tagFetishAffair with a Pantyhose Nymph Ch. 01

Affair with a Pantyhose Nymph Ch. 01

byJustNylons©

I was a nineteen year old guy fresh out of high school and facing a possible ten year prison sentence due to my involvement in a mugging last July. It was now October and the court system seemed to be taking its time to go through the arraignment and pre-trial process. If I were to say the thought of prison didn't scare me I would be lying. In fact I was so scared and so ashamed of my actions that I had serious thoughts about suicide. In many ways a part of me, a huge part, thought suicide would be the right choice. I hated what I did even though no one was hurt, but I guess the guilt compounded by a conscious awareness that I actually deserved prison was too much to handle. On top of that guilt there was a part of me that felt empty, a part that felt neglected and as if my mind and my bodies reactions to odd stimuli were somehow warped.

When I was just a small child as young as the first or second grade I could remember looking at my teachers pantyhose covered legs and feet with an amazement that I couldn't possibly understand at the time. I remember my female classmates at the time and how I loved to look at their legs and feet while they were covered in white tights. Again I had no understanding of why I enjoyed the shape or smooth look of them. As I grew up and moved from grade to grade in school so did the girls I would look at.

I remember vividly when I was thirteen and the first time I had a sex dream; this also happened to be the first time I had a wet dream. It was a Sunday night and I could not get the memory of Jaime's pantyhose covered feet out of my mind. Earlier that day I was at church and Jaime, a girl just a year younger than me was dressed in her Sunday best. She was wearing white semi-opaque tights with some sort of cheesy looking heeled shoes that didn't fit her very well. While we were in our Sunday school class she had taken her shoes off to make her feet more comfortable. I remember her calmly and discretely rubbing her feet together and the slight sound they made as the individual threads that made up the pantyhose that were covering her feet made. Later that night while I was sleeping I remember dreaming about that sound, the curves of her feet and the way they rubbed up against each other. In my dream her feet was in my lap and my hands were rubbing them. I awoke from that dream with my body spasming and a sensation running through my body like none other I had ever felt or heard of before. In all honesty I really had very little understanding of what had happened to me.

As the next few months passed I grew to actually look forward to my night-time dreams and the great feeling I received from them, and within 6 months I understood how to cause that feeling to happen anytime I chose. School was a breading ground for mental snapshots and mentally stored video that I would use to stimulate my mind after I arrived home from school and a few times while I was still in class. I remember saving money I got from Christmas and my birthday so that I could buy an instant Polaroid camera. This was a few years before affordable digital cameras became available. I used that Polaroid camera to take pictures of girls in class and the girls from the dance squad that always wore glossy tan pantyhose under the little short skirts of their dance uniforms. Taking pictures of the pantyhose feet of the girls in my class was fairly easy, none of them seemed the slightest bit concerned or creeped out by it as long as I complimented them on their outfit and shoes and made sure I took a picture of their full body and face as well. There were times when I even joked around and told the girl that I had a foot fetish and I wanted a picture of them to go with the rest of my collection and very few of them thought for a second I was being serious.

By my junior year in high school it all began to catch up with me with roomers that seemed to propagate themselves around the social ranks of the student body as if the roomers themselves had a mind of their own. I had to retire my camera so that I could hopefully stifle the roomers and feel a little less of an anomaly and a societal outcast. One girl by the name of Amy was a friend of a friend. She wasn't really my type or a girl that I had much interest in, but I still made moves on her hoping that she would be my gateway out of suburban virginism. One night her and I was out on a date and she wanted to know more about me. She promised if I told her a secret about me, she would then tell me a secret about her. I was looking for understanding of my foot fetishism that I really had little to zero understanding of if I was alone in this attraction. I told her about it, not in so much detail at first and she didn't laugh. I told her more about it and gave her details about my photo collection; again she didn't seem creeped out. The next day at school Amy asked me to not talk to her anymore and for me to leave her alone. At first I was confused as to why she was acting this way and then I heard from another student that Amy had told her friend about what I told her about my foot fetish and the entire ordeal spread like wildfire and caused me to be ostracized from the social ranks of my piers as if I was a carrier of the Ebola virus and my words or stare alone would cause their flesh to melt off their bones.

A little over a year later I graduated high school and I was still a virgin. I couldn't fathom that I was going to face adulthood as someone that has never felt the warmth of a woman and had little understanding that I wasn't alone in my fetishes.

July 1993 my friend and I made plans to mug the person making the bank drop of the local grocery store where I used to work part-time. I parked near by out of site as my friend waited for the manager to exit the store with the bank deposit in her purse. He grabbed her purse and ran the 200 yards to the car where I was waiting and then we drove away. A few days later we were arrested. Hey, I never claimed to be a mastermind.

As I said at the beginning I was facing 10 years in prison for my involvement in this crime and I deserved every bit of it. In October I was stressed out and wanted to kill myself as a means of not only running from my shameful criminal act but also to run from my loneliness attributed to feeling isolated in my seemingly weird fetish. One of the things I done to try and show the courts and the prosecutor that I was salvageable was for me to return to church for the first time in years. I know a criminal finding faith is somewhat of a cliché but I was desperate.

I walked into church and I made plans on sitting in the back roll so that I could go virtually unnoticed and then there she was; it was Jaime. I couldn't believe it; Jaime was still going to that church after all those years. It seemed like yesterday she was this twelve year old girl who was teasing my thirteen year old self with her feet. She wasn't twelve anymore, and I wasn't thirteen. She had grown into this unbelievably attractive eighteen year old woman. I immediately thought back to the origins of my fetish and how its beginnings surrounded the images of her petite feet covered in white nylons. It made me smile and as she was walking to her seat she looked toward me and she remembered me to. We both walked toward each other and gave each other a friendly hug and made small talk while we waited for church to begin.

For the next week I thought about her and for some reason I could not get her out of my head. I decided I had to ask her out, I had to find out if she had any sort of feelings for me because I knew I had feelings for her that went beyond a mere attraction to a memory I had of her. I spent a few hours writing her a letter where I explained to her all the trouble I was in. I handwrote six pages where I poured my heart out to her. I explained how I always had a little crush on her but I didn't dare tell her anything about my foot fetish. I wrote about the prison sentence I was facing and how scared I was because of it. I guess a part of me really was looking to unload some of my fears and another part of me was eagerly seeking some sort of companionship to fill the empty void that seemed to be expanding inside of me as if my soul was evaporating.

The very next Sunday morning I went to church and as it was letting out I stepped outside and waited for her Jaime to leave so that I could hand her the letter I had written. When she walked out I handed her the note as I smiled and said, "I know handing you a note is a little juvenile but I want to go out on a date with you and I think you should know a little about me before you decide if you would like to."

She took the note and smiled as she walked away. I was so nervous; I mean what girl who goes to church would want anything to do with a criminal who would be a party to stealing from others?

Later Sunday evening I returned to church for evening services and she was also there. I pictured her handing me back the note and telling me to please leave her alone just before she walked away, but that didn't happen. Instead she hugged me and said, "We all make mistakes, some are huge mistakes, but what kind of person would I be if I couldn't overlook yours."

We made plans on going out that Thursday on October 14th. That was also the start of a more than three year relationship that would be far more satisfying than any relationship I have had since.

February 17th was the last date I had with Jaime prior to my sentencing that was to take place on the 19th. Jaime and I was sitting in my 1977 Ford LTD. She was listening to me talk about the likelihood of me going to prison in two days. She tried her best to calm my nerves and ease my worries. She was leaned against the passenger door and she put her feet in my lap. She rubbed my leg with her feet as if she was soothing my worries away. She had cotton stretch pants on with sheer tan pantyhose underneath. Her feet looked, felt and once again sounded so nice as they moved. I tried to resist the urge but my hands could no longer remain still. I began to gently massage her feet. Oh, dear God I can still remember how soft they felt to my hands, how the shape of the arch of her feet and curves of her calves felt. Her toes were painted with red nail polish and how they looked so cute and so adorable as they wiggled while encapsulated in sheer tan nylons. I was so aroused by this and she noticed I was aroused. Without warning and almost as if God granted me a blessing she began to rub my penis with her oh so sexy feet. I couldn't believe this was happening; it felt so dam good. She used her toes to undue the button to my jeans and worked my zipper down as she continued to rub my penis. I was so hard, it felt so good. The look of her feet as they stroked me through my underwear was so very sexy. She said to me, "Pull your pants and underwear down".

I would have been a fool if I didn't comply with her request. She used both of her sheer tan color pantyhose covered feet to stroke my penis. It felt so good. My hands guided her feet in perfect unison with the thrusts of my hips as I squirmed. In the last few seconds before I cummed she said something to me that I had always longed to hear from a woman, "Cum on my feet, cum hard. Do it, cum for me".

I did, I cum on her feet as she squeezed the arches of her feet tightly against my cock. She then gently and slowly massaged me as I regained my sense of self.

"I have always wanted to do that to a guy", Jaime said as she took her pants off and then her pantyhose off so that she could wipe up the stray cum off of me with her nylons.

She then reached into the back pocket of my pants that lay on the floor around my ankles and took a condom out of my wallet. She placed the condom on me and pulled her panties off before climbing on-top of me and fucked me for a half hour straight, taking away my virginity as if she was a thief I willingly and wantonly invited into my car.

She rested her satisfied and content body against my chest with me still inside of her and we slept for a few minutes feeling each others heart beating as if they had become one. I knew at that moment that I had fallen in love with her and at that moment I knew the feeling was mutual.

End of Chapter 1

-Chris Newman

A.K.A. Just Nylons

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by Anonymous

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by Anonymous02/28/14

No Chapter 2,3 or 4?

I loved your story. It does need some work being that proper punctuation, sentence and paragraph structure wasn't always used and the grammar was often a little off. However there is a real authenticitymore...

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by Anonymous10/21/13

Rubbish

Your just a wanker

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