Robert handed me the bag and I looked at his face. Hopeful. Blushing. Nervous. Excited.

“What’s in the bag?” I asked. But I knew. And already my pussy was responding. I could feel myself growing wet. My heart rate picked up. I licked my lips and waited.

“A gift.”

I rustled it. A lovely pink and black bag with some small white accents. “For me or for you?”

“Yes,” he said.

I smiled. “For you more than me, right?”

“No. For us. You like it, too, right? It’s not just me.” He kept eye contact but reached for me and pushed his hand slowly — to give me time to back up — into my pants. He slid his hand beneath my panties and slid a finger between my nether lips.

I chewed my lower lip as a zing of pleasure shot through me. I was soaked to the bone.

Robert chuckled. He slid his finger inside me and flexed it.

I groaned.

“See, I think it is, in fact, a gift for both of us.”

I nodded. “When?”

“Now.” That finger flexed again and I wished he’d added a second and finger-fucked me until I came. It probably wouldn’t take much time at all. But I’d save it for our fun and games.

Robert loved me in stockings. Old-fashioned, high-waisted, beige 70s nylons, lovely black silk ones with seams up the back and a garter belt, fishnets, fence nets, even bright colorful opaque tights. Nothing got his cock harder than me wearing nothing but stockings.

I couldn’t wait to see what was in the bag. Given the fact that I was a jeans and T-shirt kind of girl, the stocking fetish was fun and hot as hell.

In the bedroom, I peeled off my jeans and my sweatshirt. Robert watched, leaning against the wall, holding the pink and black bag.

I hastily pulled my hair into a ponytail and waved my hands at my panties and bra. “On or off?”

He looked in the bag and said, “Off.”

The first pair he pulled out and unfurled made my nipples grow hard. He’d never brought me anything like this before, and I bounced up and down on my toes. My tits bounced and my man grinned.

“Those are hot! Gimme!”

I pulled them on slowly, letting him watch. The ritual of pulling on a pair of stockings was just as arousing to Robert. As I rolled the black stockings up my legs, I was revealing the white bones painted on them. The stockings were painted to look like a skeleton’s pelvis and legs and feet.

I giggled. “These are great.”

“Turn,” Robert said. His voice had dropped into a near-growl and my pussy flickered at his gruff voice giving me orders.

I turned and peeked over my shoulders. The paint was on both sides.

He reached out and stroked the bones, tracing the funky pattern with his fingers. He slid his hands along my ass, then along my hips. He wrapped his arms around me from behind and cupped my pussy through the leggings. He slid his thick fingers along my puffy lower lips, found my clit, and rubbed me until I purred like a kitten.

He pressed himself against me and I could feel his rigid cock pushing the cleft of my ass. He ground against me and I took one of his hands and put it on my breast. His fingers instantly went to my nipple and pinched. Pleasure shot from breast to cunt and I groaned. I pushed my ass back against his erection, egging him on. He bit my shoulder and I whispered to him. “Not fucking me in these, are you?”

“Not these. These are the appetizer.”

Robert usually brought me three pairs: fun, then girly, then the money pair — the ones that really made his cock ache to fuck me.

I could hardly wait.

He moved to face me, kissed my lips, and then dropped to his knees and put his hot mouth to my pussy. He breathed out against me. His breath’s humid warmth invaded my pussy and I shoved my hands into his dark brown hair, pushing my sex against his mouth.

“What’s the next pair, lover? I want to see. I can’t wait for the fucking. It’s killing me. I want your dick in me so bad.”

When I spoke to him like that, he nearly lost his mind. By the time he put his cock in me, he’d be more animal than man.

He peeled the skeleton stockings off me slowly, taking his sweet time. He put his mouth to me again, licking me softly, gently, so that I damn near lost my mind. When he stood to gather the second pair from the bag, my clit was pounding like a drum and my head felt buzzy.

The second pair were thigh-highs. They looked like black lace but were actually intricate intersecting geometric figures. The tops were black stretchy lace. They were spectacular and made my legs look amazing.

“Have I mentioned that I love that you run and that you have legs like a goddess?” he asked, dipping two fingers into my pussy.

I stood with my legs in a wide stance so Robert had access to my pussy. I was so desperate to come it took everything in me not to put my hands on the nightstand, stick my ass out, and present myself.

He could tell because he teased me with his fingers. I was so wet, I could hear every thrust.

He pushed me forward and I put my hands on the mattress, ass back and up, the backs of the lovely thigh-highs displayed before him, me on tiptoe, calf muscles standing out proudly as a testament to my strength as a runner.

“God, you look so good in these, honey,” he said. He dragged his hands up the back of my legs. He was always careful to keep his hands as callus-free as possible to preserve our amazing collection of stockings.

His fingers kneaded my nipples, which spiked in the chill, my pussy aching to be filled.

He moved in close behind me and dragged his cock through my wetness. His cockhead nudged my clit and I hummed from the pleasure. He did it again. And then again. It stole my breath how wonderful it felt. My clitoris was so swollen and tender, every sweep of his flesh over mine pushing me closer to orgasm.

Robert pushed the tip inside me, stretching me, giving me just a taste.

“Oh fuck, baby, please!” I hadn’t meant to say it, but I had. His reaction made me tremble with anticipation.

He growled, squeezed my ass, and thrusted into me fast and hard, rocking me forward so I had to brace myself. I lifted up on my tiptoes as he gave me a few good strokes with his dick, rocking me forward and then pulling me back over and over again. I squeezed my internal muscles around him to push him a little. He growled again, sounding like a beast. An animal. I gasped at how excited it made me.

He pulled out of me suddenly, and I groaned. He squatted down behind me and began to roll one of the stockings down slowly, reverently. He repeated it on the other side until my legs were bare.

“Let me show you the last one, okay?”

I nodded, my body aching to be filled back up. I wanted his cock in me, and I wanted to come. I wanted to see his face when he came. I wanted to hear that animal growl again.

He handed me a small bag and I opened it. It unrolled much farther than I anticipated. He hadn’t just brought me stockings, he’d brought me a fence-net bodysuit.

It took both of us to get me into it with me giggling the whole time, but then I stood there in my bodysuit, nipples poking through the openings, toes doing the same.

“Not much to it, is there?” I said.

“That’s the point,” Robert said. He pushed his fingers through one of the openings and slid them into my pussy. He flexed his fingers, stroking my G-spot and I hummed, arching up to get more.

He pushed my legs wide, putting his hands on my thighs, fingers moving restlessly over the fence net. His mouth covered my mound and then his tongue nudged my clit. I hissed and pushed my pussy up against his mouth shamelessly. His tongue invaded me, sliding over my engorged nub, sucking, licking me slowly.

I tried to stay still, pointing my toes, flexing my legs, but I could barely stand it. His finger drove into me again, and I gripped the bedsheets tightly.

“Right there. Like that. Right there. Yeah, like that — ” I found myself chanting it.

Robert gave me what I wanted until I came, slamming my body up to meet his seeking tongue. Wetness rushed out of me, making him groan, making him growl.

I pushed him back and rolled to my belly, shoving my hands beneath my hipbones, raising my hips. “Fuck me,” I demanded.

The bodysuit was more holes than suit.

He got between my thighs, plucking the strings as if I were his instrument. He pulled my hips up a little more and pushed his cock into me. The angle was perfect, my wetness was perfect. I was so close to coming all over again, I thought I’d cry.

“That’s it, baby, fuck me hard,” I murmured.

He pounded into me, his rhythm so fast it stole my breath. I hovered there on the verge of release, so when he withdrew I let out a surprised cry.

He rolled me to my back and pinched my nipples where they jutted through the gaps. He sucked them slowly, teasing me. He used his teeth and I snarled like some wild animal.

With a chuckle, he pushed my legs apart and slid into me, his gaze pinned to mine. “I like this one the best; can you tell?”

I nodded mindlessly, focusing on the feeling of his pubic bone slamming my clitoris with every thrust.

“Me, too,” I muttered as I came.

I gripped his biceps tightly and felt him hit his limit. He emptied into me with a groan, his fingers still playing restlessly over the strings of my new favorite bodysuit.