Story of a Leg Man, Part One
This story was inspired by one of my callers on Niteflirt. As I wrote it, I realized how long it was going to be, so I’ve just published the first part for today. Y’all will have to wait for the next installment when I post next time. Of course if you can’t wait, you can always call me on Niteflirt 
Story of a Leg Man
I’ve always been a leg man.
Especially when those legs are a bit curvy, and have nylons on.
Nylons. What a beautiful, old-fashioned word. To me, the very word conjures up a film noir movie, with the female fatale in very red lipstick, a stylized hairdo, padded shoulders, and of course, nylons.
Black nylons with a seam running down the back, and a knitted heel and toe. A knitted toe that partially obscures red painted toenails, as red as her lips and her fingernails.
I love everything about women. I love the way they walk in heels, the way they cross their luscious legs, the way they smell, the way they purse their lips. But especially I love their lingerie. Nylons, panties, bras.
I am the owner of a small business. Unlike many men, I do truly like women, and I think they know that instinctively. I love to look at my female employees, but have never gone any farther.
I hired an especially gorgeous lady about three months ago. She is about 5′7″, maybe 125, 130. Nice tits and ass, but oooh those legs! No pants for her. A dress every day.
Sometimes she would wear a business suit with a short skirt. Sometimes she would wear a silk wrap-around dress that hugged her tiny waist, and show the outline of her garter belt on her thighs. I especially loved to see her bend over in that one.
Sometimes she would wear an A-line skirt that was almost skin tight. The skirt itself went to below her knees, but was slit up the front and back almost up to the top of her nylons. And then she would cross her legs in that skirt. You could see the top of her hose then, as well as a bit of soft white thigh, if you were lucky. Along with this she would wear a white silk blouse, that you could see her white lace pushup demi bra underneath. The bra would be cut down to her nipples almost. I began to turn the heat down quite low, just so it would be chilly and those nipples would stick out.
Within a month’s time, I had promoted her to my personal administrative assistant. Tongues were wagging, but I didn’t care.
She would always wear her clothing in a certain sequence, on certain days, and I soon realized that Thursday was the day that she always wore her slit A-line skirt. I decided it was high time that I institute a weekly scheduled meeting with my assistant in my office to touch base. On Thursdays of course.
Every week, my cock would already be slightly tumescent with excitement even before our meetings. And it would go up another notch as soon as she came in, sat down and crossed her legs.
I always had her sit beside me, behind our desk, rather than across from it, so we could “put our heads together.” Haha. That’s not what the body parts I actually fantasized about putting together.
Once seated, she would cross those luscious legs, and always the left over the right. That way I got a good look at her left inner thigh as that slit would rise higher and higher. She would dangle her high heeled pump on her toes, as her pump heel would almost hit the floor. The curve of her leg, the site of her knitted Cuban heel as her shoe dropped down nearly drove me insane. As soon as I saw the arch of her foot, I always thought about running my tongue there. And not stopping…
I literally had to white-knuckle my hands onto the chair arms to keep from touching my tingling, oozing cock.
And then she would jiggle that foot. And as she jiggled, her pump would start to jiggle off. I would see first a bit of knitted toe, then her piggie with its painted red toenail. And as she jiggled, each plump white toe would reveal itself a little at a time, up to the tonail, peeping through the black knitted toe, as the shoe would slide off that toe. And then on to the next one, till finally, her shoe was dangling by her big toe alone, still jiggling. How she managed to keep that shoe on and her big toe hidden, I have no idea, but I was grateful. If that shoe had fallen to the floor and revealed her entire foot, I probably would have cum all over myself.
Today started out no different. I was pretending to work at my computer as she came in. I could hear her pumps clicking on the floor. And then the soft slithering sounds of her legs as she sat down and crossed her legs. And of course let her shoe dangle.
Today would have been no different from the rest I think, except that I simply could not concentrate. All I could think of was licking, licking, touching, holding, smelling. Starting at her toes and working my way up.
“Mr. Jones, are you ok?” she asked, a slight smirk on her face.
I know she knew what I was thinking. Women like that always do.
I barely sputtered out the words “Ummm yes, of course, Ms. Wilson. I’m fine. Let’s get onto those reports, shall we?” But then my mind went blank. What reports? What business? All I could think of was leg, heel, toes, leg, lick, pussy, cock. Throbbing cock.
And then it happened. No she didn’t drop her shoe. Instead she carefully uncrossed her leg, and slipping her foot out of her shoe, put her nyloned foot up to the inside of my knee. Just touching her toes to the inside of my thigh, she slowly, ever so slowly, began to move up my thigh….
“Yes, Mr. Jones?”
(To be continued…)
