I checked my costume in the mirror one last time, and then turned to my friend Jeremy, who was putting on one of the newest additions to his costume that year – a flat cap adorned with a bright red feather.
While we’d both been to the Ren Faire every day that week, those visits had all been after our last lecture at community college, and there was no time to dress. With the weekend upon us, we finally had the opportunity to wear proper attire.
We were both costumed as reasonably well-to-do men of the proper period – doublets, hose, and jerkins. We’d received compliments from the actors at the Faire every year, and we expected the same would hold true this year.
Of course, not everyone who came to the Faire dressed in period-appropriate attire. That was the reason for a new addition both of us had added to our costumes – codpieces. Not only were they appropriate for men of our purported station, they served a far more practical purpose.
A couple of decades before, a tradition had somehow gotten started at one of the local colleges. Coeds had started dressing in costumes with ridiculously low necklines that were really more Victorian than Renaissance, and going to the Faire with tits on display. Men had naturally followed. With young, available men in attendance, even more women had turned out, showing off their tits. By the second year of the tradition, it had grown exponentially.
The story goes that the town and the sponsors of the Ren Faire were scandalized by it, and tried to put a stop to it that second year – until they realized how much the attendance was increasing. The small town was reaping the benefits of it as well. With so much money flowing in, everyone had swallowed their pride.
It had only grown since, with women from miles around streaming in each year. Attendance at the Ren Faire was four times what it was at any other stop. Our small town essentially made the traveling troupe profitable, and the spending of attendees likewise provided an indispensable source of revenue to our small town.
They did their best to forget that most people called the event Titty Fest rather than Ren Faire. The bars ran with the more vulgar version, and promoted it heavily.
Having switched from peasant trousers to wealthier hose the year before, we’d discovered that hose and boners were an embarrassing combination.
Thus, the codpieces.
Jeremy and I were nerds, so we enjoyed the Faire as it was meant to be. There was no denying that we were extra excited about the titty parade that happened on the weekend, though. Being who we were, it was the only real tits either of us were likely to see any time in the near future.
As we left his room and headed for the car, I had to bite my tongue. Jeremy’s aunt was in town for a school reunion, and she was sitting at the kitchen table when we walked through. She was unbelievably hot anyway, but she was dressed in a tight skirt that was well above her knees, a button-down shirt that strained to keep her tits in, and an open vest that did little to hide them.
She glanced our way when she heard us and broke out into a crooked, knowing smile. She briefly chuckled and said, “Codpieces. Probably a good idea.”
Jeremy’s mom groaned and dropped her head into her hand. Jeremy muttered, “Jesus, Aunt Teresa.”
I just prayed that my burning face wouldn’t set my costume on fire.
“Have fun boys. Try not to have a heart attack,” she called after us as we went out the back door to Jeremy’s car.
There was no need to discuss it. We both pretended it never happened, and sat in silence in the car until we drew nearer to the Faire. Anticipation perked us both up as we turned in – and it didn’t go unrewarded.
****
The day had been everything we’d fantasized about. It seemed that every year, the period-inaccurate women’s costumes got more daring, and that tradition had held true as well. One woman who we guess was in her late twenties with huge tits spent hours walking around in a dress with stiff slats in the bosom holding them up, and her nipples only marginally hidden behind some frilly lace.
The organizers and even the cops on patrol had just shrugged and ignored her walking around with her essentially bare breasts jiggling for everyone’s enjoyment. She had a gaggle of men following her around paying for and carrying anything she wanted the whole time.
Jeremy had even more to celebrate. While I was off to the porta-potties hidden behind a wooden facade labeled privies, he’d met a girl in proper period dress whom we’d never seen before. She’d recently moved to a town about ten minutes away, and they’d hit it off. She was way out of what either of us would have considered our league, but she was genuinely into the Ren Faire, and meeting someone else who also was amidst the scandalous – but stupendous – perversion of it had broken down those barriers.
I was happy for him, but also jealous. If only it had been him who had to take a piss right that moment, so I was the first one she met...
The Mountain Dew I had been guzzling did what it does, mirroring my earlier, unlucky twist of fate. So, I headed for the bathroom not long after we got to his place that night. I lived in the boondocks outside of town, so I stayed with him during the Faire to be closer.
My eyes went wide when I walked into the bathroom. There, hanging from the shower curtain rod were the black stockings Jeremy’s aunt had been wearing that day. I blindly closed the door behind me, twisted the lock, and walked straight to them.
There was no resisting it, so I reached out to run my fingers over the slippery, satiny nylon. Then I gently pinched the material between my fingers and rubbed. It was probably my imagination, but they even felt warm – as if she’d just taken them off seconds before.
I was instantly as hard as a rock as I fantasized about her standing in the same room in underwear of the same color, peeling off those sexy black stockings. Next, she reached behind her to unclasp her bra...
I didn’t get much farther than that, because my bladder pointedly reminded me that I was there for a reason, and I’d already been holding it for a while. I had to hold it even longer while I tried to talk my boner down. Eventually, closing my eyes and running some water in the sink got me over the hump.
But I couldn’t stop thinking about those stockings.
My buddy took some cold meds to knock him out early, because he was meeting the new girl as soon as the Faire opened the next morning. The Dew was still coursing through my veins, so I was left on the couch in the dark, scrolling through the numerous clandestine pictures I’d taken of the hot girls that day.
At some point, I did doze off, though. I started awake from a dream that I could remember was a sex dream about Jeremy’s aunt, but not much else beyond her stockings featuring prominently. I was once again sporting wood that made even my boxers feel too tight. I unlocked my phone and saw that it was a few minutes after three.
The house was quiet. I’d been to the bathroom once more before nodding off, and those stockings were still hanging right where I’d first found them. It was as if they were calling to me.
Carefully – quietly – I slipped off the couch. My heart was racing as I opened the door. The hinges made the barest, briefest creak, but to me it sounded like an alarm going off.
The house was dark save for a small nightlight illuminating the bathroom door. Not a creature was stirring.
I crept to the bathroom – thankful for the carpeted floor. The door opened in merciful silence. I put my finger on the light switch, pulled the door shut behind me, and then turned on the light.
There they were – my black nylon obsessions.
I twisted the lock on the door. My raging hormones and my raging hardon were in complete control at that point. I crossed the floor, gave those black beauties a little tug, and let them pool in my hands. The next stop was the toilet, where my boxers easily yielded to a one-handed push, and I sat down, ready for a tug of my own.
My eyes rolled up in my head when I cupped my balls in a hand filled with silky nylon. It felt incredible against the sensitive skin, and made my dick throb hard. On a whim, I held the other stocking with the toe dangling loose, and let it rub over my hardon with nothing but its own weight. The airy, satiny touch nearly made me groan. I had to tighten my throat to stop it from coming out.
After a few feather-light caresses from the dangling stocking, I let it settle onto my dick, gathered the nylon around it, and closed my hand in a gentle grip. That first stroke of slippery nylon was unforgettable.
The next few strokes were no less amazing, but my dick was screaming for more, so I tightened my grip and got down to business.
Pretty much immediately, a fantasy formed in my head of Jeremy’s aunt sitting opposite me on a bed wearing nothing but a lacy pair of black panties and the stockings that were wrapped around my boner. In my head, it was her feet in those nylons jerking me off. Her big tits jiggled, and she was rubbing her pussy through her wet panties.
It got me going, to say the least. Every ounce of my brain power was devoted to breathing life into that fantasy. I didn’t give the slightest thought to the dire consequences of getting cum on those stockings when I went off, which wasn’t going to be long at the rate I was going.
I was well on my way when the air pressure in the room suddenly changed. The vision of Jeremy’s aunt evaporated in an instant, and was replaced by the real thing when my eyes snapped open. She was standing in the bathroom door with wide eyes, wearing a fuzzy pink robe and comically large, hot-pink curlers in her hair. She gasped quietly, and brought a hand to her mouth.
In a panic, I tossed the stockings on the floor and grabbed my boxers to yank them up. Or at least I thought I’d tossed both her stockings on the floor. The ones I’d had cupped my balls with had landed in my boxers, so I ended up having to push them back down, extract the nylon, and yank them up again.
I knew it was all futile. She’d walked in on me mid-stroke. There was no missing it. I was frozen with shame, sitting on the toilet, looking down and away from her. Once again, I felt the air pressure change as she closed the door. Then I heard the faint click of the lock, and the sound of her doing something that I hadn’t done – twisting the knob to make sure it was locked.
I could see her moving in my peripheral vision, but I couldn’t say or do anything. As if there was anything I could have that would have mattered. The next thing I know, she’s moving into my field of view and squatting down to pick up her stocking.
That’s when I realized she’d untied her robe, and the only thing she was wearing underneath it was a pair of lacy black panties. The robe wasn’t completely open, so I only got tantalizing glimpses of her nipples as she picked up her stockings, but the sight of those big, bared globes was more than enough to draw my eyes like a magnet. I followed them as she stood.
Her arm passed in front of her tits, and it was enough to cause my gaze to flicker upward. She had a sultry, crooked grin on her face. A finger pressed momentarily to her lips demanded silence. That finger then slid down the part of her robe, and tugged one side away, fully unveiling one of those big, beautiful tits.
Needless to say, that got my attention.
I continued to stare at the parting of her robe – from the swell of her tits down to her barely covered pussy – as she grabbed a towel off the rack. My heart went into overdrive when she dropped the folded towel next to the toilet, and knelt down on it.
Still grinning in the sexiest way, she plucked at the waistband of my boxers with one finger, caught my eye, and lifted her eyebrows. When I didn’t immediately react, she rolled her eyes, glanced at my underwear, and nodded at an angle toward my feet. I hesitantly hooked my thumbs underneath the waistband, and she nodded.
I pushed them down, but I’d gone completely limp out of shock and shame. She separated her stockings, cupped one in her left hand and slipped it beneath my balls. My prick immediately twitched with life. It started rising fast when she did exactly what I’d done in the beginning and let the other stocking dangle over my dick to caress it.
She was biting her bottom lip while watching my dick get hard. Once it was bouncing at full erection, she glanced at me and licked her lips.
She draped both stockings around the back of my neck, and then pushed on my chest. I leaned back against the tank at her urging, and that’s when she curled a finger and thumb around the root. She stood it straight up, admired it with a shiver, and then cut her eyes toward me.
A moment later, she let my dick go, but it was to shrug off her robe. Finally, I got to see both of those big, incredible tits in all their glory. She squeezed them together, jiggled them for a moment, and then released them in favor of curling her fingers around my throbbing shaft.
I didn’t quite stop the quiet grunt of pleasure that her soft, squeezing hand had summoned up. That hand immediately relaxed and she snapped a finger to her lips while fixing me with a warning stare. Her eyes remained on me when she tightened her grip again, but I’d been properly chastised. Truthfully, I didn’t want anyone hearing me any more than she did.
She started out slow, her hand rising and falling in a smooth motion, sliding the skin over the hard core. The fingers of her other hand slipped beneath my balls to gently roll and caress them. It was the first time having hands other than my own touching me, so needless to say, it was absolutely amazing.
Her gaze softened when I stayed quiet for a few strokes, and a smile curled her lips. She stroked a little faster, and her expression looked approving when I was able to silently handle that as well.
Over the next few seconds, she steadily ramped up the speed while I kept my teeth and throat muscles clenched. After a minute or so she was jacking me at a furious pace. Though I writhed a little and my hips lifted toward her hand, I held back the sounds desperately trying to escape me.
My eyes were drawn to those big tits. They were quivering and swaying slightly from the motion of her hand. Though my grunt hadn’t been any louder, she was apparently unconcerned by the faint rasping sound or the fap of her fingers thrumming the ridge below the head.
I know how to crank one out in a hurry, but she was easily matching my best time ever. The closer I got to an explosion, the harder it was to stay quiet. I’d more or less mastered that going solo, but it was a whole different world with a mostly naked, hot woman doing it for me. The wicked itch spread rapidly from her experienced hands.
As I neared the point of no return, a moment of panic hit me. I didn’t know whether I should whisper something to warn her, or perhaps make some kind of hand signal. It was all wasted worry, though.
All of the sudden, she leaned in, wrapped her lips around the head of my dick, and started sucking. Her hand kept going full-tilt. It only took a second of that before I jerked and erupted in a blast of cum more powerful than anything I could have ever imagined.
Her hand slowed as I filled her mouth with jizz, but her lips didn’t let up. She continued to suck, flick her tongue on the ridge, and nuzzle me with her lips as jet after jet of cum surged into her mouth. I honestly have no idea how I stayed silent as I bucked and throbbed in her mouth. She took it all in stride, draining me dry.
She didn’t stop there.
Even once I had nothing left to give, she kept sucking. I went from experiencing the most intense pleasure I’d ever felt in my life to being almost instantaneously wracked by acute sensitivity. I lifted a weak and trembling hand to try to push on her shoulder. While that had little effect, the quiet, high-pitched grunt that escaped me at the same time did the trick.
I gasped when she let me slip from her lips. She moved one knee toward me, and lifted my chin, which had slammed into my chest when she stopped sucking. I looked up and opened my eyes to see her with her mouth open, showing off a pool of cum still there.
That set off a violent jerking spasm in me. Then she closed her mouth, swallowed theatrically, and opened it again. She wiggled her tongue around to demonstrate that she’d swallowed every drop, and finally uncurled her fingers from around my dick.
I drew in a long, shuddering gasp, and let my eyes drift closed again.
I only had a few seconds of reprieve. I felt her hot breath on my ear and cheek, and her big tits brushing against my bare skin when she whispered, “Sorry, but I really need to pee.”
That was easier said than done. I felt like a boneless mass of jelly that no signal from my brain could reach. A tug on my shoulder encouraged me to try, but my first attempt was pretty feeble and made me shudder.
So, she switched tactics.
My brain came back online in a hurry when she lifted my hand to one of her big tits. I instantly squeezed, and I could feel her stiff nipple poking me. I only had a second to enjoy it, because she pulled away and nodded for me to get up.
I managed to sit up, and even had the presence of mind to pull my boxers up to keep them from entangling my legs. After a surge of effort, I gained my feet, only to discover that my legs were still wobbling. I braced an arm against the wall, but she almost immediately pushed on my butt, forcing me to engage my untrustworthy legs again.
She apparently wasn’t kidding about needing to pee, because as soon as I was far enough out of the way, she lifted the lid, turned around, and dropped her panties to her knees without an ounce of shame. I only got to see it for a second before she sat down, but her pussy was completely shaved.
Jeremy’s aunt shivered as the tinkling sound of her pee hitting the porcelain broke the silence. Pissing isn’t anything that appeals to me, but there was something hot about her sitting there naked, with her panties stretched between her knees.
My sensitive dick – which had already protested me pulling up my boxers – sent another white-hot jolt of punishment up my spine.
Once the sound of the last few drops of pee faded away, she grabbed a couple of squares of toilet paper. Before wiping, she pointed at her neck, indicating where her stockings were still draped around mine, and then at the shower curtain rod.
My legs weren’t much stronger than they had been when I first got up, but I made it to the tub and draped her stockings over the rod, more or less where I’d found them. She flushed, but then winced at the loud rush of water echoing in the small room. Then she stood, but instead of pulling her panties up as she rose, she left them where they were.
She turned to face me, used two fingers to spread her pussy lips, and gave me a quick peek before pulling her panties up. It was all business after that. She grabbed the towel she’d been kneeling on and tossed it in a hamper. Next, she grabbed her robe and pulled it back on, but didn’t tie it.
I got one last, good look at her body through the gap in the robe. She interposed a hand between us and made a lifting gesture. When I tore my eyes away from her tits and panties, she lifted her eyebrows and brought a finger to her lips. After a moment, she slowly nodded.
I assumed she meant to not say a word, so I answered with a sad nod. She smiled as her hands moved to the ties of her robe. She quickly tied them into a bow, hiding her body, and then she was gone.
It took me a couple more minutes to leave the bathroom as well. I slept like a baby the rest of the night, and my dreams were fueled by newly made memories – not fantasy – for the first time.
