My First Suspender Belt

Hello my Friends,

Do you know, I can't remember a time when I didn't find stockings erotic. I know that many of you do as well, but I'm going to address this particular post to those of you who might need some persuading. Don't feel that you have to stop reading if you agree with me, though, because I'm sure you'll find something here to keep you entertained!

I think I was first turned on to their erotic potential by an older man. That probably sounds dreadful now and I'm sure for some it could be a very dangerous area to go into, but at the time it didn't seem that way to me! It's a little sad in some ways, because although I remember the event quite clearly I can't bring the guy's name to mind right now, but I remember being impressed by the E-type Jaguar he used to drive!

At the time I was working as a barmaid in a country pub, and as you can imagine I was quite popular. I tried to be sensible though, putting the money for drinks I was bought into a jar rather than getting drunk, maintaining a certain distance from customers, not getting too carried away with their comments and so on. I could be quite mature when I wanted to be. And the tips jar was a handy addition to the meagre wages I was getting!

In fact, now that I think of it, it was the tip jar that was my introduction to whatever-his-name was! I had seen the car parked outside the pub once or twice, and the deep green colour and the voluptuous curves of the huge bonnet grabbed my attention right away. I made a mental note to find out more about the car and its driver, as the idea of being whisked around the quiet roads with the top down was very appealing to me!

I didn't work every day that summer, and the car wasn't there all that often, so it was not really a surprise when a couple of weeks went by without me seeing it again. I did mention it to another barmaid, Jane, who said she knew who the driver was, but then changed the subject quite quickly. Did I see her blush as she did? I was intrigued, and the thought added a little extra excitement!

I was working the Good Friday lunchtime not long after I had spoken to Jane when I heard the thrumming of a powerful engine and saw the green Jag pulling in. I was serving a group so I didn't see the driver straight away, but when I heard a deep voice order a single malt, a cigar and whatever I was having I put two and two together. A large man, who looked as if he was used to the finer things in life (at least when it came to fine eating!) the blazer and cravat made me think even then that the sports car was an indication that he had reached a certain stage in his life. Or to put it another way, twice my age and then some! For some reason this made me a little playful.

'Is that single as in small?' I asked innocently.

'No my darling, that's single as in solitary, as splendid isolation. The best way to be, in my opinion.'

A divorce then. And hoping to play the field, from the sound of things.

'OK, but is that a single single, or a double single? I can make it a large one for you, if you want?'

I gazed at him with a wide-eyed, naive expression. I gave no sign that I there was any other meaning to my words. I saw his eyes twinkling at that, as if he realised he was coming across as being a little pompous, but that I wasn't fazed by it. It may sound silly now, but just then we both decided we liked what we were seeing just that little bit more.

'A single single will be fine, my darling. I am driving later. And there'll be more change for you to keep that way.'

He had handed over quite a large note, so I wasn't going to complain!

'I'll put it in my tips jar, if that's OK with you?'

My skirt that day was a little short, I must confess. You know, it almost makes me wonder why I used to put the jar on that high shelf. I was on tip-toes as I dropped the change into it, imagining behind me the kind of throaty growl that Sid James used to make in the Carry On films. Take a moment now to imagine me in a short skirt, the hem riding up as I reach for the shelf. Poor innocent Lorna, a tease? Surely not!

I turned back and smiled sweetly at my new friend.

'It looks as if you've got quite a nice sum in there, young lady,' he said, 'have you thought what you might spend it on?'

'I do quite like the idea of a nice, fast car,' I said.

'Well, they don't come cheap, I'm afraid!' he replied, 'But maybe I could offer you some financial advice. Have you heard the phrase, "speculate to accumulate", my dear?'

'I think so,' I said, leaning on the counter in front of him, 'But I'm not sure how it would apply to me.'

I will give the man credit, despite my low neckline he maintained eye contact with me! Mind you, I was giving him a full, wide-eyed innocent look, complete with fluttering eyelids. He motioned me closer, then murmured into my ear.

'Between you and me, I think you'd find you were up and down to that tip jar about twice as often if those tights of yours were stockings and suspenders.'

I genuinely hadn't thought of that. I stayed there with my head close to his just a second or two longer, watching the way his fingertips rose and fell on the counter top, each in turn. I realised my breast was barely out of his reach, and realised he was miming the gestures he would make if he was holding it. I think I blushed. I know I flinched. But not that far. I found myself wondering if he was hard for me, up against that bar top.

'You'd certainly get more from me,' he said, as I pulled back. I made a non-committal face and smiled just enough that he wouldn't get upset.

'Thank you!' I said brightly, 'You've given me something to think about there!'

His eyes narrowed a fraction and he gave me what wasn't exactly the warmest smile he could but it still looked pleasant.

'Ah well,' he said, 'That's me! I can be quite generous, you know. Under the right circumstances.'

And that was more or less all that was said between us, at least on that day. Over the next twenty minutes or so I caught him looking at me a couple of times. Which means, of course, that I was looking at him.

He left the pub shortly after finishing that whisky, waving to me as he left and calling out

'See you Monday?'

To my mind, even at that relatively young age, there was no doubt about what he had in mind. The only question in my mind was what should I do about it. I slept on it, and the next day went into Manchester to buy some lingerie. After all, the way I saw it, he wouldn't be the only beneficiary of it!

I have to say Monday saw me a little nervous! Not quite first date nerves, but also in case my new underwear arrangements were a little too obvious. But then again, I told myself, that was the idea, wasn't it? When I got dropped off at the pub, I could see the green E-type there. I took a deep breath, pulled the little black dress down, felt the gentle tension of it across my boobs and knew I was going to be thinking about sex all of that afternoon shift, and wondering how much that would show!

He was on a stool right at the place where he had offered me his financial advice, a nearly empty glass in front of him. I took a deep breath, hoping that nobody would notice me doing that but that everybody would notice the results and announced breezily,

'Anybody in need of attention?'

He downed the drink in one and held the glass out. I thought I noticed a slight tremor, and wondered how long he had been in.

'Single?'

'Splendid isolation. Solitary.'

'Shame!'

I passed him the tumbler back. The note that came my way was twenty pounds, I noticed.

'Would you like one for yourself...?'

I beamed at him.

'That's very kind of you! I'll take for a half of lager, if that's OK?'

I turned. Another quick deep breath. My chest expanded, and the hem of my skirt rose as a result. I went up on tip toe. I hadn't tested the outfit, but I was sure some of that lovely, pale, top-of-my-thighs skin would surely be showing over the my stockings. Behind me I heard something of a coughing noise, as if some of that fine single malt had accidentally gone the wrong way. I waited just a second. He didn't disappoint me.

'Sorry, I meant keep the change!'

I turned back, beaming at him. I kept my chest out - there wasn't as much visible this time round, but he still managed to notice - and then bit my lower lip, frowning. His face fell a little.

'Are you alright, sir? Only you look a little pale.'

He looked slightly puzzled.

'Pale? Am I?'

I looked him straight in the eye.

'I reckon you look as if you could use a lie down. I haven't really gone on shift and to be honest with you I think they could cope without me for a little. Why don't you give me your keys and let me drop you off at home? I've passed my test!'

He looked thoughtful. The penny dropped quickly for him and his eyes lit up.

'Yes. Perhaps I do feel a bit...out of sorts, now you mention it.'

I explained things to the landlord, who seemed sympathetic, if a little sceptical. I kept cheerful, said I wouldn't be long, and added I'd work later to make it up if he liked. I didn't mention that my tip jar now held more than my wages for the weekend!

The car was a sporty, noisy delight to drive, and I made sure I kept finding the need to brake and change gear, anything to cause my hem to ride up. Once he was happy I wasn't going to crash into a tree he even got to enjoy the view a little! He directed me back to his place, then onto the driveway next to his detached house. I stepped out of the car. He seemed a little reluctant. I don't know why but I seemed to have become the eager one, all of a sudden. I walked to the passenger side.

'You're going to have to get yourself out, I'm afraid. I don't think I can carry you.'

He stood up, a little unsteadily, then shuffled towards the side door. I had the key in my hand and opened it. He walked in slowly, as if he had just had an accident. I followed him, then closed the door. I had been worried, but realised he was now grinning at me.

'Neighbour,' he said, 'Nosy bastard will wonder what I'm up to if I look too cheerful to have you here.'

He stood close in front of me, then put one arm behind me, round my shoulders. The other went to my thigh, where I felt him exploring for stocking top through my dress.

'Ah, now,' I said, 'do it properly. Tits first!'

This had been the punchline to a joke told me by a boyfriend. I got a short cough of laughter from him, then he said

'I'm going to enjoy you, I can tell!' he said.

He kissed me urgently and I let him. He put his hands up onto my breasts, and I let him do that. Part of me was a little amazed that I was doing this particularly when I tasted the whisky and cigars on his tongue. I can only think that the journey in the car had somehow made me more responsive. Hornier, anyway. I pushed him away a little, then pressed down on his shoulders. He took the hint and crouched in front of me. I lifted my skirt and thrust my groin out, squirming to press my wetness onto his face. He hadn't come across as a great kisser, but he seemed to be doing a bit better downstairs! I felt an urgency about the situation I didn't recognise from times with younger boyfriends. The difference was it was me who was in a hurry. I didn't even want to climb the stairs to his bed. I glanced around the hallway. We were fumbling with each other about ten feet from a small, low table. It would do.

'Have you got any condoms?' I asked.

He seemed baffled. I opened the flap on my bag and hunted inside.

'Good job one of us knows about Boy Scout principles, then.' I said.

I didn't let on that I had learned this particular Boy Scout principle from a very intimate jamboree and a subsequent period that was two days late.

I tossed him the packet, then pulled off my outer clothes quickly. I left the stockings and suspender belt on. I dallied for a little, then decided the shoes should stay on too. I walked over to the table.

'Fuck me on this?' I said, and laid down.

I winced a little as he entered me. His was probably the biggest cock I had taken, though that makes me sound much more of a slut than it should. It wasn't really comfortable for either of us, but at the time the comfort was less important than the sex. I liked the feeling of tightness, the way my body got pressed into the cool, hard wood of the tabletop. I ran my fingers through the curly greying hairs on his chest, while his hands grabbed and squeezed my breasts in time to the movement inside me.

I opened my mouth and panted as he took me, pressing my thighs together to urge him on. He was coming … turned on by the very intimate French kissing we had just shared. He thrust deep, emptying himself inside me.

I hadn't come, and I was pretty sure that I would need to be back at the pub before he could do something about that. He pulled out, his condom heavy with a load that I was glad I didn't now have to worry about. He watched, open-mouthed in his turn, as I reached between my legs and brought myself off, satisfying my need for release.

'I need to get back to the pub,' I said. He nodded, and offered to drop me off.

Now that both of us had come, the tidying up process was strangely devoid of passion, though as I saw him watch me dress, I knew that the thought of my body in those stockings would linger long in his memory. Awkward, was what it was. Slightly awkward, anyway. Though we hadn't actually fallen out, the urgency and spark from earlier on had just disappeared, though he did continue to be a great tipper whenever I saw him in the bar. At the start of autumn I moved on, and later heard that his "splendid isolation" came to a close when Jane, the other barmaid fell pregnant by him. No wonder she blushed that time. I should have told her about Boy Scouts!


Yes, looking back now I realise that was a strange time in my life. It was a time when perhaps I was playing a little dangerously, but I got away with it. And I found I quite liked fast cars, and at least some of the men that drive them. But the one thing I really owe to my Jaguar-driving friend was just how valuable an addition stockings and suspenders can be to a girl's wardrobe - at any age!

Love and Kisses,

Lorna Blu xxx