Date: Sat, 20 Feb 2021 20:54:42 +0000
From: Michele Nylons <michelenylons@msn.com>
Subject: Bisexual Incest Story - Aunties Stocking Slave - Chapter 1

Chapter 1

It was 1959 and I was eighteen years old. My mother and father had died
over a year ago in a car crash and after spending six months in a foster
home my Aunty Jean took me in as her ward.

Aunty Jean was forty-five and quite an attractive woman for her age. Her
body was a little on the large side but she had large creamy breasts and
stunning legs for a woman her age. She worked in an office in the city
and her work attire usually consisted of skirt, blouse, heels and
hosiery; she dressed sophisticatedly and wore lots of makeup and perfume.

She preferred tight pencil skirts; the hem resting just above her knees,
and tight satin or silk blouses. She always wore hosiery and I was
occasionally rewarded with a glimpse of stocking-top or welt as it is
correctly known. She wore either taupe or grey nylons and, although they
had recently gone out of fashion, she preferred fully-fashioned stockings
with a back-seam. She also favoured high-heels; either strappy sandals or
open-toe pumps.

Aunty Jean's makeup was always perfect: lashings of black eyeliner,
mascara and multi-hued eyeshadow set off her sparkling hazel eyes. Her
cheeks were rouged to enhance her high cheek-bones and she wore ruby-red
lipstick on her full sensuous lips. She painted her fingernails and
toenails with nailpolish to match the colour of her lipstick. Her pretty
face was framed by a jet-black bob, which some of her friends jealously
insisted was dyed. She wore exotic perfume which seemed to envelop her in
a cloud wherever she went.

She stood five-foot six-inches tall in her heels and was voluptuous
rather than fat.

To me she was stunning.

My mother had worn dowdy shapeless house-dresses, flat shoes and only
wore hosiery when going out somewhere special or to church. To my mind,
Aunty Jean was very exotic and sensual and I was fascinated by her. She
seemed a little aloof and I had overheard her say to a friend that she
didn't really want me staying with her but she felt obliged to help me as
I was her sister's son. It was no secret that once I reached the age of
eighteen she expected me to move out.

Aunty preferred it if I kept to myself and not get under her feet. We saw
each other at meals and I was allowed to watch one hour's television with
her on weeknights. On weekends I sometimes accompanied her to church or
to a friend's house for tea. I had a small room upstairs at the back of
the house where I spent most of my time studying or reading books. I
didn't have many friends at my new school but I had always been a loner
anyway.

Being a eighteen-year-old boy going through adolescence my hormones were
seething and my thoughts constantly drifted to sex and I had a
semi-permanent erection. My favourite pastime was masturbation and whilst
exploring my aunt's house I had discovered a cache of fashion magazines.
The lingerie section of the magazines contained glossy pictures of
attractive mature women posing in underwear and they provided me with
visual stimuli during my masturbatory sessions.

I would take a magazine from the stack that my aunt kept in a drawer in
her bedroom, and once I had exhausted my masturbatory fantasies over the
models in that particular edition, I would exchange it for another. It
was during this period that I discovered the delights of the laundry
basket in the bathroom I shared with Aunty Jean.

During what I refer to as my indoctrination period Aunty Jean explained
to me the 'house-rules'; that is, the rules that I would be required to
obey during my stay with her. She explained to me that I was to fold my
clothes at the end of the day and place them in the laundry basket each
evening prior to retiring. Twice-weekly she would wash and iron our
clothes and leave my freshly laundered clothing folded at the foot of my
bed.

One evening, not long after I started borrowing my Aunt's fashion
magazines, I was placing my dirty school uniform in the laundry basket
when an item sitting on the top of the other soiled clothing caught my
attention. It was a pair of black silk panties. I had seen pictures of
ladies modelling panties like these in my aunt's fashion magazines and
found them fascinating. I carefully lifted the garment out of the laundry
basket and was immediately captivated by the sumptuous feel of the flimsy
garment. The delicate material was luxurious; soft and cool to touch, and
so transparent that I could see my fingers through the dark silk.

I held up the panties and scrutinised them. The panties were full-cut,
the back and front panels delicately sewn together at the sides, which
were quite wide, and the gusset was reinforced with a second layer of the
dark silken material. A tiny patch of white crust, which I guessed was my
Auntie's vaginal discharge, clung to the gusset.

I lifted the panties to my face and inhaled; traces of my Aunt's exotic
perfume, combined with the underlying scent of her sex, invaded my
nostrils. I rubbed the garment across my cheek and I felt an erection
begin to grow in my shorts. I freed my turgid member from the confines of
my shorts and draped the garment over my shaft and felt the most wondrous
sensations flow through my body as the cool silk slid along my shaft and
the bulbous glans of my penis. After a few strokes I climaxed, shooting
streams of hot ejaculate over the bathroom floor.

I became light-headed with the intensity of my orgasm and I almost passed
out. When I recovered from my climax I was horrified to discover that a
few tendrils of my semen had soaked into the black silken panties. I did
my best to blot up the incriminating fluid before it could dry and then
carefully returned them back to the laundry basket, trying to position
them just how I had found them. I cleaned up the bathroom floor and vowed
never again to commit such a foolish act.

Of course I was making a promise that I could not keep; my natural
teenage curiosity and constant state of sexual arousal constantly led me
back to the laundry basket to discover what silken delights lay therein.
I was very careful to return the objects of my obsession exactly as I
found them and also tried my hardest to keep my seminal fluids from
staining the delicate garments when I used them to stimulate me during
masturbation.

The next turn of events occurred one evening when I went to take a
shower. As I pulled back the shower-curtain and stepped into the bath one
of Auntie's stockings fluttered down from where it was hanging to dry on
the curtain-rail and alighted on my naked body. I shuddered with delight
as the slinky nylon slid across my sensitive skin. Cautiously I removed
the stocking from my body and examined the delicate piece of hosiery.

The long garment was cut to the shape of the leg it was designed to
encase and sewn together with a back-seam. The toe and heel sections of
the stocking were reinforced with darker nylon. The majority of the
stocking was made of flesh-toned sheer nylon with a darker two-inch band
near the top, which I had leaned from the fashion magazines was called a
'shadow welt' and above that was the larger reinforced stocking-top,
called the welt. This band of reinforced nylon at the top of the stocking
was constructed of doubled over nylon with a 'keyhole' near the base of
the welt. In antique script the word 'Aristoc' was printed on the dark
nylon welt.

The appearance and texture of the garment was fascinating; I rubbed it
against my cheek and, as expected, my member began to thicken. I rubbed
the gossamer hosiery all over my body until ultimately I slid it over my
now fully erect penis. I shuddered with excitement and stroked my
erection, now sheathed in the diaphanous stocking, and with my other hand
I caressed my scrotum which I had encased in the remainder of the
stocking.

Needless to say that in a few seconds a ball of white semen formed in the
material of the stocking as I ejaculated into it. After a few seconds of
absolute terror when I realised that I had just soiled my Aunt's stocking
with my ejaculate and had probably put a ladder in it too, I stopped
panicking and closely inspected the stocking and discovered that other
than slightly distending the nylon where I had stretched it over my penis
it was not damaged. I carefully rinsed the garment and patted it dry with
a towel and hung it up next to its companion.

I scrutinised the stockings hanging on the curtain rail with a critical
eye and could not distinguish any dissimilarity between them. I breathed
a sigh of relief and made a vow then and there that I would never be so
foolish again. I kept the vow for three whole days.

My fascination with my Auntie's lingerie filled most of my waking hours.
At school I daydreamed of mature women dressed in sensuous lingerie and
often made excuses to visit the boys-room so I could relieve myself.

At home I would lie on the carpet pretending to watch television whilst
peeking at Aunt Jean's legs. I particularly liked it when she wore her
open-toe high-heels and I could look at her red-painted toenail encased
in the dark reinforced toe of her stocking or when she kicked off her
heels and the aroma of her feet drifted across to my nostrils. I would
stare at her hosiery clad legs, following the shape of her legs from her
toes up to just above her knees where her magnificent gams disappeared
under the hem of her skirt.

Sometimes she would bend down and run her hands along her legs to remove
the wrinkles from her stockings and straighten the seams, and my cock
would pulse as I pressed it firmly into the carpet.

Once she fell asleep curled up on the lounge and her skirt rode up so
that I could see the welts of her stockings framed by the edge of her
navy-blue skirt. She stirred and a glimpse of her creamy white thighs and
the lacy hem of her satin slip came into view. Unconsciously she reached
down to pull down the hem of her skirt but in doing so I was rewarded
with a peek of nearly transparent white nylon panty crotch; her dark
pubic hair curled against the translucent gusset of her panty.

I raced upstairs and relieved myself while the image was still fresh in
my mind.

It was the weekend and as usual on Sunday morning my Aunt Jean went to
church. She didn't insist that I attend church with her, although she did
invite me to accompany he; more out of courtesy than any particular
desire for my company. I politely declined and retired to my room after
breakfast.

As soon as I heard Aunty Jean leave the house I stripped off my clothes
and lay on my bed; I slipped my hand under the mattress and extracted the
well-thumbed copy of one of my Aunt's fashion mags and opened it to the
lingerie section. I slowly improved my growing erection as I stared with
fascination at the photographs of the mature women modelling the
lingerie.

Images of the heavily made-up and elegantly coiffured women wearing
pointy cupped brassieres, satin basques, bustieres, nylon stockings
clipped to lacy suspender belts, and satin slips, fuelled my masturbatory
fantasies as I whiled away the time. I knew that my Aunt would be gone
for at least two hours and I was in no rush to climax.

After nearly half an hour of desultory stroking I needed to urinate and I
put the magazine aside and walked naked to the bathroom; my slowly
deflating erection leading the way. As I urinated into the toilet bowl my
curiosity was peaked by an item of clothing in the laundry basket. A pair
of nearly transparent panties was hanging over the edge of the basket. I
flicked the last drips of my urine into the bowl and walked over to the
basket.

The flimsy white panties looked exactly like the ones I had seen under my
Aunt's skirt a couple of evenings ago. I did some mental math and figured
out that it was probably the same pair, as she was not due to wash our
laundry until this afternoon; and the last washday had been the day
before I was rewarded with the panty-peek.

With trembling hands I removed the garment from the wash-basket and put
them to my nose. The scent of my Aunt's perfume and vaginal juices
assaulted my nasal passages and my cock sprang to attention. I recalled
my vows to stop playing with my Aunt's intimates but the temptation was
just too much. I looked into the hamper and saw a black satin suspender
belt trimmed with red lace, and I carefully removed it noting its
position in the hamper so that I knew where to put it back from where I
found it.

Sure enough, two pairs of fully-fashioned stockings hung over the
shower-curtain rail to dry. I carefully removed a pair of smoky-grey
stockings and added them to my illicit cache. I padded back to my
bedroom; my heart thundering in my chest.

I opened the magazine to a page which showed a picture of a woman
modelling panties, hose and suspenders and propped it on the pillow. Then
I lay the panties out in the middle of the bed and arranged the
garter-belt above the panties and threaded the garter-straps through the
leg-holes. I carefully clipped the stocking welts to the clips at the
bottom of the garter-straps, straightened out the stockings, and admired
my handiwork. I had arranged the lingerie on the bed exactly as it was
worn by the model in the magazine.

I carefully climbed onto the bed and knelt over the lingerie until my
cock was positioned over the front panel of the panties and I slowly
lowered my body. I sank down until I was lying on the bed with my cock
against the material of the panties and my legs against the material of
the nylons.

It felt magnificent; the translucent nylon panties caressed my cock
whilst the sheer nylons slid against my legs. I slowly humped the bed
whilst alternatively looking at the pictures in the magazine and
conjuring up the image of my Auntie's panty-covered pubis. Whilst this
arrangement was satisfactory, my insistent humping soon moved the panties
and hose away from my body and I was no longer experiencing the desired
effect.

Frustrated with my efforts I decided that the only way I was going to get
satisfaction would be to masturbate directly into the lingerie.

Throwing caution to the wind I lay on my bed with my erection pointing up
at the ceiling. I slid one of Auntie's stockings over my cock and lifted
her panties to my face. I slowly stroked my penis exhilarated by the feel
of the silky nylon against my cock whilst inhaling the scent of perfume
and vaginal juices that clung to the panties.

I tried turning over so that I could look at the pictures in the magazine
while I masturbated put this proved impossible, so I sat on the edge of
the bed with Auntie's stocking wrapped around my cock and her panties
over my head so that I could sniff and lick at the crotch and still look
at the magazine through the leg-holes of the panties.

I was oblivious to the world as my body reacted to the sensual feel of
Auntie's intimates against my cock and face and the taste and smell of
her perfume and her sex. I was slowly stroking my penis, trying to delay
my orgasm, when the door to my bedroom suddenly flew open and Aunty Jean
walked purposely into the room.

I looked up to see her seething with anger; her legs apart and her hands
on her hips; her stance reflected her incensed rage.

"You dirty little boy!!!" she hissed.

I nearly jumped out of my skin and my heart flew into my mouth as I
ripped her panties from my face and flung them on the bed. I sat there
red-faced with embarrassment and shame as my penis slowly deflated inside
her stocking.

"I guessed you were responsible for the disgusting stains that I've been
finding in my underwear; I suppose you are the culprit who's been
stealing my fashion magazines too!" she scalded.

I nodded meekly; my head bowed so that I wouldn't have to look her in the
eye.

"Look at me boy! Answer me!" she demanded.

I looked up and nodded at her submissively. I was acutely aware of my
nakedness and of the items of her intimate apparel scattered on my bed
and I thought I would die with embarrassment.

I stared at my Aunt standing there tapping her foot in fury; and took in
her appearance. She was wearing a navy-blue suit; the hem of her pencil
skirt resting just above her knees and the jacket open to reveal a lilac
satin blouse. Her legs were as far apart as the skirt would allow, and
one foot was placed slightly in front of the other. The hem of her of her
skirt was stretched taut just above her knees as she impatiently tapped
her foot.

Her legs were encased in taupe nylons which glittered in the morning sun
peeking through my bedroom window and her feet were shod in black
high-heeled sandals; her painted toenails just perceptible through the
dark reinforced toes of her stockings.

Because her hands were placed defiantly on her hips; her jacket was
pulled open and the buttons on her satin blouse strained around her heavy
breasts; the red lace of her bra peeked through open buttons of her
blouse. Her long elegant neck was graced by a gold necklace and she wore
gold drop-earrings to match. On her fingers, gold rings set with precious
stones drew attention to her long red fingernails.

Auntie's face was elegantly framed by her black bob. Her eyes glittered
with anger, highlighted by her black eyeliner and mascara, and her pink
and green eyeshadow. Her rouged cheeks were further reddened with
indignation and her ruby-red lipsticked lips were pulled back from her
teeth in a sneer.

Despite the mortification I felt at my current predicament, I thought she
looked sumptuous.

"I should throw you out into the street you little pervert!' she snarled
and strutted purposely into the room, her heels clacking on the wooden
floorboards; a cloud of exotic perfume preceded her.

She stood in front of me seething with rage and then she lashed out and
slapped me across the face; the smack echoed across the room; my face
stung and my ears began to ring.

"Look at this mess; you've ruined a pair of my best sheers and I don't
know if I will ever be able to wear those panties again knowing what
you've been doing with them!"

"You just make me so angry; you ungrateful little wretch!" she said,
stopping to take a breath.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, my head lowered.

"Sorry! Sorry! You little twerp; I'll show you sorry."

With that she took my arm and pulled me up off the bed; the stocking that
had been draped over my now limp penis fluttered down to the floor. Aunty
sat down on the edge of the bed and growled.

"Get yourself over my knees young man!"

"If your behaviour does not warrant a good spanking; then I don't know
what does!" she said.

"Aunty; you can't be serious?" I whined.

"I'm eighteen years old, for God's sake!"

"Don't blaspheme in my house you little bastard! You should be ashamed of
yourself," she snapped.

"I take you in because no one else wants you; and this how you reward me.
You defile my underwear and steal my magazines!"

"Get yourself over my knees and take your punishment, you naughty boy!"

I felt not only humiliated; I also felt dejected. My Aunt had always
inferred that she was doing me a favour by taking me as her ward, but to
say that no one else wanted me made feel rejected and unloved.

I resigned myself to accepting my punishment; what else could I do?

I lay across my Auntie's lap feeling vulnerable and shamed. Aunty Jean
roughly re-positioned me so that my bottom was where she could
effectively spank it; without any hesitation she struck my bare buttocks
with the palm of her hand. The slap echoed through the tiny bedroom and I
cried out in pain.

My buttocks burned and I could feel them redden.

"This is what happens to naughty little boys!" Aunty Jean said and bought
her hand back down on my bare buttocks again.

She began to spank me in earnest and my buttocks began to sting as each
blow intensified the pain. I wriggled in her lap; trying to move my
buttocks away from her hand before she could strike me again.

"Keep still and take your punishment you little bugger!" Aunty Jean said.

She pushed my buttocks back down onto her lap and adjusted her sitting
position on the bed so that she could get a better swing to continue the
spanking. She had opened her legs slightly and my struggles had caused
her skirt to ride up her thighs. Just before her hand came down I
realised that my penis was now resting against her thigh.

I could feel the coarse material of her skirt on the underside of my
penis and it was not unpleasant. Then her hand came down on my buttocks
and the pain returned. As she raised her had to strike me again I felt
the hem of her skirt slide away from underneath my penis and my member
now rested against the cool silky material of her stocking.

To my amazement, despite the burning pain in my rear, my penis began to
stiffen. My Aunt's movements and my own struggles caused my penis to rub
against her sheer nylons. My Aunt became aware of the situation as my
penis became fully erect and she increased the intensity of the spanking.

"Oh you little pervert: I'll teach you how to behave if I have to make
your bottom red for a fortnight!" she said and began to lay into me.

As the ferocity of the spanking increased my Aunt kept trying to hold me
down and I kept struggling. She slammed her legs closed resulting in my
penis being trapped between her thighs. Conflicting sensations surged
through my body. On one hand, my behind was burning with pain; but on the
other my penis was rubbing against my Auntie's nylon-encased thighs, the
gossamer material stimulating my shaft and glans.

Her legs were soft and warm and her perfume assailed my senses. Her satin
blouse hissed and rustled against her jacket as she spanked away adding
to the stimuli as my cock rubbed on her hosiery and my bottom burned.

"You naughty boy! Naughty boy!" she screamed as she flailed away at my
buttocks with her open hand.

The movements of her body as she spanked me only increased the
stimulation as her thighs opened and closed on my engorged member.
Despite the assault on my backside I began to rise and fall in
anticipation of each smack humping my Aunt's legs.

The sensations of her nylons slithering against my cock as she briefly
trapped my turgid member between her thighs each time her hand fell to my
buttocks increasingly stimulated me until I felt my orgasm approaching.
Before my Aunt had returned home unexpectedly I had been masturbating for
over an hour, bringing myself to the edge of climax, but holding back
relief. Now my penis would have none of that; it craved release and I
could feel my scrotum contract in anticipation of my pending ejaculation.

"Please stop Auntie," I begged.

My cock was leaking pre-seminal fluid and I couldn't understand why Aunty
Jean couldn't feel the slippery liquid leaking onto her thighs; surely
she must understand what was happening, but she didn't seem to care. She
was too engrossed in meeting out my punishment.

"I'll stop when you are well and truly punished," she replied; and
continued to flail away at my sore bottom.

I couldn't hold back any longer; despite the searing pain in my buttocks
the friction on my cock against Auntie's stocking-sheathed thighs sent me
over the edge into a paroxysm of orgasmic pleasure. My body quivered as
my scrotum contracted and I ejaculated streams of hot semen; even as my
Aunt spanked my tender backside.

The release was something unimaginable; the most intense orgasm of my
life wracked my body. Streams of ejaculate splashed over my Aunt's thighs
and dribbled down her legs. I bent my head and watched the creamy fluid
run in rivulets down Auntie's sheer stockings; the occasional spurt
landing directly on her foot, the milky juice dribbled into her black
high-heeled sandals.

"Oh you naughty, dirty, little ingrate!" she screamed when she realised
what was happening.

She violently pushed my body off her lap and abruptly stood up. The last
of my spend spurted onto the floor as I lay there panting.

"You filthy little boy!" she hissed, and poked me in the ribs with the
pointy toe of her shoe.

I crawled to my knees and looked up at my Aunty. She was holding her
skirt up and away from her legs so that it would not get stained by my
issue. I could see globules of my semen on the shadow-welt of her
stockings. Even as I watched, one of the globules began to run down her
leg, her taupe stockings turned a darker shade of brown where they
absorbed my sperm.

Little drops of my semen pooled on her leather sandal straps and soaked
into her nylon-sheathed toes. I looked up and caught a glimpse of red
satin panty under her raised skirt and then looked at her face. My Aunty
was livid with rage.

"You can bloody well clean your mess off me!" she hissed and poked me
with her toe again.

I turned to crawl away; my bottom burning and sore. I intended to go to
the bathroom to get a warm damp cloth to clean her legs.

"On no you don't! You made this mess you can clean it up right now!" she
demanded.

"I'm not going to stand here holding up my skirt all day just to keep it
from getting stained by your disgusting mess!"

"I'll get a towel," I cringed.

"Bugger the towel you dirty little pervert; use your tongue!" she
replied.

I was incredulous! Did she really mean for me to lick my own semen from
her legs and feet. The look on her face confirmed my fears.

"Get on with it!" she demanded.

I tentatively bowed my head and looked at the creamy gelatinous mess on
her feet. I stuck out my tongue and hesitantly licked at my cooling
semen. Being a teenage boy, I had of course tasted my own semen before;
but this was different. Besides the fusty taste of my semen I also tasted
my Aunt's perfume, the odour of her feet and traces of the fabric
softener that she used on her delicates.

The taste was not unpleasant, and after cleaning her feet I used my
tongue to trace the rivulets of semen that had run down her legs; working
my way up slowly until I got to the shadow-welts of her stockings. The
further I moved my tongue up her legs, the stronger the scent of her
perfume. By the time I had cleaned my sperm off both of her legs I had
become sexually aroused again.

Aunty Jean sniggered and dropped the hem of her skirt; she pushed me away
with her foot. Still kneeling I looked up at her.

"I don't know if I can let you live here any longer after this deplorable
incident," she said.

"But I tell you one thing; while I consider your future there are going
to be some new rules in this house young man."

"To begin with, you can clean the floor in here and then wash the sheets
and then my panties and stockings. There is no way I'm going to touch
them after the disgusting things you've been doing with them," she
sneered, pointing accusingly at her stockings and panties lying on my bed
and floor.

"You can start cleaning the floor right now," she commanded.

"Crawl out of here and go and get some cleaning gear; then you can strip
the bed and wash the sheets."

"After that I will oversee you as you wash my underwear and nylons; I
don't want you ruining them!" she said.

I crawled toward the bedroom door and just before I left the room I
glanced back at my Aunty Jean. Incredulously she had a wry smile on her
face.

To be continued


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Michele Nylons

michelenylons@msn.com