I raised an eyebrow at her, now she grinned. I gripped the skirt of her suit and began to ease it up her legs, Still, she grinned. My fingers found th... sheer material covering her legs, I traced them upwards until I came to the top. She was wearing stockings and suspenders. Now I could feel her flesh, hot beneath my touch. Her legs were tight together but when my fingers pushed downwards to go between her thighs, I felt them move apart, easing my way. I could hear her breathing getting a little. This was the early 1970s and most women in their thirties and forties wore a girdle of some sort. Based on the pages of adverts in the catalogues and women’s magazines, there was a huge choice. I knew my mother wore a girdle all the time, having seen her around the house and thought nothing of it. Before access to men’s adult magazines, I had many times whacked off looking at these adverts – especially in the mail-order catalogues.My mother favoured the long leg girdles and as I was to learn. We liked the teasing and playing. Now we know. There is no mystery any longer. We know where we stand – and we did it standing and laying and kneeling and just about every other way you can think of. He is nothing if not versatile.”Hailey was staring at her friend sadly.“So you’ve made your move, then,” she said.“There was no move,” Tiffany assured her. “I went over there because everything hit me harder than I thought. My brother was a complete tool, passing me off like a silly girl. I went to. Tara isn't usually a talker. But maybe she has something on her mind. Maybe it's time I got to perform the other part of my job. “I was foolish,” she said as I press the heel of my hand into her thigh, working it against the other hand, stretching and parting the muscle “I'm . . well . . I'm not good on trust.”Perhaps this is a breakthrough. “Well, I'm thankful you have chosen to put a little trust in me.” My fingers work lower and lower and she moans softly fingertips joining in to work her.