Lee XX's Confession 6
The coffee-colored pantyhose the madam had left on the back seat looked for all the world like a snakeskin shed after a molt.
I held them in my hands for a long while, staring blankly down at them, then pressed them to my nose on pure instinct and breathed in.
Ssseup... haah...
They hadn't been off her long, and her scent still clung to them thick as ever—that faint body lotion mixed with the particular smell of her skin. The moment that sticky scent hit me, the memory of that dreamlike day flooded back. The day I'd sucked her toes and jerked off to them felt as vivid as if it had been yesterday. Even the way she'd spread her pussy lips with her fingers and begged me to come.
Overcome with lust, I climbed into the car and locked the doors. The underground garage was quiet, almost empty, and the windows were so heavily tinted that nothing inside could be seen from outside. I started jacking off in earnest, burying my face in her pantyhose and breathing deep.
Sniff sniff... haah...
Different parts of her pantyhose carried different smells. The tips of the toes and the crotch, especially, were dizzyingly potent.
The toe tips smelled faintly sour and rank—the sweat-soaked flesh-scent of the spot that had cupped her cute little toes. You know the kind of smell I mean. Nothing you'd ever call pleasant, and yet so addictive you can't stop inhaling it. That was exactly the smell of the toe tips that had wrapped her toes. Once you breathed it in, there was no escape.
The crotch was a scent of another order entirely—something words could barely touch. How to put it... the one and only smell in the world, maybe. I was sure it was the smell of her pussy.
Realistically, that scent shouldn't have soaked into pantyhose unless she wore them without panties, right? Two possibilities, then. Either she'd put them on bare, or her pussy smell was strong enough to punch straight through her underwear. But the faint panty line always showed through the seat of her tight skirts, so bare was out. Which meant her pantyhose had been thoroughly marinated in the powerful musk pouring off her cunt. That had to be it.
A woman who walked around freely broadcasting her pussy smell like that...
I kept stroking myself, picturing her sitting in the back seat in nothing but pantyhose. When the excitement peaked, I wound the pantyhose around my cockhead and rubbed hard up and down.
"Ah... Auntie..."
I came within minutes, and the semen shooting from my cock soaked her pantyhose clean through. Looking at them dirtied with my cum, I even felt a conqueror's thrill—as if I'd just blown my load inside her pussy itself. And another thought: if just coming on her pantyhose felt this good, how incredible would it be to come inside her for real? My head was full of nothing but her pussy. It felt all the more desperate because I'd decided it was a dream that could never come true.
After that, secretly jacking off in the car with her stockings became almost a routine. She often had me run stocking errands for her and changed into fresh ones right there in the car. And every time, she left the ones she'd been wearing right there for anyone to see. Skin-tone, white, apricot, gray... colors and fabrics all over the map. Sometimes I almost deluded myself into thinking she was deliberately leaving them for me.
Day after day I got to jack off to the scent of her still clinging to those stockings. As her personal chauffeur, my job satisfaction was through the roof.
But human greed has no ceiling, does it? At first just the smell of her stockings was enough to get me hard; as time passed I started to get bored. I needed something stronger. Then a perfect idea hit me—something just right for feeding my filthy, underhanded lust.
One evening on the way home, I floated it carefully.
"Um, Madam. There's something I wanted to talk to you about."
"Hmm? What is it?"
"It's... about the car's dashcam."
"The dashcam?"
"Yes. I think it would be better to replace the current one with a newer model."
"Really? Why?"
"I took a quick look—the one we have is so outdated it's barely worth having. The ones they make these days have much better quality, and a lot of them record front, rear, and the sides."
"Hmm..."
It was true the existing unit was old. If we ever got into an accident, the recording method and picture quality wouldn't be much use. But that wasn't why I'd suggested the upgrade. What I wanted was a dashcam that recorded the interior. In short, I wanted a legal way to film her without her knowing.
If I could capture her in the back seat all day long on camera—and jack off to the footage every night—for a guy who'd been jerking off to pure imagination of her, that would be a dream come true. Heart pounding, I asked again.
"What do you think?"
"Hmm... I don't know much about that stuff. Just handle it however you think best?"
Thankfully she accepted without a shred of suspicion. Like most women, she clearly had zero interest in car accessories.
"Thank you, Madam!"
"Don't thank me—I should be thanking you for looking after all these little things. Our Young-hoon is more thoughtful than he looks."
"Hehe, not at all."
The next day I bought a top-of-the-line unit and installed it. The camera mounted behind the rearview mirror recorded the cabin in crisp FHD around the clock. I fine-tuned the angle meticulously so it would catch her completely. After several test recordings and adjustments I finally got a result I was happy with.
The first day with the new dashcam installed. Before work even started I was praying she'd come out in something that would get me hard.
"Young-hoon, you're early."
I turned at her voice—and silently cheered at the sight of her outfit. A beige two-piece suit, sheer skin-tone stockings, and white stilettos. As if she'd made a promise with me, she was dressed exactly to my taste. The skirt shorter than usual was especially perfect.
Whenever she sat in the back she always crossed her legs. Sometimes the skirt rode up far enough to flash the band of her pantyhose. With it shorter than usual today, if luck held I might even catch a glimpse of her panties under the hiked-up hem. And starting today I could record it all and stroke myself to the live footage. The thought of the stiff day ahead already had my cock aching first thing in the morning.
"Shall we head out, then."
"Mm. Drive safe today."
"Yes, ma'am!"
And so another busy day began as usual. Even while driving I kept checking that the camera was running properly. Whenever she switched which leg was crossed, or absently flipped her skirt to smooth her thigh, I smiled to myself and glanced at the dashcam. Before, if I looked away for a second and missed a moment like that, I'd click my tongue in regret. Not anymore. Those fleeting flashes of her intimate flesh—I could now rewind and savor them frame by frame whenever I wanted.
God, I wanted to clock out already and check the recordings.
Contrary to my wishes time crawled, and it was sometime after lunch as we headed to a client that—
"Ugh, my legs hurt."
She suddenly kicked off her heels, propped one leg on the opposite knee, and started kneading her calf.
Here we go.
She often massaged her own legs in the back seat like that. Thinking I was staring straight ahead and driving diligently, she let her guard all the way down and got completely comfortable. Honestly, saying I'd swapped the dashcam just to film that pose wouldn't have been an exaggeration.
From her toes wrapped in the stocking tips, to the soft jut of her anklebone and the sleek calf—and the panties that would be fully visible through the open skirt. That view I'd only ever been able to steal in the rearview mirror—finally I could put it on video. I deliberately didn't even glance at the mirror, so she'd feel free to get even bolder. Freed from my gaze, she massaged away without restraint, working from calf down to each individual toe—crotch spread wide open toward the dashcam. I hummed under my breath, waiting happily for the end of the day.
"Young-hoon, something good happen today?"
"Huh?"
I must have looked too openly cheerful; she was eyeing me curiously.
"Ah—no, nothing."
"Really? Weird. You've been smiling to yourself since this morning."
"Oh, that? Maybe just because work's fun."
"My, listen to that sweet talk. Did someone teach you lines like that?"
"No, ma'am. I bet every man in the world would feel the same. How could anyone not enjoy driving you around?"
"Hohoho, you're hopeless, you really are."
"I'm not joking."
"Fine. Since Young-hoon's been so charming today, I'm in a good mood. You can go home early."
"What??"
"Once the meeting's over, head straight home."
Oh no.
It was Thursday. For reasons I never understood, she often let me off early on Thursdays. Early dismissal was nice, sure—but it left the timing for retrieving the dashcam's memory card awkward. In cases like this she drove herself for the rest of her schedule.
"Why the face? You don't like it?"
"N-no, I like it. Thank you."
I hid the tangle of feelings and smiled at her. It would be a hassle, but I'd have to sneak over to Cheol-hwan's place that night and pull the card. Luckily she'd given me a spare key from day one, so getting into the car wouldn't be a problem.
After the meeting, as expected, she dropped me at a nearby subway station.
"Get home safe. See you tomorrow."
"Yes, Madam. Drive carefully."
I went straight home for the spare key, then killed time at a café near Cheol-hwan's house. I had no idea when she'd get back, so I planned to wait as late as I could before moving. It was nearly midnight when I headed over.
Thankfully her car was parked in a corner of the garage. Like a stray cat I slipped the door open, grabbed the memory card from the dashcam, and got out of there fast.
Back home I didn't even wash—I jammed the card into my laptop at once. I'd had blood pooled in my cock all day just thinking about jerking off to the footage of her; I was desperate. With shaking hands I opened the folder of interior recordings.
Dozens of clips cascading down the screen. I scrolled hard, hunting for the one where she massaged her legs.
And then—
Huh?? What is this??
Down at the very bottom of the folder, thumbnail previews I didn't recognize caught my eye. Footage of the cabin from the evening hours after she'd dropped me off, by the look of it. Curious, I clicked one of them.
And froze solid in shock.
On the screen a man and a woman were having filthy car sex. It was dark, hard to see clearly. But the woman gasping and writhing underneath the man—was unmistakably the madam.