I had been meaning to write a few stories after initially joining this forum some months back. Nyllover had been very encouraging and i found the entire idea of this site as a fish feels in water.
I plan to share my stories as time permits and hope that they will meet with your approval.
I honestly can't remember the exact age that I started getting interested in female legs and feet but they were my first love and remain a deeply rooted passion that I till this date cannot explain.
I distinctly remember a cousin who was alot older than me. She would come in from school and the most memorable thing about her visit was her white socks - obviously a little dirty but that seemed to make it a little more exciting.
Even at that age when I didn't and couldn't have an erection - I remember very vividly the exact nature of my feelings. The rush of blood to my head , my young pounding heart
and the sense of quiet urgency.I knew I wanted nothing more than to be close to those legs and of course her legs in those white socks drove me to distraction.
Apparently trying to get as close to the encased foot seemed to heighten the feeling as I had to be discreet and yet work with a sense of urgency due to time...
She would take of her school sandals and end up talking with an aunt of ours who lived with us. I would be ensconced on the floor feigning sleep but gently inching close to those sock covered feet of hers.
their proximity teased me to no end and the gleam of those white ankle socks just drew me in like a magnet.
I particularly loved to have those delectably sock covered toes buried under my stomach wiggling around gently.
If I could purr like a cat - I'm sure I would have...
It took the better part of an twenty minutes or so because i could not afford to be caught - it seemed that every time I got close enough, she moved her foot.
The summary of the tale was the final and sublime joy that seems to explode within my head and heart almost as if you can't contain that sort of bliss... what was a young boy to do?
This was what i felt when I finally made contact with those feet - I could see the white socks up close and the way they held onto her ankles.
I could smell the gentle odor of feet that had built some dirt and grime and I loved it.
I tried to align my stomach as close as I could and even that was an eternal lesson in torture. To be so close to the object of your desire and yet to be unable to hurriedly consummate this passion...
The cold contrast of the floor as i inched slowly towards the goal of those feet that seemed to tease me to no end.
I finally managed to get my stomach close enough to her toes and when the first contact was made it was utterly indescribable...
I am sure most of you know the feeling I am referring to. I lay there quietly, savoring the feeling of having acquired my prize.
It was truly a moment to cherish and that memory is forever em-blazed in my head.
It has been more than twenty years and yet that memory has never faded.
She didn't stay long after that but it didn't diminish the feeling or the craving for her feet.
