Monday, February 26, 2007

Pantyhose passions part 2.

Well well, the pantypost still goes on. After my little piece about having my gusset gobbled by pretty Polly one January afternoon, so many 15 denier devotees have been in touch. By the way the pic sadly isn't me but I like to dream that it is the view Polly had of me.

Several writers suggested getting into deep discussions on the subject in Brighton hotel rooms – naughty boys! But a couple actually wrote interesting emails about their love of lycra and where it had taken them – kinky!

That time with Polly was a bit of a surprise for me I must confess. Like just about every woman I’ve always had a bit of a thing about knickers and their sexual effect. I think it started when I showed my Ladybird briefs to Martin Parsons. I was six then but I’ve been flashing them, one way or another, ever since.

I’ve always loved sexy lingerie and have recently added latex to my repertoire. But, tights?

Like most women, I sniff for freshness than put on and eventually take off my tights daily without thinking about their sexual possibilities. It's a bit like men suddenly finding out that women are madly turned on by grey M&S socks.

But now I completely understand their attraction and so, I find, does most of the world, just put the word ‘pantyhose’ into Google and see how many sites there are.

But don’t do it yet because I want you to read my two correspondents.

One is a 23-year old woman who was as surprised as I was and another is from a man who’s been into tights (literally) for many years and now combines them with World War 2 gasmasks for total sexual pleasure – imagine it, Mum’s Aristocs meets Dad’s Army?

But, ladies first…

Dear Sadie,

I love reading your blog and your stories because you’re so sexy and so brilliantly funny at the same time (I left that bit in because I’m a sad praise addict but now for the serious bit)

Like you I never associated tights with sex, in my sexual relations with either men or women. I suppose I’m rather conservative in these matters but that’s the way I am.

So when I had a drink with X after we’d been working in the same office for nine months I thought it was just a normal start to a relationship. She made it very clear to me that she found me attractive and she complimented me on my office clothes. I found this odd because they were nothing special. The office dress code is fairly formal so I was wearing a black suit and white blouse, as was she.

She then suggested a club nearby, now I knew this was gay, and that it had lesbian nights but I welcomed the freedom to explore our affair. The only thing was I didn’t feel that my boring office clothes were right for this but X was insistent.

Later, at the club, we sat in the dark amongst women who were getting very friendly, we kissed but I was surprised when without warning X put her hand up my skirt. Now men have tried this and I normally feel rather insulted but it was such a surprise that I did nothing. X’s hand started feeling around my thighs and then between my legs. She then whispered about her love of tights and how sexy I was in my black tights and that was the beginning.

I’m now a dedicated tight fanatic thanks to X. It started with just the two of us at X’s flat. Like you, we were both topless but our lower halves were covered by our sexy tights. It’s a wonderful sensation isn’t it Sadie. I just adore my bum being stroked and X licking me through my tights.

Later, I sucked and licked X. We both had amazing orgasms.

We did this for weeks and then X tore up a pair of tights and put one piece over my head. Initially I panicked but then when I realised I could breathe I found the restriction very sexy.

Then X suggested tying me up. I trusted her so she tied me and covered my face with tights. Then she made me suck her off through the material.

X would push her finger wrapped in the tights into my vagina and it felt really good. Then she pushed her tight wrapped finger up my bum and I was amazed how great it felt.

I now felt I couldn’t enjoy sex if tights weren’t involved. I even feel sexy at the office wearing my tights without knickers. Do you think this is strange Sadie?

X belongs to a Yahoo ‘pantyhose’ group and regularly contributes to the forum. She read of a ‘meet’ in a motel sort of place near Birmingham and suggested we go. It would have normally been the last thing I’d have even considered – but I said yes.

We all gathered in this large bedroom and there were about 4 couples, 6 women and 2 men. We each disappeared into the bathroom and came back naked but for tights. We were all shapes and sizes but some of the women were quite attractive.

One couple, a man and a woman, put some music on and then they lay on the bed and started to fondle each other. Maybe it’s because X and I had enjoyed several drinks in the hotel bar but I found it very arousing. The man was rubbing the woman between her legs and she was sucking on his cock that was prominent under his tights.

X started kissing me and feeling my bum and I kissed her nipples. Then I felt another hand on me and looked round. It was the other couple, and the man was stroking my thigh but his partner, a woman was looking on approvingly. I guessed that this was meant to be a group event. X manoeuvred me around so the man could get more intimate with me and X could get more intimate with the woman. In seconds, the man had his hand between my legs, X had one hand on my bum and the other between the woman’s legs and the woman was stroking my breasts.

As you might imagine Sadie this was very exciting and my crotch was soon very damp but I didn’t care because so was everyone elses. We swapped partners and stimulated each other for hours. At one point I had a woman sucking my nipples, another woman sucking my vagina and another woman tickling my bum with her tongue. We all got very stimulated but our tights stayed on because that was the sexy part really.

Eventually the two men and woman couples had sex through torn tights on the bed and in front of us. X then tore my tights at the crotch and brought me to orgasm with her finger and tongue. And, you know Sadie, I just
loved doing it with other people watching. A couple of months ago I would have been horrified at the thought. But now I can’t wait to go to another group meet.

Then, we got dressed, had a chat and left.

She then wrote some stuff about my blog but it was so flattering that I’m too modest to share it with you. I love the last bit however, I wonder after getting dressed what the group talked about? Being Brits it might have been about the weather or considering the afternoon whether Wolford tights rip better than Aristocs.

Now it’s the turn of a very nice guy with some interesting interests:

Dear Sadie

I’m very happy to tell you more about my ventures into BDSM. I’m a closet fetishist and know that my deep, furtive desires would horrify my long-term partner. Our relationship is great in all but the erotic realm, and I agonized for ages before taking the plunge to act out my urges. And now, telling you, it’s also quite cathartic to be able to spill the beans.

Who knows where such yearnings come from, but ever since I became aware of my sexuality, I was fascinated by dominant women. Generally, I’m a strong and assertive person, but wanted to be overwhelmed sexually. While I was a student, I found a couple of sympathetic girlfriends who came to share my bondage and domination kinks. These involved the liberal use of tights, worn conventionally (by both of us), as restraints and gags, and (this took a little persuasion at first) as masks.

The mask thing really caught my imagination, and stayed with me. One day, I saw a gas mask for sale in an Army Surplus shop and realized with a jolt of lust that it could be used as a prop in my preferred bedroom games. I especially liked the thought of my female partners concealing their faces behind a grotesque respirator before doing what they wanted with me. I tiptoed round the topic with a succession of girlfriends (even one of the stocking-mask wearers), but only met with disgusted rejection.

Now, to move on a few years and cut to the chase…I wanted to realize my erotic dream of being dommed by a gasmasked mistress. The first couple or so I tried reacted in a similar way, though not quite as shocked, as my former girlfriends when I mentioned my special needs. Then I rang X. She was a part-time lifestyle mistress who did sessions for pleasure and (as she put it) ‘pocket money’ and was totally unfazed by my unusual request.

Come the day, I found myself tapping timidly at the door of a purpose-built BDSM studio at the bottom of an extensive wooded suburban garden. Mistress X opened up and asked me in; she was a self-confident woman in her early thirties with an easy manner and a nice line in self-deprecating humour, and I took to her instantly. She had below-shoulder-length brown hair and her wide-hipped, hourglass figure was encased in a skintight mini dress in black latex. The front of the dress was open to show some cleavage, but I noticed that it could zip right up to a high neck. Her legs – o joy! – were encased in sheer tan tights. We chatted for a bit, and then I showed her the mask from my collection that I had brought along. It was a World War 2 ‘elephant trunk’ gas mask.

She loved the look of it, turned it over in her hands, and made appreciative noises. We agreed to play out a scenario where I was a burglar and she had caught me trying on her hosiery.

I was told to go into the main room of the studio, strip, and pull on a pair of her tights that she had laid out for me. After a couple of minutes of waiting, the door slowly opened and X. made her entrance. Or rather, it was a new version of the pretty, long-haired woman I had been speaking to earlier. She had done her hair up in a topknot before pulling a sheer stocking, tan to match her tights, over her head. Her dress was now zipped right up to the neck and she’d tucked the stocking under the collar. Across her chest, she’d strapped the canvas army bag containing my mask.

Head to toe, she was covered in nylon and rubber. Clutching a riding crop in a gloved hand, she advanced on me and brought her stockinged face close to mine. Her delicate features were now blurred and distorted by the tight nylon skin, which pulled the end of her nose and eyebrows up and flattened her lips. This sinister figure ordered me to kneel. Circling round me, V whacked me across the buttocks with the riding crop before turning her attention to my cock. “How pathetic” she hissed in my ear, “let’s see if we can make it bigger before the end of the session.” “But first,” she went on “if you like women’s tights so much, let’s see how you fancy being strangled and suffocated with them. Lie down!” I did as she commanded, and X straddled my chest, her rubber dress stretching taut across her thighs as she rested her weight on me. The bank-robber face leered down at me as she picked up a spare pair of hose, dragged them roughly over my head, and slowly tightened the legs around my neck. She knew what she was doing and released them in just enough time for the strangulation to be exciting but not downright scary. She repeated the game several times, all the while insulting me and yelling at me how she could easily kill me. Next came the suffocation; she kept the tights on my head but dragged a stretched surgical rubber glove over them. From inside my rubber prison, I watched the glove inflate as I gasped for air.

“I don’t think I look frightening enough” V suddenly announced as she released me from the glove. Opening the poppers of the army bag, she out eased the black, corrugated rubber hose and the face piece of the vintage gas mask. “This’ll scare the shit out of you if I put it on, won’t it? Or maybe you’ll just be turned on by it, you perv.” With this, she stretched the straps of the mask and, smiling wickedly at me, pulled it over her stockinged head. The effect was electric; this attractive young woman had instantly transformed herself into a nightmarish, insect-like apparition. Her voice was muffled and deep as she bent down to speak to me. “I wish I had some poison gas here. I’d asphyxiate you, you worm.”

We played a few more games, with V striding around still wearing the respirator, tying me up to a hanging beam, clamping my nipples, and whipping me. Eventually, I was made to kneel at her feet as she sat in a chair, massage her tights-clad legs up to just above the knee and stimulate myself to orgasm while looking at her gas masked face.

Well! All this makes me feel like the Country Mouse – very innocent. As I mentioned to my male correspondent I’ve had several lovers during my life for whom tights over the face would have been an improvement but I’ve never thought about it as a turn-on during fucking – just where have I been???

Are there any more lycropaths out there who would like to introduce my readers to new 15 denier delights? Well, get in touch.

Love & kisses (through tights) Sadie xxxxx

Saturday, February 17, 2007

Pantyhose passions

I get loads of emails (and to answer most of them ‘No I couldn’t possibly do that without pulling a muscle in my back’). However, I often get them from people I’ve mentioned in my blog and that’s ok. But I recently got one from Polly with whom I enjoyed a little January jiggling.

She was very upset about the tone of my piece ‘What to do in a tight situation’ . I was about to write ‘she’s got her knickers in a twist’ but I better not now, as it’s a very serious subject.

So here’s her email. Please read it then think: Is snogging a snatch through lycra weird or not? The decision is yours.

Dear Sadie,

Hello, how are you? Thank you for the saucy note you sent after you got back to your flat. I am ok and now XXXXX and the kids are back life is normal and pleasant, if rather unexciting.

You did mention that you might put our afternoon together on your blog. But, well I didn’t expect you to write it in such detail.

You asked me to tell you what I thought about your ‘reportage’. Well, in general, it was very accurate and I actually found myself quite turned on by it, is that strange? But I have two criticisms.

First, how dare you say I have a big bum. It’s no bigger than yours which I see in your past writings you’ve described as ‘sexy’ and ‘curvy’. I certainly thought it was, especially when it was encased in your black ‘Close Encounter’ tights with your white knickers underneath. I can still imagine you bent over the sofa offering your bum to me and allowing me to do anything I wanted to. You say in your story that you quite liked it but I remember you being very enthusiastic.

But, more seriously, although you say you’re not surprised by anything anymore I note a hint of criticism in the words you use. I quote:

‘She was almost ignoring me as a person by now’

‘How she met up in a hotel outside Birmingham with fellow tight-sniffers’

‘No what amazed me was that this respectable, pillar of the community, on the school board, happily married mother of two, harboured such extraordinary sexual longings. It was sheer madness.’

I’m afraid I detect that very conservative English emotion that is summed up as: “I have exciting sexual desires but you are a pervert”. I believe I have a normal sexual life that includes a desire to occasionally share it with women and also to use items of clothing to increase the sensations. What do you find weird about that?

All the women I know ‘in the community’ and even on ‘the school board’ have a healthy interest in their underwear as an item of fashion. And surveys in magazines suggest that women all over the United Kingdom share this interest.

We all know that wearing sexy underwear in the bedroom is a remarkably common prelude to sexual activity and is practiced by many ‘ happily married mothers of two’.

So why did you think it was ‘extraordinary’ that I was turned on by you wearing tights and knickers and that I wanted to express those feelings by kissing your sexual parts and exploring them with my tongue. The feel of lycra encasing legs, thighs, bums and stomachs is extremely sensual and I really don’t think this is some perversion carried out by ‘tight-sniffers’. It is just a case of underwear creating a great atmosphere that leads to sexual intercourse – and that is a very ordinary happening.

But the bit that hurt me most was ‘She was almost ignoring me as a person by now’ How could you write this Sadie? I think that over our few hours together I never forgot that you were a person and I demonstrated this by my constant and active efforts to give you sexual pleasure. I talked to you all the time and asked you whether you liked what I was doing and did you want me to do anything else? I remember you being very vocal and crude about your desires but that’s one of the things I loved about you Sadie.

I’m sorry to go on but I resent the impression you left in your blog that I was some kind of ‘in-human pervert’. I expected you to be worldlier about sexual matters, just because internet sites feature a sexual activity doesn’t automatically make it weird – there’s a lot of heterosexual sex on there isn’t there?

However on a happier note it would be great if we could meet up again to chat, discuss my criticisms or do anything you like – just wear tights :)


Well, I did reply and apologise, I try to write amusing stuff in my blog and sometimes the jokes set a tone I didn’t really intend. I’d hate her to think I thought she was pants!

However, I might just take up her tempting offer. But, at the moment my lovely Ms Hastings is back in my life and we’re hot when we’re together. Last night, she kept her tights on…just a little longer why we played.

They were black Wolford Velvet De Luxe 50, for your information Polly, and they made her bum feel like a big luscious peach. Mmmmmmmmmm!

Love & kisses Sadie

Saturday, February 03, 2007

What to do in a tight situation

When you dive into deviancy and leave the safe shores of married heterosexual shagging I suppose you should expect to wash up in some weird places (and run out of watery metaphors).

I mean the sexy dark places I like to write about. Over the past couple of years various women have offered to wrestle me, go naked hiking with me, brand me with hot irons, shave me, and cover me in chocolate, But although I was very curious and not a little titillated by some of these suggestions I only agreed to one. Guess which? Here’s a clue: yum, yum!

So I suppose I shouldn’t have been shocked by what happened the week after New Year’s Day. My occasional girl friend Ms Hastings was off skiing with her husband and I was moping around at various parties on my own. Ms Hastings is very relaxed about this, when she’s with hubbie I’m allowed to pursue temporary liaisons (nice word) if they are offered.

That’s the fascinating thing about gays. Unlike straight couples who mostly need to lap up a couple of dinners and a bit of culture before they lap up each other, we often find ourselves in each other’s pants just hours after we’ve first met.

Especially women as, I suppose, we sort of trust each other, the sex doesn’t have to be one-sided and penetrative and you won’t get pregnant.

So, to get to my shocking tale, I started talking to this woman at a lunch party. I’ve promised to keep her totally anonymous so no details of where or when. However I’ll call her Polly, after Pretty Polly (you see why soon). It was pretty dressy so I was in a skirt and fuck-me heels and so was she.

I’d met Polly a couple of times before at similar do’s, she wasn’t part of the Brighton muffia but she seemed to like to hang out with us and she was apparently very happily married with kids. Ah ha, you think the plot deepens!

Well, at least, our conversation did, we started by discussing Little Miss Sunshine, found we both liked Amy Winehouse a lot and so on and so forth. Then, after several glasses of cold white wine we got on to hotter personal matters, I talked about Ms Hastings and her frequent absences from my bed and she confessed that, nice as hubbie and kids were, there was a bit of excitement missing.

Ah, the signals – I’ve learnt them pretty fast and they definitely suggested that Sadie might be in for a little New Year nookie that afternoon.

Then it was time to go and she offered me a lift. We chatted aimlessly while I checked her body out as she drove, nice legs, full but sexy thighs, big bum, big tits and an attractive face with a rather dirty looking mouth. She turned to say something and caught me looking at her. We grinned at each other.

Then, just before we hit Brighton Polly hit on me. She pulled into a lay by and stopped the car.

“Look Sadie, you know I find you very sexy” she said nervously. Then she placed her hand on my knee and gently stroked it.

“My house is just over there…would you like to come back with me?”

Well that was direct. No excuse of a cup of tea or to see the new kitchen. Just, why not pop over for a fuck, I liked that.

And so then we were on the sofa in her smart living room kissing each other in the French manner. Mr Polly and the little ones were walking in the Lake District for a couple of days so the house was ours. She’d said she didn’t want to go into the bedroom because it would seem unfair to her husband and I understood that.

However, I wanted to move things along a bit so I stood up and looked down at her.

“Well” I said.

At this, she placed her hands on the back of my legs and then slowly moved them upwards. She pushed my skirt up and squeezed my thighs and then her fingers were massaging my bum.

This was nice but I was a bit puzzled by her next comment.

“Sadie, I find you so sexy like this, but, look I don’t want to put you off, but there’s something, I errrrr, there’s something I like doing”

Oh oh I thought, flagellation, fisting, dressing up as Cheri Blair – you just don’t know these days.

“Look, Polly, anything goes babe” I said in a hopefully cool way.

Her hands gripped my thighs and pulled me towards her. She rested her face against my disarranged skirt and looked up at me.

“It’s just that I’m really turned on by you in…these tights”

Ahh, I hadn’t met one of these before but I’d read about them on the mucky sites I watch at 3am in the morning. She was into my tights. They were nothing special - ‘Close Encounters’ from M&S, but actually the name was rather appropriate. She was a pantyhose fan, yea, this rather twee American word for tights was all over the internet. Pantyhose Fun, Lesbians in Pantyhose, Men in Pantyhose, Pets in pantyhose (fuck, saying it four times means I’m going to get so many mentions on Google now)

I said nothing but just stroked her hair so she took this as a ‘go ahead’. She unzipped my skirt and slipped it down. I was now just in my blouse, tights with a white thong underneath and my fuck-me’s.

She buried her face into my belly and then, after a moment, looked appealingly up at me.

“Oh Sadie” she said. “Can I do…anything”

I nodded and her face was now in my crotch. Not just resting on it but actively burrowing into my mound. Her hands were on my arse pulling me even tighter against her exploring nose. I imagined she was getting a subtle whiff of sexy sadieness.

Then she stood up, I stood watching her wondering what was going to happen next. She slipped her skirt down and I saw she was not wearing knickers under her tights. Polly’s trimmed pubes faced me defiantly.

She took my arm and led my around the sofa. Then, by pressing her hand on her back she indicated that I was to bend over the back. Once in position with my arse in the air, I suddenly felt her hands all over my cheeks, patting, smoothing and squeezing the thin shiny material that covered them. Wow, she loved lycra!

Then her face was in my crack. She was actually rubbing her cheek against mine and even kissing it.

For minutes, she brushed my bum with her face. I could hear her breathing growing more intense and then she was up my arse in the nicest possible way.

If someone had come in they would probably have assumed from my position and her attention that we were just two members of the Advertising profession but it felt strange to me.

It was an odd sensation owing to the material tights are made of. There is some feeling of covering but otherwise you seem naked. But then I felt her tongue pushing against the springy fabric and a slight damp feeling. As I said, weird.

Equally odd was me, later, with my legs in the air while she grazed on my gusset. She was almost ignoring me as a person by now. She was manoeuvring me into position and then tasting my tights. It felt that her tongue was trying to force its way through to my cunt. Then she was biting me gently, her teeth nibbling away and pulling on my thong. And then she was pressing her mouth and nose into me and I suddenly began to like it. My tights and thong were damp – and so was I.

She sat up on her knees panting gently. I decided it was time I got involved so I sat up, opened her shirt and slipped it off. She was wearing a classy looking bra which she opened at the front and her big tits fell out.

“Now you’ she said and in seconds my nipples were perking up in the cool air. But she hadn’t finished down below and she lifted my legs and pushed me back so she could have unrestricted access.

For minutes she tantalised me thought the thin material. I was getting those feelings and so was she. With my head on the carpet I could see her gusset and her hand was in there and her fingers were working hard.

Finally she must have cum or something because she stopped and sat back looking at me blissfully. I let my legs fall back and we both relaxed.

“Fancy a snack darling before we…carry on?” she said. Well, I thought, you’ve already had yours.

We both got up. My tights were soaked through but I left them on. They obviously excited Polly and I wanted her totally turned on.

Polly came back, set a small table, lit a candle then, put two interesting looking salads out with a bottle of wine. We ate, an odd sight I expect, two 30 year olds topless in tights. Now that would make a great website name!

After we’d finished the meal Polly started on me again. This time I knew what to expect and I allowed myself to be used like a lycra covered sexual organ. She sucked me, stretched me, and tried to split me open.

Then, being a Brit she practiced fair play and I found my face in her silky snatch. Later I tried her arse for size but I found the whole experience a bit frustrating. The material was a barrier to my pleasure not a boost.

But she was so excited. So I took her in my arms, our tights finally came off and we finished ourselves off with a good old - fashioned fuck.

Later, as I got dressed she told me about her fetish. How she chatted to groups across the world, how she’s met up in a hotel outside Birmingham with fellow tight-sniffers. Pantyhose Orgy, I said, (wow, google will now go mad!)

We kissed, said we must do this again, and I went outside to the comparatively sane world of a cab driver’s banter all the way to Brighton.

At the beginning of this I said I was shocked but it wasn’t the gusset snuffling. I’ve seen and expect I’ll experience even odder things than that. No what amazed me was that this respectable, pillar of the community, on the school board, happily married mother of two, harboured such extraordinary sexual longings.

It was sheer madness.

Love & kisses Sadie xxxx