Viewer Question: Would You Really Choose Socks Over a Woman’s Tits?

 Viewer Question: "Would you really choose socks over a woman's tits?"

Honestly? That question hit harder than I expected. Because yeah… I know what the “normal” answer is. I know what men are supposed to crave. Breasts. Cleavage. Curves. The kind of things you see in magazines, on billboards, in porn thumbnails designed to make you throb.

But for me?

It’s the socks.

Not because they’re more overtly sexual. Not because I think they’re better. But because I’ve surrendered to the fact that they undo me. That they reach something deeper—something smaller, weaker, and far more humiliating inside me.

When I see a woman in socks, something flips in my brain. I don’t feel bold or horny or dominant—I feel exposed. Like I’m not a man with desire, but a boy with a fetish. A submissive thing twitching and dribbling over fabric wrapped around her ankles while her tits are right there… and I can’t even focus. I’ve never deserved her tits. But her socks? That’s where I belong. That’s where I leak. That’s what I hump into when I’m alone. That’s what I ruin, again and again, like the shameful little fetishist I’ve always been.

So would I choose socks over tits?

I don’t think it’s even a choice anymore.

It’s instinct. It’s wiring. It’s humiliation and heat and helpless arousal all tangled together.

So yes. I’d choose the socks.

And I’d probably be leaking before I even realized I had.