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Pantyhose in Wonderland
CHAPTER 1

Drumming her fingers idly on the keyboard, Alice looked longingly at the clock. Uncrossing her black nylon covered legs, she smirked wantonly at the luxurious feeling of her warm silken thighs rubbing together. A small tremor of pleasure that tingled in her pussy made her shiver slightly with delight. While being a personal secretary for the CEO of a major hosiery company wasn’t the most glamorous of professions she could have chosen, she loved having to dress in skirts every day and of course the near unlimited supply of pantyhose and stockings from consumer samples that just so happened to make their way into her purse almost daily.
Grinning a little more widely, she reveled in her ingeniousness at how to transport her latest black pair home. She’d come to work wearing a dark brown sandalfoot pair of pantyhose, but seeing the new sheer black hose that were available she took the sample to the bathroom and slipped them on over her brown pair. Rubbing her knees together, the sudden reminder of how it felt to slip on a supple pair of nylons over her already silky legs made her pussy wet. Wriggling her toes in her 3 inch black heels, the compounded web of silk rubbing against her foot excited her more and made her wish she was home with her small, but satisfying collection of pleasure devices.
Breaking her out of her silken trance the door to the bosses door opened smoothly with a click. “That’ll be all today Alice… I’ll be working late tonight again so please leave the lights on as you depart.”
“Yes, Sir Mr. Van Pelton.” Alice replied with a sincere smile. He was a nice enough boss. Paid her well for her minimal secretarial duties, let her take the vacation periods she wanted during the holidays and always remembered her birthday, but while he had a clean well laced exterior he also had a slightly more dirty side.
Getting up from her desk with her purse, Alice donned her long black woolen pea coat, pulling the waist tight around her black skirted waistline. “Have a good evening Sir,” she replied as she walked towards the elevators, the resounding “clack” from her heels making a sensual rhythm while she intentionally rubbed her legs together with each step. From the corner of her eye she could see Mr. Van Pelton looking intently at her legs. He always let her go early and always waited till she left so he could oogle her legs. She didn’t object because the work was good, and the poor horny old goat never made passes at her, so it was all good and fine.
“Time to put on your pantyhose, Sir?” She mocked under her breath with a quizzical expression of genuine curiosity. Having taken enough pantyhose from the samples bin in the office she knew well how many pairs were in it every night and noticed every so often that a pair would be missing when she came into work in the morning.
Alice didn’t mind men wearing pantyhose, especially during sex.. the sound of nylon rubbing against each other from crotch-less copulation was a marvelous noise. Sadly Mr. Van Pelton wasn’t one she’d care to see in any form of hosiery. Bless him though, he kept to himself. All the sudden thinking of pantyhose sex made a new jolt of wetness well up in her pussy lips. Damn she was getting horny and she hadn’t even made it home yet.
The elevator arrived on time with succinct swiftness, and as Alice waited for the long drop of 24 floors to end, she set down her purse to pull up her pantyhose. Having on two pairs was heaven but they were so slippery they needed to be pulled up every so often. Parting her jacket she let her silken thigh slide past the part in her skirt and reveled in the look of her double silk clad leg. She had very nice legs and was proud of how they looked. Letting a purr escape her lips, she pinched and tugged the thin nylon over her calves, past her knees and up her thighs to her now moist crotch. Shit, she thought, ‘my panties are soaked through too!’
Running two fingers between her legs over her sheer, double nylon encased pussy, Alice began to rub her clit slowly with long circling strokes that were like lightning with each touch. She’d always had a very sensitive pussy, and had even squirted during climax on a few rare occasions, but when she wore nylons it was like magnifying her pleasure by one hundred times. “You need to be fucked don’t you baby,” she uttered down to her warm loins.
With a ding that made her jump with an audible ‘eep’ she quickly smoothed over her skirt and pea coat and with purse back in hand, exited the elevator. She hadn’t been caught yet, but her daily trysts were become more and more bold. A few steps across the lobby, through the large glass doors that had frosted images of legs etched in them, and she was right out onto the street. It was cold today and it had started snowing early in the morning. She loved winter as it reminded her of her youth growing up in the western part of New York State. After she’d graduated from college and turned 23 she’d left her small home town and ventured to the Big Apple.
Turning her deep, sea blue eyes to the skies, she pursed her lips together and blew a stream of white misty breath up into the cascading snowflakes, watching them flurry everywhere.
Taking out her cashmere scarf she wrapped it twice around her bare neck and long golden blonde hair. It was down to the middle of her back again, and she could have sworn she’d just had it trimmed. “‘Another trip to the salon I suppose,” she muttered with a wistful huff.
The walk home was always pleasant. Having a good two mile walk helped keep her legs tone and gave her a very long twenty-five minutes to enjoy her pantyhose. Each step was heaven as her silky covered toes squished into her shoes. Every so often her heel would pop out from the back of her shoe and a small draft of cold air would waft under her soles, tickling her feet lightly. The worst thing about snow was it was murder on dress shoes and very cold on feet if the sidewalks hadn’t been shoveled.
As she walked, she reflected back to try and resolve exactly where her passion for nylons and stockings had come from. Her mother had worn them all her life when she was growing up. A regular Jude Cleaver at home wearing a dress daily, and those brown stockings with the seam up the back. Alice remembered walking into the bathroom every so often in the middle of a nylon jungle. Six pairs of silk stockings would be hung on the clothes lines, on the curtain rod and the shower curtain making a translucent wall of silk. Alice used to run her hands along them, put her hands inside to feel the softness, rub it against her cheek and face, and sometimes even kiss her hand to have the silk touch her lips.
She’d grown up in dresses too. Mom always had her dressed nicely. Like mother like daughter. Then there was the opaque white tights from ballet, the black tights for her flute recitals, the tan nylons from her cheerleading days and then the very pleasurable cornucopia of nylon wearing that she expanded on and became enraptured in during her vicarious college days. Whether she was alone in the universe or not, Alice didn’t care. She adored nylons in every form, fashion, style and color and would till the end of her days.
Coming abruptly to a halt at the entrance to her street, her entire block had been roped off with those white construction saw horses cordoning off her main route to her loft apartment. The blinking orange light made her squint in the darkness. There had been flyers stuck to doors but she hadn’t paid much heed to them. Something about electric work on the street lamps to change out the old archaic ones that rarely worked anyways with newer fixtures. Dammit, she thought as a shiver of cold, instead of nylon pleasure, shot up her spine. “I’m sure this is to keep out cars, not people,” she assured herself. Deftly slipping between two of the barricades, she walked into the darkness trying to count the shapes of houses on the dark street to find her door.
A beat later as she was straining into the dark to read a snow covered mailbox, her foot stumbled on something round and hard twisting her ankle suddenly. “OUCH!” She cried bending down to sooth her wound. She was standing next to more of the barricades, but their lights weren’t working. She reached out to hold onto one for balance, her blonde hair cascading past her shoulders while she grumbled at the ache in her right ankle. Now she’d have to take her nylons off to soak her foot in warm water, she thought with a frown.
Suddenly slipping on the packed snow in the road, and being off balance, her left foot gave out from under her and she tumbled between two barricades. Expecting to hit the road, she fell headlong into a giant opened hole in the pavement. Waiting for the impact to come rushing up at her, Alice’s heart raced in panic. Glimpses of roots and earth whizzed by her, but amazingly she didn’t hit the bottom. Her stomach leapt up into her throat, like the sensation one gets during the first steep drop of a rollercoaster, as she continued to fall.
And then she fell and fell and fell. ‘The hole can’t be this deep’ she thought to herself. The temperature went from frigid cold to soothing warmth that bore small hints of wood smoke. Suddenly after several seconds a light began to come into focus from below. Pipes and roots, boards and rails all poked out at impossible angles along the wall of the tunnel, seeking to snare Alice, but none of them touched her as she continued to tumble. Eventually the light became so bright, like looking into a spotlight, that Alice shut her eyes tight against the blinding white.
Finally the world slowed to a stop. Her stomach returned to its rightful spot in her belly and it felt as if she were falling through cotton balls. Her speed slowed and the air became thicker as if gravity itself were diminishing, until at last she was in the great white light with nothing around to be seen. Then, without warning, Alice landed on a cool stone floor with a slight, albeit abrupt thump and everything went black.

To be Continued…