What would you do if you fancied your sister-in-law and had the chance to be alone with her in a hotel? I didn’t always fancy her and I’m not a gigolo who goes around seducing women. When I first met Marianne she was a scrawny young woman about 5’9” with a lean small-chested gangly body with short cropped sandy blonde hair. Her face was small, long and narrow with prominent cheekbones, a long nose and deep narrow, rounded jaw which emphasized a small thin-lipped mouth and teeth crammed into a small space. A large pair of spectacles magnified small eyes with blue-irises set in narrow eye slits that made it seem like she was squinting, giving her a mousey or dorky look.

After she got married and had kids, her figure filled out nicely becoming slender and well-shaped. Likewise her cheeks plumped slightly giving her face a nice oval shape that helped detract from a prominent nose. Slim-line glasses made her more attractive although still a bit dorky. Her bust also grew to pleasing proportions which caught my eye when she went through a phase of not wearing a bra to please her loutish hubby. It wasn’t until she began to wear skin-tight leggings that I became fascinated with her long slim legs. More so the first time I saw her in a mini-skirt and heels that showed off the muscularity and remarkably shiny muscle tone in her calves for a woman who didn’t exercise. From then on I was hooked, appreciating how pretty she was in her own way and staring at those sexy legs at every opportunity wishing she would wear skirts more often.

Back to the present. I was all set for another soul-destroying stay in a hotel on my own, so was only too pleased when Marianne asked to accompany me to Oxford as my personal assistant. I had arranged to meet a Professor of Persian History at the University to discuss photos I had taken of the painting owned by Countess Claudine depicting the Goddess Anahita on a murderous rampage in the persona of the Dark Goddess [PANTYHOSE#9]. I also had a copy of the translated scroll that mentioned her gift to the innocents, stolen by the ancestors of the Global Elite.

Actually she didn’t exactly ask. I had returned home after a long case in Paris [PANTYHOSE#1–9] and was rather put out that no-one bothered to show they even cared I was back. So I was pleasantly surprised when my sister-in-law came around to welcome me home. Wearing a pale pink tight top under a salmon cardigan that made her look much bustier than I remembered, denim shorts and tan coloured nylons showed off shapely lanky legs. It was very pleasant indeed when she pressed her lean body against me to deliver a big long hug and a friendly kiss. Marianne has a very kissable-looking small mouth with thin lips that I normally had to resist the temptation to kiss. Her hair, naturally mousey-blonde, bleached by the sun to a wonderful golden blonde softly framed her face. I could have stayed there for ages with her arms embracing me and lovely lips pressed welcomingly against my own while gazing into her blue eyes magnified by blue-rimmed slim-line rectangular glasses. It was enough to draw irritated glares and noises of impatience from our spouses. Even that brief contact was enough to make the front of my trousers lurch a few times.

Later, we were alone in the kitchen. Her magnified eyes were quite unsettling yet the dilated pupils, a sign that someone is interested in you, was appealing. “So why didn’t you take me to Paris, Jim?” she asked petulantly. I loved the way her blonde hair framed her face with a fringe above her light eyebrows, falling over the ears that she thought were large, hugging the sides of her flat cheeks to curl beneath the jaw to the sides of her swan-like neck. “You said I could help you. Don’t you like me any more?” she asked. “Of course I do” I replied. “Anything would be better than being stuck in that blooming burger van of his, I hate that boring drudge of a life” she added. I felt sorry for her and would have had enjoyed her company but had to explain that I couldn’t have afforded to pay for the both of us for the period of time I was out there and that our partners would have objected and been suspicious. She didn’t look convinced. “So what’s your plan now?” she asked a bit glumly, which I didn’t like to see as she was quite pretty when she smiled. I told her about my trip to Oxford and her face lit up. “I’m going too, as your P.A. Like it or lump it” she was very adamant. “I don’t think your old man will agree nor my missus” I objected. She gave me a hard tough look that was stony, fierce and determined.

“You’re just finding excuses” she accused. Before I could reply, she had seized my right hand, twisted my palm inwards while stretching my arm out to the side. “Ahh ahh” I whimpered as my wrist felt like it would explode. I was shocked that my sister-in-law was hurting me with a wrist-lock. With a magnified hard cold glare, she pressed my hand towards the ground forcing my knees to bend as shards of pain seared through my wrist and tendons. “No arguments. I’m going” she said forcefully, no longer the shrinking violet she used to be but an assertive confident woman. Without a smile touching her lips, she stepped to the side and placed a hand on the back of my arm close to the shoulder. Pressing her other hand on the back of my elbow it felt like it was going to shatter and forced me to bend forwards.

I had a good close-up of her long slim legs shown to their advantage by a small pair of shorts. The sheer tan-coloured pantyhose made her legs look perfect, smooth and blemish free, not that they weren’t already, with a sensual shine. Although removing her shoes when she entered the house, the shape of her calves were still highly noticeable. An impressive eye-catching shape ran from slim ankles fanning out behind long shins. Even without heels, they were long, deep and curvaceous, rather like upside-down bowling pins in shape. The irony that she wore tan-coloured tights while inflicting wrist-shattering pain was not lost on me, although she knew nothing of my recent adventures. “Ahh no please” I begged but she just stared at me clinically studying the effects of her handiwork. “Thank you for those self-defence lessons you brought me” [PRESENT] she stated. “It really changed my life”

“No!” I gasped as her right leg rose bent at the knee then straightened in the blink of an eye. I braced myself for the painful impact of her foot with my face but to my relief it stopped a fraction of an inch away. “I’ve got a pretty strong kick” she announced. Her foot pressed gently but firmly against my face rubbing nylon against my lips. “Shall I demonstrate by smashing your face in?” she asked, pressing the sole of her size 8 foot firmly against my mouth. The taste of nylon against my lips wasn’t my thing and tried to shake my head to dislodge it. “Refusal is not an option” she declared in a firm tone. Raising her foot a little, she playfully stomped my face a few times, mashing my mouth then twisting the sole to grind it against my lips. She also pressed on the back of my elbow while threatening to break my arm, making me squeal. With a wicked chuckle she kept stomping my face and painfully stressing my arm until I gave in and began kissing her foot. “That’s right foot-slave, kiss your mistress” she chuckled. That my sister-in-law had me like this was humiliating and reminded me of my experiences with The Pantyhose Society.

Eager to bully me some more, her foot dropped away and controlling me with small twists of my wrist, she forced me to stand straight. Looking me right in the eyes she folded my arm back upon itself around her right forearm. “I enjoyed them so much I joined The Salvation Army to learn more” [JIMP#15] I knew that but was trying not to scream as she tried to force my hand over my shoulder and wrap it around the other side of my neck. As she moved behind me forcing my elbow up towards the ceiling, I crumpled before her, my legs folding while I leant back in pain. I was helpless, just a toy for my leggy sister-in-law to abuse for her pleasure.

The words of Duke Gregory came to mind: didn’t I wonder why I seem to attract women like the Countess or in this case my sister-in-law? [PANTYHOSE#9]. She twisted my arm this way and that, forcing me to go wherever she wanted with a bemused smirk in unashamed enjoyment of her own dominance and without a care for the pain she was inflicting. She was in complete control and enjoying showing it off. “Oh Jim this feels so good. We must do this more often” she chuckled before twisting my poor arm at the wrist once more while pressing on my elbow. Forcing me to bend right over in front of her I watched helplessly as her right knee shot up with the long slim shin right in front of me, flinching as it narrowly missed my face. I caught a glimpse of her legs opening wide at the crotch as one soared over me only to freak as it dropped down fast. The back of her heel hammered hard between my shoulder blades driving me down to my knees.

Still holding my arm, Marianne shoved my head face-first between her waiting thighs. Pulling the back of my head against the crux of her legs, long columns of nylon femininity closed in on either side in a firm grip. Kneeling with the back of my head rammed against her crotch, there was nowhere to look except down. Her calves shone with good muscle tone through the pantyhose. I thought I could extradite myself as her legs were lightly holding me but my right arm was pulled vertically against the front of her body with the forearm sinking into the distractingly soft mounds of her chest. “Well, this is an embarrassing position to find yourself in” she teased. “How are you going to explain this to your wife, my husband and the kids” she laughed. “Shall I call them in from the garden?”

Panicking, I grabbed one of her slim ankles with my free hand enjoying how it fit nicely and began to tug as hard as I could. Raising herself onto her toes, Marianne’s large softly rounded-sided calves expanded and hardened into solid hard diamonds of muscle. Not that I could enjoy the sight as her lean thighs squeezed on the sides of my neck with surprising force. “Oh no need, here they come now”. I tapped desperately on her leg with my free hand, not wanting to be seen like this. Thankfully she returned her soles to the floor and released me. Looking down at her sexy legs as I got up, part of me wished I could have stayed between them to enjoy being their prisoner. Marianne looked at me with a bemused expression then burst out laughing. In embarrassment I realised that she had been leading me on and that no-one was coming to witness my humiliation. “No argument, Jim. I’m coming with you and that’s that” she told me brooking no-nonsense. “Or shall we see how long I can kick your balls for before someone comes in to see what all the screaming is all about?”. The way her magnified blue eyes glared at me and her firm-set mouth gave me little doubt that she meant it. I couldn’t help thinking what a monster I had created by paying for her self-defence classes. The feelings that caused in me made me agree which caused her to look smug.

I stared down at her shorts and lovely slim legs in appreciation but also in thought. “What?” she exclaimed. Tactfully I suggested that she wore something more professional looking for a renowned place of higher education. I doubted she would have such a thing in her wardrobe. It was a therefore a very pleasant surprise when a few mornings later Marianne turned up looking incredibly smart. A light charcoal-black blazer covered her slim frame, buttoned up at the front with a peek of a high-necked white top beneath while wide shoulder pads imparted an exciting look of executive power. A matching knee-length skirt hung above shapely lower legs clad in sheer nylon giving them a light black hue with the lack of seams at the back suggesting tights. Smart shiny black slip-on shoes adorned her feet with high heels and wickedly pointed toes. More surprising was that she had dolled herself up with make-up with a subtle rouge to her cheeks, a hint of light blue mascara and pink lipstick that made her small mouth all the more kissable. I was so gob-smacked by her appearance I just stood there staring in silence. “Scrub up well don’t I?” she joked. “You look absolutely stunning” I said in awe “like a shorter Princess Di with glasses”. She actually blushed at the compliment.

Stealing the occasional glance at Marianne’s legs as she sat in the passenger’s seat, I drove the car along the motorways until we finally reached Oxford. Arriving at the University, we got out to stretch our legs as we searched for the professor’s office. I’m sorry but I just couldn’t help it and soon found myself slipping behind to admire her calves flex as she walked. Quite large in length and depth but slender in width they were muscled in a very feminine way and highly toned. Raised upon high-heels, clefted double-arrow headed calve muscle heads were emphasized in bold relief and I just had to stay behind her to admire them while my manhood twitched in appreciation. They were sexy enough to turn more than a few heads of male students no doubt wondering who the leggy lady was in her studious glasses and business dress. Unfortunately her home counties accent spoilt the illusion of a well-bred woman.

The meeting went smoothly with the professor confirming that the painting and scroll were genuine and that a former colleague did the translation but was murdered before he could complete a second scroll. “A second scroll? From the temple in India?” I asked. “Yes, but William thought they originated from the Fire Temples in Persia, that’s modern Iran you know” I nodded my head in understanding. “A prophesy made by the Goddess to her followers about deliverance from servitude but sadly he didn’t get much further than that”. I enquired about the murder. “The pathologist thought bruises on his body were consistent with martial arts strikes” he told me. “Were there witnesses?” “No, but a security guard thought he saw a nun walking away from the campus around the time-frame. But then he’d probably been drinking eh what? Ha! What would a nun be doing around here?” “Stranger things have happened” I mumbled under my breath but he heard me. “Indeed” his tone became more respectful.

Analysing the conversation in my mind, I hardly said anything to Marianne as we drove to the hotel. I had booked one that wasn’t low-priced and cheap but not ridiculously over-priced either. After checking in, we agreed to meet up later after unpacking and freshening up, for a meal in the hotel restaurant at my expense. With almost 2 hours to kill before dinner and still a bit down about my poor welcome home, I went to the bar in T-shirt and jeans for a drink or more.

I soon wished I’d made an effort to smarten up when Marianne turned up wearing the same blazer and skirt from earlier but unbuttoned to reveal a light gauzy white blouse which showed off a tantalising amount of cleavage. Having re-applied her make-up she looked stunning. If anything, she looked even better than before and I was lost for words. I finally stop staring to stutter out a complement. “Wow Marianne, you look really beautiful” “You’re just saying that. I’m just plain. None of the boys at school would look twice at me” she smiled. “I would have” I said and with her smiling warmly at me we were led to our table. As I followed her, watching her sexy calves flex and wane, the sight of sheer black nylons with seams running up the back filled me with hope that they were stockings. Despite her protestation of plainness, I don’t think I’d ever seen her looking hotter and driving me wild with longings that I knew were wrong. Maybe it was that or the drinks I had before dinner that gave me the crazy idea of plastering her with alcohol in the hopes of maybe an illicit kiss and cuddle later. However she stuck with a couple of glasses of wine although that didn’t stop me having a few pints of bitter.