My Love Of Cum

I was 13 when my cum fetish began. My family was very normal and suburban. I lived with my parents and older brother (14). We each had chores. Mine was usually laundry. I’d found my brothers crusty socks before and knew why they were like that, and it didn’t bug me. I actually started enjoying the smell, at least of the ones that weren’t too sweaty and just musky. I remember the first time finding a fresh one, just thrown in the laundry. It was still soaking wet with his cum. It was balled up by I unraveled it and could still see big streaks and globs very visible. The smell was intoxicating. I got it close enough to my nose that I could feel it leave just a bit on my face. I could feel an urge that still makes me wet thinking about it and that was the urge that compelled me to lick it. I’d never really thought of brother in a sexual way before (still don’t) but it felt like it didn’t matter whose cum it was. Something compelled me to it. From then on, I kept a lookout for his cum filled socks. Creeping into his room sometimes when he wasn’t around looking for the freshest ones. I was usually pretty lucky. I’d typically take them to my room and lock the door. I was always torn about how it made me feel. I knew it wasn’t normal and most of the time I felt awful and shitty like something was wrong with me. But that only made me cum faster. My favorite was to keep the sock in my mouth while I fucked the handle of my hairbrush, occasionally spanking my ass with the back end when I was feeling especially guilty. This continued until he moved out of the house, but my love of cum has continued to a minor obsession over the years. I’m happily married now, and my husband has been very understanding about a lot of things, but I still haven’t told him about where my love of cum really started.