i like jerking off to stinky socks

I am a massive stinky sock fetishist. My earliest sock experience happened when I was in high school, I was best friends with a tall, tan soccer jock, who loved wearing skate sneakers and Nike Jordan’s. He was a heart throb, 6 feet tall, always wore the most handsome cologne, blonde and blue eyes, the sweetest guy. It was our senior year, and I had been friends with him for a long while by the point the unthinkable happened, and I had craved to smell his feet for well over a year. I often dreamt of what it would feel like to peel off his soccer cleats, absolutely steaming with ripe, rank foot odor, his socks, dark and moist with stinking ripe foot sweat. My heart would pound whenever I thought about his socked feet, and the way I wanted to deeply sniff his feet. I fantasized often that his socks would feel like hot, pungent vinegar, as if a bowl of red wine vinegar had been left in the sun for a month covered up. I imagined the way his moist toes would feel as they grazed across my face. Anyway, it was our senior year, and in my fantasy, I would pretend to write out text messages, explaining my desire to smell his dirty socks, never imagining I would send it to him! As I walked along the sidewalk typing the message out, I tripped on a piece of cement and my thumb slammed into the send button on my screen. “Can I smell your feet?” Was all I saw flash across my screen. There was no unsend button at the time, and my heart raced in my chest. I couldn’t believe the mistake I had just made. A few minutes went by, and my phone vibrated. “Why would you want too? They stink.” I melted. How my fetish had been partially satisfied just by him telling me that his feet smell. It was the most intense thing I could hear at the time! My best friend’s feet stink! This was my chance. I responded “I’ve always been curious about it, and you’re my best friend, so I figured I could ask you without judgment.” A moment later, he told me to come over and smell his feet! My heart was pounding in my chest. I ran to my car and flew to his house, completely in awe of what was about to happen. My first serious sock fetish experience, with a straight man’s smelly socks, up close and personal in my face. I got to his place and walked in the side door. He led me to his living room and we sat on the couch together, it was quite awkward at first. He asked me how I wanted to do this, and I said put your feet on my lap, let me see something. I pulled off his soccer cleat, and began to slowly bring my nose down to his massive size 12 socks. They were beautiful. White, with toe stains, soles white, with some gray musk, and deep, dark heels stains. I brought my nose to the tops of his socked toes and took in a deep sniff. What I was assaulted with, was beyond my wildest dreams. His socks reeked of acrid, acidic vinegar, straight up arm pit body odor, and rotting onions. The smell underneath his toenails beneath his smelly socks was unbelievable. The vinegar that wafted from his toes, it was incredible. I winced in shock, and he pulled his foot away. I quickly snatched it back, his thick, heavy legs trembling in my lap. “I like the way your feet stink.” No other words were exchanged that evening. I sniffed his socks for nearly three hours, and by the time I left his house, my face absolutely reeked of his body odor vinegar socked toes. He had snagged my nose and gripped it tightly during my sniffing session, and the pungent stink of his socks entrapped itself and engrained itself so deep within my nostrils, I was able to enjoy the stench of his warm, thick toes for several hours after. So much so that I was able to blast a serious orgasm to the smell of my best friends dirty socks. His cleats were so moist, I slipped my hands in them so that my fingers would stink of his feet after I left. I sniffed his socked feet so deeply, my eyes were fixated on his socks for the duration of the session, and they watered to the extreme stink of his straight bro feet. I glided my nose from his warm, corn chippy heels, up to his pungent vinegar toes, grazing the fabric of his rancid white Nike socks just enough that I was able to be fully nasal assaulted with intense foot odor. The sweat dragging along my nose and face was warm, and sticky. It smelt of thick, buttered popcorn and intense vinegar, and as it trailed along my face, I sniffed deeper in between his thick, ripened toes. The smell wafting from in between his toes was thick and intense, a mucky cheese that had aged a while. It was an incredible and delectable experience. I am obsessed with rancid, rank socks, the longer and more intense the wear, the better I indulge in the awful stink. Nothing turns me on more than putrid foot odor, especially a thick vinegar mixed with some musty cum and ball sweat.

I wanted to write anything else than this. My smartphone has automatic correction. My holy grial are socks gifted by my boyfriend's mother. His used socks. He wears socks on his cummed sneakers AND I took his socks as a thank you gift. I would hate mine being stolen so I give everyone sneak peeks once a wear them more than a day, so he knows I hace some candid memories about his footwears. The last chance I took liking socks was playing with my exes best friendo, he has a very sore face after I turn his face into a footrug. I just kissed his. He took my cummed rags and kissed them. His face was really sore after he caressed my shorts ankle socks into his lips.

Love sharing cum stained gym socks. Passing them back and forth getting them sweaty and cum stained so they smell the way I like them. Better than poppers to huff while I'm bating.

Basically had this fetish from as long as i can remember, i remember in middle school i would already ask to buy guys' sneakers they had worn amd wear them myself and i sniffed some socks sometimes at ages 15+ after we did gym lessons in class

My story about just liking socks is when I was dating a guy who would wear white Dri-Fit Nike socks and he would let me play with them & do everything with them. It was so hot and he had really nice feet. Never took the socks off.

Always loved playing games that involved mates taking of their shoes…would always end in sock sniffing and often socked feet pressing or rubbing each other. At school I found a number of other boys that shared in an interest in smelling socks under the desk or during a game on the oval. This grew into a silent but healthy engagement with a number of mates up until my late teens when I thought I shouldn’t behave this way anymore and be interested in girls. Obviously that was a faze as I couldn’t keep my mind or eyes of male socks. This interest played out in many ways over the years…and also with mates that surprised me with their similar interest..only to loose their friendship after very intense experiences. It’s something that’s always there regardless of how hard I’ve tried to surpress it…now I just enjoy🧦

I’ve always been drawn to the look of socks when they’re sweaty—when they stick to the feet, clinging like a second skin. There’s nothing hotter than when a guy curls his toes and the sock wrinkles at the bottom, stretched over his sticky, stinky soles. White socks show it best—the dampness, the texture, the perfect mix of clean and dirty. And while the visual’s amazing, nothing beats hearing a man casually talk about stinky socks or feet. Words like “stinky” or “sweaty” hit different, especially when he’s descriptive. It’s even better if it’s not in a fetish context—just teasing, joking, or complaining about the smell.

In high school, I played football and ran track, and back then, it was all innocent fun. Guys would joke about stinky socks sometimes, especially on the bus ride home or after practice. I’d discovered my fetish by the time I was 14, and I secretly started wearing a thin pair of ankle socks under my regular socks—either school socks or game socks. I’d wear that same pair of thin socks for days until they reeked of that perfect, corn-chippy stink. When they hit just the right level, I’d savor them during private moments—one in my mouth, the other over my nose—and the jerk-off sessions were unreal.

At that age, whether it was because of teenage hormones or those stinky ankle socks I wore underneath my regular ones, I got a bit of a reputation for my stinky feet. A couple of teammates on the football team teased me, saying my feet smelled like Fritos (they weren’t wrong), and even a few girls on the track team joked about it. There was one fellow d-lineman who teased me relentlessly about it. He said my feet were “rank” every time we sat near each other in the locker room. Looking back, I wonder if he had his own stink kink—but at the time, I was way too shy and naïve to even think about testing that theory.

That kind of teasing never really stopped. Just a few weeks ago, I was with some friends watching football, and one guy started heckling another about his stinky socks. It wasn’t mean-spirited—just playful banter—but it caught my attention instantly. I couldn’t smell them from across the room, and honestly, I’m not attracted to those friends, so it wasn’t erotic. But hearing the teasing? The way he dragged out the word “stinky”? That definitely got to me.

As I got older, I realized how much this kink shaped the way I noticed people. In my 20s, I’d sometimes spot a guy’s socks left on a bench in the locker room, usually stuffed into sneakers. If I thought he was cute—and if there was no one around—I’d sneak a whiff. That musky, sweaty scent was irresistible, especially when it came with a warm, stale smell that lingered on my skin after I’d touched the fabric. I never stole a sock, but I’d take a moment to commit the smell to memory, rub the toe of the sock against my face, and carry that memory home with me to fuel a session.

When I started hooking up online, that side of me opened up even more. It felt amazing to connect with guys who shared the same interests, especially ones who didn’t mind me getting up close and personal with their sweaty, stinky socks or feet. There’s nothing better than knowing a guy’s been in the same pair of socks all day, or for days, and seeing how much they’ve molded to him—especially if they’ve gone from slightly damp to completely soaked.

I’ll admit, the thrill of risk still gets me. The idea of catching a guy’s attention with my own stinky socks, or just the teasing comments about my feet, always stuck with me. Better yet if I’m around the guy who’s feet loudly emanate that innocent, pungent, stinky-sock scent. Even now, if you’re a cute cub with nice looking sweaty feet in a pair of hot worn sneakers and well-worn socks? I’ll probably be sneaking glances at you and those socks, wondering what you *and* your socks taste like.

My first attraction was to my older brother’s socks. I have stolen friends’ socks. I wish my feet smelled more, but as I age, my feet don’t sweat so much 🫤