The Door to Door Stocking Salesman

Brian heard the bedroom door open and the click his Aunty Betty's high heels as she approached the bed. Then he felt the bed sag when she sat down on the edge of bed and the whisper of her nylons as Aunty Betty crossed her legs.

"Brian?" she whispered tentatively.

"Go away!" he cried from under the blankets.

"Brian; I'm sorry sweetie," his Aunty Betty cooed.

"Why are you sorry? You didn't do anything wrong; I did!" he sniffled.

"Well honey I've been watching you watching me and I knew that you had a thing for stockings because your mother told me; so I shouldn't have teased and tempted you," Aunty Betty said.

"You knew?" Brian moaned, "Now I'm even more embarrassed."

"Never mind honey; let me make it up to you just this once and then we'll never talk about it again ok?" she said.

"What do you mean; make it up to me?" Brian asked inquisitively lifting his head outside of the blankets.

"Best I just show you sweetie; I used to do this for you uncle sometimes," his aunt smiled mischievously.

To Brian's amazement his Aunty Betty pulled down the blankets down to his groin and exposed his naked body. She looked at his engorged penis and smiled.

"Lovely," she said; almost to herself.

Then she did something that Brian would never forget for the rest of his life. She took a silk stocking out of her pocket and placed the warm diaphanous garment over Brian's now rampant penis.

"Oh Auntie!" he groaned.

She tentatively took hold of Brian's cock and he closed his eyes in pleasure and tilted his head back.

"Look at it Brian," Aunty Betty whispered.

Then he opened his eyes and watched as her red nailpolished fingers slid along Brian's silken encased member and slowly stroked his cock. She gripped him tighter, pulling his foreskin up over the purple glans, then back down to expose it in the dim light of the reading lamp. Then she moved her hand ever so slightly faster, sliding up and down the skin of Brian's cock. She twirled her hand back and forth over the taught stocking, slightly at first and then in greater degrees, as she slowly masturbated her nephew. Brian's hips moved to an involuntarily in tempo with his auntie's ministrations as Betty tightly stroked his penis.

"Oh Auntie; this so naughty, but it's so lovely," Brian moaned.

"Shhh honey, just enjoy it; it's only ever happening this once," she said.

Brian could feel his orgasm approaching quickly and he become bolder and took his enjoyment one step further. He reached out and grabbed his auntie's nyloned thigh and slid his hands up and down her ultra sheer stockings. Her nylons were smooth and slick above her knees and thighs because of the garters pulling the stocking tops so taunt. He got to her stocking tops, and stroked the dark shiny bands of the welts and then felt across the garter tabs hooked to the nylon and up the length of one of the garter straps. His hand slid off the garter strap and stroked her smooth, soft, bare skin just under her knickers. Then his hand brushed against his auntie's nylon knickers.

Aunty Betty gently eased Brian's hand away from her knickers and placed it back on her stockinged thigh.

"No higher up my leg than there Brian, you naughty boy," she instructed him.

Betty's hand was sliding up and down her nephew's silk stocking encased penis. Brian was in heaven just to be holding and feeling her beautiful stocking legs. He moaned and gasped at the feel of his sensitive glans being caressed by her silk stocking as his auntie rubbed his cock slowly up and down and he stroked her nylon encased legs.

Brian looked down at his stocking sheathed penis and saw that the silk around his glans was soaked with pre-seminal fluid. He felt his orgasm erupt through his body; the most intense orgasm he had ever felt. His whole body shuddered and his penis quivered as Aunty Betty, sensing her nephew's climax, gripped his manhood and rapidly pumped it. A glob of milky white semen extruded through the silk stocking; this quickly became a flood as Brian spurted jet after jet of hot seed, it ran down his silken encased shaft and onto his auntie's fingers. She continued to vigorously stroke his shaft, squeezing and milking him until his orgasm subsided.

Brian lay there gasping, his erection slowly subsiding, the stocking flooded with semen wrinkled around his cock. His Aunty Betty removed the semen splattered stocking from his cock and wiped him clean and then pulled up the covers.

"Ok Brian; you've had your reward for apologising for what you did earlier; but this is the last time this is ever going to happen," Betty said quite sternly.

"We will never talk about this ever again and I think I will no longer need you to stay over on the weekends ok?" she said.

Brian nodded and watched as his auntie stood up, adjusted her skirt, and then clattered out of the room on her high heels.

And they never did. Brian never bought up what had happened that evening and neither did his auntie. They sometimes exchanged knowing glances, especially if Aunty Betty caught Brain looking at a woman's legs, and his mother gave him one of her knowingly quizzical looks when he told her he wouldn't be staying at his auntie's on the weekends any longer; but the incident was never spoken of.

Of course Brian replayed the incident over and over in his head and it was his favourite masturbation fantasy. The incident reinforced his nylons fetish and eventually led him to marrying his wife who wore hosiery every day and dressed very similar to his auntie. His auntie had even given him a knowing smirk as stood at the altar on his wedding day.

But that was all ancient history; he was now a lowly door to door hosiery salesman doing the rounds of the suburbs of Birmingham.

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Mike planned to have Tuesday afternoon free from the drudgery of books and accounting and to dress as Michele and have some girly fun. He washed himself and shaved very closely. Then he began to make preparations for the transformation. He took two old laddered and unwearable stockings and filled them with rice doubling and tripling the stockings over on themselves and then tied and cut them off to make himself a pair of false breasts.

He sat down at his dresser and applied lashings of foundation and finishing powder to his pale face and then black eyeliner and mascara and finally blue eyeshadow. He rouged his cheeks and applied another coat of finishing powder. He then carefully painted his lips with bright red lipstick, extending the lip-line to make his lips appear fuller. He smacked his lips together, pursed them, and then bit down on a tissue with his lips to set the lipstick and remove the excess.

Mike lit a Woodbine, poured himself a glass of sherry and then sat down to paint his toe and fingernails with plum red nailpolish; it was then that he made the mental transformation from Mike to Michele. Michele looked at the small collection of wigs that she had knocked off from Oxfam and selected a shoulder-length brunette bob and pulled it on, fussing with it until she had it positioned just right with the fringe level with her eyebrows.

She looked quite attractive for her age she thought as she rummaged through her lingerie and selected a white Jacquard knit, two-way stretch, body-shaping bustiere with lace floral motif; it was high waist fronted, with flat sewn seams with attached suspender straps. She loved the way this garment shaped her body. She decided to wear white satin full-cut knickers with the bustiere. She went to her wardrobe and selected a navy blue double-breasted suit; the pencil skirt had a kick pleat and the jacket was very tight at the waist. Finally she picked out a white silk blouse and black high-heeled courts.

Now for the depressing part as she opened her hosiery drawer. There were only a few laddered and holed pairs of stockings in drawer and one unopened packet of smoke-grey, fifteen denier, fully-fashioned stockings. She lamented her dearth of hosiery; she had all the clothes, cosmetics, lingerie, shoes and wigs that she wanted, but she just couldn't get quality hosiery. She pulled on a pair of fine cotton gloves and opened up her last packet of stockings and laid them out carefully on the bed.

Michele removed the gloves and stepped into the bustiere and struggled to get it over her hips and then her chest. It firmed and flattened her stomach and cinched her waist; the inbuilt brassiere cups pointed straight out from her chest like limp cones until she stuffed her homemade breastforms into them. She pulled on the full-cut satin knickers and a little shiver of pleasure ran through her body as the satin whispered against her skin, snug tight around her buttocks and penis. She looked down at the smoke-grey stockings lying on the bed waiting to be carefully donned and reached for the hosiery gloves and then suddenly changed her mind. They were her last pair of pristine stockings and she wanted to save them. She put on the cotton gloves and carefully put them back in the packaging and put them away.

She rummaged through her hosiery drawer and found her next best pair of stockings; black fully-fashioned with a Cuban heel. One stocking had a fine ladder running from the welt to the ankle and the other had a hole the size of a threepenny bit at the knee; the hole had been prevented from spreading by the judicious application of clear nail varnish. Michele sighed and pulled on the dilapidated stockings carefully fitting them to the garter clips. She pulled off the gloves and smoothed the wrinkles out of her stockings and straightened her seams. Another sliver of delight ran through her as the sensual stockings rubbed against her shaven legs.

She pulled on the pencil skirt, fastening the waist and adjusting the hem so it sat just above her knees. The tight pencil skirt hugged her thighs and restricted her gait when she walked. She buttoned the white silk blouse and tucked it into the skirt and then walked back to the dressing table vanity mirror on stockinged feet. She loved the way her pencil skirt forced her to take foreshortened strides which emphasised her legs and buttocks and the way the skirt was stretched tight around her thighs. She clipped on some silver earrings, a matching necklace and bangles on both wrists. Then she liberally sprayed herself with perfume including a spray under her skirt; she had seen her late wife do this and although there wouldn't be anyone to enjoy her scented thighs, she liked the idea of it.

Michele walked back to the bed and sat down to pull on the black high-heeled court shoes and then put on her jacket and buttoned it. She stood up and walked over to the full-length mirror and inspected herself. Lovely, she thought. She went back to the dresser and made some adjustments to her wig and touched up her makeup and then went down the staircase to the lounge to get another packet of cigarettes and a bottle of wine. She would spend the afternoon and evening smoking and drinking and having solitary fun. When she couldn't stand the stimulation any longer she would surrender and masturbate herself to orgasm. Some days she would do this three or four times during the afternoon and into the evening. Other than her own reflection in the mirror, the only other form of stimulation she had was a few fashion magazines and her imagination.

Michele was rummaging around in the hallstand drawer looking for cigarettes when there was a brief knocking at the door and then it suddenly flew open. Standing there was a man in his forties dressed in a suit and topcoat carrying what appeared to be a sample case. He smiled and stepped over the doorway before Michele could say anything.

"Hello Missus. I'm Brian Macklin and I hope I can be of service," he smiled.

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Brian Macklin was nothing if not dedicated when it came to his job. As a top sales executive working for his father-in-law he had made thousands of pounds for the firm by studying sales and marketing trends and ensuring that profits were maximised.

Even though the only job available to him now was as a door to door hosiery salesman he applied the same level of dedication and decided to learn all he could about his products. He knew that sheer nylons fascinated men and women because of their luxuriousness, sensuality and because they greatly improved the appearance of the average English woman's lily-white bare legs, but practical knowledge of hosiery? He had none. So he began his education by visiting a hosiery manufacturer.

First he learned about denier: this is the thickness of one thread of nylon used in making hosiery. The lower the number in denier, the lighter and finer the yarn, and thus the sheerer the stocking. A hair from the average human head is about fifty denier. The lowest denier nylon ever produced for stockings was six denier, which was exhibited at the Nylon fair in London in 1956. Most quality stockings are fifteen denier and below.

Stockings were made with reinforced heel and toes using a 'reticulating heel' machine. This machine actually knits the heel pocket into the stockings using a device that knits the foot first, then the heel pocket and finally the leg and welt; this creates the "V" in the heel. Heels and toes are reinforced in fully-fashioned stockings and this gives the consumer the assurance that sharp nails or rough shoes will not cause the stockings to run. After manufacture each stocking is seamed, one at a time. The hole at the top of the seam; called the 'finishing loop', or 'keyhole back', cannot be eliminated, as the seaming machinist has to finish the seam turning the stocking top, otherwise known as the welt, inside out.

Armed with this knowledge he set forth in the suburbs of Birmingham going door to door with his sample case. His easy smile, good looks and disarming personality soon made him an invaluable asset to the company and he began to make a tidy wage considering the humble nature of his employment. The job had the added advantage that some of the women insisted on trying on the samples to see how they looked on their legs. Most of his customers would retire to the privacy of their bedroom to do this, but some of them would come back out and ask him his opinion of how they looked. One or two of the cheeky ones would notice the bulge in his trousers and tease him a little with a leg show. One particularly mischievous woman who had to be at least sixty but still had magnificent legs actually asked him to straighten her seams. He nearly came in his trousers as he smoothed the luscious nylons up her long legs. She invited him to come back in a month and slipped him a wink as he went out the door. He would definitely be going back there!

But mostly the job was boring and women bought his wares relying on the pictures in the catalogues he carried or simply asked for a particular brand and size that they always wore. The other problem was that constantly making sales meant moving further and further out into the suburbs to find new customers. One Tuesday afternoon he found himself walking down a cul-de-sac called Sovereign Way in the suburb of Moseley. He'd not made a sale all afternoon when he knocked on the door of 162.

There was no answer so he knocked again and waited patiently for a minute or two lighting up a Park Drive and enjoying the taste of the tobacco as he waited on the stoop in the afternoon sun. He was about to leave when he heard the unmistakable sound of high heels clacking on a wooden staircase. Brian looked through the sheer net curtains and was impressed with what he saw. An attractive, well-dressed matron in her forties was just stepping off the last rung of the staircase. She wore a navy blue suit cinched at waist with a tight pencil skirt with a hem that came just above her knees. Her white silk blouse, black high heels, silver accessories and heavy makeup finished the ensemble. Her she wore a shoulder-length brunette bob that caresses her shoulders.

Brian purred to himself; she was a big girl but well proportioned. Then he noticed the flaw in her appearance; one stocking was laddered and the other had a hole near the knee. This breach of style in what was an otherwise elegant ensemble was glaring. Brian smiled; he'd definitely make a good sale here he thought. During his short career as a salesman he had learned that getting through the door was half the battle when it came to door to door salesmanship; haggling with a potential customer through the doorway was tantamount to defeat, but once inside a house a sale was pretty much guaranteed. He watched the woman until she approached the hallstand and began rummaging through the drawer and then applied a technique he had devised over the last few months.

He knocked briefly on the door and turned the doorknob at the same time. The door opened easily and he quickly stepped into the hallway and introduced himself before the woman could say anything.

"Hello Missus. I'm Brian Macklin and I hope I can be of service," he smiled.

***************************************

Michele was shocked! She quickly realised a number of facts simultaneously: the man was a complete stranger, the man didn't realise she was a transvestite, the man was some sort of door to door salesman and the man was quite handsome. She took a deep breath and spoke.

"What do you want?" Michele murmured in her husky feminine voice, hoping that she didn't sound at all masculine.

"I can help you Missus; I can see you have need of my wares," Brian beamed his winning smile.

The woman had a deep smoky voice and was large but well proportioned, Brian thought to himself. He wouldn't mind getting to know her a little better; she was just his type.

"I sell stockings Missus, and if you don't mind me saying so, it looks like you could use some good quality hosiery," Brian nodded down at Michele's laddered nylons.

Michele was very nervous, on one hand she was flattered that this salesman mistook her for a real woman, but on the other, she was scared that he would soon see through her ruse. She desperately needed stockings though, and this could be the opportunity she had been hoping for. Besides, the salesman was quite a dish, she thought.

Brian boldly stepped further inside the house and made his way to the lounge and began to open his sample case. Michele closed the door and followed him into the lounge.

"I suppose I could use some new hosiery," she said.

Brian sat on the couch and mooched around in his sample case which he had placed on the coffee table. He produced a catalogue and patted the vacant space on the couch beside him. Michele nervously sat down beside him. This is the closest she had ever been to another person and she was worried that close up he might see through her disguise. Then she decided 'what the hell!' she was in her own home and she would do as she pleased; if the salesman was put off by her, he could leave any time it suited him!

"Here Missus; have a look through this and see if you see anything you like," Brian smiled at Michele and handed her the catalogue.

Michele's painted fingernail brushed against Bran's fingers as she took the catalogue from him and a little spark of electricity flew between them. Their eyes locked briefly and then Michele opened the book and began to flick though the pages as Brian nervously cleared his throat and then began to rummage in through his sample case, very aware of the proximity of the sexy woman sitting beside him. Her perfume was delightful and he stole a glance down at her legs to see that her skirt had ridden up considerably when she had sat down and the beginning of her stocking welts was just visible.

Brian felt himself hardening and lifted the sample case onto his lap to cover his growing erection. Michele was also aware of the presence of the man sitting beside her and she could smell a faint whiff of aftershave and tobacco. She smiled inwardly as she saw him sneak a peek at her legs and she adjusted the hem of her skirt to cover her stocking welts. She was becoming quite aroused by the proximity of the salesman and she enjoyed the little mind games they were playing with each other. When he reached for the sample case she was shocked but delighted to see that he had an erection. Her own penis hardened slightly in her satin knickers.