The Best Six Year Journey
(Published on Saturday, October 15, 2005)
This story was submitted anonymously.

Editor's Note: We are awaiting confirmation of an e-mail address,
which the author of this story has chosen for feedback, so stay tuned! 

Feel free to submit your comments about this story in our free foot fetish chat forum.
To do this, just click here for the story section topic to make your comments public.

All the names have been changed in this story, but this a true account of a six year journey.

I took a job at an advertising agency back in the fall of 1999, and little did I know that it would be the best job I had ever taken. On a Monday morning I began as a graphic designer. I had graduated from college in the early '90s with a degree in this field. I say that it was the best job I had ever taken not only because it was a career job, but because of everything that came along with it.

With the usual introductions to the rest of the creative staff which was comprised of 3 other designers as well as myself, it was time to meet the sales staff. I first met Karen, the advertising sales director, 5' 10" standing flat footed, a former airline stewardess. Brilliantly dark red hair, a crimson mane that covered her head. Her legs were long and toned. When we first met she was wearing 3" heels which caused me to look slightly up at her. As we shook hands, I glanced again at those long legs encased in such a smooth off-black nylon. I couldn't help but think if she was wearing pantyhose or just stockings beneath the black skirt which came a few inches above her knees.

Next I met Sarah, a blonde who was slightly shorter than myself. As we first looked at one another, I noticed right away how truely blonde her eyebrows were. A sly look allowed me to see she was wearing a very short blue skirt with blue colored nylons. I began to think if her golden muff was encased in pantyhose. Then I met my dream woman, Denise. 5' 9" and barely 115 pounds I had to guess, very toned, her legs thin but extremely shapely. Her medium dark red hair was cropped short, her eyes and smile melting, but her legs burned an image into my mind. Tan colored nylons beneath a red tight skirt which was at least 3 or 4 inches above her knees.

The first part of being the best job I ever had was that the sales staff were all female, but being a 29 year old male who loved women older than myself, I was in heaven. I later came to find out Karen was 37, Sarah was 39, and Denise was 41. Absolute heaven. Coming to the office daily, I watched nylon covered legs all day long. When one was out of the office on sales calls, there were others coming back into the design area to drop off design ideas and such. My desk was at the back of the room. When anyone came in I could slyly look past my monitor and no one would know what I was looking at. Carl was about 30 feet away from me, his back facing towards me. Around the corner into a small room the other 2 designers sat, both whom I could not see.

It quickly became apparent to me how good I had it. In the design area there was a large 15 foot table which was used as a work surface for numerous design purposes. The table was a little more than waist high, and below it were many storage boxes which held old customer files, anything and everything before the files were stored on the computer.

The first week I was there, Denise came into the room, and she was wearing a loose fitting lavendar skirt with tan nylons. The entire time I stared past my monitor looking at her legs. She set some papers on to the table and then proceeded to squat down beneath it looking through some of the boxes. I lost sight of her head, all I could see was from below her breasts. If I couldn't see her, she couldn't see me. My heart leapt, the adrenaline shot through me. I was hoping over and over. And then she did it. She slid a box out from underneath the table and removed the lid. As she did this she was facing slightly towards me, and her legs were slightly parted. I froze instantly because of what I was seeing. I saw the sewn-in crotch panel of her tan nylons and part of the reinforced panel. She pulled a folder from the box and reached to put it up on the table. Her legs came wider apart and I could see she was wearing white panties underneath her pantyhose. If I only had a camera. I had such a hard-on sitting in my chair. The scene was maybe a minute or so, but it replayed the entire day for me.

Over time I witnessed Karen and Sarah doing the same, but not quite the same. I also noticed that the two of them wore business suits often as well, but not Denise. In the six years I have known her Monday through Friday I have never seen her wear pants. Always a skirt or a dress.

I have ventured out after hours working late alone and found some amazing things. Karen plays volleyball in a recreation league, and sometimes changes at work. She leaves her work clothes in her office before going to volleyball. The first time I found her bag in her office with her clothes from that day I almost fell over. Beneath her folded dress was her pantyhose, jet black that I had stared at all day long. As I pulled them from the gym bag, I closed my eyes and pictured her in them. I brought them towards my face and took in her aroma, moving the crotch closer towards my face. The smell was musky, but yet sweet. Her pussy smelled amazing. I inhaled deeply, they were still warm.

I got up, turned on the lights, closed the door to her office, locked it, and sat down in her chair. I looked at the pantyhose closely, they were sheer to waist with a small reinforced crotch. Upon closer inspection, I saw there were white stains in them. Either she had not worn panties beneath them, or she was so wet she leaked through onto her pantyhose. I put my hand beneath the panel and brought them to my face again and breathed deeply. My dick was so hard at this point, I unzipped my pants and let my 7 inches spring free. With my left hand holding her pantyhose crotch to my face, my right was stroking the length of my shaft. I looked at the panel again closely. There was a pubic hair woven into the side of panel. A deep red color, it matched her eyebrows exactly. I imagined her furry bush, so red, so wet, so fragrant as I inhaled. I jerked off until I came on her desk. Quite a few times I was able to do that in her office, but I never took her pantyhose. I knew that would arouse suspicion.

Another time I witnessed Karen in off-black panyhose. She was to meet a female client in the afternoon in her office. About an hour or so before the meeting she came back into the production area to drop off a work order, but she was wearing tan colored stockings. My mind worked overtime. What was going on. The same outfit, but different colored stockings. She couldn't have gone home to change them. She lived over 40 minutes away. I grabbed the work order, and went into her office to ask her a few questions about the project, stealing glances towards her trash can. Could she have changed them in her office with the door closed? An image hit me of myself sitting in her chair masturbating and smelling her pantyhose. If she only knew.

I left her office. The next thought I had was the bathroom. Could she have changed her pantyhose there? The restrooms were on the opposite side of the building. The first thought that hit me was to go to the janitor's closet. I grabbed the wet floor sign and placed it in front of the men's room. Looking side to side I knocked on the women's door. No answer. I strolled through the door to the trash can, pulled the lid to the side, and there laying on top were the off-black pantyhose Karen had worn earlier. I scooped them out, jammed them into my pants pocket, threw the lid back on and exited the women's room. My heart was racing a mile a minute. Looking from side to side again, I exited the women's room, grabbed the wet floor sign, and placed it back. I went directly to the men's room, locked the door, and masturbated furiously while smelling her worn pantyhose. I worked with her for about 2 years and she went to another agency.

Sarah, she was a bit different. I didn't get quite a good look at her during her time there as she went through the files under the table, nor did she have her own office. So I had to steal my glances when I could. The only very good look at her I got was one day she wore an ankle length dress, so I figured that would be no good. She was squatted down looking under the table and there was nothing but fabric bunched up between her, so I walked towards the file holders for the new work orders.

As I passed her, I glanced down to see the back of her loose fitting skirt had ridden down as she squatted. The waist band of her smoke colored pantyhose was above the skirtline, and I saw the top of a thong below her pantyhose, the beginning of a whale-tail. I took a quick breath in as I passed by her. I looked back, and she looked up at me. Almost instantly her right arm went behind her and felt along her waistline. She could feel she was exposed. I looked away, and she got up and left. She never really was revealing - she was but she wasn't, an excellent tease, always leaving your mind to wondering. I always wanted to know if she was a true blonde, and still have yet to find out.

We worked together for about 2 and a half years until she left to open her own business. During her going away party we talked quite a bit, she told me she was into guys younger than she was. I had broken up with my wife about 6 months after Sarah was divorced, but she was dating someone or else she would have asked me out she told me. After a few drinks I was pretty bold and commented about her eyebrows, how blonde they were. You never know she told me, maybe you'll find out. We still converse back and forth by e-mail finding out if the timing is right.

But Denise, she has remained a constant. Six years later and we still work together. Six years later, and I have still never seen her wear a pair of pants. Always a dress or a skirt. The first turning point between her and me, she came back into the production area. Her day had been long, and she had taken off her shoes before she came back from her desk. It was a Friday, and I was the only designer left. The other had gone home. She slowly walked back, almost trudging as I peered past my monitor. She put her hands on the table and sighed heavily.

"Long day today Denise?" I asked.

"Yes," she said.

And with that she picked her left foot up and placed it upon the table. She was standing slightly away from me, a perfect 90 degree angle. I saw everything beneath her short frilly black skirt.

"I walked so much today around town to advertisers that I have a blister on my foot, and I wore a hole through my pantyhose," she said.

I continued to stare under her skirt. Sheer to waist light black pantyhose, black panties beneath them. At least a minute I stared beneath her skirt. It looked as though she was about to take her foot off the table.

"I don't see anything," I said, and tried to peer further, but not looking at her foot.

"Right here," she pointed at the bottom of her sole.

I got up from my desk and started to walk forward to get a better look. All the while I was looking under her skirt. I bent down a little, trying to still see under her skirt, and she pulled her foot off the table. I'm sure she knew what I was doing.

Over the years now I have come to know a lot about her. She is nervous sometimes, and when that happens she adjusts the waistband of her pantyhose and snaps it into place. Other times she places her hand down the back of her skirt and scratches the small of her back, or she scratches the front of her crotch. She never realizes she is doing it. Its a nervous habit that is sexy. She is aromatic, as sometimes when she walks into the room I know I can smell her wet perfumed crotch. She'll come over to my desk to explain an order to me, I'll inhale loudly through my nose, and she will look at me and smile. I constantly look under her skirt as she spreads her legs as she searches through the files beneath the table close to me. Oftentimes she gets up and smiles at me. But yet she is a constant lady even with those habits.

A year ago our company built a new facilty, much larger with a larger work force. The production area is much different. All our files are stored on a computer server now. 10 designers now in a circle pattern in a much larger open area, and more sales people, many of whom are men. I am now 35, but Denise, now 47, is more amazing than ever. She still comes to me when she wants something designed. She'll move in close, and squat down next to my desk, facing away from everyone. I can look down at her legs, which are slightly parted, allowing me a view of her pantyhose crotch with a reinforced panel. Sometimes seeing no panel, and sometimes seeing nothing at all. I can still inhale, and she gives me a smile. It's almost as though that is our thing.

She knows how to get to me, and boy does she get to me. We've been out many times with co-workers before over the years, but never she and I alone. I can only imagine what we would talk about. She's been divorced for about 9 months now, and hasn't dated since then. I ended a year relationship last month, and last I knew is that Sarah is still involved with someone. Her timing and mine seem to never work out, but now it seems like the prefect time for Denise and I to go out on the town. I'm pretty sure our conversation will somehow get around to pantyhose and flashing. Yeah, I think it's the best job I have ever had.