Pantyhose At The Beach

Like all of you, I have a fascination with pantyhose. (Let's toast to that!) I wear 'em a lot, privately and publicly. Away from the house, I have only gotten adventurous a couple of times (such as a late night swim once at a motel's indoor pool). But one day this summer, I was in the mood for adventure. I put on a pair of nude sheer-to-waist pantyhose -- "nudies" -- and swim trunks, and a tee-shirt, and headed to the beach. I live in New York, near some of the most beautiful beaches in America, and I chose one that is crowded near the parking lots and not-so-crowded between. Once there I walked a ways, a couple of hundred yards, maybe, to where there was an amount of empty space. Not entirely empty -- there were a few sunbathers about. Just about right. And I spread out my blanket. Well, it is fun going to the beach, and fun wearing pantyhose, but I had never done these pastimes simultaneously. This would be double fun.

Immediately, I took off my tee -- nice -- and sneaks and socks, exposing nyloned feet -- very nice -- and then said, "How about it?" and got rid of the trunks. Do I need to tell you how nice that was? Wow! On a broad stretch of sand wearing nothing but thin, sheer, clingy pantyhose. I was almost nude, but you know that incredible feeling the Pantyhose Gods created, that "practically nude" sensation. Being nude on the beach -- no big deal. Wearing pantyhose there (as they say in the Mastercard spots) -- priceless. Heightening the excitement, I began to wonder if anyone would notice my near-nudity. Not really, turns out, since other people were snoozing or reading or otherwise minding their business. I drifted off to sleep. The nap was brief, since it was hot out there and the throat gets dry quickly. I took some water, and that was refreshing. But when you're at the beach, the most refreshing way to take water is to go for a swim. Ooooh, a good idea.

This beach is part of the New York State Parks system, and there are occasional patrols by Rangers in Jeeps, and I wasn't going to stroll down to the water without some protection from trouble. So I put my tee-shirt back on. It is extra-long, so any Ranger who happened along wouldn't know I didn't have trunks on underneath. But friends, this story is not about those who would interfere with our love of pantyhose! No! So let me proceed. I have to say, walking down to the water was fine. I passed a group of three young women, equally fine, who arrived after I had. I don't know if they realized I had pantyhose on, but I paused near their spot to perform the necessary pantyhose ritual, pulling any slightly loosened material higher up the legs. (When I watch women do this, I fairly melt. They are certifying that they are wearing pantyhose and proud of it.) At water's edge, I began to tingle. Do you know that feeling when you first step into the shower in pantyhose and your feet get wet? It is a surge, knowing that soon all the hose will get wet, ankle by calf by knee by thigh by -- well, you understand! And you understand too how much more transparent and clingy the material gets. This is truly erotic.

Anyway, I stepped into the water and the surge was on. Soon waves were splashing up my legs. I didn't want to get my tee-shirt wet, so I carefully lifted it and tucked it, lightly, in the waistband of my pantyhose. (Lie -- I was unafraid of getting the shirt wet. Rather, I was feeling bold.) Now I was ready to move waist-deep. The feeling was right special when my hose were all the way in, but I have to tell you coming out was sublime. Wet pantyhose in the shower is tremendous, but wet pantyhose at the beach is out-of-this-world. I began the return to my blanket, and, though no Rangers were in sight, I untucked my tee-shirt and let it fall to its normal length. I felt I owed this to those girls: I didn't want them to suffer embarrassment. (Lie -- my pride and joy had shriveled in that chilly water.)

Back at the blanket, I removed the tee and resumed my near-nude sunbathing. It wasn't long before the sun dried the nylon. After awhile my mind began to drift (if you sunbathe you know about this), and I started experimenting with stuff like how high or low to position the waistband and, not any less important, where my penis belonged (pointing south or pointing north). The good thing about north, I determined, is that I could align the pantyhose seam perfectly along the shaft. Which is, in its own little way, stimulating. Which I knew already from hundreds of hours of this at home, but my mind was drifting, remember? Anyway, since this whole exercise was -- how shall I say? -- arousing, a third penis-pointing option became available. Straight upward, reaching, reaching toward the noontime sun. The thin nylon stretched into that familiar form, The Tent. This was fun! While nylon is lightweight, we needed a pretty strong tentpole to maintain support. At this point, I have to admit something. As this Tent thing was going on, I was blithely unaware of my surroundings, and I was altogether surprised when the three girls strolled past. If they didn't fully believe before what they may have been seeing, they did now. I was totally unprepared for their appearance, but in retrospect I think it was cooler this way. Good exhibitionism should be in the eyes of the beholder, and they wanted to behold.

Too bad they didn't want to beheld -- I'd have done that in a minute. Alas, they kept strolling, with nary a word, but maybe, just maybe, they will share a happy memory of the day a guy decided to wear pantyhose to the beach and got really excited about doing it.

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