Demi's Pantyhose Tease

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Demi's website has unfortunately closed since the story first appeared...

- I would like to speak to Mrs. Demi Dean please…

- Speaking…

- I am sorry to bother you madam, but my name is Tom Bradford and I am from the UK government, Custom and Excise Department. I need to meet with you to clarify certain tax matters on your report of last year.

- Oh? What about exactly…

- I cannot discuss the details over the phone, madam. This is strictly confidential and I must meet with you in person. I am authorized to visit at your own home or have you come to my office. Whichever suits you best? Tomorrow would be ideal for me…

- I'm afraid I do not have a car so it isn't possible for me to come to your office.

- I could meet you at home then. Are you free tomorrow madam?

- Yes, my husband is away on a business trip and won't be returning until next Wednesday. So you can come whenever you wish.

- Let's say early afternoon then?

- That would be fine.

- I shall be there at about one thirty, two o'clock latest.

- Very well.

- Thank you and have a good day madam.

I hang up the phone, somewhat intrigued by the soft voice of Mrs. Dean. I wonder why she told me her husband was away on a business trip. That isn't a very safe thing to do; especially telling me he won't be home for almost another week still! After all, she cannot be certain I am who I say I am… Um! Maybe there is someone else living with her…

The next morning is spent at my office doing some cleanup in my files. It is the end of month and I like to start the next one fresh. That's why I try to clear everything from my desk, so I can leave on this sunny Friday afternoon with peace of mind. The Dean file is nothing really important and I should be obtaining the missing information within an hour after meeting with Mrs. Dean. Then I would be off for the long Easter weekend and enjoy those three days off at my countryside home.

It is eleven thirty when I realize I am done. My stomach is in need of a sandwich and a soup before I hit the road towards the Dean house. Luckily for me, they live quite near my own home…

I hurry towards the nearby restaurant just before the lunchtime crowd arrives and quickly swallow a hot vegetable soup accompanied by a bacon and tomato sandwich. I love to watch people rush in, as they are all in a hurry to get served and get back to their office on time. My favorite pastime is to catch a glimpse of ladies wearing tights and high heels, with as much exposed leg as possible… I have a strong nylon leg and foot fetish and can never get enough spying time in public places!

I am in luck today, with two good-looking young women that sit at the table right in front of me. They are both wearing black tights and high-heel shoes. Their skirts are short, above-the-knee in fact and that gives me quite a show as they sit and cross a leg. The skirts rise even higher and if I was lucky enough, I am sure I could even get a glimpse of panty, should they ever open their thighs for a second or two!

I anticipate the moment when I notice one of the girls begins to dangle a heel from her toes. Gosh do I love to watch this kind of teasing action! I get hypnotized by the balancing shoe and always expect it to swing past the curled toes and end up bouncing on the tile floor… But the lady quickly uncrosses her leg and pushes her foot back inside the pump before starting to eat their meal.

I see another two secretaries sitting at the next table and they also wear tan nylon tights. But these two are busy talking to one another and their footwear seems to be tight fitting, preventing any accidental removal… The next twenty minutes are spent wishing at least one of them will pop a heel out of her court shoes, but I am not as lucky as I expected. All of the lovely girls keep their footwear on their feet while eating. Nonetheless, the sight of their shiny nylon legs crossing and dangling gives me a little tickling sensation in my half-erect penis.

I take a look at my watch and realize I don't have any more time. I must get under way if I don't want to be late for my appointment. So I gather my things and head towards the cashier to pay my bill. A few minutes later I am in my car, trying to beat the Friday afternoon traffic out of the big city.

Mrs. Dean's cottage is fairly far from the country road and I love the garden that surrounds the front of the property. The lady of the house is probably a seasoned gardener, unless she hires expert hands of course. But my intuition tells me that she is the one who does it all by herself. With a traveling husband, she must have time on her hands for such a hobby. I already feel good about her since I also have a passion for gardening…

I get out of the car and bring my attaché-case with me. I head slowly towards the front door inhaling the fresh country air and filling my lungs with perfumes that are not found in the big city! What a lovely feeling it is to fill one's lungs with such fresh air!

I use the heavy steel ring fitted in the middle of the door to knock three times. From the sound I am convinced that this door is quite heavy and solid! Less than ten seconds later, the door swings open. I did not hear any footsteps before the lock was turned and I get my answer when I notice that Mrs. Dean is walking in her stocking feet!

- You must be Mr. Bradford? She inquires.

- Indeed Mrs. Dean. I hope I am not late…

- Not at all! In fact you are right on time. It is twenty minutes to two according to the old faithful clock on my kitchen wall. Please come in.

- Thank you.

- If you don't mind, we will be sitting more comfortably in the den. I am not feeling especially well today and would prefer the soft leather cushions of the wick chairs instead of the hardwood seats around the dining room table. Will that be suitable to you?

- Well, yes of course…

I follow behind as the lovely lady walks silently before me. My eyes are riveted to her legs and feet, encased in the black nylon. The negligee she is wearing looks like a long black lace shirt showing an intricate pattern. I can pretty much see her bare skin underneath the garment; if it weren't for her black-feathered boa she is wearing around her neck, I would view her chest! My goodness, this lady is very provocatively dressed! And those lovely nylon feet gliding on the shiny wooden floor are quickly getting to my itching cock!

- Please be seated Mr. Bradford.

- Tom, I nervously reply. You can call me Tom madam.

- Very well Tom, she says sitting on the white wicker armchair. You may call me Demi, she adds while pulling her left leg under herself.

- Thank you Demi. This should not take long. I have a few questions to ask you regarding last year's income tax returns filed by yourself.

- Well Tom, I may not be able to answer you correctly, as my husband's accountant does those each year for me, she says smiling shyly.

- I see… Maybe I should have asked you a few questions over the phone beforehand then... I say in a voice that barely hides my discomfort.

- But I will try and answer you the best way I can.

I watch her bring her hands to her ankles while her lovely toes clench at the chair's cushion. She is wearing a ring on her second toe and the sight of this sliver band on her wiggling little shrimps makes my cock grow rapidly… I keep my attaché-case in front of me to try and keep my growing erection out of sight, but I am really embarrassed!

- Why won't you sit down Tom? Please make yourself comfortable and don't be shy to ask your questions. I am willing to try and answer them to the best of my knowledge.

I am speechless as I watch her toes clench and dig into the soft leather cushion she is sitting on. Her toes are like those of a ballet dancer standing on her points. She brings her hands in front of her chest, with her arms resting on her knees and her slim fingers rest on top of her other hand as she looks at me with questioning eyes…

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