Caught In The Act
Published on Thursday, January 10, 2008
This story was submitted anonymously.
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I'm not like a lot of you guys who are good with
women. I never have been. I'm almost forty years old, still not
married, I've never really had any steady girlfriends, and I live alone
in a small single apartment that sits in the basement of our building
next to our laundry room. But I've adapted, and I'm suprisingly happy
with my lifestyle. As of this writing, I'm also in a very upbeat state
of mind because something happened to me the other day that ended up
turning into a number of incredible foot fetish adventures that I will
always look fondly on even if it all stops tomorrow. So I can finally
say with a knowing smile on my face that there is no reason to feel
sorry for me. I might even go so far as to say that many of you might
end up being jealous when you read my story. Okay, my particular
lifestyle will certainly seem sad to many of you, but let's face it,
for a foot fetish guy who has feet to enjoy regularly, life is not bad
at all.
Debbie has lived in an apartment in the floor above
me for close to ten years. Her husband is a nice enough guy, but we
never became friends; just acquaintances. Over the years, Debbie and I
had become somewhat friendly towards one another, more than I had with
her husband at least, but we were never particularly close until
recently. The only time that we ever really saw each other was when we
were both picking up our mail in the lobby, or in the laundry room in
our apartment building. Our chats were always pretty brief. Even now,
ours is a friendship of odd circusmstances, and similar sexual tastes.
So far, in the dozen or so times that we've gotten together, things
have worked out amazingly well. Tentatively, both of us clearly want
our friends with benefits
relationship to continue, but we don't really speak about it for
ruining whetever it is that we have together.
I've had a foot fetish for as long as I can remember.
I had noticed Debbie's exceptionally perfect feet the first day that
she and her husband had moved into their apartment. Just by chance I
ended up helping them move some of their belongings into their place.
Oddly enough, the conversations that I had with both Debbie and her
husband on that first day we met were the longest we had ever had. But
in our building, people in it, including me, like our privacy, so none
of us really socialize beyond the normal greetings as we pass one
another in hallways, or when we pick up our mail, or when we do our
laundry.
But even when we do our laundry, we all somehow manage to schedule
ourselves so that it's rare when any two of us are doing laundry at the
same time. In a 25-unit building with only
three washing machines, and two dryers, things just kind of worked out
that way, and everyone seems to be happy.
Naturally, I could never have forgotten about Debbie's sexy feet after
seeing them on that first day, but I knew from the start that it would
be pointless to try anything with her. So after a while I just
fantasized about her feet on occasion, and accepted the way things were.
It seemed like only yesterday when Debbie and her husband moved into
our building, but almost ten years had passed. For years Debbie had
done her laundry in the daytime, pretty much on the same day of the
week, and at the same time. I always gave her space, though, and rarely
ever came out of my apartment when she was doing her laundry. On rare
occasions Debbie would stay down in the basement while her laundry
cycles were going on, but most of the time she was only in the basement
when she needed to be there between cycles, and then to take her
clothes back upstairs.
On one fateful day while stepping out of my apartment, I noticed with
delight that Debbie had left a pair of slippers on the floor of the
laundry room. I guessed that she has meant to thrown them into the
washer with a load of laundry, but had forgotten them. I've never been
a shoe fetish kind of guy; just a foot fetish one, but there was
something about those slippers that compelled me to pick them up in my
hands, and give them a good inspection.
One would have thought that I would have known the size of Debbie's
feet after having lived in the same building for years with her, but I
hadn't known. Remember, we weren't particularly close. To my amusement,
a smile hit my face when I turned one of the slippers over to find that
I had correctly guessed the size of her feet all along. Debbie's feet
were size 9 1/2. I realize that many of you prefer the so-called
perfect size of 7 1/2, but I'm more attracted to larger female feet as
long as they are in good shape, and with toes that are symmetrical.
As I squeezed the softness of Debbie's slippers in my hands, a vision
of her feet came to my mind. I had seen her in these very slippers
many, many times. In a robe of the same color, she would often come
down to the laundry room wearing them. Without giving it a second
thought, I opened the washer's lid, interrupting its cycle, and noticed
Debbie's robe with the other clothes. I reached through the water,
grabbed it in my hands, and pulled it up a bit to confirm that it was
the same robe I usually saw her wear. She had another robe she sometmes
wore, but this robe was the same purple color as her slippers.
Normally I prefer it when women wear open-toed slippers, which these
were not. On the other hand, especially if one can see the wrinkles of
a woman's soles on the side of the slippers, the desire to see those
hidden toes seem that much more powerful. Debbie had worn these
slippers for almost two years, I remembered, so they were well worn,
and had perfect imprints of her feet inside them. Looking inside, I
could even see her tow prints, and I wanted to feel them. I did. I
reached in, and carefully felt every single impression of each of her
toes. My cock started to get hard.
I'm not the kind of foot fetish guy who is into smelling feet as many
of you are, but I felt compelled to put my nose into each of Debbie's
slippers, and take some big whiffs. Sad to say for many of you who
enjoy bad smelling feet, but I instead smelled the delightful fragrance
of some kind of perfume. Or maybe it was just a fragrance of some kind
of soap. It was marvelous, and I imagined having my nose pressed down
upon Debbie's toes.
Suddenly I heard the distinct sound of the laundry room's door opening
at the top of the stairs around the corner, and then the sounds of
someone walking down the stairs. I panicked, quickly tossed Debbie's
slippers in with the wash, closed the lid, and made a beeline back into
my apartment. But before I could get inside, I heard Debbie's voice
say, "Oh,
hey. How's it going?"
"Fine," I stammered back. I quickly turned around as if I
had just opened my door to leave rather than opened it to get back
inside.
"That's
strange," I heard Debbie say.
"What?"
I asked.
"I
could have sworn that I left my slippers down here," she
said.
It was then that I noticed she was barefoot. "Uh,
maybe you put them into the wash." I told her as my heart
raced from seeing her bare feet.
"No,
they didn't need washing," she explained as she opened
the lid to the washing machine. Before I could say anything she added, "Ooops. I
guess I did put them in." She looked at me strangely as
if she knew that she hadn't put them in. But she was nonetheless
friendly to me.
Still feeling flustered from the previous week's encounter with Debbie,
the next week I was shocked to see a pair of Debbie's leather sandals
lying on top of the washer. It was as if she had put them there to
tempt me, or so I had wished in my perverted little mind. Her sandals
were well worn, and it felt exciting to touch, and feel every single
impression that she had made with her heels, toes, and parts of her
soles that pressed down upon the leather. "I think
I'm becoming a shoe fetishist," I thought to myself as I
rubbed her sandals all over my face.
When I saw that Debbie had left her sandals in the laundry room for a
third straight week, my perversion went into high gear. I started to
fantasize that Debbie was leaving her sandals in the laundry room on
purpose for my benefit. That's how perverted my mind had become. "But to
what benefit is this to Debbie?" I asked myself.
My mind wandered to a deeper, and darker perversion that had always
fascinated me. So rather than play with Debbie's sandals in the laundry
room on that third week, I took them into my apartment with me so that
I could be even more perverted with them. For quick action on my part,
I left the door to my apartment open so that I could hear the door to
the laundry room being opened, which would let me know that Debbie was
on her way downstairs. I stripped myself naked on the bed, laid face
down on her sandals, and with my eyes closed in a fantasy world of my
own making, I began fucking her sandals as if Debbie herself was
underneath me. In no time at all, I came into my bed, but luckily not
onto her leather sandals, which I was sure would have left a stain.
A few minutes after cumming, I heard the laundry room's door open. I
quickly jumped off the bed, put her sandals back, and returned behind
the closed door of my apartment, at which point I could see Debbie
walking into the laundry room through the peephole of my door. "Close
call," I thought to myself. As she passed my door into
the laundry room, I could have sworn that she looked towards my
direction with a knowing smile on her face. Of course, I knew that even
if she had looked over at my door, there was no way that she could have
known what I had just been doing with her sandals.
On the fourth week, Debbie once again left her sandals in the landry
room. Like the previous week, I took them into my apartment with me,
and got naked with them on the bed. As I had done the week before, I once again stripped myself naked on the bed, and laid face
down on
her sandals. I closed my eyes to imagine a naughty scene with Debbie's
feet, but for some reason I couldn't concentrate that well without it
being absolutely dark. Being in the basement, my apartment was darker
than most, but with the door to my apartment open to make sure that I
would hear Debbie coming back down the stairs into the laundry room,
there was light shining into my place from the bare bulb just outside
my door. I reached over to my nightstand, opened the drawer, and pulled
out a sleep mask that I had used numerous times to take daytime naps.
It was very effective, and gave me the kind of darkness that would help
with my fantasizing.
I really didn't do much but gyrate a little upon Debbie's sandals. Most
of the time I just laid still, and pictured in my mind Debbie's feet
next to my mouth and tongue. I stretched my arms up towards the iron
head board of my bed, and reached through its bars to hold onto the
edge of the mattress. I stretched out my legs, too, until I could feel
my toes almost reaching the end of the mattress. I have a king sized
bed, so even with my arms stretched out above me, my toes barely met
the end of the bed. It felt good to stretch out like that, especially
with Debbie's sandals underneath my cock, which had grown in size from
the pleasure of rubbing down upon the leather.
Without warning I heard a couple clicks of metal, and suddenly realized
that someone had just handcuffed me to my bed's iron headboard. Whoever
had done it was so swift in handcuffing me that I didn't really know
what had happened until I was cuffed. I wasn't sure what to think, and
instinctively tried to get up on my knees, but it was to no avail.
Someone's body had just straddled my backside. "What are
you doing?" I blurted out.
"What
am I dong?" I heard a woman's voice say. "What are
YOU doing with MY sandals."
The tone of voice was more amused
than angry, which kind of caught me off guard. And I may not have recognized Debbie's voice right away, but I
immediately knew it was her because she mentioned her sandals. In a
flash I was mortified. I was also quite embarrassed to be completely
naked in front of her. Has this been a fantasy, it surely would have
been terrific. But this was for real, and I wasn't so sure how I felt
about it. My cock did the talking for me.
"Look
at how hard you are," Debbie said as she reached
underneath me, and grabbed my cock.
I couldn't say a word. I really didn't know what to say.
"Cat
got your tongue, huh?" She asked.
"Uhhh
..." I stammered, but was quickly interrupted.
"Nope!
Better that you don't talk right now," she commanded with
a smack against my ass.
"Owww!"
I exclaimed in pain.
"Quiet!"
She said quite firmly. Debbie seemed to mean business. "Hold on
right there," she continued as she pulled off my sleep
mask, and headed for my door. She closed it shut, locked it, and then
sat on top of my backside again. "Listen," she said. "I've
been watching you these last few weeks."
"But how?" I interrupted.
She smacked my ass again, but I kept quiet. "It
dawned on me that you have some kind of fetish for my shoes that first
time you had me believe that I had put my slippers into the wash."
"You knew then?" I asked.
She smacked my ass again. "Let me speak,"
she insisted.
"But ..." I
tried to explain.
"But
what?" She asked.
"But
I don't have a shoe fetish," I told her.
"What?"
She asked incredulously.
"I
admit I have a foot fetish, but I don't have a shoe fetish,"
I corrected her.
"Oh,"
she said with some seriousness. "I didn't know that. So you have a foot
fetish for MY feet?"
Oddly enough, I had suddenly become quite relaxed. I know
it sounds strange, but I felt at ease with Debbie straddling me while I
was handcuffed to the bed. So I answered her saying, "Yes, I
do have a fetish for YOUR feet. They are amazing!"
"Thank you," she replied. She seemed genuinely pleased.
I don't know what got into me, but I blurted out, "So, do
you have a spanking fetish?"
"I suppose I do," she said. "I never
really thought about it." I turned my head more directly,
and gave her a look of disbelief. "Seriously, I never gave it much thought. I
really enjoy reading through trashy novels when there is a lot of
spanking, though, so maybe I do have a fetish for it."
"Are you wet from spanking me?" I asked with sincerity.
"Very!" She
proclaimed. With glee in her voice, she then announced, "I have
an idea."
She turned herself around so that she was facing away from me as she
straddled my body. In this position she could easily, and comfortably
shove her feet underneath my face, and be in a perfect position to give
me a spanking. I wasn't at all fond of spanking; at least being
spanked, but I wanted to see where this odd pairing of ours might lead.
Besides, I loved having
Debbie's wonderfully wrinkled soles pressed up against my face. But I
wanted my hands free, too, so that I could totally devour her soles and
toes.
"Do
you mind?" I asked while pulling at my handcuffs.
"Oh
sure," she replied as she unlocked my cuffs.
We remained in the same position for a while as I played with her
soles, and she spanked me. But thankfully, just as my butt was getting
pretty hot from getting spanked what I thought was too many times,
Debbie asked if it would be all right if she could just lay there, and
have me pleasure her feet. So I had her lay face down on my bed while I
thoroughly enjoyed every inch of her wrinkled soles, and each of her
toes, which I sucked for a long period of time.
Debbie was in my apartment for almost two hours before she realized
that she should be getting on with the rest of her day. For a short bit
things were uncomfortable near the end of our session before she left
because we had to talk out what we had just done. We kind of agreed
that we'd not only keep what we had done between ourselves (albeit anonymously to you at Great Feet),
but that we would have foot fetish fun together each week when she
would do her laundry. Nothing was set in stone. After all, she is
married, and we do not have a
relationship. Yes, it's sexual, but we do not have intercourse with each
other.
That informal agreement between us was made months ago, and with few
exceptions, I've pretty much had my way with Debbie's feet almost
weekly. I do more than have her feet sexually, which is great for me,
and oddly rewarding for Debbie. But for Debbie, which I enjoy doing for
her, I actually give her really great foot massages that are long, and
real. So she's happy. I'm happy. And everybody still gets to do their
laundry at their scheduled times.
Surprisingly, even Debbie's husband knows about the foot massages I
give her. She just hasn't gotten into the details of how I enjoy her
feet. He's actually a pretty decent guy, and we figure that there's no
compelling reason to let him know everything.
I should add that a couple of Debbie's girlfriends have come over with
her so that I can give them foot massages, and each of them have come
over more than once. Maybe I'll write about those encounters as well.
The thing is, their foot massage sessions have never gotten sexual; at
least not in their eyes. Still, for me it's all quite sexual because I
lick their soles, and suck their toes, which they thoroughly look
forward to enjoying. I just don't use my cock to play with their feet.
This story was submitted anonymously.
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To do this, just click
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