It's a fantasy

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It's a fantasy

Postby savethespandex » Wed Apr 04, 2012 12:31 pm

The start of a beautiful friendship (with deference to Humphrey Bogart) …

Annie and I stumbled into each other while on one of our lunch breaks. We nervously introduced each other, smiled and chatted briefly. Somehow from all this we became acquaintances, to the point of getting each other’s phone and work numbers .

We started to get together regularly for lunch. Annie then persuaded me to start taking walks during the lunch hour, the better to save a couple clams and to get away from the prying eyes of the other customers.

Honestly, I’m thinking is nothing more than the start of a beautiful friendship.

Annie develops a growing attraction toward me; and I feel much the same way about her. We get away from the somewhat obligatory small talk about the weather, our friends at work and the nearest NFL team and our conversations drift toward more personal – and sensual – matters.

It is during one of our lunchtime walks that we admit liking lycra/spandex. You know, one of those subjects that you don’t broadcast among your peers at the workplace.

Already knowing each other’s phone numbers and addresses, Annie and I decide during one of our lunchtime walks to get together sometime next week – and not to see a movie or take in a dance.

Annie arrives at my upstairs apartment on a humid evening in her usual garb, although her purse looks to be a little more packed than normal. Before I could blurt out my question she abruptly says, “Shhh!” putting her hand over my mouth while we hug each other.

I walk Annie inside, we kiss each other some more and we adjourn to the bedroom. An admittedly poorly ventilated portion of the apartment, the bedroom provides the perfect forum for Annie and me to act – and dress – out our lycra lust.

We sit at the edge of the bed, knowing what we want and have gotten together for but not sure how we will achieve that end in a fashion that would not upset the neighbors or get them to call the police. First things first: I close the bedroom drapes. Second thing: romantic music on the CD player that comes as part of my laptop computer. Third thing third: I lock all possible means of entry from the outside.

In other words, I lock the doors.

After discussing how our days went, we decide that now is as good a time as any. I produce two plain black speedskating outfits, complete with coverings around the wrist and thumb and hoods at the top. Even though they are supposed to be form-fitting, Annie finds that the unitard she’s wearing fits her just fine. Mine, too, is a good fit. We’re off and running .

Annie pulls from her suddenly bulky purse a pair of 1970’s style go-go boots, with laces that extend from the ankle to the top just below the knee. Annie comes prepared for she has come to know what I like. I make her aware of my great pleasure in most certain terms.

We apply our needed protection, and then make like contortionists as we don our speedskating tights. Annie pulls on her go-go boots, accelerating desire that is so great that is already is off the charts .

Also at my side are a Masque that I usually wear while cross-country skiing and a white balaclava whose opening is sewn at the center to suggest eyeholes on either side (also worn while I ski). Annie wears the Masque while I put on the white balaclava . Once we pull the lycra/spandex hoods over the top of our heads, I accessorize the outfits with Bugz ski goggles.

We giggle nervously as we begin to touch and feel each other, continually aroused by the lycra/spandex texture. We draw closer to each other, and start rubbing our thighs against each others’ before collapsing onto the top of the wide-sized bed.

Time out! I go into another room and get a bottle of cold water. “Aaargh!” Annie shrieks as I squirt the water over her torso. Already, the fear that we might upset the neighbors crosses our minds.

Meanwhile, Annie’s breasts start to swell as the cold water causes them to expand. Her nipples, in particular, become hard and start to show beneath the tight-fitting spandex skating unitard.

We go back to the top of the bed and to touching each other, our desires increasing with every touch. “I want you!” Annie grunts as we fondle each other and slide our hands over each other’s full-fitting tights.

After, oh, 20 or so minutes we decide the foreplay has taken us to where we want to be. We slowly get up on our knees atop the bed and start to peel the clothes off each other. We begin with the goggles. We stare for a minute or two, knowing that the only body parts visible are our feet at the bottom of the stirrup tights and our longing and glazing eyes.

We peel the hoods off the top of our heads and go to work on our masks. I fumble sheepishly around the back of Annie’s head while trying to undo her Masque. She has much less difficulty removing the balaclava from my face and head.

We slowly peel the speedskating unitards to our waists and come upon a decision: Does Annie keep her boots on? Make no mistake; the go-go boots enhance the outfit. But knowing our playing footsie might be just a bit one-sided were she to keep the boots on, we agree that they should be removed.

With the boots off, we strip off each other’s tights and begin intercourse. “Yes! Yes! Yes ” Annie says in a tone that she tries to hush, the better to avoid upsetting the neighbors. As for me, I feel as if an entire person has escaped my body. No matter who was on top, Annie and I are experiencing a feeling that is like no other imaginable.

We stay into each other for another 20 minutes or so. Then we slowly arise and start to chat. Annie says she really liked it and adds that she is glad she came. I affirm my enjoyment and my pleasure that we got together.

Annie and I talk a little bit more, and then we start to slowly and softly kiss each other. We become aroused again.

Decision time: Do we put the tights and incognito accessories back on? We already are so aroused that we decide, “Nah!” We switch positions and reengage in sexual intercourse.

How long does it take? An hour? Hour and a half? Who cares? What matters is we helped each other attain immense satisfaction because of our affinity for lycra/spandex.

“When will I see you again?” Annie asks, her eyes glazing in already longing fashion. “Very soon,” I assure her. We agree to get together over the phone and decide what we will do for the weekend.

We might go to dinner, we might catch a movie. We might do neither. But whatever we do could lead us back to the ovenlike bedroom where our lust for lycra/spandex has manifested itself.

A guy (and girl) can always hope.

To be continued …?

You're damned right I'd rather see women wear tights! Does anyone have a problem with that?
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Re: It's a fantasy

Postby joshuadiver » Wed Jun 26, 2013 9:27 pm

Yes continue :)
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