Run in your hose

“You’ve got a run.”

Mascara wand paused mid swipe, she glanced at him in the mirror. His eyes were on her ass encased in her control top hose.

“Fuck, I don’t have another pair to hold my tummy in.”

His eyebrows rose to his hairline. “No one is going to notice your stomach in that dress.”

“Everyone will notice.” She finished her mascara and recapped the lid. Her only other pair of hose were a pair of thigh high so no holding her gut in. “How bad is it?”

She pulled her lipstick out of her bag and started applying it as he stepped forward to touch her thigh. Glancing over her shoulder, she felt as well as saw his finger slide to mid thigh. Just where the hem of the dress fell.

Dropping the tube, she pinched the bridge of her nose. “Now what?”

“Let me help.”

His hand slid up to her mid back and he held her eyes as applied pressure. He pushed until she was bent over her vanity, palms flat on either side of her make up bag. Then his hands went to the seam between her thighs, pulling until the fabric gave.

“How does this help?”

She’d not bothered with underwear to have one less visible line, and he took advantage of that fact. He tapped her thigh until she parted her legs. The sound of his zipper lowering and the rustle of his trousers hitting the floor filled the room.

“How…” he pressed until her chest hovered just over her bag. “John?”

His name ended in a breathy sigh as he brushed his cock along her vulva, found the space he ripped open and her cunt, and then he was inside her. She melted around him.

One hand gripped her shoulder as he fucked her, pulling her back every time his thrust pushed her forward. Her thighs dug into the wooden edge and she reviled in the sensation. She was ready to go flying just from the abrupt roughness of it all.

“Don’t come.”

She moaned in protest as he came with a protracted groan, spurts of come filling her up. He’d shuddered as he pulled out of her, doing up his trousers. She stayed bent over the vanity as come leaked down her thigh.

“Let’s finish getting you dressed.” He pulled her up and slipped the dress over her head.

“How was that supposed to help?” She was humming with need and prepared to skip the party.

“You’ll think about my come drying on your thighs and me fucking you when we get home, and not the run in your hose.”

Masturbation Monday written on a purple background


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