More On Tights

I love the properties of tights. They are not in any way absorbent. They feel really good to rip. I can (if I’m in that kind of mood) pee through them, and they have the magical property of allowing me to flash myself at someone and have them not be quite sure.....”My God.....did she have panties on? Yes? No?” I love the wonderment.....the shock value. 

Panties are only really good for a day and a night. If you’re as wet as I get, you simply can’t wear panties two days in a row. Tights however, can last longer. 

I want to tell you about one day when I was 17 at school, and then what I did today. 

By now, my little group of panty flashers had shrunk to just three of us. We had it down to a fine art now, and even had a secret code between us. For example, we wore a little flower badge on the left lapel of out jackets, but if we moved it to the right, it meant we had taken our panties off and were naked under our skirts. If we sneezed in class and then smoothed our hair back, it meant we had just had an orgasm. We could all cum by thigh  squeezing, or pushing a ruler up our skirts, and rubbing our clit with the end of it. Amanda used to put an eraser in her panties which, she said, really helped her to cum. I tried it a couple of times, but it only worked once. 

So, this one day when we met up on the walk to school, we were talking, as usual, about how often we had cum the night before, and what we might get up to today, when Amanda said, “Hey, how about we just wear tights....no panties. And....how about we “post” our panties through our favourite boy’s locker?" 

The lockers lined the corridors and had ventilation slits at the top and bottom. The idea of a guy opening his locker in front of his mates to find a pair of damp panties hanging from the vent was a blast, so that’s what we did. 

Now, I must admit, I didn’t see the attraction in just wearing tights at that point, but as the day progressed....oh boy, did I change my mind. It just so happened it was mid cycle for me.....I was at my horniest, and therefore also at my wettest. By the end of second period, beginning of third period, I could easily smell my own scent whenever I moved my skirt. Sitting with my legs apart didn’t help either! I felt the cool air on my dampness and wanted more than anything to masturbate there and then. I daren't, because I knew I would squirt and tights....well.....go figure. The tension was almost unbearable by the time lunch break rolled round. 

We met up in the canteen, but couldn’t go outside because it was pouring with rain. I have no doubt that if we had, we would have had ourselves a little circle wank, with two girls keeping watch like little meerkats while the other went for it. (We had done this several times before.) 

By the time I got home, I could barely walk I was so aroused. I threw myself on my bed, ripped the crotch of my tights and rubbed my clit furiously, imagining I was being forcibly fucked by the guy I fancied at the time. I loved the feeling of each little “ping” as I slowly applied more pressure and my tights tore more and more. Then one huge tug to rip them to the waistband and I had what was surely one of my biggest orgasms so far. 

Fast forward to today. 

A new lockdown announced from Thursday, so the local mall is fairly full with people, but far from rammed as I expected. Coffee shops are making the most of it before they too are forced to close for four weeks. Some will do take aways, but my favourite one won’t. The one I use is more expensive than the others, and off the main thoroughfare, although it’s quality is unsurpassable, and it has a few tables outside the main shop. 

Which is why you find me sitting in a leather armchair next to a low coffee table in the window. My legs are indelicately apart, and underneath my short skirt, I am wearing very light coloured tights that are very sheer and almost transparent. Outside the coffee shop, on the concourse, are more tables. The tables are empty apart from one. There is a girl sitting on one of them and she keeps stealing glances at my crotch. I have my iPad balanced on my thighs and my feet on the ledge at the bottom of the window, about six inches from floor height.

I am writing this ‘live’ as she looks. Every time I lift my head to look out, she looks away. She looks away, but doesn’t move. How old? Mid twenties, I would say, but these days, who knows? Slim, blonde hair, small breasted like me. She is wearing jeans that look like they came from a spray can. There is just an occasional glimpse of tummy under a t shirt that is deliberately a little short. Ah...she has just moved a little and I can see the white waistband of her panties just peeking out above the top of her low cut jeans. 

So, I decide to get something from my bag down on the floor beside me. I reach into it, turning my body a little....spreading my legs a lot. Now, she will see my vagina, and there will be no doubt. When I steal a quick look back at her, she is flushed. A red glow on her cheeks that is extending down the sides of her neck. I treat her (and me) to a few more of these, and with each one my arousal builds, and so, according to her redness, does hers. 

She has her hand, her right hand across her lap and the fingers are holding the waistband of her underwear. She seems to be pulling it tight. Mmmmm. I know precisely what she is doing.....pulling her thong.....(I have no proof it’s a thong, but I bet it is) ...tight so that it puts pressure on her clit. I get up and go to the bathroom. All my stuff remains where I’m sitting, she knows I will be back and I know she will wait. The bathroom is empty. No need for a stall. I reach up my skirt and rip my tights at the crotch. Fuck...I am wet! Really fucking wet! 

Back in my chair, she is still there. Of course! I rearrange myself, but this time, I can’t just sit there knees apart. My knees are closed. She looks intently, and when no one else is passing by, I spread my knees. She stares, and her mouth opens. I can see her hand clenching and releasing, clenching and releasing and then..........I see her take a huge breath and tuck her head down. I have absolutely no doubt whatsoever that she has just cum into her underwear.

Equally, I have no doubt that I need to cum too....and that it won’t wait. This time, I gather up my things and put them in my shoulder bag. I stand, look directly at her, lock eyes, and smile. She smiles back. I incline my head over my shoulder towards the rest room. My meaning is clear. I don’t wait for a response....she either will or she won’t....anyway, I can feel my inner thighs wet with my cunt juices. My clit is yelling....screaming at me. So, I turn and walk to the restroom. 

Once there, I imagine myself walking from where she is to where I am. Across the short gap of concourse....in through the door.....a smile at the owner......past the tables.....under that hideous painting......to the restroom door. A hand on it....she pauses, gathering herself.....she takes a deep breath and.....

But the door doesn’t open. My little blondie doesn’t walk in, and I can’t whisk her into a stall and lick her and her panties clean again. 

So I dive into the stall alone. I dump my bag on the seat and lean back against the wall. My left hand ranks my skirt up high out of the way, and my right hand dives between my legs and through the hole I tore and onto my soaked cunt. 

I’m imagining her squatting in front of me licking me, but what makes me cum isn’t the image of her tongue, or imagining how it might feel to be licked out by her, it’s the image of what her cunt would look like, squished up in her white panties, under her tight jeans as she squats there, knees splayed wide for balance. I imagine one teardrop of her cunt juice oozing down her labia before being absorbed by her panties, and I cum.....quietly....biting my bottom lip......I thrust my pelvis forward, open my eyes and see a splatter on the floor as I squirt. If she had been here, that would have gone all over her face, in her hair, in her mouth. Another wave of orgasmic convulsions rips through me, almost tearing me apart with desire. At this precise moment, I am nothing but a sex machine. I would fuck anyone, any gender, any hole, or all of them. 

Minutes pass before I am capable of sitting on the seat of the lavatory and finding my iPad. Oddly, the wifi signal is really strong in the restroom! I’ve cleaned up as best I can, but I intend to travel home on foot and by bus still wearing my savaged tights. Maybe I will leak slowly onto the bus seat? Maybe, there will be one of the older busses on duty today....one with cloth upholstery rather than the wipe down plastic they use today. Maybe I can cream gently into the material.

I hope she goes home and has a proper wank thinking about what she saw. I know I shall. 

Time to go now.....