Intro

Ok, so this story probably wont be as cool as the title, but im deciding to take a shot. This is about my experience with my pantyhose fetish, and how it affects me.

Let's rewind a few decades..

Im back at my grandparents house, sitting cross-legged ok the ground and playing video games. In the other room i hear her. My grandmother. She was a person who was fun, and cheeky without trying. She always had the most outlandish, delishish recipes that I'll likely never be able to replicate1. She also liked to wear nylons. This last fact didnt strike me as out of the ordinary until one day when she asked for a foot massage. Throughout the massage i became absorbed in the smooth, skin tight material. I stared at how frictionless the soft material was in my hands, and the subtle 'swish' as my fingertips glided over it. Looking back, im sure it was obvious that shivers went down my back.

After that moment, i would always glance out of the corners of my eyes, just to see if i could catch a glimpse of the object that felt like a scientist combined splendor and joy, bottled it, and sold it as a drink.

I was meandering one day at the supermarket. I didnt know at the time, but that day would change the direction of the remainder of my life. I looked up from an idle daydream to see that i was in the hosiery section. Thats when it became apparent to me, that i could purchase my own essence of heaven, and indulge in it for myself. My parents have always beem open minded. Thankfully. When i nonchalantly placed a pair of women's pantyhose in the cart, my dad had a light chuckle then pretended not to notice. He bought them for me. From then on it became something that was special to me. Its an activity that brings me an ever-changing joy beyond words. And all from a simple, .99 cent pair of pantyhose.

-thanks for listening guys, hope you enjoyed it!