Date: Mon, 23 Apr 2012 12:13:02 -0400
From: Ed Ward <adulted@email.com>
Subject: Nylon fetish, almost my first

For as long as I can remember, I have not been able to resist a woman
wearing suntan nylons.  As a young boy, my earliest recollections of sexual
arousal involved a woman's legs and feet in stockings.  As a toddler, I
would be under the dining room table rubbing the ladies legs.  The women
just smiled and let me play.  At an early age, I didn't know why, but I
knew I wanted and needed to both look at and feel their stocking covered
legs and feet.  I couldn't wait for parties of holiday events when the
women would gather dressed in stockings.

My mother's younger sister was 14 years older than I was, so she would
babysit for my brother, sister and I when my parents would go out.  My
parents would go out for dinner and drinks on Friday nights, and my aunt
would come straight from work.  She was a secretary (at the time I had no
idea what that was) and wore nylons every day to work.  She would slip off
her shoes, and I would do everything I could think of not to stare at her
stocking covered legs and feet.  I came up with the idea of giving her a
foot rub, since she was rubbing them together obviously tired from a long
day at the office.  I did my best to act like I was helping out my favorite
aunt, all the while helping myself to the most erotic activity that I could
imagine.

My cock wasn't big, but it did get hard.  I didn't know why, but I knew it
had something to do with looking at her stocking covered legs and feet.
Touching them only made it harder.  I somehow knew that I shouldn't let her
know that my little cock was rock hard.  I also knew that if she were to
discover how I was reacting, she would stop.  I rubbed her feet and went up
to maybe mid calf.  I didn't want her to stop me, so I didn't press my
luck.  One night she drifted into a light sleep, and I took that
opportunity to gently kiss her stocking foot.  For whatever reason, I did
not think that there would be a scent associated with her stocking feet
being inside of her leather shoes all day.  I just happened to inhale as I
was kissing her foot, and a wave came over me like nothing I had ever
experienced.  The arousal of the sight and feel of her stocking feet
suddenly paled in comparison to the scent of her feet in those nylons.
From that moment on, I knew that I would take every opportunity to rub,
kiss and inhale the scent of woman's feet in nylons.

Fast forward 10 years, and I am a 14 year old boy with a paper route.

I had a paper route delivering the morning paper before I had to go to
school.  The papers were 7 cents each, and papers were delivered Monday
through Saturday.  The bill for the week was 42 cents, and I collected
every other week for a total of 84 cents.  Most people would give me 85
cents, but the really big tippers would give me a dollar and say keep the
change.  That extra 16 cents paled in comparison to the tip that I would
receive in the future.

The houses in my development were split levels, with the living room being
about five feet higher than the recreation room where the front door was
located.  One Saturday afternoon as I was collecting, this particular home
owner opened the door and asked me to step inside.  She opened the door and
turned to get the money and the card that had to be punched to serve as a
receipt.  Standing with her back to me on the landing above was a woman
(who I would later find out was the home owner's niece) fixing her stocking
clasp.  It may have only been a second or two, but it seemed like a long
time to me, and I was sure that when she pushed her skirt down as if she
didn't know I was there, it was just a show.

Over a period of six months or so, I would see the niece (who I will call
Carol) both when I would collect every other week, but also walking through
the development to a local 5 & 10 cent store (precursor to the Dollar Store
of today).  I would always try to force some conversation so I could have a
chance to look at her stocking covered legs again, but at 14 I was not very
good at small talk especially when all I could think about was getting my
hands up her skirt.

I would collect on Friday evenings, Saturday afternoons, and if I still
hadn't been able to catch up with everyone, I would collect on Monday
afternoons after school.  This particular Monday, I saw Carol walking from
the direction of her job, toward her house.  I knew from always finding a
reason to go to the store that she normally worked later.  Doing my best to
stop my voice from cracking, I asked her why she was home so early.  Carol
said that she was just tired and that her legs and feet were killing her.
Thinking I would say something cute, I said "You should find someone to rub
them for you".  When she said she didn't know of anyone who would I tried
to respond without acting like I had just won the lottery (before they had
the lottery) I said, "I would be glad to rub them for her".  I was waiting
for her to say something about me being fresh and that she would call the
News Paper about what a brazen delivery boy they had.  Instead, she said
that would be nice, sure I could rub them for her.  I turned and walked
down the street toward her aunt's house.  For the entire two block walk I
wanted to start running and say hurry up.

When we got to her house, her aunt was at home, but we went directly into
the family room on the main entrance level of the house.  I sat on the
floor while she sat on a chair and slipped off her shoes.  I was careful
not to let her put her foot on my lap; because I was afraid if she knew how
hard I was she would realize that this was a sexual adventure, and not a
good will gesture.  At the time, I didn't realize that I was just as much
her prey as she was mine.  I was just too inexperienced to know how the
game worked.  Carol's aunt walked through the room and inquired what was
going on, but Carol assured her aunt that I was just giving her a foot rub
because they hurt so bad she had to leave work.  I was embarrassed to be
sitting there, but too excited to pass up what to that point was the
closest thing I had ever had to sex with a woman.  I finished rubbing her
legs and feet, never kissed them for fear I would expose my motives, and
told her that I hoped her feet no longer hurt.

How foolish was I?  I did not come back for two weeks.  There was no reason
for me to be there except to collect my 84 cents for the two weeks' worth
of papers.  When I rang the bell the next time, Carol answered the door and
asked me to step inside, but ran upstairs and came back down in a second.
There was the awkward few seconds after she paid for the papers and in my
best attempt to sound clinical, I asked if her legs and feet were giving
her any trouble.  When she said yes they were, I again offered my services.
This time we went up to the living room, where Carol sat on the sofa and I
rubbed her stocking covered legs and feet.  This time, she put her feet in
my lap.  At that point, I couldn't resist and I held the sole of her foot
up to my face and inhaled deeply while I kissed her stocking foot.  Carol
smiled and asked me if I like how her stocking feet smelled, and I just
shook my head yes because I didn't want to take the time to talk.  My
teenage erection was raging under the gently pressure she applied.  I had
been rubbing her feet for about 20 minutes, when I asked why she had run
upstairs when she let me in.  She told me that she was not wearing a
brazier and she could tell that I could see through her blouse.  I told her
that I couldn't and suggested that she look in the mirror in the dining
room.  When Carol went over to stand in front of the mirror, I walked
behind her and said, see you can't tell.  I put my arms around her waist,
started kissing her neck, and gently rubbing her breast through her silk
blouse.

She offered very slight resistance, and we gently lowered ourselves to the
floor where we kissed each other on the lips for the first time.  As I
kissed her and stroked her fully clothed body, she asked me if I had a girl
friend and if I ever had sex before.  I told her yes, I had a girlfriend,
but no I had not had sex.  Carol told me she did not want to be my first,
but I assured her that she could absolutely be my first.  She undid my
pants, and stroked me to a climax, telling me the next time to bring a
condom.

I couldn't imagine buying some condoms.  I knew nothing about them, only
that they were sold behind the counter at the drug store, and you had to
ask for them.  I had been telling an older teenager who lived across the
street from me about what had been going on, and he had some condoms.  He
showed me how to put one on by rolling one down his finger, telling me to
be careful that no hair got caught in the ring as it rolled down my penis.
He also told me about foreplay technique of oral sex.  He told me how he
would "eat" his girlfriend and she loved it, so if I wanted to Carol really
hot, do that first.  I was set.  However, I still had no reason to return
prior to the next time my paper bill was due.  I waited the two weeks and
again rang her door bell to collect.  I just couldn't say here I am, lets
fuck just like you promised.  She and I walked up into the living room and
she paid the 84 cents.  I punched her receipt card and then went through
the charade about helping with her feet, and started rubbing them again.
We soon started kissing and I told her I had brought a condom.

She laid on the living room floor, lifted up her skirt and took down her
panties.  I pulled my pants down to my ankles not even taking my shoes off.
I could feel my heart pounding through my chest as I rolled on the condom
and crawled on top of her.  While my cock was hard, I was so scared it just
wasn't going in.  It kept bending at the base and I was getting frustrated.
I remembered the oral sex thing, and slid down to put my mouth on her
vagina.  YEOW!  To this day, I don't know if she wasn't clean, or I just
had no idea what to expect (I now love the smell of a woman's sex) but my
eyes started to water and I felt like I was going to puke.  I figured that
my neighbor had lied to me.  Nobody really did that, so I crawled back up
to attempt to penetrate her.  Lying on top of her, I could see down into
the recreation room, and out the window.  Just as I was about to enter her,
I saw a car drive up in the driveway.  Holly Shit!  Who could this be?  I
had no idea, and didn't want to stick around to find out.  I jumped to my
feet, pulled up my pants, ran out the back door, hopped over the fence and
ran all the way home.  I didn't even take the condom off until I was in my
room.  I was looking out the window to see if anyone was following me, I
was scared to death.

Right on schedule, two weeks later I collected again.  The aunt who had
been gone for six weeks (I didn't have this information until after the
fact) answered the door.  For about the next six weeks, every time I
collected there was no Carol.  I finally asked the aunt, where was Carol.
She told me that Carol had been admitted to the State Mental Facility.  I
never asked why, and figured I would never see Carol again.

Fast forward another ten years.

I am now 24 years old and happen to stop into a Dunkin Donuts that is right
up the street from where I lived as a kid with my parents.  I drove up to
see my parents once a week, and often stopped for a coffee before I got to
their house.  It was a Saturday afternoon and the coffee shop was packed.
There were no seats at the counter, and a long line waiting for take-out.
As I am standing there, I hear someone saying "Paper boy, Paper boy" I
didn't look over and thought nothing of it.  Once again, I hear "Paper boy,
Paper boy".  So I look around to see who in the hell is saying those two
words almost like a chant over and over.  THERE SHE IS.  Sitting on the
opposite side of the shop, and we make eye contact.  Carol asks where I am
living now, and if I am still serving papers.  I just smile shake my head
no and say I am no longer serving papers.  I get my coffee waive, say
goodbye and leave.  The following week this time on a Sunday, I stop up to
see my parents again, but this time decide to sit at the counter for a cup
of coffee before I go to see my mom and dad.  The long "J" shaped counter
is packed, but there is one seat near the end.  Nobody is talking, and just
quietly drinking their coffee.  The waitress brings the coffee, with cream
already added.  I just have to put in the sugar.  I stir the sugar into the
beverage and am putting the cup to my mouth.  For whatever reason, I look
down the counter across the other side of the "J" and my eyes meet Carol's.
There isn't a sound in the shop, and just as I lift the cup to my lips
Carol almost yells out "Remember when you used to come over my house and
rub my legs and feet in stockings"?  Everyone looked at her, then at me.
With the cup to my mouth, I slowly nod my head yes.  I was afraid that if I
had denied it, she would have tried to refresh my memory.  I did not look
back at her again, quickly finished my coffee, left, and did not return to
that coffee shop for at least a year.

My fascination with women's legs and feet in suntan nylons has not
diminished.  It is an integral part of my fantasy world, and my girlfriend
is fantastic wearing suntan Leggs Sheer Energy pantyhose with a reinforced
toe as she puts her feet up to my face and tells me to inhale her scent as
she and her stocking clad feet and legs put me under her spell.  Everyone
says you will always remember your first.  I do, but I will also always
remember the woman that was almost my first.