The Birth of a Fetish

Don't worry, this isn't going to be one of those cheesy stories about how I fucked my step-sister. That never happened. Maria and I were more like blood siblings, so we never, ever wanted to have sex with each other. It was impossible to ignore one simple fact, though; Maria had a great pair of legs. And it was because of those long, athletic limbs that I began my nylon obsession.  It was the summer of 1982. I had just turned sixteen, and Maria was a few weeks away from her 18th birthday. I was a typical horny teenager, and spent a good part of most days masturbating over soft porn mags, usually locked in the bathroom.That particular day, Maria had an interview for a holiday job somewhere in the local town. It was early morning and I awoke to the sound of Maria shouting down the stairs to my step-mum. She sounded pissed off about something, not that it bothered me. I was in holiday mode, looking forward to another long, lazy day with nothing to do.. I realised I needed to pee, so I made my way to the bathroom. There, as I emptied my bladder, my eyes flittered around the room and I caught sight of a small wicker basket with a plastic liner inside it. On top I spied a small bundle of black fabric and some crumpled plastic packaging. The subject of Maria's earlier consternation, I wagered. A discarded pair of pantyhose - or, as we British call them: "tights". Pee finished, I flushed the loo and rinsed my hands. Then, for whatever reason I will never know, as I made my way out of the bathroom, I bent down and retrieved the black tights and their packet from the bin. Back in my bed, I rested against the headboard and unfurled the bundle of nylon in my hands. It soon became apparent why Maria had abandoned them. There, along the back of one leg, was a calf-length ladder where the fabric had ribbed, twisted and torn open. I ran my hands along the fabric, feeling the soft, cool nylon between my fingers. It felt sensual, unusual, unexpected - and my penis began to stir again. Instinctively, I pulled down my pyjamas and allowed my erection to spring free. It was too thrilling an idea, so I held my right hand within the tights a began to softly caress my penis with the fabric, at the same time guiding the rest of the soft, black bundle towards my balls, where it unfurled around the pubic hair, tingling my inner thighs.  It was all a blissful, heady experience, and within minutes I felt an orgasm building. I knew I had to prolong the experience, though, so mustering all my self-control, I pulled my hands away from my genitals and set the tights to one side. I was desperate to take control of my arousal, so picked up the plastic packaging the fresh new pantyhose had come in. Inside the bag, a card insert depicted a long-legged beauty, dressed in the same sheer black tights. She was standing on tippy-toes, her elegant calves extended, taut and shapely, the sheen of the nylon accentuating her firm thighs with just the slightest hint of her left buttock visible in profile. There was no top half of the model; just her legs, her slim waist and bum. I thought about Maria. She had a similar figure. Tall, slim and strong, but always elegant. Then I stared down at my own legs, slightly open now, stretched out on the bed, my cock still erect and swollen, the head purple, its one eye staring directly into my consciousness. I wondered what my legs would look like, swathed in the sensual material. The impulse was too strong. I sat on the edge of the bed and slowly rolled on the tights. Even at sixteen I was six foot, and my legs were long and slender, almost hairless and quite feminine in shape. The nylon felt cool against my flesh, the waistband gratifyingly tight around my belly. A slightly thicker bead of fabric created a ridge which ran through the centre of the crotch and pressed lightly against my erection. I pulled the waistband slightly, which pressed this ridge into my penis, creating a hot little friction against the shiny tight skin. Soon, I built this pulling motion into a rhythm and my cock started to pulse, swelling even more as it filled with cum, ready to be released. It was too soon, though, and once again I mustered a modicum of self control, letting go of the waistband and pulling my hand away from the nylon. I waited a few moments and disciplined my hands to stay away from my genitals. The near-climax subsided, but my penis was still hard, my arousal still full. Gazing down at my midriff, and my erection swaddled in the sheer black nylon, I realised I wanted to see myself in the forbidden garment. I climbed out of bed and stood in front of the full length mirror. The image reflected was unusual, but not disappointing. I was a girl, but not. A boy, but not. I liked the image. The curves of my long legs were accentuated by the dark fabric, and my swollen cock made a pleasing bulge in the gusset. I realised I needed to emancipate my penis, so I began to rip at the fabric, pulling at the gusset until a small tear appeared, which lengthened and allowed my cock to spring out. It looked glorious, fat and engorged, and bigger than I had ever seen it. I couldn't resist any longer, so began to masturbate fully, rhythmically stroking my erection, whilst quietly squeezing my buttocks together and moving my hips in a fucking motion. I fucked the palm of my hand harder, firmer and faster now, my body turned fully towards the mirror, face on. I took a step closer, barely half a meter away from the glass, focussed on the reflection of my hand beating around my shaft, my cock throbbing purple against the black nylon background, until suddenly, but not unexpectedly, I came, shooting a torrent of sticky white semen at the bedroom mirror.  My body shook, and I staggered backwards as the orgasm rippled through me. I stared into the mirror, and watched as my spunk dribbled down the glass in sticky rivulets, obscuring my image, and returned to sit on the edge of the bed. A post-ejaculation feeling of drowsiness overcame me and I flopped back onto the mattress, my limbs pleasantly heavy as I rolled onto my back, my penis flaccid and hanging to one side, a last globule of cum dribbling onto the torn nylon around my upper thigh. As I drifted off into a blissful, post-orgasm sleep, I thought about Maria. What would she think if she ever found out that I had masturbated into her torn pantyhose? The thought of it turned me on, and would continue to turn me on from time to time for many years, until one fateful day, when eventually she did find out. What happened after that is another story. Maybe I'll tell you about it one day.