I was a nineteen year old guy fresh out of high school and facing a possible ten year prison sentence due to my involvement in a mugging last July. It was now October and the court system seemed to be taking its time to go through the arraignment and pre-trial process. If I were to say the thought of prison didn't scare me I would be lying. In fact I was so scared and so ashamed of my actions that I had serious thoughts about suicide. In many ways a part of me, a huge part, thought suicide would be the right choice. I hated what I did even though no one was hurt, but I guess the guilt compounded by a conscious awareness that I actually deserved prison was too much to handle. On top of that guilt there was a part of me that felt empty, a part that felt neglected and as if my mind and my bodies reactions to odd stimuli were somehow warped.
When I was just a small child as young as the first or second grade I could remember looking at my teachers pantyhose covered legs and feet with an amazement that I couldn't possibly understand at the time. I remember my female classmates at the time and how I loved to look at their legs and feet while they were covered in white tights. Again I had no understanding of why I enjoyed the shape or smooth look of them. As I grew up and moved from grade to grade in school so did the girls I would look at.
I remember vividly when I was thirteen and the first time I had a sex dream; this also happened to be the first time I had a wet dream. It was a Sunday night and I could not get the memory of Jaime's pantyhose covered feet out of my mind. Earlier that day I was at church and Jaime, a girl just a year younger than me was dressed in her Sunday best. She was wearing white semi-opaque tights with some sort of cheesy looking heeled shoes that didn't fit her very well. While we were in our Sunday school class she had taken her shoes off to make her feet more comfortable. I remember her calmly and discretely rubbing her feet together and the slight sound they made as the individual threads that made up the pantyhose that were covering her feet made. Later that night while I was sleeping I remember dreaming about that sound, the curves of her feet and the way they rubbed up against each other. In my dream her feet was in my lap and my hands were rubbing them. I awoke from that dream with my body spasming and a sensation running through my body like none other I had ever felt or heard of before. In all honesty I really had very little understanding of what had happened to me.
As the next few months passed I grew to actually look forward to my night-time dreams and the great feeling I received from them, and within 6 months I understood how to cause that feeling to happen anytime I chose. School was a breading ground for mental snapshots and mentally stored video that I would use to stimulate my mind after I arrived home from school and a few times while I was still in class. I remember saving money I got from Christmas and my birthday so that I could buy an instant Polaroid camera. This was a few years before affordable digital cameras became available. I used that Polaroid camera to take pictures of girls in class and the girls from the dance squad that always wore glossy tan pantyhose under the little short skirts of their dance uniforms. Taking pictures of the pantyhose feet of the girls in my class was fairly easy, none of them seemed the slightest bit concerned or creeped out by it as long as I complimented them on their outfit and shoes and made sure I took a picture of their full body and face as well. There were times when I even joked around and told the girl that I had a foot fetish and I wanted a picture of them to go with the rest of my collection and very few of them thought for a second I was being serious.
By my junior year in high school it all began to catch up with me with roomers that seemed to propagate themselves around the social ranks of the student body as if the roomers themselves had a mind of their own. I had to retire my camera so that I could hopefully stifle the roomers and feel a little less of an anomaly and a societal outcast. One girl by the name of Amy was a friend of a friend. She wasn't really my type or a girl that I had much interest in, but I still made moves on her hoping that she would be my gateway out of suburban virginism. One night her and I was out on a date and she wanted to know more about me. She promised if I told her a secret about me, she would then tell me a secret about her. I was looking for understanding of my foot fetishism that I really had little to zero understanding of if I was alone in this attraction. I told her about it, not in so much detail at first and she didn't laugh. I told her more about it and gave her details about my photo collection; again she didn't seem creeped out. The next day at school Amy asked me to not talk to her anymore and for me to leave her alone. At first I was confused as to why she was acting this way and then I heard from another student that Amy had told her friend about what I told her about my foot fetish and the entire ordeal spread like wildfire and caused me to be ostracized from the social ranks of my piers as if I was a carrier of the Ebola virus and my words or stare alone would cause their flesh to melt off their bones.
A little over a year later I graduated high school and I was still a virgin. I couldn't fathom that I was going to face adulthood as someone that has never felt the warmth of a woman and had little understanding that I wasn't alone in my fetishes.
July 1993 my friend and I made plans to mug the person making the bank drop of the local grocery store where I used to work part-time. I parked near by out of site as my friend waited for the manager to exit the store with the bank deposit in her purse. He grabbed her purse and ran the 200 yards to the car where I was waiting and then we drove away. A few days later we were arrested. Hey, I never claimed to be a mastermind.
