Limp No More

For years, Roger was limp. It was a combination of things. Anti-depressants. Age. Chronically jacking off to cuckold and nylon themed porn. His wife certainly didn't help either. She was drop dead gorgeous. Always made up to perfection with raven black hair and perfectly sculpted tits. She knew about her husband's struggles but she didn't know whether to be sympathetic or disgusted. She hated porn. She saw it as a form of infidelity. It made her feel inadequate and insecure.

She also know about her husband's intense fetish for nylons. Perhaps she knew a little TOO much. He was obsessed with nylons. He bought them for her. He brought her a pair to wear practically every morning especially on work days. He washed them. He kept the ones with runs in them to jack off with, sometimes together, mostly alone. She actually enjoyed watching him jack off with her nylons. It certainly took the pressure off of her. Sadly, she wasn't a very involved lover anyway. It was almost as though she never learned how to be a sexual female lover.

In the beginning Roger could still attain a somewhat respectable boner, especially when his wife would blow him pretty regularly. Ah, those were the days. It just seemed to happen spontaneously but it hadn't for well over a decade and a half. Although she was almost 14 years his junior, her sex drive was not much more different than the urge to go the bathroom. She felt it occasionally but there was nothing pressing about it. Just another normal human physical activity.

She only knew vanilla sex. The little touch here and there and she expected to be mounted and humped enough times to bring her few past lovers to the point of shooting their wads and dismounting. Nothing naughty. Nothing nasty. Nothing taboo. All plain vanilla despite a bevy of potentially delicious variations and flavors.

Maybe it was being Catholic although Roger, who was also Catholic, knew Catholic women who fucked and played like whores and sluts and loved everything about sex. It must have been her attitude. Anything out of the ordinary was seemingly overwhelming and unfamiliar. It made her uncomfortable, even a bit jittery nervous.

Roger's insane fetish was the center of sex for him. Everything sexual revolved around nylons. Not just any kind of nylons. No. They had to be ultra sheer, silky, old school like. He used to be almost entirely focused on RHT stockings especially those made and sold by Albert's Hosiery. There was a time when an Albert's could be found in just about every mall in America. Their stores were as common as Victoria's Secret are today. They were nylon heaven offering every type of stocking and pantyhose known to mankind a the time. But Roger's absolute favorites were their ultra sheer stockings either with a reinforced heel and toe or what they called "barefoot" with no dark reinforcement which allowed pretty manicured and polished toes to be visible like a fetching bride behind her veil.

Albert's nylons are rare these days and when you can find them, their either in odd ball colors or short lengths fit for a dwarf. Even then, the asking price is astronomical. Roger couldn't understand for the life of him why they were in such demand now. Too bad the demand hadn't remained constant before the Albert's empire began to slowly crumble in the early 80's.

For sex to have any enjoyment whatsoever for Roger, nylons had to be present. If he jacked off, he'd use a pair of silky sheer nylons, a pattern that he started when he reached puberty. He was only interested in women who wore nylons - stockings or pantyhose would do although he despised those cheap d**gstore brands that felt like a pair of cotton socks. They had to be sheer. The sheerer, the better. He hated stretchy nylons. He preferred nylons that were flat boarded, shaped to a woman's leg and feet that did not stretch. Instead, they wrinkled at the ankles and knees when their feminine wearers moved ever so slightly.

Having a woman wear nylons for sex wasn't enough for Roger though. He had to experience them. He practically ingested them. He wanted to smell and taste them on her. He wanted to rub himself all over them. He loved to have a woman on her back in the missionary position with his erect cock deep in her slippery, wet pussy and receive her nylon clad feet together over his face, nose and lips. He wanted her to rub them together so he could hear the unmistakable hissing of high quality nylon. He craved being teased by her nylon clad extremities. He melted at the site of her pointed toes in the air while he thrust his turgid meat pole in her creamy silken lined fuck hole.

But that was then. Today was different. He was ensconced in a practically sexless married with a wonderful woman who he loved and who loved him. Their love making sessions were rare, infrequent and consisted of him jacking off with a pair of her worn nylons while she reveled in multiple orgasms brought on by "power tools" - an electric vibrator and a clear rose colored rabbit dildo with multiple speeds and motions. It was impersonal and unintimate. He felt distanced and neglected even though he enjoyed seeing her cum time and time again.

Roger's wife never used toys before she met him. In fact, she never ever masturbated. How unusual is that? He made the decision years ago to bring toys into the fold in an effort to heighten his wife's sexual experience and his. He needed to hear and see a woman being aroused, lost in pure sexual abandon. If she was aroused, he could cum much more easily.

Sadly, often times it seemed to take her forever. He would lie beside her, her nylons wrapped around his flaccid penis waiting for the arousal from the power tools to build. Sometimes he would nearly fall asleep waiting. There was no talking. He had tried that and she politely but hurtfully told him to shut up. She wasn't interested in anything vocal even though Roger was exactly the opposite. All his senses were involved in sex - sound, smell, taste, touch and seeing it - all congealed bring about powerful orgasms time and time again. She didn't understand any of this. Why would a couple want to talk while engaging in sex. That seemed as unusual as carrying on a conversation with someone while taking a dump. Who would want to?

She didn't get it. She especially didn't understand why Roger wanted to see her fucked by another man. It wasn't a cuckold fantasy in the true sense although some of his motivation was the humiliation and inadequacy he knew he would experience seeing a bigger and harder cock penetrating her tiny and tight pussy. Rather, his biggest thrill seeing his wife fucked by another man was self pride and her pleasure. He loved that other men ogled his wife who often dressed provocatively despite her repressed sexuality. How could a woman with such a vanilla sexual appetite dress so sexily? It didn't make sense. She even enjoyed the attention it brought on but she would never think, not even for an instant, to act upon it. Strange indeed.

As the years passed, Roger became more vocal about his cuckold fantasies. He only watched cuckold themed porn where the wife was wearing nylons while being ravaged by a huge male meat stick. He especially enjoyed seeing a husband holding and kissing his wife while she laid on her back with her legs spread, toes pointed, impaled on a steel like hard on until she came on it multiple times. The bull was a surrogate for him now, able to do what Roger himself could do at one time when he was in his prime. He just wanted his wife to experience what he was once capable of. He wanted to give her the ultimate in sexual pleasure. He wanted her to be satisfied but only for a while until she craved and demanded it again and again. He wanted her to be addicted to huge cocks. He wanted to see and hear her cumming uncontrollably on penis meat.

The day came when fantasy became reality. Roger and his wife planned a long overdue trip alone to Las Vegas. Although they were not big gamblers, they both enjoyed the energy and sexual tension of Sin City. Everyone was having fun in some way. It was an adult amusement park.

They booked a room at the Bellagio Hotel, their absolute favorite because of its refinement and class not to mention the eye popping art and breath taking water show which they could see from their 12th floor suite overlooking bejeweled and glittering Stripe. Roger loved coming here with his wife because she dressed even more provocatively than usual with lots of sexy skirts, flowing dresses and tight jeans all accompanied by either ultra sheer pantyhose or stockings underneath. If she wore pantyhose, she carefully removed the crotch gusset exposing her pussy making it easily accessible to either Roger or hopefully, another man's cock tip. Each sexy outfit was always complimented by the most revealing high heel sandals, either formal or less so. Whether she wore strappy wedges with her skinny jeans or 5 inch sexy sandals with a low cut dress, one could see her sexy feet and pedicured toes. Only the sharpest eyes though, would detect her nylons because they were always so sheer, sheer enough that you could still see the texture of her smooth skin and the slightest glow of an occasional blue vein. Was she or wasn't she wearing hosiery.

After enjoying an excellent romantic dinner at one of the hotels upscale restaurants, Roger and his wife decided to cross the street to the Paris Hotel. There was a piano bar there which also featured a cigar lounge. Besides nylons and porn, Roger's other vices included premium handmade cigars with a snifter of fine cognac with his gorgeous, sexy wife at his side. He enjoyed looking at her nylon clad feet and toes framed by her sexy selection of high heels that adorned her eye catching feet.

She was dressed casually this evening, their first after arriving in town. They strolled casually along the fake Parisian streets in route to Napoleon's Lounge. Roger smiled to himself watching men AND women checking out his sexy wife. He especially reveled in catching men's eye's scanning his wife from head to toe, stopping at her feet unable to look away until they passed. Did they have a fetish for nylons and high heels too or did they just enjoy seeing a sexy woman dressed femininely among the throngs of shorts, bare legs, flip flops and running shoes. Either way, it turned Roger on thinking another man was attracted to HIS wife and that they couldn't have her unless he offered her to them.

They finally arrived at Napoleon's. It was early by LV standards so it wasn't crowded. When they entered the cigar room, it was empty. They selected a table in the middle of the room with a view toward the piano bar visible through the floor to ceiling windows that separated the lounge from it. Roger was about to light a cigar when the bar maid arrived to take their order for a couple of cognacs. After he lite his cigar, he noticed there wasn't an ashtray on their table but he saw one behind his wife which he promptly got up to retrieve. Within a minute or two, a pleasant looking older gentlemen came into the room and sat down at the table where Roger retrieved the ashtray from. Before he could offer to return it, the same cocktail waitress arrived to greet him. She took his order, left and returned almost immediately with the couples' drinks which she placed on the table saying that these are complements of that gentleman seated over there.

Roger looked upon the man, raised his glass toward him with a smile and said thank you. As he began to apologize for taking the ashtray from his table, the gentleman was quick to inform them that he didn't want to disturb them but within the next quarter of an hour, the cigar room would be filled with upwards of a 100 people who were part of a wedding celebration he was associated with. The three of them continued to converse which led Roger and his wife to learn that the gentlemen was a close friend of the father of the groom. It was obvious that he was quite well off judging from his clothing and demeanor.

The gentleman was concerned that the arrival of the wedding party would disrupt an enjoyable romantic evening so he invited Roger and his wife to join the party so to speak, and join it they did. Just like clockwork, within 15 minutes of meeting the cordial gentlemen, people began arriving in droves. Quickly, the cigar room went from peaceful quiet to electric party time. Introductions were fast and furious as a group of the groom's best buds arrived together. With no place left to sit, they pulled up chairs around the table originally claimed by Roger and his wife. Just like that, the couple went from being alone to being surrounded by young, attractive and powerful males rendering Roger's wife the only female around the table. These young bucks were obviously in the mood to party and they had already started well before they arrived.

They were young high rollers from Chicago all financially successful in their own right. Roger began to feel a tad intimidated by their success even though he and his wife enjoyed a relatively modest standard of living form his years of practicing law and his wife's continued employment as a nurse. The young men were very friendly mostly because they were already slightly lit up but they were confident, experienced businessmen who knew partied as hard as they worked. They worked hard and smart to earn what they had and they spend high and carelessly to enjoy some time to decompress.

Roger was particularly thrilled to be joined by a group of young men who enjoyed fine cigars as much as him. That is why they chose the cigar room - to sample fine cigars with spirits and friends. One of them, a young Italian looking fellow named Anthony, brought along a large portable herfador filled to the brim. In the course of conversation, Roger learned that Anthony and his entourage had recently returned from a trip to the Caribbean where he stocked up on Cuban handmades and somehow managed to get back into the states.