Nissa's Nylons

Whew, so, how to start? This is going to sound craz- No, too obvious. Here's the story of how I got all the fetish sex I ever wanted. All right, a little more appealing, but pretty boring and doesn't really capture the weirdness of it all. How about, Hi, I'm Carson, and this is how I wound up fucking my mom's feet.

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Let's get all the biographical stuff out of the way. I'm 19 years old and going to community college - formerly in Arizona but now in Virginia. Up until about 7 months ago, I was living with my dad, Danny. But he got in a car wreck, and now he's gone. I wish I could say I was sad. He didn't raise me, my grandparents did. My mom, Nissa, had me when she was just a teenager and my dad was 22. He was starting out as an auto mechanic, she was still in high school. He couldn't resist the spicy half-Latina girl, and she must have been attracted to his grease-spotted roughness. Let's just say that family planning wasn't part of the equation, and when I arrived, she couldn't take care of me. But neither could he, so I wound up with my grandmother and grandfather on my dad's side. Throughout my childhood, my only exposure to my mother was when she would take me to her Catholic church, or occasionally out shopping for a treat or a toy. Then it was back to Ma and Pa.

Mom and dad were never married, and they eventually parted ways to pursue their respective careers. Dad stayed in Arizona, mom headed off to the east coast working in banking. Officially, I was in dad's custody, but he never had time for me, and I kept living with his folks until I was a sophomore in high school. Ma and Pa were getting too old, and dad had an attack of conscience and wanted to play at being a father, so I went to live with him. But the formative years were gone and we never really got close. We fought far more than we bonded. After making his way up to district manager, he was always busy at work, acting more important than he really was. Danny always had an angry tirade at the ready, after which he always had someplace else to be. He still couldn't keep his hands off younger women he should have been smart enough to steer clear of. Apparently he at least learned his lesson about pulling out or wearing a rubber; I don't have any other siblings bumbling around (that I know of). He didn't have enough saved, so I had to pay my own way through community college working odd jobs, and I couldn't afford to do that and make rent. So even though I was legally an adult, I still lived with him, at least until his wreck. At that point if I wanted to finish school, the only option was to transfer across the country and live with my mom. I had only seen her on occasion over the last decade and I figured it would just be a chance to mooch off another estranged parent for a couple more years until I could get some work and strike out on my own. How wrong I turned out to be!

Moving across the country was remarkably easy. I didn't have a lot of stuff to box up, and I certainly didn't give a shit about Scottsdale. My friends had already gone off to other schools, and there wasn't much for me to be sad about in saying goodbye to the city. Screw that place, my life had never been good there anyway. Not that I was excited about Richmond. As far as I was concerned, life was just one long progression of annoying-ass schools I had to slog through before I could get a job and earn a living. So I took my half dozen boxes of junk and clothes - and one carefully packaged gaming PC - FedEx'ed them to my mom's address in Virginia, and got on a plane. When I arrived, I was greeted by the woman who brought me into this world, but whom I barely knew. Mom took me into her arms, and at the time I felt nothing. Too much shock about what had happened to dad, worthless jerk though he was. Too much cynicism about moving across the country just for a couple more years of free rent. If there was a part of me that registered that a fashionably dressed, smoking hot Latina was pulling me into her ample chest with a warm embrace, I wasn't aware of it at the time.

Oh, don't get me wrong, I love big melons and a juicy peach as much as the next guy, but my first love has always been legs and feet: the curve of the thigh, the swell of the calf, the narrow ankle, the firm heel, the graceful arch, the delicate toes. And that love is inseparable from my love of nylons and high heels, the accessories that transform pretty legs and feet into objects of pure sex. I don't know why, but all my life I've had a thing for women in nylons. Stockings, but especially pantyhose, drive me completely crazy. When I see a woman go by with that telltale sheen on her legs, it doesn't matter what I'm doing - I might be carrying on a conversation, saying some bullshit, but what I'm really thinking about are those lovely legs and shapely feet wrapped in butter-smooth fabric. Classy high heels are the ultimate companion to a fine pair of stems, flexing the thighs and calves into sculpted perfection and propping up a plump pair of ass cheeks to make them look ready for sin. I know more than any straight guy should about brands of heels, designers, and styles, and I'm always silently judging women by their shoes. That heel is too short, that ankle strap would be cuter with a different buckle, that open toe is nice but the color doesn't go with your toenail polish. And of course, skirts are a necessity, just to make sure all those other assets are properly shown off to the world. I'm not picky about skirts except to say that the shorter and tighter, the better!

So, with all that, I'd been jerking off to nylon porn for as long as I could remember. Women wearing pantyhose could get a guy off with their feet, their ass, their thighs, their calves, in a dozen different positions. Or a guy can just tear a hole by the gusset (the panel that wraps over her crotch - a fetishist has to learn his terms!) and give himself easy access to her tight asshole or her warm, wet cunt. Every day after work or class I fired up some videos, put my cock in my hand, dreamed my hot nylon dreams, and creamed into a sock or an old shirt.

That wasn't all I had done. I'd hooked up with a couple of girls by this point, one towards the end of high school, and another my first year in college. But neither of them had ever realized any of those fantasies for me. My high school girlfriend and I worked our way through those first awkward sexual encounters together, and after a few months we were having a pretty good time. I was working up the courage to tell her about my fetish and see if she was receptive. But then one day when discussing their outfits for the winter formal dance, she had a conversation with her best friend, right in front of me, about how gross it is when guys are into pantyhose. They both said they didn't get it and laughed about how anyone could be into something so weird and unappealing. At that point, no way could I tell her that all I wanted was for her to wear nylons for me. That wasn't what ended the relationship, but it certainly didn't help. Before graduation we were through. And after all my eager anticipation of university hookup culture, my one college relationship by this time was disappointing. We had a fling for a few weeks that satisfied no one and went nowhere. So far, I was 0 for 2 on finding a woman who would accept me, understand me, and indulge me with what I truly wanted.

Anyway, I wound up moving into the spare bedroom of my mom's house in Richmond. We were mother and son, but I could count on one hand the number of times I'd seen her in the last few years. Maybe I should have been angry with her, hated her for not being there for me. But I'd gotten along fine with Ma and Pa, and I'd survived dad. By now, I was past being upset. Being estranged from my parents was just a fact of life. And coming to live with her only when I was already out of high school, it wasn't really like reconnecting with a long lost mother at all. I was an adult moving in with another adult. An older woman who I'd known from childhood, like a friendly neighbor perhaps, but basically just a new roommate. And I have to say, I really respect the way Nissa handled it. Aside from a slightly embarrassing welcome party at a local restaurant, she didn't give me some ludicrous outpouring of gifts and praise trying to buy my love. She didn't ask me to tell her my whole life story and cry about all the things she'd missed. In short, she didn't try to catch up on 19 years apart. I think she'd made her peace with our family situation a long time ago too. Nissa did want us to become close, but she didn't try to create a relationship overnight. She gave it time, having conversations with me of an evening after work or school, then going back to doing her own thing and letting me do mine.

Ironically, I think her willingness to take it slow is what put me at ease, and we started to connect much quicker than if she had tried to force it. After about four months of living there, we had really warmed up to each other. And it started to be... something unique. Partly two people getting to know and respect each other, and partly a mother and son starting to be familiar and even loving in the way that, well, family is supposed to be. Sooner than I would have thought possible, I wasn't calling her "Nissa," but "Mom."

Of course, I was still a hormone-soaked teenager, which meant certain habits that required me to have my alone time. In that time, I kept loading up the usual pictures and videos to get off to. But as I started to adjust to the new situation - new home, new school, new city, building a relationship with my mom from scratch - my behavior started to change. And by my behavior, I mean what porn I watched. I wanted to be as indifferent to my mom as I had been to dad, but I couldn't stay willfully oblivious forever. I was living with a fine mid-thirties Latina, and god did she have a body.

Let's start at the top. Naturally, she had the long, dark brunette hair of Latin women everywhere, although hers was rather thin, and she almost always kept it up in a bun - neat for work, messy at home. Her face was lovely, with deep dark eyes, a cute little nose, and sharp cheekbones framing thin but sensual lips. Having had a white father and a Mexican mother gave her faintly brown skin with that slight flavor of the exotic, along with that touch of extra thickness in all the right places. Nissa had what must have been D-cup breasts - not pornstar huge but certainly able to squeeze together for some very distracting cleavage on the occasion she wore something a bit deeper cut. Her waist narrowed a bit, then flared into a bubbly ass that made even the most relaxed-fit jeans look clingy. At five foot six, her height was all legs. And what legs they were! Those slender but muscular stems, softened with just enough flesh in just the right places, could have been drawn by a comic book artist. Those toned thighs and smooth calves made me wonder what she did to get in shape - could she have been a cyclist? Swimmer? Dancer? Well, not ballet at least. No sign of that kind of stress on those pretty, size eight feet and toes.

At the time though, the problem was I never got to see most of that. What I knew of her body had to be gleaned from stealing quick glimpses here and there, when her pajamas clung just right, or when she briefly emerged in a towel in a rush to get ready for work. Or, on occasion, from sneaking into her room and checking the labels on her shoes and bras. Mom's job was at a major regional office for Liberty Coast Bank, convincing commercial customers to sign loans for businesses and large residential properties. She was an office lady, and she dressed the part, meaning conservative blouses and jackets that certainly downplayed - but couldn't totally hide - her curves. Even outside of work, she wore decent clothes and looked nice enough, but nothing that really showed off the curvaceous treasure buried beneath. But the saving grace of high pressure office environments is that they are one of those few remaining bastions where the work culture still demands certain feminine touches: skirts, high heels, and nylons.

Every morning she'd leave for the bank, my ears reflexively pricking up at the sultry sound of her heels clicking across the tiled foyer on her way out. Every evening she'd come back, typically padding back in through the front door in her hosed feet while carrying her shoes in her left hand and keys in her right. Of course the skirts were a little too long, the heels a little too short, and the nylons a little too concealed for my preference. But suddenly those things I had only dreamed of were within sight every day. My conscious mind still had a huge barrier in place against noticing how my mother looked or dressed. But my subconscious? I was being fed a steady supply of bait for all my fetishes, and pretty soon my porn searches started shifting from nyloned teen girls like cheerleaders and baristas to be more focused on secretaries, bosses, any woman who worked in a professional setting. Search terms like "pantyhose office slut", "secretary nylons shoe play", "hot boss in stockings joi", and the like started to take over. And the word "milf" started to creep in.

Then one day while Nissa was away at work, I was back in my room searching one of my porn sites with the term "pantyhose banker footjob". Of course, to you reading this, it's pretty obvious why, but at the time it didn't even register on me. In my testosterone-filled mind it was just another theme to go along with "maid", "nurse", "teacher" and all the other usual porn tropes I searched for. Any old clichéd setup is good enough for me if it at least gives an excuse for the woman to wear stockings and heels, and they usually do. Although in most videos, when they're tearing each other's clothes off and zooming way in on his dick pounding her snatch, I'm usually thinking, "Another perfectly good pair of nylons ruined with runs down the thighs. And could you zoom out a little so I can at least see her legs and shoes while those cheeks are clapping?" Anyway, eventually I found some subtitled Japanese video that seemed like it would do the trick. It looked like all the other office porn I'd been watching, but the subtitles were something about how the guy was behind on payments to the bank and the woman was going to have to punish him for it. Funny how the "punishments" in porn always wind up being a chance to get your rocks off...

The woman in the video is very petite and very pretty, as Asian girls often are. She gets up from her desk chair and walks around in front of the guy. The camera pulls back just long enough for us to see that she's wearing some 4 1/2 inch heels with a slight platform and open toes, leading up into some long, slender legs encased in black hose, and topped off with a ludicrously short skirt that barely came down to the thigh band of the pantyhose. Now this is how I wish women dressed in real life, I thought to myself. After click-clacking her heels across the office floor - ah, my favorite sound! - the woman sits down on the front of her desk and starts slowly crossing and re-crossing her legs, swinging them wide and giving the seated guy a perfect close-up of her toned thighs and a generous view up her skirt each time. At this point my cock is already starting to firm up in my hand; nothing like a little leg tease to get me going. She keeps talking to him but at this point I'd mostly given up on reading the words. Now she starts to dangle her tall, open-toed pumps from her feet, one after the other, extending her leg and swinging her shoe gently, hypnotically in front of his face before dropping it on the floor right between his spread legs. God how I wished a woman would tease me like this; slowly, playfully, knowing that she has me in the palm of her hand - or perhaps, the sole of her foot.

Finally, she starts rubbing her foot on the obvious bulge in the guy's slacks, and before long, he unzips and pops his cock out for some more direct friction. As a guy with seven or more inches of hard meat in my hand, it takes me out of the fantasy when the guy's prick is too short. On this vid though, the guy had enough to work with that it didn't bother me, and he's getting bigger as she keeps teasing. Pretty soon, she puts both of her feet on his shaft. She's stroking this guy off with her toes while... insulting his business acumen or something? Who cares! I had a pair of worn boxers wrapped around my dick that were starting to get soaked through with pre-cum because I'd let a woman say anything if she was doing that to me.

Before too long I was really worked up, stroking and squeezing, edging myself and backing off while the video kept running. Eventually the couple starts moving to other positions of course, but I was still dreaming about having those two soft little feet encircling my rod, caressing my balls. My cock was twitching and my balls were getting tight. I was getting close... closer... ready to satisfy that craving... when I heard a noise through the closed door behind me. Oh my god, that's the sound of mom's keys. How did she get in without - I mean, normally I hear her close the door behind her when - ah shit, no time to think! My right hand flew off the mouse and instantly hit the mute button on my PC sound bar. My left hand was tucking my throbbing cock back in my boxers and trying to get my pants back up while I scooted my chair forward under the desk to hide my crotch. But with my left hand occupied, I couldn't hit the keyboard to close the video. Okay, don't panic, right hand back to mouse, click on something, anyth-

"Hi honey, I got home a bit early today. The store I was gonna go to was closed. How was class?" I had clicked away to a Word document for a school assignment just in the nick of time. But I was far from safe. The sudden shock of my mother coming within a split second of catching me dick-in-hand had a terrible effect. That nervous jolt was just enough to send my well-stroked cock and tense blue balls over the edge. I was looking over my shoulder at my mother, barely able to see straight because I was suddenly cresting a soundless wave of pleasure just beneath the surface of my desk.

"Uh. Yeah. Uh. Fine. School was. Good." My cock quietly thumped the underside of the desk, muffled by the hastily arranged boxers and jeans as they started to fill up with hot cum. My gaze took Nissa in. Caramel nylon wrapped her toes, her ankles. Her legs were obscured but suggestively silhouetted by a long, navy blue skirt clinging to her form all the way from mid-calf up past those round hips to a narrow waist. Her pleated white blouse had only two small buttons undone, just enough to form the slightest triangle of tan skin at her neck pointing down toward her breasts tenting the fabric. As my eyes finished rising up my mother's body, I suddenly locked eyes with her, trying to hold her gaze so she wouldn't look around and notice anything else. But I knew she must have been able to see my face flushed bright red from the blend of surprise, embarrassment, and orgasmic glow. Trying to concentrate on breathing evenly without moaning, I must have sounded like I had asthma or something. What could I expect her to think? How could she possibly interpret this? Come on, Carson, hold it together. It doesn't matter what she thinks as long as she doesn't realize you're literally busting a nut right this very second. Staring right into her eyes. Cumming a big, hot load in your pants while you gaze at your mother's lovely face.

"...Ummm, okay!" she said. "I was going to ask for your help unloading the car but it looks like maybe you're uh-" Trying to have both an orgasm and a panic attack while keeping a straight face? "-you know." She pinched two fingers together and touched them to her lips. It took my overloaded brain a second. The motion for smoking a cigarette. She thinks I'm... smoking weed? Okay, I don't actually smoke weed, but at this point I'll take it. Anything but "Hey, does it smell like spunk in here?" Which it probably did, considering that I was somehow silencing a whole-ass orgasm, pump after pump of fresh, hot sperm cooked up for my favorite fetish porn and released by my mother, while trying to her. Even in these insane circumstances it still felt so, so fucking good. And I couldn't let a twitch of it show on my face.