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“Holy shit! How do you wear this?!” Gojo stood on the balcony of the student dormitory of the magic college and concentrated on stretching thin tiny women's panties in different directions.
“It's fine, you idiot!”
“Ouch!!!”
Shoko threw a comb at his head, causing the panties to fall out of his crooked hands. Gojo rubbed the back of his head, nonetheless looking at her with a smile as he fixed his glasses that had slipped down on the tip of his nose.
“We don't need to put stupid gyoniku sausage! That's why they're so small. Give it here.”
Shoko was laying out her clothes after drying, and Gojo came into her room to get under her skin. However, he obediently picked up the underwear and returned them to Shoko. Probably, another girl would have been ashamed to sort through underwear in front of a friend of the opposite sex, but Shoko didn't care at all. She had already taken away some bras from Gojo, which that jerk was trying on instead of his glasses. Asshole. “You'd better go to Getou. You have nothing to do.”
“To Getou?” Gojo repeated, idly searching for gold in his ear with his little finger. “I see him every day anyway. It's more interesting here. Oh, and what is this? Tights?”
Shoko turned to look sourly at Gojo. He had pulled off the nylon stockings from the clothesline and was now stretching them in all directions.
“Fuck, Satoru, these are stockings! Give them give back! You'll tear them up!” This time the white-haired boy was hit with deodorant. Gojo didn't let himself get caught off guard again, using his technique just in time, and the deodorant froze in mid-air a few centimeters away from him before falling.
“Haha, I'm sorry. So, these are stockings? They’re so… tight. Don’t your legs hurt in them? It must be very tight.” Gojo innocently fluttered his eyelashes and returned the stockings. Shoko rolled her eyes, took her piece of clothing away from him and began to fold it carefully.
“They don't hurt me at all. Nylon stretches well and is barely felt on the skin. These are not compression stockings.” The girl herself went out on the balcony and collected the rest of her things from there so that Gojo's playful hands would not get to them. He sat down on a chair in her room with his legs spread and his arms outstretched.
“Really? Come on! How is this possible?! Is nylon some kind of material for shamans? Is it using the territory expansion technique?!”
Shoko made a face that looked like a statue from Easter Island. Sometimes Gojo amazed her with his natural idiocy beyond measure, and being in the same room with him for more than fifteen minutes became a torture. And how did Getou tolerate him on a regular basis?! Moreover, how did Gojo manage to be one of the best college students if he had brains like a shrimp?!
“Oh Gods… Well, if you want, put them on yourself. Then tell me what's so tight about them.” Shoko rubbed the bridge of her nose. These words were not an invitation, but rather another mockery, but Gojo suddenly found himself near her underwear organizer.
“Really? Thanks!” He pulled out the stockings with lightning speed and returned to the chair. Shoko only saw him begin to unbutton his pants before she turned away.
“Fuck, Gojo! It wasn't an offer! You’re a complete idiot!
“Look, have I’ve already put on one… stocking? Is it the right word?
“Are you with your pants down?!”
“Of course! They're stockings. How do I put them on with my pants?!”
“I don't want to see your underwear!”
“But if I put on my pants, you won't see the stockings on me!”
“Satoru, for fuck's sake, Gojo, darn you,” Shoko sidled over to her closet and groped for one of the skirts. The soft cloth flew to the side where Gojo was supposedly sitting, and he deftly caught it.
“Thank you!” He rustled his clothes for a couple of minutes. “It's done! That's it, you can take a look.”
Shoko turned around and immediately doubled over with laughter. Gojo looked surprisingly natural — they wore the same uniform, and in general, the combination of a women's skirt and a men's Gojo's blouse looked as if it had been intended. The stockings were black, they gracefully darkened Gojo's legs, making them even thinner and longer than they already were. By the way, his legs were extraordinary long, not crooked, almost not hairy, with a chiseled curve of the calves and fragile ankles. What a model indeed.
“What's so funny?” Gojo was grinning stupidly, his hands on his hips. “You know, you're right! In general, nothing is tight. Only a little bit in the hips, but these are stockings, not tights, so it's kinds fine. If it were tights, I think I would have died when they squeezed my balls!
“Ha-ha-ha, what the hell, Gojo!” Shoko continued to laugh. “You should try heels with these on! You look like a balding Mei Mei!”
“Really?” Gojo laughed as well. He opened the door of Shoko's closet to admire himself in the mirror. “I think we have the same foot size”
Shoko, choking with laughter, pointed to the corner of the room. There stood really beautiful high-heeled shoes. Gojo put them on and tried to walk amid both’s laughter, but almost fell right on Shoko, and she caught him by the arms.
“What's going on here? Your roaring is heard from... — Getou knocked on the door and entered the room. He froze in mid-sentence when he saw this picture: Shoko on the bed holding Gojo standing on high-heels, wearing stockings and a skirt. Both of the merrymakers burst out laughing again, while Getou looked at them in complete awe.
“Getou... fuck, Getou...” Shoko moaned between fits of laughter and waved her hands “This is not what you thought!”
“Does it suit me, Suguru?!” Gojo somehow straightened up, trying to get into a sexy pose, but he looked like a locust.
Getou looked at them both for a couple of minutes with an unreadable expression on his face. Gojo giggled, and Shoko narrowed her eyes: Getou was clearly embarrassed, his light, slightly yellowish face became a couple of shades closer to red.
“Idiots,” Getou finally told them, quickly leaving the room and slamming the door.
“Suguru! Stop!” Gojo howled, falling off his heels in another burst of laughter.
Shoko narrowed her eyes again, but didn't say anything. She thought about something, but decided not to voice her suspicions yet.
A little over a week has passed since that incident. Shoko smoked slowly, listlessly twirling a short strand of hair on her finger. She watched her two friends practice. She had some small suspicions about Getou, and she was still thinking about how to confirm them.
The guys had been more than just friends for a long time. They both understood that. They even confessed to each other to some extent, but it was still as if something was missing, they were shy about it and preferred to behave as usual. Or maybe it was only Getou who thought so, and Gojo was just being stupid. This six-eyed dummy was capable of intelligent thoughts only during combat, but not in interpersonal relationships. It was partly true. Shoko knew Gojo well and he sometimes cried to her about Getou's cold attitude. Gojo was sure that he was the victim of unrequited sympathy. In general, everything was difficult. Shoko hated to get involved in this, but if it wasn't for her powers of observation, they would have continued to wallow helplessly in their pile of emotional shit like blind kittens. But they had eight eyes for two!
After lunch, she stole Gojo for a conversation. Getou went to take a shower, and it was a great opportunity to talk privately.
“Suguru likes legs. Legs in stockings.” Shoko said from the doorway, lighting another cigarette. She and Gojo were walking around the college grounds.
“What?” He bowed his head in a disbelief.” What kind of legs?!
“Ordinary fucking legs. Human legs.” Shoko rolled her eyes.
“Well… good for him. And where did that information come from?” Gojo grimaced.
“He has a second Twitter profile that he thinks no one knows about. He likes all kinds of foot fetish shit from it.” She chuckled. “He didn't even close the account. And only the main Getou profile is subscribed to it.”
“Shoko... why do I need to know that?” Gojo clearly became more gloomy, he kicked one of the stones on the road. “No one wants to know what his friends are jerking off to!”
Shoko rolled her eyes even more actively.
“He's jerking off on you, Gojo. On your legs, you stupid crustacean.”
“What makes you think that?!”
“Satoru, he liked it when you put on my stockings, skirt and heels!”
“Did he?!”
“Of course not, he was just looking at you for three minutes and blushing for nothing!”
“You're lying!”
“Like I have nothing else to do! Check it yourself, if you don't believe me! “Shoko threw her skirt at him, which she didn't have time to change into after training, and then left.”
Getou just wanted simple peace of mind, maybe life in the forest, so that no one would touch him. However, this wasn’t possible when your friend was Gojo Satoru. Getou made himself a cup of tea and sat on the floor in a traditional pose to relax a little when the door to his room was abruptly pushed open. Gojo was standing in the doorway. In a skirt. In stockings. And, damn, on heels.
“Ha, Suguru-kun! It's me, Shoko-chan! I think my stockings are torn from behind… Can you take a look?” Gojo howled in a squeaky voice, and then walked over to Getou, who was just stunned. He was staring up at Satoru, dumbfounded. His face was flushed.
”The fuck is wrong with you?”
“Suguru—kun, come on, help me!” Gojo continued to whine. He arched gracefully at the waist, slightly lifting the skirt so that Getou got a full view of what was under, not that he wanted to, though. There was indeed a small tear on one of the stockings, extending downwards with pulled-out nylon fibers. Getou grimaced and pushed his friend's ass away from him.
“Listen, I do not know how to help you. I advise you to start with a psychiatrist.” He had to continue pushing Gojo’s ass away as he immediately tried to shove it back in Getou’s face, threatening to sit on it.
“Wa-a-a! Suguru-kun baka!” Gojo finished his attack and eventually turned around, looking at Getou with displeasure from under his glasses. He spoke normally.” Actually… I just want to check something out. Relax.”
“What? …” Getou blushed even more, awkwardly crawling back until he was stopped by the toe of a delicate shoe pressing on his groin. From this, Suguru choked on air and gasped hoarsely.
“Really?! You’re hard already…” Gojo looked genuinely surprised.
“Wh-what?! No! Satoru!” Getou felt like he was drowning in a swamp, with every jerk he got more and more bogged down and could not do anything, he fell deeper into the very essence of his preferences, secret desires and fetishes, which Gojo somehow mysteriously revealed.
Meanwhile, he took off his glasses and put them on the table. Now big blue eyes full of tenderness were looking at Getou, glowing in the semi-darkness of the room.
“Suguru...” He moved closer and pressed Getou's head against his thigh, covered with a skirt’s fabric. “Just relax. I can do anything for you. That's why I'm here... looking like this.”
“How the hell did you even know ...” Getou felt a terrible mixture of seething feelings. It was difficult for him to resist Gojo. In this form.
“I know a lot of things.” Gojo chuckled. He brazenly lied, deciding to keep silent about Shoko's role in this study.
Getou carefully hugged his slender legs with both hands, stroking their curves, slightly pulling off the nylon with his fingers. Gojo was warm, and Getou's breathing was getting faster and faster. Gojo's legs were just... something. Luxurious, perfect. He lowered his head lower to bury his nose between the guy's thighs, which he immediately pushed together like a shy girl.
“I didn't want to tell you. I was afraid to scare you,” Getou admitted, lightly squeezing the soft part of Gojo's thighs before lowering his hands down. With a careful movement, he took off the shoe that was pressing on his groin. God… Gojo's legs were indeed perfection itself. The stockings clung tightly to a neat foot, emphasizing the protruding bones and the smooth curve of the ankle. A thicker black cloth hid the toes. Getou bit his lip, his pupils dilated with delight.
“You... you really don't mind what's going to happen? This is... not quite typical. But I can try to make it nice for you as well.” Getou raised his head to look adoringly at Gojo. He nodded quickly.
“Don't ask, Suguru! I've already said that I want this!” To be honest, he got turned on himself. Getou was sitting with his head right next to his groin, looking up at him… Gojo couldn't believe what was happening.
“Then… Let's take off the heels first. They look great on you, but I bet you're already tired of standing on them.” Getou chuckled, helping to get rid of the second shoe as well. Then he unzipped his fly and lowered his underwear. Gojo's foot went back to his groin, this time the toes gently caressed the erect length. Geto groaned, clutching at the guy's hips. “Damn, you... how did you know that…”
“You want me to jerk you off with my feet?” Gojo smiled. He understood. And once again he ran his foot down Getou’s penis, slightly squeezing it with his toes, as far as the nylon fabric would allow.
“I am!.. Fuck, Satoru... don't say it like that!” Getou groaned again, his fingers gripping the edges of Gojo's skirt. “I mean… Please…”
“I'll do it for you.” He nodded. He gently wrapped his arms around Geto's shoulders, playing with his dick with his feet. He alternated between them, making the guy below shudder and squirm. Getoг did not remain in debt for long, he indecently lifted Gojo's skirt and quickly pulled off his underwear.
“Kya-ya, Suguru-kun!” He screamed again like an anime girl. Getou's eyes widened.
“You… Are you also wearing women's underwear?!” He looked up at Gojo with a dumbfounded look.
“Please don't tell Shoko...” he giggled. “She only allowed me to take a skirt.… The rest… I had to get it. She's going to kill me!
“You're just... something.” Getou exhaled. Thin girlish panties didn't cover Gojo's erection in the slightest, and he tried to shove his cock upward, but it was obvious how uncomfortable it was. His scrotum dangled to one side and without support it didn't feel secure either. Getou felt like the dirtiest pervert in the world as he pulled Gojo's woman's panties down over his stockinged thighs and got under his skirt like in a tent. He began sucking, paying particular attention to his balls. Gojo twitched and moved closer. He was trying hard too, kneading and pressing lightly on Getou's cock, from which the pre-ejaculate was flowing generously. The socks of his stockings caught the drops and rubbed them higher, the stiff nylon was getting wet and painful, especially when Gojo started to play with the head. Getou kept up with him and took the other man's cock in his mouth, choking on it every time Gojo got particularly rough with it. His mouth was filling with saliva all too quickly. Getou thrust himself more roughly, tears of pleasure running down his cheeks and saliva from the corners of his lips, the tight fabric of the skirt and Gojo's gorgeous thighs were surrounding him, he felt like the happiest man in the world, not thinking about anything.
Gojo could barely keep from cumming, the blowjob from Getou was wet, he already felt saliva on his thighs, and soon on his feet — Getou came first right on them, unable to hold on any longer. Gojo rubbed his cum over his stockings and went over the entire length of the other’s penis again. They both puffed and moaned, clinging to each other: Getou grabbed Gojo by the hips and skirt edges, and Gojo grabbed his shoulders and hair. Satoru's orgasm was also approaching, he pulled Getou away from his groin, but, not calculating the speed of his discharge, accidentally poured out on his face.
“Ah... damn it… I'm sorry...” Gojo widened his eyes in surprise. He didn't expect it, but the sight of Getou wiping his cum off his face was mesmerizing.
“Don't apologize...” Geto was clearly delighted. “To take a cumshot on my face when you look like this… It's something.” He pulled Gojo by the hand and sat him down beside himself. “You're amazing.”
They kissed, reaching for that kiss at the same time.
Shoko was sitting in her room smoking. There were aahs, oohs, sighs, juicy wet slaps and the creaking of the bed from behind the wall.
«Having fun, these perverts… God, it's hard to work as a matchmaker. They'll keep me up all night after stealing half of my closet.» — she thought, sighing and throwing the cigarette into the ashtray. «Satoru, you're going to buy me new clothes. I won’t wear panties, skirt and stockings that both of you have finished off on.»