Neighbors Mom

I grew up in the ’70s in a super conservative neighborhood, you know, where clothes were boring—khakis, loose jeans, nothing flashy. My parents? No way they’d touch fitness stuff or trendy outfits. So, when I was like 10, around ’91 or ’92, I saw this older girl in our neighborhood wearing these black spandex shorts. They had this bright neon pink stripe down the sides, all shiny, like they were wet, hugging her legs and butt so tight you could see every curve pop. I was floored. It was nothing like the baggy stuff I knew. I begged my mom for a pair—some guys wore them too—but she was all, “Why do you want those?” She got me one pair, but I was so skinny they just hung loose. Kinda lost interest after that. Then, when I was 13, my neighbor’s mom—normal build, not skinny or fat—comes out in this baggy tee and these teal spandex capri leggings. Man, they were so tight, gleaming like liquid metal, showing off her thighs and, uh, everything. My heart was pounding like crazy. Then she lifts her shirt to scratch her side, and I see it—cameltoe, clear as day, the spandex stretched so thin it was like painted on. I thought I’d pass out, my face all hot. After that, I was obsessed. Couldn’t stop staring when she wore spandex. That summer, the mom asked me if I was willing to feed their cat while they were busy locally for the week. Soon as they left, I’m in their house, heart racing, digging through her drawer. Found it: three pairs of leggings, a brief, and spandex shorts, all shiny and stretchy. I grabbed the teal leggings, pulled them on—shiny, skin-tight, gripping me. Boom, instant hard-on, and I came, like, right away. No warning. I didn’t even know what cum was—parents never told me nothing about that stuff. I freaked, cum all over the leggings, scrubbed them in the sink, praying they’d dry. I flew too close to the sun at the end of the week, I’m in her room, wearing those leggings again, getting that crazy rush, when the door clicks—she’s back early! I came a small amount in the triangle part of the crotch, panicked, stuffed them in the drawer, and ran downstairs. She’s like, “Just feeding the cat?” I nod, sweating. Then she says she’s just rushing to work out, changes into those leggings— and they still must have been somewhat wet with my cum. I’m dying inside, asking dumb questions to stall, but she doesn’t notice. It was wild—her wearing them, me almost caught, the spandex shining like crazy. Since then, I’ve collected vintage dance leggings—Gilda Marx, all that shiny stuff. It’s been a big part of me, hiding it, feeling ashamed. Took 25 years to tell my wife. This group? It’s awesome. I don’t feel like a weirdo anymore.

Not quite the same story but in the late 1970s there was aerobics.  My ma borrowed our neighbors black leotard (short sleeve --i would have preferred long), and I used to love to dress up in it and prance around in front of the mirror and jack off...SO hot doing this--what a turn on!  But,I am pretty  tall so stretched it.    So when the time came to return the leotard it was probably a size taller!