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"My best orgasms happen when I'm wearing—" There was probably more that last time, but it was less coherent through the lip-biting moans Paula emitted for a moment. Embarrassingly, Irina felt her nipples stiffen as she watched and comprehended what was going on. It's like she's being... what's the word? Conditioned?... to associate wearing white stockings with sexual pleasure. Which made sense, given the goal, she supposed, but for some reason she hadn't expected it to be so... blatant. Or arousing to observe. After a moment's quiet, Paula responded to her unseen questioner again. "Yes. I did. Really hard. Yes. I will." Paula's hands returned to view again, but instead of going to the mouse they went to her mouth as she began to slowly and sensuously lick each finger clean. That is so not right, Irina thought, flushed. Maybe I should stop this... but the situation already seemed to be headed to conclusion anyway (or, post-conclusion, really, if you were dirty-minded, as Irina couldn't help but be right now). Paula had completed her... preening... and was already counting back to one now, licking her lips. When she hit the final number her eyes seemed to clear as she became aware of what was going on around her once more. Paula sat, quietly contemplative, for a moment, then sighed and looked to her friend. "Well, I feel fantastic." "I'll bet." She was about to say more, but Paula interrupted her. "It's like... there's a tickle in the back of my head. Not annoying, but persistent... but it's keeping me aware, every second, of what I'm wearing on my legs, of how they feel..." "Isn't that distracting hot lingerie stockings?" "Only in a delightful way. I can't wait for Karl to get home." Ahem. Okay, then. She was inclined to tell Paula then about what she'd done, but for some reason she held back. Getting crazy-turned on by her hose was entirely the point, wasn't it? Perhaps saving her friend the embarrassment of details would be best. She could see that Paula was still turning the future evening's events over in her mind and decided to take that as a sign. "Well, I guess that's my cue." She gathered her phone and purse and stood up. "Have fun with the hubby, P." Realizing her distraction and its probable rudeness, Paula stood and crossed to give her friend a hug. "Sorry, Rina. I didn't mean to get all hot-and-bothered with you here." You don't know the half of it. "We can go watch a movie or something... Karl won't be home for hours sexy silk lingerie." "Nah, I think I'll catch up on binge-watching some Netflix. And I know we don't agree on that stuff." "Ugh... historical soap operas sexy lingerie ladies!" "They're 'historical dramas', you fucking Philistine. And they're very good." "Whatever. I'll take vampire and werewolf shows over that." "I know, but no one ever accused you of having good taste." "Karl has," she smirked lingerie stockings. Well, you should know the truth of that for yourself, now. If only you'd been awake for it. Irina laughed much louder than the dirty joke warranted because she had context that made it way funnier. "Okay. Too much information. I'm going." "Prude." "Riiiiiight." The dampness between her own thighs at witnessing what had happened today was proof Irina was no such thing. But that was not white lingerie stockings something to share. * * * The friends typically saw each other once or twice a week, as work and other matters conspired to interfere, but on each such happy occasion over the next month and a half, Irina couldn't help noting that Paula was wearing nylons. And the type of hose was not in any way mysterious, as errant blasts of wind, shorter skirts, and even casual crossing of the legs were prone to reveal the lines of demarcation between the delicate fabric and the upper thighs, along with suspender straps of various sorts and sizes. At times it seemed to Irina that her friend was going out of her way to flaunt her matures stocking pics new wardrobe choice — it was suspiciously common for Paula to smooth out a wrinkle above her hemline just as someone was approaching. Once while they were getting into Paula's car on the way back to work from lunch, Paula seemed to take an extra-long time easing her legs back into the driver's seat before closing the door. "You're gonna cause a car accident, you know black lingerie stockings." "Huh?" "Come on, Paula. Don't kid a kidder. I saw you teasing that driver lurking after our parking space." "What? I wasn't—" "Ha. You're just lucky he had his brakes on. Otherwise that old lady with the walker would be dead right now." Paula frowned. "Really?" "Possibly not. But he probably would have scraped up that BMW somehow." Her friend looked uncomfortable. "I didn't know." A pause. "I guess I did, a little, but I wasn't thinking about it. It just... happened." "It's been 'just happening' for weeks now, nylon stockings mature" She looked at the other woman, starting to let incredulity creep into her voice. "You really hadn't noticed." "No. Possibly. I mean, I feel sexier, and I'm... I guess... moving my body to enhance that— " I will always move my legs in ways designed to entice... "—but I didn't think it was anything anyone else would see." "Seriously?" "I... No. I was getting a charge out of it, but I thought I was the only one." "Um... you know, Paula, if this hypno-stuff is making you do things that're freaking you out, maybe it's time to stop." "It's not freaking me out. It's really..." she exhaled. "It's actually a little bit hot, if I'm honest about it. I just don't want to come across as a slut or something." Too late. "Well, no more than usual." "Thanks a lot. I'm serious hot girls in lingerie." "So am I. Not about the slut thing. You're just extra flirty. But I worry about you doing stuff that makes you feel uncomfortable. Is it really worth it?" "Yes!" She looked a little surprised at her own vehemence and tamped it down a little, still smiling. "It's been... fun, Rina. Sort of perfect girl in stockings like playing with a new toy." "The vibrate-y kind or just the ones that look like big cocks?" "Stop!" she laughed. "I meant like a kid— oh, never mind. Whatever I say sexy girls in stockings you're gonna make it pervy." "Um... you realize the subject matter is already pervy?" "Shit. Yeah. Okay. Maybe you're right. Your sexy garter awesome" "Say that again. I didn't quite hear." "Maybe you're right." "That's better. Again milf in lingerie" "Shut up! I'm not... too bad, am I?" "I've seen you worse at frat parties in college." "That's damning with faint praise." "Call 'em as I see erotic stockings pictures 'em." "Humpf. Well, I've got another session scheduled on Wednesday while Karl is out drinking beer with his work buddies." "Is that a good idea, given what we've been talking about this whole time?" "I dunno. Maybe. Are you free sexy girls in lingerie?" Again? "Why don't you have Karl look after you while you're doing this crap?" "I don't want him to know. He's reaping the benefits. Does he have to know it's not entirely... natural ladies lingerie tumblr?" "That sounds like a healthy relationship." "It is! But he's got this weird kink about things being genuine, and if he thought I was faking this in some way..." "Which you are hot white lingerie." "That's where you're wrong, Rina. Oh, so wrong." She licked her lips. "It feels very, very real." Irina unwillingly recalled the last time she'd seen her friend do that with her lips. "If you say so." "Please... could you... um... stay with me again while I...?" Lick your own come off your hands? "Sure, honey. As long as you realize I think you're nuts." "I do, and it's why I trust you to be there. In case anything goes weird." "Weirder." She ignored that. "I really appreciate it, Rina. I'm... a little messed up now, and feel a lot more comfortable with you here." "Hey, I get it. No sweat black stockings." Irina was truly conflicted about this situation, though. How much was she providing security and reassurance about her friend's decisions...and at what point did it cross over into enabling her crazy behavior? If she backed out, wouldn't Paula continue anyway, just without a safety pretty teen lingerie net? Ultimately, for her decision, it did come down to: where's the harm? Notwithstanding the potential automotive incidents, there didn't seem to be any actual problematic consequences with the path Paula was following. So far. * * * Karl was out on a business trip to the Bay Area the next time. They went into Paula's office Sunday afternoon. This time there was very little foreplay prelude. Irina sat in her customary lounge chair and her hostess slid behind the desk rapidly and eagerly. A handful of keystrokes and a click of the mouse and Irina saw the light reflected in her friend's eyes go emerald once more busty lingerie teen. Paula's descent was getting more rapid as time went on. The first time it had been nearly half an hour before her lids had collapsed shut; last week it had taken minutes. Whatever suggestions this website was making had clearly accelerated matters—by Irina's watch, the process had been active for barely over two minutes before she heard the mesmerized "I am entranced and open to suggestion" chant coming from those lacquered burgundy lips. With a mechanical point and click, the words started again and soon enough it was sexuality, sensuality, hosiery... the French Revolutionary motto of hot teen stockings hypnosluts, it seemed. It began with phrases that were self-affirming and near-innocent: "My garter-belts make me feel elegant and beautiful perfect girls in lingerie." "I need to examine and touch my legs frequently to make sure my seams are straight in the back." "Fine black stockings are a gift. And I want to thank the person who gives them to me in the sexiest possible way." "When I get stockings, when I hold them in my hands, I need to feel them on my legs." "Long, sexy nylon gloves are like stockings for my arms." "I want to dress my body in corsets and girdles and waist cinchers and waspies... anything which is tight and holds my stockings up." ...and what the fuck even was a "waspie", anyway sexy black girl lingerie? Soon enough, however, the banter had devolved into straight-up perversion and lust... "The sensation of nylon coating my skin makes me wet and ready and want to come." "I will always wear my panties over the top of my garters for easier access to my pussy." "The sound of my hosiery as my legs slide across each other makes my nipples hard with excitement." "It's so easy for me to orgasm whenever I feel teens in stockings." "Even the smell and taste of nylon stockings gets me hot." When Paula put her legs on the desk and started stroking herself from ankle to knee Irina started to feel uncomfortable. It was perhaps a bit over the top when she hiked up her skirt and started rubbing her panties while reiterating the details of her arousal to no one in particular. And all the time her eyes, staring at the screen, glazed but aware... Irina very much wanted to take a short video of this with her phone—to show Paula what she was doing under the influence of this software—but she got the idea that making her friend watch this could be even more humiliating to her than the act itself. Paula responded with "I will" to some new instruction, and Irina saw her open one of the drawers of the desk and pull something filmy forth. It wasn't until she started stretching them past her elbow that Irina could tell they were some kind of transparent nylon opera-length gloves. Stockings for my arms. "I get excited whenever I pull nylons up my calves, knees, thighs. I breathe heavier with each garter strap I fasten." And Paula was breathing heavy now, responsive to whatever she was being told. Irina shuddered as she saw her friend's now-gloved hands slip inside her panties once more. "Just thinking of feeling my legs in stockings... adjusting my seams... sliding my hose-covered foot into a high-heeled shoe... gets me arou—sed." Her breath hitched in the midst of the last word, as if thinking it made it come deliciously true before she even got to say it. It might not have been entirely the words, however; from the not-exactly hidden movements under her skirt, both of Paula's hands looked to be busily trying hard to make their owner come to orgasm. One was circling more and more rapidly as this trance session went on; the other stayed more-or-less in place but pressed down from time to time as Paula's hips thrust in response. It was fascinating, Irina couldn't help but admit. The other woman's delight in her own body was intense in itself, but the way the hosiery outlined and defined the flexing flesh and muscle beneath, covered Paula's body while leaving parts of her uncovered, but only the parts she wanted someone to use... Paula wasn't privy to her friend's opinion on the matter, or apparently to anything which wasn't either coating her arms and legs, in her panties, or on the screen. She continued to masturbate at a sustained pace while repeating self-fulfilling prophecies about her own obsession with nylon stockings. Irina didn't need to hear Paula telling... whoever... that she'd come, or how many times, or how hard... she had been in the room for each exquisite instance. It was intoxicating. Irina could definitely see the draw to this fetish of Karl's. The things thin wisps of fabric did to her friend's form while she lost herself in a mess of pleasure and fluid-slicked nylon... Irina didn't know when she'd gone from aroused by the show to fuck-all horny and in need of a wet, slippery pussy-satiating finger job of her own, but she couldn't deny that was where she was at, now. Unfortunately, if she read the signs right, that was currently an impossibility to execute discreetly, since Paula was sitting normally again, working her way back up from her trance one numeral at a time. Fuck. "Huh." Irina found that her response came out in a strangled-sounding croak. "Yeah?" "Do you remember... did I have these gloves on when I started?" "Uh... nope." "I... I put them on while I was... under?" "Yep." "Oh. That's... weird." "It was. To watch." "Eesh. It's too bizarre for you, isn't it? I can tell." "Been bizarre the whole time, sweetie. I told you that at the start," she replied. "But you're my best friend. I'll make sacrifices." Like postponing masturbating about your antics, for instance. "Rina, I don't know what I'd do without you." "Probably do even more pervy shit. I keep you in line." It was hard to imagine how much more "out-of-line" her friend could get, though. Or how she could go through that whole thing and not suspect what she had been doing while under. Did some suggestion Irina was not privy to instruct her to not notice how much of a sopping mess her panties were, or the post-orgasmic aches in her nether regions? "Ha. Probably." Paula headed for the closet in the back hot teen stockings of the office, nonchalantly peeling off her gloves as she walked as if she'd already forgotten the oddity of how they'd manifested themselves. She flipped the light switch with her left hand while opening the closet door with her right. Within, Irina caught a glimpse of numerous unidentifiable items on hangers, as well as a large mesh sack hanging from a hook on the inside of the door. After depositing the opera gloves within said container, her friend hiked up her sundress and reached around underneath to unclasp her garters... eight in all. The hose loosened a bit down her thigh, and she slid them off her calves and ankles almost tenderly, holding each up to the light for examination before teen in black stockings depositing them in the same place the gloves had gone. "Dammit," she muttered. "Ran one. Must have snagged it on something." Maybe your fingernails while you were pawing at yourself earlier, Irina did not say. "I tell you, I go through more nylons now that I'm wearing them all the time... I need to be more careful. Especially with the fully-fashioned ones." "The what teen in white stockings?" "Fully-fashioned stockings. They're old school vintage types with the seams, you know. No spandex, just pure flat nylon thread. They look and feel divine, but they're expensive as hell." Were Paula's eyes crossing a bit in imagined rapture? "For special occasions only, unfortunately." "Didn't know there were such differences." "Oh, yes. These," she indicated the one she held in her hand, "are great for everyday wear, or for sleeping in." Sleeping in?! "But these are to FFs like a boxed wine is to... some kind of really good stuff... I don't actually know shit about wines." "Your use of analogy is so classy and profound, P." "I try sexy teen stockings." She tossed the offending article into a small basket on the floor that was, if anything, more full of hosiery than the dirty laundry bag its twin had gone to, then shut the closet once more. "I don't have any fresh ones down here, either." "Fresh ones?" "I can't very well wear the same hose to the mall as I wore to bed last night, can I?" "Perish the thought!" Maybe if you didn't sleep in them, for fuck's sake. "Oh, stop. I'm just trying to be ladylike." "No one is fooled, P." A lady in the sitting room, but a whore in the hypno-computer office in the basement. "Oh, stop it, you bitch! Let's go upstairs so I can get ready." "I'll be up in a minute. I've got like two pages to go on this chapter." "Okay. Hit the light as you come up." As Irina heard Paula's footfalls at the top of the stairs, she used all the stealth she could muster to creep across the room and unlatch the closet door. She emitted a low whistle at the sight of twenty to thirty separate bits of lingerie, not a single one of which was without suspender straps. There were garter belts, long and short; open-bottomed girdles, waist length and full-body; corsets with hooks and corsets with laces... black and beige and peach and white stretchy lace as well as black and red and cinnamon and burgundy satin... innocent and practical mingled with trashy and slutty, obeying neither rhyme nor reason. She ran her hands over and inside one of the sleazier numbers... something she could vaguely recall as either a "merrywidow" or a "basque" or something similar from her younger days perusing Victoria's Secret catalogs, when she'd had a man she'd wanted to bother to impress. Was one of these a waspie? she wondered. The material felt soft and smooth, and she held it to her cheek for a moment as she imagined... "Hey, bookworm, you almost done down there?" "Yeah, just closing it up. Be up in a sec." Irina's face was hot as she hurriedly put everything back in order, flipped off the erotic teen stockings, and climbed the stairs. She knew she wasn't going to make it for long on this shopping expedition. She needed release, lots of release, and a quick and urgent stroke-off in the ladies' room was not going to cover it tonight. Even ignoring how distractingly damp her panties were already, she knew seeing Paula trying on clothes in changing rooms, remembering the events of this evening while seeing her in underwear like the stuff from the closet with her "fresh" pair of stockings, was going to make matters worse. She was already manufacturing excuses to bail early. * * * Irina was on fire, but she thought she could at least make it home from Paula's house. Instead, she noticed the gas tank was near empty and realized that plan was not in the cards. Instead, she pulled into the back parking lot of a closed grocery store, eased her seat back, and went to town on herself. Her fingers danced up her thighs to their juncture, and her moisture flowed free. God, she hadn't felt this horny in months, and the fact that she'd been masturbating every day over the past few weeks didn't seem to take the edge off at all. Her clit urgently demanded attention, but she teased herself by ignoring it and fingering her hole. Her double-fingered plunges felt divine, and as her palm repeatedly returned to her center she twisted it slightly to apply just the right pressure to the miniature nub of flesh that was slowly becoming the center of her whole being.