The run up to Christmas this year has been a little different to those in the past. You see, in the past I have always attended some parties at the invitation of various gentlemen friends, as their companion for the evening and so the days and even weeks before Christmas were usually extremely busy.
The parties themselves covered the full spectrum, from your regular corporate or office party right through to attending a number of clubs that can be variously described as ‘couples’ clubs, ‘swingers’ clubs or sex clubs, plus some out-and-out fetish clubs (you might even recognise some of the names – Nightshift, Toucan Club, Swish, Old Hellfire, Club Rub etc.)
The only common denominator in all of these events was that I was expected (required, even) to wear a suspender belt with my signature fully fashioned stockings and stiletto heels, although for the fetish clubs it tended to be thigh boots and PVC or leather that was requested, plus a whip of course. There was one exception: each year I went to a club with a man who much prefers fishnet stockings to the fully fashioned variety and he liked me in knee length patent boots and mini skirt, as you see here.
Obviously for the ‘straight’ corporate events it was hair done specially that morning, smart party dress, and subtle make up but always wearing a suspender belt and stockings and for the sex clubs it was a case of ‘anything goes’ and for a time I used to like to take off my leather mini after the first hour or so and spend the evening walking around in a sheer black gown over my lingerie (with or without a bra or wearing a quarter cup for the best of both).
Here you see me at one of the corporate events, a party held by one of the large accountancy firms, and as you can see, I was accompanying a young admirer of mine. He absolutely adores ladies in fully fashioned stockings – and this lady in particular – and his little ‘kink’ on top of this is he loves to see the stockings wrinkled. As you’ll see from these photos, I wore a longer than average pair of stockings and I didn’t do the twelve suspender belt straps too tight, so even by the time I arrived at the venue, my stockings were already exhibiting lovely wrinkles at knee and ankle and as the evening progressed, the wrinkles became more and more distinct, until my friend couldn’t bear the excitement any longer and I had to take him to a quiet place for some much needed ‘relief’.
Which brings me to an important point. When I really got “into” the whole seamed stockings and stiletto heels (SSSH) look and fully appreciated how passionate so many men are about them, gathering a few thousand admirers along the way, though Yahoo Groups and some magazines, I always said to myself that if I went on a date with a man who we’d recognise as a SSSH fan, it would be unreasonable of me to expect him to go home with just a quick kiss on the cheek. And so it became my habit to always provide some form of ‘relief’. This could be as low key as a quick hand job at a bus shelter or in pub car park or sometimes inviting them to join me in the ladies or disabled toilets and allowing them to masturbate onto my stocking tops, up the seam or over my high heels (or boots). But in many cases, I’d provide full oral relief.
I’ve said this before, but I was a prolific cock gobbler and there are not that many pubs in some areas of London (around the Strand, for example), where I haven’t spent time bent over or kneeling down in the toilets, fellating a guy. For a time, I had a thing going with two guys I worked with – one white, one black – and we used to go to the pub most Fridays after work and I’d spend quite some time in the toilets sucking one off after the other and they were enthusiastic repeaters. In fact, on one occasion, I didn’t leave the toilets all night, and they just brought my drinks in with them, when they joined me for their next blow job. I know, I know – you’re thinking, ‘what a dirty slut’ and you’re right, of course.
So, naturally, when I was invited to these parties, I knew I would be expected to ‘perform’. I used to sometimes say a party is not a party unless I leave with the taste of Champagne and sperm mingled in my mouth. At the sex and fetish clubs, providing relief was easy, as people openly had sex and I really enjoyed getting down on my knees and sucking a guy off before a little audience of fellow club visitors. At the more ‘mainstream’ events of course I had to be more discreet but some of my hosts booked a hotel for the evening, so then it was not a problem, although I did have a few rather risky experiences. At one rather grand event I had such a frustrating experience trying find somewhere suitable to suck off my friend that I eventually asked one of the bar staff if we could have the use of a room for, as I put it “a bit of a kiss and cuddle” away from prying eyes. He got the message and took us to a back room but on condition that he be allowed to watch, so there I was in a storage room, on my knees, sucking this guy off while the bar man wanked himself off!
Naturally, I expected to be suitably rewarded in return for my time, my company and for wearing the outfit of their choice and I always insisted on a car to take me home or, ideally, both ways to the venue or hotel.
More recently, as most of my readers will know, I’ve done a lot less oral and instead provided excellently executed “hand relief”. Perhaps some men might think this a step down from a full cum-in-mouth oral service but once they’ve experienced my skills and experience as a Masturbatrix, there are no complaints and most subsequently ask me to attend other events with them. I even had one take me to the Summer Exhibition at the Royal Academy a couple of years ago, on condition I wore my stockings and heels and a top so low cut I was almost falling out of it when I bent over, which of course I did a lot (just to view some of the artwork, darling!).
I look back on those times now and while I do think I was a dreadful tart, sometimes getting to Christmas day thoroughly exhausted and hung over and counting how many loads of spunk I’d extracted and even swallowed I don’t regret anything (well, almost nothing) but time moves on and I was getting a bit old to be accompanying 30 year olds to parties without eyebrows being raised, so this year I’ve forsaken all that slutty behaviour and had a Christmas with a lot less of the white stuff than I’d normally experience. Who knows, it might snow instead.
Happy Christmas everyone and thanks for all the support so many of you have shown me in 2024.
Lady in Seams 