Didi – My Story
The History Behind a Foot Slut - Part 1

Published on Wednesday, June 23, 2010
This story was submitted by Didi.

To read this author's 1st story, click A Challenge To Make A Guy Cum With My Feet.

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You can also see photo contributions from Didi here in this topic of our chat forum.

Editor's note: Not all of this story has been edited for
errrors, so consider it to be an "as is" publication.

As most of you will know, I have been sending in stories of my foot adventures to greatfeet.com for a while now. I have also sent in lots of pictures of my feet in thongs and giving footjobs. Through these contributions I have received lots of fan mail by email. Some of this fan mail is flattering, lots of it is requests for new pictures of my feet. Almost all of it is complimentary to my feet. Recently I have had a few requests for me to tell my story about how I got into the foot scene and to describe who the players were through my journey into becoming a self styled foot-slut.

I have always been a fan of wearing sandals, mainly through my mum. She has worn sandals for as long as I can remember. My mum has always worked in the restaurant game, mainly at my dad’s restaurant and because of this she generally wore thong style sandals for comfort. I remember special nights at the restaurant when she’d wear high heeled strappy sandals and I was always impressed at the way she dressed her feet. I think the only style sandal I have never seen her wear is the gladiator style. She also always has nail varnish on her toes and these days, with me being a beauty therapist, I am the person who applies it for her. I don’t think she has ever worn any colour apart from red but unlike me, she likes to keep her toenails long.

I know this revelation will excite many of you, but before you ask, I’m not going to start taking pictures of my mum’s feet and for those that have followed the stories that feature my sister Amy, the same goes, I will not be publishing pictures of her feet either.

Anyway, back to my mum. As a sandal fan she used to encourage me to wear them too. The funny thing is, contrary to what I wear these days, as a child and teenager I didn’t like wearing thongs. I always felt that the toe post dug into my foot and found them uncomfortable. My mum however and still to this day wore thongs about 95% of the time. Even though she wore sandals all of the time, she only ever had about four of five pairs at once. Unlike me, I probably have over thirty pairs of thongs alone. She used to buy her thongs from an independent shoe shop, the guy who owned it used to buy sandals from Italy and India and the styles were always glamorous, I think that was why my mum shopped there. As an individual sort of character, she could buy sandals that very few other people wore. Most of the thongs she bought usually had a wedge heel, never flat. I think this was to help boost her barefoot height of 5ft 2inches!

I was surprised as a youngster how much time she’d spend painting her toenails and taking care of her skin, but I always thought she had pretty feet. She used to paint my toenails too, but she used to tell me I should wear pink polish until I was old enough to wear the “adult colour red” that she wore. I never really thought much about this at the time until I was older and got into the foot scene, when I realised most foot guys liked red on female toes and this was part of the attraction. I have never asked my mum, but I sometimes wonder if she knew one or more foot fetish guys. I know for sure that my dad is not into feet, I don’t think I’ve ever seen him even glance at her feet and if he was a foot guy, he wouldn’t be able to resist her beauties.

So to my feet, as I’ve already said, I never used to wear thong type sandals. As a teenager I used to wear strappy roman sandals a lot. With the hot Australian climate, they were perfect for keeping my feet cool and I could wear them at school and they were comfortable enough to wear most of the time. My mum used to buy me good quality sandals from her friendly local shoe shop. I had the same style roman sandals for years, either in white, natural leather or tan leather. They had straps criss-crossing my feet and buckled around my ankle.

I finished school at 18 and although I had started college, I like most Australians wanted to travel to Europe and visit the old country. My dad was born in France and my mum’s family is English, so they were two of the places I desperately wanted to see. I finally saved up enough money to travel when I was 19 and I set off with a backpack and a trusty pair of white roman sandals and headed off for six months. It was in England that I met the first foot fetishist that I’d ever come across.

I travelled around Spain and Portugal from the March to early May and then I’d been to France and tracked down some of my dad’s family. I had spent spring there and travelled to England in early July. It was 1995. It was the first summer for years were the weather in England was hot and sunny. I was glad I’d travelled in my roman sandals. It was humid and my feet were as hot and sweaty as they’d ever been.

I had only taken the one pair of sandals and I’d been on the road for four months, they were starting to wear out. What were pristine white shiny sandals when I left Australia were now on their last legs. The insoles had deep impressions were my soles and toes sat and the white leather was worn through. The white coating had millions of little cracks and my foot sweat and the dust I had picked up on my travels had stained the insole and the inside of the straps. The outside wasn’t faring much better either. A few of the straps had frayed and were no longer attached to the sandal sole. The outer sole was worn smooth and was scuffed all around the edges. They were starting to stink too. Because I was either hitchhiking or walking as much as possible, I was on my feet a lot. Some of the youth hostels I stayed in had poor facilities and sometimes I didn’t get a chance to wash my feet as often as I’d like. I had taken one bottle of pink nail varnish with me and a very basic manicure kit. My toenails were chipped more often than not and my toenails were much longer than I normally had them.

It was with feet like this that I met Sam, my first foot fetish acquaintance. I was hitchhiking in East Anglia when he pulled over to give me a lift. I was heading to a town called Ipswich to track down one of my mum’s cousins and Sam was going past the town on his way home. He was in a small delivery van and as it was about 3.30pm he was heading back home after doing his deliveries for the day. Sam was a few years older than me at about 22 or 23. He was cute to look at, blond and slim. When he picked me up at the side of the road, he told me we were about an hour away from Ipswich. We chatted easily and I was enjoying his company. I had noticed him glance down into the passenger foot well and assumed he was checking that I had enough room. I didn’t realise at the time that he was checking my feet out.

As we continued our journey, I asked whether it was ok to put my feet up onto the dashboard as they were so tired. He told me to go ahead. After a few minutes of my feet on the dash, I noticed him looking over at them regularly.
I asked him if he was sure if it was ok for them to be there and wondered if they were restricting his view of the road, he replied that he was happy for me to leave them there. He told me we were about 40 minutes from Ipswich at this point, so realising we had plenty of time I decided I’d take the opportunity to flex my feet a bit more. I reached forward and slipped my sandals off and dropped them to the floor. I then wiggled my toes around enjoying the air getting around them and the afternoon sun coming through the windscreen drying the sweat from my soles. Sam was paying even more attention to my feet at this point.

“Sorry, my feet must stink. I’m used to it with all this travelling, but they must smell strong to you,” I said to him hoping I wasn’t offending him.

“No they smell nice,” he replied looking over at them.

“You must be mad, they stink and my sandals are even worse!” I said laughing in embarrassment.

“I’m sure they don’t,” he said sheepishly.

“You want to bet,” I replied bending over and picking up one of my sandals. “I can smell them from here,” I continued holding it out as far away from my face as I could.

“Well I can’t smell them,” he replied giving a mock exaggerated sniff.

What I did next, was foolish, because he could have lost control of the van. I pushed my sandal right up to his face and laughed aloud asking if he could smell it now. He took in a deep breath and smiled without saying anything. I apologised for being silly and dropped my sandal back to the floor.

“That’s alright,” he replied. “No harm done and they really don’t smell that bad.”

I thought he was just being polite and then I noticed he was looking over at my feet again.

“You have really cute feet,” he said nervously, surprising me in the process.

“Oh no, not at the moment, they are in a terrible state,” I replied, “I haven’t had much chance to look after them lately.”

“They look good to me,” he replied sheepishly.

“Really?!” I replied. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. Your sandals are pretty too,” he said looking down at them in the foot well and then smiling at my face.

I had heard of guys having a foot fetish but had never met one before. I really didn’t know much about it and didn’t really understand why someone would find feet attractive, but suddenly I realised that this guy was a foot fetishist.

“Are you a foot guy?” I asked outright, being young and brash and not really thinking that I might offend him.

He was quiet for a moment and then told me that he loved female feet. He told me that he was drawn to looking at girls with cute feet and that he loved the smell of sweaty feet and shoes. I was taken aback at first, but I didn’t find it perverse or strange in any way. He told me that I was the first person he had ever told and the closest he’d got to enjoying feet, was giving his girlfriend a foot massage and that he’d sniffed her shoes and licked the insoles a few times. I found this amusing but not strange. My feet were so tired that I would kill for a foot massage, so I realised we could help each other out.

“A foot massage is just what I need,” I said smiling at him.

“Really?” He replied excitedly.

“Yeah really. Why don’t you pull over and I’ll let you massage my feet,” I said smiling back at him.

We continued on for a little while until we came across a rest stop at the side of the road, Sam pulled over and we both undid our seatbelts. I turned sideways and placed my feet on his lap. He turned slightly toward me and started to massage my left foot first. His hands were trembling, but his touch was firm and it felt so good. After a few minutes he moved onto my right foot. This was the first foot massage I’d ever had and I was really enjoying it. He massaged my lower calves and ankles and even the tops of my feet. I didn’t even realise the tops of your feet got tired until he massaged the tension out of them. He put my feet back down into his lap and I could see he was staring at them and was building up to ask me something.

“Is there something else you want to do?” I asked wondering what he was thinking.

“Can I suck your toes?” He asked. “I’ve always wanted to suck toes and yours look so tasty.”

“They’re not very clean. I’m not sure that would be a good idea,” I replied. I couldn’t see my soles from where I sat, but I knew they’d be pretty dirty.

“I’d dearly love to suck them and I could clean them in the process,” was his instant reply. He wasn’t giving up easily.

“Well if you really want to try it, go ahead.” I replied, giggling.

He gently cupped my right foot and pulled it closer to his face, he then started licking the tips of my toes. It tickled, but felt really nice. I looked closely at my feet and other than them being a bit dirty, they didn’t look that bad really. Most of my pink nail varnish was still intact, there were a few chips on my smaller toes, but both big toenails were still intact. As I looked closely, I realised that I’d never grown my nails so long before, they weren’t quite talons, but most of them were longer than the tips of my toes. Sam was still gently licking my toes and as he licked between them I giggled out loud. It felt wonderful. His tongue was warm and wet.

“How do they taste?” I asked him, realising he must have been enjoying it otherwise he would have stopped by now.

“Amazing. They taste just like I’d hoped,” he replied before lifting my foot further and running his tongue from my heel back up towards my toes.

I giggled again. “That feels so good. I never realised that it could be so good.”

He continued licking my foot all over. His tongue had licked the gaps between my toes, my entire sole and even the top of my foot. It really felt good.

“I thought you wanted to suck my toes?” I asked just as he’d finished licking every inch of my foot.

Without saying anything he gently eased my big toe away from my smaller toes and slipped it into his mouth. His tongue was swirling around it whilst it was in there and it felt so nice, I closed my eyes and sighed with pleasure. He moved on to sucking my smaller toes and he paid special attention to my little toe. I was convinced, having your toes sucked is one of the nicest feelings you could possibly experience. He lowered my right foot to his lap and gently cupped my left, repeating the whole experience again with this foot. As he was sucking the toes on my left foot, I pulled my right foot toward me and holding it in my hand I looked closely at it. He had given it such a good tongue bath, that it looked spotless. Apart from the few chips in my nail varnish, my foot looked like I’d just left a nail salon.

I looked down at my sandals and thought to myself that they were really due for replacement, my newly clean feet would make them look even more worn out when I came to putting them back on.

“It’s a pity your magic tongue can’t do for my sandals what you’ve just done for my feet.” I said to him laughing, just as he lowered my left foot back down to his lap.

“I could have a go,” was his response. This crazy guy wanted to burn his taste buds off!

“Nice offer, but I think I’ll just have to replace them,” I replied slipping my feet back into them.

“I could take you to a shoe shop I know in the next town,” he replied smiling as he started the van again.

“Oh, I’m not sure. I don’t have much money,” I replied.

“I’ll buy them for you, as a gift for letting me play with your feet,” he replied hopefully.

“Well, ok then. You have made my feet feel brand new and I suppose new sandals would be like a fresh start for my poor little feet,” I replied smiling at him.

We pulled back out onto the highway and as we drove Sam asked me how much I had enjoyed his foot massage and tongue treatment. I told him that I loved every second of it and told him he should offer the service to his girlfriend. We pulled into the next town, a place called Bury. Sam pulled over by some shops and I saw the shoe shop straight away. It was small but there were lots of pairs of sandals in the window. We went in together and I started looking for some roman style sandals similar to my own. My mum would have loved this place, they had so many different styles of thong sandal it was unbelievable. I couldn’t see any roman sandals though. Sam was looking at some ankle strap thongs and I could see he liked them.

“I’m not a big fan of thongs,” I told him. “I’ve never really got on with the toe post.”

“They’d suit you though,” was his disappointed response.

“I’ll tell you what. I’ll ask the clerk if she has any roman sandals out the back and if she doesn’t I’ll try them on,” I replied, not wanting to upset him.

The clerk told me that they were completely out of roman and gladiator style sandals and that thong sandals were having a bit of a resurgence that year. Apparently most girls were buying thongs with ankle straps. I looked down at her feet and she too had on thongs with ankle straps, in fact they were the same as the ones Sam was looking at. I asked her how comfortable they were and she told me that they were the first thongs she’d ever worn and they were so comfortable, she hadn’t worn anything else since she’d got them. I went back over to Sam and told him I’d try them. The clerk got my size from out the back and I slipped them on. As I walked around the store, I couldn’t believe how comfortable they were. Sam was thrilled and hurriedly bought them for me before I could change my mind. The clerk gave me a bag to put my old sandals in and we got back into Sam’s van and continued on towards Ipswich.

All the way Sam was complimenting my feet, telling me how good they looked in these new thongs. I kept telling him to watch the road. We eventually arrived in Ipswich and he pulled into my mum’s cousin’s road. He stopped the van a few houses short and turned off the ignition. We chatted for a while and I thanked him for the lift and the new sandals and of course for his special treatment for my feet. He asked me what I was going to do with my old sandals. I told him I’d probably keep them in reserve. He offered to take them away and clean them for me and promised to bring them back the next day. I knew what he had in mind. He’d more than likely lick them clean. I thought for a few seconds and as he’d been so kind I accepted his offer. I got out of his van and walked to my mum’s cousin’s house. I looked over and waved to Sam as he drove off.

I never saw him or my sandals again. I sometimes wonder if he still has them. He’s probably married with kids and maybe his wife lets him play with her feet. Maybe he has a secret place were my old sandals are hidden and he gets them out every now and then and sniffs them. I thought that he might have gotten into the foot scene via websites such as greatfeet.com, but if he has, he hasn’t made contact with me. Maybe he just hasn’t read my stories or seen the pics of my feet. Maybe he hasn’t realised who I am. If that is the case, I’m sure he’ll make contact after reading this story. The experience with Sam wasn’t sexual at all. I didn’t even think to check out his crotch for signs of a hard on.
I was a good girl back then and although I knew he was totally in to my feet, I never even considered going further. I had never even heard of a footjob back then. The girl I am these days, I would have given him a footjob right there in the rest stop and probably would have sucked his cock too, probably as I waited for him to lick my sandals clean!

My mum’s cousin Zoe greeted me at the door and immediately complimented me on my sandals. I told her that I’d only just got them. I stayed with Zoe for two weeks and she was great fun. She was a hairdresser and although she went to work each day, we went out most evenings. She was closer to my age than my mum’s and would have been about 25 at the time. Zoe also had the most amazing sandal collection. Luckily for me we had the same size feet and each evening as we went out, she’d let me borrow a different pair of her sandals. She had two pairs of stiletto heel thongs, one white and one black. One night we went out, she wore the white and I wore the black. They were the sexiest shoes I’d ever seen at that point and I vowed that one day, I’d buy a pair just like them. We spent lots of girly time together and we’d paint each others toenails. She encouraged me to leave my toenails long, which I did and for the first time in my life, I wore red nail varnish. I realised that it made me feel good to have pretty feet, I loved the look of red on my toes and thong sandals really suited me. I also realised that my feet looked just like my mum’s with the long nails and also realised that she wore thongs and red nail varnish for her own pride and benefit, not for anyone else. This was the exact time that I became a foot-girl. I have worn only thongs ever since and always paint my toenails. I wear mainly red polish too. It was later that I used my feet for sexual purposes, but this was the beginning of my journey to become a foot-slut.

(The photo above is already at its largest size)

 
Above is a collage of the only pictures I could find of my feet in Sam’s thongs I tried looking for a pic of my feet in the roman sandals, but can’t find any. The pictures were taken with a cheap 35mm camera back in December 1995. Knowing what I know now about foot fetishism, I can see the appeal of these sandals for Sam.

They didn’t last long though, by the end of that southern hemisphere summer, they had fallen apart. First the ankle straps went, I continued to wear them though and eventually the toe post gave way on the left sandal. But by then they’d been enjoyed by another foot guy and they’d helped me give my first footjob. I’m not sure Sam would have wanted them back. He wouldn’t like having to lick another man’s cum stains off them!
 
When I got back to Australia in the September, it was with just this one pair of sandals. I wore them everywhere and it’s no wonder they lasted barely seven months.   It was one night in the October that I met my long term foot friend VL. I was dancing in a night club and saw his smile across the room. I also saw him look down at my feet and yes you’ve guessed it, I was wearing Sam’s present. I also had red nail varnish on and still following Zoë’s advice, my toenails were long, very long. At this point you could definitely describe them as talons.  I’d also discovered foot jewellery by this point and I think I had a toe ring on every toe apart from my big toes and anklets on both feet. I wanted my feet to be noticed and with VL, he was the perfect kind of guy to notice them. But that is for part 2 of my story.