I was single and aged 26. I had been engaged for two years to a beautiful woman but the relationship had gone stale for each of us. We had lived together in a garden apartment for two years and she chose to move out and was staying with her parents until she could find a new place. I was sad as I missed her but felt relieved with the knowledge that the word "marriage" would not be a word that would involve a lengthy and ultimately sad discussion. She was ready for marriage and children and I was not.
Sexually we were not as compatible as I wanted. She was more of a traditionalist and the word fantasy never seemed to be in her vocabulary. She had the most perfect body on a female I ever saw. However she was like a Ferrari that had a lawnmower engine under its hood.
I have a fetish involving nylon stockings and or pantyhose. She thought my fetish was "perverted" and as a result I kept it under wraps. She had these long legs and when she would dress up for a dinner or other type of social engagement and wore pantyhose or sometimes a garter belt and stockings my hands were all over her and she would get annoyed. I never manhandled her. I am a passionate guy and would get excited when we would kiss. She was so beautiful. After a while I gave up. Sex became a duty. I felt like I was going to explode. After she left my life I would date on occasion but there was nothing serious going on. I was feeling my way around after being in an exclusive relationship.
As a young guy I had experimented with wearing nylon stockings and I also had experimented with wearing nylons while with a guy (my cousin). When my relationship ended with my girlfriend I went out and purchased at least a dozen pair of pantyhose all sheer to the waist in different colors. I also purchased two pair of pumps, one in red and one in black and two skirts. I had learned how to walk in three inch heels and how to sit and get up while wearing a skirt, heels and pantyhose. I would wear these items alone in my apartment and watch television sometimes watching a porn movie and then I would masturbate to a great orgasm. I never shared with anyone what I did in the confines of my apartment. There was a definite plus to being alone.
The apartment complex I lived in consisted of about forty buildings spread out over several acres. There was a mixture of singles and of families living there. There were laundry rooms situated at different locations.
One night after work I carried my dirty laundry to the laundry room. In a separate lingerie bag I had three pair of pantyhose that I was going to place in one of the washers on the gentle cycle and the other laundry on the second machine. I sat with a book and read. I had been alone when I started my laundry. After about a half hour another tenant arrived with a basket of laundry. He was a white male about my age. His name was Richard. He said he preferred being called Rich. He lived in a building on the other side of the apartment complex. I asked him why he did not use the laundry room closer to his apartment and he said that there were a lot of families near him and the laundry room always seemed crowded. He was single cop. We chatted for a while and then my laundry was finished, I unloaded it being careful (I thought) not to let him see the pantyhose I had washed. As I was leaving he mentioned "Doing laundry for the wife?" I said "No, I am single and live alone."
About one week later on a Saturday I went for a run on the road that made up the apartment complex and I happened to see Rich washing his car. I stopped to chat with him. He said he was having a cookout the next day and was having some of his friends over and asked me if I wanted to attend. I accepted and he said the cookout would start at 1:00 P.M. I asked him if I needed to bring anything and he said only to show up.