Kylie wore the cutest white thigh-high stockings under a tiny pleated skirt that barely covered her ass. The park was quiet that afternoon, just a few joggers and one guy sitting alone on a bench scrolling his phone. She walked past him slow, making sure the breeze lifted her skirt enough to show the lace tops of those stockings and the bare cheeks underneath.
He looked up. She smiled, stopped, and sat right beside him, crossing her legs so the skirt rode higher.
“Like what you see?” she asked, voice playful.
His eyes dropped to her thighs. Kylie reached over without another word, unzipped his jeans, and pulled his cock out into the open air. It thickened fast in her soft hand. She stroked him slow at first, thumb circling the head, spreading the precum that leaked for her.
She tightened her grip and worked him faster, the wet sound of her fist on his shaft mixing with the distant traffic. Her other hand slipped under her skirt and rubbed her own clit while she jerked him. The stockings stayed perfectly in place, framing everything.
He was breathing hard, hips twitching. Kylie leaned in close, lips brushing his ear.
“Cum for me. Right here.”
She pumped him harder, twisting on the upstroke, until he groaned and shot thick ropes across her knuckles and onto the grass. She kept stroking until he was empty, then licked her fingers clean while he watched, dazed.
Kylie stood, smoothed her skirt down over the stockings, and walked away like nothing had happened—leaving him with his cock still out and the memory of those cute white thighs wrapped around the dirtiest handjob of his life.