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Harper Valley USA - 10
by AZ Legman (wordsinprogress@gmail.com)

***

This is the tenth chapter of what will be a continuing 
series depicting the melodramatic sexual adventures of 
a typical suburban family. For those who enjoy 
pantyhose stories, this series will focus heavily 
(although, not entirely) on that particular fetish, as 
well as the pervasive incest themes. (Mdom/F, mf, inc, 
mast, oral, exh, blkmail)

***

Author Notes: The following story is a work of fiction 
containing graphic descriptions of sexual acts between 
adults and minors. While all of the sex depicted is 
consensual, the author does not intend to promote 
incest or sexual relations with underage children. The 
story is written purely for entertainment purposes 
only. Those who are offended by such material are 
strongly encouraged not to read this.

This is the tenth chapter of what will be a continuing 
series depicting the melodramatic sexual adventures of 
a typical suburban family. For those who enjoy 
pantyhose stories, this series will focus heavily 
(although, not entirely) on that particular fetish, as 
well as the pervasive incest themes.

Each chapter will be written predominantly from the 
point of view of one member of the family.

I hope you enjoy it. Please send your comments and 
suggestions.

Your friend, AZ Legman
"Life, Liberty and The Pursuit of Pantyhose"

***

Harper Valley USA: Chapter 10 - The New Boss

It was 7:50 AM, on a clear, sunny, Monday morning, as 
Greg Harper arrived at the office ready to tackle yet 
another week in the endless struggle to justify his six 
figure salary. 

He pulled into his reserved parking space with a bulge 
in his pants, as he quietly relived the raunchy events 
of the family dinner party the night before, which had 
suddenly erupted into a wild fuck fest that brought 
back memories of his old swinger days, except in this 
case he and his wife had made the risky decision to 
involve a pair of siblings from an outside family, a 
teenage brother and sister with whom his own children 
had developed deep infatuations.

Given their increased appetite for sex and their 
eventual desire to have families of their own, Greg had 
always assumed that his two children would eventually 
seek relationships beyond their immediate family. 
However, he never planned for it to happen so soon, nor 
was he completely sure that nothing would go wrong as 
he quietly considered how careful everyone would have 
to be in order to maintain their secret.

As he exited the car, he opened the door and stretched 
his tall frame out of the driver's seat, wincing as he 
grabbed his lower back from the strain of the hard-
hitting basketball game against his son, which had left 
him quite sore, while Jonathan was no worse for wear 
after playing his heart out and forcing his father to 
resort to such underhanded tactics as grabbing his 
shirt, stepping on his foot, or whatever else it took 
to stop his teenage son from beating him decisively.

As Greg shut the door and locked it behind him, he 
smiled while he quietly considered how much his son had 
taken after his old man. Their mutual lust for 
pantyhose was obviously not the only interest the two 
of them had in common, which he proudly thought to 
himself while striding toward the corporate 
headquarters of Caliber office supplies, the company 
with whom he had been loyally employed for over 15 
years.

Greg had actually started working for the company as a 
part-time stock room employee during his early years at 
USC. He still remembered the embarrassing moment, when 
he filled out his job application and confidently slid 
it across the store manager's desk, a chain-smoking, 
heavy-set older woman named Martha, who was clearly 
unimpressed by the dashing smile of the local sports 
hero, as she blankly looked down at the name scrawled 
on the form, and then slowly gazed up at his chipper 
face with the same empty expression as she called his 
name in her dull monotone.

"Gregory Harper," Martha said plainly.

"In the flesh!" he remembered saying with such 
arrogance.

"You understand this job pays minimum wage," she said. 
"Health benefits are only for full time employees. You 
get thirty minutes for lunch. You must be neatly 
attired at all times. If you are late or call out sick 
more than three times in a month, you will be 
terminated without exception."

"Umm, okay," he said, nodding his head.

"And under no circumstances are you to have any 
dealings at all with the customers," Martha said. "Any 
questions?"

"Just one," he asked hopefully. "When do I start?" 

"Training begins at 8 AM tomorrow morning," she said. 
"If you get here late, you can always apply again next 
month, or you can try your luck at the Dairy Queen down 
on Buena Vista."

"Then I'll be here at 8," he said, proudly reaching out 
his hand. "Thank you, ma'am."

"Mmm hmm," Martha answered, with her head stuck behind 
the morning paper.

From those humble beginnings, Greg's can-do attitude 
got him a shot at sales rep, for which his ruggedly 
handsome looks and his confident swagger made him a 
natural, particularly when dealing with the steady crop 
of hot young receptionists, long-legged saleswomen and 
gorgeous female executives, all of whom typically came 
in dressed to kill in their high-powered business 
suits, which typically included a short skirt, in 
either black, gray or navy blue, with black pumps, and 
beige, nude or suntan pantyhose, which during the mid-
eighties most companies generally required as part of 
their standard dress code, back in what Greg fondly 
referred to as "the good old days."

Since dating his future wife prevented him from 
flirting on the job, a full day of staring at all those 
hot female customers, as they clicked up and down the 
aisles in their high heels and suntan pantyhose, always 
sent Greg rushing back to his studio apartment where 
his lovely wife-to-be would often visit wearing the 
same hose she'd been wearing all day, after typically 
spending several hours strutting around the mall, where 
she greatly enjoyed showing off her hot body, before 
coming over later that evening with a full report on 
all the lustful stares she received at her all-natural 
36Ds, bouncing under her tight little tops, as she 
happily marched along spotting every stolen glance at 
the bright, colorful pantyhose on her long, head-
turning legs.

By then, the young Shelly Anderson could already claim 
a good seven years of training in the art of pantyhose 
seduction, and part of what made the connection between 
her and Greg so strong was the way she approached his 
obsession as if it were her job to understand his 
fascination with pantyhose as much as possible. 

Initially, Greg blamed his fetish on watching too many 
episodes of "The Price Is Right," "Three's Company," 
and "Entertainment Tonight," which perhaps made it no 
surprise when he fell so hard for Shelly, who from her 
late teens to early twenties bore a strong resemblance 
to the young Suzanne Somers, with that same bubbly 
energy and playful sex appeal, along with a show-
stopping pair of perfectly sculpted legs, which brought 
back stirring visions of the gorgeous gams he instantly 
drooled over the first time he saw Mary Hart.

As Greg entered the bustling office building and walked 
through the spacious lobby, toward the main elevators, 
a young mail clerk named Eddie Gomez wheeled up beside 
him pushing a cart filled with envelopes of various 
colors and sizes.

"Hey, Mr. Harper," Eddie said. "How was your weekend?"

Greg turned, quietly contemplating the question, as he 
blinked momentarily.

"Actually, it was...uh," he stumbled, "pretty intense, 
I'd have to say," he answered, reaching for his back 
again, and then wincing painfully, before adding. "I 
think I might have thrown my back out. Hurts like 
hell."

"Wow," Eddie said, with a smile. "You and your wife 
must have been pretty busy."

Greg laughed, as he shook his head. "I wish that was 
true," he said. "Normally, she's the one walking funny 
the next morning, but not today."

Eddie laughed, as the bell dinged and the elevator 
slowly slid open. "So what were you doing," he asked, 
as they stepped in, "yard work or something?"

"Hmm, no," he said, as he reached over and pressed 
seven. "Playing basketball with my son," he said. "He's 
going out for the team this year. I was just trying to 
give him a taste of some real competition. I guess he 
took it personal."

Eddie laughed. "Well, at least tell me you didn't get 
beat by your own kid. If word of that gets out, I don't 
know if I could be seen talking to you around the 
office anymore," he said, smiling.

"Oh, I definitely won, trust me," Greg said, 
deliberately withholding certain details regarding all 
of his cheap shots and hard fouls. "The kid's got some 
game though," he proudly admitted. "I will say that."

"Chip off the old block," Eddie said, to which Greg 
turned, and pointed his finger with a mild frown. 

"Hey," he said, "Watch that old stuff. I'm still young 
enough to remember when I used to push that cart around 
myself."

Eddie blinked. "Really," he said, sounding surprised. 
"I never knew you worked in the mailroom."

Greg nodded. "Corporate office was a lot smaller when 
they promoted me from retail," he answered. "When I 
started here as a junior account exec, I pulled double 
duty as office manager for a while," he recalled. 
"Pretty much had to learn how to do everything," he 
said, "just in case someone didn't show up."

"No shit?" Eddie said.

"No shit," Greg told him "Delivered mail, ran the 
copier…hell, I even made the coffee," he said, as he 
sipped his Starbucks.

"Wow," Eddie said, as the elevator came to a stop on 
the seventh floor. "So you think if I stick around long 
enough, maybe I can get myself a nice corner office and 
a hot wife like you."

Greg nodded sincerely as he stepped out under the 
bright lights of the white-walled corridor. "Anything's 
possible," he told him. "Just believe in yourself and 
be ready when someone offers you a chance."

"I hear you," Eddie said. "That's why I'm going back to 
SC to finish my degree next year."

"Smart man," he said, as he reached over and patted his 
shoulder. "Go Trojans," he added pumping his fist, 
before turning around and then calmly heading down to 
his office.

As Greg continued down the corridor, smiling and 
nodding at his various colleagues and underlings, who 
greeted him respectfully as they walked by, his brief 
conversation with Eddie about his early years with the 
company brought back vivid memories of the day when he 
told Shelly about his first big promotion, and the 
ensuing dinner celebration that followed.

Shelly had decided that she would wear something 
special for him that evening, as Greg had made 
reservations at Maîson Phillippe, a posh little French 
restaurant in the city, which Shelly had been dying to 
try for weeks. As liberal as Greg was in certain 
aspects of his life, he had always been pretty 
conservative with his money, preferring to live within 
his means, but he decided to make the reservation 
anyway, after realizing that the significant boost in 
his monthly income could easily absorb the hit he was 
sure to take on his Amex.

Of course, any concerns about their final tab for that 
evening promptly flew out the window, when Shelly 
calmly stepped out of her parent's house wearing a 
backless red halter dress, with a matching pair of 
dazzling red heels that looked every bit as appetizing 
as her glossy red lips, as she gracefully walked toward 
his car with all the subdued confidence and fluid 
motion of a runway model.

As he watched the alluring manner in which she proudly 
paraded herself toward his steady gaze, the sultry look 
in her eyes also looked every bit as sinful as the 
fiery color of her dress, which judging from the 
alarming lack of material, was designed merely to cover 
the areas that would otherwise get her arrested.

With her radiant blonde hair flagging behind her in the 
evening breeze, Greg remembered standing there shaking 
his head, before staring up toward the heavens to thank 
whomever saw fit to present him with such an awe-
inspiring vision.

As she stood there before him, smelling like 
honeysuckle and beaming with joy, Greg couldn't help 
looking down and asking if she was cold, as he 
instantly felt compelled to pull off his dinner jacket 
and cover her on the spot.

Shelly laughed, seeming to take pleasure in the 
knowledge that her sizzling ensemble had taken someone 
known for being so cool, calm and collected and left 
him completely at a loss for words.

"You look a little flushed," she said, with a subtle 
wink. "What's the matter, can't take the heat?"

Greg stammered, as he stood there blushing in the face 
of such blatant nudity, "Umm, not really," he meekly 
answered, as he peered down where his gaping eyes were 
quickly assaulted by the double barrels pointing from 
her chest, as his girlfriend stood there virtually 
naked from the waist up, while his eyes searched 
helplessly to find the missing patches of material 
which had obviously been lost somewhere.

"Actually," Greg added awkwardly. "I'm just standing 
here wondering how on Earth you can even move in that 
thing without…well, you know," he said, as he pointed 
down toward her heaving breasts.

Shelly smiled. "You mean the old nip slip," she said, 
with a soft laugh, before curling her thumbs beneath a 
pair of straps that widened no more than a few inches 
as they looped around her neck and came down over the 
massive swells of her half-naked tits, before merging 
in the shape of a V above her navel, where the snug 
fabric clung to her luscious hips and wrapped around 
her full bottom, squeezing her juicy ass as firmly as 
Greg wanted to do at that very moment.

"Simple," Shelly went on to explain, as she playfully 
tugged the straps to prove their stability. "You'd be 
amazed what a girl can do with a little scotch tape," 
she said, smiling, as she twitched her eyebrows, and 
then waited as Greg politely opened the passenger door, 
where he poorly stood guard as his eyes instantly fell 
to her legs, which appeared to be glistening in the 
moonlight with a rich buttery glow from the warm golden 
color of her shimmering pantyhose.

As they sat there minutes later, in the trendy upscale 
bistro, on a busy Friday night, Greg fondly recalled 
the way Shelly excitedly went on about the amazing new 
pantyhose she had just bought and purposely wore that 
evening in honor of the occasion.

As if they were still sitting in his apartment sharing 
a quiet dinner alone, Greg watched as Shelly slowly 
turned out her chair, and then slightly inched up her 
skirt, with both of her sexy red heels firmly planted 
on the floor, as she lovingly began caressing her own 
silky upper thighs. 

"These," Shelly said, as she patiently elevated her 
right leg for Greg to enjoy the sweet rustle of her 
thighs rubbing together. "Are my new," she continued, 
as her right leg slowly rose up, folded back, and swept 
across the other, with a delightful swish, as the nylon 
brushed against the grain, drawing his full attention 
to the perfect alignment of her sparkling high-crossed 
legs. 

"Aristoc," she continued, as she reached down to caress 
the magnificently lush fibers with her own fortunate 
fingers. "Nude," she added, as Greg paused to admire 
how the elegant position of her top leg resting against 
the other produced the most exquisite bulge in her 
fleshy round calf. "Ultra shine," she whispered, with 
her legs glistening like she had just coated them under 
a glossy layer of translucent nail polish. "10 Denier," 
she explained, a term which indicated a level of 
sheerness so refined that hearing it instantly made 
Greg tremble, before she finally leaned forward to 
carefully enunciate the word, "Pantyhose," and then 
paused before she slowly shifted in her seat and 
lowered her right heel back to the floor, only to pick 
up her left leg and casually sweep it the other way, 
where Greg watched as she cheerfully began making soft 
music, sliding one leg up and down across the other 
like the strings on a violin.

Greg sat there fidgeting with excitement, while doing 
his best to focus on the conversation as Shelly went on 
about how the pantyhose actually cost more than her 
whole outfit and were easily the most expensive she'd 
ever bought in her life.

She then explained that they were well worth the 
expense, as she aptly described their texture as 
lighter than air, which Greg soon discovered when she 
openly invited him to feel her silky legs right there 
at the table.

Greg could still remember how his heart raced as he 
slowly reached forward to touch the lush nylon, which 
greeted him with all the warmth and softness of a 
newborn baby breathing against his sensitive fingers. 
Even as curious onlookers began to stare, Greg was 
helpless to stop himself as Shelly encouraged him to 
enjoy the smoothness of her legs, while rubbing her new 
pantyhose in full view of everyone.

Finally, the waiter came over and politely requested 
that they refrain from their unseemly behavior, for 
which they quickly apologized and returned to their 
normal seated positions to quietly resume their meal.

As the wine flowed and the conversation continued, Greg 
remembered Shelly bringing up her concern that all the 
extra hours he had diligently put in to earn his 
promotion had forced her to find new methods for 
relieving herself of her frequent sexual urges.

When pressed, Shelly flatly admitted that lack of sex 
was forcing her to masturbate at least two or three 
times a day, news which failed to surprise Greg until 
she added the intriguing details of her discovery that 
she also had stronger orgasms when she masturbated in 
her pantyhose – a fact she attributed to a subconscious 
link between her deep love for him and his deep love 
for seeing her in hose.

Greg challenged her on the point, suggesting that 
perhaps she actually enjoyed the feeling of pantyhose 
against her skin more than she let on, to which Shelly 
quickly blushed, and then confessed that wearing them 
all the time had definitely become a powerful 
addiction, not just for him, but for her as well.

On the drive home, Greg commented that he saw little 
chance of any immediate reduction in his busy schedule 
with the start of his new position. In fact, he 
secretly knew that a healthy amount of overtime would 
definitely be needed in order to afford that perfect 
engagement ring which he had already picked out. 

To return to the freeway, on their way back to Cedar 
Springs, Greg had to drive through a particular area of 
the city known for catering to various adult needs, as 
they passed a wide array of pool halls, dive bars, 
liquor stores, strip clubs and adult bookshops, one of 
which led Shelly to make an unusually offhanded remark.

"Maybe I should get myself a new toy, since you're so 
busy all the time," she said.

Greg smiled, focusing on the road, as he laughed 
softly. "Don't you still that have silver vibrator?"

"Ooooh," Shelly moaned. "My Silver Bullet," she said. 
"Yeah, I still have that. But when I get in one of my 
really horny moods where I need to feel something 
inside me, but I still want something on the outside 
too, then I have to use my fingers," she said. "It gets 
a little frustrating, especially through the 
pantyhose."

Greg stopped at the red light. "So what exactly are you 
looking for?" Greg asked, as he turned to face her.

"Well," Shelly said, crossing her right leg, as she 
leaned to the side. "There's this new toy I've been 
hearing about. I think it's called the Rabbit."

Greg nodded. "It's one of those motorized dildos or 
something, right?"

"Exactly," Shelly said. "Only it has this extra piece 
that points up, with these little rabbit-like ear 
thingies that hit right against the clit," she 
explained. "It's supposed to be really intense."

"I'm sure it is," Greg said. "I'm just not sure where 
that leaves me."

"I don't know," Shelly said, with a grin. "Stuck in 
your office, I guess."

Greg shook his head. "Okay," he said, as the light 
turned green, and he noticed a sign that read: Adult 
Video Arcade on the next block. "There's a bookstore 
right over there," he noted. "If we stop there and I 
buy you one of these little gadgets," he asked. "What's 
in it for me?"

Shelly paused. "Hmm," she said, thinking momentarily. 
"I've got it," she said. "We can stop at that store 
right there, like you said," she explained. "Only you 
go in first, and then I'll follow behind you in a 
minute."

"Okay," Greg said, blinking. "And then what?"

"Just pretend you don't know me," she said, with a sexy 
smile.

Greg laughed. "Oh, that's good," he said. "That's 
really good."

"I thought you'd approve," she said. "Now, go," she 
added, shooing him out of the car, "and try not to look 
too obvious."

Greg nodded, as he quickly followed orders, and then 
pulled up to the small boutique, which was right off 
the main strip.

Moments later, Greg leisurely roamed up and down the 
aisles, trying to occupy himself by scanning over the 
dozen shelves lined with every category of porn from 
barely legal teens with big tits to anal-loving moms 
with really big tits; the choices were endless.

As Greg recalled, it was somewhere around 9 or 10 
o'clock at night, with perhaps eight to ten customers 
milling about, most of them appearing to be men over 
thirty with receding hair lines and paunches hanging 
over their belts. 

He stopped at the magazine rack, where he instinctively 
reached over and picked up the latest issue of Leg 
Show. He quietly flipped it open somewhere in the 
middle, and pleasantly began thumbing through the racy 
pictures, when he turned to the jingling sound of a new 
customer entering the store.

The moment Shelly stepped through the door, Greg 
remembered it feeling like a surprise visit from a 
certain blonde bombshell, a former centerfold and ex-
Baywatch star, who just happened to be featured in the 
most infamous sex tape of all time, except this wasn't 
that Anderson, this was someone even better.

Shelly stood there by the front door looking hotter 
than a five-alarm fire, with her flashy blonde hair, 
and her bold red lips, along with the eye-popping 
luster of her ultra-shine pantyhose, which Greg could 
see in the warm overhead light had been aptly named for 
their brilliant high-gloss finish. 

Like a flashing red stop sign, her short, clingy, low-
cut dress brought everything screeching to a halt, as 
everyone froze in their tracks, including Greg, who 
Shelly regarded from a distance with a cold and 
convincing aloofness as she confidently threw out her 
prominent 36Ds, before making a brisk march toward the 
sex toys.

"Can I help you find something, Miss?" Greg overheard 
from the lone gentleman working in the store that 
night.

"I'm looking for a new toy," Shelly said.

"Well, we have a wide assortment of products that might 
interest you," he said. "Are you looking for anything 
for specific?" he asked. "Do you have a particular size 
preference?"

"Oh, I definitely like the big ones," she said, before 
feigning embarrassment. "Oh, I'm sorry. Did I just say 
that out loud?" she said, with a mild laugh.

The salesman stuttered. "Uh, yeah…yeah, you did," he 
said. "Anyway, umm…like I was saying, we have lots of 
cool stuff here. If you'd like, I can show you some of 
our more popular items."

"Actually, maybe it would be best if I tell you exactly 
what I like," she offered. "Then we can narrow it down 
from there."

"Good idea," he said.

Greg still remembered standing just out of sight, 
behind the high wall of adult magazines, where he could 
clearly see the wide-eyed look on the young salesman's 
face, when Shelly suddenly pulled up the front of her 
dress, and then used the tip of her red fingernail to 
show him in no uncertain terms the exact spot that got 
her off.

The salesman just stood there gawking and fumbling 
about while Shelly continued talking and smiling with 
the same pleasant expression she wore during dinner.

Finally, he led her toward another area where Greg 
couldn't quite see them behind the shelves. He went 
back to browsing through his magazine, where he found 
several outfits in which he thought Shelly would look 
even hotter than some of the models. At that point, he 
decided to go ahead and buy it, hoping it might inspire 
some of her shopping choices in the near future.

He walked up to the front counter, which the sales 
clerk had left unattended, as he was the only employee 
working in the store that evening.

Seconds later, Greg turned to see Shelly approaching, 
followed by the clerk, who quickly noticed Greg waiting 
to pay for his magazine.

"Excuse me, Miss," said the clerk. "If you'll bear with 
me, I can ring you up right after this gentleman who's 
been patiently waiting."

"Oh, I'm in no hurry," Greg said, as he politely turned 
and regarded Shelly, who had neglected to mention that 
her new ultra-shine pantyhose were also sheer-to-waist, 
a fact which had become rousingly evident to Greg as 
she stood less than five feet away from him with her 
hemline hiked well above her exposed crotch.

Greg flashed a cordial smile, as he stepped back and 
gestured for her to cut in front of him, to which 
Shelly smiled back and kindly accepted his offer.

"Thank you, sir," she said, moving up to the glass 
counter. "I have to admit I'm really anxious to get 
home and test this out."

Greg smiled. "I could think of worse things to be doing 
on a Friday night," he replied, before frowning 
slightly, clearing his throat, and then gesturing in 
the general direction of her visible lady parts.

"You might want to adjust your skirt there a little 
bit."

Shelly looked down and then quickly gasped. "Oh, my!" 
she said, obviously playing dumb. "How embarrassing," 
she said, with a firm tug and a charming little hip 
wiggle. "Most men would have let me walk around like 
that all night. You're a real gentleman," she said, 
with a flirty smile and a lustful twinkle in her eyes, 
which never failed to make Greg's temperature rise.

"Okay, Miss," said the clerk. "Your total for the 
Rabbit is $20.94 after tax. Will that be cash, check or 
charge this evening?"

Greg quickly stepped forward and plunked down his 
credit card.

"It's on me," he said, turning and smiling at Shelly 
again.

"Oh, I can't let you do that," she said. "I don't even 
know you."

Greg put out his hand. "Greg Harper," he told her.

Shelly smiled as she took his hand and gave it a light 
squeeze. "Shelly," she said. "Just Shelly."

"Pleasure to meet you, Shelly," he said, eyeing her 
with admiration. "I have to say that dress you're 
wearing looks incredible on you."

Shelly smiled. "You like it?" she said, striking a 
quick pose. "I was worried it might be a little 
too...you know…slutty," she said. Greg shook his head.

"Not at all," he answered. "To me, you just look like 
woman with a lot of confidence," he said. "I just can't 
imagine why someone as classy and beautiful as you 
would even walk into a place like this."

Shelly smiled. "This is where I come to pick up strange 
men when my boyfriend gets too busy with his job," she 
said, laughing to herself. "I have to say though," she 
added. "Of all the men I see in here, you are 
definitely the pick of the litter."

Greg smiled, as he reached over to sign his receipt. 
"Thank you," he said. "What do you say we go find some 
place and grab a drink?"

"We could do that," Shelly said, with a distracted 
glance toward the dark hallway at the far end of the 
store. "Do you have any idea what those rooms are back 
there?" she said, pointing toward the dimly lit section 
with the glowing red lights.

"I think that's the video arcade," Greg explained, 
looking back at the clerk for clarification. The clerk 
nodded back.

"All of our booths are coin-operated," said the clerk. 
"Once you purchase your tokens, you can go back and 
watch whatever you like for twenty five cents a 
minute." 

Shelly nodded, and then looked back again curiously. 
"Would it be okay to just go back and look around for a 
minute?"

The clerk shrugged. "Per policy, we've had to establish 
a five dollar minimum for the video arcade," he said. 
"Other than that, you're welcome to stay and look 
around as long as you like."

Greg quickly pulled out twenty bucks and slapped it 
down. "Will that cover us for a while?"

The clerk nodded, as he picked up the cash, and then 
came back with a stack of tokens in four paper rolls.

Shelly turned and gave Greg an odd look. "Were you 
planning on joining me?"

Greg nodded. "Would I be a gentleman if I let you go 
back there by yourself with all those strange horny 
men?"

Shelly cracked a thin and wicked little smile, before 
quietly proceeding forward, leading without a word, as 
Greg followed, with his eyes hard pressed to focus on 
anything but the precise heel-to-toe placement of her 
sexy red pumps, and the opulent shimmer of the high-
fashion pantyhose sparkling down her legs.

As they entered the shadowy room, Greg instantly 
noticed how the sinful color of his girlfriend's dress 
seamlessly blended with the hazy red light by which 
they were instantly surrounded.

While most of the ten by ten cubicles had their doors 
closed, Shelly quickly found one which was unoccupied, 
and then promptly stepped in, but was instantly put off 
by the strong chemical odor.

"God," she said, sniffing. "It smells like bleach in 
here," she noted, as Greg sniffed too.

"Ammonia," Greg said. "That's how they keep them 
clean."

Shelly laughed softly. "You mean guys actually jerk off 
in here?" she asked. "Isn't that illegal?"

Greg nodded. "I'm sure it is," he said. "But somehow I 
don't think you'd find any public masturbators on 
'America's Most Wanted.'" he said, as he reached over 
and dropped in a handful of copper coins.

The small color monitor quickly illuminated the room 
with the bold, in-your-face image of a full-figured, 
mature white woman, with pale skin, red hair, and big 
all-natural tits getting tag teamed by two well-endowed 
black men, with one cock shoved in her pussy, and the 
other wedged deep in her ass.

"Oh, wow," Shelly said, with her eyes gaping at the 
screen. "This is wild."

Greg laughed. "This must be the interracial booth," he 
said, peeking his head into the next stall. "This one 
is open too. Let me see what they have in here," he 
said, stepping inside.

"Okay," she said. "We don't have to stay long," she 
added. "I was just curious what goes on back here," she 
said, as she looked over to her left and then crooked 
her head down to where someone had obviously cut-out 
out a large circle in the plywood wall, giving her a 
clear view to where Greg was standing in the adjacent 
stall.

"What's this for?" Shelly said, speaking through the 
wall. "Do people sit here and watch each other jack 
off?"

Greg nodded. "I'm sure they do," he said. "But some 
people probably do more than watch."

Shelly didn't answer for a moment, and then finally 
Greg recalled the way she suddenly gasped under her 
breath, and then whispered, "Oh, that's just wrong."

Greg laughed. "Yeah, it is sort of creepy when you 
can't even the see their face," he said, waiting for 
Shelly to answer. "What are you doing over there?"

"Just watching," she said. "These two black guys are 
really going to town on this girl," she added. "I don't 
know how she's taking them both at once." 

Greg smiled, as he reached down and fit his hand 
through the small hole. He searched around for a 
moment, before his fingers quickly made contact with 
the soft silky texture of Shelly's pantyhose.

"Mmmmm," Shelly moaned over the hardcore noises of the 
video. "What exactly do you think you're doing over 
there, Mr. Harper?"

Greg quietly laughed. "Oh, I don't know," he said. 
"When in Rome, I guess."

"These new pantyhose I'm wearing feel pretty good, 
don't they?" Shelly said. "I could tell you how much 
like them by the way you were feeling my legs at the 
restaurant."

Greg nodded, as he closed his eyes and concentrated on 
nothing except the joy of running his fingers over that 
soft exhilarating fabric. 

"They're amazing," he said. "This may be the silkiest 
pair you've ever worn."

"Oh, I'm sure they are," she said. "They're so light 
that it's easy to forget I'm wearing them at all," she 
added, before giving him a stern warning. "I don't mind 
if you touch them," she said. "But we can't do anything 
else that might put a run in them. They cost too much."

Greg nodded. "I understand. I'd hate to see that 
either," he said. "They're just too nice," he added. 
"Do you need more tokens?"

Shelly quickly answered. "Yeah, my screen just went 
off. What are you watching?"

"Some sort of dominatrix with black hair and fake tits 
fucking some chick with a strap-on," he said. "She's 
wearing black stockings," he added, "pretty nice."

"Oh, yeah?" Shelly said. "Is it making your dick hard?"

"No," Greg said. "The only thing doing that is you. 
These hose make me want to rub your legs all day," he 
told her, as he continued rubbing, and then found his 
way up between her legs, where he could feel the 
moisture slowly seeping through.

"Sssssss," Shelly hissed, as Greg touched her spot. 
"Mmmm," she said. "These guys are about to cum all over 
this girl's face. It's making me wet."

Greg smiled. "I noticed," he said, as he slowly circled 
his fingers.

"Take out your cock," Shelly whispered through the 
wall.

"Do what?" Greg asked cautiously.

"You heard me," she said insistently. "Do it before I 
change my mind."

Without another word, Greg slowly pulled down his 
zipper, reached inside his open fly, and then quietly 
withdrew his firm erect penis, as he slowly stepped 
forward and carefully slid his nine-inch shaft through 
the open hole, to which Shelly quickly signaled her 
approval with an audible moan.

"Mmmmm," she said, while Greg instantly shivered at the 
warmth and softness of her delicate fingers. "That's a 
quite a big cock you have there, Mr. Harper," she 
softly whispered. "In fact, it's so big that I'm 
tempted to suggest getting your money back for that 
vibrator."

"Hmm," Greg said thoughtfully. "There's no substitute 
for the real thing," he answered. "But I still think 
you should keep it for emergencies," he told her. 
"Besides," he added. "I kind of like the idea of me 
being at work, while you're at home getting off in your 
pantyhose."

Greg listened for an answer, and then shivered from the 
sensation of what felt like fingers grazing against the 
sensitive ridges of his veiny foreskin. Of course, the 
texture was far too smooth and silky to be bare fingers 
alone. At first, he wondered if maybe she had slid a 
second pair of pantyhose over her hand, before he 
suddenly had a thrilling suspicion what the actual 
sensation might be.

"Is that your foot?" he said, moaning as she teased him 
with a light brushing motion around the swollen head.

Shelly giggled back. "Technically, no," she said. "It's 
actually my foot inside a pair of pantyhose," she 
explained, before adding torturously. "And this is my 
other foot."

Greg gasped. "Uhhnnngggghh! Ohh God! That's nice! 
That's very nice!"

Shelly softly laughed again. "Had a feeling you might 
like that," she said. "My feet are nice and soft, 
aren't they?"

"Mmmmm," Greg moaned, nodding rapidly. "Uh huh…so 
soft…God, I love it!"

"Makes me you want to cum all over my pretty toes, 
doesn't it?" she said, teasing him ruthlessly.

"Mmm yes!" he said. "Don't stop!"

Shelly sucked her teeth, as Greg could feel his aching 
shaft blanketed between the satin soles of her nylon-
bundled feet. 

"No, no," she said warning him. "I'm afraid I can't let 
you do that, sir. You'll just have to save all that cum 
for your girlfriend when you get home."

Greg fought to hold back from behind the thin wall, 
wincing in delight on one side, while on the other 
Shelly gently collared his rampant cock between her 
velvety arches and slowing began stroking his throbbing 
shaft using nothing except the silky embrace of her 
smooth pantyhose-covered feet.

As his screen went off, the room suddenly went dark, 
causing Greg to shift all his focus toward their 
dangerously exciting little game, as he pictured the 
ravishing young blonde behind the wall, perched on a 
little stool, with her red shoes removed, leaning back 
against the wall, with her legs in mid air, and her 
quilted feet curled around the loaded barrel of his 
achingly stiff cock, gliding them back and forth at a 
leisurely pace, softly teasing him with a delicate 
persistence, which instantly lit the fuse that would 
soon make his balls go off like dynamite.

"I'm trying to hold back," he said. "But you're not 
making it easy."

"Oh?" she said. "Am I doing my job too well?"

Greg smiled. "You could say that," he said, as she took 
turns sweeping the webbed tips of her toes against the 
base of his shaft, making light brushing passes against 
his sensitive glans that instantly had Greg groaning 
out loud.

Shelly laughed. "Oh, I'm sorry," she said. "Sometimes I 
can't help myself," she added playfully. "I guess I 
just love to tease," she told him. "But I'm getting a 
little tired, so I think it's time to make you do some 
work," she said mysteriously.

Greg actually found himself sighing in relief, when 
Shelly suddenly released his cock from the velvety grip 
of her silky soles. He listened through the wall, 
hearing the soft clicks of her heels as she slipped 
them back on, before quickly taking his pulsing shaft 
and trapping it between what Greg instantly recognized 
as the pillowy walls of her pantyhose-swaddled thighs.

"I want you to fuck me between my silky legs," Shelly 
said boldly. "Right here…where anyone could find us."

"What if I tear the hose?" Greg asked.

"We'll just have to risk it," she said. "That's the 
whole fun of being a slut," she added. "Besides, I've 
never given you a thigh job like this before."

Greg nodded, as he slowly began sawing his hips back 
and forth. "That's true," he said, "especially not in 
public," he added. "Does that turn you on?"

Shelly squeezed his hard shaft between the soft cushion 
of her legs, nestling his cock right up against the 
wetness of her steamy nylon crotch.

"Can you feel that?" she said. "Can you feel how wet I 
am?" she breathlessly asked. "That should tell you how 
much I love being your slut…especially in public…and 
always in pantyhose."

Greg churned faster as the exquisite sensation felt 
like less like a simple thigh job and more like his 
beefy rod had suddenly been smothered between her 
succulent legs like the meat inside a pantyhose 
sandwich.

At 10 denier, her ultra-shine pantyhose delivered as 
much sheerness as they did shimmer, while the soft airy 
texture filled Greg's entire body with a burning hot 
tension that fumed through his hard-breathing lungs, as 
Shelly locked his cock between her firm supple thighs, 
keeping the silky pressure around his lunging rod until 
Greg could no longer maintain his steady rhythm.

"Oooh," Shelly said, as she reached down and lightly 
began rubbing the swollen head with what felt like the 
wet tip of her finger. "Mmmm," she then added, with a 
faint slurping sound. "Very sweet," she said, as she 
sucked off his pre-cum. "You must be getting close?"

"Uhhh huhhh!" Greg answered, through a heavy ecstatic 
groan. "Ohhhgaawwwd!" he shouted. "You have…no…i-i-
idea…how f-f-fucking…g-g-good…this f-f-feels!"

Shelly giggled. "You're right," she said. "I wouldn't 
have the first clue how good it feels to fuck me 
between my sexy legs in the world's softest pantyhose," 
she told him. "That's why I need you to show me," she 
added seductively. "Are you ready to show me, Mr. 
Harper?"

"Ohhhhffffuuuuccckkkyyyeeeeaaaahhhhh!!!!"

"Mmmm," Shelly whispered through the wall. "That's what 
I like to hear," she said. "But like I told you 
already…I can't let you ruin my new pantyhose…so 
unfortunately you'll just have to cum in my mouth."

Hearing this launched Greg over a rainbow of exploding 
colors that went off like fireworks in the darkness of 
his shadowy cell. The blissful softness of his 
girlfriend's silky hose instantly yielded to the spongy 
wetness of her hot sucking mouth, which Greg instantly 
filled with a tumultuous outpouring of eagerly 
swallowed jizz, while listening to the vocal urgings of 
her insistent moans, as the living embodiment of all 
his pantyhose dreams wantonly encouraged him to empty 
his generous load down the insatiable depths of her 
moist guzzling throat.

Ten minutes after stepping out of the elevator, Greg 
awoke from his blissful reverie, quietly sitting at his 
desk, smiling to himself about waiting less than a 
month before going out and buying that 18-karat 
solitaire diamond ring for his future bride.

Two weeks after that, he whisked her off for a weekend 
in Vegas, where he fervently proposed, beaming with joy 
as she promptly said yes, to which he carefully slipped 
on the ring by sliding it over her dangled finger like 
the one pair of sparkling pantyhose she would never 
take off.

"Mr. Harper," said Wendy, the office receptionist, who 
had apparently done something over the weekend which 
had turned her hair a hideously bright orange. "There's 
a woman here to see you," she softly announced. "She 
said to tell you it's urgent."

Greg frowned. "Any idea who it is?"

Wendy shook her head. "All she gave me was her name," 
she said. "Elise Ambrose," she added. "She said you 
would know who she was."

"Thank you, Wendy," Greg said, nodding, as he waved his 
hand. "Send her right in."

"Yes, sir," Wendy answered, as she quickly vanished 
from sight, while Greg leaned back to ponder why the 
Director of Marketing needed to meet with him all of a 
sudden.

Along with himself, Elise Ambrose had long been rumored 
as being one of a handful of senior managers that were 
on the short list to eventually serve on the board of 
executives, that is, if she wasn't in line to become 
the new chairman and CEO on some future date already.

With an MBA from Duke University, Elise had been placed 
on the corporate fast track from her first steps 
through the ten-story building in her lofty high heels, 
which she liked to wear every day as she marched down 
the halls, with her stately imperious walk, en route to 
her penthouse corner office.

From their handful of brief interactions via email, 
conference calls and random hallway run-ins, Greg had 
seen no particular evidence that her work ethic was any 
more diligent, nor her business savvy any shrewder than 
that of her peers. 

In his mind, Greg believed that the glamorous, long-
stemmed, Southern belle, from Raleigh, North Carolina, 
was a masterful and shameless self-promoter, who 
intimidated her male peers simply because most of the 
top brass were so distracted by her winning combination 
of charm, beauty and style that they were all too busy 
focusing on how to get in her bed, as she skillfully 
catered to their bloated egos, while climbing right 
over them in her $300 designer shoes.

As Greg leaned back in his leather swivel chair, he 
watched as Elise gracefully marched into his office 
with her head up and her shoulders evenly squared by 
the straight alignment of her navy blue, pin-striped 
blazer, worn over a crisp white button-down blouse, 
with enough cleavage exposed to keep anyone from 
accusing her of dressing like a man.

Much of her feminine power appeared to come from the 
rich copper color of her long, frosted brown hair, 
which she recklessly allowed to drape over her 
shoulders, in that same trendy style she had most 
likely stolen from recent photos of Jennifer Aniston.

Her oval face curved evenly as it came down to her 
neatly pointed chin, with a small, sharp-tipped nose, 
clear porcelain skin, and a fearless set of pale blue 
eyes, which often looked gray, while possessing a 
chilling capacity to make anyone feel like an object in 
those infamous moments when she suddenly switched off 
her ability to recognize human emotion and regarded her 
inferiors with a cold, robotic stare.

With her left shoe solidly planted at six o'clock, and 
her right steady at five, she stood there in the center 
of Greg's office and boldly presented her ultra-fit 
body, which was so chiseled and rigorously well-toned 
that the sheer hardness of her tight arms and long, 
powerful legs seemed to demand nothing less than his 
full, undivided attention. 

In a conscious effort to show her that her sudden 
arrival had left him unfazed, Greg deliberately let his 
eyes wander over her impressive form, scanning down to 
the matching pinstripes on her navy blue skirt, which 
was so aggressively short that it clearly violated 
every dress code known to man, yet given the 
unquestionable authority implied by her firm high-
reaching legs, combined with the razor sharp angles of 
her stark black stilettos, no one in their right mind 
had ever been foolish enough to complain about the way 
she dressed.

As if being the most gorgeous female executive in the 
company, with an equally killer body, wasn't enough to 
send mortal men dropping to their knees, Elise also 
understood the power of dressing for success. 

In addition to all of her racy miniskirts and trendy 
high-heels, Greg instantly noticed that Elise also wore 
pantyhose with all of her daily outfits, much like his 
lovely wife.

What's more, Elise never dressed down in the office, 
not even on casual Fridays, which did nothing to lessen 
her snobby reputation, yet left Greg impressed by her 
commitment to maintaining her refined image, as she 
tastefully complimented all of her sexy business suits 
with the proper finishing touch that Greg firmly 
believed could only be obtained through the polished 
look of a well-chosen pair of pantyhose.

As Greg leaned back in his reclining chair and curled 
his fingers behind his head, he slowly bared a thin 
smile, pleased to see that the lovely Ms. Ambrose had 
remained faithful to her daily routine, as she gustily 
cut across his spacious office, striding her long legs, 
which were fittingly adorned in yet another glimmering 
pair of dazzling silk hose.

From his first day in sales, Greg had developed an 
extremely keen eye for spotting pantyhose around the 
office. Unlike most of her female colleagues, with whom 
Greg would often have to look hard to confirm the type 
of hosiery they were actually wearing, Elise never wore 
anything subtle, preferring a high-gloss look over 
anything with a matte finish, which Greg considered her 
subconscious way of overcompensating for having such a 
dull and lifeless personality.

As the morning light shined through the vertical blinds 
of his large picture window, the stillness of her rigid 
posture and the perfect geometry of her hard angular 
stance made her look like a mannequin standing in the 
women's department at Nordstrom, a plastic statue 
artfully crafted so the decreasing width of her slender 
thighs was evenly proportioned to the subtle contours 
of her sleek and narrow calves. 

The light flickering off her pantyhose looked nothing 
short of brilliant as Greg marveled over the warm 
invitation of their bright tantalizing glow. 

He quietly sat there blinking as his mind took a brief 
moment to recover from the vivid daydream in which he 
had just spent the last several minutes recalling one 
of the hottest nights of his life, which had left him 
suffering with a fully erect and highly uncomfortable 
hard-on under his desk, as he shifted awkwardly in his 
cushy leather seat.

"Elise, good morning," he said warmly. "I wasn't 
expecting such an early visit, but it's always pleasure 
to see you."

"Thank you," she said. "And good morning to you as 
well," she added, in that overly enunciated diction 
that she often used to mask her lingering southern 
drawl, which often slipped through whenever she spoke 
in her practiced, well-modulated tone.

"May I sit?" she then asked, with a faint whistle as 
she pronounced the letter S.

Greg gestured toward the plush office chairs, with the 
low arms and suede cushions, located in front of his 
desk.

"Please," he said. "All I've got this morning is a 10 
a.m. meeting with Lawson, so we've got some time," he 
told her. "What's on your mind?"

Elise stepped over to her right, and then gingerly 
settled into the chair, head up, chest out, with her 
lower back every bit as stiff as his cock, as Greg 
prepared to quietly admire the graceful manner in which 
she artfully crossed her legs.

She slowly bent at the knees, as she softly rested her 
backside on the cushion, and then suddenly flicked her 
right foot, as if she intended to kick off her spiked 
heel and send it flying at his head, only to then 
slowly raise her right leg and gently drape it across 
her left, not so much crossing her legs, but fluidly 
arranging them in a wondrously seamless and disarmingly 
cohesive union below the knee.

"Well, first of all," Elise said, as Greg looked down 
to notice that her black pumps were actually 
slingbacks. "I wanted to tell you that I truly enjoyed 
your presentation on Friday. It was a tough room, but 
you handled yourself like a pro. I respect that."

Greg faked a phony smile. It was typical Elise. In her 
mind, image was clearly everything. To her, nothing was 
more important than delivering a great presentation, 
which probably explained why she put so much care into 
her own stunning presentation, which obviously included 
choosing the perfect pantyhose to show off her amazing 
legs. 

"Thank you," Greg said, with a slight nod, as his 
bullshit meter quickly lit up. "Just a lot of smoke and 
mirrors," he added, knowing full well that opening with 
empty praise always spelled trouble. 

"It's been a tough year for everyone," she said, as she 
reached down and absently began rubbing the silky nylon 
on her lower leg. "We're all feeling it, especially 
with all the rumors swirling around right now. I just 
know that in order to remain competitive over the next 
fiscal year that this company will need strong leaders 
who can perform under pressure," she said, "and I can 
easily see that you're one of those people."

Greg nodded. "So what do you know about these rumors?" 
he asked directly.

Elise quietly leaned back in her chair, and lightly 
tossed her hair, before she carefully uncrossed her 
legs, and then swiftly realigned them the opposite way.

"Actually, that's why I'm here," she said. "I wanted to 
have a chance to speak with you myself before you hear 
the news from Lawson."

Greg frowned. "Hear what?" he asked bluntly.

Elise tilted her head like Tiffany would do when she 
was about to make up a story about why she missed 
curfew.

"I'm telling you this in confidence because I respect 
you and I know you would do the same for me," she said.

Greg nodded, with his eyes staring intently. "I'm 
listening."

Elise quietly inhaled. "The rumors you've heard about 
the merger are true," she said. "The deal isn't done 
yet, but by all indications it will most likely go into 
effect immediately following the new year."

Greg shook his head. "That's old news," he said. 
"Lawson told me we would probably be merging with 
Office World six months ago. We were just waiting for 
the market to stabilize."

"Right," Elise said. "And everyone agrees that it's the 
right thing to do," she added. "Business isn't what it 
used to be ten years ago, before Palm, before 
Blackberry, before Windows Mobile," she explained. 
"We're a pen and paper company in a paperless world. 
Without a new business model and the capital to develop 
new products, I hate to say it, but you and I will both 
be out of a job."

Greg leaned forward, clasped his hands together, and 
then placed them on his desk. "I understand all of 
that, Elise," he said. "I've read the trade reports. 
You don't have to tell me this is a dying industry. All 
we need is a little more ingenuity and we'll survive 
this downturn like we've done in the past. I'm not 
worried about it," he said. "But I know that's not why 
you here to see me, so why don't we dispense with the 
run around and get to the point."

As Greg spoke, Elise regarded him with the icy stare 
she typically reserved for one of her subordinates.

"Fine," she said, sucking her teeth. "After the merger 
is announced, there is going to be some restructuring 
of the organization at the corporate level. Come 
January, I expect to be named Senior Vice President of 
Sales and Marketing, at which point your office will 
report directly to me."

Greg leaned back in his seat, and then laughed softly. 
"I see," he said. "So before Lawson could tell me 
himself, you decided to come down and let me know out 
of the goodness of your heart," he added, "despite the 
fact that none of this has even been confirmed."

"It's confirmed," she said. "It just hasn't been made 
public yet," she added. "I knew you would be upset 
about this, so Lawson gave me permission to meet with 
you on my own. Is there are a problem with that?"

"Is there a problem with it?" Greg said. "Are you 
asking if I have problem getting passed over as senior 
VP by someone who was still in a high school when I 
started here?" he asked. "Or are you asking if I'm just 
pissed off that I'll be working for a woman?"

Elise shrugged. "Those issues are irrelevant," she 
said, tossing her hair. "I've paid my dues as much as 
anyone else here. I feel no need to qualify myself to 
you or anyone else. I only came here because I wanted a 
chance to start things off on a positive note."

"Please," he answered harshly. "You came here to 
gloat."

"You should really watch your tone," Elise said. "I'm 
here because I consider you a hard worker with a 
tremendous amount of experience, which could be 
extremely vital during the transition."

Greg shook his head. "Which basically sounds like 
double talk for someone who has suddenly seen that 
she's in way over her head, someone who is desperately 
looking for anyone naïve enough to step in and bail her 
out, while she takes all the credit," he said, with a 
mild snicker. "Sorry, honey," he said. "But I'd say 
you've made your bed on this one."

At that, Elise quickly stood up and folded her arms 
defiantly.

"I don't think I've made myself clear," she said. "So, 
let me spell it out for you," she added, before she 
robotically explained. "As with any merger on this 
scale, a considerable amount of high-level analysis 
will be necessary to identify synergies, reduce 
wasteful expenditures, and eliminate redundancies, 
especially in the middle and upper management 
positions."

Greg folded his arms as well. "Hmm," he said. "Sounds 
like a threat," he added. "What's the problem…Lawson 
too spineless to come down here and fire me himself?"

"Like I said," Elise answered. "We have no intention of 
firing the people we need most. The real reason I'm 
here is because once the deal goes through, Lawson is 
going to allow me to hand pick whomever I want for the 
transition team, which is obviously the best place to 
be if you want any chance of controlling your own 
fate."

Greg smiled. "So this is the part where I'm supposed to 
beg for my job, is that it?"

Elise sighed. "My God, I had no idea you were so hard-
headed," she said, shaking her head.

Greg laughed. "Lawson should have warned you," he said. 
"I'm the most hard-headed son of a bitch in the whole 
company," he said, with a wry smile, "and I don't 
generally respond well to being backed into a corner," 
he added.

Elise answered forcefully. "Greg, listen," she said. 
"This isn't a competition. I didn't come here to fight 
with you. I just need to know if I can count on you to 
be a team player."

Wit that, Greg calmly stood up, stepped around his 
desk, and then strolled all the way across his office, 
where he quietly went over to close the door, before he 
slowly turned back, and boldly walked up beside her.

"The merger isn't the only rumor that's true," he said, 
glaring at her. "I know about you and Lawson. You can 
lie about it if you want, but Ted brought me into this 
department way before anyone ever heard of you or 
whatever charm school it was that he plucked you out 
of, so I'm pretty sure I know him a whole hell of a lot 
better than you do."

Elise smiled. "I expected this from you," she said, 
folding her arms. "You've always had that fire, that 
killer instinct," she noted. "I think that's why I 
respect you so much. That drive to be on top is 
something we have in common. And you're right," she 
admitted. "I did have a brief relationship with Lawson, 
but only after he chased me for weeks, then we went 
right back to business."

"Right," Greg said, "some people call that the world's 
oldest business."

Elise chafed. "This is your last warning," she said. 
"One more comment like that and I'll see that you're 
terminated for insubordination."

"I see," he said. "So you would actually fire me over a 
harmless joke," he said. "After that impassioned speech 
about how much you need me," he added, with a sarcastic 
smile. "You know, for a second, I was almost moved by 
your weak attempt at sincerity. For a moment there, you 
almost sounded human."

Elise bristled again. "I swear to God, I've never met 
anyone so obnoxious in all my life," she said. "What's 
funny is that you're too stupid to realize that if you 
played this just a little bit smart, I could be your 
best friend in the whole world right now."

Greg stepped in, and leaned forward, with his eyes 
peering down over her. 

"What are you suggesting?" he said, with his eyes 
roving down to the sight of white lace peeking out from 
under her blouse. "Are you suggesting that I should 
fuck you to save myself from getting fucked?" he asked 
forwardly. "Is that what you want?" he added. "Would 
you like me to do it right here…right on my desk?"

Elise grinned, as she tilted her head to the left, and 
then swept a lock of hair behind right ear, exposing 
her neck. "You make it sound like a chore," she said. 
"Lawson never had
any complaints," she added, as she stepped in and 
softly whispered. "Besides, I've seen the way you look 
at me. You can't tell me the thought never crossed your 
mind."

Greg answered with a short laugh. "You're pretty hard 
to ignore. I'll give you that," he said. "But the 
difference between me and Lawson is that I'm smart 
enough not to shit where I eat."

Elise sighed. "You're not seeing the big picture here," 
she said. "Lawson would have no reason to interfere 
with daily operations if you and I joined forces," she 
explained. "And I don't know about you, but I 
personally like the idea of sitting next to him in the 
boardroom after I make my first million."

Greg nodded. "No argument there," he said. "There's 
just one little problem though."

"What's that?"

"I've never cheated on my wife," he said. "And I'm not 
about to start now, no matter how much it helps my 
career."

As she listened, Elise stepped over to his desk and 
slid aside his family photos, before scooting up, 
perching on the edge, and then boldly staring in Greg's 
watchful eyes, as she slowly crossed her legs, while 
the rousing swish of her silky pantyhose called to him 
once more.

"So you're turning me down?" she said, as she leaned 
back and dangled her shoe. "No one has ever done that 
before."

Greg bowed his head, averting his lustful gaze, while 
he deeply inhaled, and quietly paused until he found 
the nerve to calmly look up again. "Don't get me 
wrong," he said. "The thought is extremely tempting," 
he confessed. "But I'm also happily married."

Elise responded by slowly rubbing her hand down her 
upper thigh. "But you're also highly attracted to me," 
she said. "I could tell the first day we met," she 
said. "I could even tell during your presentation on 
Friday. You couldn't stop staring at my legs."

Greg nodded. "You do have great legs," he mildly 
admitted. "I can honestly say I've never seen a better 
pair on anyone, next to my wife."

Elise smiled. "Well, I am your new boss," she said, 
with her hand sweeping back and forth over her soft 
hose. "I could always order you to touch them," she 
added. "In that case, you'd just be doing your job."

Greg quietly looked down again, as he scratched his 
head, and then answered with a short sniff. "Hmm," he 
said, as he quietly contemplated all of the potential 
ramifications, none of them good. "Like I said," he 
finally answered. "It's a tempting idea, but I love my 
family too much. I've taught them to live by a strict 
set of rules, which I have no intention of breaking 
myself, not for you or for anyone else," he said, to 
which Elise responded by quickly changing the subject.

"That's fine," she said, with an offhanded shrug. "As 
fun as I'm sure it would be, the last thing I want to 
do is come between you and your family," she added. 
"But can I at least get your opinion on something?"

Greg crooked his head. "On what?"

Elise suddenly raised her right leg. "It's these 
pantyhose," she explained, bending her knee, as she 
lightly caressed the nylon along her outer thigh. "I 
don't know if you've noticed but my skin is rather pale 
and I can't stand anyone seeing my bare legs, which is 
why I always wear hose."

Greg nodded, as he instantly cleared his throat. "They 
look fine to me," he said. "What are they…Hanes or 
something?"

Elise grimaced. "Hanes?" she said, shaking her head 
vehemently. "Oh, Good Lord, no," she said. "I could 
never wear those all day," she explained, as she fondly 
massaged the silky fabric. "These are Givenchy," she 
said. "Although I also like Wolford, Aristoc and Donna 
Karan," she said. "They're more expensive, but you 
definitely get what you pay for."

Greg nodded. "Aristoc," he said knowingly. "My wife 
wears those."

Elise nodded back knowingly. "Ultra shine tights," she 
said, with a smile. "Those are some of my favorites," 
she added. "God, I can't believe I'm sitting here 
talking to you about pantyhose," she said, with a mild 
laugh.

"I know," Greg said, hardly able to believe it himself. 
"So tell me why you need my opinion?"

"I was just curious, really," she said, with another 
distracting leg cross. "I'm wondering if you have any 
idea whether men actually prefer bare legs, since 
that's clearly the style these days. I mean, very few 
women in the office wear hose anymore, and when they do 
they're usually wearing stockings or thick tights if 
it's cold outside. You almost never see sheer pantyhose 
these days, and where I grew up women wore them all the 
time."

Greg tried to swallow, but his mouth had gone dry. "Um, 
I've umm," he stammered, "never really thought about it 
much," he said. "I mean, my wife does wear pantyhose 
quite a bit," he explained. "And I will admit I do 
think they look very nice on a woman's legs, but I can 
only speak for myself."

"Hmm," she said. "So you don't think I draw too much 
attention because I wear them so often?"

Greg shrugged. "I guess that depends on who's looking," 
he said. "Obviously, it hasn't hurt you or we wouldn't 
be having this conversation. Personally, I think you 
should spend more time focusing on your new duties, and 
less time worrying about what people think of your 
legs."

Elise nodded. "You're right," she said. "I'm sorry. I 
know I'm being ridiculous. Honestly, I'm not even sure 
why I care."

Greg smiled. "You care because you've worked extremely 
hard to reach this level and it's important to you that 
people continue to take you seriously," he said. 
"Obviously, you believe your outer appearance plays a 
big role in that, so it's understandable that you might 
be a little sensitive on the subject."

Elise smiled. "Wow," she said. "I'm impressed," she 
added. "Do you always know just what to say?"

Greg shrugged. "Something you learn when you're a 
father."

Elise nodded. "I guess if I'm ever feeling insecure 
about my legs again, I'll know who to come to," she 
said, with a grin. "Perhaps I should add that to your 
job description."

Greg laughed. "Maybe you could include it in the 
benefits."

Elise smiled seductively. "Is that your subtle way of 
saying that my legs turn you on?"

Greg shrugged. "I never denied it," he said. "Honestly, 
I think you're the hottest woman in the building," he 
added. "But I'm still married, so the answer is still 
no."

"Okay," she said. "Just one more question then."

"You're the boss."

Elise smiled at him, as she leaned forward, and then 
softly asked. "Can you look me in the eye and tell me 
that your cock isn't hard right now?"

Again, Greg tried to swallow but couldn't. He knew not 
to answer the question, yet he found himself helplessly 
bound by rule number one.

"I've been hard since the moment you walked in here."

Elise smiled again. "Is it my legs?" she said, glancing 
down at them, as she lovingly rubbed her thigh, and 
then calmly looked up. "Or is it my pantyhose?" she 
whispered.

Greg looked back, sighing under his breath, before 
quietly admitting, "Both." 

Elise smiled. "I had a feeling," she said, as she 
suddenly slipped off her shoes. "I've see how you look 
at my legs. I noticed it the day we met," she told him, 
as she slowly stretched her legs toward his crotch. 
"But I never realized you had such an obsession with 
pantyhose until your presentation last Friday," she 
added, as she settled the soft soles of her feet 
against his firm erection, "which is pretty ironic 
because I purposely wore my ultra shine tights that 
day," she said, with a smile. "They were pretty noisy, 
weren't they?"

As he looked down, Greg sharply inhaled as her delicate 
feet began rubbing against his swollen cock, with her 
bright purple nails shining under the reinforced nylon 
around her wiggling toes, as he stood there helplessly 
staring until he finally summoned the nerve to tear his 
eyes away from the beautiful sheerness of the silky 
hose wrapped around her gorgeous feet, as he slowly 
glanced up, and then questioned her curiously.

"You mean you wore those on purpose?" he said, 
blinking, as Elise quickly smiled.

"Why do you think I got there early?" she said. "I 
needed a front row seat," she added, with a devilish 
grin. "I can't tell you how fun it was to watch your 
eyebrows twitch every time I crossed my legs."

Greg slowly exhaled, as his staunch resistance slowly 
began to fade. "Hmmm," he admitted. "I guess it was a 
little distracting." 

Elise laughed warmly. "You weren't even looking at me," 
she said. "That's when I figured it out," she added 
mysteriously.

Greg furrowed his brow. "Figured what out?"

"I realized you could hear them," she said, as she 
slowly began sliding her legs back and forth, purposely 
recreating the swish-swish sound, which instantly made 
Greg shudder, as his pulse quickened on the spot. Her 
silky thighs steadily rubbed together as she softly 
whispered, "Only a man with a real pantyhose fetish 
would react to that sound," she told him, with a smile 
on her face as she tilted her head and calmly added. "I 
bet your wife wears them for you all the time."

Greg frowned. "Let's not discuss my wife," he said 
sternly. "But for the record, I have no complaints 
about her in that department whatsoever."

"Of course not," Elise said, using her soft feet to 
measure the length of his fully extended nine-inch 
cock. "I mean, why would you?" she added. "From what 
I'm feeling, it's not like many women could resist" she 
said, "not even a cold-hearted bitch like me."

Greg suddenly grabbed her by the ankles, and pried her 
legs open, before lunging forward and pressing his 
stiff hard-on right against her crotch. He then took 
his hands and ran them down the silky nylon along her 
outer thighs, as he leaned forward, with his mouth 
hovering inches above hers.

"You are a cold-hearted bitch," he said, with a 
vengeful snarl.

"I know," Elise answered, through her steady blue eyes. 
"But my legs feel nice and warm, don't they?"

Greg couldn't help smiling, as he took another deep 
breath, while the smooth texture instantly calmed him 
down, as he slowly nodded and quietly answered. "They 
really do...what type of pantyhose are these?"

"They're called Body Gleamers," Elise said, "They're 
made by Givenchy," she explained with a convincing 
French accent. "I wear them a lot," she added. "So get 
used to it."

Greg nodded. "All part of the job, right?"

Elise smiled. "Exactly," she said, "I just need to know 
that once you're under me I can still count on you to 
give it your all."

Greg smiled as he slowly reached down to unbutton her 
blouse. "I'll give you everything I've got. I just hope 
you can handle it," he said, as the blouse opened to 
reveal a white lace bra…and a skinny black wire taped 
in between her breasts.

"What the fuck?" Greg said, as he instantly jumped 
back. "What the hell is that?"

Elise slowly leaned back against the desk and smiled, 
as she casually answered, "Insurance."

Greg slit his eyes with contempt, as he quickly began 
filling with rage, while he fought back the urge to 
physically lash out.

"You won't get away with this," he said, pointing in 
her face.

Elise laughed. "Get away with what?" she said. "All I 
did was put on a pair of pantyhose," she said, as she 
stood up and slipped into her shoes. "How was I 
supposed to know that I found your weakness?" she 
added. "But don't worry," she explained. "This will 
remain our little secret unless you decide to go to 
H.R. in which case I'll be forced to share my version 
of the story."

"But you purposely came in here under false pretenses," 
he said. "I didn't ask you to come see me. You never 
scheduled an appointment."

Elise shrugged. "I'm also not the one who's married," 
she said. "What's your wife's name again…Shelly, 
right?"

Greg clenched his fist. "I swear to God, if you breathe 
a word of this to my wife, I'll…"

"You'll what?" Elise said defiantly. "Go on, say it," 
she added, taunting him as she stuck out her chest. "In 
fact, step closer and say it right into the 
microphone."

Greg fumed as he slowly shook his head. "This isn't 
over."

Elise replied with a cool smile as she arrogantly 
flipped her hair. "Oh, I'm sure it's not," she said. 
"Maybe tomorrow I'll wear something special," she 
added, with an evil grin. "If you liked these," she 
said, lifting her skirt, and then gently stroking her 
upper thigh, "then you're really going to love my 
Wolford Fatals."

Greg slowly exhaled. "Get the hell out of my office," 
he said, shaking his head.

"That's fine," Elise said, as she moved toward the 
door. "I'll let you run off to your little meeting now. 
But I just want you to know that I'm truly looking 
forward to working with you," she told him, through the 
plastic smile on her face. "I'm not sure what it is, 
but somehow I have this feeling that our business 
relationship is going to be extremely smooth from now 
on," she said, as she stepped through the door. "Enjoy 
the rest of your day," she added, as she coldly walked 
out.

* * *

Greg sat in his car about ten minutes after his meeting 
with Lawson glaring at the rear bumper of the car in 
front of him, the driver of which had apparently gone 
blind just before the light turned green.

"Move your fucking ass!" Greg shouted through the 
windshield, after loudly sounding his horn.

After sitting in the CEO's office for nearly an hour, 
getting fed some of the most insipid bullshit he'd ever 
heard in his life about Elise being the best person for 
the job due to all of her passion, integrity and 
creative vision, through which Greg had done his best 
to keep his mouth shut when he knew full well that 
Lawson had been fucking her for months and she was 
about as qualified to run the department as any one of 
the dozen call girls with whom Lawson routinely cheated 
on his wife.

As the driver in front of him finally pulled her head 
out of her ass, Greg felt the vibration of his cell 
phone against his hip. He quickly snatched it with his 
hand, and then answered with a gruff and bitter tone.

"Yeah, who's this?" 

His wife answered with gentle sarcasm in her cool, 
breezy voice. "Well, hello to you, too, sweetheart," 
she said, with a mild laugh. "What's wrong, honey…did 
they get your order wrong at Starbucks again this 
morning?"

"No," Greg said. "Lawson just burned my ass, that's 
all."

"What do you mean?" Shelly said, as her voice filled 
with concern. "Is this about the merger?"

"The merger's a done deal," Greg said, as he angrily 
changed lanes, and then stepped on the gas. "They're 
already forming a team to lead the transition."

"Okay," Shelly said. "So you're stressed because Lawson 
wants you to run the team?"

"No," Greg said. "The team is being run by the new 
senior VP," he told her, "my new boss."

"What?" Shelly said. "But Lawson's been grooming you 
for that job for over a year."

"I know," he said. "But the numbers are way down from 
last year. I can't blame him if he's lost confidence in 
me. It's my own fault."

Shelly sighed. "So, this new boss of yours," she said. 
"Is he someone you know?"

Greg sniffed. "You could say that," he said. "Only it's 
not a he," he added, listening as Shelly quietly 
considered the possible candidates.

"No way!" she finally said, with a gasp. "Elise 
Ambrose!" she loudly blurted. "Are you kidding me?"

Greg laughed quietly. "I wish I was," he said.

"Has Lawson completely lost his mind?" Shelly said. 
"Oh, God, honey, I'm so sorry…you must feel awful about 
this…you did talk to him, right? Please tell me you 
didn't do anything stupid," she said, knowing his 
temper so well.

"We talked," Greg said, stopping at another light. 
"Well, he talked mostly. I pretty much sat there trying 
not to laugh in his face. I'm still pretty shocked, to 
be honest with you."

Shelly sighed. "So what are you going to do?"

Greg shrugged. "Find the nearest empty stool and get 
drunk," he said. "After that, I don't know."

"You left work?" Shelly asked curiously.

"Lawson was kind enough to let me take the rest of the 
day off so I could digest the news," he said. "Is 
everything okay at home?"

"Hmm, not exactly," Shelly said. "I just got a very odd 
phone call from Jonathan's school," she told him. 
"Apparently, there was an incident this morning," she 
added. "They wouldn't go into specifics over the phone. 
They just asked me if someone could come down there and 
bring him home."

Greg responded with a heavy frown. "So he got 
suspended," he said, "and they wouldn't tell you why?"

"No," Shelly said. "But I'm heading down there right 
now." 

Greg shook his head. "Don't bother," he told her. "I'm 
just down the street. I'll take care of it."

"You will?" Shelly said, with relief in her voice. "Oh, 
that would be so sweet of you, honey. I was planning to 
meet Kayla for lunch right before they called," she 
said. "This situation with her and Peter just went from 
bad to worse. I don't think I could handle another 
crisis today," she said, as Greg calmly nodded back.

"Don't worry about it," he said reassuringly. "I'm on 
my way."

* * *

Five minutes later, Greg pulled up in front of the red 
brick archway, which led directly to the main entrance 
of Madison Junior High, where Jonathan stood by the 
curb, joined by a woman who was waiting beside him, 
with her arm around his shoulder.

As Greg stepped out of his car, Jonathan immediately 
looked down, as he normally would whenever his father 
caught him engaging in some sort of shenanigans, as 
Greg tried to imagine what on Earth it could be this 
time.

Judging from her casual attire, Greg assumed that the 
woman standing beside him must have been one of his 
younger teachers.

As he quietly made his approach, the brief once-over 
that he quickly gave her made him think back to the 
teachers he had growing up, none of whom he could ever 
remember being quite as striking as this particular 
young lady, who Greg imagined was probably Irish, with 
her short auburn hair, wholesome green eyes, and light 
buttermilk skin, as she stood there, just a hair taller 
than his son, with her pert breasts rising above the 
low cut neckline of her burnt orange top, while the 
subtle curves leading from her slender hips down to her 
solid thighs were carefully outlined by the shamelessly 
tight jeans molding her sturdy legs all the way down to 
the raised heels of her short black leather boots.

"Mr. Harper?" the woman said, as she smiled and 
extended her hand politely. "My name is Patricia 
Collins," she said. "Jonathan is in my fifth period 
English class," she explained. "I'm sorry. I was 
expecting to see your wife."

Greg nodded as he quickly accepted her gentle 
handshake. The friendliness and sincerity of her warm, 
ingratiating voice was a stark contrast to his chilling 
encounter with Elise. 

"My wife had an important lunch date," he explained. 
"But I left work early today, so I was able to come 
down," he said, glancing at Jonathan, who still 
wouldn't look him in the eye. "Would anyone care to 
tell me what this is all about?" Greg asked, as he 
waited for his son's response.

When Jonathan didn't speak, his teacher presented Greg 
with a digital camera which he quickly recognized as 
the same one he had bought Jonathan for Christmas last 
year.

"Mr. Harper," Miss Collins said. "I'm not sure how else 
to tell you this, but I found some explicit footage 
involving two of my former students on your son's video 
camera."

Greg frowned instantly. "Excuse me," he said, turning 
down to Jonathan, before looking back at his teacher, 
and then quickly shaking his head. "I don't think I 
understand."

Miss Collins looked at Jonathan, and then looked back 
at Greg as she pursed her lips together, and then 
respectfully answered, "Maybe you and I should discuss 
this in private."

Greg quickly nodded, and then told Jonathan to wait for 
him in the car. He then watched as Jonathan quietly 
obeyed his instructions, and waited until his son got 
in and shut the door, before turning back to the lovely 
English teacher, who he finally remembered, while 
thinking to himself that his son's previous description 
really hadn't done her justice.

"So, how do you know these two students?" Greg asked, 
leaning in with great interest. "Exactly who are they?"

"Well," she said, tilting her head, as she timidly 
hunched her shoulders. "As I'm sure you know, teaching 
really doesn't pay well enough to live on," she said, 
as she slowly relaxed the firm muscles of her tight 
upper arms. "I only do it because I love working with 
kids," she explained. "But on nights and weekends, I 
also work as a full-time dance instructor, which is how 
I recognized the girls in the video. They took one of 
my summer classes," she said. "Unless I'm mistaken, the 
blonde is Ashley Summers, and the brunette is Danielle 
Moriarity."

Greg nodded knowingly. "Cheerleaders," he said, "from 
the high school," he added. "Jonathan must have met 
them through his sister."

"That's right," said Miss Collins, showing her dimples 
as she smiled. "Jonathan told me his sister made the 
squad. How is Tiffany?"

"She's doing great," he said. "She loves being on the 
squad. But I have to tell you, Miss Collins…"

"Traci," she said forwardly. "My friends call me 
Traci."

"Okay," he said. "Traci, I have to tell you that if 
what you're saying is true, then what we're talking 
about here is a serious crime. Both of those are girls 
are underage."

"I know," she answered. "But only by a few months," she 
reasoned. "I suppose, normally I'd be completely 
outraged, if I didn't already know what total sluts 
they were," she said, rolling her eyes. "Not to 
mention, they strolled in late for class almost 
everyday, and pretty much acted like they knew 
everything before they got there. I couldn't stand 
either one of them."

"I see," he said, scratching his head. "So, why did you 
call my wife?"

"Truthfully," she said, dropping her tone a level, as 
she leaned in intently. "I'm actually more concerned 
about your son than I am about those two girls," she 
explained, as her eyes glanced over toward Jonathan who 
was waiting quietly in his father's car. "It seems like 
his personality has changed almost overnight," she 
said, as Greg responded with a deeply curious frown.

"In what way?" he asked directly, causing Traci to 
instantly blush.

"Well," she said, pausing for a short breath. "Can I be 
brutally honest?"

"I insist."

"Okay," she said, clearing her throat. "Over the last 
few weeks…I guess really since school started…I've 
noticed that your son has become extremely interested 
in sex."

Greg shrugged it off. "He's thirteen, goes with the 
territory."

Traci smiled. "Oh, believe me, I know," she said, with 
a playful giggle. "I've dealt with enough teenage boys 
to understand why they can't always get up and walk to 
the chalkboard," she said. "But Jonathan's different. 
His knowledge and his attitude about sex are highly 
sophisticated for someone his age."

"Hmm," Greg said probingly. "Can you give me an 
example?"

Traci nodded. "Sometimes he likes to come by and visit 
me during my lunch," she said. "I'm not sure why. I 
guess maybe he has a crush or something, I don't know," 
she added, with a smile. "Either way, I'm usually just 
reading at my desk anyway, so it's not a big deal. 
We've actually had some really interesting 
conversations," she noted fondly. "But the other day he 
made an unusual comment about my particular taste in 
shoes."

"What did he say?" Greg asked.

"Well," she said, squirming uncomfortably, "Initially, 
it seemed like he had just come by to say hello, so I 
invited him in and we made our usual small talk, after 
which I figured he would get up and leave, so I could 
go back to reading my book. Instead, he just sat there, 
not staring exactly, but I could just feel his eyes on 
me in that certain way that a woman can instinctively 
tell when a guy is checking her out." 

Greg nodded. "Doesn't sound that odd to me," he said. 
"What happened then?"

"I was leaning back in my chair, and I had my legs up 
on the desk, when I noticed that he was actually 
staring at my shoes," she said. "I told him that they 
were new, and then I asked him if he thought they 
looked funny. He said no. So then I asked him what was 
so interesting about them, and he said that he didn't 
know, he just had a fetish for women in high heels," 
she said, shaking her head. "I mean, he actually used 
those words."

Greg smiled. "And what's wrong with that?"

Traci scrunched her face. "You mean, you don't find 
that even a little bit strange," she said. "At his age, 
most boys are just trying to get beyond second base. 
They're not going around telling their teachers they 
have a shoe fetish," she said. "I like wearing high 
heels because I'm short," she said. "But now whenever 
he's in my class, I feel like I need to hide my shoes 
so he won't get turned on. Don't you think that's odd?"

Greg shrugged. "Not really," he said. "But I'll tell 
you what I do find interesting."

"What's that?" she said, quirking her head.

"I think it's interesting that a woman in your 
position, surrounded by all those excitable teenage 
boys, would willingly choose to dress the way you do?" 
he said bluntly.

"Excuse me?" Traci said, setting her hands on her hips. 
"Are you saying I dress like a slut?"

Greg shrugged. "I don't see you everyday. But my son 
does…and he seems to think so."

"Mr. Harper," she said, steaming instantly, as Greg 
quickly cut her off.

"Greg's fine," he said, with a casual smile.

"Mr. Harper," she repeated bitterly. "Just because I'm 
one of the few teachers who actually takes care of her 
body and likes to wear nice clothes, that doesn't 
suddenly turn me into the town whore."

"You're right," he said. "And I wasn't trying to imply 
that you were. I'm just saying that you might be 
subconsciously sending the wrong message."

"What message?" she yelled. "That Miss Collins wants to 
fuck her students?"

Greg smiled. "I never accused you of wanting to fuck 
your students. But I could say that your clothes 
suggest otherwise."

"Well, you're wrong," she said, folding her arms. 
"Obviously, your son doesn't know what the hell he's 
talking about. He's just got sex on the brain."

"I see," Greg said, with a steady nod. "Just out of 
curiosity, do you remember wearing pink panties on 
Friday?"

"What…?" she said, shaking her head with a puzzled look 
on her face. "I don't know…I think so…why?"

Greg smiled. "How do you think I know that?"

"Oh, let me guess," she said. "Did Jonathan tell you 
that I flashed my pink panties to the whole class?"

"No," he said. "But he did say the skirt you were 
wearing was so short that he could easily see them as 
you were walking up the stairs. How many other teachers 
do you think he could say that about?"

Traci sighed. "I thought we were here to talk about 
your son's behavior, not mine."

Greg shrugged. "You're his teacher," he said. "You're 
the one who sets the example."

Traci laughed. "So what am I supposed to do," she said. 
"Wear a potato sack everyday?"

Greg smiled. "No," he said. "You shouldn't change who 
you are," he told her. "But you also shouldn't make 
Jonathan feel bad about himself either," he explained. 
"His mother and I have raised him to believe that sex 
isn't a bad thing. If you stop judging him and learn to 
respect the fact that he's more mature than the other 
boys, then I think you'll get along much better."

"I see," she said. "So you're basically telling me not 
to change?"

Greg nodded. "Not one bit," he said. "In fact, I'm 
quite certain that as you learn to embrace Jonathan for 
who he is that you may even be surprised by what the 
two of you can actually learn from each other."

"Hmm," she said thoughtfully. "That's actually really 
good advice," she told him. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," he said. "There is one thing though," 
he added casually.

"What's that?" she asked, quirking her head again.

"You should really think about wearing pantyhose with 
those little skirts you like wearing so much," he 
flatly suggested. "I'm sure you can't get much teaching 
done with all the boys dropping their pencils to see 
your underwear everyday."

Traci paused. "I guess I could do that," she said, 
slowly nodding back. "Pantyhose just seem so old-
fashioned these days." 

Greg nodded patiently. "I believe a wise man once said 
that a woman with good taste never looks out of style," 
he told her. "Not that your legs need any help."

Traci smiled. "Thank you," she said. "I just wish they 
were longer," she admitted. "But dancing for all these 
years does have its advantages. You should stop by. I 
do give lessons to men too."

"I appreciate that," Greg said. "For now, I think you 
should focus on teaching my son."

"Fair enough," Traci said. "Although, I have to admit 
I'm pretty curious to know what it is you think he can 
teach me."

Greg smiled. "That's something Jonathan will have to 
show you," he said. "Just remember to take my advice on 
the pantyhose."

* * *

Before Greg got back into his car, Miss Collins agreed 
she would not say anything about the video to the 
school principal on the condition that Jonathan be kept 
at home for the rest of the week in order to send a 
clear message to him and his fellow students that 
bringing such material to school would not go 
unpunished.

Upon entering the car, where Jonathan idly stared at 
his English teacher's tight little ass as she walked 
away in her painted on jeans, Greg immediately flipped 
on the camera to see the outrageous footage with his 
own two eyes.

The image of Ashley getting railed on the hood of a 
Mustang while licking Danielle's pussy instantly made 
Greg turn to his son to ask how he'd ever managed to 
convince the girls to let him record the whole sordid 
scene.

Jonathan then reluctantly explained that he and Tiffany 
had convinced all of the girls at the car wash to get 
naked for money, which then led to him brokering a deal 
with the man in the Mustang to have sex with Ashley and 
Danielle for $300 dollars. 

Greg couldn't believe his ears, but his immediate 
concern came at the thought of Jonathan and Tiffany 
flaunting their illicit relationship in front of their 
fellow classmates.

Jonathan tried to assure his father that the video 
would keep the girls quiet, but Greg believed he could 
never be too careful when it came to protecting his 
family's secret.

As his mind instantly shifted into immediate damage 
control, Greg stepped on the gas and raced all the way 
home, where he promptly dropped Jonathan off.

"Are you sure you don't want me to go with you?" 
Jonathan asked, before stepping out of the car.

"Not this time," he said. "Why don't you go spend some 
time with your mother?" Greg said. "Unless you'd rather 
hang out with your new girlfriend."

Jonathan quickly smiled, as the thought of Shannon 
seemed to cloud out everything else in his mind. 

After a short pause, he turned back to his father, and 
answered with a short nod. "Yeah, I could do that," he 
said.

Greg smiled. "Tell your mother I'll be home before 
dinner," he said, leaving Jonathan by the curb, as he 
sped off in an urgent rush toward Tiffany's school.

* * *

As Greg drove along contemplating the best way to 
handle the dicey situation, his mind struggled to block 
out the inescapable guilt he couldn't help feeling over 
the pleasure he had taken in groping his new boss and 
rubbing her silky pantyhose, while he mentally kicked 
himself for being too stupid to realize he was being 
set up.

He slowly breathed from behind the wheel, as he 
desperately struggled to steady his rattled nerves, 
while his mind reeled back one dangerously seductive 
image after another from Ashley and Danielle, to Traci, 
and then Elise, before he finally found solace in the 
comforting thought of his wife at the French 
restaurant, smiling again as he fondly remembered where 
they had ended that amazing night.

Thinking of Shelly in the video booth gave Greg a 
twisted idea, as he quickly stopped off at a 
neighborhood romance shop called Lovers Lane, which was 
basically just an upscale version of the same seedy 
porn shop where he bought Shelly her special toy.

After purchasing the small yet essential gadget needed 
to pull off his risky plan, he promptly got back in his 
car and continued on toward the school.

He parked his car over by the bleachers, as he stepped 
out onto the quiet campus of his alma mater, where he 
proudly marched across the empty football field that he 
still considered to be his domain. 

Sitting on the bleachers, smoking and laughing, amidst 
a loyal flock of pretty young girls, were three of the 
most popular players on the current team, Josh Brody, 
Matt Cooper and Kevin Riley, all of whom were obviously 
ditching class when they suddenly spotted the 
unexpected appearance of their local hero who slowly 
stepped in among the crowd.

"Holy shit!" Josh said, as his eyes popped out, and he 
instantly stepped forward and thrust out his hand. 
"It's Greg fucking Harper!"

Greg nodded politely and smiled back, as he firmly 
shook hands with the speedy running back. "How's it 
going, Josh?" he said. "Hell of a game you played 
against Glendale last month."

Josh smiled, as he turned and tapped Matt on his 
enormously broad shoulders. "Couldn't have done it 
without my blocker," he said. "We call him the human 
bulldozer."

Greg reached over to shake hands with the massive 
offensive lineman who swallowed Greg's large hand with 
his even larger mitt and then firmly squeezed.

"Dude, you are the man," Matt said, being a man of few 
words.

"Thank you," Greg said, before turning to Kevin, with a 
gracious smile. "But I think we all know who the man is 
around here these days."

Kevin smiled, as he reached over and shook his hands 
with his idol. "I appreciate that, Mr. Harper," said 
the young quarterback. "But I think all of your records 
are safe for another year," he added. "All I care about 
is beating Arcadia on Friday."

Greg nodded. "Just don't give up any big plays, spread 
the ball on offense and watch your turnovers," he said. 
"You'll be fine."

Kevin nodded. "No problem," he said, crooking his head 
curiously. "So, what brings you back to your old 
stomping ground?" he asked. "Are you looking for 
Tiffany?"

Greg shook his head. "Actually, no…I'm looking for 
Ashley Summers," he said. "Do you know where I could 
find her?"

Kevin checked his watch. "I just saw her about an hour 
ago," he said. "She told me she couldn't ditch because 
she had a math test," he added. "But lunch starts in 
about five minutes."

"That's perfect," Greg said. "Would you mind asking her 
to come out here and talk to me for a few minutes?"

Kevin threw up his hands as if Greg even had to ask. 
"For you," he said, with a smile. "I'd have Matt drag 
her out here by her fake blonde hair."

Matt snorted. "That'd be fun."

After thanking the guys for their help, Matt and Josh 
sent the other girls back inside, as Greg returned to 
his car, where he waited behind the wheel, until he saw 
Kevin walking back with Ashley in tow, as he firmly 
held her by the elbow.

"What the fuck?" Ashley yelled. "There's no TV crew out 
here!" she said, as she tried to wrench her arm away 
from Kevin's tight grip. "Let go of me, you piece of 
shit!"

Greg watched as Kevin finally let go. Ashley tried to 
bolt back toward the school but Matt stepped in and 
quickly blocked her path.

"There's a guy here who wants to talk to you," Kevin 
said. "He said it won't take long."

Ashley turned and eyed the car suspiciously. "What is 
he a cop?"

"No," Kevin said. "I promise he's not a cop."

Ashley smirked. "And why the hell should I trust you?"

"Come on, Ashley," Josh said, reasoning with her. "It's 
not like anything's going to happen. We'll wait here 
the whole time"

Ashley paused and thought it over for a moment. "You 
guys promise not to leave?" she asked nervously.

Matt and Josh nodded, while Kevin answered for the 
group. "Yeah, we promise."

Ashley sighed. "Okay," she said. "But if I'm not out of 
that car in ten minutes, then one of you better come 
check on me."

Kevin nodded. "Ten minutes," he said, "no problem."

Greg turned to his side, as Ashley slowly approached 
the car, and then cautiously opened the unlocked door, 
before leaning down and carefully climbing into the 
backseat.

Greg regarded her quietly, noting that the busty head 
cheerleader looked rather sexy in her uniform, as she 
sat there with a blank look on her face, blinking at 
him over the corner of his bucket leather seat.

"Do you know who I am?" Greg asked matter-of-factly.

Ashley nodded slowly. "You're Tiffany's father, right?"

Greg nodded. "That's right," he said. "Do you have any 
idea why I need to speak with you?"

Ashley shrugged. "Umm, no," she said, with a smirk. 
"But I'm not exactly a mind reader," she added. "And 
you've got about nine minutes left so I suggest you 
hurry up."

Greg slit his eyes intently as he sternly answered. "I 
suggest you watch that attitude. I need to ask you some 
questions and when we're done talking then I'll let you 
go."

"Oh, I think we're done talking already," she said 
reaching for the door, which Greg anticipated as he 
instantly pressed the power lock.

"Maybe I need to refresh your memory," he said, as he 
reached over to the passenger's seat and held up his 
son's digital camera. "Does this look familiar?"

Ashley quickly sank back against the seat, as her face 
turned completely red.

"How many people know?" she asked immediately.

"A few," Greg said. "Do you remember Traci Collins?" 
Greg asked, as Ashley quietly nodded. "Well, apparently 
she remembers you too," he added. "She teaches at my 
son's school. She caught him showing the video to some 
friends during her class. I went to see her today and 
we worked out a deal which should keep her quiet."

"Okay," Ashley said. "So what else is there to talk 
about?" she wondered. "If no one else knows, I'm sure 
as hell not going to say anything."

Greg paused to quietly clear his throat. "The problem 
is you and your friend are both underage," he said. 
"And my son recorded you performing illegal sex acts on 
a video camera that I bought for him."

"So," Ashley said, with a shrug. "Just erase it."

"I could do that," Greg said. "And I probably will," he 
added. "But not yet. Not until I'm fully convinced that 
you can keep a secret."

Ashley raised one eyebrow. "And how am I supposed to do 
that?"

Greg smiled. "That's easy," he said. "For the next hour 
or so, you're going to do everything I tell you," he 
told her, "unless you'd like me to show this clip to 
those three gentlemen standing outside."

Ashley responded with a painfully seductive smile. "I 
see," she said, dipping her head, as her blue eyes 
slowly rose up. "Is that all you want?" she calmly 
whispered. "I could easily get you off and still get 
back to class in time for chemistry."

Greg smiled as he shook his head. "Yes," he said. 
"That's pretty obvious from what I've seen. But I don't 
cheat on my wife, especially not with my daughter's 
schoolmates. I'm only here to see how far I can test 
your loyalty."

"Oh, really?" Ashley said, as her voiced filled with 
sarcasm. "No wonder your kids turned out so weird," she 
added. "What are you going to do…make me sit here and 
talk dirty while you jerk off?"

"Not quite," he said, as he reached into his pocket and 
pulled out a small egg-shaped vibrator, with no wires 
attached, before slowly reaching forward to place it in 
her hand.

"What's that for?" Ashley said, blinking at the small 
silver object.

"Take it in your hand," he said, as Ashley cautiously 
reached out, and then opened her palm, where Greg 
gently set it down.

"Now," he said. "I want you to reach into your tights 
and then take that little egg and place it inside your 
vagina."

Ashley tilted her head, with an odd mix of fear and 
curiosity on her wrinkled face. "And then what 
happens?"

Greg smiled. "Actually, I'm not sure," he said. "But I 
think you'll be the first to know."

With no further questions, Ashley slowly lifted her 
skirt, where she reluctantly gave Greg his first roving 
glimpse of the thick nylon crotch that spanned between 
her open legs in densely-woven threads that were still 
sheer enough for Greg to easily see that the head 
cheerleader had chosen to wear her durable flesh-
colored tights with no panties underneath.

"No panties, huh," Greg said, intending it more as a 
fond observation than a critique.

Ashley grinned as she slid her hand under the snappy 
waistband of her glossy semi-opaque hose.

"I don't like underwear," she said, sucking her breath 
at the moment of cold metal insertion, "just gets in 
the way," she then added softly.

As she spoke, Kevin suddenly came knocking at the 
window, checking in after ten minutes, just as he 
agreed. Greg pressed the button, which instantly 
unlocked the door, when he signaled for Kevin to get 
in.

As the door opened, Ashley turned and smiled at the 
young quarterback, who smiled back with his gleaming 
blue eyes, his light brown crew cut, and the clean-
shaven, teen idol looks of a young Tom Brady. 

"Did you need me Mr. Harper?" Kevin asked readily.

"I do," Greg said, with an even nod. "In fact, I'll 
probably need all three of you guys," he added, as he 
turned the key and started the engine. "We're about to 
take Ashley on a little drive."

Kevin smiled, and then called over to Matt and Josh, 
telling them to jump in. Matt being the biggest of the 
three jocks, with his curly red hair, instantly struck 
Greg as a muscular and meaner looking version of Seth 
Rogen, when he wisely climbed in up front. 

Josh, on the other hand, with his brown spiky hair, 
frosted at the tips, along with his pencil-thin 
sideburns, looked more like someone from the Backstreet 
Boys than a bruising, hard-nosed running back, as he 
ran around and hopped in on the other side, placing 
Ashley in the middle.

While it was difficult for him to get a real sense of 
her natural beauty under all of her bleached blonde 
hair and gaudy make-up, Greg had to admit that the head 
cheerleader had obviously earned that title for a 
reason, as he couldn't help thinking that the young 
Miss Summers looked almost as hot as the young blonde 
who played Jack Bauer's daughter on "24." 

"So, where are we headed, Mr. Harper?" Kevin asked from 
the backseat.

"Like it matters," Josh said, with a laugh. "We've got 
Ashley Summers in here with her skirt up and no panties 
on!"

Kevin nodded. "True," he said. "But we can't do much 
while she's wearing those awful tights."

Hearing this, Greg firmly pronounced from the driver's 
seat, "The tights stay on, no matter what. Understood?"

Ashley nervously scanned over the three boys, and then 
quickly protested. "Wait a second, Mr. Harper. I said I 
would get you off. I never said anything about these 
guys."

Instead of answering, Greg simply pressed the button on 
the small remote in his left hand, causing Ashley to 
gasp and flinch from the sudden rush of unexpected 
pleasure.

"…hmmpphh…ooohh…huhh…ohhgawwd…" she moaned instantly.

"Holy shit!" Josh shouted. "What is that…some voodoo 
shit?"

Greg laughed. "It's a remote vibrator," he said. "She 
just inserted it a minute ago."

Kevin nodded wisely. "So that's what are the tights are 
for," he said. "So it won't fall out."

Greg nodded, as he calmly released the button, which 
finally allowed Ashley to stop squirming.

"How long do you plan to do this?" Ashley said, 
catching her breath. "You can't keep me here all day. I 
do have other classes to go to."

Kevin laughed. "Since when do you care about class," he 
said. "You ditch more than we do."

"Whatever," she said. "I'm still not going anywhere 
with you guys, so you better stop this car and let me 
g-g-go-oohh...haahh…ooohhhffffuccckkk!" she moaned 
again as Greg quickly changed her mind. 
"Huhhh…mmmppphh…unnghh…hahhh…ohh…ohh…oh-kay...okay!"

Josh quickly busted out laughing. "This is better than 
Tickle Me Elmo," he said, as he reached out and gave 
Kevin a high-five. "We should take her to the mall. 
What do you think, Coop?"

"Fuck yeah," Matt grunted from the front seat.

"Way ahead of you guys," Greg said, as he turned onto 
Highway 43 en route to the Sierra Vista shopping center 
just three exits down along the empty freeway.

* * *

As Greg and his motley crew of high school associates 
entered the relatively quiet mall, Ashley cautiously 
walked in first, scanning for familiar faces in every 
direction, as Greg calmly observed her from behind.

Compared to his petite daughter, with her full package 
of soft natural curves, Ashley was much taller, with 
longer and thinner legs that seem to go on forever 
under the heavy material of her sparkling semi-sheer 
tights.

To see Ashley walking with her long skinny legs and 
those giant fake boobs pushing out against her red and 
white uniform instantly brought back memories of young 
Shelly, as Greg thought back to his wife's former 
cheerleading days, when his old teammates used to 
describe her as "tits on a stick," long before she had 
two kids and added those few extra pounds, which never 
fully went away.

Of course, binging on several gallons of cum every 
month had obviously done wonders to restore his wife's 
slender figure. In the year in which she had greedily 
begun drinking Jonathan's spunk every chance she got, 
it was impossible for Greg not to notice the renewed 
luster of her wavy blonde hair, the added glow of her 
smooth tawny skin, or the increased fullness of her 
large supple breasts, not to mention the endless 
wetness of her slick juicy pussy, combined with her 
insatiable sex drive, and the flawless beauty of her 
pantyhose-covered legs, which Greg hoped he would find 
waiting for him at home as soon as he was done showing 
the so-called head cheerleader who was really the boss.

"Are you guys hungry?" Greg said, turning back to Kevin 
and his two loyal wingmen, who were busy pointing and 
snickering with each other, as Ashley quietly walked 
ahead, trying to pretend they weren't there.

"I could eat," Matt said, nodding steadily. Josh and 
Kevin shrugged indifferently, as Greg promptly led them 
through the food court, where he and Ashley walked up 
to an obese teenage male of 16 with greasy black hair 
and blotchy red acne all over his face, as he stood 
behind the counter of a local burger chain.

"Hi," Greg said, smiling politely. "I'd like three 
double cheeseburgers, with three French fries, and 
three cold sodas, please," he told the young man, who 
quickly punched the keypad with his finger, as Greg 
turned to Ashley who was quietly staring up at the 
overhead menu.

"Did you want something," he said, as Ashley turned to 
him and nodded, before turning back to make her 
request.

"Yes," she said, opening her mouth as Greg pressed the 
remote right on queue. "May I p-p-p-leeeaase h-h-
haaavvee uuhhh…ohhh….hmmpphh…" she moaned, as her 
eyelids fluttered and her lips quivered rapidly, while 
she suddenly grabbed onto the counter. "J-j-ju-ju-
stt…uhhh...d-d-d-iii-eee-t…mmmmm..goddammnn 
you…uhhh…ssoo..sooo good…I mean…soo..ohhgaawdd…p-p-
please…turn…it..uhh…turn it OFF!!!"

Greg smiled as he kindly complied with her request, 
releasing the button, as he turned back to the young 
man behind the counter.

"I think the young lady just wants a diet soda," he 
said, as Josh and Kevin stood behind them laughing 
hysterically.

"Umm, okay," said the server. "Uh, are you sure she's 
okay?"

Greg shrugged. "She's off her meds," he said. "She just 
had a little seizure."

The young boy frowned suspiciously, before turning pack 
to bundle all the food. He then handed Ashley her diet 
beverage, which she quickly gulped down, as Greg paid 
for the food by credit card, taking the bags, and then 
turning back to hand them off to his three male 
companions.

As the group proceeded out of the food court, Matt was 
the first one who quickly began chomping down his 
double burger, as Ashley came up and walked beside Greg 
with a weary look on her already glistening face.

"What now?" Kevin said, as they continued along the 
spacious causeway, passing various storefronts, as 
young couples, older business men, and occasional mall 
employees walked by one or two at a time. 

Josh quickly chimed in. Out of all of them, he seemed 
to be the one with the most perverted imagination.

"We should make her do some gymnastics in her uniform," 
he suggested wickedly.

Greg smiled. "I like that," he said, turning to Ashley. 
"How about a hand stand?"

Ashley turned to complain, when Greg instantly held up 
the remote, to which she promptly yielded to his will, 
waiting until she saw no one coming, before she finally 
moved into position.

Greg quietly stood there beside the three young men, 
marveling at the ease with which Ashley suddenly went 
down, balancing all of her weight on the palms of her 
hands as she pressed them flat against the cold marble 
floor, when her long skinny legs suddenly came swinging 
above her head, as she easily stuck them straight up, 
while instinctively pointing the tips of her all-white 
sneakers.

As Ashley held herself up by her rigid arms, with all 
of her effort focused on remaining vertical, she was 
helpless against the force of gravity that caused her 
skirt to fall from around her waist, revealing her 
nylon crotch and the visible racing stripe, which was 
neatly trimmed like an arrow pointing out the indecent 
exposure of her teenage pussy to Greg, his three male 
cohorts, and any other fortunate shopper who might 
happen to pass by at that very moment.

"May I get down now?" she asked impatiently.

Greg turned to Josh who was standing closest to him and 
asked, "What do you think? Have you seen enough?"

Josh shook his head. "I think she should spread her 
legs now," he said, as Ashley angrily snapped at him 
with her legs still looming off the floor.

"Fuck that!" she said, as Greg stepped over to make her 
reconsider.

"You heard the man," he said decisively. "Let's see you 
spread those legs nice and wide."

As Greg gave the order, a well-dressed man in a sharp-
looking business suit walked by just in time to watch 
as Ashley obediently split her legs like a goal post, 
fanning her feet apart to stretch her wiry legs in both 
directions, and then holding them at that slanted 
angle, while they glimmered under the eye-catching 
sheen of her glossy pantyhose.

"Great legs," said the smiling businessman, who seemed 
to be just as taken as Greg was by the high shine 
coming off her lustrous tights, which beautifully 
hovered in mid-air while she kept them spread open, 
until hearing the strange voice made her promptly bring 
them right down, as she instantly vaulted back to her 
feet.

"Well done," Greg said, with a light round of applause. 
"You even made a new fan."

Ashley smirked. "Look, I'm sure this is all very 
amusing to you in some sick way, but I really would 
like to go back to school now," she said, before 
turning to the sound of unexpected female voice who 
called out her name.

As Ashley did a sudden 180, Greg looked up to a see a 
trim brunette whom he instantly recognized as the co-
star of Jonathan's video.

"Ashley," said Danielle, with her brown eyes staring 
hard as she stalked over toward her friend.

"Fuck," Ashley said, as she saw Danielle steadily 
approaching in a pink off-the-shoulder top, cinched 
around her narrow waist by a wide black belt, with 
black leggings and black ankle boots, toting a small 
shopping bag.

"I thought you told me you couldn't ditch today because 
you had a math test," Danielle said with an offended 
look on her face, as she looked over toward Kevin and 
the other boys with no trace of a smile.

"I'm not ditching," Ashley said. "Not exactly."

"Oh," Danielle said, rolling her eyes. "Sure, 
whatever," she added, sucking her teeth, "like all of a 
sudden they have special field trips just for 
cheerleaders and football players," she said, folding 
her arms. "If you didn't want to hang out with me, you 
should have just said so," she added bitterly. "And why 
the hell do you look all sweaty?" she said, with a firm 
scowl.

The moment Ashley started to answer, Greg hit the 
button, making her knees lock together from the instant 
shock.

"Sssssss," Ashley hissed, wincing hard, as she fought 
back the urge to moan from the persistent vibration 
under her pantyhose. "Hmmrrrrhh…ahhh…I'm…s-s-s-
sorry…hmmpphh…" she added, biting down on her bottom 
lip. "Can I…uhh…hnngawwh…call y-y-ooo-ooh…later?"

Danielle took a step back, as she scanned Ashley up and 
down as if she was on drugs.

"Guys, this isn't funny?" she said finally 
acknowledging the other three boys. "Tell me you didn't 
slip something in her drink."

Josh quickly threw his hands up. "Swear to God," he 
said. "She was like that when he found her. Ask Mr. 
Harper," he said, pointing to his left.

Danielle turned, and then blinked briefly, as it 
finally dawned on her where she had seen Greg before.

"That's right. You're Tiff's dad," she said, pointing 
at him. "What the fuck?" she said, shaking her head. 
"Am I having a bad trip or something because this is 
all too weird?"

Greg smiled. "Everything's fine," he said. "Ashley is 
just doing some volunteer work for me today," he 
explained. "No big deal."

"Ah," Danielle said. "I get it," she added. "Like an 
intern or something?"

Greg nodded. "Exactly," he replied. "Ashley is my new 
intern."

Danielle nodded, and then wagged her fingers at the 
other three. "What about those three hooligans?" she 
asked. "Are they interns too?"

Greg shook his head. "No, they're just ditching 
school," he said, "same as you."

"Right," she said. "Well, if you guys promise not tell 
anyone you saw me, then I promise I'll keep my mouth 
shut too," she wisely suggested. "Deal?"

Greg turned to see Kevin nodding in response, and then 
turned back to mildly answer for everyone. "Deal," he 
said, with a single nod.

As Danielle turned to walk away, she sneered back at 
Ashley, with a harsh look of contempt. "You better have 
a great fucking story for me later, you worthless 
cunt."

Ashley quietly watched as Danielle stormed off, and 
then turned back with a sad look in her eyes.

"Great," she said. "Now my best friend hates me. Thanks 
a lot," she whined.

Greg shook his head, as he answered heartlessly. 
"That's a shame. Maybe there's something I could do to 
help cheer you up," he said, glancing over to the boys. 
"Something maybe my friends here might enjoy as well," 
he added ominously.

"Now, you're talking," Josh said, as he stepped up and 
rubbed his hands together. "And I've got the perfect 
place," he added, before leading the march back to 
Greg's car.


* * *

The boy's locker room back at the school had a private 
section strictly for use only by the football team. It 
was intended for the coaching staff to have a secure 
place where they could lock away all the team gear, 
including pads, jerseys, pants, jockstraps, helmets and 
cleats, along with food, water, nutritional and medical 
supplies, as well as video and computer equipment, all 
of which needed to be locked up as well.

As co-captains of the team, Josh and Kevin both had 
keys to the private locker room, which looked nothing 
at all like Greg remembered when he walked inside for 
the first time in several years.

"Man, this is some set up," he said, as he noted the 
color TV hanging down from the ceiling over in one 
corner, and a small kitchenette with table, chairs, 
microwave, plus a small refrigerator.

The floor was lined with gray carpeting and had mirrors 
on the sidewalls, along with three distinct rows of 
tall red lockers, including one that split the room 
right down the middle, with long wooden benches on 
either side, one of which Greg walked over and stepped 
on with his left foot.

"Nice to see my annual donations have gone to such good 
use," Greg said, with a smile. "What do you think 
Ashley?" he said, as Josh cut her off, with a mild 
snicker.

"Ashley's been down here a few times already."

Ashley rolled her eyes. "You wish," she said. 

"Oh, that's right," Josh said, as he slid up and 
wrapped his arm around her waist. "I forgot. You don't 
like to mess around with us lowly high school boys."

"Yeah," Matt said, "thinks she's too good for us."

"I never said that," Ashley said. "You guys might 
actually have a chance if you weren't so rude to me all 
the time."

"Rude?" Kevin said. "How are we the ones being rude?" 
he asked, as he stepped forward, and then gently lifted 
the hem of her skirt. 

"You're the one who insists on wearing this hot little 
uniform every day," he whispered in his low baritone. 
"Like you have to make sure everyone can see your sexy 
legs," he added. "In your shiny pantyhose, with your 
big tits in everybody's face. It's like you walk around 
with a sign that says, 'Look but don't touch.'"

Ashley laughed. "Exactly," she said. "I'm head 
cheerleader," she argued. "People look at me everywhere 
I go. It's my job to look good," she added. "And I 
don't give a fuck what you've have heard, I'm not a 
whore. I just let people choose to make up whatever 
stories they want because it doesn't matter what anyone 
says as long as everyone is still interested."

Greg leaned back against the middle lockers and calmly 
folded his arms. "I've heard some of those stories," he 
quickly reminded her. "They're not all made up."

Josh laughed. "See," he said. "Even Tiff's father knows 
you're full of shit."

"Yeah," Kevin said. "And it must be a good story, if 
even he's heard about it," he said turning to Greg. 
"Don't leave us hanging, Mr. Harper. Tell us what you 
know."

Ashley turned pale as she looked over when Greg started 
to speak.

"Like I said before," he mildly repeated, staring 
intently at her trembling face. "I'm not here to give 
away your secrets," he said. "I'm here because I need 
you to prove that you can keep your mouth shut."

Kevin smiled. "Sounds like a challenge," he said, 
turning to Matt. "We love a good challenge, right 
Coop?"

"Fuck yeah," Matt grunted again as he leaned against 
the lockers to Ashley's right.

Ashley sighed, before slowly shaking her head. 
"Seriously," she said, as her eyelids fluttered 
anxiously. "Do you really think I would fuck all three 
of you at the same time?"

Josh leaned over and brushed his hand down her cheek. 
"You never know until you try," he said. "Besides, 
you're the most competitive girl in the whole school. 
You can't possibly back down now. How would you live 
with yourself?"

"He's right," Kevin said. "Plus I'm sure Mr. Harper 
didn't come all this way just to have you let him 
down," he said, before kindly adding. "Don't worry, 
we'll be gentle."

Ashley sighed again, as she brushed Josh away, and then 
stepped over and sat down on the edge of the long 
wooden bench. 

"I don't know," she said, rubbing her forehead. "Just 
give me a second to think about this, okay," she asked 
politely. "I'm not saying no. I just need a few seconds 
to calm my nerves."

At that, Greg patiently stepped forward. "Maybe I can 
help you with that," he said, as he noted the 
bewildered look on Ashley's blinking face.

As if the platinum blonde had forgotten it was there, 
Ashley suddenly gasped, when Greg hit the button in his 
hand once again, increasing the vibration to its second 
highest level.

The blinding sensation caused Ashley to throw her head 
back, as her short skirt instantly rode up over her 
nylon-clad legs. Her mouth gaped and her hot breath 
choked out of her heaving lungs as if she was suddenly 
throttled by another involuntary seizure over which she 
had no control.

"Ooooohhh…oooh..yyeeaahh…yeaaahh…hmmpphh…ssssss…huhhh…" 
Ashley cried ecstatically, as she slid back on the wide 
bench, with her white sneakers slightly elevated and 
her shiny legs bent at the knee, sparkling in her 
shimmery hose, as she propped up her prominent tits, 
and her hand quickly went down to rub her clit, where 
she vigorously worked it through the thick nylon 
barrier.

"Yeah, rub that pussy," Josh said, as he stood there 
drooling over her, while squeezing the hard-on growing 
under his baggy jeans.

"Are you guys sure we won't be seen in here?" Greg 
asked just to be certain.

"Don't worry," Kevin said. "Coach Klein never comes in 
this early. Plus he told us it was cool if we hung out 
down here as long as we kept our grades up," he said.

"The only thing that's up right now is my cock," Josh 
quickly blurted. "I mean, holy shit, look at her!" he 
added, as the most popular girl in school openly 
masturbated in front of Greg and all the boys like the 
horniest and most depraved slut they had ever seen, 
with no regard for who was watching, as only the 
feeling of her building climax seemed to matter.

As Josh spoke, Greg continued to watch, with his arms 
folded and his left shoulder leaning against the 
lockers, as he patiently resisted the urge to increase 
the speed right away, preferring to watch Ashley writhe 
on the bench, with her hips undulating obscenely as she 
blissfully played with herself over her sparkling 
pantyhose, ignoring all of the other voices as she 
filled the musty men's locker room with her own lustful 
feminine moans.

Greg's steady eyes focused on the wet spot spreading 
between her open legs, as her sopping wet pussy leaked 
through the gauzy nylon, while the soggy cotton panel 
made a futile effort to soak up her flooding juices 
from the insistent electric vibrations, combined with 
the added clitoral stimulation provided by her own 
rapidly circulating fingers, as she bucked, moaned, and 
openly creamed her wet pantyhose before a stunned and 
captivated audience.

Naturally, Josh was the first one to pull out his cock 
and stroke it as he stood by the bench, leering over 
Ashley, who seemed to feel his presence as he moved 
closer and she quickly opened her eyes, smiling, as she 
reached up and replaced his hand with her own.

She must have been worried that her hand wasn't quite 
slick enough so she quickly let go and sat up for just 
a second, before spitting a large glob of fresh saliva 
right in her hand, and then clasping her thin fingers 
around his shaft once more, as she laid back and softly 
began jerking him off using short twisting strokes.

Greg stepped to the forefront, with Josh on her left, 
Matt on her right, and Kevin watching from behind. 

Greg moved to the edge of the bench, with a clear view 
of Ashley's fingers earnestly rubbing her needy clit 
with a pained expression on her glistening face, 
perhaps frustrated by the obstruction of her thick 
pantyhose which were clearly blocking her persistent 
fingers from reaching the one spot where she 
desperately needed to feel them most.

As Greg peered over her, he held the remote out to her 
curious gaze, making a point to calmly demonstrate the 
ultimate power he wielded over her in that moment, as 
he gradually reduced the vibrator to its lowest speed.

"Did that feel good?" he asked, as her hand slowly 
worked up and down the stiff cock that stuck through 
Josh's open fly. 

Ashley responded with a heartfelt sigh, as she simply 
nodded and softly whispered back, "Uh huh," making Greg 
instantly reply with a firm scowl.

"The correct answer is 'Yes, Mr. Harper,'" he told her 
sternly.

"Yes…" she said, with her breasts rising up and down 
under the tight cloth of her red and white top. "Yes, 
Mr. Harper."

"Yes, what?"

"It felt good, Mr. Harper," she answered, staring right 
at him.

"Did you cum?" he asked, as Ashley slowly shook her 
head.

"No, sir," she answered. "I mean…no, Mr. Harper. I 
didn't."

"Would you like that?" he said probingly. "Would you 
like to cum right here in the locker room…in front of 
all us?"

Ashley nodded immediately. "Yes, please," she 
practically begged. "I mean, yes, Mr. Harper. I would 
like to cum," she answered sincerely. "May I cum 
please?"

Greg smiled, as he looked up and glanced at the three 
gentlemen who were all quietly watching, except Josh, 
whose eyes were mainly focused on Ashley's hand as she 
skillfully stroked his stiff cock.

"Well, it's fine with me," he said, without even 
bothering to look down at her face. "But first you 
should ask the guys how they feel about it," he said. 
"Go on. Ask them."

Ashley lied quietly for a moment, as her eyes flitted 
about, noting the lustful expressions on each of their 
faces, before she softly cleared her throat and then 
nervously whispered.

"Umm, guys…would it be all right for Mr. Harper to make 
me cum now?"

Matt had been quiet for a while before her question 
finally made him answer in his gruff, brutish voice, 
"After we fuck you first."

His blunt answer made Ashley turn to him right away. 
Josh sucked his teeth with annoyance as Ashley suddenly 
took her hand away, turning to her right, where she 
quickly reached for Matt's zipper.

"That's what you've always wanted to do me, right 
Coop?" she said, with Greg looking on as she seemed to 
get more excited by the moment. "You've been dying to 
fuck me since the seventh grade, haven't you?"

"Uh huh," Matt said, as Ashley quickly undid his pants, 
and then reached in to haul out his thick, shovel-
headed cock.

"Mmmm," Ashley said, flicking the tip with her pink 
tongue. "Pretty fat cock you've got here," she told 
him, as her eyes sparkled with adoration. "I can only 
imagine how much you've dreamed about pounding my 
little pussy with all this meat."

"Damn right," Matt answered bluntly. As Ashley leaned 
forward and kissed the mushroom head with her soft 
puckered lips.

"Well, I guess today is your lucky day," she said, as 
her lips opened and Matt groaned when his rampant cock 
instantly entered Ashley's inviting mouth. Greg looked 
on with quiet satisfaction as Ashley strained to get 
her mouth around the wide shaft, with his substantial 
girth stretching her lips wide as she struggled to 
swallow a good five or six inches as far down as she 
possibly could.

As she pulled back, Matt's bloated cock came out all 
slick and shiny, gleaming with spit that served as a 
perfect lubricant for her hand as she quickly wrapped 
her fingers around the base, before bringing him to 
maximum hardness with a steady series of slow extended 
strokes.

She turned over her shoulder when she suddenly 
remembered Josh who stood there looking impatient as he 
waited for her to finish what she had started, until 
Ashley quickly sat up, and then planted her white 
sneakers on the floor, straddling the wooden bench as 
she parted her pantyhose-shrouded legs, with her left 
hand promptly switching back to Josh, as her right took 
a firm hold of Matt's swollen hog without even skipping 
a beat.

Greg stood before Ashley, watching as she comfortably 
sat there with a cock in each hand, steadily jerking 
off both boys at the same time, with Kevin quietly 
leaning back against the far wall, observing the 
twisted scene as if to quietly learn from the master.

With both hands urgently churning over their two hard 
cocks, Ashley quickly turned away from Matt and Josh, 
facing forward, where her eyes widened at the 
unexpected sight of Greg holding up Jonathan's video 
camera, as she promptly focused on the red light, which 
meant it was already on.

"Say your name," Greg said, as he framed the lens 
squarely around the wanton expression on the popular 
cheerleader's face.

Ashley froze, and her lipid blue eyes nervously 
fluttered toward the camera, while her intolerable 
moment of hesitation forced Greg to instantly remind 
her that he was still in charge.

When the forceful vibrations suddenly returned, Greg 
smiled at the rapturous look on Ashley's face, as her 
eyes shut, her jaw dropped, and her head suddenly fell 
forward and then rolled back, with her voice pining 
toward the ceiling in a loud series of weeping cries 
and violent shudders from the intense pleasure 
originating somewhere inside her tight silky pantyhose.

"OhhhhggggGaaAaaWwwddD!!!" Ashley wailed. "OhhFffuccKK! 
YesSss! HmmMgghhuugghh Ohh Huhhh Uhh Huhh Uhh Huhh 
YesSss Yess Ohhfuckyesss!" she cried, as Greg smiled in 
his moment of complete dominance.

"Would you like us to see you cum now, Ashley?" he 
said. "Would you like me to turn it up even higher?"

Ashley nodded like she had a screw loose. "Yessss!" she 
sobbed. "Please, Mr. Harper…Please, make me cum! I'll 
do whatever you say…Just let me cum right now!"

Greg refused her desperate petition, as he cruelly 
lowered the speed yet again. "Say your name," he 
insisted, as the lens zoomed toward her face.

"Ashley," she said, with her face sweaty and trembling, 
"Ashley Summers."

"Good," Greg said. "Now, look in the camera and tell us 
why you came here today."

Ashley waited a moment, and then tilted her head, 
slitting her eyes defiantly, as she turned to Josh and 
lewdly spit on the head of his cock, stroking it 
faster, before turning over to Matt and squeezing out a 
drop off pre-cum which she leaned down to quickly swipe 
with her tongue.

She turned back, with her eyes boldly staring through 
the watchful lens, as if her urgent tone spoke for 
every pantyhose-wearing, high school cheerleader in 
America. 

"I came here to get fucked," Ashley said.

Greg smiled. "Good girl," he said. "Now, why don't you 
let my three friends here assist you with that," he 
told her, before whispering sadistically. "And then 
maybe…after they fuck you good and hard… after you 
drain all their cocks…maybe then, I'll let you cum."

He then waited, as he firmly held his ground, watching 
as Ashley sat there breathing heavily, with her head 
turning and her eyes darting around the room, before 
she desperately turned back to Greg, quietly staring 
back at him as her heaving chest seemed to fill with 
resolve, and her steely eyes boldly locked in on her 
mission, as the head cheerleader slowly began nodding 
her head, while a knowing smile slowly spread across 
her face, as if the platinum blonde had suddenly 
discovered her true calling in life.

With Josh's inflamed member poking at her impatiently, 
she instantly turned and angrily lunged at it with a 
vengeance, shoveling it down her gullet, gorging it 
down her throat like she hadn't eaten in days, before 
bobbing, slurping and sloshing it in her mouth like the 
most ravenous whore Greg had ever seen.

Her curly blonde hair recklessly flung about as the 
steamy locker room filled with her lewd smacking and 
sucking noises, while she greedily fed herself with a 
hearty mouthful of Josh's throbbing man-meat, before 
quickly turning to scarf down Matt's beefy chode in a 
voracious display of cock-sucking dementia, leaving 
more drool and spittle behind than a slobbering infant 
as it ran down his swollen overloaded balls.

"Is this what you wanted to see, Mr. Harper?" she said, 
staring right at the camera. "Do you like watching me 
act like a whore?"

Greg looked at her and smiled. "I don't see any 
acting," he said. "All I see is a young girl being 
herself."

Ashley smiled back. "Well, all I see is a fucked up, 
perverted, old man who clearly has some weird issues 
with pantyhose…and cheerleaders, too…which is pretty 
sick considering that your own daughter is on our 
squad."

Greg calmly inhaled as he fought back the urge to 
angrily defend himself against her personal attack, 
choosing instead to wield his authority another way.

"I think you've said enough for one day," Greg said, as 
he gestured for Kevin to step forward. Kevin quickly 
complied, as Greg politely requested his assistance. 
"Why don't you see if you can keep her quiet for a 
while?"

"I can do that," Kevin said, as he patiently dropped 
his pants. 

While Kevin labored to withdraw his hefty penis from 
his loose boxers, Greg couldn't help but notice that 
the strapping young quarterback had clearly taken over 
his role as the big man on campus. Josh's erect member 
looked fairly average, at perhaps six inches, while 
Matt could at least boast that what he lacked in 
length, he definitely made up for in girth, but it was 
Kevin who stood out for truly possessing the total 
package. 

His semi-hard cock flopped out and noisily slapped 
against his thigh, as he shoved his boxers down the 
floor. He then came up behind Ashley, with his swollen 
knob hovering a good eight or nine inches out in front 
of him, pulsing with an angry, menacing aura, as the 
head flared and watery semen dripped from the narrow 
slit as it lunged over Ashley's left shoulder, which is 
where she first saw it as she slowly turned and her 
eyes completely bugged out like she had just been 
attacked by his disturbingly large, one-eyed monster.

"Oh, my God, Kevin!" she said. "That fucking thing is 
enormous!"

Kevin smiled as he laughed softly. "Don't act so 
surprised," he said. "I'm sure Lisa told you all about 
it."

Ashley nodded. "Well, yeah…I mean, she described it…" 
she said, as she studied it from all angles. "But 
seeing it up close is just…" her words faltered, as she 
paused for a short breath, "unreal," she then 
whispered. 

Kevin smiled as he took her by the shoulders, and then 
gently laid her down on her back.

"Let me show you how real it is," he said, as he 
hunched down, poising the fat, spongy head over her 
open mouth, before gradually sinking a good three 
quarters of his steely rod down her forcefully 
penetrated throat.

"Unngguhhrrllurrkkgghh…hhmPhmlmshlUmppHhh…gGllaacgckk…p
hlOrrPhhh!" Ashley gurgled, as Kevin plunged his veiny 
shaft deep inside her open mouth, while her hands 
continued the dual hand job on both Matt and Josh, 
neither of whom could help but watch as Kevin stuffed 
Ashley's mouth clear down to her tonsils and then 
slowly began rocking his hips back and forth to 
steadily fuck her face.

As he leaned back from across the room, Greg silently 
amused himself with lurid close ups of the pretty 
blonde diva in all of her penis pumping and dick 
swallowing glory, smiling to himself as he imagined 
Jonathan's mouth gaping in disbelief when he showed him 
the footage over dinner, before he purposely panned 
down for a tight shot of the spreading condition of her 
wet nylon crotch, which served as strong evidence that 
Ashley was clearly enjoying her transformation into 
"Pantyhose Slut Barbie."

She continued to let Kevin use her mouth with a 
"Ggllummph" and a "Ggglaaiigghhcck" and a 
"Ggglloorrpphh" with his massive cock hanging between 
his legs like a flesh-colored billy club repeatedly 
sinking into her open throat until Ashley began whining 
with an urgent need for relief.

"Mmmmpphhhhhh!!!" she moaned desperately. "Huhhhh…no 
more…" she told him, with her head hanging off the 
edge.

"Let's turn her around," Josh said, as he took her by 
the thighs, slid her down, and then rolled her onto her 
stomach, before pulling her up to her hands and knees.

After stepping out of his jeans and throwing his shirt 
off, Josh kicked off his boxers, and then crept up 
behind her wearing nothing but his sneakers. At that 
point, Greg and Ashley were the only two people left in 
the room who were still fully dressed, while the three 
boys proudly surrounded the sexy blonde cheerleader 
with their raging cocks out.

Greg didn't mind that Ashley hadn't bothered to 
undress, as capturing her on video in exactly the same 
colors worn by his lovely daughter, and his wife before 
her, deeply enhanced the sheer lewdness of the entire 
spectacle as he silently witnessed the complete 
recklessness in which the head cheerleader, the 
standard bearer of charm and decorum, eagerly defiled 
the moral values that her vaunted institution was 
designed to instill.

As Josh crept behind her and quickly flipped up her 
skirt, instead of making a hole like Greg would do, he 
took both hands and steadily rolled Ashley's pantyhose 
down to mid-thigh, just enough to reveal the colorful 
pink lips of her moist runny slit, removing the small 
vibrator, which he handed to Greg, while honoring his 
request to leave on her sexy tights.

"Come on, Josh…Fuck me!" Ashley said over her shoulder, 
with her ass raised and her thighs spread apart, before 
turning back and taking hold of Kevin's cock, which she 
lovingly stroked with one hand, despite really needing 
two.

Josh threw himself into Ashley's wet gash, holding 
nothing back, as the well-trained muscles of his broad 
upper thighs enabled him to deliver each powerful 
thrust with all the same strength and energy of a 
critical fourth-down rush. 

Watching Josh level the skinny blonde with such a 
brutal assault reminded Greg of his first night with 
Shelly when he was so overwhelmed with excitement, so 
thrilled beyond belief to be fucking her through her 
pantyhose, that he pounded her with his cock like a 
jackhammer, as she screamed, hollered and scratched his 
back, begging him not to stop, begging him to keep 
right on fucking that tight dripping snatch as hard as 
he wanted, to take it, to use it, to own that pussy, to 
fuck it through the rip in her soft silky hose, and 
then show her how much she pleased him by pulling out 
and squirting all over her lovely legs, leaving a huge 
sticky mess all over her glistening cum-soaked 
pantyhose.

While Ashley had nothing on Greg's wife, she certainly 
had charms of her own, most notably, her lean pliable 
legs, which she could easily lift and stretch over her 
head, or slide down into a full split, making it clear 
to see how Josh had no trouble bending her over and 
slamming his cock through her tight rubbery walls, as 
she slavishly continued servicing Kevin's cock with her 
attentive lips and fingers, while Matt quietly 
pleasured himself from a short watchful distance away.

"Hey, Coop," Josh said, turning to the big guy. "You 
want some of this?"

"Fuck, yeah," Matt said, charging right over, as Josh 
quickly pulled out.

The sudden switch had a definite impact on the young 
blonde who instantly gasped when Matt carelessly plowed 
into her with all the lumbering thickness of his 
bulldozing cock, as the camera focused in on the 
graphic manner in which his stout fleshy rod stretched 
her lips open and clung to his bulky shaft with the 
velvet grip of her sweet teenage pussy, as Greg could 
fully empathize from his own addiction to that 
delicious forbidden fruit.

"That's it, don't be shy," Ashley told him. "Shove that 
big cock in my tight fuckhole!"

Matt grunted as his penis sank to the hilt. Unlike 
Josh, who was all power and speed, Matt took his time, 
as if to savor the feeling of something he had dreamed 
about doing since puberty, while Greg had to slightly 
reposition in order to see Ashley around his large 
frame. He zoomed out for a wide shot, in which Matt 
barely moved, while Ashley did all the work, smiling 
over her shoulder as she rolled her hips, teasing him 
with the lurid motion of her ass swiveling round and 
round.

"Tell me how it feels, Coop" she said. "Tell me how it 
feels to finally have your dick inside me."

"Beats my hand any day," Matt answered, with a mild 
sniff.

Ashley laughed softly. "I should hope so," she said. 
"If I'd known you were going to fill me up like this, 
we could have done it a long time ago," she said, with 
another giggle.

Josh smiled and laughed as well, "Better late than 
never," he said. "Right, Coop."

"Damn straight," Matt said, grinning with pleasure, as 
Ashley continued to lewdly grind her hips, with his 
thick cock firmly wedged in her tight spongy little 
twat, before Matt turned to Kevin who was busy keeping 
Ashley's mouth full. 

"I think it's your turn, boss," Matt said.

"Yeah, go on Riley," Josh quickly added. "Tear that 
shit up!"

Ashley seemed to agree with the others, as Kevin's cock 
noisily came slurping out of her mouth. She glanced up 
at the team quarterback, and spoke earnestly, before 
making her urgent plea.

"It's true," Ashley whispered. "Lisa did tell me 
everything" she said, "and I hated her for it," she 
added, with a soft sigh. "But I think I'd forget how 
hard you fucked her, if you bent me over and fucked me 
the same way, right now."

Kevin answered with a simple yet comprehending nod, 
before Matt and Josh respectfully stepped back, 
watching as Kevin took her by the shoulders, then spun 
her around, giving Greg a clear shot of her radiant 
blonde hair, as it fell down to form the perfect frame 
for her oval eyes, her slim nose, and her glossy pink 
lips.

Kevin was neither as impatient nor as listless as his 
two young teammates, as he confidently mounted Ashley 
like a young filly, respecting her pedigree, yet firmly 
taking the reins, as he steadied himself with a solid 
grip of her shoulders, before he crouched down, hunched 
forward, and then speared every rock-hard inch of his 
mighty lance straight up to her stomach. 

Ashley screamed, "Ohhhhhgggaaaawwwwwddd!!!" as Kevin 
forcefully impaled her, pausing a moment as he calmly 
eased back, and then instantly railed his rigid pole 
into her yet again, each thrust producing another loud 
scream, and the resounding smack of his driving hips 
slamming against her prone asscheeks. 

"Uhhhh!! Uhhh!! Haahh!! Haahh!!" Ashley moaned 
rhythmically as Kevin leveled into her with the full 
strength of his sturdy athletic frame. Greg could see 
the young man clearly knew what he was doing solely by 
the look on Ashley's face, with her eyes switching from 
tightly closed to completely wide-open delirium, head 
dripping, mouth gaping and hair tossing, with her 
fingers clawing the edge of the bench as she held on 
for dear life.

"Uhhh!! Uhhh!! Yesss!! Yess!!" Ashley hollered, as 
Kevin steadily fucked her wet hole with all the 
patience and stamina Greg had come to respect in the 
young field general to whom he'd reluctantly passed the 
baton, but now watched with admiration as Kevin 
masterfully broke the head cheerleader of all her 
school spirit.

With the lens framed around Ashley's face, Greg studied 
her euphoric expressions with keen interest, calling to 
her softly as he noticed the telltale quiver of her 
bottom lip.

"Are you getting close?"

"Uhh huhhh!!!" she vocally replied. "Mmm yesss!!! His 
cock feels…uhh huhh uhh huhhh…it feels 
so..oohhhgaawwdddd…so good…it's so big…so 
hard…ohhgawwwdd yesss…he's gonna make me cum!!!"

Greg frowned, knowing he wasn't quite done with his 
plan, with his left hand still holding the camera, as 
he promptly lifted his right palm and politely signaled 
for Kevin to stop. 

Like the dutiful soldier that he was, Kevin quickly 
complied, as he stepped back, leaving Ashley to suffer 
on the verge yet again, as her pleading eyes reached 
out and begged Greg for mercy.

"Why are you doing this?" she whined. "I've never done 
anything to hurt your family."

"Maybe not," Greg said, shaking his head. "But now I 
know you never will," he added, as he stepped forward 
and held out the silver vibrator once more. "You've 
proven almost everything I needed to know," he told 
her, "so now I feel you've earned your reward."

Greg then handed her the vibrator and instructed her to 
place it back inside her well-stretched cunt, after 
which he watched as she followed his instructions to 
carefully pull up her shimmery tights, which in his 
view were nothing more than a thicker version of the 
same sheer-to-waist pantyhose worn by his wife and 
daughter every day, only these were specially designed 
for pretty young cheerleaders to wear under their short 
skirts as if their nubile teenage flesh wasn't 
appealing enough without gilding their flexible legs 
under the sparkling sheen of sexy nylon.

Greg then directed the boys to stand on each side of 
the bench, while Ashley was told to lie on her back, 
with her legs spread, while the camera slowly panned 
from her dewy nylon seam, to her flat stomach, over the 
swell of her huge tits, to the strained look of 
desperation on her exhausted face.

When the audible buzz returned, Ashley instantly arched 
her back, hissing through her teeth, and then moaning 
softly under her breath, before easing back down and 
closing her eyes with a light whimper as Greg purposely 
kept the speed low.

"If you want it faster, just tell me," he told her, to 
which Ashley nodded her head, while the boys turned to 
Greg waiting for instructions. 

As Greg looked down, he could see that Ashley's eyes 
had reopened, as she dreamily looked up, and then 
slowly offered a weary smile to each of the three boys, 
starting with Matt, and then shifting to Josh, before 
finally ending with Kevin at whom her gaze lingered the 
longest. 

"Is there something you'd like to say to the boys?" 
Greg asked probingly.

Ashley's lips curled into a naughty smile as the camera 
zoomed in and her breathless voice echoed through the 
private room.

"Keep stroking your cocks," she whispered. "I want you 
all to cum all over my face."

As she made her urgent request, her hand promptly went 
down between her legs where she pressed her fingers 
against her clit and steadily circled her fingers over 
the silky nylon, causing Greg to ponder why she hadn't 
just slipped her hand under the waistband, until it 
quickly dawned on him that perhaps she actually 
preferred the sensation of masturbating through her 
pantyhose.

"You can turn it up now," she said, with her hips 
writhing and her shimmering legs wantonly spread open 
as she laid there beneath the three actively stroking 
young males who had rapidly begun pumping their tight 
fists.

The pace climbed to medium, and again Ashley arched her 
back, with her form-fitting top clinging to her fake 
breasts even tighter, as her huge tits swelled against 
the straining polyester, until the red and white shell 
was completely smothering her silicone balloons.

The boys were beating off vigorously, as they watched 
in silence, while Ashley lifted her silky legs and 
absently rotated her ankles in her all-white Keds with 
matching socks, panting and breathing heavier by the 
second with her eyes mostly glued on Kevin who hovered 
directly above her with the blunt end of his enormous 
cock just inches from her lips as she cooed and swooned 
at the mere sight of it.

"Cum for me," Ashley purred. "All over my face."

In two seconds, Josh fired off first. He aimed for her 
face, but the sudden blast shot out so quickly that he 
ended up spilling his milky load all over the school's 
initials, which stood up in diagonal letters across her 
massive jugs, which Josh was completely helpless to 
stop from squirting all over as he completely 
redecorated her ample chest.

Matt quickly added to the mess, although his aim was 
much better, with heavy streams splashing across her 
cheek, if not spraying her in the mouth, before 
generously dropping a long greasy rope that stretched 
clear across her face, with his final shot leaving a 
thick clump of jizz in her hair.

Kevin then hunched over and carefully took aim, as he 
furiously pumped his humongous cock over the glowing 
smile on Ashley's cum-drizzled face, on which Greg 
promptly zoomed in for the climactic moment when she 
looked up and saw Kevin about to cum. 

Greg switched the vibrator all the way up, leaving it 
at full speed until Ashley had no voice left to scream, 
as Kevin proceeded to cover her pretty face under a 
rich dressing of creamy white sperm that littered her 
beaming smile in a thick sheet of sticky man-juice, 
pushing Ashley from one screaming orgasm to another, 
while Greg staunchly continued recording, until she and 
all the boys were completely spent.

As Greg calmly prepared to walk out and leave them all 
just as they were, he quietly shut off the camera, and 
then tucked it back into his jacket, before thanking 
the boys for being such good sports, and commending 
Ashley for her extraordinary level of cooperation.

He moved toward the door, and then briefly paused, as 
he turned back to Ashley to deliver his parting shot.

"I have to say, you worked pretty damn hard today," he 
told her, with a respectful nod. "If you ever need a 
reference, let me know," he said, as he quietly stepped 
out.

* * *

When Greg arrived back at the house, he could not have 
been happier then when he walked through his living 
room and stepped out onto patio to find his lovely wife 
laying by the pool, sunning herself on the chaise 
lounge, in a skimpy orange bikini top and a pair of 
black slides, as the afternoon sun brightly reflected 
off her suntan pantyhose in gleaming bands of light 
that shined all the way down her outstretched legs as 
if her lush calves and sumptuous thighs had been 
buffed, polished and painted with liquid gold, for no 
other reason than to give her legs the warmest and most 
enticing glow as Greg stood there deeply entranced by 
all of their lustrous splendor.

As she sat there in her dark sunglasses, listening to 
music on her portable headphones, she seemed to have no 
clue while her husband stood there openly admiring her 
lovely form from just a few feet away. 

While the rich bronze color of her hose gave her no 
practical reason to sunbathe, Greg couldn't help 
staring with envy at the calm and carefree look on her 
face, as she peacefully relaxed in a way that he simply 
could not do, as he soberly considered all that he had 
done that day to protect his family, and the terrible 
line he had almost crossed with his new boss.

His deep regret over that incident moved him to perform 
a sudden act of contrition as he solemnly pulled out 
his cock, like an offering to the higher power who had 
inexplicably chosen to bless him with such a beautiful 
wife, a wife whom he vowed to never again take for 
granted.

He gradually stepped closer, when his scent or his 
shadow must have roused her from her gentle repose, as 
Shelly turned to the lurid sight of his hand slowly 
gliding over his ardent member, a sight she greeted 
with pleasant surprise as she raised her eyebrows over 
the rim of her dark shades, with her soft lips curling 
to a warm and sexy smile. 

As she opened her mouth to speak, Greg quickly raised a 
finger up to his lips and silenced her with a light 
shushing sound.

"Don't talk," he softly whispered. "Just pretend I'm 
not here."

Without a word, Shelly calmly readjusted her glasses, 
keeping them on over her eyes, as she lightly tossed 
her blonde hair, before returning to her original 
reclined position.

She leisurely crossed her legs at the ankles, where her 
right foot idly began swinging back and forth like a 
lazy dog unable to control its restless tail.

The alluring movement led Greg to stroke his cock at 
the same easy rhythm, as the constant wagging of her 
delicate foot made him watch with breathless 
anticipation as her black sandal dangled from the tip 
of her toe, where it would easily fall off and hit the 
ground at any second.

No sooner did Greg have this thought, then her shoe 
suddenly slipped off and landed on the wooden deck with 
a light clopping sound. 

She uncrossed her ankles, and then slowly bent her left 
leg, before stretching it down over her right, where 
she repeated the same wagging motion with her left 
foot, as she carelessly dangled her opposite shoe until 
it also slipped off and fell down beside the other.

Her toenails were painted a hot red, as Greg noticed 
when she spread out each of her tiny little toes, and 
then wiggled them inside the hose, before she circled 
her weary ankles to work out the kinks. She then 
briefly took a second to stretch out her calves, which 
she followed by bending one leg up to her chest, and 
then gently settling it back down, before she gingerly 
flexed back the other. 

Greg couldn't tell how much of this was being done for 
his benefit, but it hardly mattered as he stood there 
earnestly jerking off over the stunning vision of his 
wife lounging by the pool in her pantyhose.

His excitement climbed to a new level, when Shelly 
treated him to a vivid reminder of her own lithe and 
flexible form, as she slowly raised both of her knees, 
folding them in unison toward her massive chest, before 
vertically extending her silk-laden stems toward the 
heavens where her sunny legs obviously belonged.

With her pretty toes pointed perfectly straight, Greg 
watched in awe as Shelly slowly fanned her legs apart, 
and then held them open, as she brought her hands down 
and ran them along her silky inner thighs. She bended 
her knees, with her legs briefly spread eagle, before 
stretching them straight out, and then lowering them 
down to the chair, with her knees open and her calves 
hanging down from each side.

From there, Shelly lifted her right hand and slid it 
inside her pantyhose, where she used two fingers to 
spread the lips of her moist pussy, hissing under her 
breath, as she quickly slipped in her middle finger, 
and then gingerly sliced it in and out, before slowly 
withdrawing to bring the fresh juices up to her mouth 
for a quick taste.

She whimpered from the pleasure of her own tangy 
flavor, as she liberally doused her finger with spit 
and then quickly brought it down to her nylon-covered 
slit, causing the silky threads to shine even more as 
she smeared them with her own dewy saliva.

The lewd sequence of fingering her twat, tasting the 
juices, and then smearing her spit all over her nylon 
covered-crotch repeated itself several times, until the 
combination of warm slobber and fresh pussy juice made 
the wet spot double in size, as she leaned back, slid 
her fingers back under the hose, and then blissfully 
started circling her fingers around her swollen clit 
rapidly.

Although Greg had told her to ignore him, her jostling 
fingers made it clear that his wife could not ignore 
her own building excitement, which Greg knowingly 
attributed to the intense pleasure she drew from 
showing off her silky legs and teasing him like the 
true pantyhose slut that she was.

The overwhelming idea that his wife had become so 
helplessly aroused by teasing him in her pantyhose, the 
thrilling notion that letting him stand there just 
watching her had in turn made her pussy so dripping wet 
as well, excited Greg to such an explosive degree that 
the only way to properly express his immeasurable 
devotion was through a sudden barrage of high-arching 
cum that sprayed out and splattered his lovely wife 
under blankets of falling white semen, with each blast 
sailing through the air and whipping across her legs, 
streaking her pantyhose with countless ribbons of thick 
waxy sperm.

As Greg continued to squirt all over his wife's sexy 
legs, he looked down at the vast pool of slimy 
discharge oozing over the glossy hose, when his wife 
let out a sudden gasp, followed by a sharp tremor, then 
another, and another again, as her whole body was 
wracked by a powerful and vocal orgasm of her own, 
while Greg looked on for several enthralling moments, 
as his wife appeared helpless against the shaking and 
trembling that seized her from head to toe, until 
finally she managed to catch her breath, and then 
instantly reached down to slowly slide her hand through 
the gooey mess running down her thigh, coating each 
finger in a rich lather of fresh creamy jizz, before 
lifting her greasy fingers and slipping each one in her 
mouth, where she cheerfully sucked them clean.

"Mmmm," Shelly moaned, as she licked the last remnants 
off her fingers. "That was a quite a load," she said, 
with a delighted smile on her face. "Rough day at the 
office?"

"You could say that," Greg answered, with a slight nod. 
"I'm really sorry for breaking the rules."

Shelly waved her hand. "Don't be silly," she said. "If 
I was that concerned about the rules, I wouldn't have 
played along," she said, as she sat up, turned to face 
him, and then slid off her sunglasses. "Honestly, I'm 
just excited to see you home so early. We should go do 
something."

Greg nodded agreeably. "Yeah," he said. "Like a date 
night...we could hit a movie, and then grab a nice 
dinner in town."

Shelly smiled. "Sounds perfect," she said. "It's been a 
while since I got to dress up. Where should we go?"

"Hmm," Greg said, scratching his head. "What about 
Maîson Phillippe?"

Shelly blinked thoughtfully. "God, I haven't thought 
about that place in ages," she said. "Do you think 
they're still there?"

Greg laughed. "It hasn't been that long," he said. "Do 
you remember the red dress you wore the first time we 
ate there?"

Shelly smiled. "You mean the night we almost got kicked 
out," she said, with a giggle, "which I believe also 
happened on the same night as our infamous visit to 
that adult bookstore."

"Exactly," he said, nodding and smiling, as he asked 
hopefully. "Do you still have that dress?"

Shelly thought about it briefly. "I just might," she 
said, "Why?" she asked. "Were you thinking we might go 
for a little stroll down memory lane?" she added, with 
a flirty smile.

"Could be fun," Greg said, "especially seeing how big 
your tits have gotten since then."

Shelly laughed, as she reached up and jiggled her boobs 
with both hands. "You can thank your son for that," she 
said, as she slipped backed into her shoes and hopped 
to her feet. "Guess I'll take a quick shower and then 
we can go."

"No hurry," Greg said. "How was your lunch with Kayla?" 
he asked. "Did you talk to her about your little run-in 
with Peter?"

Shelly sighed. "I did," she said, staring off in the 
distance. "I wasn't going to talk about this now, but I 
guess I should just tell you."

Greg furrowed his brow curiously. "Tell me what?"

Shelly turned back, let out a deep breath, and then 
slowly explained. "When I saw Peter yesterday, he told 
me that the little tramp he's been screwing might be 
pregnant."

"Geeze," Greg answered. "Didn't waste much time, did 
he?" he said, shaking his head. "I assume you told 
Kayla. How did she take it?"

Shelly swallowed. "That's the weird thing about it," 
she said. "She said she didn't believe me. She said 
even if the girl is pregnant there's no way the child 
could be his."

Greg squinted curiously. "How could she know that?"

"Because," Shelly said. "Peter can't have kids. 
According to Kayla, he's sterile."

Greg scratched his head again. "Then how do you explain 
your niece and nephew?"

Shelly sunk her head for a moment, before she calmly 
looked up again. "Kayla told me that Heather and Dylan 
aren't Peter's kids."

"I don't understand," Greg said, tilting his head 
suspiciously. "If Peter isn't the father, then who is?"

"I don't know yet," Shelly said. "But I intend to find 
out…"

To be continued...

Copyright@2009
AZ Legman
wordsinprogress@gmail.com

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This story was written as an adult fantasy. The author
does not condone the described behavior in real life.

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Kristen's collection - Directory 23