Mickey and the Stockings

"Oh no," Mickey said, lightly, "I wouldn't dream of doing that." I'm going to wait until tomorrow."

POSTSCRIPT:

Linda and I got divorced within six months. It had nothing to do with sex—she never found out that I was fucking her mother though she did remark several times that I was a lot more tired than I had been. I blamed it on work. No, we just drifted apart, even though the sex was great. She got an offer form a radio station in a bigger city and felt she had to take it. I had just been accepted to a master's program at the university and I felt I had to accept that, so without rancor, though with good deal of regret, we went our separate ways.

I continued to live with Mickey as a "boarder", which Linda found strange and she became suspicious of us but was never able to prove anything. Mickey, without Linda around became insatiable, making up for those 9 years she lost, fucking me almost everyday, sometimes twice.

I don't know if such things can be inherited or whether Mickey had passed it on to her daughter or not, but she loved to wear stockings and pantyhose too and we soon built up a collection for her of every conceivable kind—thigh highs in a variety of colors, fishnets in several different sizes of mesh and colors, pantyhose in all shades of the rainbow—purple, olive green, even orange. At a yard sale given by an old lady I found a dozen pairs of the old-fashioned silk stockings with seams up the back and I had to go and buy some garter belts so Mickey could wear them for me. It was a great time, coming home everyday from the campus or from work and being surprised by a woman with an open pussy and silky legs ready to make me cum and to cum for me. They were the best days of my life.