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My Love of Hosiery – Part 1

How my nylon fetish began…

I will never forget the first time I tried on an item of hosiery. One day I passed my parent’s bedroom and saw something draped at the foot of the bed that caught my attention. I entered their room to check it out. What I found was a girdle with the suntan nylons still attached. I had never thought anything about hosiery until that moment. I touched the ultra sheer RHT stockings. The nylon felt cool and silky in my hands and I immediately had the thought that I wanted to know what the stockings would feel like to wear them.

I planned to sneak out of bed while my parents were still up and retrieve the nylons. Once in bed I waited a while before making my attempt to retrieve the stockings. I crept into my parent’s room and snatched up the girdle and stockings. I returned to my room and slipped off my pajama bottoms and stepped into the girdle. I intuitively knew to be careful pulling the stockings up my legs. The nylons were far too long for my legs and I was swimming in the girdle but I didn’t care as I immediately fell in love with the feeling of the sheer nylon against my skin.

I got back into bed and pulled the covers up. I lay in bed reveling in the feel of the silky nylons. After a bit I realized I needed to take them off and return them to my parent’s room. That night began my love affair with hosiery.

I vowed that night that I would wear nylons again as soon as possible. Since my mother was a stay at home Mom she didn’t wear hosiery every day. She always wore on Sunday and when my parents would go out on a Friday or Saturday night. I kept a watch for when she next wore nylons. It was only days later, a Friday night when my parents had plans to go out. I peaked in my parent’s room that Saturday and saw that she had balled up on her dresser the nylons she had worn the night before. I stuffed them down the front of my pants and headed to the bathroom.

I pulled the stockings from my pants and let them unfurl in front of me. This was the first time in daylight that I really had an opportunity to examine the stockings. They were Hanes ultra sheer RHT in the shade quicksilver. (Only once I was older did I actually know the name of the shade.) I was so excited to be holding the stockings. I quickly kicked off my shoes and pulled my socks and pants off. I wanted to give the stockings a thorough inspection as I was so curious about them. I looked them over from the top of the welt where Hanes was screen printed on them, down the length of the stocking to the reinforced heal, then the foot and finally reinforced toe. I liked how the toe, heal and welt were extra silky.

After a few minutes of examining the stockings and noticing no runs or snags I carefully gathered the length of one stocking and placed my foot into it. I slid the stocking up my leg and then proceeded to do the same with the second stocking. Sitting on the toilet, I examined my legs. I was pleased with their appearance and the feel of the cool, sheer nylon enveloping them. Though the nylons were far too large I was enjoying wearing them and knew I wanted to wear them again. Actually, I knew I wanted to wear them all the time. At this time, I had no knowledge of what a run was; I just instinctively knew I had to be gentle with the stockings because they could easily be torn. I carefully ran my hands over my legs beginning at my ankles and working my way up to my thighs. After having the stockings on for approximately 15 minutes I knew it was time to remove them and return them to my mother’s dresser.

I balled the stockings up and placed them on the dresser trying to duplicate the look my mother had created when she placed them there. For some reason I suddenly had the idea to open a dresser drawer and see what other nylons Mom had. When I peeked inside I saw several stockings in different shades of tan, off-black and black, all of which were neatly folded. The drawer was so neat I didn’t dare disturb anything. I closed the drawer and promised myself that I would wear stockings again as soon as possible.

A few days later as I passed my parent’s bedroom I looked in. Just as before, a pair of nylon stockings was at the foot of the bed. I went in to examine them. This time there was no girdle, only the stockings and my mother’s skirt. I picked the stockings up from the bed to look at them. They were a shade commonly referred to in the 60s and early 70s as cinnamon. The stockings were ultra sheer with reinforced toes and nude heels. As I tried to look at them better I realized that my mother had tied them together in the center of their length and the knot was tight in that I could not quickly undo it.

I looked out an upstairs window to check to be sure she was still busy outside and then went back to the nylon stockings. I retreated to my bedroom and sat on the bed with the tied stockings. I gently tried to undo the knot but it would not budge. I came to realize I was going to need something thin to place into the knot to loosen it. The first thing I could think of was my toothbrush. I gently pushed the handle of the brush into the knot, trying to loosen it. It wasn’t working. The knot was too tight and the brush handle too thick. As I searched for something to use on the stockings I wondered why she had tied them together. I was bewildered by it.

I searched the medicine cabinet and noticed a metal nail file. I darted back to my room and pushed the file into the knot and wiggled it back and forth. The knot began to slowly loosen. After a little prodding it loosened to where I could work my fingers in to better loosen it. I made another dash to the window to check on my mother. She was busy and it would be a while before she came inside. I returned to the stockings and finally untied them. I looked each stocking over to see if the file had damaged them. I was relieved to discover that it hadn’t.

I slipped my pants off and began pulling the first stocking on and then the second. Once I had both of them on I lie back on my bed, put my legs in the air and kicked them about as I relished their appearance in the cinnamon stockings. It was at this point that I noticed strange markings on the soles of both feet. I brought my left foot down to my face and took note of a run. I didn’t recall ever seeing one before or know what it was called. I just knew it meant the stocking was damaged. I brought my right foot to my face and again, there was a run. Neither run was a disaster. The runs were thin, only the width of a pencil and went from the back of the heel across the bottom of the foot stopping at the reinforced toe.

“Okay”, I thought, “she is going to throw them out.” I checked the clock and allowed myself another 10 minutes to wear the stockings. When time was up I slipped off the stockings and put my pants on. I went to my parent’s bedroom and lined up the stockings one on the other and then tied them in a knot in the center as Mom had; only I didn’t pull it as tight as she had done. I d****d the stockings on the bed as she had and tip toed out of the room.

I told myself I had to have those nylons, that they would be mine. Trash pickup wasn’t for another two days so I knew I had to keep an eye out for them. That night, before going to bed I looked in to see if the stockings were still on her bed. They were still there. Late morning the next day I looked in. The bed was made and the stockings were not there. I looked around and saw that they had been placed on her dresser. All day I would take a good look at any trash can in the house to see if I could spy the stockings.

The stockings remained on her dresser until the afternoon before trash day. We always put the trash out the night before because they come so early in the morning. My father was the one who put the trash out when we were very young. He had thrown the kitchen trash into the big can in the garage and was beginning to go through the house to empty the wastebaskets. There was one in each bathroom and one in my parent’s room. As he finished the bathrooms and began to empty the wastebasket in his room, Mom shouted for him to throw away her nylons on her dresser. Being in my room I was able to see Dad pick them up from the dresser. He held them for a moment then answered back quizzically “You want me to throw out these nylons on your dresser? Didn’t you just wear them?” Mom replied “yes, throw them out, they have runs in them.” Dad said “okay” and then sighed as he muttered under his breath “you run them the first day you wear them.” As I listened I took note that the damage I had seen in Mom’s nylons was called a run. I intuitively knew to be attuned to hearing either of my parent’s mention runs in my mother’s stockings as it meant stockings with runs would be thrown out and I would have opportunities to obtain them.

I watched from an upstairs window as Dad took the trash to the cans. He had emptied the wastebaskets into a single white trash bag. As far as I knew the last thing to go into the trash bag was the stockings so they should be on top and easy for me to obtain. Late that night my father put the cans out by the curb.

I waited for everyone to go to sleep before I slipped out of my bed. I went down to the kitchen, not turning on any lights. I stood in the dark kitchen, not making a sound for about 10 minutes. I wanted to be sure no one had awakened. I went to the living room and slowly opened the sliding glass door. I knew it was the quietest way to exit the house. Once outside, I looked around to see if lights were on next door. Everyone was asleep. I made a quick dash for the garage. I went to the trashcans and carefully opened one. Fortunately, they were plastic and didn’t make much if any noise. I lucked out; a white trash bag was on top in this can. I quickly tore it open and reached in. The stockings were right on top. I grabbed them in a hurry and shoved them down my briefs. I quickly put the lid back on the can and darted back to the house. I closed the slider and went back to the kitchen.

I figured if I were caught downstairs I had better not have the stockings on me so I balled them up and dropped them behind books in the bookcase. I went to the refrigerator, took a bottle of soda out and opened it. I poured some in a glass, drank it then put the bottle back in the refrigerator while leaving the glass on the counter. I did all of this so if I was caught out of bed I could say I was up getting a drink.

The next day, when no one was in the house I quickly retrieved the stockings. I hid them in my room and wore them nearly daily for quite some time. It was at this point that the run each in each stocking had grown. The length of the run wasn’t the problem, it was the width. The entire sole of each foot was now wiped out by the run and my little feet came out the feet of the stockings. I was disappointed to have to give up the nylons but I knew it would be only a matter of time before I was wearing stockings and with luck have a pair of my own again.

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