I miss wearing stockings.
There is a silky, draping massage… It is sheer in its shimmer, and erotic with suggestions of scandalous flirtations.
It drapes itself perfectly to my skin.
My toes tease behind a thin scarf of nude, while my calves become blanketed,
My knees flutter the soft curve of kneeling that strengthens my thighs to smile in their lacy adornments.
These are stockings, nylons…hosiery.
They dress my legs within the caress of illustrious feminine adoration.
I miss wearing stockings…
My legs ache for caressing.
Luxe by Diane Maietta, The Poetry Chic
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