Sock Fickle
There’s no doubt about it! Like most ‘sockieboy slaves’, I am a bit of a ‘sock fickle’ – telling everyone I meet, all of my customers, that their socks are the best socks! Which they are, in the sense that they are each and every one of them is my better, and therefore their socks are my betters!
However, if there is one pair of socks I am truly enraptured by, it must surely be the dark grey socks of regular, late-night customer mistress, Ms Mukta madam! She of the ubiquitous dirty red, white and blue sneakers, and occasional dark grey socks! My sockieboy heart skips a beat every time I see her drawing near, and if I catch a glimpse of grey sock, it nearly stops beating altogether! For Ms Mukta’s grey socks truly are the best – being her plain grey socks, on her feet, in front of my sock-fickle face!
I can’t explain it, other than to say I am probably in love with her socks! Whilst other people’s socks are my life, Ms Mukta’s plain grey socks are to die for! And they aren’t even all that plain – with several rows of discernibly different textures in the stitching, including the reinforced, elasticated stitching at the tops! Ms Mukta, bless her cotton socks, always seems to hitch up the jean leg of whichever foot is in front of me for respect-kissing, so that I can observe the very tops of her socks. I think she knows I am besotted by her socks – and she finds it amusing, since we both know there is nothing I can do about it!
These are, after all, the socks of a happily married woman! And besides, no pair of female socks worth their salty sweat would ever dream of going out with a loser-slave like me! Her socks are too good for me – and they know it!
Socks…Socks…Socks…Socks… Socks!... Ms Mukta’s grey SOCKS!
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| My helpless sockieboy heart skips a beat as I espy Ms Mukta approaching me from across the yard on one of her regular late-night visits |
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GREY sock! I get
my first glimpse of plain, dark grey sock… |
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| …my favourites! |
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Sure enough, Ms
Mukta madam, in her infinite kindness, hitches up her right jean leg so that I
can observe her right sock in all its grey glory as I humbly kiss-respect her outstretched
sneaker… %20Sock%20Fickle.png) |
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| I zoom in, mentally and ocularly, on the sock |
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| Oh how I look up to Ms Mukta’s socks – both of them! |
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For they are the
socks of a local goddess, and I am in love with them! |
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…they would
never dream of going out with me – a mere public sockieboy-slave; a
sockieboy-slut; a sockie-whore! |
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But just being
so close to them, even if only for a few minutes at the end of each evening,
and knowing that they are saturated in Ms Mukta madam’s precious, feminine
footsweat having been on her feet all day inside her warm sneakers, fills me
with a warm glow… |
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…a pathetic
sockieboy-slave glow! |
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I am enraptured
by these socks… |
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…well and truly
captivated by them! My humble heart pathetically belongs to them! |
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Oh pray, Ms
Mukta’s grey socks…oh pray…pray don’t leave me, socks! |
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I will be a good
and loyal slave to you forever, socks! You are my life, Ms Mukta’s socks! |
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You see, there I
go again – telling a customer what he or she wants to hear i.e. that their
socks are my life! |
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Only, this time,
I meant
it! |
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Ms Mukta’s dark
grey socks are my life! And will no doubt be the death of me! |
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I hope, when I
do die, I can be buried with Ms Mukta’s grey socks resting eternally on top of
my upturned face… |
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…so that we can
be together in death, even though we weren’t together in life (due to my
lowliness!) |
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Except, of
course, Ms Mukta’s socks will never die! They will always contain her precious footsweat-DNA… |
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…another aspect
of Ms Mukta’s feet I can only dream about! |
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As her socks,
quite rightly, turn their backs on me… |
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…I study each
and every visible stitch. It’s as if time has stood still, even though her
socks are moving on; without me! |
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