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.

“Oh, that’s precious. Come here, Tyler. Bring that desperate little hard-on over and rub lotion on my legs. I’m feeling dangerously dry.”

He dropped the net with a clatter and practically tripped over his own feet getting to her. The bottle of sunscreen trembled in his hands as he squirted too much into his palm. When his palms finally met her calves, the contact drew a soft, happy sigh from Veronica. His fingers slid upward, spreading the lotion over the sheer black stockings, tracing the curve of her toned legs with reverent care.

Halfway up her thigh, the words burst out of him like he’d been holding them underwater.

“I want to worship it,” he blurted. “Your… your wet stocking cock. Please. I can’t stop thinking about it.”

Veronica’s laughter rang across the pool deck—bright, wicked, and thoroughly amused. She sat up in one fluid motion, hooked a finger under the edge of her bikini bottom, and pulled the shiny fabric aside. Her thick, smooth girl-cock sprang free, already half-hard and gleaming with a light sheen of sweat. The heavy balls beneath it swayed as she rose to her feet.

“Well, since you asked so prettily…”

She gave his blushing cheek a light, playful slap with the growing shaft. The wet thwack made Tyler whimper. Another slap, then another, each one a little firmer as her cock stiffened to full, impressive length. Veronica laughed again at the pure hunger on his face.

“Look at you. Nineteen years old and already cock-drunk for a sissy socialite’s stocking-clad dick. Adorable.”