HOW MY PANTYHOSE FETISH BEGAN Part 3

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HOW MY PANTYHOSE FETISH BEGAN Part 3
How my pantyhose fetish began… Pt 3

I wore Mom’s stockings for several months and fortunately never got caught with them. Approximately two weeks after getting the stockings I noticed a pair of pantyhose on my parent’s bed. I went in to look at them. They were a creamy shade of suntan and felt very soft. I found the shade extremely appealing. The pantyhose felt just like the pair I had worn previously, only the panty was different. I noticed the panty was the same fabric as the legs. I was insane with desire to wear the pantyhose. I left them on the bed and then went on a walk through of the house to see where everyone was.

Once I was certain the coast was clear I went back to the pantyhose. I balled them up and stuffed them in my pants pocket. Once in my bedroom I closed and locked the door. I was shaking with anticipation at putting the pantyhose on. I slowly began pulling them up my legs relishing the appearance of the suntan nylon on my legs. Once I got them up to my waist I walked around my room while looking at my legs. I was glad to have the nylon stockings but quickly decided that pantyhose were going to be my passion.

I was fascinated with the sheer panty which I had pulled over my briefs. I don’t know what led me to try wearing them without underwear but that is what I did. I quickly pushed the pantyhose down to my ankles and removed my left foot from the hose. I pealed my briefs down to my feet and stepped out of them. I then placed my left foot back into the bunched up stocking and pulled the pantyhose up. Once the panty began to cross over my little cock and ass I instantly popped a boner. I could not believe how good the nylon fabric felt against my hips, ass, balls and cock. I did not want the feeling to end but knew it must. I slipped the pantyhose off and quickly got dressed. I returned them to the bed with the thought that I had to have them when it became time for my mother to throw them out.

Only three days after discovering the suntan pantyhose I overheard Dad telling Mom that she had a run in her pantyhose. I waited a while before going downstairs and into the kitchen. My mother was standing at the kitchen sink wearing a dress, heels and off-black pantyhose. I took a quick glance at her legs and thought I saw a thin run emanating from the heel of her right shoe. If it was a run it was just barely above her shoe. I’d have to wait until she moved for the light to hit her legs differently. As she walked over to the refrigerator the light changed and I finally could see that she did have a very small run on her right heel. I was thrilled about it but also thought it might not be serious enough for her to throw the pantyhose out.

A short time later Mom had changed out of her dress and pantyhose. I waited a few hours before going on a hunt for the pantyhose. I popped into my parent’s bedroom and looked around for them. They weren’t on the bed, her dresser or in the chair. When I didn’t see them I thought to myself that she wasn’t ready to throw them out. Just as I was leaving the room the wastebasket caught my eye. I peeked inside and sitting on top was the pantyhose. I removed them from the wastebasket and examined them quickly. The pantyhose had sheer toes and a reinforced panty. Like the cinnamon stockings, the pantyhose had been tied together in the center of the legs. I thought it was a weird thing to do but the more I thought it through the more convinced I was that it was just the way she separated damaged hose from good ones. I dropped the pantyhose back into the wastebasket and made it my mission to eventually get them.

The next day Dad was making his way through the house as he emptied trash cans. I watched as he emptied the wastebasket in his room into the white plastic bag. I saw that the pantyhose had fallen into it. I then watched to see if he put any other trash in the bag, i.e., on top of the pantyhose. The cans were still in the garage and wouldn’t be taken out until late evening so I had several hours to get the pantyhose before the cans were put out at the curb.

Sometime later that afternoon I took my bike to the garage to put it away. Once in the garage I made a dash for the cans which were between the cars. I popped the lid off the first can and saw there were no white trash bags inside. I then popped the lid off the second and found the white trash bag sitting on top. I looked at the draw strings and they were not tied too tight. I worked the knot loose and opened the bag. I moved a few bathroom cups and a tissue box and found the pantyhose. I stuffed them inside my briefs and retied the trash bag then put the lid back on the can.

I went straight to my room and pulled the pantyhose from my underpants. The knot in the pantyhose was not as tight as the one in the cinnamon stockings. I was able to quickly untie the pantyhose. I balled them up and hid them in one of my shoes. Two days later I decided to wear the pantyhose under my pants. I knew I was taking a big risk but I really thought I could get away with it. Well, I did for a few hours but then my mother became suspicious. I don’t know what did it. I didn’t think I was behaving any differently but who knows, maybe it was just a vibe I was giving off. She made me lift my pant leg and then she went off. My father didn’t freak out but my mother made him the enforcer. I was told I was not going to continue to wear them and that I had to take them off immediately.

My father told me to get upstairs to my room as he followed behind me. Once inside my room he firmly ordered me to take them off. I knew he meant business so I reluctantly did as he said. While I took my sweet time removing my shoes, socks and pants he said to me “I know you remember me telling you not to take your mother’s pantyhose. I don’t want to have to tell you again. Why did you do it when I told you not to?” I replied “they had a run and were being thrown out, so why can’t I have them? I don’t see why I can’t have all her pantyhose with runs. If I get them then the pantyhose have a double life.” He said “I’m not going to argue with you about this and I’m not going to tell you again. You will not take your mother’s pantyhose, you will not wear pantyhose. I do not care how ruined the pantyhose are you are not to take them. Do you understand me?” I answered with a pouty “yes.” By now I had slipped the pantyhose off and was holding them balled up in my right hand. My father took the pantyhose from me and said “You had better not try to get these again.” He then whispered “do you still have any of those nylons?” I told him I did. He shook his head and said “I suggest you finish with them soon” as he walked out of my room.

Taking my mother’s ruined pantyhose continued for the next couple of years. Sometimes I managed to get away with taking pantyhose and other times I was quickly found out. During this time I also began to take notice of the brands of pantyhose she was wearing. Her preferred brands were L’eggs, No Nonsense and Round the Clock. I especially canlı kaçak iddaa liked the Round the Clock STW because they were extra soft.

Months later Dad went into a major spring cleaning “fit” and was getting rid of things in the basement we hadn’t used for some time as well as cleaning out the garage. He had loaded up the trunk of the car and asked me if I wanted to go with him to the junkyard. I told him I didn’t want to go but he persisted so I went. The term “junkyard” might be a stretch for the place. It was not unusual for people to rummage through and take something broken and try to fix it and often good things could be found that were left for people to discover.

It was an early April Saturday when we pulled up to the place and it was a little bit chilly and looked like it might rain. We were the only car there. As my father began unloading the car he told me not to go anywhere because he wasn’t going to be long. I walked only 15 feet from the car and something billowed on a pile of metal and wood. I watched intently as the breeze moved it again. Yes! My hunch was right. It was nylon. I made a dash for it. When I reached the location I found a single nylon stocking. I picked it up and looked at it. It was flawless and appeared to have never been worn. I began wondering if there could be more. I looked around and saw another one only a few feet from the first stocking. I picked it up and shoved it and the first stocking in my pocket. I was hoping there were more. I slowly gazed across the horizon and approximately 10 feet in front of me was a brown cardboard box. It wasn’t sealed and one of the flaps kept blowing in the breeze. I could just make out that nylon was inside. I quickly scanned the area to see if more nylons were loose. When I was sure there weren’t any more lose stockings I opened the flaps on the box. It was jam packed with ultra sheer nylon stockings.

At first I grabbed a handful and tried to stuff them in my pockets but being so young my pockets were small. As I tried to put the stockings in my pockets, Dad saw me and yelled for me to “drop that!” I stopped, turned and looked at him and said “okay” as I thought about what I was going to do because I had made up my mind I was not leaving without those nylons. I dropped the nylons in my hands into the box and pulled the ones from my pockets and stuffed them in as well. I picked up the box and headed toward the car.

Fortunately, my father did not know what I had found. All he knew is that I was picking things up and trying to put something in my pocket. Dad was just about finished when I got to the car. He asked what I had and I replied “Oh, just something I want to keep.” He asked “what is it?” before I could say anything he saw the single foot of a stocking that was outside the box. “Is that nylons in that box!” he said firmly. I wouldn’t answer but stood defiant. “I asked you a question” he said. Softly I answered “yes.” “You are not taking those nylons home, someone wore them, and they are dirty. I thought I made myself clear about this” he said. I was ready with my answer “they are brand new, I can tell and I want them.” “NO! Drop the box and get in the car. I jumped into the back seat still holding the box. Dad asked if I had the box and I said “yes.” He shook his head and started the car and we pulled out onto the road.

“You are not keeping those nylons. When we get home I’m taking them and I’m going to throw them away.” I replied “I don’t understand why I can’t have them. I like wearing them. They feel good on me and I like the way they look.” Dad said “little boys do not wear nylons and that is why you can’t have them.” I shot back “well this boy wears them and I am going to wear them whenever I want for the rest of my life!” At that point it hit my father that my like of nylons and pantyhose was more than an infatuation but a fetish in the making.

We continued down the road in silence for a bit and then he said “I’ll tell you what. We’ll make a deal. You can have the nylons for the rest of the weekend and then on Monday I want them. You have to give them to me to be thrown away and you have to be very discreet about having them. If your mother finds out you have them I’m going to be in trouble. Do we have a deal?” I answered “okay.”

When we pulled up in the driveway I made a beeline for my bedroom. I locked the door and dumped the contents of the box on the carpet. In front of me lay a mound of silky ultra sheer nylon stockings. For the most part the stockings were already paired. I sorted them by shade and matched up the few that were singles. When I was done I had 67 pairs of nylons. My little nylon genes were in hyper drive as I was on cloud nine. The box was clean and in excellent condition so I neatly stacked the stockings inside it. My mother was getting ready to go shopping and my siblings wanted to go with her. I asked “do I have to go?” and was told I could stay home with my father.

As soon as she pulled out of the driveway I headed for the basement. I wanted to play in my stockings down there because there was a large unfinished space that was much larger than my bedroom. Once down there, I stripped off my shoes, socks and pants. I opened the box and pulled a dark suntan pair of nylons from it. As I slipped them on I took note of the style. They were Hanes RHT. To walk around required me to hold each stocking by the welt. I needed a way to keep them up. I pulled the welt up through the leg opening of my briefs and used a clothes pin to pin the welt to the front waistband of my briefs. Because the nylons were nearly twice as long as my legs there was a puddle of nylon at my ankles. As I walked around the room the stockings worked there way off my feet and would trail behind me but I didn’t care because I was thrilled to have them.

I tried on seven different pair, one each of the different shades. All of them were Hanes RHT. At the time I didn’t know what that meant. Today I know they would be considered a major prize in vintage stockings. As I wore them I played with my Matchbox cars and played some records. Some time had passed and I suspected my Mom and siblings would soon be home so I slipped off my stockings and headed for my room. Once there I looked for a hiding place no one would think to look and settled on hiding the stockings between the wall and the headboard.

I went down to the kitchen to get something to drink. My father was sitting there drinking a beer and said “Remember our deal Michael, on Monday you have to give me that box of nylons.” “I know” I said. There was silence between us for a moment and then he Dad added “all of them.” “I know, I will” I replied. He didn’t say anything more about the subject and I was relieved.

Late Sunday morning Mom said we were invited to my grandparent’s for dinner. There were going to be three families there and Dad just didn’t want to deal with it so he said he was staying home. Surprisingly he also told Mom that I was staying home too. She asked why and he told her that he canlı kaçak bahis thought we needed some time to ourselves and that he had also promised me a pizza. Mom didn’t question him. I was thrilled that Dad had arranged time for me to play with the stockings. Mom and my siblings left just after noon.

As soon as they were in the car I pulled my box from its hiding place. I stripped off my shoes, socks and pants and began putting on stockings. I’d put on a pair and admire my legs and feet, as I rubbed my feet and legs together. After 10 minutes or so I would slip them off and put another pair on. Several times I wore the same shade. It was all about wearing all of them.

I had gotten through wearing half the box when I heard Dad at my door. I was sitting on my bed wearing jet black nylons, my briefs and a light blue button down shirt. He cleared his throat and announced that the pizza had arrived and then turned and headed down to the kitchen. For a moment, I hesitated getting up from my bed. I wondered “should I slip the stockings off, will Dad get angry if I wear them downstairs?” I decided to keep them on. After all, he knew I was wearing them and had given me the opportunity to wear them all day.

I slowly walked into the kitchen. Dad’s back was to me as he was at the counter. He turned partly when he heard me enter. He caught a glimpse of the stockings and did a double take but didn’t say anything. He got me a slice of pizza and I got my own drink and then we sat at the table. I was nervous but could sense that Dad was more comfortable than me. We made small talk about all the people who were invited to my grandparent’s as we ate. When I finished I asked to be excused and as I began to exit the kitchen Dad said “don’t forget our deal Michael.”

I darted up the stairs and began changing into and out of stockings. I put on pair after pair. I was determined to wear each pair at least once before Mom came home. I was pleasantly surprised to find that not a single stocking had a run, not even a snag. They were all pristine and for some reason I had the thought to sniff them. They smelled just like new nylons. I’ll never understand why they were tossed out but was very happy they were.

I had gotten carried away and had begun dr****g pairs over my bed, the footboard, the headboard and my toy box. I had done so because I wanted to see nylons everywhere. I found the leg shape of the stockings d****d across my bed and hanging from the boards very appealing. I can’t say I thought it was sexy because I didn’t know of such things at that time. Today I might describe the scene as being erotic.

It was beginning to get late and Mom wasn’t home yet. Dad came to my door and asked “what’s this? What’s going on in here?” as he surveyed my room. “I’m just playing” I answered. “It looks like you have a hosiery store in here” he chuckled. “I had no idea you had this many. I came to tell you that you should cleanup and get dressed because you Mother will be home soon.” I began picking up the strewn stockings one pair at a time. I then folded them and placed them in the box as Dad watched me. After having put three pair away Dad reached for the footboard and picked up a pair of black stockings d****d over it.

He held them up in front of him as he looked them up and down then said “these nylons look new, are all of them like this?” I answered him back “yes, I told you they had not been worn. They aren’t dirty and they are all new.” I continued folding pair after pair when he said “you don’t have time for that, just scoop them up.” I frantically tried to fold them before I put them in the box. I saw Dad bend down toward my bed and scoop up at least a dozen pairs in his hands. The stockings were hanging from his clutching hands, dangling and swaying with the slightest movement he made. I felt a pang of panic because I didn’t know what he was doing. I feared he was going to take them and the way his large hands swept up so many at once made me fear he would quickly take them all way.

He asked me for the box then told me to hold it as he shoved each fistful of nylon into it. I kept thinking to myself “that is not the way put away nylons” but didn’t say anything. Dad quickly realized I was going to continue folding them so he did as I thought he might and went about the room picking up several pair at a time. To my relief, he then shoved the stockings into the box. When we had finished the box looked as if nylon stockings had thrown up in it. I became aware that Dad was staring at me. He said “Michael, you have to take off those nylons.” I looked down and said “Oh I forgot.” I slipped the stockings off and folded them, while Dad shook his head. I then forced them into the box. Not 10 minutes later Mom arrived home. I was quite pleased with myself as I had been able to wear all of the stockings three times and several pair four times.

That night I slipped on a pair of taupe stockings then put my pajama bottoms on over them. I was not happy that the day was coming when I would have to give up “my” nylons. Morning came and I got ready for school. As was routine Mom was going to drive us. While Mom was upstairs Dad called me to the table and whispered “today is the day Michael. Remember our deal. You can play this afternoon before I get home from work. After dinner I want the box.”

I began to quietly protest and pout. I said “I don’t understand what the big deal is. I want them. If you let me keep them I won’t have to take Mommy’s old pantyhose.” He glared at me as he said “What? Michael, you better not take her pantyhose. You made a deal. I could have taken the nylons from you when you found them and I almost did. The reason I didn’t is because I didn’t want you to have a meltdown in public. I’ve been very fare with you. I want the box tonight.”

I was still pouting when Dad said “every pair of nylons had better be in that box too. I’m not playing. I’m going to throw them away. You can’t have them, period. As I’ve told you before young men do not wear pantyhose.” Still pouting I said “well guess what?” He asked “what?” I answered back “Someday I will have all the pantyhose I want and I will wear them whenever I want too and there is nothing anyone can do about it.”

He stared at me hard for a second then said “you’re right, when you are 18 you can wear all the pantyhose you want and I can’t say or do anything about it, but until then I can say and do plenty. It’s for you own good.” I answered back “well it feels terrible.” He tried not to smile and added “and don’t even think about rummaging through the garbage cans tonight because I’m going to put the box in the trunk of my car and get rid of it at work.”

I was about to cry. “Just settle down, when you come home this afternoon you’ll have some time to play and then that will be it. I’m throwing them away.” Hearing the words “throwing them away” was like a knife going into my gut. I was furious. Yes, I was upset to the point where I could cry but I was also seriously pissed off and that is something bahis siteleri canlı Dad had not picked up on.

As soon as I got home from school I retreated to my bedroom. My mother had an appointment with the Avon Lady so I knew she would be tied up for a while and then she would have to start dinner. I was free from interruptions until dinner and I was going to make the most of it. I grabbed the box of stockings and headed down to the basement. I locked the door between the recreation room and the unfinished portion of the basement and then stripped off my shoes and pants.

The box of stockings was pretty much a mess so I dumped it out on the floor. I reached into the pile of stockings and began matching up pairs. Once I had four matched pairs I slipped a pair on. I kept thinking about how I would soon have to give up my stockings. They were mine. I found them. I wasn’t hurting anyone or anything. Dad should be glad I found them because I won’t have to take Mom’s pantyhose. I kept trying to rationalize my father’s attitude as well as my Mom’s. I just could not comprehend what the big deal was about me loving nylons and pantyhose. The more I thought about turning over the stockings to my father the more my anger grew.

I imagined Dad going to work tomorrow with that box of stockings and telling the women in the office he had a box full of stockings and they were free for the taking. No one was getting my stockings I kept telling myself. The last thing I wanted was a woman wearing them. I quickly decided that if I could not have them no one would.

Though I’d never torn stockings before I imagined it wasn’t difficult to do. After all Mom got runs regularly. I purposely scuffed my feet along the basement floor with the thought they would run or develop holes. To my surprise, the stockings didn’t even snag. The floor was just too smooth. I approached Dad’s workbench and began looking at the different hand tools. I picked up a Phillips head screwdriver and punched it through the sheer nylon just below the welt of a stocking. A very small hole opened, and then a thin run raced halfway down the length of the stocking. I began punching several holes in the pair I was wearing then pulled on them to make them run.

The process was taking too long. It would not be too long before Dad came home and I had a lot of stockings to destroy. I pulled off the ruined stockings and slipped a new pair on then went back to the workbench in search of something else to use. The bucket for washing the cars was to the side. I looked in and saw a scouring pad. It was copper and just like the pads in the kitchen only Dad used this one on the whitewall tires. I removed the pad from the bucket. I was afraid it might cut my skin so I lightly brushed it across the front of my left leg. The pad severely snagged the stocking. Little threads of nylon wafted in the air. I dragged the pad across a second time and the snags were worse and a couple of them broke causing holes. When I pulled on the stocking it ran and shredded. I had found what I needed. I raked the scouring pad across each stocking as I wore them for the last time.

It took some time to wear each pair and then run them. I made sure each stocking was destroyed. Each one had at least three healthy runs from welt to ankle and some I ran the shit out of to the point they were like spider webs. By the time I had gone through all 67 pair I was exhausted and yet I felt a sense of accomplishment. I had ensured that no one was going to have my nylon stockings.

I haphazardly folded them and placed them in the box. I left the box under Dad’s workbench and got dressed. Twenty minutes later it was time for dinner. After dinner Dad went to the recreation room to watch the news. He called up to the kitchen asking me to bring him his cigarettes. I took them down to him. We were alone and he said “I think you have something for me?” Somewhat upbeat I replied back to him “yes, I do. They are back here on your workbench.” “You know you aren’t supposed to go near my workbench.”

He rose from the couch and followed behind me. When we got to the bench I pulled the box from underneath and handed it to him. I had managed to fold the flaps to keep the box closed. He looked at me then said “Michael, are all the nylons in here?” I cheerily replied “yeah they are all in there.”

He began to speak as he turned toward the bench. He said “I’m proud of you for honoring our agreement. I need to be able to trust your word and you can trust mine.” As he was speaking he opened the box to peek inside. He stared at the box then looked back at me. “What do we have here?” he said as he pulled a stocking out and held it up.

It was easy to discern that there were several runs in it. He pulled a second stocking out and held it up. Again it was obvious that the stocking had runs. Finally he picked out a third and held it up. There were multiple runs in the stocking from welt to ankle. He stared at the box then looked at me somewhat puzzled.

“What happened” he asked. “I put runs in them” I said. Not sure of what to say he paused then said “you put runs in them.” “Why did you do that?” he asked with a befuddled expression on his face. I fired back in a snippy tone “I ruined all my nylon stockings on purpose. If I can’t have them no one can have them. No woman at your work is going to wear my nylons.” Dad’s eyes grew large when I said that.

Quietly he stood by the bench then said “Michael, did you think I was going to give them to someone?” I answered “I wasn’t sure but you said you were taking them to work and I thought you might put them out and I didn’t want anyone to have them. If I can’t have them no one can have them so I put runs in them.” He shook his head and said “every single stocking?” “Yeah, they are all ruined. I destroyed all my stockings.” Dad continued staring at me then said “well that must have taken some time and effort. I need you to understand something. I was never going to give them to anyone.”

“I was going to throw them in the dumpster at work. I couldn’t throw them away here because I’d be catching you in the garbage cans until the garbage is taken away. Furthermore, it’s very silly to think your Dad, a married man, is going to give women in his office a box of nylons. That’s not appropriate.” “Well they are my nylons. I found them so they belong to me and I did not want anyone to have them so I did what I had too.” Dad shook his head then said “I got it, the nylons are yours.” I was happy to hear Dad make that admission.

Dad said “so, this is it now. No more stockings, no pantyhose. It all ends now. Agreed?” I wouldn’t answer him. He stared me in the eyes then said “Michael, agreed?” In a pouting stance I defiantly answered back “no, I don’t agree. I’m not going to stop, ever.” For a moment he stared silently at me then said “Just because I was nice to you this time about these nylons don’t make the mistake of thinking it will be that way in the future. Your actions will have consequences. He closed the box then said “well now I can just dump this in the garage and you can go now.”

I retreated to my room not sure if Dad and I had just declared war on each other. In any case, I was now completely nylon free, miserable and as determined as ever to get my hands on some of Mom’s pantyhose.

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