Sylvie’s show
Sylvie’s show
Sex Story Author: | bobby5555 |
Sex Story Excerpt: | An eighth grader, she was a lieutenant on the dance team. She had asthma and was forgetful, so every few |
Sex Story Category: | Male/Teen Female |
Sex Story Tags: | Fantasy, Male/Teen Female, School, Young |
Sylvie’s Show
Three years out of nursing school, I realized that the hospital was not the place for me. The long shifts left me exhausted. The passive aggressive old women who dominated the profession were maddening. My co-workers weren’t all bad. The handful of men like me who had taken up nursing were cool. There were plenty of women my age who were cute and nice, but they were either chasing doctors or keeping their personal lives far away from the hospital.
When a position opened for a school nurse at the local middle school I figured, what the hell, I may as well apply. In the interview, the principal was excited about a young guy as school nurse. She figured another male figure at the school could only be a good thing for the boys and girls there. She offered me the job on the spot and I accepted.
The job was easy and actually a lot of fun. There wasn’t any of the crap that I got in the hospital from the older doctors and patients. I wasn’t “Nurse Schuller” with a smirk. Instead to the students I was “Mr. Schuller” earnestly, respectfully, sometimes whinnily, but never as if I was a joke. A lot of the job was dealing with sick kids or kids faking sick, administering medicines, and calling parents.
One part of the job that I kind of dreaded was helping out girls on their periods. There is a whole sub-forum about this topic on the school nurse discussion board. It actually turned out to be pretty low-key. I kept pads on a shelf in the nurse’s office bathroom and girls knew that they could come in and grab them when they needed them. Word also got around that I was cool about letting girls come in and lay down when they had bad cramps. They just had to come and tell me they weren’t feeling well with a significant look and they could spend a few hours laying down on one of the vinyl-covered cots in the two sick rooms off my office. As long as they didn’t come in more often than was to be expected, everything worked out fine. Since I was chill about it, a lot of the girls took a liking to me, bantering, winking, and giving me hugs in the hallways between classes.
Since I was a single guy and genuinely liked the kids I volunteered to go along as a chaperone to school events. I found myself regularly accompanying the dance team to their competitions. The parents liked having a nurse along and I was handy with an ice pack and athletic tape. As I mentioned, the older girls tended to like me, and I liked them. I could take or leave dancing, and I didn’t much care for the music they danced to, but oh, the costumes. The sight of these girls just over the edge of puberty, dancing and horsing around in leotards and tights left me keyed up for days. After their performances, invariably five or six different breathless girls, wearing heavy lipstick and eyeliner still in their damp leotards and tights would throw their arms around me in exhiliration, pressing their lithe bodies against mine. At the end of those days I would often have to pull the car over before I got home to rub one out while thinking about peeling the tights off of Sarah, Lilly, Miriah, or Sylvie.
I should mention my tights and pantyhose fetish. Almost as long as I can remember I have been incredibly attracted to girls and women in pantyhose. For more than a year when I was ten years old, my 14-year-old sister still in leotard and footed tights would lay on our living room couch after dance class and let me rub her feet and calves every week before our parents got home. The image of her young teenage feet and legs, her leotard-wrapped crotch, and pert nipples straining through her spandex leotard stay with me to this day. My college girlfriend knew I liked hose and would often wear them for me when we went out. She would giggle as I kissed her feet and legs and fondled her nylon bottom before undressing and making love on her dorm bed. I notice pantyhose everywhere I go. It has been a lot of years since nurses changed from skirts and stockings to scrubs, but a surprising number of my younger co-workers wore support pantyhose under their scrub pants. Every day or two at the hospital I would get a tantalizing glimpse of waistband or a nylon ankle. The school was pretty casual, so few of the female teachers wore stockings. Students, of course, were more casual than the teachers. There were lots of black tights in the winter and when girls on the basketball or volleyball team dressed up on game days, often one or two would come with legs clad in sheer tan or nude hose, my favorite.
Sylvie was one of the girls I saw quite a lot.
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