Confession time. I have a fetish. I’m actually excited about this because I have sort of felt bad about the fact that most of my kinks seem to be mental, emotional or, I say, intellectual. This is something material. Something physical. Something that is just hot. There is a simplicity in that which I find refreshing.

I am talking, of course, about thigh high socks. “Over the Knee” socks, if you will.

I’ve mentioned them before, I’m sure. I was introduced to the American Apparel Thigh High Socks a while back and ever since I have been sort of obsessed with them. Specifically the white ones with the three stripes. There is something innocent about them, so playful, so sexy. There is also something about the legs being so cover that it makes the thighs look so much more naked.

I really can’t put the attraction into words because it goes beyond just what I’ve written. When a girl is wearing thigh high socks and nothing else a little switch goes off in my head. My cock is harder. I want to really ravage her in a very aggressive way.

Partners note the difference right away. These socks make me instantly frisky. My hands roam between any legs encased in them instinctual.

Recently I was talking to someone about pubic hair and my (along with a lot of other people’s) love of its absence. I’ve sort of gone back on that one lately. I think I like a little hair, it is amusing. The wonderful thing is when there is hair for a while and then it gets shaved (or even better waxed) off. It is the juxtaposition of tactile sensations. It’s the same thing with the socks.

When those socks come off they leave little marks that make me bite my lip. The feel of those little impressions, tracing them with my fingers or my tongue. Once covered legs suddenly naked. Perfect.

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