My son-in-law Aaron is such a sweetheart--very polite, and a good-mannered boy. But over the past few years, I've unfortunately learned about his "dirty" side. I began noticing that every time I would be wearing pantyhose--whether at church, or coming home from work--I would catch him looking at my legs and feet. I felt violated. Truthfully, I have no problem these days when I see a young, good-looking guy checking me out--its is rare, afterall. But who the hell is he to be ogling his mother-in-law? Sure, I am an attractive woman--but he is married to my daughter! And I noticed that when I happened to be wearing pantyhose, he'd be extra nice to me and offer to do chores for me--"can I take out the trash for you, Miss Kate?" Things like that. It creeped me out a little, and I usually declined politely.

Over time, he seemed to stop his bad habit. I figured, well he just likes pantyhose--so I suppose I got over it. But for a while there I made it a point NOT to wear pantyhose to church or a family function if I knew Aaron would be there. Although I enjoy wearing pantyhose, I didn't want to encourage him at all.

Just when things seemed quite normal again, I noticed Aaron wasn't coming by the house anymore. I knew he was busy with work, but I wondered: could he have found out that I was putting him off? Was I being too antisocial with him? I mean, he is a very nice boy and I like him as a person. And he is SO good to my daughter...

I started to miss him.

A lot actually.

Sometimes he would come over late at night to hang out with family and friends downstairs, and I would hear his voice. It sounded so sweet, so strong. One night I heard him laughing downstairs as I was undressing in the bathroom to take my bath. I was allmost completely naked, with my fingers around the waistband, ready to slide out of my nude Leggs pantyhose. But I changed my mind. I let the elastic waistband slap back onto my hips, pulled them up to hug my crotch tightly, and turned the water off. I slipped my nylon-clad legs into the bubbly strawberry-scented water, and got into the tub. I leaned back in the tub and started rubbing by wet pantyhose over my clit softly. My heart was racing; I felt like 20 again! I tried to keep quiet, but it was hard to stifle my soft moaning. I took a deep breath: here it comes! I gasped, putting one hand tight over my mouth as I felt that familiar warmth stirring and flowing inside me.

I tried to catch my breath, being as silent as possible. No, no--they couldn't have heard me, I was quiet enough. 'My God, Kate!" I whispered aloud, between my shortened breaths. I didn't have the nerve to get out of the tub until the voices downstairs had subsided.

When I got out of the tub, I hung my pantyhose up to dry on the showerhead. Hopefully, my husband Frank wouldn't ask about it...

This is an amazing, TRUE journal of mine--and it is ongoing. Please read on! I'd love to hear from all you pantyhose fetishists out there.