched two parts of the tent formed by his cock and tugged them apart with a gratifying rip.
His cock swirled into open space.
“And now, you, young lady.” I turned to Shelby, who sat on the side of the bed. I pushed her shoulders playfully. She fell backwards with exaggerated force.
I crawled over her, looming above on my hands and knees.
My mouth swooped in, kissing her cheek, the nape of her neck, her shoulder.
I suckled her breasts, taking each full in my mouth.
I held them together, extending my tongue to explore the nipples joined in my hands.
I glanced at Rob. One of his hands worked his cock while the other explored his legs.
He does have a nice cock, I thought. Thick, with a mushroom head.
My tongue resumed its journey down Shelby’s body, licking her belly and crossing into the region covered in a new texture.
I left a wet trail along her inner thighs, down her calves to her ankles—such sweet ankles!—and to her feet.
I gave each foot in long, loving suck.
Shelby raised an eyebrow to me.
She has only just begun to comprehend the erotics of feet. She has recently let me have her feet, and taken mine in return.
I treasure her new gift.
One recent night, we massaged each other’s feet as we talked, taking our time, feeling at ease in our skin and with one another’s skin.
That night, I fell asleep to her hands on my feet.
“You were all curled up with my feet,” she said, “Like they were your teddy bear.”
This night was a little more electric.
Rob was very turned on by the sight of me working her feet.
So was I.
My tongue traveled back up her legs, leaving more tracks of wetness.
It arrived at its destination: wetness central.
I swirled my tongue over the hose that covered the skin I craved. She moved under me.
I took a pinch of nylon. My teeth sank into it.
I tore open a passage.
My mouth was on her flesh.
I licked open her slit, her perfectly symmetrical slit, and sucked her clit into my mouth.
My hands grabbed her hips, sliding on the hose.
Rob crouched over me, jerking as he watched me devour her.
I lifted my neck and in a motion took his cock in my mouth.
I pulled up, placing a hand on his hip. I plunged him deep into me, swallowing that straight cock.
Shelby grabbed his nipples. We worked him together.
I fingered her clit as I sucked him.
I was rock hard.
My legs ached to feel Shelby’s hose.
“C’mon,” I gasped, pulling away from that cock. “Let’s fuck.”
I wanted her to ride me. My mouth was alive. I wanted her breasts.
She could smell my aroused frenzy.
She was on me fast.
Rob knelt behind her, stroking as he watched her fuck me through shredded hose.
He came pronto.
“Good boy,” I commended, fucking Shelby harder. “Kiss me, girl.”
He washed up and returned.
“Thanks for coming,” I said, flipping Shelby. I put my cock back in her.
Thanking him for coming was my signal that he should be going.
He slipped out of his hose.
I pulled Shelby’s hips harder.
She closed her eyes and turned her face, giving herself to me.
Rob was dressed. “Thanks again for having me.” He patted my back.
I pulled my lips from her. “Thanks for coming. You can show yourself out?”
“Sure. See you.”
My mouth was too busy for more conversation.
Do lions converse when they devour zebra?
Later, we lay side by side, holding hands in our destroyed hose.
“You liked the hose?”
“Yeah,” she said. “Though it made me miss the rope.”
I turned to her. “Seriously.”
She stood as I roped her chest. I tied her small breasts tight, so that her nipples were pointed.
“I am taking pictures of you,” I said. “You are too damn much.”
“Oooh, do! But wait until I pull up my hair.”
She pulled her hair up in ponytails.
On a good day, Shelby the twenty-year-old looks maybe eighteen. With her hair up, she pushes the schoolgirl look.
She plays that in photos. She gives good face.
Her phone rang. It was Todd.
“What are you up to?” he asked.
“I am in hose, my tits are tied and Jefferson has his camera.”
“I’ll be right there.”
The three of us played camera club for a spell.
Shelby promptly posted a nice snap at her blog.