Though Jim was a pretty easy-going man in his middle thirties, not bad looking, and with a good job in an insurance office, the stretched-nerved Lois was often quarreling with him, usually about nothing of importance, and threatening to break up the affair.
And on this second Sunday before Christmas it had happened that way again. Jim had promised to drop by and take both his girls out for a drive but, earlier, over the phone, Lois had got mad at something she imagined he'd said or implied and hung up on him, telling him she'd call him… when she was good and ready. Maryon cringed at the thought of spending a day with her mother when the latter was in one of her moods, and said she'd go and visit Karen. Lois said that was just fine. Because she was going out to spend the day with one of her old girlfriends herself – to cry over several mixers of martinis, Maryon secretly supposed. But Karen hadn't been in, and so, for the sake of peace and quiet, she'd pretended a conversation over the phone with her friend in which it was 'arranged' that she'd go over there in a little while.
Satisfied that 'her little girl' would be all right, Lois had left and Maryon, thankful for a whole full day on her own, prepared to relax and enjoy herself, remembering vaguely at the back of her mind that other day just before Christmas, three years ago!
After listening for a while on her record-player to a new group called the Beatles, she began to get restless and bored. Suddenly she realized that this would be a good time to see what she would look like, 'grown-up'. The house was hers for the day, and if there were visitors or phone calls she just wouldn't answer. Making sure that the back and front doors were securely locked, she turned off the record-player in her room and, feeling excited, slipped out of her 'round-home' dress, her bra and her panties, grabbing up a robe, just in case, as she went along the corridor to her mother's room.
As was usual lately, Lois' clothes were strewn everywhere about the place, as though the imminent lifting of the bonds of matrimony had also freed her from the restrictions of neatness, appearances, and other lower-middle-class importances. Dropping her own robe as carelessly to the floor, Maryon switched on the special light above the full-length mirror of the dressing table and admired the way in which her body had filled out lately. Her breasts were full and ripe and lush, as big, at least, as Sylvia's had been last year. And she was only thirteen yet! Her waist was as narrow as ever but her hips had a new and more subtle roundness to them, with lean bones quickly becoming submerged into fair and creamy hills. The hummock at her crotch stuck out boldly, firm to her fingers as she parted the bright gold curls of pubic hair to let it be seen by her in the starkly illuminating mirror. Posing coltishly the while, shifting from one leg to the other, raising a knee to show off to herself the excellent, fashionably slender length of her legs, thrusting her pink-tipped, well-separated and high-hanging breasts out toward her mirror-image as if she hoped that other might reach out and fondle them, Maryon shook her long blonde hair free from its hasty knot and, reaching for a rubber band, put it into a ponytail. Caught by some memory of a Roman siren, seen on the TV, she sought around until she found a length of thin white cord and with it bound the hair nearest her scalp into a seven-inch-long whip stock from which the rest of her shining silk flaunted yellowly down in a true tail that flicked her well-pronounced milky mounds of ass each time she shook her head.
For a while she disported herself by lashing at herself with her hair, thrilling as it slid quickly across her breasts when she leaned back, and drew exhileratingly up between her thighs when she bent forward then slowly straightened her body. But this was wasting time, however secretly delightful it was. Deftly running through the heaps of scattered clothes, remembering to remember more or less where everything was so that she could obliterate any traces of her clandestine visit, the nude nymph shortly had gathered what she wanted for the moment. Lois didn't allow her to wear much else but the school uniform and what Maryon considered to be 'kid's clothes' – jeans, shorts, sweaters, simple, discreet frocks and skirts and blouses. Why, she suddenly realized, looking at her collected booty, she'd never worn stockings in her life!
Lois and Maryon were now of a size, though it was obvious that the girl would shortly out-top and -bust and -hip her mother, so there was little fear of her repeating the comic (as she now remembered it) masquerade of that other time-before-Christmas.
Stockings being paramount on her mind, she pulled a pair of dark-toned nylons on first, standing in front of the mirror while she smoothed the cool, electric stuff up over her legs, carefully matching the darker rings of their tops against each other as they all but bracketed her gold-coiled cunt, riding high on her thighs. Next, a garter-belt – a brief black net nylon thing was conveniently to hand and, wriggling her hips so that her full breasts bounced loosely and independently upon her, she got the thing about her waist and, impatiently, fingered its clasps so that when she stood up straight again and looked in the glass at herself the dark stocking-tops formed perfect crescents in the center of her satiny thighs and, at the back, fitted comfortably up under the slight curved overhang of her cheeks, the straps framing most sexily (she thought) the cleverly concealed cleft at the front and the boisterous, saucy billow-walled separation at the back.
A pair of bright blue high-heeled shoes next caught her fancy and, as soon as she stepped into them she realized why women often preferred to wear them. The heels threw her body forward so that she felt a delicious tenseness along the fronts of her thighs and down the length of her stomach. In the mirror she could see how her breasts and butt were given extra prominence by this new posture and, when she began awkwardly to walk about, her hips rolled and her whole pelvic structure seemed to be floating in thick oil, constantly pushing her quim out and up so that she could feel the pleasurable tremors begin to work back into her from its pretty prancing. Eagerly now she stepped the into shoes' matching dress, shivering with delight as the bright blue nylon slithered up over her stockinged legs. Not wanting to bother for the moment with panties and bra, content to view the outward took, she thrust her arms into the sleeveless armholes, settled her breasts comfortably into the twin scoops of material that bracketed the low V-neckline, fitted the high, embroidered-banded waistline against her slim rib-cage, and with difficulty zipped up the back of the thing to where its top, in a lower-cut V, notched halfway down her spine. The dress was a trifle tight about bust and hips, but that only added to the delectable image she presented to herself in the mirror. The skirt was very full and, when at rest, just covered her knees… but when she twirled her hips the bright-blue stuff shirred and flayed high about her thighs.
For a few minutes she amused herself by running her hands slowly, tenderly up her legs, watching in the mirror as the dress rose higher until at last it formed a bright blue curtain draped enticingly each side of her yellow-curled cunt, and she parted her labial lips with the forefinger of each hand, letting her thumbs play with her clitoris until she could see her nipples harden through the nylon and feet the desire to becream herself flush and excite her craving cavity. But she stopped herself from loosing her load too soon, wanting to prolong the shivery ecstasy until the last possible moment. She let the dress drop to her knees and began to caress her whole body through the thin nylon, her eyes half-closed as she imagined other hands touching her here, there, sliding, stroking, kneading. And all the while she moved herself beneath the material so that its electrifying contact would upbrush the fine hairs on her body and sustain the sweet tingling that imbued her. She slid her hand into the neck of the dress, fondling one sensitive breast, wandering what it was like to have another perform on her – thus, and thus and thus! – while she just relaxed and enjoyed the sensation…