Mover Kneels Before Sissy Stocking Cock

The new apartment still smelled of fresh paint and cardboard. Sunlight slanted through the bare windows, catching on the dust motes that swirled every time Derek hauled another heavy box up the stairs. He was exactly what Sissy had hoped for when she booked the movers—six-foot-three of thick, corded muscle, broad shoulders straining the grey company polo, forearms veined and glistening with sweat. His jeans hugged a powerful ass and thick thighs that flexed with every step.

Sissy stood in the middle of the living room in full sissy regalia: glossy makeup with sharp winged liner and glossy red lips, a skin-tight black pencil skirt that barely reached mid-thigh, and the sheerest black stockings money could buy. They shimmered like liquid glass under the light, clinging to every inch of her long, smooth legs. Beneath the skirt, her cock was already half-hard, the thick shaft and plump head clearly visible through the delicate nylon, stretching the material into a lewd, obvious bulge that swayed when she moved.

Derek tried not to look. He really did. But every time Sissy bent over to point out where a box should go, the skirt rode higher, the stockings whispered, and that fat cock-print pressed obscenely against the sheer weave. His breathing grew heavier. His neck flushed crimson.

“Careful with that one,” Sissy purred, voice soft and feminine. She leaned forward over a stack of boxes, deliberately arching her back so the skirt tightened across her ass. The glossy nylon caught the light, flashing like wet silk. “It’s fragile… but I’m not.”

Derek’s grip tightened on the box. His cock had been throbbing for the last twenty minutes, trapped uncomfortably down the leg of his jeans. He could feel the wet spot forming where his leaking tip kept rubbing against the denim.

Sissy turned slowly, letting him see everything. The way the stockings hugged her calves, the delicate reinforced toes, the way her cock pulsed visibly beneath the nylon, thickening further under his stare. She took one deliberate step closer, the slick shhhick of nylon on nylon filling the quiet room.

Derek set the box down with a grunt. His massive chest heaved. “Look… I don’t know what kind of game this is, but—”

Sissy lifted one leg and let her stocking-covered foot brush lightly across the front of his bulging jeans. The sole of her foot pressed against the rigid length of him, toes curling slowly over the fat head. She felt it jump hard against her arch.