Loading...I was eighteen and it was the late sixties in the London suburbs. I was aching to see a woman dressed in a harem/genie costume with sheer legs and sleeves, but I had no idea how to achieve this and nobody I knew ever held costume parties (we don’t have that Halloween tradition in the UK). However, from the pictures and movies/TV shows in which I’d seen these costumes, I somehow knew that the sheer fabric from which they were made would be exciting to touch.
The only thing I could think of to satisfy my curiosity for the time being was buying one of the very sheer scarves that were very popular at the time and perhaps some nylons.
How on earth I was going to summon up the courage to buy these very feminine items was beyond me. In those days, for a man to show a hint of liking feminine garments was unthinkable and sure to bring derision.
But I’d made up my mind and in my free afternoon from college I visited the department store in the same town. I certainly didn’t have the nerve to visit a women’s clothing shop where I would stick out like a sore thumb, so the anonymity of the large store suited me. It still wasn’t that easy, however, as most of the counters selling women’s accessories were staffed by sales assistants who would pounce on you as soon as you showed any interest in their merchandise.
I tried the counter selling handbags and scarves first and as luck would have it the one assistant was busy with another customer around the other side of the square island. As was the fashion in those days, the scarves were laid out in rows in old-fashioned display boxes that sat on the top of the counter. The sheer scarves were split into two collections: silk and nylon.
Now, at that moment I didn’t know the difference the two types of fabric, so the only way to find out which one I would prefer would be to handle them, but I had to be quick as the shop assistant would never have let me touch them (they had all been trained to show them off in a particular way). I tried the silk scarves first and although they were soft and cool, I didn’t like the slightly crinkly texture. Then I reached for one of the nylon scarves. As my fingers closed around it, I knew immediately. The soft, smooth texture sent a thrilling tingle all the way down to my groin. I was just wondering how I could further examine this wonderful fabric without drawing attention to myself, when the assistant demanded, “Can I help you sir?”
“Er, yes,” I stammered, “I’d like one of these scarves, please. The red one.”
“That scarf,” she said, pointing to the one I’d been holding, is a long one, more like a stole and these up here are square headscarfs.”
I looked at her blankly. I didn’t really care, all I wanted to do was get it home and fondle it.
“Look, I’ll show you,” she said, picking up the red one. With a deft flick she unfolded the scarf in one movement and ran the loose end over her hand, As she did it drifted on the air and shimmered attractively.
I was hooked. “That’s lovely,” I said, “I’ll take it.”
As the assistant gently folded the scarf up again and slid it into a paper bag, a female voice to my left said, “They’re like gossamer, aren’t they?”
I looked across and found my gaze met by the most beautiful green eyes just a few inches below mine and the warm smile added to the already pretty face which was framed by softly-curled black hair that came just below her ears. She must have been about thirty years old.
“Yes, er, thank you,” I replied, returning her smile.
I could feel my face turning bright red as I hurried away. I now didn’t know if I had the strength to finish my shopping trip. I needed to calm down, so I made my way up to the menswear department and wandered around there for a few minutes.
After a while I returned to the ground floor and strode directly over to the hosiery counter. There would be no opportunity to feel the nylons before buying them as they were all done up in cellophane packets. I could only guess at the texture, but I would try my best. Again, I didn’t know the first thing about them.
“I would like to buy a pair of nylons, please,” I asked the assistant.
“Certainly, sir. Well, these are very popular these days, if the lady in question still wears a suspender belt or garters. They’re run-resistant, the latest development in stocking technology.”
I looked closely at the packet she had handed me and was surprised at their lack of sheerness.
“You’re not trying to sell him some of those ghastly micromesh nylons, are you?” came a now-familiar voice from behind me. “They’re like wearing sandpaper.”
The assistant shot a look of pure hatred at my new friend, who came up beside me and flashed me the smile again.
“He’s after a pair of seamless flat-knit nylons. You do still sell them, don’t you?”
“Yes, madam,” the assistant said stiffly.
My friend touched my arm lightly. “I hope you don’t mind me helping you.”
“Of course not. I don’t really know what to get, I just wanted something special.”
“Let’s see what we can find,” she said, winking her eye at me.
“What are the finest quality you have, please?”
“These, madam, but they’re three times the price of the micromesh.”
My friend took the packet and examined the nylons carefully, turning the packet over in her hands.
Then she turned to me and almost whispering, said, “These are bloody gorgeous, you won’t be disappointed. Can you afford them?”
I nodded.
“I think my friend will take these, please. They are the right size aren’t they she said, winking at me again.
“What? Yes. Of course.” I was being dragged along by this lovely, clever woman who seemed to be able to read my mind.
As we got further away from the counter, she said to me, “You wait ’till you run your hands over those beauties.”
“But they’re not for me,” I protested.
She stopped and turned me towards her. “Look, there’s nothing to be ashamed of. I know the courage it took for you to buy those things today, especially as they’re not a present for anybody.”
I was astonished. “How do you know?” I was turning a deeper red than before.
“Well,” she said, with a grin on her face, “if you do me a favour, I’ll tell you later. Deal?”
“Certainly,” I said, smiling back.
I didn’t care what the favour was, I was overwhelmed with relief. That this woman knew that the things I’d bought were for me to enjoy at home and the fact that she seemed happy to discuss it with me was more than I could have hoped for.
“Right,” she said, “I need a new vacuum cleaner, but I won’t be able to carry it to my car. You look like a strong lad.”
“I bet you say that to all the young men.”
She laughed.
By the time we reached the car park, I’d had to change the box from one arm to the other several times.
“I expect you’re a student here at the college, is that right?” she said, handing me back my battered briefcase.
“Yes.”
“Have you got any lectures this afternoon?”
“Not on Wednesdays.”
“Perfect. Do you fancy a cup of tea and a nice little chat back at my place? I can give you a lift back home afterwards.”
“That sounds great!”
“By the way, my name is Clare.”
“Peter,” I replied. “Very pleased to meet you.”
Her house was a large Victorian terraced villa. We went through to the kitchen, which was bigger than my whole flat and she motioned me to take a seat while she switched on the kettle.
“I noticed you’re wearing a wedding ring,” I said. “Is your husband at work?”
“Yes, but in France for another three weeks. He’s in the film industry. I hope you’re not getting any ideas?”
“Oh no!” I protested. “It’s just I wouldn’t want him to come home and find a strange young man in his kitchen talking to his wife.”
“Fair point.”
“You were right, of course,” I said. “The scarf and the stockings are for me. How did you know?”
“An educated guess, I suppose. I saw the way you fondled the scarf without making it too obvious until the assistant nearly caught you. I decided there and then to try and talk to you, to put your mind at ease, but you hurried off. I decided to follow you at a discrete distance to await an opportunity, but nearly gave up when you went up to the next floor. Then, when you went to hosiery counter, I moved in to make sure they didn’t sell you any crap. Some of those older female assistants don’t like selling intimate feminine garments to male customers and try to fob them off as quickly as possible.”
“Do you like these things as well?” I ventured. “Things made from transparent nylon.”
“Don’t be shy,” Clare said kindly. “You mean do I find them exciting to touch?”
“Yes.”
“Yes, I do have a fetish for sheer nylon. That’s why I helped you.”
“Thank you so much. Until today, I’ve never had the opportunity to get near any sheer nylon, let alone touch some. I’ve always got excited when I’ve seen women dressed in sheer clothing in magazines, on the TV or in films, so I’ve been longing to try the feel of the fabric against my skin for ages and I finally plucked up the courage to buy some.”
“So you knew just by seeing the fabric? Can you remember how it started?”
“I think I was about six years old. I was playing in a friend’s garden with my brother. They had this very large garden shed, used as a temporary store room, which was always unlocked whenever we visited and I wandered in there on my own, looking for inspiration.
I spotted a corner of a scarf sticking out from underneath pile of stuff and immediately thought of using it to tie around my face in the style of the cowboy films of the day. I pulled it out carefully and folded the square scarf corner to corner and placed it over my lower face ready to fix it at the back of my head, but as soon as the fabric touched my skin, this wave of unexpected pleasure ran through my body. I was intoxicated by the delicious feeling of the silky fabric against my skin and the hint of perfume still left on the fibres.
I stood there breathing in and out through the scarf, overwhelmed by this heavenly experience. The next thing I knew, one of the others came looking for me and I had to abandon the scarf.”
“That sounds lovely,” Clare said. “Sorry, carry on.”
“The next incident that indicated I had unusual tastes was about three or four years later. Do you remember the old Fry’s Turkish Delight TV adverts?”
“I certainly do. Whole rooms full of chiffon-clad harem dancers!”
“Well, the first time I saw one of these adverts on TV, my heart was beating so fast it was ready to burst out of my chest. I even had an erection, which I was trying to hide from my mum. I became particularly excited if the dancer’s costumes had billowing chiffon sleeves and pantaloons. Here’s the sort of thing I mean.”
I reached into my briefcase and pulled out a black and white photograph from one of the internal pockets and handed it to her. It showed a harem girl running across a film set with the gossammer-sheer sleeves and legs of her outfit billowing out and fluttering against her limbs.
“Did you photograph this from the TV?”
“Yes, it’s from an episode of The Avengers, called ‘Honey For The Prince’.”
Clare studied it carefully and then focussed her attention on me again.
“What I can’t explain,” I continued, “is that even though I found the sight of the dancers dressed in this way exciting beyond description, I also knew for certain that I would be just as excited if I wore one of the outfits myself or was able to fondle the chiffon.”
“I would guess you haven’t had any success with that.”
“None whatsoever.”
“You poor man. It must make it worse seeing lovely outfits like this on TV, knowing that they’re inaccessible,” Clare said, waving the photo. “I bet you’d love to wear this one.” “More than anything.”
“I wouldn’t mind either. I’m certain the sheer fabric is nylon chiffon. Look, let me give it some thought — there must be a way we can get you inside a costume like this.”
“Thanks, but how do I manage it? I can’t just wander in to a fancy dress shop and ask for a lady’s harem costume. I’m too tall.”
“There are plenty of very tall female dancers and I’m sure one of the big theatrical costumiers in London will be able to fix you up.”
“Anyway, let’s have a look at what you’ve bought.” Clare held out her hand.
I rummaged in my briefcase, took out both bags and handed them to her.
She chose the scarf first, running it through and over her fingers. “Mmmmm, nice.” Then she began to caress her face with the scarf and drew in her breath appreciatively. “What a luscious piece of chiffon, I bet it’s made in Italy.” She nodded as she read the label, then handed it to me.
I stroked and fondled the scarf to appreciate its beautiful texture, then I held it across my face and breathed through the silky fabric. By this time I had a seriously hard erection.
All this time Clare had been smiling at me. “I don’t need to ask if you’re enjoying that. Would you like to wear that around your face for a little longer? I could make it fit you just like a harem girl’s veil.”
“Oh, yes please,” I breathed.
“Back in a sec’, then.”
When she returned, she stood behind me and spent a couple of minutes fixing the scarf in place somewhere around the crown of my head.
“Is that comfortable?”
“Very and it feels great.”
“Have a look in the mirror.”
I was astounded. Clare had arranged the fabric so that it lay in soft folds across my face from just above the tip of my nose round under my chin, stopping at my throat. It meant that every time I moved my mouth and chin to speak, it felt as if every part of my lower face was being caressed by the silky smooth chiffon.
“I don’t know what to say. It feels so lovely, I wish I could keep it on forever.”
“Well, there’s no hurry to take it off,” she said with a sly grin. “Now let’s have a look at these luxury nylons.”
Clare carefully opened the cellophane envelope and pulled them gently out. They were wrapped around a small piece of cardboard and she slowly unwound them until they were completely free of all packaging. Even from a few feet away I could see how shiny and smooth the delicate nylon was. She separated the pair and held one out to me. “Now be very gentle with these, they can so easily be ruined.”
I took hold of the stocking by the dark band at the top and sat down again. The way the fabric drifted in the air was enchanting and the feeling of it on my fingers was delicious.
Clare took her stocking and held it gently over her nose and mouth like I had done with the scarf. “These are heavenly,” she said and as she spoke the gossamer nylon drifted against and away from her mouth with every breath and syllable.
“My God!” I exclaimed. “That’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.”
“How about this?” Clare said as she slowly began to breathe in and out.
“Please don’t wake me up, I think I must be dreaming,” I sighed.
“Right,” she said, “roll your sleeves up as far as they will go.”
By the time I had finished the second arm, Clare had already gathered up the nylon she was holding as far as its ankle.
“Hold out your left arm and make as small a fist as possible,” she ordered.
Before I knew it, she had unrolled the nylon all the way up my arm and deftly tucked the dark band into the top of my shirt sleeve. The feeling of the gossamer fabric as it brushed against my skin was indescribable. Once she had covered the other arm, I carefully opened up my fists.
“Perfect,” she said.
I put my right hand on my left arm and vice versa and slowly caressed each arm through the nylon. I couldn’t believe the silky smoothness of the fabric. “I had no idea garments as fabulous as this existed,” I said.
“Just a little bit special, aren’t they?”
“If only they could make a whole suit out of this nylon.”
“Ah, every nylon-lover’s dream. Try walking around a bit with the nylons on your arms.”
I walked to the other side of the kitchen and as I did, the loose-fitting nylons fluttered against my arms delightfully, accompanied by a cool sensation.
“Glad you bought them, then?”
“Not half!”
“Take a seat, I’ll be back in a minute.”
I took the opportunity to fondle the nylons covering my arms again, but Clare was back in no time.
“Close your eyes,” she said. “I’ve got a real treat for you.”
I then felt the gentle pressure of something soft against the veil covering my mouth.
“Don’t be alarmed,” Clare giggled. “You’ll love this.”
Then I felt this exsquisite soft cool sliding sensation across my lower face, slowly moving back and forth.
“That’s heavenly,” I sighed. “What are you using to caress my face?”
“I thought you’d like it,” Clare answered. “Have a look.”
I opened my eyes and saw she was holding a nylon, one of her own, between both hands out in front of my face.
“That’s the most exciting sensation I’ve ever felt in my life. Can you do it some more, please?”
Then as Clare started stroking the nylon across the veil again I realised just how excited I had been getting and I could feel a lovely warm tingling glow building up in my groin.
“I’m going to come,” I moaned.
“What was that?” Clare whispered in my left ear, barely suppressing a giggle.
“I’m g-g-going to come!”
“I should hope so,” Clare laughed. “In fact I absolutely insist you make a hot sticky mess in your underpants right now”
With that I let out something halfway between a moan and a shout as a volcanic wave of ecstasy swept over me and my cock jerked in a glorious mighty spasm.
I don’t know how long my orgasm lasted, but I know Clare kept up the delicious stroking across my face until I slumped down into the chair.
Clare moved around in front of me and cupped my veil-covered face in her hands.
“I think we can call that a success,” she said, “and I didn’t even have to touch you.”
“That has to be the orgasm of a lifetime,” I sighed. “Thank you, Clare, thank you.”
“OK, you can clean yourself up in the bathroom. I’ll lend you a pair of my husband’s underpants.”
After I’d finished, Clare made me another cup of tea. “So you liked what I did with the veil?” she said.
“Yes, it was really erotic, the feeling of it and the way it looked.”
“Well, I can alter it so that all you have to do is pull it on over your head and it will stay in place. Would you like that?”
“Yes, please!”
“It will take a few days. Can you come back next Wednesday afternoon to collect it?”
“Certainly.”
“By then I should have a few ideas for how you can get hold of a really nice costume for a few days.”
“That’s very kind of you. Perhaps I could even buy a costume.”
“Perhaps, but they’re quite expensive. The best ones are made for film and theatre use by top seamstresses.”
“Pity. Oh well, see you next Wednesday afternoon, then,” I said, getting up to leave. “By the way, what if you have a visitor, or your husband has returned early from his trip?”
“Ring me on this number before you start out,” Clare said, handing me a card. “See you next week.”
Needless to say, the next week went by full of anticipation. I wasn’t expecting for anything more than to collect my scarf and enjoy a cup of tea.
Next Wednesday morning was a blur. When I looked at my lecture notes at the end of the morning, I couldn’t even remember making them.
Before I knew it, I was out of the college grounds and making my way to the nearest public telephone.
“Hello, is that Clare?”
“Yes. Hello Peter. Have you eaten?”
“Yes,” I lied.
Her voice sounded even kinder than before.
“I’m sure you won’t refuse a cup of tea. How long will it take you to get here?”
“About fifteen minutes.”
See you about quarter past, then. Bye!”
“Come in, Peter, I’ll put the kettle on. The yashmak is all ready for you.”
“Yashmak?”
“That’s the proper name for it.”
Clare picked up the yashmak from the table and handed it to me. The fabric had been cleverly and loosely gathered and the two halves were connected with light elastic so that it would stay in place.
“Shall I give you a hand?” Clare said, sitting me before the mirror.
“Yes, please.”
In no time at all Clare had deftly positioned the yashmak in place, with the elastic section hidden away at the back of my head gripping it ever so lightly but securely.
“Do you think you could manage that on your own?” she asked.
“I’m sure I could.”
“How does it feel?”
“Delightful.”
As she stirred the tea, Clare said, “You can return the favour.”
“Of course. What would you like me to do?”
“Help me move a chest of drawers from one bedroom to the other.
“OK,” I said, standing up.
“No, you relax and finish your tea. I’ve got to clear some stuff out of the way first and I can do that on my own. I’ll let you know when I’m ready.
I didn’t want to take the yashmak off just yet so I pulled it down to just below my lips and carefully sipped the hot tea. I was thinking I wouldn’t mind staying here for the rest of my life, except for the small matter of the husband. I would do anything for a woman like Clare.
I finished the tea and took hold of the bottom of the yashmak. It slipped up over my head with surprising ease. Clare had made a fine job of it.
“Peter!” Clare called out from the landing. “I’m ready.”
“OK. I’m on my way.”
When I reached the landing, Clare was nowhere in sight and all the doors were just slightly ajar.
“Which room?” I called.
“Oh sorry, I’m in here.”
Her voice, which had a definite giggle, was coming from the door behind me.
I opened the door. The main part of the obviously large room lay at the end of a short passageway, so all I could see was the edge of the net-covered window and the adjacent wall. As I came level with the main part of the bedroom, the sight that greeted me nearly made me faint with desire.
I gasped and put my hand over my mouth. Spread out seductively on the enormous double bed was Clare dressed in a fabulous blue harem costume with chiffon sleeves and legs. Every time she moved the sheer fabric slid about and bounced and floated and fluttered into lovely soft, round, shiny folds.
I had to sit down on the bed.
“I take it you like what you see?” Clare teased.
“Oh, Clare!” I said. “This is the nicest, most selfless thing anyone’s ever done for me.”
“Thank you, Peter. I don’t get compliments like that every day.”
I just couldn’t take my eyes off her.
“Goodness, Clare, you’re pretty delectable normally, but dressed like this you’re absolutely stunning. AND you’ve got a great body!”
“You’ll wear out my ‘thank you’ muscle,” she grinned.
“May I?” I said, reaching for one of the costume’s chiffon legs.
“Certainly. I would want to.”
I took hold of two layers of the fabric between my fingers and thumb and slid them back and forth. The slightest whisper of friction transferred itself to my finger tips in a delightful manner.
“This is luscious,” I said. “Is it nylon chiffon?”
“Well I said it probably was.”
“What do you mean?”
Clare leaned over to a bedside table, picked up a photograph and held it up in front of me. I was so transfixed with the liquid movement of the chiffon, that at first I wasn’t focussing on the picture. When I did, I almost fell off the bed. The photograph was the one I’d left behind last week.
“You’re wearing the costume from the Avengers’ episode!”
“The very same. Even nicer in real life, isn’t it?”
“It’s a dream come true and it’s so beautifully made. I just love the way the legs are attached to the leg holes on the panty. That’s so skilful. Can I ask you to do something for me?”
“Ooh, that depends,” Clare said teasingly.
She was idly running her hand up and down one of the sheer sleeves, which distracted me for a second.
“What would you like me to do?” Clare reminded me.
“Sorry, I was distracted by you stroking the chiffon. I’d like to see you walking about a bit so that I can watch the fabric move.”
“Yes, of course.”
Clare got up and walked onto the landing. “Where would you like me to walk?”
“Up and down the stairs would be perfect. I’ll watch from the bottom.”
I find it impossible to describe adequately the thrill I got from watching Clare trip down her stairs and then up again or the enchanting way the chiffon bounced and floated and fluttered around her limbs as she moved from step to step. I was in a dangerously high state of excitement. Then when she reached the landing, she turned to face me and performed a little belly dance that had me gasping again.
“Follow me,” she called out, as she skipped back to her bedroom.
I found her sitting on the edge of her bed by the wardrobe. “Sit next to me,” she said.
“How did you manage to get the same costume?”
“My husband’s not the only one connected with the film industry. I contacted the wardrobe who supplied the costumes for that episode and because they know me, they agreed to let me borrow it for a few days. Unfortunately, they don’t do fancy dress rentals, so you’re very lucky indeed.”
“It’s a pity it won’t fit me — it’s a perfect fit on you. Thanks. It’s a real treat to see you dressed up in it and I’m so grateful you went to all this trouble for me. I must be the luckiest man alive.”
“Probably luckier than you think. This other one was far too big for me.”
Before I had a chance to think about what she’d just said, she had leaned forward and opened the wardrobe door furthest from me.
It took a fraction of a second to take in what was hanging up behind the door. Then I gasped yet again. It was another harem outfit almost the same, if not identical in design, to the one she was wearing.
“You lovely, lovely woman!” I cried out.
“Thank you again,” Clare said. “I tried to make the second half of the surprise as exciting as possible. You had no idea, did you?”
“No. Can I put it on now?”
“I’m surprised you’re still sitting here. You might need some help, women’s costumes are always a little trickier. Oh, and you’ll have to take off your underpants.”
“Do you mind seeing me naked?”
“Not at all, as long as you don’t mind.”
I took both halves of the costume off the hanger and laid them on the bed. I was beginning to shake with anticipation whilst Clare watched me. I’ve never undressed so quickly, in fact it was more like a frenzy. I stopped when I got to my underpants, but it wasn’t worth trying to be discrete as the tip of my cock was showing above the waistline. I whipped off my underpants and the angle of my cock hardly altered from the vertical, I was so excited.
Clare giggled, covering her mouth. “That’s one very excited cock,” she said. “I’m so glad you’re really enjoying this. Let me know immediately if you feel you’re getting too excited as I have another treat in store for you and I don’t want you to miss out on it. Do you have a handkerchief with you?”
“Yes,” I said, fishing it out of my jeans pocket and handing it to her still folded.
“Sit on the edge of the bed,” said Clare. “We’ll get the trousers on first.”
She gathered up the left leg using both hands so that I could put my left foot through the left side of the satin panty and the left ankle cuff in one movement. Then she did the same with my right foot so that the chiffon trousers were pooled around my ankles.
“OK, stand up and we’ll see if I guessed your measurements correctly, although with a garment like this a few inches either way makes little difference.”
Clare took hold of the panty on either side and slowly began to pull it up to my waist. The feeling of the nylon chiffon trousers being slid up my legs was too much for me and I let out a moan of pleasure. At the same time my legs buckled slightly.
Clare stopped briefly and smiled up at me. “I know,” she said. “You’ve been longing for ages to wear a garment like this, to feel it against your skin, and now that it’s happening at last, it’s a little overwhelming. The first time is always the best and most exciting. You must be in seventh heaven. Shall I pull them all the way up, now?”
“Yes,” I said weakly, “I’ll be alright.”
With that Clare slid the panty into place, but I couldn’t suppress another involuntary gasp. “Hold the waist at the back for a moment, will you, while I sort out the front,” she said.
I looked down and noticed that the panty had a vertical slit from the waistline to the gusset where a seam had been undone, presumably by Clare.
She grabbed hold of the waistline and moved it round a fraction until the slit lined up with my bulging cock, but the tip was still trapped under the waistband. So she lifted the waistband carefully until my cock sprang out.
“OK, you can let go of the waistband now,” she said, pulling the front of the panty down by a couple of inches. “Can you ease your balls out as well?” she asked.
“Certainly.” It seemed to be an unspoken agreement that Clare wouldn’t touch my naked cock. Sex without skin contact, if you like. I was already, as she put it, in seventh heaven and had no doubt that very soon I was going to have another shattering orgasm.
With my balls now dangling out through the slit Clare pulled the panty up tight again and reached round and did the zip up at the back. She stepped back to have a look. “They’re a perfect fit,” she said. “Have a look in the mirror.”
“They’re gorgeous!” I said, running my hands over the slippery, shiny nylon. “I wish I could wear them forever.”
“Well at least all afternoon, anyway,” Clare said.
“That’s a million times better than I would have hoped for this morning.”
“Wait a minute,” Clare said. “I forgot to do up the ankle cuffs.” She bent down and fastened them with the attached hooks and eyes.
“Now for the top,” Clare continued. “You’ll definitely need a hand with that as it does up at the back like a bra and I would guess you haven’t had the practice.”
I shook my head.
Clare took the top with the front pointing towards her and held the left side out for me. I slid my arm into the left sleeve. Again the delicious feeling as the sheer nylon travelled up my arm.
The top was an unusual design with the tops of the sleeves attached to the shoulder straps, so as soon as Clare had hooked both over my shoulders, there was no danger of the garment slipping off. She then moved around to the back and attached the hooks and eyes of the back strap. The cuffs also fastened with hooks and eyes.
I looked down and noticed from the bra cups that the lady for whom this costume had been made was well-endowed. I pressed one satin cup and it stayed dented.
“I’ve got just the thing for those,” said Clare, “unless you’re going to grow a pair of substantial tits in the next few minutes.”
She reached down beside the bed and lifted up a bag filled with something soft and immediately emptied the contents on to the bed. The bag had contained what looked like dozens of pairs of nylons, soft and smooth like the pair Clare had chosen for me the week before.
“They’ve all got runs in them, but I never throw them away,” Clare explained. “Stuff as many as you like into each cup while I nip downstairs and fetch your yashmak. You’ll have the added bonus of the nylons rubbing against your nipples. By the way, you do want to wear your yashmak as well, don’t you?”
“Yes, please!”
“That’s the spirit. By the time I’ve finished, you won’t know which nylon caress to concentrate on”
When Clare returned a couple of minutes later, I had used about two thirds of her old nylons and the sensation of having them caress my chest as I breathed in and out wasn’t half bad.
She cupped my ‘breasts’ and slid them about, the nylons tickling my nipples. “Nice, eh?” she said.
Then Clare slid my yashmak over my face and stood back. “Beautiful,” she said. “Have another look in the mirror.
The sight that greeted me was sexier than I had imagined it could be. I turned to the left and right, mainly to feel the chiffon swish against my arms and legs. “I wish today could last forever,” I said to Clare. “I can’t thank you enough.”
“Can I use your stairs to get the fabric moving against my skin as you did,” I added.
She took my hand. “Of course. Come on.”
Clare stood at the bottom whilst I ran up and down several times. Words can’t describe the way the sheer nylon bounced and fluttered and swished sweetly against my skin.
Clare laughed with delight.
I came down the stairs for the last time and she took my hand again as we both ran up to her bedroom.
“I haven’t finished yet,” she said, with a broad grin on her face. “Time for your big treat.”
She pulled a packet out of her dressing table drawer and sat down facing me. “Over here, then,” she said, smiling at me. “That’s right, stand facing me.”
I could now see that the packet was a brand new pair of nylons, the same as the ones I had bought.
Clare didn’t say anything, but slowly and deliberately took the nylons out of the packet. Then she threw the packaging to one side and lay the nylons over her thighs, but as soon as she let them go, they slid off the chiffon legs of her trousers and fell to the ground.
“Whoops,” she said, bending down. “Everything is beautiful and slippery today.”
This time Clare kept hold of one nylon and tucked the top of the other one in the waistband of her panty. Then she looked me in the eyes and said, “Do you know what I’m going to do with these lovely slippery nylons, Peter?”
“Not yet,” I replied truthfully.
Then Clare took the free nylon in both hands and started gathering it up and suddenly I understood what she was going to do with it and I felt a sudden surge of pleasure in my groin.
“Oh my God, I’m going to come!” I called out.
Swiftly, Clare wrapped my handkerchief around my cock and squeezed hard for several seconds near its base as the wave of ecstasy slowly subsided.
“Tell me when it’s safe to let go,” Clare said.
“I will,” I promised. To be honest I let her continue gripping my cock for half a minute longer than necessary, but I wanted to be sure.
“OK,” I nodded. “That was a close one. You were fantastic.”
“Rest your hands on my shoulders,” Clare said.
I did as she asked as she picked up the nylon and gathered it all the way down to the heel.
“Shall we give your cock a treat by dressing him in this beautiful silky nylon, Peter?”
“Yes, please.”
“OK, hold tight.”
The feeling as she slid the foot of the nylon over my cock was indescribable.
“Can you slip your balls into the rest of the nylon, whilst I hold it steady, Peter?”
“Of course,”
It was a bit of a struggle, but when I finally managed it, the gathered-up section sat neatly at the base of my cock, tucked in behind my balls. My manhood was securely encased in soft, sheer nylon. Clare then finished off by neatly tucking the excess nylon behind the slit in the front of the panty.
“There,” she said, “that looks quite fetching.”
I had to agree that it was quite an erotic sight.
“Now close your eyes for a few seconds,” said Clare, “and keep your hands resting on my shoulders. You can fondle the chiffon of my sleeves if you like.”
I closed my eyes and waited. She was obviously preparing something. Then I felt something soft and slippery being slid down over my cock which made it twitch with pleasure.
“Don’t open your eyes yet,” Clare said. “Can you guess what I’ve done?”
“I think you’ve wrapped the other nylon around my cock.”
“That’s right. Have a look.”
I looked down and the other nylon was indeed rolled up resting at the base of my cock.
“Have you done this with the nylons you bought, yet”
“No, I hadn’t thought of it. What a wonderful idea.”
“Are you ready?”
I nodded.
“Look at me and don’t take your eyes off my face.”
I obeyed and I could feel her hand closing around the outer nylon, gently gripping my cock. As I stared into her lovely eyes, I felt her hand slide the rolled-up nylon all the way to the tip and I let out a long moan of pleasure.
“Nice?” Clare said, holding the rolled-up nylon still. “Keep looking at me.”
I nodded in agreement and a wide smile spread across her face.
“OK,” Clare said, “Just concentrate on one nylon sliding over the other, gently slipping up and down your cock.”
Then she slowly slid the outer nylon all the way back down again, but instead of stopping this time, she started back in the other direction, slightly faster. With each new stroke she increased the speed and kept smiling at me.
The sensation of one nylon sliding over the other up and down my cock was indescribable and I knew, even though I was trying to hold out for as long as possible, especially with the sight of her dressed in her costume and the occasional caress against my skin from the chiffon of my own costume, that I would be coming very soon.
As if reading my mind, Clare said, “You’re nearly there, aren’t you?
“Oh, yes,” I managed to reply.
“Just let go, then and fill up this lovely nylon. That’s what you want to do, isn’t it?”
“Yes, Clare. More than anything.”
I was now on the plateau of ecstasy and knew there would be no going back. Then she cupped my balls and squeezed gently and all at once my whole body was consumed with the most wonderful orgasm I had ever had.
My knees buckled, but I managed to hold myself up by her shoulders.
“Oh Clare!” I cried out and she laughed with delight.
“Oh!” I sighed with each enormous spasm.
“Go on Peter, fill that nylon,” she urged, still laughing.
“Clare, that was incredible,” I gasped, as the spasms dwindled away.
“I thought you might enjoy that. Now keep still while I mop up the mess. I don’t want any semen stains on these costumes.”
“Of course.”
She carefully slid the nylons off over the top of my cock, taking care to mop up all of my come, and placed them on top of a couple of tissues on her dressing table. Then she took another tissue and handed it to me.
“Make sure you soak up every last drop,” she said, taking the wet nylons with her out of the room.
I heard water running as my cock at last shrank back to its normal size. When I was sure that no more come was going to dribble out, I chucked the tissue in the waste bin and sat down at last on the edge of the bed.
“Would you like to help me come now?” Clare said, as she breezed back into the bedroom.
“Of course. What would you like me to do?”
“First of all, let’s make your hands nice and slippery,” she said, pulling two more nylons from out of a drawer in her dressing table.
Then she undid the cuffs of my sleeves and gathered up each of the nylons over my hands. Next she closed the cuffs again, trapping the excess fabric above my wrists so that I had a nylon mitt on each hand.
“Perfect,” she said, propping up a pillow against the headboard of the bed.”Now sit on the bed with your back against the pillow and spread your legs apart.”
She reached into the drawer of the bedside cabinet and drew out a plastic tube between seven and eight inches long and about an inch and a quarter in diameter.
“That’s one of those new vibrators, isn’t it? I’ve heard about them, but this is the first time I’ve seen one.”
“Yes, and it’s going to give me a nice relaxing hands-free orgasm with your help. Here, what do you think?”
She switched it on at the bottom and handed it to me. The tingling feeling in my fingers was almost too much.
“Wow, that’s really powerful,” I answered, handing it back to her.
She switched off the vibrator and turned to face away from me and I could see she’d already undone the zip on her costume panty.
Then she lowered her chiffon trousers about halfway down her thighs and even though I couldn’t see what she was doing, it was easy to guess that she was inserting the vibrator into her vagina.
I was beginning to get another erection at the thought.
She pulled her trousers up tight, closed the zip and turned to face me again. I could just see the outline of the vibrator’s switch under her satin panty. When she saw my erection, she giggled.
“Have you switched it on yet?” I asked.
“Oh no. That’s for later.”
I couldn’t wait to see what effect it would have when she did turn it on.
“Right, make room for me, I’m going to sit between your legs so I can rest my back on your chest.” She said, reaching round to undo the strap on her top. In no time at all she was settled between my legs with her head resting just below my chin.
“OK,” she said, “curl your legs over mine so that your feet are resting on the bed between my legs. That’s it. Now bring your arms around under mine. I’ve got another little surprise for you.”
She took hold of my nylon-covered hands and slipped them up behind her now loosened bra cups and from the delicious sensation coming from my fingertips, it was obvious that she was wearing a secret nylon chiffon bikini top under her costume. As my fingers rested on her bulging nipples, she let out a small gasp.
“Let me show you what I want you to do,” she said, moving my fingers across her nipples in a cycle of stroking and gentle pinching.
“Carry on,” she said, removing her hands.
“Oh, yes! Peter,” she sighed. “That’s it. Just keep doing that.”
Then she rested her hands on my thighs and slowly stroked the chiffon covering my legs. We carried on like this for a couple of minutes and then I began to notice that her breathing was becoming faster and more intense.
“Carry on, Peter,” she said. “You’re doing a lovely job.”
“I can’t wait for you to switch that thing on,” I whispered.
“I’m just going to,” she said, reaching down.
Suddenly a dull buzzing vibrated through her lower body and she squealed with delight.
“Faster, harder, Peter,” she urged. “I’m nearly there.”
“Yes, yes, yeeess,” she moaned as I strengthened my stroking and pinching.
Then her hands flew up to her mouth and she gasped and squirmed as the first spasm coursed through her body, then another and another. I tried counting, but I was so pleased that she was having a fantastic orgasm, that I lost track.
She finally came to rest with her head laying on my left thigh. After a few seconds she switched the vibrator off and smiled up at me.
“That was unbelievable,” she sighed. “Thank you for your help, Peter.”
We spent the rest of the afternoon propped up on her bed still wearing our harem outfits while Clare gave me some useful advice on how to get hold of a costume just as nice as the one I was wearing.
“What I’d really like once I can afford it,” I said, “is a costume like this one, made to measure.”
“Well I’ve already thought of that,” said Clare, as she handed me a card with a lady’s name and telephone number on it. “I’ve already spoken to her,” Clare continued, “and she’d be more than happy to make an outfit for you. She’s a lovely lady and very broad-minded. Most importantly, she said that because you’re a friend of mine, she’ll only charge you half price.”
When I left later, I knew I’d probably had the happiest and most exciting afternoon of my life, even though Clare and I had agreed not see each other again. She said she didn’t want to start an affair and I was happy to agree with her.