Tribade Stocking Mesmerism

By Archibald Baal

Paula’s husband has a stocking fetish, and she’s decided it will increase their enjoyment if she has one, too. She’s a little bit leery of using the hypnosis website which promises to instill a lust for silky, filmy hosiery in her, so she asks her best friend Irina to watch her with the computer to make sure nothing goes awry.

But soon the mesmerism is delivering on its promise and Paula’s libido is spiraling out of control... and Irina finds herself letting it happen because she, herself, is enraptured by her friend’s new behaviors, and the way the curves of her long legs are enhanced by being wrapped in wispy veils of nylon delight.

Approximately 13,000 words.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Archibald Baal
• Release date: Oct 21, 2018
• ISBN: 9780463651155

Archibald Baal

Archibald Baal has been writing erotica on the internet since 1999. His works have been characterized as anything from “genius” to “porn with a plot” to “dirty filthy smut”, and he embraces all of these equally. He is a fan of clever, well-written character pieces which happen to contain women driven to distraction by lust and perhaps deciding to wear lingerie. He might, in fact, like stockings a little bit.All money earned from the proceeds of his works are guaranteed to be donated directly to his wife-like girlfriend’s hosiery and foundation-garment budget, with only a small amount deducted for administrative purposes, so you can be absolutely certain the cost of your purchase is going to a good cause.

Book preview

Tribade Stocking Mesmerism

Copyright 2018 Archibald Baal

Discover other titles by Archibald Baal:

Read the Fucking Manual

Seidh, Od, and Other Hnossir

Fine Stems and the Couch Dancer

Lesbian Garter Hypnosis

Sapphic Nylon Enthrallment

Just Joan

Got the Look

Going Under (coming soon)

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

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Table of Contents

Tribade Stocking Mesmerism

About the Author

Other titles by Archibald Baal

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Irina’s stocking fetish came to her late in life.

She was a girl, and from a young age girls put on tights and, later, pantyhose as a matter of course. They were clothes. Not an object of fascination, sexual or otherwise. Mundane.

For her mother it had been a little different, the way she told it: when she’d been a young lady, hosiery had been a distinct part of dressing properly. It still hadn’t been erotic for her, either, though; it was something you wore without wondering whether you needed to or not: the decisions you made were on which hose to wear based on your outfit and on what quality the event required. However, unlike in Irina’s generation, you were aware of them constantly while they were on because you didn’t want to ruin them with an errant snag. She’d used to laugh when her mother told her those stories.

Now she was constantly checking to see if her seams were straight.

She was in her mid-thirties before she thought of stockings as anything other than accessories, at best. That was three years after Paula married Karl, and it was all her fault.

Paula and Irina had met in college and, though in very different majors, they’d otherwise had a great deal in common. Both of them took their studies seriously, took drinking seriously, and took men seriously... in approximately that order. Usually. Sometimes this got them into trouble, but in watching one another’s backs they generally found their way out of it again in due course.

Now they lived in suburbia and spent most of their time working their 9-to-5 jobs (or 8-to-6, more likely, these days). Neither of them had kids, but Paula had as her responsibility the care and feeding of a husband and took it seriously enough. More seriously, it seemed, than Irina would have imagined.

They met frequently for coffee or, as this occasion would have it, for cocktails. Two drinks in and conversation flowed freely; three drinks in and things were bound to get positively salacious. Halfway through their third that day, in a conversation focused on the kinks of lovers past and present, Paula revealed her plans to her friend.

Karl doesn’t care much about whether I give him head or not, as long as I’m wearing stockings.

Yeah, you’ve told me that before. I don’t buy it. Every guy likes a blow job.

Paula laughed out loud. Oh, I didn’t say he doesn’t like me sucking him off. I’m just pointing out his true love is me in vintage lingerie and nylons.

Never got that.

Yeah, neither do I, totally. I kinda wish I did.

I doubt it. You don’t want to get too deep into a guy’s brain. It’s scary in there.

Probably true. But... She looked thoughtful. I’m long past feeling challenged or uncomfortable with girdles and gloves and garters — I’ve been wearing that stuff on and off since way before the wedding. But what if I could kick it up a notch?

Not sure where you’re going with this, girl.

"A few days ago, I’m washing the big old bag-o’-stockings