Danny's Daydream
Danny sat in the conference room, waiting for the meeting with the new client to begin. He stared out the windows onto the city below, bored with everything the afternoon would entail. Danny glanced up to catch the eye of a sexy fifty-year-old who slipped in and sat down in the center seat of the mahogany table. They shared a soft smile of acknowledgment while she pulled out her notebook. Danny assumed she was with the Northern Nylon Company. Something about this woman reminded him of Mrs. Jones, his middle school homeroom teacher. Danny had not thought of the woman who started his obsession with pantyhose in several years.
Samantha's presence caused a flood of memories involving nylons and hormones. “Hi, I am Danny. I want to be the first to tell you how proud we are to work with your company,” he held out his hand while he talked. “I am always early; everyone will be joining us soon. I am Samantha,” she answered. Danny remembered the name from the portfolio; she was head CEO over marketing. He sat back into the soft leather of the conference chair and studied the woman through a downward gaze. It was apparent Samantha had always been a beautiful woman and aged gracefully; she was wearing 5-inch pumps, a short thigh-high skirt, the soft silk blouse highlighted her cleavage, and then there were the suntan pantyhose. For Danny, there had always been a sexual pull to a woman wearing nylons of some kind. The first time he remembered seeing pantyhose was when he laid across Mrs. Jones's lap, and she paddled him. The feel of her silky stockings and the distinct smell of an older woman’s lap set the teenage boy on fire. Before Mrs. Jones, he rarely got in trouble, but that year she paddled his bottom numerous times.
Time slipped away back to the days when he was beginning to understand he had a sexual drive. The first time Mrs. Jones took him over her lap, his cheek slid across the silky feel of nylon. None of the women in his home life wore pantyhose; his mother worked as a seamstress in a local factory, and his sisters were all into mini skirts and go go boots at the time. Mrs. Jones had fussed at him throughout that day about not teasing one of the girls in the class. Danny could not remember who that girl was or why he felt the need to pick on her. While Mrs. Jones was his homeroom teacher, she also taught English and History, so Danny found himself in her room four times a day. The year started like any other he was a teenager, so pushing the adults in his life was a past time. Mrs. Jones took his outbursts for the first few weeks. Danny remembered how she would get agitated, and then she would cross and uncross her legs repeatedly in a tick fashion. At that point, he was mandated to the front row, so every time she would move, there was a hint of panties or slip from under her skirt. That was when Danny decided he needed to touch the silkiness of Mrs. Jones's nylons; a few days later, a young girl moved from another city. Danny sat absently staring at Samantha’s legs while he remembered the days he bullied a girl who he no longer could recall.
Danny drifted back to a warm spring day when he woke up, determined to touch Mrs. Jones's leg in some way. That first hour of the day, he spent pulling the new girl’s hair and making her cry. Mrs. Jones moved him around, but when she turned her back to write on the board, Danny ran over and yanked the red ponytail one more time. The final straw was when he tripped the girl on her way out of the classroom and split her lip. Mrs. Jones turned red from the tip of her toes to the top of her head. Danny remembered being terrified of the older woman for the first time. As she yelled, Danny felt the first true hardon of his young life. There had been sporadic ones when he was asleep. Mrs. Jones had insisted he sit until all the other students left, then she locked the door with the two of them alone. Danny remembered the excitement and humiliation that coursed through his veins when she made him stand up the tent, evident to them both. “You know there is nothing left for us to speak about. I have given you numerous chances to improve how you treat your fellow students. Danny, you have left me with only one choice, and that is to administer corporal punishment. You are going to lay across my lap while I paddle you twenty times. Then together we will go down to the office and call your parents,” Mrs. Jones instructed. The first instinct was to run out of the room, but there was no escape. Danny shuffled over to her desk, unable to come up with a smart comment; he was terrified and turned on. Both of the emotions were opposite of each other but similar in how his body responded.
The next few moments were ingrained into his mind even now that he was in his forties. No woman since had brought the same intense emotions to the surface. Mrs. Jones's legs parted slightly as she patted the top of her thighs, indicating that he lay across them. Danny could still remember the first smell of her perfume, the way it wafted over his body, and his testicles squeezed tight in his blue jeans. “Normally, I would pull your pants down and spank that bottom bare, but the school has rules on that so that it will be over the clothing. You will count while I swat do not lose your place and everything starts again,” Mrs. Jones instructed. She wrapped her pantyhose leg around his calves. Danny felt his penis slide between the nylon covered thighs for the first time; even though he was dressed, a jolt of electricity shot through his body. “Please, don’t do this. I will be good, I promise,” he begged. Tears were running down his face from all the strange new feelings. The first sting of the paddle thought all thought but the pain. Danny screamed out the count scared that he would lose his place. There was an inner voice that told him he wanted this and so much more. Danny screamed, “Ten.” He was biting his bottom lip when his hand slid down the calf of his teacher. That first feel of silky pantyhose on his skin seared into his mind.
Danny flexed his fingers against the cool tabletop as he chewed on his bottom lip, a habit that he dropped years ago. Samantha smiled at him as she trailed a finger down her nylons. She said nothing but enjoyed the taunt that was building between them. Danny felt the tug of his hardon against his slacks; the only reaction was to push the overstuffed chair under the table further. He took a deep breath then let out a slow sigh. Mrs. Jones had insisted the rest of the school year that Danny stayed after every afternoon. All the other students were jealous that he got all the attention even though what they thought was inaccurate. That first afternoon spanking sparked something between the student and teacher; it grew into so much more. Every afternoon she would make him sit by her desk and read his assignments. Danny’s head would rest against the silky pantyhose covered knee while one hand absently stroked the material. The rest of the school year had been a progression of where his hands were allowed to go. Mrs. Jones never let him reach much above the hem of those tight a line skirts she always wore. Danny now wondered what those sweaty sexy thighs would have felt like under his fingers. With a shocked look on his face, the fingers were absently stroking those specially chosen slacks he wore every day.
Embarrassed by his actions, Danny shifted his hand into the outer pocket of his business jacket; inside was a sample from Samantha's company. They were layered on top of each other, the drugstore quality to designer nylon. Without even pulling them out, Danny knew each product by the feel. His memories drifted back to Mrs. Jones as he fondled the drug store nylon, remembering her smell and touch. There was many an afternoon those four months before the end of the school year when she would stroke her fingers through his hair. One afternoon Mrs. Jones gave him a pair of her nylons worn numerous times; he ran straight home and slammed that antique wooden door shut with a loud thump. His mother screamed up the stairs, “Stop slamming doors, Danny, it is rude.” Danny had already pulled the nylons out and held them in front of him. That first touch on his face sent a strong whiff of Mrs. Jones scent into his teen body. Danny remembered that the first time he pushed the toe of a pantyhose into his nose, that smell was the perfect scent of his young life. He sat there on his twin bed with the stockings full of runs and masturbated his raging penis slowly for the first time. At first, it was just his hands wrapped around the engorged shaft, but soon Danny started to experiment with the feel of nylon. When he pushed his cock into one of the legs, the daydream turned to one of the legs he didn’t want to spoil that perfect foot smell with his own scent. That day so many years ago introduced him to the multiple sensations that drug store pantyhose could provide.
The sound of Samantha’s phone dragged him back into the meeting room, “Sorry, Danny, you seemed to be deep in thought. I will turn it onto airplane mode. I like how that allows me to ignore everything, at least for a few moments.” She spoke in a soft voice used to authority. Samantha’s tongue flicked out of her mouth and trailed across those bright red lips; Danny was mesmerized for a moment, his fingers still on the nylons. The seconds stretched into an uncomfortable silence until he finally found his voice, “I often get the most accomplished in the time before meetings. The noise just startled me out of my thoughts.” Samantha smiled a wicked grin, then winked at him. It was like she knew the power her presence had over a man and enjoyed taunting those susceptible to the charms. Danny watched as the older woman began to dangle her plain leather pumps of the perfect pedicure toes. A groan formed deep in his throat when it reached his lips; a pathetic cough was his only cover. Samantha held her phone in front of her face, but the look of satisfaction was apparent.
Muffled voices of everyone making their way to the conference room broke the moment between two strangers. Danny pushed his chair in under the table as the massive bulge of his penis would be embarrassing. Samantha reached down into her bag, sitting by her ankle. She pulled out an expensive-looking pen that she slowly dragged up her calf passed her knee before she lifted it to the table. “Gentlemen and Ladies, we have been developing our new line of pantyhose for the modern generation. Thank you all for taking time out of your busy days to explore the advertising options your company can offer. There will always be a certain segment of society that will hold pantyhose as a sign of femininity; those are not the ones we want to advertise to at this time,” Samantha addressed the room as she walked around on those beautiful, simply styled pumps. There was something about her tone that made Danny believe she was speaking to him.