Our fetish

My name is Ira. I'm 25 years old, not married—yet. My story began two years ago. I was out of work, and a friend suggested I place an ad in the newspaper offering knitting services. I've always enjoyed knitting, and many people had asked me to knit things for them. Plus, I love wearing knitted items myself. But no one responded to the ad for a long time, about three weeks. Finally, some man called, introduced himself as Andrey, and asked me to knit him a sweater.

In the evening, he came to my place and brought yarn with him. It was pure mohair from South Africa. We got acquainted, and he asked me to knit the sweater with two strands so it would be thick

and fluffy, with a high collar. I knit quickly, and in a couple of weeks, Andrey came to pick up the order. When he put it on, he looked like a soft, fluffy teddy bear. I wanted so badly to pet him that I couldn't resist and started stroking him, pretending to check the fit. He paid well, and I invited him for tea. During our conversation, he said he was unmarried, 30 years old, and couldn't find a girl who shared his outlook on life. He kept glancing at my legs. It was autumn, the heating wasn't on yet, and I was wearing woolen knee-highs over thick tights around the house. "I want socks like that too!" he said. "May I?" And leaning over, he took my foot and placed it on his lap, as I was sitting across from him. As if examining the sock, Andrey began stroking my foot. For some reason, it felt very pleasant—maybe because it had been a while since I'd been with a man, or maybe because I liked him.

I began to feel a slight arousal, as did he. Andrey shifted forward a bit, and my foot pressed against his crotch. I could feel his erection. The pause lingered a bit, and I withdrew my foot from his hands. Andrey immediately started getting ready to leave, and I sat down to knit him the knee-highs, thinking about him and who else he had ordered a pair for. Clearly for a woman, as the footprint was size 36, just like mine. I felt jealous, and after knitting them first, I wore them around the house. Looking at the knee-highs, I envied that he would be stroking someone else's legs in them. When I called to say the order was ready, Andrey was very pleased but said he couldn't come today because he was expecting an important call. He asked me to bring them to him, as he wanted to order something else. I didn't want to lose a client, so I went to his apartment. I dressed a bit provocatively, wanting to show his girlfriend that I was no slouch either. For the occasion, I even wore stockings over my tights. Andrey opened the door, smiling, and immediately invited me into the living room. He was wearing the sweater I knitted, sweatpants, and thick woolen socks over them. "Sorry! No slippers!" he said as I took off my shoes. "You know what? Put on the knee-highs you knitted instead of slippers." I happily took them out of the bag and pulled them onto my feet, handing him the other pair. "Come into the room! I'll be an hour," and he dashed off to the bathroom.

There was no girlfriend at his place! I noticed immediately upon entering the room. It was tidy, but clearly no woman's touch. Andrey reappeared wearing the knee-highs I brought. "Let's have tea! Now it's my treat! Or maybe a little wine?" Taking out a bottle of Spanish white wine, we somehow finished it all unnoticed, talking about nothing! A second bottle followed, and I didn't notice—or maybe didn't want to notice—that my feet, both of them now, were back on his lap, and he was stroking them over the knee-highs, sometimes running his hands over the stockings. My skirt had ridden up long ago, exposing them completely. But I didn't care; I was in a light state of euphoria, only wanting him not to stop stroking. My panties were already soaked with arousal. Now I moved closer to him and began caressing his erection through the sweatpants with my fingertips over the knee-highs. Unable to bear this torture, Andrey stood up and, meeting no resistance, started kissing me on the lips. "I want you," he whispered, and I just nodded in response.

I leaned on the table with my hands, and he pulled down my tights and panties, took off his sweatpants, and entered my wet and moist cave. Though he was aroused, he moved unhurriedly, and I managed to climax twice. When he was about to finish, at the last moment, he pulled out, and as it turned out, my skirt and blouse were covered in semen. I turned around, and my gaze fell on a spicy detail: Andrey was wearing woolen women's tights. He hadn't had time to put his sweatpants back on. "Well, there you go!" he said, noticing my slightly puzzled look. "Now you know my secret quirk! I adore wearing knitted things! Sorry if it's weird!" Honestly, at that moment, I wasn't bothered by it. My head was still spinning; I'd never experienced such an orgasm! Afterward, Andrey carefully undressed me and carried me to the bathroom, where he gently and tenderly washed me.

Lying in bed, I thought how wonderful it was to have met such a gentle and caring guy! I had nothing against his fetish—after all, everyone has their own quirks! Oh, if only I knew where it would lead us!