(Part 3 of 6)
If I thought that love lessons meant we'd be constantly making love, I would have been disappointed. Mom, as I was accustomed to call my stepmother, explained that a lot of being a lover happened outside of the bedroom. I was expected to behave just as I did when I was a young person growing up in her house... to be agreeable, to clean up after myself and to help with the chores. Of course, I would have done that even without the promise of sex because that's the way she raised me.
"A man and woman are a team and need to provide for each other's needs," she told me. "He should help around the house not so she will have sex with him but because it's the right thing to do. Likewise, she should have sex with him not because he helps around the house but because that, too, is the right thing to do."
We did make love frequently, though. Friday night was date night when we would repeat our first encounter, up to a point, at least. We would spend some quality time, have an intimate dinner, then sit on the couch and read Hothouse magazines together. Once we were all worked up we would go at it like newlyweds. While we could get pretty creative on these evenings, we unfortunately stopped short of backdoor activities. She didn't offer after that one time and I still didn't have the courage to ask.
Saturdays she encouraged me to do things with my friends, which was cool. I would gladly have spent that time with her but she reminded me she wasn't really my girlfriend and I needed to keep up on my other relationships.
During the week I had a summer job to keep me busy and she had classes and workshops. Every once in a while she would surprise me by hopping into the shower while I was washing away the day. Every now and then a foot rub or a back scratch would turn into something more. And from time to time, one of us would leave an issue of Hothouse open to a certain page, indicating a letter to the editor that we wouldn't mind acting out.
At the start of one such game I was hiding in my Mom's closet. I was supposed to be an employee of her fictional husband and she was his trophy wife. The circumstances were pretty ridiculous, as was often the case in those Hothouse letters. But it was easy to put myself in the mindset of a lovesick virgin, desperate for a glimpse of a beautiful woman undressing.
Heidi looked like a different person when she came into her bedroom. Her wavy brown hair was swept up and held in place with a silver comb. She had stuffed her bra so she filled out her gown like Jane Russell. She wore heavy makeup and had jewelry at her ears and throat. She wore long formal gloves made from kid leather, as soft as butter.
She went to the vanity and watched herself tug off the gloves one at a time. She removed the comb from her hair and shook out her locks dramatically. Despite having enjoyed her striptease on several occasions, I could feel my desire for her growing as she went about her routine. She stretched her arms behind her back and began unzipping her gown.
From my vantage point I looked through the crack of the closet door, watching her from behind but able to see her face in the vanity's mirror. Though I was expecting it, I still felt surprised when her eyes snapped on me in the reflection. Her gown half-unzipped, she spun around on her heels and crossed the room before I could react. She flung open the closet door and confronted me.
"Spying on me, you little sneak?" She was actually pretty intimidating. "Did my husband put you up to this?"
"No, ma'am," I stammered, cowering before her. "I just..."
"You just thought you could have a private peep show." She grinned down at me maliciously. "Come on out, then, little sneak. Maybe we can both have a peep show. Unless you think my husband..."
She didn't have to finish the thought. She had me by the short hairs. I followed her to the bed and stood where she indicated. My fear wasn't entirely feigned and my excitement was off the chart. She turned her back to me and ordered me to finish unzipping her. The gown came off and underneath she was wearing old fashioned white bra and panties with nude-colored pantyhose. She went back to the vanity and picked up her gloves. While she tugged them back on she told me what to do.
"Now your turn. Take off your clothing, please, slowly. Show me what you have."
I unbuttoned my shirt and removed it. She pointed downward and I undid my belt and stepped out of my shoes, letting my pants fall to the floor.
"Not bad, not bad. Now your underwear, please, if you can get them over what's holding them up.
As often as I had undressed for her, it was frankly humiliating to stretch the waistband of my briefs over my hardon and stand there naked before her. She leered at me like a lecherous old man might ogle a waitress.
"Not bad, not bad," she said again, stepping close to me and reaching between us to grasp my stiff dick with her soft leather-clad fingers. "You understand, I'm a married woman. And you are a miserable little sneak. So of course I would not touch you with my bare hand. But I think you like the feel of my glove."
"Yes, ma'am," I gasped.
"You might even enjoy this if you do as you're told. If not, it could go bad for you. And I'm telling you not to come until I say you can come. Understood?"
"Yes, ma'am."
Now, I want you to remove my pantyhose. No, get down on your knees to do it. There. Is that what you wanted to see? Did you imagine you would be pulling off my nylons tonight? Smell them. Rub them all over your face. Now, put them on. No, not on me. Get up and put them on yourself."
I really was enjoying playing with her hosiery, still warm and fragrant from her body. I did not expect to enjoy putting them on nearly as much as I did. My dick was very stiff as I pulled the waistband over it. I was much bigger than her so the pantyhose fit very tightly and was starting to split. She gripped them at either side of the gusset and tore them open so my cock and balls spilled out.
"You must really like wearing women's pantyhose, little sneak."
One of her gloved hands was back on my cock and the other was on my shoulder, pushing me back onto the bed. She had me lie down with my hands by my sides and my dick in the air. She kneeled next to me and fondled my balls while she slowly stroked my shaft.
"Your penis is very hard right now. You must be enjoying this very much. I like to see a nice hard penis. I do hope you are able to do as you're told."
The soft leather was doing things to me but I was able to keep myself under control. I desperately wanted to put my arm around her, feel her delicious ass in the high-waisted satin panties she wore, squeeze her false boobs in the oversized matching bra.
"Maybe you are enjoying this too much. I wonder how many times I would have to do this before you would require the touch of nylon and kid leather in order to perform."
She was squeezing my balls with a fair amount of force by now. It hurt, but not bad enough for me to say so. The pace of her stroking had picked up as well and I shut my eyes so I could concentrate.
"Too bad I can't touch it with my bare hand. But you understand why not, of course. A miserable little sneak like you could not expect a married woman like me to soil her hands on you. But I think you will not complain."
