Pool Boy Worships Sissy Stocking Cock

The sun beat down on the sprawling mansion pool like it had a personal grudge against shade. Veronica reclined on a oversized lounger in a tiny metallic bikini that barely contained anything important, her full makeup flawless even in the heat—smoky eyes, lashes for days, and glossy red lips curved in perpetual mischief. At twenty-two, the sissy socialite lived for this exact brand of trouble. Her long legs were sheathed in sheer black thigh-high stockings that clung to her smooth skin like a second, sinful layer. The delicate lace tops dug gently into her thighs, and the sheer fabric was already glistening from where she'd lazily trailed her feet through the pool water.

Her new pool boy, Tyler, was trying—and failing spectacularly—to skim the surface with the net. The nineteen-year-old was tall, lean, and sun-kissed, wearing nothing but baggy board shorts and a look of dawning panic. Every few seconds his eyes drifted back to the unmistakable bulge swelling the front of Veronica’s tiny bikini bottom. The thin metallic fabric did nothing to hide the thick outline of her girl-cock, especially when it twitched under his stare.

“Something distracting you, my eager little pool boy?” Veronica purred, voice light and teasing. She lifted one stocking-covered foot from the water, letting droplets cascade down the sheer material before dangling it in the air. The wet nylon shimmered in the sunlight. “You’ve been cleaning the same corner for ten minutes. Or are you just hoping for a closer look at my wet stocking cock?”

Tyler’s ears went scarlet. The net shook in his grip. “I—I’m sorry, Miss Veronica. It’s just… you’re really… um.”

“Really what?” She giggled, a bright, musical sound that made his cock jump visibly in his shorts. “Really hung? Really obvious? Really enjoying how hard you’ve been since you got here?”

His erection was now impossible to ignore, tenting the front of his shorts like a flag of surrender. Veronica’s glossy red lips stretched into a delighted grin.