30/12/2024 19:03:45 by Levi V
My arousal toward men’s socks started when I was a boy. It seemed like a very natural attraction that I couldn’t understand or explain.
When I was around 10, my older sister had a boyfriend who was about 8 years older than me. He was a naturally musky guy and would produce a deep manly scent with little effort, especially his feet. He spent a lot of time at our house and in time would go on to get my sister pregnant. It became more common that his dirty socks would find their way to the laundry room in a hamper or in my sister’s bedroom. At this time, I was going through puberty and was a very horny boy—even more so than most boys that age, I think. Perhaps it was because I idolized the guy, but whenever I would find his clothes, especially socks, I would take advantage of the opportunity to touch them and smell them, which I found intoxicating and very pleasureful. Inhaling his musky socks would give me an instant, uncontrollable, raging erection and it was not long before I would nab a pair from the floor of my sisters room and sneak them to my own room once the rest of the family was out. I enjoyed those socks immensely and would get naked, rub them on my face, chest, belly and crotch. I’d put them on my own feet even though they were much larger than my boy feet at the time. Once my arousal got so high and I was only thinking with my penis, I ejaculated all over those socks—and I was (and still am) a heavy producer. The socks were soaked with my load and the feeling of guilt swept over me. I felt like such a disgusting pervert and was so ashamed of myself for letting my arousal take over and masturbate to someone I knew and looked up to. I panicked and ended up keeping those socks—not sure why I didn’t just wash them and return them to where I found them, but I was beside myself with guilt and fear of him finding out what I had done. I swore to never act on my impulses like that again. I’m sure it comes as no surprise, but I broke that promises within days of making it. The next time I was horny I went for those socks again—and now not only were they dirty and worn, they were stiff with my dried semen which added a new element to the experience—a sort of unexplainable sweet musk. It was probably only a day later that I was masturbating to them again and adding yet another load to them and ultimately repeating this pleasure/guilt pattern.
I think my young mind fixated on this experience over and over because I was hooked. I started looking at other men’s socked feet at family get togethers, at school in gym class, at the shoe store, anywhere that people would take their shoes off gave me the same rush that a dirty magazine would have to other boys my age. It was a blessing and a curse that my fetish was so accessible and I had to be careful not to pay too much attention to men’s socked feet or I knew I’d become erect very quickly and that would be humiliating to my fragile adolescent ego. But you can bet that I was taking a mental picture to think about as soon as I got home to masturbate to. By this time I was exclusively using socks to masturbate in/on. I’d pull one of my socks off and ejaculate in it before bed and then drop it between the wall and the bed. It’s funny how young men don’t think about their actions when they are horny because while I was at school one day, my mom found about 50 crusty cum socks shoved between the wall and the bed. Not my finest hour and she probably then understood why I would wake up every morning with only one sock on.
By the time I was 16-18, I was very aware that my fetish had progressed and due to some extensive late night searching on the family computer, I had discovered that having a sock fetish was real and other men also had it. I’d scour the web for pictures of men in socks and spend all night edging my penis—sometimes until 4-5am on a school night. I couldn’t get enough.
To say I would anticipate times when my family would be out of the house was an understatement. I’d get those horny butterflies in the pit of my belly if I knew I was coming home from school to an empty house and the second I’d get home I’d strip naked, go to my dads hamper, pull out a pair of his worn black dress socks and put them on. I’d masturbate wearing only his dress socks for as long as I could—sometimes ejaculating 6-7 times in one day or until my penis and balls became too sore.
Throughout my life my sexual interests have been a fluid journey but as a 37 year old man—the one thing that has been a constant is my immense arousal for socks. I fully embrace it and still to this day spill my seed in and on worn socks in my own or my partners hamper.
