Slippery Thoughts!


Here is a place where you can share your thoughts and stories about SLIPS! I want to hear from you so please write to me before those great thoughts slip away!


I spent some time working as a custodian at Silver Dollar City in Branson, Mo. They have a lot of old-fashioned crafts and some theme park rides tucked away in the Ozark mountains.  At some of the  craft shops, the men and women dress up in 1800’s clothing and show tourists how to do things like glassblowing, woodworking, and weaving using old-time tools.It gets hot in the summer. The crew likes to play with the costumes, but they get damned hot in July and August.  Fran, a good-looking 40ish brunette, was one of the weavers. She had a slim body, average size breasts, and hips that would sway a battleship. Even under the petticoat puffed skirt, she’d attract attention when she walked. As custodian, I’d make a point to stop and talk with the crew. Of course, I spent more time with the good looking ones. Fran was about 15 years older than me at the time, but was going through a divorce, so she took sweet on my flirts. One hot day, she’s at her loom and says to me: “I wish I could just take off this dress right now.” “No guy in the park would mind that! You’d beat the “Fire-in-the-Hole” attraction!” “I feel like I'm on fire.”  At that, she started fanning the skirt of her dress. It was a yellow gingham with the standard lace and frills around the edges and petticoat underneath. “I’d like to see more of THAT fire-in-the-hole,” I quipped.  “You are BAD!” She laughed.  We talked a bit more before I went on with my sweeping of trash off the paths. Before Fran’s shift ended, I went back to her shop. “Still on fire?” I asked. “Burning.” “Need help getting that dress off?” “You are WORSE than bad!” “I just like riding all the rides!” We bantered back and forth for a while. I figured she was all flirt and no show when suddenly she says this: “ Go into the back room of my shop and wait for me. I’ll be there in five. I just don’t want anyone seeing us go in together.” “Great.” The back room was filled with the sorts of things you’d expect. It was a large closet that had supplies for weaving and a small break area for the crew. I pulled the curtains on the window and lounged at the table until Fran came in. “Okay, “ she said, "get me out of this thing!" “Wow! Not much for foreplay, are you?” “At my age, women don’t mess around.” She grabbed her hair and pulled it away from the back of her dress. It looked like there were buttons, but the designer had made it simple with a zipper. Fran sighed with relief as I pulled it down. She was wearing a thin white contemporary bra that was soaked with sweat. Freed, she pulled the dress off her arms and pushed it off her cotton petticoat.  “Gawd, that’s better,” she exclaimed. “Thanks!” She walked over to the box fan and lifted her petticoat to air out her legs. Then she bent over it, to cool her breasts. “Need help taking off anything else?” “The only things I have left on are my petticoat and panties.” “The offer still stands,” I grinned. “I don’t want to move an inch from this fan. You can pull off the petti and clip it to the hanger with my dress.” The old-fashioned slip had a nice elastic band around the top. It pulled easily over her round hips, revealing her equally sweaty white cotton panties.  Can’t even begin to tell you how hard I was as I clipped her petti to the hanger, hung back on the door and then turned to look at her. Fran had turned around and was swaying her delicious bottom against the breeze of the fan.  I didn’t get any further with her that day because she was concerned about being caught. But, there was another day outside of work when she invited me for a hike in the woods. She wore a sundress and lacy little half-slip. Let’s just say I got the "bottom-to-top" view of the scenic overlook that day.

Your face is fine
Like cherry wine
surrounded by hair
Beyond compare
Your shapely legs
No mere pegs
We've seen your rear
It is ever so dear
Your lovely chest
Is full of breast
But Mercedes it seems
You have some high beams
Our passion would triple
If you showed full nipple
Not from a mile away
Let them out to play
Granted more shocking
Then just a stocking
Many a movie star
Has gone that far
Nothing obscene
Keep it quite clean
Trust this old vet
Your best set
So take off the bra
Point and say TA-DA
OR open your hand
The view would be grand
We've seen the rest
Now show us your best
This is the end of my plea
So I'll wait to see
This advice you take
Or tell me go jump in the lake

From an email:

She was at home alone and she was wearing just her slip.  She got a little turned on and hoped in the bed and texted me that she needed me.  I was in a work meeting when I received her text.  She sent pictures of herself in her slip laying on the bed.  I am trying to pay attention during the meeting, but her texts and pictures kept coming!!  She took care of her needs to put it politely for a classy lady like you.  I got home and she was wearing her slip but wanted nothing to do with me.  She told me I missed my chance.  I just flipped through the texts and pictures she sent and she said she would replay it for me.  She did!  It was wonderful.

Joe and the Actress

I kick around doing odd jobs as I can find them. When I was about 22 or so, I was making most of my money doing lifeguard duty at the school pool and installing software on new computers. I also worked as a stage hand at our local theater. The theater didn’t pay a damn, but the actors and actresses were a blast to party with.
The theater work also rocked because you never knew what was going to go wrong during a play and you had to be able to deal with it as soon as it happened. One night, the problem worked out well for me. The company was putting on “The Women.” It’s a story about a bunch of women in crappy relationships and how they scheme their way through it all. Takes place in mid 20th century so the women were all dressed in clothes from that time.  That means slips and sexy lingerie, too. Sometimes they were on stage in their full slips. I loved that play.
So, one night, Sandra’s dress zipper gets stuck between scenes. She’s a decent looking thirty-something with brown hair, a few freckles and an ass that shouts “Grab me!” every time she’s walks by.  She sticks her head out of the dressing room and says to me, “My zipper’s stuck. Are any of the other actresses out there?”  I tell her “no,” but I’m willing to help if she doesn’t mind.
She’s in a pinch, so she agrees. I go in and fiddle with it a bit. It was hung up just below her bra strap on some of the dress cloth. Didn’t take me too long to free it. I made sure to slide it ALL the way down to the top of that nice ass.  Didn’t seem to faze her – maybe because she had a white full slip on and she did scenes on stage with that.  So she takes off the dress, tells me thanks and that’s that.
Well … I don’t let it alone. The next couple of performances, I tease her and ask if she needs help with her zipper. She’s coy and says ‘Not tonight,’ but doesn’t seem irked. Last performance comes around and there’s a scene where she’s off stage for a good 15 minutes or so. I’m just hanging with a couple other hands watching the show in the wings when Sandra waves at me from the dressing room.  I stroll over and ask if she needs help with her zipper and what do you? She says , “Yes.”
I slide it down, easily. “Doesn’t seem stuck,” I tell her.
She shrugs and asks me, “How about your zipper. Is it stuck?”
Well .. I tell her, “There’s one way you can find out.”
The bold little bitch reaches down and unzips my jeans without the bat of an eye.
“I think my snap is stuck, too.”
She pops it open and says, “Not now.”
“Can’t do a lot before you have to be back on stage,” I tell her.
“What can you do?” She asks. Her hand is already moving around my boxers.
“Well I can just stand here until you fire my cannon, or if you put your hands on the dresser and face the mirror, I can give you a good rub-humping on your sweet shaped ass.”
She laughs and asks me what a rub humping is. I turn her around and have her bend over so that her legs are spread a bit and her hands are supporting her on the dresser. We can see each other in the mirror. Then I run my hands along her slip, and reach down to push it up over her hips. She’s got on thigh high stockings, garter belt and granny panties.
Doesn’t matter to me. We leave our underwear on and I push my cannon hard against her backside, so it’s good and snug and then begin moving like I’m giving it all to her. I reach around for a quick fondle of her hanging boobs. It’s easy in that position to slip a hand beneath her slip and bra to get a good feel of her excited nipples. But, I need some stability so I stand up and hang onto her hips, tucking my fingers under her garter straps while I slide and pound against her.
Only lasts a minute or two with both of staring at each other in the mirror. She has to stop to get ready for the next scene. She doesn’t have to put on much, but it’s a good thing the slip is covering her granny panties because she and I both left damps spots on our underwear.
That was one of the hottest 10 minutes I’ve ever spent with a woman without going all the way and every time I see a slip, I remember Sandra in the dressing room.


I whisked the last of the yellow maple leaves into a large pile by the curb and then leaned my old rake against the back porch rail.  My yard was clean, but I was not. I wanted out of my grungy work clothes and into a nice, hot bath.  I kicked off my garden sneakers onto an old towel inside my back door and headed upstairs to change.  I yanked off my gray sweatshirt and pulled open my dresser drawer. I’d worked hard and was in the mood for something soft and feminine after my bath.  As I rooted through my undergarments, I wondered if Tom was watching, again. I peered past the open curtains of my bedroom window and toward my neighbor’s lilac bush.  He was there.  I thought I might give him another show from the window, but a more interesting thought came to mind. I trotted back downstairs to my back door.
I was wearing a plain and rather thin, white bra and decided not to bother putting my sweatshirt back on. I was certain the cool October air would benefit my plan, so I stepped onto the porch and called through the bushes.
No answer, but I caught glimpses of his yellow college jacket through the leaves.
“Tom? I could use a hand in my house. If you’re there, I’d appreciate if you could come over for a few minutes.”
“Um. Yeah, sure. Um, just let me finish what I’m doing. I, uh. I need to put my rake away.”
I didn’t bother to ask what he might be finishing, but I doubted it involved a rake. He was on my porch in only a couple of minutes, trying hard to keep his eyes off my chilled and attentive breasts.
“C’mon in.”
He followed me inside. I took his jacket and tossed it onto the back of one of my kitchen table chairs.
“Tom Zelmer. I don’t think I’ve seen you in a couple of years.”
He’d gained his freshman 15 pounds plus a few extra in his two years of college, but he looked more sturdy than stout. His blonde hair was longer than most and in need of both scissors and a comb.
“Yeah, it’s been a while Miss Colton.”
I wrinkled my nose. “Brianne, please. Or at least Brie. You’re an adult now.”
“Okay, ‘Brie.’ So what do you need help with?”
I love to toy with men. Young men are the easiest.
“Yes. Laundry. You know, clothes, underwear, stuff that goes into the washer and drier. These, for instance.”
I pulled off my jeans and tossed them into a nearby basket. My panties weren’t anything special, just a plain pair of blue and white cotton briefs, but revealing them flushed Tom’s face.
“Come on upstairs,” I said.
  He followed me up the stairs just far enough behind that I could feel his eyes mentally caressing my shapely, round ass. I walked to the window in my room that faced his grandparent’s house.
“Look there.” I bent over and pointed toward the lilac bush. It took him a moment to take his eyes off my rear, but when he did look, I winked at him. “I know you’ve seen me from there. And don’t worry, I don’t mind. It kind of flatters me. But I do have one question: How long have you been watching me?”
Tom’s face glowed tomato red. “What?”
“How long have you been watching me?”
He hummed a bit, but finally confessed. “Since I was 15.  I saw you undress one day when I was mowing the yard for my grandparents.”
I nodded. “And you’ve been doing that every time you’ve visited?”
“Kind of,” he mumbled. “I don’t always know when you’re going to be there and you don’t always have your curtains open.”
“Ah,” I nodded. “Well, I told you I needed some help with laundry. I want to do a full load, but I need another set of clothes in it. I want you to pick them out for me and put them on my bed. You can look through my closet and dresser to find anything you want me to wear. Once you’ve found what you like, hand them out to me. I’ll be just outside.”
I had to repeat myself twice before he believed I was serious. Once I had convinced him, I waited in the hall listening to him rustle through my clothes. He quickly found what he wanted brought them out to me.
“Now,” I said, with wicked wink. “I want you to strip down to your shorts
and hide in my closet.”
“You’re kidding me.”
I pulled off my bra and handed to him. “Here’s my first goodwill offering.  If you want to see the show, you’ll have to strip down, too.”
His eyes remained frozen on my bare breasts as his fingers fumbled with the buttons of his plaid, long sleeved shirt. He eventually managed to remove both it and his undershirt. I pointed at his jeans.
“Those, too.”
He untied his sneakers and timidly removed the old Wranglers. I smiled to see his barely covered excitement.
“Now toss them on the bed and get into the closet.”
He piled his clothes and my bra at the foot of my tall bed, and then slipped into my walk-in closet. He closed the door behind fully behind him. I rolled my eyes and cracked it open.
“Not all the way closed. I want you to watch. Here, keep these as a souvenir.” I pulled off my panties and handed them to him. “Wait here.
I’ll be back in a moment.”
I took the clothes he selected and stepped out into the hall to put them on.  He’d combined an interesting mix of sexy lingerie with a conservative skirt and blouse. Once I had them on, I stepped into the room, turned off my ceiling light and lit two large vanilla candles. Time for the show.  I sashayed from one bedroom window to the other.
“I’d better close my curtains. There’s no telling who might see me undress.”
I walked toward the foot of my bed and sat down on it with my legs spread as wide as the tight khaki skirt would allow. I arched my back and raised my hands in a long stretch. I knew Tom would be able to see past the tops of my black thigh high stockings.
“It’s been such a long day. It’s time for me to get ready for a nice hot bath.”
My fingers worked open the delicate pearl shaped buttons that fastened my sheer white blouse.
“I love the delicate lacework around the collar and cuffs on this blouse. I wonder what Tom would think if he knew that I sometimes don’t wear a
thing beneath it?”
I pulled the blouse free from my skirt’s waist and tossed it onto Tom’s pile of clothes. I could glimpse a shadow of him through the thin, dark opening of my closet. He stayed very quiet. I caressed my breasts through the wide laced white camisole, wondering how much he could see. Without a bra, I was able to encourage my nipples to rise beneath the soft satin. I stood up and turned my back toward the closet door.
“This skirt is SO tight!” I bent over, allowing the twill to firmly grab my thighs and butt. “It needs to come off.” I slid my hands back up my calves to my knees. I grabbed the skirt hem, and pulled it up far enough to show off a vintage powder blue half slip with a tall slit up its back.
“What a pretty slip,” I cooed. “I’d all but forgotten I had it. I wonder what Tom would think if he could see the whole thing on me without my skirt on?”
I could hear his breathing. It was getting louder. I unfastened the skirt button and pulled down the zipper, enjoying its sultry sound. The skirt fell to my feet. I hooked it with a toe and tossed it onto the bed.
“I’ll bet if I had my curtains open, Tom would be begging me to raise up my slip so he could see what kind of panties I had on.”
I lifted the slip high and stood close to the closet door. I was surprised at how turned on I was getting with this silly game. I wondered just how hot it was making Tom. I wasn’t close enough to make out what was going on in the shadows, but I did see some motion. I hiked the green slip above the tops of my stockings to show off the sexy novelty panties. Tom must have found the red g-string thong in a corner of my lingerie drawer nearly as deep as where he found the slip. It was decorated with a tiny black skirt around the waistband. Drew Woods, a boyfriend from years ago, had given me the thong as a Valentine’s Day gift. I’d only worn it once. It was that evening and it didn’t stay on long. I reached inside the tiny garment and hid my hand behind it, remembering how Drew’s hand had once been there.
“Here I am caressing myself,” I moaned gratuitously. “If Tom could see me,
I hope he’d be doing the same thing.”
I heard faint grunts from the closet and smiled. I quickly yanked off the panties and pulled out my right foot, leaving them clinging around my left ankle. I gave them a toss toward the closet. They landed about a foot away from the door. The grunts were a little louder.
“I’m feeling very warm.” I really was.
“I’d better take off this camisole.” I lifted the satin garment over my head and tossed it onto the other clothes.
A loud thump shook my closet door.
“You okay?”  I stepped over to open the door, still bare breasted and wearing only the green slip and black stockings. Tom was on his knees with his hands in a wad around his crotch.
“Yeah. Um … yeah.”
I lifted one of his hands so I could see what he was covering.  My little show must’ve turned him on in a big way. His briefs were soaked, and he’d been using the blue and white cotton panties I’d given him to wipe up the excess.
“Well,” I smirked. “I think you’ve finished one load and now I have a full one.”
We got things cleaned up within an hour. I doubt Tom’s grandparents were aware he’d even left the yard.  I’d had more fun than I expected. Before he left my house, I asked a coy question.
“Will you still be in town this Saturday?”
“Yeah,” he said. “I’m not leaving until Sunday evening.”
I nodded. “If the weather is warm, I’ll be taking a revealing walk near Elm Creek behind the abandoned farmhouse on US 12.”
“How revealing?”
I pulled the red g-string from my laundry basket and tucked it into his
jeans. “Let’s say that I like to leave lingerie instead of breadcrumbs.”
“How warm?”
I pursed my lips and gave it a quick thought. “65 degrees, if the sun is out.”
It was 69 and sunny that whole weekend.

I’ve never been particularly shy with my words or my body. I like to be frank and honest with people and I want to enjoy my body to its fullest. That’s why I stay away from garbage food, love Taekwondo and outside activities and have enjoyed sex since I was sixteen. All this to say - I never pay too much attention as to whether or not the curtains on my bedroom window are open or closed. Turns out that one week last summer, a young college boy did notice.

I love wearing all kinds of clothes from worn jeans and my leather biker jacket to my little black dress with stockings and heels. During the summer, I enjoy breezy sun dresses with lace half slips.

I was in my bedroom one July evening last year, changing out of my dress and into a chemise. I thought I caught a motion in the bushes of my elderly neighbor’s yard, but when I turned to look, I didn’t see anything. I finished changing and stepped out of the room for a minute. Out of curiosity, I went to the window of the guest room next to mine and peeked out the window. The different angle let me get a better look behind the large lilac. There was shaggy headed boy crouching down and peering at my bedroom window.

“A real peeping Tom!” I laughed. I realized he must be “Thomas,” the
college grandson the Zelmer’s would talk about. They said he planned to visit them on his way back home from school.

I thought I’d give him a little fun. I went back into my room and slowly pulled off my chemise. I kept my back to the window. My red and white striped panties were still on, but they didn’t hide much.

My slip, bra and dress were still on the bed. I put on my lacy white bra and then turned to face the window. Now that I knew where Thomas was, I could see him more easily. I ran my fingers around the waistband of my panties and pulled them out and down just a bit before smoothing them onto my hips. My white half slip was next. It’s not a fancy thing. It has about a half inch of lace around the hem, but I enjoy it. I stood squarely framed in the window as I put it on. I pretended there must be something still not quite right with my panties, so I pulled up the hem of the slip and adjusted them once more. Finally, I slipped my yellow sundress back over my head and zipped up the back.

“Okay, Brianne,” I thought. “Show’s done.” I leaned over and peered out the window, this time looking exactly at the eyes hiding behind the lilac bush. I blew him a kiss and then closed the curtains.

I changed back into my chemise and finished my bedtime routine, wondering how the kid liked his show. Turns out he was back the next day. That time, I invited him into the house for a closer look … but that’s another story.

My cousin, Colleen burst into my room.
“Brian! Do you have an extra pair of jeans and a white t-shirt?”
I tossed my summer read, “Dune,” aside and sat up on my bed.  My brothers were out swimming in the lake so I had the whole cabin to myself. Colleen and I had history of sneaking off during our family gatherings to share racy stories and do a little stripping with each other. I thought she might have a quick strip in mind.
“Yeah,” I replied. “They’re in the middle drawer.”
Colleen darted to the dresser and yanked the drawer open. She’d cut her hair short and dyed it copper for the summer.  The afternoon sun made it glisten. The bright rays also revealed her slender curves beneath her white sundress.  She pulled out the clothes she wanted and held them up.
“Mind if I borrow these?”
“Not at all. Do I get to watch you put them on?”
“Twice, if you hurry,” she said. “Take off your shorts and shirt.”
That was our rule. Neither one of us could be more undressed than the other. I did as she asked. As soon as my shorts were on the floor, she kicked off her sandals and pulled her dress over her head.  I had to rearrange the boys, as my erection began to grow. Colleen pulled off her small slip and tossed it to me. “Here, you can use this after I go.  Just be sure to get it back to me before I do my laundry, tonight.”
“Consider it done.”  She knew I enjoyed stroking myself with women’s underwear.  “What do you mean twice?”  I asked.
“You know my friend, Darla, who came with our family this year?”
“Yeah, I met her briefly last night. You two are on the same dorm floor.”
“Uh-huh. Well, I told her I’d give her a few intimate pointers in the old barn out in that field. I said I needed to change, but I’d meet her there in a half hour. If you hurry, you can beat us and hide in the loft. You’d better be quiet though, or I’ll pretend I never knew you were there.”
“Okay. Sure.”  I was still baffled, but Colleen’s life was filled with sexual adventure, so I took her at her word.  She had my jeans and t-shirt on in a flash. I quickly put on my own clothes and made a dash for the barn.
My breathing from the run had just relaxed when the door creaked open. Colleen and Darla slipped inside. The barn was dim and dusty. Most of the light shone through cracks in the walls and missing slats. I lay still in the shadows of the loft, so I wouldn’t make the old boards creak.
Colleen had brought an old blanket with her. She tossed it onto a tool box, and then sat down on it.
“Sit here.” Colleen patted the spot next to her.
Darla’s short summer skirt rode up her full thighs, crinkling the blue floral print when when she sat. She smoothed it out and then adjusted the bra straps beneath the thin white blouse that covered her equally full breasts.  Darla appeared both nervous and excited.
“Okay, here’s what I’m going to do,” Colleen explained.  “Pretend I’m Michael. I’m going to make moves on you and then I’ll tell you how to respond.”
Darla pulled nervously on her shoulder length brown hair. “How far are we going to go?”
“How far do you want to get with him?”
Darla grinned. “Well … not ALL the way, but pretty close.”
“Okay, then that’s how far we’ll go. Now, pretend we’re in his truck and you’ve parked somewhere secluded. He’s going to put his arm around you like this, and then begin to kiss you.”
“Just do my cheeks. No lips, okay?”
“That’s fine.”
Colleen began kissing Darla on her face, moving from one cheek, over her eyes, to the other. Meanwhile, her hand began caressing the inside of Darla’s thighs.  I felt my hard on growing again.
“Now,” Colleen directed. “After this has gone on for a while, he’s going to be looking for some sign from you. You can do something simple like untucking his shirt or be bold and unfasten the snap on his jeans.”
Darla brushed back her hair, uncertain, and then pulled the t-shirt free.
“You’ll need to run your hand underneath it,” Colleen coached.
Darla did so. I carefully repositioned myself as I watched Darla’s hands make their way to Colleen’s small breasts.  My own hand had been there several times. I shoved the slip Colleen gave me beneath my underwear. The soft white silk gave my now firm erection some easy shifting space. A bit of the lace rubbed against my balls, making them swell in expectation.
“Good,” said Colleen. “Now, he’s going to do the same and go a step further.”  She unbuttoned Darla’s blouse and then reached behind her to loosen her bra.  Colleen was quick. She had her lips on Darla’s wide nipples before her brunette friend knew what had happened. A ray of sun caught the look of shock and pleasure on Darla’s face.  Unsure what to do with her hands, she began running them through Colleen’s copper hair.
“MMmm,” Colleen moaned. “Very good.”
After a minute or so on each breast, Colleen came up for air.  “You okay?”  She asked.
“Yeah,” Darla replied, a bit breathless. “I just didn’t know …”
“Know what?”
“Well … that a woman’s lips would feel so nice.”
Colleen giggled. “Darla, who better to know how a breast should be treated than another woman?”
“Wow. I guess so.”  Darla had visible relaxed. “What’s next?”
“Next is your move. After he comes up for air, you need to catch him with a kiss. He’ll put his hand on your thigh and move it up, looking to see how far he can get.  What you need to do is not leave him guessing. Pull his hand right up to you and then unfasten his jeans. Got it?”
Colleen began kissing Darla’s neck, working her way up from shoulders to chin. I watched her hand slide over Darla’s knee and reach the hem of her skirt. Darla opened her legs  a bit and then pushed Colleen’s hand past the lace of her own white slip and firmly onto her blue and white striped panties.  She then reached around Colleen’s arms to unsnap and unzip my borrowed jeans.  I felt like Darla was doing me and Colleen at the same time.
A sudden “Oh!” slipped from Darla’s lips. It looked as though Colleen had picked up the pace of rubbing Darla’s undoubtedly damp panties.  Colleen pulled back and pushed my jeans to her ankles and then kicked them free. Without a word, Colleen reached around Darla and pulled off her skirt, tossing it on top of the jeans.
“Now,” Colleen directed, “sit on Michael’s lap and scoot close.”
Darla’s fair skin was flushed. She said nothing, but did as she was told. Colleen hiked up Darla’s slip, grabbed her butt and pulled her close. I could see she’d also slipped a hand between them.
“Pretend my fingers are his cock and begin rubbing.”
Darla began to shift up and down on Colleen’s lap. Another “Oh!” slipped from her lips, and then one more.  I noticed my hand was rubbing myself in the same rhythm.   Colleen pressed her lips against one of Darla’s nipples and began sucking.  Darla rocked faster. This time, “Oh MY! Oh
MY!” Oh MY!” came pouring out.
Colleen giggled and stopped.
“I think you have the idea.”  She eased Darla off her lap and handed her back her skirt. Colleen told me later that she was concerned someone might hear them.
“I never … I never …”
“If you thought it was good with me, wait until you have his equipment to work with.”
Both women dressed quickly and left the barn. I pulled the semen soaked slip from out of my pants and then headed back to the cabins. I waited an hour or so before stopping by Colleen’s room.
“Did you see anything?” She asked.
“Oh yeah! EVERYthing! In fact, here’s a souvenir.” I handed her the used slip.
She grinned wickedly.  I’m going to do my laundry at midnight.  I’ll want to get as MANY of my clothes washed as possible. In fact, the only clean thing I have left is this little nightie.” She held up a short red satin chemise with high cuts on the side. “Stop by if you want to help.”
“Count on it.”



Colleen and I were still in high school. Seems like she was a junior and I was a sophomore. Our families had gone to our grandparent’s house near Joplin, Missouri. It was big place that could accommodate the 20 or so of my mom (Nancy), her sister (Noreen), their brother (Nick) and all of us kids. Thanksgiving dinner had been eaten. The guys had washed the dishes and were watching football. The women were gabbing on the back porch and the younger kids were all messing around outside. Colleen and I, the oldest two, had wandered upstairs to listen to some new cassette tapes we’d brought.

In the middle of one of the songs, Colleen turns up the sound a little and says to me, “Let’s snoop!”
“Anywhere!  Let’s see what’s in Gram’s closet.”
Visions of old lady clothes and musty smells popped into my head. But – with Colleen, one can never tell what will happen, so I shrugged and said
We slunk down the hall and into our grandparent’s bedroom. Colleen went straight for the closet.
“Come here!” She whispered.  I edged near her, with a wary eye on the cracked door to the hall.  “Check this out!”
She held up a fancy party dress from the 1940’s. It was shiny blue with a full skirt and a bow on the back.
“I’ll bet Gram got what she wanted when she wore this.”
“I don’t know. It’s kind of hard to tell with it on a hanger.”  I was baiting Colleen and she knew it.
“Dare me to try it on?”
“I dare you!”
She giggled wickedly, dropped her jeans and pulled her shirt over her head. Colleen has always had an almost rail thin frame, but when she’s only in panties and a bra, the gorgeous curves around her waist and hips are obvious.
“You know the rule!”
The rule is that neither of us can be more undressed than the other. This kept us honest in early years and was just fun later on. I took off my jeans and shirt.
“Now, I have to find a slip.”
I looked nervously at the door. “Are you stalling?”
“Yes,” she winked and then headed for the dresser drawers. After a little searching, she found an ornate baby blue full slip with lace on top and pleats near the skirt.
“Wow.”  I never knew they came that fancy.”
“Used to,” Colleen said, matter of fact.  She slipped it over her head. Gram was a little bigger in the bust, but the slip fit over Colleen’s hips perfectly.
“Feels nice!” She cooed. “Touch it.”
I picked up the hem and fingered it gently. I guess I thought it was so old I might break it.
“Feels softer than the other slips you’ve worn.”
“It’s real silk!”  She grabbed my hand and put it on butt. “Feel it against my panties.”
“It’s slippery.”
“Yeah …” She sighed.  “Hand me the dress.”
I did and she had it on in a moment.  She was now more dressed than me, so I started to put my jeans back on.
“No. No!”
“The rule,” I said.
Colleen reached beneath the dress and pulled off her panties. She stuffed them into my underwear, which was already pretty crowded with my growing erection.  “Collateral. Come here!”
She grabbed my hand and pulled me into the closet. “Pretend sex,” she whispered in my ear. We pushed aside the hanging clothes. Colleen leaned back against the wall and hiked up the dress, but left the slip covering her.
We began fondling and kissing, but avoided touching our lips.
No lip kissing is our other rule. We figure we have pretty much crossed most lines first cousins shouldn’t cross, but keep kissing and “real sex” as our boundaries.
“May I use your panties as my condom?” I whispered.
She never cared. It usually turns her on when I use her clothes during pretend sex, but I always ask.
I wrapped the thin nothing around my erection, then pressed it hard against Grams blue slip. It didn’t take too long before we were both wet and flushed.
Our timing was perfect. We’d no sooner got back into our own clothes when two of our younger cousins came running up the stairs looking for us.
“Watcha doin?” They asked.
“Just messing around.”
“Oh. Gramma said to come down because the pie is done an’ if you want a hot piece you need to come now.”
“Okay,” we smiled.
“I think I already got my hot piece,” I whispered to Colleen.
“Me, too.” She smiled, “But you still need to help me find a clean pair of panties.”
That was her flirt that we would be getting together again. Turns out, it was later that evening after everyone had gone to bed … but that’s another story.

Dear Mercedes:
I love your web site. So few women these days understand and wear sensual lingerie. People seem to have forgotten just how arousing a little lace showing from under a skirt can be. That little show can make a man want to know just what else is covered-up.
Also, I confess that the feel of a woman's curves under satin or silk is extremely arousing. I used to love to dance with the women who knew this. As I would hold her close, I could enjoy how my hands would slide so smoothly over her back with the aid of a loose dress and a silky slip.
My final confession is personal. Women have always had the option of wearing different fabrics, colors and sexy lace. Men never have; at least in my life time. So, I confess that I fully enjoy wearing silky panties all day. When I get home, I love to slide into a slip for evening.
This has nothing to do with being homosexual or a desire to be a woman. It is simply as you state. I LOVE THE FEEL OF SENSUAL FABRIC AGAINST MY BODY!
Thank you for your site.

I had been to my girlfriend's house on many occasions, and we had experimented with the 'usual' intimacies that young teenagers do, while still in the same house with her parents as chaperones.
One day when I arrived, she was ironing in the room just off the kitchen. She took me back to the laundry room, and continued her ironing as we chatted. Her folks just in the front of the house. Couldn't be more innocent.
She began to iron a slip. It was white silk. Not nylon, but real silk. For some reason, the smell of the ironing got me aroused. She noticed this.
"What are you staring at?" she asked me. I was enraptured by the sight of the iron passing over the white silk.
She began to see that the ironing was turning me on. I became erect within the confines of my jeans. Very quietly she undid my jeans, and slowly stroked my erection, as she ironed. This drove me crazy. She could tell, and tried something else. She warmed the silk slip, and then wrapped the silk around my ridgid cock. I almost passed out with pleasure..
I then had an overwhelming desire to put my hand on the iron..on top of her hand. As I did, I stopped the iron from moving. It just sat there....
It was a dry iron...and she had it turned up a notch or two too high, I guess. She said, "It's going to scorch if you don't let me move it"...
I didn't. She just looked up at me and grinned. Then she turned the iron up all the way....and just kept stroking me....
The iron got hotter and hotter...we could smell the silk start to burn....she moved the iron a little, to show me the dark brown burn mark...and then I came into the silk she held me in.
She explained to her mother that it was an accident. Her mom was not upset, and she bought her another silk slip some time later.
Somehow that one was burned by the iron as well.....
Ever since then, I have a definite, unsatisfiable lust for "Ironing" silks....

Dear Mercedes,
Having read a lot of varying stories about the ´Slip`era I am delighted to read that slips are now back in favour with the ladies of the world.
I am convinced that most women know that a lace hem or trim on slips, bras and panties is a massive turn on for most men.
During the sixties when I was in my teens, I thought that the slip was the most sensual item of a of sex woman´s wardrobe. 
I believe that I thought this because it was ´underwear` and it was the only item of underwear that we poor males ever got glimpses of.
Sometimes you could see the lace top with a low cut dress and often enough, the lacy hem under the hem of a dress or skirt.
My memories are like the television of the era, mainly black and white with white winning by 10 to 1.
My first real active memories stem from when I was 14.
I would be very aroused when I saw a famous actress in a scene from a film.
I remember that some of my favourite actresses, Doris Day, Janet Leigh and Debbie Reynolds had all feauresin slips scenes but mainly before my age of awareness. I have surfed the net for the images of them in their slips from films of the fifties and very early sixties.
It is, in retrospect, amazing, but the glimpse of a lacy slip hem was like radar to me. In trains, on buses and at functions such as weddings, christenings where there would be a mingling of different families.
But returning to that era I am sure that my naivity was explored by quite a few women who could see an impressionable lad of 15 or 16 with no sexual experience at all, wide eyed and obviously interested.
In fact I feel sure that had certain instances occurred involving me at a later year I would have grasped a certain chance of six.
The first such occasion happened when I was 14. I was looking after two young male cousins. Sons of my mother´s brother.
Their mother, Aunt Joan was a rare visitor to the house because they lived a few hundred miles away.
One morning the boys were running around in her bedroom and she called for me to collect them and set them for breakfast.
I entered her room and she was standing in front of me with a bra half on and a breast exposed, she had a hand over her pubic hairs as she had no panties on.
I obviously flushed and left the room saying sorry. I minute later she called for me to go back in and was standing in a beautiful ice blue slip with a 2 or 3 inch white lace hem and trim.
She acted as if this was perfectly normal and now, on reflection, I am sure she did this to get a reaction. She got it, I couldn´t take my eyes from her slip.
Aunt Joan was constantly tapping my rear and kissing my cheek and I am sure I missed the ´older woman` there.
Another occassion, as with thousands of boys, was in the office of my first job. I was 18 and although I had lost my virginity I had never mixed with older women.
There was a woman, Pamela who was for then, a rarity, a career woman. Single and always first into the office. The tarting time was 09.00 and I often get there between 8.15 and 8.30 because my father made sure I was never late by getting me out of the house on time.
Depending on the trains, I wouls sometimes get to the office by 08.00 or just after and the next day 10 minutes later.
Pamela was the boss of a department situated, in open plan, next to where I sat. She sat with her back to the window on the same aisle as my desk and I sat diagonally one desk forward to her right.
If I turned to me left and looked back I looke straight at her.
She was about 45 years old and always wore suits, grey, blue and in summer beige or cream. She was elegant and always polite and friendly.
She would come to me with queries from time to time and lean on my desk with her soft perfume filling my nose and her top two blouse buttons open.
After I had been there for about three months she and I had become used to ´sharing `the early empty office. In fact if I arrived before ten past eight I would stop at a coffee shop and get us 2 coffees.
I arrived one Monday morning at just before 8 o´clock and she was finishing her make up using a vanity mirror on her desk.
I put her coffee down and she said good morning and the stood up and said ´how do I look`. She looked fantastic. A dark blue skirt with a beige blouse that was completely see through. I could see every stitch of her beige or ivory slip and the bra underneath.
The it got worse for me. She told me that this was her outfit for a dinner she was going to after work and would I mind keeping a look out for anybody arriving while she change back into her work clothes.
I stammered OK and paced three yards to the end of the row of desks a looked along the corridor.
She was 12 feet away from me and turned to close the window blinds.
She ( seemingly ) slowly undid the blouse buttons and pulled in from her skirt and then stretched away from her shoulders. She was then standing there with the top of the most beautiful beige slip with white lace trim . She seemed to take 10 minutes looking for the hanger that was in front of her.
Pamela then took the famous women´s stance of unzipping a side zip of the skirt and then leisurely sliding it down her hips and calves and off. I now had the complete slip in view and I was breathless there was at least 2 inches of white lace hem and she took an age to hang the skirt with the blouse.
Then I nearly died. She lifted the hem of the slip and raised it over her head and the slip was now gone.
Pamela was standing 12 feet away from me wearing a matching beige bra and suspender belt, flesh stockings and panties. I remember starting to shake. She glanced at me and smiled, that was too much. 
She then found a white waist slip that she put on and then a grey skirt that I recognized and finally a fairly light woolen  jumper.
She was dressed again and it had all taken about 4 minutes. She looked at me again and said thank you and as she walked by she kissed my cheek and went off to hang her suit and slip in the ladies cloakroom.
Sorry, but I went straight to the men's rest room and masturbated and came in about 60 seconds without my shaft getting fully hard.
No woman has ever had such an affect on me since and I am sure she knew very well what she was doing to me and had planned this well in advance. 
The slip is a dangerous, sensual and elegant weapon in the feminine armoury.
Long live the slip.


My experience with slips dates back to my childhood years during the late 70's & early 80's in which I refer to as the "near-end of the slip era". A first experience was in Brooklyn,NY,and involved a girl named "Anna" who was a few months older than myself and lived in the same apartment building as I. One day I saw her walking up the stairs to her third-floor apartment. She was wearing a sand-colored wrap-around corduroy skirt, and her white slip was dangling dangerously low in relation to the hem of her skirt. By the time she made it to the top of the first flight, a very large portion of lace was generously exposed. I thought the whole garment was going to drop off right there and then. You can only imagine how aroused I was ! At a later point in time, she invited me to her flat. On that day she was wearing a sand-colored dress, and when she requested that I unzip her dress, I responded in kind. Needless to say, a white nylon full-slip was underneath her dress. By this time her "jet engines" were in full take-off mode and she wanted to make-out with me.I regret to say that like the fool I was, I had chickened-out. Damn it !,a missed opportunity. It does not take rocket-science to know that the dangling lace slip routine was a deliberate act on her part. My favorite episode was in elementary school, and one day she decided to lift up her frilly sky-blue dress in order to expose her white lace slip to all the boys. I can clearly remember when a female member of the staff ordered her to immediately place her dress back to the proper position, and shouted out very loud about how disgusting her behavior was for everyone to hear.

John in western Kentucky



When I was about 12 my friends mum used to give my friend and I a lift to school. She was a very attractive blonde woman about 35 years old. Penny Turner as she was called would always dress very smart and very attractively. She always wore very nice tight fitting dresses with high heels and stockings. I could tell that they were stockings because you could normally see the outline of the suspender buckle through the side of the dress. Some times you could see a small amount of lace peeking out from below the hem of her dress. This particular morning it was different. The first thing was that I walked across the street to my friends Peter's house. I rang the bell and Penny came to the door she said that Peter was not well and would not be attending school that day but she said that she would still drop me off at school as it was on here way to work. She was wearing what must have been a new dress because I have never seen it before and it was also shorter than normal. Her usual dresses were just below the knee, but this one was a good 2 inches above the knee. The dress was a black knitted wool very very figure hugging. She hadn't realized that she had about 2 inches of crisp white flowery lace showing at the hem. She could see my eyes were fixed on the hem of her dress. She looks down to see what I was looking at. She noticed the lace peeking out and quickly wiggled, the dress down to hide the lace, but the half slip was just a bit too long and there was still about 1/2 inch of lace showing. She got her keys and we went outside to the car. She undid the passenger door and I got in she then climbed in at the drivers side as she climbed in the dress rode up revealing large portions of the white slip. She tried in vain to pull the dress down to hide the lace but unfortunately the slip was just too long. It was quite a damp day very overcast and wet which caused the next problem. She turned the key and tried to start the engine but the engine just turned over but would not start. She tried about six or seven times but the engine just would not start. By this time she had become quiet cross "damn this car" she said "It would do this this morning." She reached around into the backseat of the car and picked up a can of easy start reveling acres of white lace as she did so. She was by this time very cross. She turned to me and said "Everything is going wrong not only am I flashing my slip to everybody now the flaming car won't start." with that she climbed out of the car and began to spray the engine with easy start. As she walked around to my side of the car I could see her dress has risen up more and more reveling about 8 inches of pure white lace. She climbed back into the car and proceeded to try again cranking the starter and pumping the throttle the lace wriggle about and I could hear the crisp stockings rubbing together. By this time I had a lovely stiff erection. After about another six or seven times she asked me to spray easy start while she turned the key. I said I would so I got out of the car and proceeded to spray the engine. She cranked the engine. I could hear her saying "Come on come on" to the car as she cranked the engine and her lace was so far exposed she might as well have not been wearing a dress. Eventually the car struggled into life. I climbed back into the car and she got out to close the bonnet, all the time she was struggle to hide the offending slip. When she climbed back into the car I said to her "I wouldn't bother about your slip showing as it looks really pretty and sexy." I think she was quit surprised by my comment. She said to me "I just find it a bit embarrassing but if you really like it," at this point she grabbed my hand and place it on the lace. I could feel the lace rubbing against her stockings. We drove all the way to school like this. When I got out I walked around to the drivers door and looked in. The lace was shifting up and down with the vibrations of the engine she said "many thanks for helping me with the there anything I could do for you?" I said "not really but I'm sure you can think of something." The next morning she pushed a small parcel into my school bag "just to say thanks" she said. On returning home I opened the parcel to find the sexy lace slip she had been wearing the previous day. Needless to say, I had many a happy moment with that slip.

"Princess of My Night"
by Randy

A princess came to me
One night in my dreams
I was in such anguish
And she softly made quiet, my screams.

Dressed all in lace,
In crystal white
A slip of a gown
Such a glorious sight!

I felt her kiss
So tender upon my face
She turned to leave
On my arm I felt gently the soft caress of her lace.

I knew my sweet princess was going
Though my heart ached for her to stay
She lightly whispered, "My prince, I will be back  soon
When I hear your screams, when you might have had a bad day"

So I said to her ever so sweetly, "Princess in white, oh lovely princess of my night, until the morning light, good night."

I opened my eyes only to see draped carefully across my arms her lace, all in crystal white.


As Anne stood with her drink, feeling the breeze on her face and the sun on her skin, she still couldn’t believe she had heard the words “Anne, you won!”  Now, only a couple of weeks later here she was, on the deck of a magnificent cruise ship leaving Miami.  She didn’t know anyone on shore waving good bye, but that still didn’t stop her from waving to the strangers wishing friends and loved ones bon voyage as the floating city slowly moved toward the open ocean waters.  And while Anne always heard that cruises were for lovers, the travel agent assured her that she would not be the only single person on the ship.  The agent told her that in fact, about half of the passengers aboard would be single, and there were many activities planned for singles while they cruised the high seas of the Caribbean. 


Anne figured that now they had left port that she should go to her cabin, change into her bikini and start enjoying the sun.  When she arrived she was amazed to see that she had a private balcony on the port side of the ship.  It wasn’t a large balcony, room only for two chairs and a little room between, but nonetheless, it was a balcony.  As she stood there outside her cabin, she began to daydream of being alone there with some handsome stranger she had met on the voyage, sipping champagne and watching the stars.  She fantasized that this romantic stranger would be tall, dark hair, blue eyes, and every bit the gentleman.  Almost like a storybook romance on a ship where two people meet, fall in love and live happily ever after.  Just the thoughts of all this gave Anne a tingling feeling throughout her body.  “Oh, if only” she heard herself whisper.  But, standing here on a private balcony would not be the way to spend her cruise, so she went back inside, changed, grabbed a book and went up to one of the upper decks by the pool.  Once there she got a tropical drink delivered to her chair, slathered on some sun screen and began reading.  At first, the deck was devoid of any life at all, other than the waiter delivering the drink.  But in a short while, others began to filter in, picking their favorite spots to worship the sun and relax.  Within an hour or so, the deck was filled with couples, singles, families, a regular floating marketplace of humanity.


Anne had not noticed anyone special at first, and the chairs to either side of her were still vacant.  She looked over the top of her book every now and then watching for someone to walk up and take one of the chairs, but thus far nobody had.  It was time to turn to her stomach so that her back could get tanned also, and so her front wouldn’t burn.  Anne put more lotion on her body, and stretched to get her back.  As she sat on the side of her lounge chair, reaching awkwardly behind her, it happened, someone did take the chair behind her, next to her.  “Not to sound forward, but could you use some assistance madam?” came a deep masculine voice.  Startled at first, a little embarrassed at her position, Anne looked over her shoulder and saw the biggest green eyes she had ever seen in her life.  “Um, yea, sure, I’d love a little help” she stammered, smiling at the man who was now moving to rub the lotion on her back.  Anne smiled at him, looking over her shoulder as he placed his large, strong hand on the soft, supple skin of her back.  His hand moved slowly and firmly over her back, sliding easily with the lotion lubricating his motions.  “My name is William” he said, “I don’t want you to think a total stranger is rubbing lotion on your back”.  Anne noted a lighthearted tone to his voice, one that was joking a little, but still sincere and respectful.  “I’m Anne, and thanks so much” she replied, turning as he finished.  Anne stuck out her hand to shake William’s, but instead he took her hand and gently kissed the back of it, just like in the old movies.  Anne watched closely as he released her hand.  William had brown hair, or what some might consider dark blonde.  He looked to be of average build, not real tall, not a muscle bound gym junkie, just a normal nice looking guy.  As William looked back into Anne’s eyes she felt herself blush just a bit, then she moved to lay down on her stomach as planned.  Soon, William and Anne were talking like old friends, sharing their stories on how they ended up on the cruise, why they were both alone, what they did for a living, all the stuff that newly acquainted friends discuss.  Anne was surprised to hear that William was on the cruise “alone” from having a woman with him, but was with some friends celebrating one of their 30th birthdays.  After several hours in the intense Caribbean sun, and after several tropical drinks with little umbrellas in them, Anne felt like she needed to move around some.  She asked William if he would like to take a walk and explore the ship, but he told her he was sorry he had to decline.  The group of guys was getting together to do some celebrating soon, and he needed to get a shower before they started.  Feeling a little let down, Anne said her good bye and said that maybe they would see each other around.  She turned, paused, then started to walk away.  She sort of expected William to call out to her, to ask her to stop, to say that he would join her, but no sound came as she walked away.  As she reached the doorway to the inside of the lobby, she reached out to push the glass door open.  It swung open very easy, so easy that Anne looked to see if it had an automatic opener on it.  Then she noticed an arm pushing the door open from behind her… William’s arm.  “Anne, I know you just met me, but would you like to have dinner tomorrow evening with me?”.  Anne felt her heart pound, her cheeks warm, her lips smile.  “I’d ask you tonight, but I really can’t get out of the activities planned for my friend, but after tonight, I’m free the rest of the cruise” William explained.  He continued to tell her how most of the guys had brought along their wives or girlfriends, and how he would love to get to know Anne better.  Anne agreed, and gave William her cabin number, then left.


The following day was more of the same for Anne… lots of sun, lots of breeze, lots of exploring the ship.  She was surprised at how much she was looking forward to dinner with William.  After all, he wasn’t her dream date, but he was charming and they had a lot in common.  Anne found herself so looking forward to her date with William that she ended up back in her cabin well in advance of dinner just to get ready.  When she arrived back and opened the cabin door, Anne gasped as she saw a huge arrangement of tropical flowers sitting in her room.  They were beautiful, brilliant colors of red, yellow, blue, orange.  The exotic smell of the flowers filled the room and spilled out into the hallway as she stood there gazing at them.  Anne walked in, closing the door behind her, and went over to where the flowers were sitting.  She then noticed a card, and opened it.  “Anne, I couldn’t stop thinking about you all last night and today.  I’m really looking forward to dinner.  I made reservations at Delmatico’s at 8:00pm.  I’ll pick you up about 7:45pm.  William”.  Well, he sure knew how to make an impression.  Gorgeous flowers, reservations at the nicest restaurant on the ship, personally escorting her there.  William sure knew what Anne wanted.


Anne took a long shower, washing her long blonde hair, slowly as she imagined what the evening might be like.  She closed her eyes, fantasized about looking across the table into William’s deep green eyes, about the candle light on the table, soft music in the background, all this while she stood there in the shower, the lather from the shampoo slowly running down her body gently caressing her skin.  Funny, she never before noticed the feel of the suds sliding on her skin, but somehow now it was erotic, exhilarating, exciting.  Anne felt them going down her neck, down her shoulders and arms, down her chest and cascading off her ample breasts.  Anne wondered how knowing this guy, this stranger for only such a short time could be having such an effect on her.  Was it the sea air, the fact she was on a cruise, or some spell he was putting on her.  Without knowing it William had turned Anne from a conservative, shy woman to one that was ready to invite him into her room to spend the night on the first date.  Anne was scared, but excited at the same time at the thought of doing something so out of character for her.


As Anne dried herself with the large plush towels provided by the cruise line she continued thinking about William.  She applied ample amounts of body lotion to her now bronzed, soft skin and thought of what to wear for the night.  It had to be special.  Anne went to her dresser, selected a black strapless bra, some black stockings and garter, and a silky black slip.  She pulled her black pumps from the closet and her pearl necklace from the safe inside the closet door.  “Earrings” Anne thought, “I need some earrings!” She had some but they didn’t match the necklace, but they would have to do.  They were long dangling fine silver chains with diamonds at the ends.  Not her first choice, but they nonetheless worked.  As she sat on the edge of the bed and began to pull on the shear black stockings, Anne again began to let her mind wander to William.  The stockings slid easily over her silky smooth skin.  Anne loved the feel of the cool silk stockings on her legs, she loved how they made her feel more feminine, more exotic, more erotic.  Once she got to the tops of her thighs, she savored the feeling of her hand slipping over her flesh toward the clasp of the garter.  Anne smiled, thinking to herself that she had better be careful, she would get herself so aroused that when William knocked at 7:45 on her door, she would end up jumping him right then and there.  This thought almost made her laugh out loud.  Heck, she barely knew him, and here she was assuming he would let her jump him.  Next, Anne put on her lacey bar.  She turned to look in the mirror as she adjusted it just right.  The dainty bra somehow lifted Anne’s large round breasts higher than normal, yet it looked so flimsy and soft.  She admired herself for a moment, the instant cleavage that had appeared, the full round look of her breasts, the soft mounds of flesh pressing out of the top of the black bra, “Perfect” Anne thought to herself.  Next she lifted the shinny smooth slip from the bed.  It was so light and soft that it seemed it could float.  The lights in the cabin shimmered off the thin slip.  Anne lifted it over her head and let it slid down over her outstretched arms, over her breasts, down her hips and legs.  It was like an angel was breathing on her soft, supple skin as the slip fell into place.  As Anne turned and moved, the silky slip softly caressed her skin, sliding over her stomach, up her thighs, over her tiny round ass.  Anne also loved the feel of the slip sliding over the tops of her stockings, that silk-on-silk feel sent wave of excitement racing through her body.  As she opened her eyes to take one more look at herself in the mirror, still thinking of William’s facial expression when she answered the door, Anne noticed that her nipples had become erect now.  She could see them gently raising under her bra, and she imagined what William might think if he noticed them later that evening.  Again, Anne began to smile at how excited she was getting over this one date, this one man.  She pulled her black dress from the closet and stepped into it, then her pumps.  A quick fix of her hair, put on her jewelry, and some lipstick, and she was ready. 


Anne knew the restaurant had a dress code, so she knew that William would also be dressed nice, but when she answered the door to find him in a dark suit, somehow she was surprised at how good he looked.  The suit could have been dark blue, or black, the light was dim and it was hard to tell.  He had on a dark blue oxford shirt with an even darker blue necktie.  While William didn’t have a muscular build in his swim trunks, this suit made his shoulders look wide, his waist thin, and his chest large.  As he looked at Anne he began to smile.  His big green eyes sparkled as Anne looked up at them.  She had gotten exactly the response she had fantasized about all afternoon as she got ready for her date.  William didn’t speak, not immediately anyway, words couldn’t express what beauty he had just found.  Anne could tell by his silence, by his smile, by his eyes that he really liked what he saw, and this only made her more excited.  “Oh my God” William finally muttered, “you are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen”.  Anne blushed lightly, and thanked William for the complement, then paid her own to him.  Finally, William extended his arm and Anne took it, and they were off to dinner. 


As Anne walked, she was still aware of the soft slip caressing her skin and her stockings.  She felt the stockings covering her long legs, she felt the straps of the garters on her thighs, she felt William’s eyes upon her.  Anne couldn’t help but to get more turned on the longer they walked.  When they finally got to the restaurant, they were given a special table along the large windows at the side of the ship.  The sun had just sat not long before, and the sky was on fire with shades of red, orange, purple and blue.  The ocean looked black as night as the sunset took center stage.  William’s eyes looked even brighter and deeper than Anne had remembered, and she couldn’t help but to gaze into them as he spoke.  Champagne started the evening, and continued throughout dinner.  After the entrée, William reached across the table and took Anne’s hand in his.  There was a radiant electricity that flowed between them as they talked and held hands.  It was then that Anne made her first brave move.  Normally very conservative until yesterday, Anne slid her foot from her shoe and began to extend it slowly under the table, searching for William’s leg.  When she found it she watched his eyes as she began to slide her soft stocking covered foot along his leg.  She saw the desire in his eyes build, the fire grow, the romance building.  She felt him squeeze her hand just a bit tighter.  While dinner didn’t take three hours, it wasn’t until after 11:00 that they left the restaurant, Anne holding William’s arm tightly as they exited.  By this time, all of the kids on the ship were nowhere to be found, and many of the couples had retired to their cabins.  There were still those milling around the decks, soaking in the romantic ambiance of the pitch black sky, the brilliant stars, and the shadow of the moon just getting ready to break over the horizon.  “I found a really secluded spot earlier today” William said, “want to see it?  It is in the front of the ship, you can see the water breaking away from the bow as the ship cuts through” he said.  Anne just gave William a look of acceptance of whatever he wanted was fine with her.  So they walked along the starboard side of the deck, past the swimming pools, past the bars, past the disco, past the bridge and to the bow point of the vessel.  It was dark, deserted, it was perfect.

As they stood there watching the moon crest over the distant horizon, Anne felt William’s arms reach around from behind her, softly hugging her and pulling her close to him.  She heard him breath in slowly, deeply as her hair brushed his face.  She imagined his big green eyes closing and savoring the essence of her perfume.  She put her arms on his, and squeezed him tight.  Neither spoke, but only stood there as if entranced by the romantic vista of the sky and sea.  The only sounds seemed to be their hearts beating and the sound of the waves below them breaking as the ship cut through the water.  There was no music, not anyone else could hear anyway, but Anne felt her body swaying gently back and forth as the two of them stood there in the darkness of the Caribbean night.  Minutes, hours, days seemed to pass without registering in Anne’s mind.  This was too perfect to be real, yet it was.  She felt William’s lips touch her neck as he gently kissed her.  She squeezed his arms tighter around her, then turned in them to kiss him on his lips.  She felt her slip sliding over her flesh as she turned against his body.  She imagined having only that thin slip be the only barrier between their bodies, no suits, no shirts, no dress, no bra, just silky slip between them.  As they kissed Anne felt more on fire than ever, she wanted William like she had wanted no man before.  She knew so little about him, yet she knew him better than any man she ever met.  She felt her leg instinctively start to slid up along his, her stocking easily moving over his suit trousers.  William embraced her more tightly than before, and their kiss got deeper and more intense and their bodies pressed together harder. 


“I’ve got some champagne in the little refrigerator in my room” Anne whispered, “and I have a private balcony”.  William smiled down into her eyes as she took his hand and started to lead him to her room.  Once at the door William asked if Anne were sure she wanted to invite him in.  Anne’s only reply, a kiss and a smile.  Once inside, Anne led William to the tiny balcony where only a day earlier she fantasized about making love to some handsome stranger.  William took Anne in his arms and kissed her gently at first, then with more power and intensity.  As they kissed, William backed Anne against the rail and held her tight.  Anne’s leg moved slowly up and down Williams, her hands sliding through his hair, along his neck and face.  Suddenly she wanted him more than anyone she had ever met.  And from the feel of his body throbbing against her as they kissed, he wanted her too.  “I’ll be right back” Anne whispered, “I need to get the champagne”, and she disappeared into the dimly lit cabin.  She pulled the champagne and glasses from the bar, stopped and thought for a moment.  Should she, or shouldn’t she, then what the hell.  With a quick pull of her dress zipper, she was able to let it fall to the floor and step out of it.  Then off with the bra, leaving Anne in only her slip, garter, stockings and pumps.  Anne picked up the champagne and glasses, and walked back to William. 


The champagne never did get opened.  When Anne walked onto the balcony in her slip, William could hardly control his desire.  The entire evening had seemed to be foreplay, arousing their desires to levels they could barely tolerate any longer.  As William put his arms around Anne and his hands caressed her slippery slip, Anne dropped one of the champagne glasses.  It fell end over end into the black waters below, not even a splash could be heard as it disappeared completely.  Anne’s body pressed against William, and the feel of the slip between them was erotic, electric, exhilarating to her.  As she moved she could feel it sliding over her silky smooth skin, sending sensations of pleasure racing through her body.  She was aware that her breasts were heaving and swelling with anticipation, her nipples growing more wanting as they hardened.  Anne’s leg was wrapped around William’s leg, pulling hard against him, feeling him pressing, pulsing against her.  Their lips were engaged in such an intense kiss that Anne could feel them tingling.  Her whole body was ready for William, needing him, wanting him, aching for satisfaction.  Without a word, William swept Anne into his arms and began to carry her inside.  “No, please” Anne said in a soft voice, “ Out her, I want you out here in the night on the sea”.  William put Anne back down, kissed her, and held her tight. 


It must have been 3:00am when Anne finally told William that she was getting cold.  After all, she had lost the slip and stockings long before, and the cool night sea air was chilling her naked body.  William agreed that he too, now naked, was cold, and they retreated to the large bed inside.  Anne and William spent the rest of the cruise together, mostly on the private balcony at night, sharing champagne and moonlight together.


Where It All Began by STEVE                 APRIL'S WINNER
There was a bad boy in my class,
And his name was Dean,
With a ruler he'd hitch up girlie's skirts,
Showing what shouldn't be seen!
There were 2 called Cheryl and Penny,
And in class they were second and first,
And both were incredibly pretty
But Dean, he was the worst!
Now Cheryl wore a big flouncy one
And a petticoat with white lace trim,
And sometimes we caught a glimpse of it,
Just because of him!
Penny was the brightest girl
And she had beautiful dark eyes,
And she wore ordinary school skirts,
That covered up her thighs.
But Dean would sit behind her,
And using the tool I've told you about,
He'd quickly lift her skirt hem up,
And then the teacher would find out.
And Dean would get detention,
But me, I'd had a thrill,
And because of this bad boy's naughtiness,
I expect I always will,
For whenever I see a glimpse of lace,
On stockinged thigh or above the knee,
It always manages to incite my desire,
A slip lover I'll always be!

by Joe

Susan woke up early in the morning and decided to call
off work. She was feeling very sexy and wanted to
take the day to go shopping. She wanted to dress up
and look nice as she was planning to go to the mall in
the big downtown city. She first put on her black
lacy bra and garter belt combination purposely leaving
the matching panties in the drawer. Next her favorite
back seamed black silk stockings. Looking in the
mirror, her long brown hair and slender figure was
well complemented by the black lingerie. She then
looked through her slip collection to find her knee
length black silk slip. The only trace of lace on the
spaghetti strap shiny slip was a centimeter big lacy
trim around the bottom. She again noticed how sexy
she looked in the mirror in her slip and stockings.
Wanting to look professional, she then put on her red
blouse and knee length black skirt. Not quite as sexy
as the slip alone, but she looked stunning. For shoes
she chose her two inch heels over the four inch ones
to convey her conservative side. As she sat down to
slide her heels on, she noticed that her slip was a
bit too long and it peeked out from under her skirt.
No matter she thought, both the slip and skirt are
black and the lace on the slip was too subtle to be
noticed. She looked in the mirror again and checked
the seams of her stockings. They were straight and
she looked and felt very feminine and sexy. She
couldn't help but keep noticing her slip peeking out.
She got really excited at the thought of trying on
shoes at the shoe store and letting the shoe salesman
see her slip peeking out. Even more exciting was
letting her knees "accidentally" open to show him
she left her panties in the drawer at home. Wait a
minute! If her slip is going to be showing anyways,
what if she just wore her slip by itself?????? She
quickly took her skirt and blouse off and examined
herself in the mirror. The slip could truly pass as a
slip dress! Someone would have to examine it closely
to find the subtle lace at the hem! Today she felt
daring and risqué! She changed her bra to a strapless
one and headed out into the world feeling both excited
and nervous at the same time!

Susan's first walk in public dressed only in underwear
was from her car to the train station. It was then
that she realized that her slip may be too thin! The
sun was shining and as she looked down on herself, she
could faintly see her garter belt and stockings
through the slip. Further, she could see the bumps
from the garter belt show with every step she took.
This was too exciting and it was too late to turn back

In the train station, Susan felt better knowing that
it was harder to see through her slip. Not yet
ready to be on display, she sat down and tightly
crossed her legs. She could feel juices of excitement
between her legs. No one seemed to be looking at her
any differently then the usual looks a pretty lady
gets. Susan sat and thought about the excitement that
lay ahead.

The train ride was uneventful stopping at the basement
of the mall. Susan rode the long escalator ride up
and held the hem of her slip tight. She still was not
ready to give anyone riding below a show. Her first
stop would be Nordstrom's to buy shoes.

It was Susan's luck day today! The shoe salesman in
ladies shoes was a well dressed black man, probably
in his thirties. She walked into the department with
excitement and nervously thought to about turning
around. Just then the salesman named Ray asked if
there was something he could help her find. In a
shaky voice of someone standing in the middle of the
store in her underwear, she muttered, "yes, I am
looking for a pair of high heels." She said that she
wanted them high and sexy, but conservative. They
decided on a pair of black four inch thin stiletto
heels. Susan sat down and crossed her legs awaiting
Ray's return with the shoes. Ray returned with
several sizes. He kneeled down in front of her and
pushed a foot stool toward her. Susan uncrossed her
legs and put her right foot on the stool. Ray was too
busy taking shoes out of boxes to see up her "dress"
with this movement. Susan closed her knees together
as Ray slipped her old shoe off. He paused a second
as he slipped the stiletto heel on and Susan noticed
his eyes moved to the hem of her slip with the subtle
lace. She grew moist with excitement wondering if
he realized she was dressed only in her lingerie.
Keeping her knees together, she shifted her left foot
to the stool. She opened her knees a little because
they were now pointed away from his eyes. After he
slipped the stiletto heel on the other foot, Susan
stood up and carefully wobbled to the mirror.
She was not well practiced in walking with thin high
heels. It was enough to be walking in only her
intimates, much worse to fall and show everyone
stocking tops, garter belt and her cleanly shaven
private part. She looked at herself and marveled
about how sexy she looked. She returned to the seat
and told ray that the shoes were a bit too small. She
placed her right foot back on the stool so he could
put on a bigger size. This time, she was a little
careless with her knees. She kept them apart even
though they were pointed right at his eyes. She
noticed his eyes move between her knees and she knew
he saw everything! She was now so wet with excitement
that she couldn't stand it. She wanted badly to feel
herself and relieve the tension. When both shoes were
on, she stood up and again wobbled to the mirror.
This time she almost fell, but caught herself on a
nearby chair. Ray was watching her every move. She
told him that the shoes were perfect and that she
wanted to wear them home to get used to them. After
the transaction was complete at the register, Ray
complimented her on her beautiful dress and asked her
where she purchased it. With nervousness she replied,
"in the lingerie department of this store!" She
quickly ran out of the shoe department and was too
embarrassed to look back at Ray. This time she slipped
on the slick tiled floor and there was no chair to
catch her fall. Up went her "dress." She lay there
with her knees in the air and everything was in full
view. A few people saw and in the distance, she saw
Ray coming to aid her. Susan got up, soothed her slip
down, took her heels off and ran away quickly. She
could not bear the excitement anymore and had to reach

Susan decided she was done shopping for the day so she
went to straight down to the train station. On the
train, she picked the most obscures seat possible in
the back. Although there were many other passengers,
she positioned herself where no one could see her
legs. She then put her hands between her legs and
thought about Ray looking between her legs. Then she
thought of slipping in the store and all the people
that saw her "dress" fly up! She then thought about
lying there totally exposed in the middle of the store
in nothing but her underwear! Susan touched herself
faster, let out a few quiet "ohhhhhh's" and climaxed
several times on the train ride home. She slowly
opened her eyes to find a few of the passengers
looking at her. She grinned at them and thought to
herself, "what should I do on my next day off?" Maybe
one of her bra and panty combinations could pass as a

Washing Machine Dreams by Jay  SEPTEMBER'S WINNER

This is a story about Marcella. She was a lonely
young woman of 29 years, extremely beautiful but still
could never find the right guy. Her dating life had
been very boring as of late. She had a well paying
job and nice friends but still desperately desired Mr.
Right. She was excited about today though because it
was time to do the wash. Marcella was a pretty woman
with nice soft brown hair, pretty blue eyes and a face
to die for. Her body was equally delicious. Her
curves were very sexy and just right. Her legs were
so sexy she should have been a hosiery model. Today
she was dressed in her best suit and couldn't wait for
midnight when she would have the apartment laundry
room all to herself. Her suit looked very good on
her. The jacket was short sleeved and quite snug. It
was a bright yellow color and highlighted her
features. Her skirt was a nice navy blue. It hung
down just over her knees and clung to her hips in a
sexy way. She had on navy blue stockings and yellow
high heels with navy blue trim. She waited and waited
and finally the time came. She grabbed her basket and
went to the laundry room. Just as she had hoped it
was empty. She put her clothes in and started 3
machines. She watched with uncontrollable excitement
as they got going. Then it came time to do what she
had waited for so much all day. She removed her
jacket and was in her sky blue lacey brassiere. She
pushed herself up and sat on a washer as it was going.
She stayed calm and slowly crossed her legs to give
it the perfect contact. She sat in a calm mode as the
vibrations slowly aroused her. Her skirt was too
thick to give her the proper feel. After a few
minutes she reached back and undid her skirt. She
then as the cycle kicked it up a notch slowly slid her
skirt off. the extra vibration in combination with
the sensation of the skirt sliding down her legs made
it all the more intense. Finally her skirt fell to
the floor and she was in her Sky blue slip with a 5
inch lace hymn. She put the lace in her fingers and
gently stroked it. She closed her eyes and began to
fantasize for about 15 minutes while the washer worked
on her. As the feelings grew stronger and stronger.
She began to let out moans and screams. She tried to
keep it down though. Finally She was thinking about
the cute guy down the hall and what if he walked in.
The excitement got stronger and the arousal got
higher. She put her hands over her thighs and began
to rub her slip up and down her thighs. The clinging
feeling of her slip sliding over her stockings proved
to be too much and she went into a state of pure
ecstasy. Her panties and slip got extremely wet and
her screams got louder. Finally it was over and she
opened her eyes. She looked around and more
embarrassed than she had ever imagined possible she saw
the cute guy from down the hall staring at her


I was on holiday, or should I say vacation, as I was in the United States. I had driven into a port city on one of the Great Lakes, I drove up to a hill top viewing area that gave a really good view of the lake. As I turned into the parking area a white limo was in front of me. It parked up at the edge of the steep drop and I pulled over to park on its right-hand side. Just as
I drew level with the rear of the limo, the front passenger door opened and one of the most beautiful women that I have ever seen got out, although I noticed her beauty immediately, what really drew my attention was her short skirt, the wind had caught it and was lifting it up behind.

The view from the hill top was tremendous, but the view on the hill top was out of this world. There was this tall, leggy, blonde standing on the best legs in the history of mankind and her skirt was up, showing her white panties and the white garter belt, that held up her tan, fully fashioned stockings. Lifting up with the skirt was a lacy little slip, the wind was lifting it high enough for me to see that it was a half slip. I thought I had died and gone to heaven. In fact I nearly did meet my maker, as I almost forgot to stop the car. She must have heard the last moment squeal of brakes, but didn't seem to notice me.

I got out and tried to take in the view of the lake, but I was too distracted by this angel with legs. By now a guy had got out of the driver's
seat of the limo and had started to take photographs of her. When they thought I wasn't looking she hiked her skirt up for some stocking top shots. I tried to keep my eyes away but I just couldn't, I did try not to make it look too obvious though.

All too soon they finished and got back into the limo and drove off. By now I had totally lost all interest in the lake and decided to drive down into the town and visit the railroad museum. As I pulled onto the museum car park, there was the limo, with the goddess getting out again, not so lucky with the wind this time. I was scared that they would think I was following them, but, again, they didn't seem to notice me. They went into the museum with me right behind. Once I had got my ticket I went in a different direction to them, I really didn't want them to think I was following them. However, curiosity soon got the better of me and I began to wonder just what
they were up to in a railroad museum. The place was a large building full of old locomotives and rolling stock, from the raised walk way they
were easy to spot. They were stood by an old caboose. They looked around, as if they were checking to see if they were being watched, and climbed up into the caboose. Why were they checking? This needed further investigation. I
quickly made my way to the caboose and now I checked that no one was watching, and then I climbed up the outside to peek in through the window.

WOW!! What a sight met my eyes! The angel was sat in a chair, with her skirt pulled up to show her panties, while the guy was taking photograph after photograph. She was constantly changing pose, playing with the lacy hem of her slip as she sometimes pulled it down to cover her panties and stocking tops, and sometimes pulling it right up to let the photographer get a good close up view of her creamy white panties. All the shots were designed to show her beautiful legs to their best advantage and they certainly looked great, in her tan seamed stockings, that were held by white garter straps that disappeared under into her panties.

Suddenly they stopped and the guy took a careful look out of the door, but not, thankfully the window. Obviously he was checking if the coast was clear, and it must have been, because he picked up a small bag that had been on the floor and gave it to the model. She stood up and placed the bag on the table. Opening it she pulled out a silky black slip, a black garter
belt, some black panties and black stockings. I couldn't believe it, she was going to change her underwear in the caboose!! She slipped off her skirt and top and for a moment was stood there in her white bra, and half slip before sitting on the edge of the table and lifting the hem of her slip so that she could undo her garters. Kicking her shoes off she slid the silky stockings
down her legs and then stood again to pull her slip down and off. Next came her garter belt, which she unclipped and pulled upwards out of her panties. Unfortunately, at this point, she turned her back fully on my window; almost
as if she knew I was watching. Then, back towards me she unclipped and removed her bra

She picked up and shook lose the black full slip. It had a short lace trim at the top and a somewhat deeper trim at the bottom. Pulling it over her head she slid into it like it was a second skin where it touched her body, and an alluring, mystifying, drape where it hung free. Once she had got it comfortably in place she reached down and up under her hem for her white
panties. These she slowly pulled down her long slender legs. The next step was to put on the black deep sided garter belt and this time she had to lift the slip high enough for me to almost see her beautiful behind. She let the slip fall back into place while she bent down and picked up the things that she had removed. As she bent forward, the back of the slip came up, and
knowing that she had nothing under it but a garter belt, I almost lost my grip on the side of the caboose and nearly cried out in alarm. Did they hear me? I couldn't tell, but the show went on.

Now she sat again on the edge of the table and took one of her black stockings. With well practiced and elegant fingers she rolled it quickly up so that she could slide her painted toes into it and, with sensuous slowness
pulled and rolled it up her leg, right to the lacy black hem of her slip. Holding the stocking in one hand, she reached with the other under the slip to find and pull down a garter strap. Now, with the hem of the slip folded back into her lap, she attached the stocking to the garter. Only a few silky folds of the slip protected her modesty. This process was then repeated with the other leg before she stood again and reached behind for the other garter straps. The lady was a perfectionist, because, much to my delight, she spent some time making sure her seams were straight, and all that time she was stood with her back towards me and her slip hitched up behind to the very tops of her legs. Satisfied that all was straight, she let the slip fall back again and picked up the black panties. These she stepped into with surprising elegance and slowly pulled them up over her long black stockings
and eased them into place under her slip. On their journey up her legs I could see that they were made with a shiny satin centre panel and sides of a very delicate and open lace.

All the time the guy had been taking photographs and now she started to pose
for him. Some shots just standing there letting the slip just hang in place, showing off how it both conceals and reveals. Then some more raunchy stuff with the slip lifted. At first just a few inches, so the lace of the hem was in line with the tops of her stockings, the deeper black stocking tops and shiny metal garter clips standing out under the delicate lace. Gradually the hem came higher to reveal her beautiful tanned thighs and finally it came high enough to see the lovely black satin and lace panties.

I knew I shouldn't be watching this, which is why I never took any pictures, but I couldn't help myself looking and I let the images burn into my retina for lifelong storage in my memory. The last image was of this lovely woman standing, almost facing me, with her slip pulled up in front almost to her waist, and hanging down loosely behind, showing her stocking tops, her smooth thighs, her delicate and oh so sexy panties, and her silky slip that
so tantalizingly revealed that she wore no bra, while not actually showing that she wore no bra, and the whole image topped off by a beautiful face under a glorious crown of golden hair. It was the last image because just then a museum worker caught me hanging on to the outside of the caboose.

It took me several minutes to explain away my behaviour. I found that I did not want to inform on my new "friends" inside the caboose so I told him that I was just crazy about trains and that in my country we did not have such
fine cabooses. You may have gathered that I'm only crazy about pretty ladies in nice lingerie, and only have a passing interest in trains, but he took me for real railroad nut. He decided I was just some harmless fool and let me go. I guess my "friends" had made their getaway while the guy was talking to me. As I walked back to my car I could see that their limo had already gone.
I was grateful that I hadn't been seen peeping and wondered just who she was. Then I noticed a small white card stuck under my car's wiper blade. I picked it up, it was a business card, it had a picture of a pair of fabulous female legs and it said, "MERCEDES" ...


  Hi Mercedes,
Here is my story.
I was a young man of 20, still in college and working
for a company for an internship. I worked in an
office setting with others who were professionals. I
was the only intern. Many of the people I worked
around were women. They were older than me and some
were attractive. I was a shy person and had never had
a girlfriend. I didn't talk a whole lot with the
women there especially those I were attracted to.
There was one woman there who was a very attractive
lady named Janice. Janice was a tall woman with very
sexy curves and nice long shapely legs. She was in
her late 20s and had long dark brown hair. I always
liked to see her because she almost always wore a nice
outfit. She was usually friendly to me and said hello
but I was always too shy to respond with more than hi
and sometimes a friendly smile. A few weeks had
passed and I had really grown fond of her. There were
other girls in the office that I found attractive too
but Janice seemed to pay me more attention so she was
my favorite. One day she and I ended up in the break
room alone. She was able to get me to talk a little
bit to her. I had a good feeling that she may like me
so I was somewhat and nervous. The next few days she
flirted with me quite a bit and I began to catch on,
and occasionally flirt back. One day she was looking
very sexy. She had on a pink ruffled blouse, which
she filled out very well. It looked very sexy on her.
You could see the lace of her bra cups pressed up
against the blouse. Plus she had on a tight white
knee length skirt. It really showed off her sexy hips
when she walked. Then she had on a pair of light white
stockings and pink heels. I caught stares at her all
morning. I walked by her sitting down and she had her
legs crossed. I looked at them and tried to see up
her skirt but to no avail. I walked by her and without
even looking up she asked, "Jay, Is my slip showing?"
My face turned red with embarrassment. "uh,... No" I
answered. "Good, that is so embarrassing," she said.
Then a little later I kept noticing a lot of girl in
the office would smile and chuckle at me. I didn't
know why. About an hour before it was time to go I
walked into the break room and I heard noise and
laughter. When I got in it was Janice and some others
and it quickly got silent. She said hi and they
laughed a little. I responded an walked out.
Something was up. Then when it was time to go I
waited a little and left a little late. I got on the
elevator alone, everyone had left. As it closed I
heard high heels clicking rapidly and suddenly it
reopened. It was Janice and she got on. She smiled
at me. "Hi Jay" she said. She looked at me in a way
I had never been looked at before. She was trying to
intimidate me and it was working. She asked I had
worked hard and I said yes. She began massaging my
shoulders briefly and it felt great. She then walked
over and stopped the elevator between floors. "Oops
looks like we are stuck" she said with a smile.
"Let's make this wait a good one," she said. She out
her hands on my shoulders this time in front of me.
And she touched my face, asking me if it felt good.
She said how cute she thought I was and all that. I
told her how pretty she was. I was more nervous than
ever before. "Close your eyes" she said softly. I
did. She then put her hands on my stomach and I
started breathing hard. Then I felt a hand on my
belt. She slowly unfastened it. I couldn't believe
it. Then she slowly unzipped and unbuttoned my
slacks. She then let them drop to the floor. I felt
chills going up and down my spine. "Ooh, nice
boxers," she said softly. I had on silk white boxers
with red hearts. She put her hands on the sides for a
second and it felt so smooth. "open your eyes," she
said. I did and then almost immediately I heard the
"DING!!" It confused me. Then I realized what
happened. She started it back up while my eyes were
closed. I looked down right as the door opened. She
had her foot on my slacks so there was no pulling them
up. I looked up and saw in horror about 6 or 7 women
from the office right outside. I don't know if it was
my exposed state or what but it seemed like they were
all the pretty ones too. They laughed and woohed and
made silly comments. Then finally after what seemed
like an hour of total humiliation Janice let go of my
pants and I pulled them up. Then they all applauded
her after she stepped of the elevator. I don't know
what was worse the humiliation of being seen in my
boxers by half of the women I worked with or the
disappointment of thinking Janice liked me. Luckily it
was the weekend or I don't think I would have showed
up the next day. I got teased to no end by the girls
that day. Then I had one thing to do, embarrass Janice
as much as possible. I wanted to make her cry with
humiliation. She often gave me a superior smile with
a half hearted hello. The next day she was dressed
extremely sexy. She had on a sky blue tight sweater.
It looked so good on her curves. She had on a black
straight skirt that came down to her knees and a pair
of nude stocking. All followed by a pair of black
high heels. My revenge plot quickly turned back to
lust when I saw her. I still got upset when I saw
her. She was sitting again with her legs crossed like
before. I looked and noticed that her black lacey
slip was peaking out from under her skirt. I got
chills from the sight. I tried to embarrass her.
"Janice your slip is showing" I said. I should have
known better. "I'm not wearing a slip, I'm wearing
silk Undershorts," she fired back. She and two other
girls started laughing at my expense. I got more and
more frustrated as I couldn't think of a good revenge.
Then at the end of the day she called me into her
office. I went. "Jay I'm sorry about the other day,
I just wanted to make the girls laugh and I'm sorry if
I embarrassed you. I think you are really cute
though. Let me make it up to you." She said. I was
not buying that much. She was sitting there and
crossed her legs. Her skirt was raised up about an
inch above her knees. She reached down and raised the
hymn up a little more. Her black lace was exposed. I
completely lost all of my revenge. She grabbed my
hand and put it on her silky slip. It blended in with
her skirt. If not for the lace it would have been
unnoticible. It was so smooth. Then I slid it down
and felt her smooth stockings. We didn't say a word.
She could tell how much her slip turned me on. She
stood up and undid her skirt and slid it off her body.
She looked so sexy in her slip I could have died. I
began to stroke it as she undid my pants and slid them
down to my ankles. I was as hard as a rock. She then
took off her slip and had on a sexy pair of lacey
black panties and garter belts. She then opened the
fly on my boxers and did something I never could have
imagined. To keep it clean she wrapped the slip
around it and then stroked me till I climaxed. It was
the most pleasurable experience I had ever had. We
had a strictly physical relationship for the rest of
my internship, and it was absolutely incredible, all
of it. That first experience was the best though.
I'll never forget her.

Stripped to Her Slip In Public

My wife and I were headed to my 25th year class reunion. It was being held at a downtown hotel. My wife and I had stopped to play tennis on our way down to the reunion, so she had to change clothes from her skirt and blouse to a dress. Frequently when we do play tennis my wife will remove her skirt and play in her slip, but that didn't happen today. We drove downtown and parked across the street from a downtown university. It was about 7:00 PM, but being the middle of July it was still very bright outside.

When I found an open parking meter I pulled in and parked. I then had my wife get out of the car and stand on the sidewalk. There was about an eight foot wide grass strip between the sidewalk and the curb. I had my wife remove her tennis shoes and hand them to me. I put her shoes in the back-seat of our car. Next I had her take off her skirt and hand it to me. There is nothing sexier than watching your lover undressing in a very public place. As she carefully stepped out of her knee-length denim skirt her bright white slip, with a two-inch lacey hem, came clearly into view. My pretty 40-something wife was now standing in her stockinged feet, with her slip on display from her hips down to just above her knees.

Traffic passed by occasionally, but my wife's slip display was hidden behind our car, even though she was standing about ten feet from the car. Next I asked her to remove her blouse and hand it to me. She hesitantly started unbuttoning the white blouse from top to bottom. Once the blouse was fully unbuttoned she hesitated a minute before she slowly slid it off her shoulders and pulled it down her arms. The lacy bodice of her full white slip hid her 36B bra. The mother of my five kids really started to blush, from forehead, down over her nearly bare shoulders, right down to her semi-exposed cleavage as she handed me her blouse. Here she was, standing in the middle of our downtown, in her full white slip.

I placed the blouse in the car and brought my blushing beauty her black two-inch pumps. She placed them on the ground and stepped into them. I wished I could have taken her to the reunion just as she was, slip, hose and heels, but I knew she'd object. Before I got her dress out of the car I asked her to snug up her hose. She was wearing suntan colored thigh-highs, so she raised the hem of her slip high enough that the crotch of her white panties came into view as she deliberately tugged up the top of each stocking and smoothed them over her thighs.

I took my time getting her dress out of the car, thoroughly enjoying the sight of my beauty standing so exposed in such a public location. As I got the blue dress out of the car I stood in front of her and handed it to her. She quickly slipped it over her head and tugged it down in place, hiding her slip from view. However, I didn't let her close the zipper in the back of her dress. We still had to walk about a mile to the reunion, so I had her walk with the zipper wide open. This way I could walk beside her with one had placed solidly on her slip clad bottom as we walked through downtown. When we got to the hotel I relented and slowly pulled the zipper up her back, hiding her pretty slip as the zipper made it's way up to her neck. I took my pretty, properly dressed wife into the reunion, and nobody knew she had just been stripped to her slip on the sidewalk only a few minutes earlier.








Sally and I had worked at adjacent work stations for about two years. We had
become quite good friends. I thought she was very attractive but I knew that
she wasn't attracted to me, however I was happy just being friends. She had
a tendency to dress for comfort rather than for looks; which is fine in our
job where you only talk to the customer and you are never seen, but it was
nice to see her on the occasions that she did dress up. Like the day we both got fired.

Sally came in wearing a black two piece business suit and with a few inches added to her height by her heels. I guess she was going somewhere after work, maybe an interview for another job, which, in the circumstances, wasn't a bad idea. I noticed that her white blouse, which peeked out of the front of her jacket was silky and trimmed with a lot of lace, in fact, it looked
like a slip. Now I have had a thing about slips for as long as I can remember, certainly from the time that I realized that girls were different
to guys. Her legs were wrapped in dark nylon with seams running down the backs of her legs. Could they be stockings!? I told her that she looked great. I told her that I liked the blouse. "Oh, it's not a blouse, it's my slip."

Wow!! I started to tell her about this thing I had about slips, I knew she would find it amusing, but she wouldn't make fun of me for it. As we were talking she dropped her pen, down on the side away from me. As she lent over in her chair to reach the pen she turned half away from me and stretched down, as her thighs rose off her chair, her skirt rode up behind, Yes!! They
really were stockings. The problem was, I didn't just think, Yes!! They
really are stockings, I actually shouted out, "Yes!! They really are stockings!"

She looked at me with contempt. She sat square in her chair and pulled her skirt up so that I could see the lacy hem of her slip just covering the top of her stocking. The dark nylon and the bump of the suspender button where clearly visible through the smooth white silk that was drawn tight across her thigh. "Does this actually excite you?" she asked.
"To be truthful Sally, it's driving me wild!"
"Well maybe I should pull my skirt back down; for my own safety," she teased. As she slid her bottom forward in her chair, exposing even more of the smooth silk. I was about to say that she could pull her skirt all the way down, down to the floor, but she saved me from saying too much too soon by suddenly sitting up straight and pulling the skirt back to where it
should be, and no further, and saying primly, "I think that's enough of that!"

We turned back to our work, by my heart wasn't in it and I found it difficult to concentrate. Sally too, wasn't concentrating, although to look at her you would think that she was so engrossed in her work that she hadn't realized that her skirt had ridden up again and the stocking tops were on view once more. As she reached for things on her desk she would wriggle her bum round
to work her skirt up higher. Obviously she had found the earlier "slip show" more of a turn on than she would admit and now she was in full tease mode. I pretended not to notice. She "accidentally" showed some more upper thigh and silky slip. Still I showed no interest. I could tell that this was really bugging her.

Eventually my lack of interest got to be too much for her and she swung her chair around to face me while rocking back and raising her knees to the height of her face and, at the same time, opening her legs!! "Do you like my panties?"
she asked.

"Not 'arf!!" I replied, swinging my own chair to face her. They were white and silky with a lace trim and a perfect match for the slip, which was providing a soft feminine frame to this wonderful view of panties, stockings and suspenders. She ran her fingers over the front of the panties and said,
"Look, my panties match my slip." I was looking!! Her fingers slipped over the smooth material and hooked under at the side. As she stroked herself I nearly exploded. She had got herself so worked up that she had forgotten
that we were at work and that the boss, or anyone else could walk in at any moment. She had me under her spell and that was all that mattered to her now.

She stood up and reaching down to its hem, she slowly, oh so slowly, eased her skirt up, all the way to her waist. Then she did the same with her slip, pulling it slowly up to uncover the tops of her stockings. I just sat silent and transfixed. I was trying to store every detail in my memory. Her panties were fully exposed now and she turned her back to me before bending forwards
from the waist. The silky material of her panties stretched tight across her exquisite bottom. My jaw was so slack that my tongue was reaching the floor. She wriggled her hips, I was moaning with delight as her buttocks swayed under the screen of shiny silk.

Her next move was to stand up straight again and turn back towards me. She smoothed her skirt back into place and started to unbutton her jacket. I have no idea if she had ever visited any "places of erotic entertainment" or whether she was just a natural, but she sure knew how to strip in the most seductive and tantalizing manner. As the jacket opened I gasped as I
realized that she wore no bra under that clinging, unruffled, lustrous, slip. Her own excitement was obvious as her nipples stood out beneath the material like chapel hat-pegs. Once the jacket hit the floor, she started to
unfasten her skirt and slid it down her thighs to reveal the whole of the slip and the lace of the hem that just covered her stocking tops.

Kicking the discarded skirt clear with her high-heeled foot, she began to dance around the room, bending and stretching, and spinning around so that the slip flew up to expose her thighs and the naked flesh between stocking
tops and panties. I was now paralyzed, totally incapable of movement. Then she stopped, right in front of me, and, gathering the slip at her waist, she inched the hem upwards with an exquisite and infinite slowness until her
panties were fully revealed, only a few short inches from my face.

By now I was in grave danger of forgetting to breathe. She held the slip up for about a minute to let me drink in all the detail of her lingerie, before letting it drop back into place. Now she turned her back on me and reaching up under the slip she began to remove her panties. Again it was all done slowly and carefully, but she was unable to avoid giving me the odd glimpse
of her beautiful bottom. As she stepped out of the panties she turned back
towards me. What would happen next?

What happened was our boss walked in at that moment. Now, I know what we were doing was not really permissible on the firm's time and that we should have been paying more attention to our work, but I think instant dismissal was going a little far, even if we are, or rather were, air traffic controllers.

Well. All I can say is if Ben & Jerry's or Bluebell could come up with a
French Silk Pie half as tasty as your set by the same name, the world
would be a better place! I think this was one of your many, many bests!
Loved the sexy slip, the appliquéd garter belt and the full-fashioned
stockings in a lovely brown shade. And of course, the woman bedraped in
all that finery continues to be the modern equivalent of Helen of Troy,
"The Face that Launched a Thousand Ships." Although in your case
Mercedes, it would have to be changed to "The Face that Launched a
Thousand Slips!" Best regards, Tanker.



   By Tanker

One of my favorite authors is Rudyard Kipling, although an affinity for his poetry is not considered politically correct these days since the critics consider him nothing more than a jingoistic Victorian poetaster. Well, it takes all kinds.

One of my favorite Kipling poems - outside of his marvelous Barracks Room Ballads - is a rather risqué one that deals with the various women in his life, ranging from courtesans to countesses. And, the refrain after each feminine type is the same: "And I learned about Women from Her!"

In my case, I learned the most about women from Helen.

It was in the mid-1950s and I had just been graduated from the local liberal arts college and had two months on my hands before reporting to Fort Benning and the infantry officer basic course.

A family friend asked me to spend those two months working at his women’s shoe store since he was short a salesperson or two. Since I loved seeing women in lingerie, stockings and high heels, and had sold shoes before while in high school, I took the job. It was a great opportunity to indulge my fantasies and avoid my stepmother’s lengthy "Honey Do" list of yard projects.

Helen was the store’s cashier.

She was a striking woman of about 40, a bit plump, but with an erect, graceful carriage that seemed to add inches to her medium height, a mane of auburn hair, huge blue eyes that reminded me of fields of native Texas bluebonnets in the Hill Country and a complexion that was the color of the purest honey. She wore the most interesting perfume, a scent that was both old-fashioned and utterly sensual. I later learned that a woman chemist friend made it for her and like everything that surrounded Helen, she made it hers and hers alone.

She was married to a senior sales executive of one of the shoe company’s whose lines we carried. They lived on the shores of the town’s lake.

She was quite successful at what we called "add on" sales - talking customers into buying stockings or gloves or matching handbags to go with their new shoes as she totaled their bills. Her low contralto voice seemed to charm all those who came around her, including me.

She was fascinating. On breaks, she would tell fascinating stories of her days as a traveling model after an injury ended her professional dancing career in New York. She modeled shoes at trunk shows and met her husband while modeling his company’s line of shoes in New York and Chicago.

After being around Helen for a short time, the young college women I was then dating appeared by comparison to be awkward and unfinished. They wore their hair in ponytails or gamine cuts while Helen’s auburn tresses were styled in sophisticated chignons or French twists. Their perfume ran to drug store brands or mass market scents that assailed the nose.

Helen’s delicate scent did not assail, but mystified; turning both male and female heads when she passed as if her perfume had been pressed from some mystical and addictive flower in the Garden of Eden.

She was always a lady; never vulgar or overblown. Yet her aura was totally seductive - I was amazed at the sensations she aroused without ever openly flaunting her many, many charms. You could lose yourself in her eyes while talking about the most mundane topics.

And when she moved, her lingerie and stockings gave off muted swishes and tiny rasps beneath her stylish dresses and suits that made the hair rise on the back of my neck. To me, she was the very essence of Cleopatra, Aphrodite and Helen of Troy. I was fascinated by her seductiveness, but because of her sophistication, her married status, and her age - I was 22 - I had no thought of anything other than friendship.

Besides, my sexual experiences had been those early, awkward fumbling experiences in parked cars and sleazy motels and I was sure my sexual naiveté would not be appreciated by a sophisticated, charming woman like Helen. To me, she was unobtainable.

I was wrong. She sought me out to be her lover and wrapped me in a brief liaison that was as unusual as it was memorable. I never really knew why she picked me. Perhaps it was because I was so callow and she decided that I needed to learn about women from an expert.

We had worked late one night taking inventory. When we were finished, we all gathered in the break room for a smoke before heading home. I felt dirty and sweaty from handling all the dusty boxes of shoes in the stock room, but except for a tiny smudge of dust on her chin, Helen looked like she had just stepped from a bandbox.

She asked if I would mind following her home because her husband was traveling and she was anxious about arriving unaccompanied at their fairly remote lake home that late at night.

Of course, I agreed and drove her to her car, and then followed her to her home. I escorted her to the door and turned to leave.

"Come in and have a beer or a glass of wine before you leave," she said, and I followed her inside.

Once we were seated and I was taking that first long, satisfying draught of ice-cold beer, she dropped the bomb.

"I want you to be my lover," she murmured, her blue eyes seeming to fill the space around us. "But, there are some things to which you must agree."

I stared at her open-mouthed, unbelievingly. "When you leave for the Army, our affair must also end," she continued. "I love my husband and do not want to divorce him, nor hurt him. Therefore, I must ask that you do not call me, nor give me gifts, nor write me during our affair. It must end when it must end, for while I want you desperately as a lover, we can never be more that. Can you do that?"

I remember looking at her sitting beside me on the couch, stunned and trying to make sense of her words. And then I understood that this was THE chance of a lifetime. This was the opportunity men had lusted for since the beginning of time: to be intimate with the very essence of the female being. My feelings were not centered on possessing this marvelous creature - no one could ever "possess" her - but on the realization that for me, our couplings would be an experience of a life force made flesh.

But could I end it when it was time to head for Fort Benning? Yes. This was to be my initiation into adult passion, a tour that would teach me about women, passion and how to respect both.

"I agree," I croaked. And she smiled, a smile that wrapped me in bliss. "Then come for dinner tomorrow night and we will begin," she said and then leaned over and kissed me - a kiss I remember to this day because it was as delicate as a dragonfly alighting on a pond, yet it shook me to my core.

Somehow, I got home and through the next day. Finally, it was time.

She came to the door in an ivory peignoir that swept the floor, her auburn hair down and tumbling around her shoulders. As she moved, I could see that she also had on black stockings and high-heeled bedroom mules. Her garter clips made tiny bumps through the filmy peignoir as a passing breeze pressed its fabric against her thighs.

I don’t remember much else about that night because I was in sensory overload, awash in sensations and passions I never knew I could harbor.

The room was softly lit by scores of candles, a gentle lake breeze blowing through the open windows cooled us and made the candlelight flicker like heat lightning in the distance. On the table, was a light supper of wine and soft classical music was playing on the radio.

I remember we talked and laughed through the supper and wine, but I cannot recall what was said and suddenly we were embracing and the peignoir fluttered to the floor and Helen was searing a matching ivory slip that outlined every curve in gleaming nylon and highlighted her body’s secret mysteries in cobwebs of lace.

Up until that moment, I had not considered slips as instruments of seduction, but rather as obstacles that must be either removed or bypassed to reach the Prime Objective. But as with everything about Helen, that slip, and the others that followed during our seductive encounters, added new erotic sensations that remain with me to this day.

I can still savor the feel of her stiffening nipples through the soft lace, the warmth of her flank through the smooth ivory nylon and the slight pulls and hitches as the delicate material snagged on my hands’ calluses. Coupled with that was the feeling of her scented fullness against my body and the unbelievable sensations of her kisses - delicate and soft and demanding.

Somehow, I found myself naked and in her arms in her bed, luxuriating in the feel of that nylon expanse from head to toe. And then, through some sleight-of-hand I have yet to understand, the slip suddenly and mysteriously vanished and with another seemingly unconscious little movement of her body, we were joined.

I literally melted into her. It wasn’t anything at all like I had experienced in my earlier encounters. There was no sense of penetration, just a convergence with her at the molecular level. I could feel our hearts beat and our blood rush and her gentle, slow moves were echoed in my nerves and veins. I felt like I was swimming in her essences and she in mine. At that moment, I learned the meaning of total surrender. I had no ego, ambition, pride or masculinity. I had given them all to her and she had answered in kind. I think I fainted with the ecstasy of that moment because the next thing I recalled was becoming aware of the room’s soft candlelight and the lick of a breeze on my superheated skin. It was as if I had returned to earth from Arcturus, bearing the secrets of the Universe.

I don’t recall ever seeing her totally nude during our affair. As we courted and kissed, seemingly for hours on end, her warm breasts, puckered nipples, soft stomach or lovely auburn-tufted sex would suddenly appear, then disappear back beneath the sheer veil of one of her many slips or nightgowns she wore so sensuously. As if by magic, they would reappear beneath my lips or fingers, followed shortly by that wonderful bodily liquefaction as we again melted together.

Almost a half-century later, my memories of Helen are of her small, beige-pink nipples veiled by the Alencon lace of a wispy slip; a glint of coppery pubic hair disappearing beneath a rose-pink peignoir, or the gleam of candlelight on a stocking as she made that unbelievable little move that joined us together. I remember her sighs and the delicate blush that mantled her cheeks and breasts when she peaked.

Sex with Helen was a timeless, totally sensory event, a feast of smells, touches, the almost inaudible susurrations of nylon or silk slipping across thighs or hips or breasts, the tastes of her and those blinding connections at the basic human level. I have never since experienced such a totality of erotic experience.

Dreamily, the calendar moved to our inevitable parting and I walked away from our last night together with no regret. It had been unbelievable, but it was over and I was left with memories of that single event in my life printed into the very fabric of my being.

My last memory of her is her standing in the door as that final dawn broke across the lake, her delightful scent in my nostrils and that marvelous white peignoir fluttering in the gentle morning breeze, its bodice dented by her erect nipples, an errant gust pushing aside its skirt to reveal a delightful leg in a dark, sheer stocking.

We never met again. Even today, the memory of her trademark perfume will suddenly fill my mind and that is a true joy. Like Kipling, I "learned about Women from Her."

God grant us all such a teacher!

The Little Slip.

We all know those famous "photos of history". You know the ones...Pearl Harbor, Enola Gay and the H
Bomb, London in the Blitz, the Moon Walk...there are a few that merit inclusion in the "World's Top Ten"

But, the most famous one of all was nothing to do with the great affairs of men. It was of a pretty girl standing
over a pavement vent with her skirt blowing up. That picture of Marilyn Monroe at least proves that humanity
gets it's priorities right sometimes! Only one thing was missing. To the grief and dismay of thousands of
miserable men, she wasn't wearing stockings and suspenders, or garters, as you in the US of A would have
it. How much more naked and girly and "revealed" she would have looked if she had been wearing them;
even though doing so would have meant wearing more clothes than less.

Girls who are skilled practitioners of the use of stocking tops as a weapon know all too well of their lethal
effect on whichever man this weapon is directed at and also of the fact that, in a purely localized sense, it
gives them an H Bomb effect no less than that of Enola Gay the plane. It is devastating. The stocking top
and little piece of garter strap (perhaps) is the ultimate indicator of availability, sin, excitement and adventure.
That apparently innocent and mistaken display of a just a little bit of stocking top enables the nice girl to play
the "tart's card" whilst maintaining the "good girl image" and it's a recipe that no man can resist.

Just as lethal is the clingy and rather short slip with the lacy hem that struggles valiantly and quite
unsuccessfully to cover those same stocking tops and which, more deliciously still, also fails to conceal the
garter straps properly, whilst clinging indecently to breasts, hips, thighs and bum. The silk slip or chiffon silk
slip covers everything but nothing at all. Good girls wear slips which make them into bad girls and that is very

If Marilyn was the queen of the blown up skirt, the queen of the slip and flagrantly revealed stocking top was
the French actress Jeanne Moreau. Clever, articulate and a "serious" actress, she seemed to spend most of
her films discussing politics in her slip, stockings and garters. No wonder French men regarded her as
"serious Mistress Material". They cant forget it years later! Nor should they.

Sadly, the slip or half slip hasn't been "de rigeur" or even a little bit fashionable for over twenty years. "It's for
oldies", "it's for fuddy duddies" is the common refrain, though the real reason has more to do with centrally
heated offices and nice warm cars. The girls don't need them, so the girls don't wear them.

But, that's not always the case. Right at the end of the eighties, my wife and I were back in London after a stint
working overseas and living with her sister while we house hunted. I was very busy and quite OK but she
was in a house that wasn't hers and bored to tears, so she took a job in a pub which was one of those
classic, booming, wealthy, working class pubs frequented by the various builders, car dealers and gangsters
who made fortunes ripping off London's wealthy and pretentious.

Katrina loved working there, even if the money was lousy. The sheer entertainment made it worthwhile and
she enjoyed the mystery she generated to why such a smart "up market", "posh" "bit of crumpet"
(that's London talk) should be working behind the bar.

"Are you coming to the pub on Friday night to watch me, Angela and Petra do our Go Go thing?" she asked
one November evening as I sipped my gin and tonic before dinner. I didn't have the faintest idea what she
was talking about and said so. Every now and again all of England gets into total fervor over the sufferings
of this starving group or that famine hit country and raises vast sums of cash from an even vaster series of
crazy charity stunts with the aim of aiding whoever it is in trouble. It's all worthy stuff and often enough, good
fun. This was "Aid for Ruritania" or something and the "Go Go Dancing" was what Katrina and her mates
behind the bar were going to do as "their bit" to raise cash in the pub.
Since Go Go dancing was hopelessly "naff" (London talk again) and dated, I wasn't very interested but grumpily
said "Yup, OK" and ignored the entire saga.

But, on the Friday night I wasn't ignoring anything. Quite the reverse in fact. I was lying on the bed watching
Katrina get dressed for her "event" and getting a little worried. I was also getting a little excited. Katrina, like all
fashion conscious girls is a total coquette, tease and show off...within limits. But, I was beginning to wonder
what these limits were.

She was prancing cheerfully round the bed room getting ready in her best black seamed
favorites with the double tops, black high heels and suspenders and looking absolutely gorgeous with her
bare titties bobbing up and down as she did things. She hates bras.. And her panties were gorgeous too.
Little white clingy chiffon ones with ruffles which clung lasciviously to her gorgeous bum. That bothered me.
White panties with black stockings? That wasn't her style. With Katrina everything had to either match or be
"appropriate". Gorgeous she looked in this mixture of black and white but she also looked like a very
expensive and shameless little tart and that was both very exciting and very worrying, because it plainly wasn't
just intended for me to enjoy.

"I like the dress", I said sarcastically and defensively as she slid a white, very slinky, short, silky and
revealing number down over her body and smoothed it out. I was appalled. It was beautiful but left her
stocking tops almost totally revealed and showed just about everything else if only by suggestion. "It isn't a
dress, it's slip, you moron" she laughed. Should I have known? Well, maybe so, but no girl had worn anything
like that for years and when they had, they were never as short and revealing as this little outrage.
Nonetheless, I was very relieved and settled back to ogle her at my leisure as she moved around her doing
her makeup, nails and all the other girly things that girly girls do to keep themselves happy and us too, of

As to the reason for this sudden re introduction of the "pre historic" slip into modern London couture and
charity go go dancing circles I was soon to find it out. "We've decided to auction ourselves in turn on a per
dance basis" Katrina announced "and then once that little novelty has worn off, we are going to auction off our
dresses and then start off all over again dancing without them on to really get the cash in...and since I am not
dancing for anyone with my titties bared, I am wearing a slip and so are the others; smart eh?"

I thought it was smart all right and also a fiendish example of female cunning since the dozy reprobates in
the pub would all pay over the odds to get the girls dresses off for the dances to come because they were too
dim to realize that slips had been tactically re introduced by Katrina and the other girls. "You cunning bunch
of little bitches" I said. She sniggered, well pleased with herself.

But, I wasn't very keen on the idea. The idea of Katrina dancing in a pub, albeit for charity, in the clingiest of
clingy chiffon silk slips, with her titties wobbling in the flimsy material and her stocking tops on show
bothered me a lot. I loved the idea in one way but I didn't want others to enjoy what I enjoyed. I muttered
something about that. "Don't be so silly" she laughed in reply. "You've been with me hundreds of times on the
beach when I've been totally naked except for a teeny bikini bottom with hundreds of people looking at me".
And of course, she was right, I had and what she was up to on this Friday night meant showing nothing at all
in comparison. What could I say?

She stepped into a little black taffeta dress with flouncy skirts which was far too short because the designer
had assumed that panty hose or tights would be going with it. The slightest movement the wrong way meant
Katrina's stocking tops were provocatively on show and a bit of bare thigh too if she was really careless.
When I pointed that out I was curtly informed "Good, all the more for the refugees, stop being a grump and do
the hooks up at the back for me". Despairing, I gave up quibbling, did as asked, helped her on with her coat
and within minutes we were walking up the road to the pub.

Loud cheers greeted Katrina, not me, of course, as we walked in and even more cheers as the other two
girls walked in within seconds, with their own boyfriends looking equally unsettled to myself.

After about ten minutes I was lost in the uproar and more cheerful. It's wonderful what a couple of stiff
whiskies will do for the nerves. Katrina and the girls were all serving like mad and giving smart answers to all
the quips and suggestive but good natured jokes.

Next thing, Fat Humphrey the Publican is announcing something to all and sundry; particularly the sundry, in
fact. It's worth mentioning that in an English pub there is rarely if ever any service at the tables and most
people anyway stand around the bar, if there is room. " Ladeeeeez and Gentlemen " intoned Humphrey,
wreathed in smiles, because he knew that for every pound the Refugees would get he was going to get three
" tonight the lads and I are serving behind the bar and Katrina, Petra and Angela are serving at the tables".
Loud and raucous cheers greeted this as the bar emptied and a veritable mob headed for the tables, which
in an English pub are usually half empty. "And", he went on "table service will carry a surcharge or ten percent
which will go the to the homeless, miserable refugees because you 'orrible, gawping, ogling lot deserve to
pay through the nose for your 'orrible 'abits". Hissing, booing, laughter and roars greeted this particular

It was a skilful move. The English cant resist the naughty, the stocking top or the risqué and he knew it. And it
worked. Out of the corner of my eye and trying hard to be nonchalant, I noticed Katrina teetering around in her
high heels carrying tray after tray off drinks and and skillfully bending over so as to show just enough stocking
top to the occupants of the next table so that they too would demand yet more drinks. I believe this is called
direct marketing.

I think the dancing started about ten. The pork like Humphrey had announced his auction system and it
ended up with various groups of tables bidding separately. It was going well because the girls had done at
least a five or six records between them, raising about a hundred quid (pounds to you Americans and non
Cockneys), which wasn't bad. Katrina had done the best; or her stocking tops had. Dancing on top of a big
pub table ensured that the charity minded drinkers had a very good view indeed. Was this where table top
dancing started? I doubt it.

Then there was a rest with "normal service" for about half an hour before the beaming Humphrey, once
again, clambers up on the little pub stage and announces the dress auction prior to what he called "another
exclusive display of exotic and provocative in house entertainment for your plezzzzure ladeeeez and
gentuurrllllmen" followed by another plea to "bid generrrrouosssssleeee".

They did bid but not enough so for Angela and Petra. But they bid very generously indeed for Katrina..over fifty
pounds. It was those stockings and suspenders that made sure of that. "Come on Stockingtop" one of the
bidders bawled when she graciously accepted the offer. Let's have that little dress off". She smiled and
ignored that. Then the music started..Bad Girls by Donna Summer. She looked very bad indeed indeed.
Slowly the dress came off.
As she peeled the top down it became clear to all..she wasn't naked underneath, she was wearing a slip!
Horror and disappointment showed on some faces, fascinated grins on others. A hail of jokes, roars of
"we've been done" and howls of laughter broke out. It was a comedy and Katrina couldn't stop laughing as she danced.

But, she didn't disappoint them at all. As Donna bashed out the words to Bad Girl, Katrina danced like a very
bad girl indeed. She didn't show anything, she didn't have to. She wriggled around to the music on the stage,
then got up onto a table again and all the time wobbling her breasts provocatively inside her slip so that they
looked as if at any minute they would pop out of the flimsy material. I was loving every minute myself. One
doesn't see one's wife dance like that at home and it wouldn't work if she did.No audience! No atmosphere!
No showing off! One minute she was wobbling her breasts, the next minute she was leaning forward so they
hung down almost bared so everyone could have a good look...almost. I remembered her words about near
nudity on the beach and didn't worry apart from the fact that I noticed her nipples were standing out through
the flimsy chiffon rather a lot. "Must be the cold", I told myself. It was boiling hot in the room.

When the first record finished, they wanted three more dances and she raised yet more cash. By now she
was getting braver and showing her bum and panties off. At one stage, she was brazenly dancing with her
slip tucked up around her waist with those shameless white panties, which concealed virtually nothing,
completely on show. The crowd was laughing and cheering away and those cries traditional to the Brits
under such circumstances of "get 'em off" were ringing out. Katrina wasn't "getting 'em off" and said so.
Katrina was tired and wanted a break. Disappointed moans and groans all round. I was just relieved.She sat
down for a few minutes and then began to serve at the tables again. That went down well. No girl in world
history was ever so ogled so much or sold so many drinks so quickly.

There was one hell of an atmosphere in the pub and the drink was selling by the kilo litre. Someone was
clapping their hands loudly for silence. It was Humphrey..again! How he loved the role of impresario! and
that of retail liquor baron!

"Ladeeeez, Gentuurrrrlmen" he started "we have raised nine hundred and twenty pounds and if we make
another eighty, we will have done the thousand" He pointed to one side "These noble gentlemen over here
will put up another fifty if the rest of you put up the rest for Katrina to do one more dance and if the charming
lady will agree to do just one little teeny weeny dance with her kit off in the nude". Shouts and cheers rang out.
Katrina looked bothered. I was panicking. She wasn't having any of it, they were pleading, there were cries of
"come on Katrina, think of the starving orphans"..every blackmail they could think of they tried. It was
ludicrous. She started laughing and then meant she was softening.
I could see whispering. Humphrey looked pleased.

"The charming lady has agreed to a compromise, she has agreed to remove one more item of clothing, so,
you have a choice Gentlemen...the gorgeous white slip and gorgeous bare titties..or the those delicate little
white panties and the thought of what you might have seen if you lot had offered a thousand pounds but
didn't!" The room dissolved into a hubbub of cheers, laughter and heated argument.

Somehow, in all this, a decision emerged. It was to be Katrina's panties. There was deathly silence as the
music was Bad Girls again..very bad girls would have been more appropriate. Katrina began to
dance. Slowly her panties began to come down and she wriggled around the stage. Total silence from the
crowd. Down over her stocking tops, then to her knees and, then, with her feet together, she let them flop to the
ground and stepped out of them. That broke the silence. Applause and clapping broke out; cheers too.
Wobbling her breasts she gyrated around the floor and gyrated her hips too as suggestively as decency
would allow and letting the slip ride up her bare thighs but not quite enough to let anyone see what they really
wanted to see. I was staring hypnotized, so were most of the men in the room.

And then suddenly, she wriggled her shoulders so the slip's straps slid down her arms and let the whole top
flop down to her waist leaving her titties bared and wobbling. Quite without shame, she tucked her thumbs in
to her garter belt at her hips with her hands over the folds of slip and began to really dance. One again, the
room was totally silent and it stayed silent until the record ended. You don't get polite opera house applause
in English pubs for a stunt like that but that's what Katrina got and endless very nice compliments of the
savory type. Humphrey opened three bottles of champagne which he, the other girls and Katrina dispensed
"on the house" from trays. She hadn't even bothered to pull her slip back up to cover herself until I whispered
"brazen hussy" in her ear.

Just after midnight, we were sitting in one of those black London taxis on the way home, Katrina, of course, in
just her slip stockings and high heels, for the auctioned dress had "disappeared" as we knew it would. The
taxi driver had goggled and said nothing except for "you lot 'ave 'ad a good time by the look of it" before asking
for the address. I slid my hand up Katrina's thigh. "Where are your panties?" I asked, faintly irritated. "Oh, I
gave them to that lot that up the last fifty quid" she answered brightly with a glint in her eye. "Tart" I answered,
half meaning it and half overcome with desire. She looked at me again with that look in her eye, that strange
glint. "Do you like what you see?" she asked, sliding the lacy hem of her slip up. "Of course", I answered. She
laughed lightly, "well" she said "You know the old saying, what you see is what you get or, in this case, what
you can have if you want it".

I couldn't have put it better myself.

Hello Mercedes,
Thank you for starting up this great slip site. So many slip sites have poor
photography and/or a second page that starts with, "Enter Credit Card

I have been turned on by ladies in slips for as long as I can remember. I
think 1960's television and movies have a lot to do with it. They would use
the slip as a device to suggest nudity or eroticism with actually revealing
anything, so that they didn't fall foul of the censors. Yet, at the same
time as it conceals the direct view, the slip actually reveals the
underlying shape and, therefore, stirs the imagination. Its light material
suggests femininity, especially if it has a lace trim and when it lays
against the skin of a lady it takes on those lovely curves. When a slip is
transparent enough to show the next layer of underwear beneath or is
stretched tight to show the outlines, it becomes especially erotic, and yet,
at the same time, it remains innocent and modest.

For many famous actresses a slip scene was as near as they ever came to
nudity, and many actresses and female television personalities of today take
to wearing slips for glamour shots. They know it's sexy, but it won't scare
the horses. When anyone mentions a movie by name my first recollected image
is the slip scene. Never mind the shower in "Psycho", the best bit is the
opening bedroom scene with Janet Leigh in a half-slip with her stocking tops
showing through!! Never mind Danny Kaye in "The Secret Life of Walter
Mitty", look out for Virginia Mayo in her slip!!

The slip is an ideal garment for the kind of photography that you produce
Mercedes. There is nothing better than a slip for the kind of, almost but
not quite pictures, that you are so good at. And like just you do, the slip
keeps the interest by maintaining the mystery.
Please keep up the good work,



link by Rob