My Sexy Babysitter's Perfect Feet Revisited

Published early on our Previews page on Monday, July 15, 2024.

Official publication date for the main page of our site: Tuesday, July 16, 2024.

This story was submitted anonymously.

The babysitter who watched over me from age 8 until I turned 12 years old while my parents worked had the most perfect feet that I had ever seen. Even though I was only 8 years old when Pamela first babysat me, I drooled over her perfect feet. I always wanted to tickle them. Of course, I had no idea why I had such a strong attraction to her feet.

Her feet were incredible soft with higher than usual wrinkled arches, and her perfectly aligned toes were always nicely pedicured. She painted her relatively short toenails with different colors. My favorite colors were apple red, light purple, and sky blue. Apple red was the color that I liked the most.

Always amused by it, she never got annoyed with me when I tickled her feet. I guess it's because I made an innocent game out of it by challenging her to see how long she could go without laughing. I think the longest that she ever let me tickle her feet without telling me to stop was for maybe 5 minutes at the most. When she did tell me to stop, she mostly just told me that it was time for me to do something else, and so I would.

This kind of foot tickling fun went on for about 3 years or so until shortly after I turned 11 years old. I can't tell you specifically what prompted me to do it, but after she told me one time that I needed to do something else, I came back with some rope.

When I started to tie her ankles together, she asked me with a laugh, "What do you think you're doing?"

"I'm going to tie your ankles together so that I can tickle your feet for as long as I like," I answered.

"Okay," she laughed, "if that's what you want to do, then go for it."

She didn't seem troubled by what I was about to do, so I guess that's why she let me do it. As you might imagine, I had a lot of fun tickling the soles of her feet while her ankles were tied together. Evidently, she didn't mind having her ankles tied together, so after that first time, she let me tie her ankles together whenever I wanted to tickle her feet.

I don't know how long this went on for, but one time after I tickled her feet, I decided to leave her ankles tied together. She didn't seem to care. I guess she thought that she'd untie her ankles before one of my parents got home, and nobody would be the wiser. Unfortunately for me, she fell asleep on the couch while reading a book, and she didn't wake up until after my mom got back home.

"Henry!" I heard my mom call for me. "Come out here now!"

When I walked into the living room, she said rather sternly, "You can't leave Pamela tied up on the couch. What were you thinking? It's time for us to talk."

I was totally embarrassed by my mom's intervention, but Pamela didn't seem upset at all. It turned out that my mom had gotten the scoop from her about my fascination for feet, and the two of them had come to an understanding about how to move forward before I was called into the living room.

To my further embarrassment, my mom explained in front of Pamela that I probably have a foot fetish. I had no idea what that was, so she told me. Given that Pamela is only 6 years older than me, she also explained to her what having a foot fetish means. It was then that both Pamela and I learned that having a foot fetish means that there's a sexual component to having a special interest in feet. There's nothing wrong with it, and it's a very common sexual fetish.

Much to my disappointment, my mom said to us without judgment that any further foot tickling would be inappropriate under the circumstances, and that we were not to engage in it. I think that I probably would have tried to do it again anyway, but Pamela was steadfast in not breaking my mom's trust.

Pamela stopped watching over me the following year after she turned 18 years old, and she graduated high school to go on to college. Besides, by then I was 12 years old, and my mom decided that she could trust me to watch out for myself until she or my dad got home.

I didn't see Pamela again until I was 26 years old, and she was 32. By then, I had passed the California Bar Exam. I was working as a junior attorney in a law firm, hoping to become a partner. Pamela was also an attorney, but she was already a partner in her law firm. She and I were working in the same court house on separate cases when I spotted her in a nearby cafe during a lunch break.

We decided to meet up for dinner later that evening at a restaurant in Santa Monica. Coincidentally, both of us rent apartments not far from each other in Santa Monica. I'm unattached, and she's recently divorced.

Things went really well at the restaurant. I was making more than enough money to pay for our meal, so I did. She happily accepted my offer to pay even though it was pretty clear that she was much more financially stable than me. Once we got past her having been my "babysitter" all those years ago, she wanted to know if my mom had been right about me having a foot fetish.

I told her that I do in fact have a foot fetish, and I also told her how much I think about her feet. When I told her that she's the one who brought me into manhood, and I laughed about it, she confessed to me that she really liked it when I tickled her feet. She also confessed to me that she had suddenly noticed me getting hard when I tickled her feet, especially when her ankles were tied together.

"I wasn't sure how to handle it," she explained. "I mean, you weren't the only one who was getting aroused. Under the circumstances, I knew that it had to stop. Thankfully, your mom intervened to set things straight, and I was able to avoid that dilemma."

"I had no clue," I laughed.

"I know you didn't," she agreed. "How could you? You were so young. I didn't really clue in to what was happening either until all of a sudden I realized that the foot tickling was sexual for you. That's about when I realized that it was sexual for me as well. In retrospect, I now remember that I always got wet when you tickled my feet. I just didn't think much about it back then. I was blissfully clueless about what was actually going on until your mom laid it out for us."

"I know what you mean," I told her. "I get it now. I just didn't get it then."

We learned a lot about each other that night at the restaurant. I found out that her divorce had been hard even though she had been the one to file for it. "We were no longer compatible," she explained. "I had to get a divorce."

She found out from me that I had a hard time telling women about my foot fetish, and even when I did tell them, I felt embarrassed about it with them.

"You don't have to feel embarrassed about it with me," she smiled.

"I know," I said with a knowing smile. "I can just talk to you about it, and not feel weird."

"Because it's not weird," she told me.

"I just wish that I could do more than talk to you about it," I blurted out. Then I quickly added, "Oops! I didn't mean to be forward with you. My bad."

"I don't mind that at all," she assured me. "Just be yourself. That's what I'm being. I'm being myself with you."

So with a laugh I replied, "Then how about you come over to my place so that I can tie your ankles together, and tickle your feet."

"I guess we can do that," she giggled. "But I think you should come over to my place. If you're going to tickle my feet, I really want to take a shower, and I'll be more comfortable doing that at my place."

Naturally, I was fine with going over to her apartment. I followed her over to her place, and I parked in a 2nd space that's designated for her apartment. She has a 3 bedroom, 2 and 1/2 bath apartment. Mine is a 2 bedroom, 1 and 1/2 bath apartment with about half of the square footage that she has. Her apartment is much fancier than mine. She rented hers for the space, and I rented mine for the cost.

After she excused herself to take a shower, she came back with nothing on but a bath robe, or so it seemed, and she laid down on the couch on her stomach. It was just like the old days when she was my sitter, except this time the sexual tension could be cut with a knife.

"How's this?" She asked with a knowing smile.

"Perfect," I told her.

"You'll want to use these I'm sure," she giggled after pulling out a couple of long silk scarves from one of the pockets of her bathrobe.

Her sexy feet were perfectly pedicured with my favorite candy apple red toenail polish, and her alluring wrinkled soles were waiting for my probing fingers. Tickling her soles wasn't the only thing that I had on my mind, though. I had gotten into the pleasure of shrimping, which for anybody who doesn't know is toe sucking. So as soon as I tied her ankles together with the silk scarves that she had given to me, I sat at the end of the couch with her feet in my lap, and I lifted her legs up so that I could suck her toes more easily.

"Wow!" She exclaimed. "That feels incredible!"

"I'm glad you like it," I told her. "Have you ever had anybody suck your toes before?"

"Never, and you're really good at it." She answered. "What an amazing sensation!"

"Thanks," I replied with glee. "This is a dream come true."

For the next half hour or so I worshiped her soles, and toes with a hard-on practically the whole time. I also thoroughly massaged both of her feet, which lead me to massage the back of her legs, her buttocks, and then her back along with her neck, and arms. To my delight, she had, in fact, been completely naked underneath her robe.

At one point she said to me, "I could get hooked on this."

"I hope that you do," I replied. "Whenever you feel like having your feet worshiped, and your body massaged, just let me know, and I'll come over."

"No strings attached?" She asked.

"No strings attached," I assured her. "I'm not trying to have a relationship with you or anything. I just really love your feet, and it gives me pleasure to give you a full body massage as well."

"Like I said, I could get hooked on that," she replied. "As for the relationship stuff, I'm glad you said that because I'm a long way from wanting to have another relationship."

"I figured as much," I told her, "so don't sweat it."

We did end up having sex a couple of weeks later, but it wasn't intentional on my part, or hers. It just happened naturally.

After worshiping her soles and toes in my usual way with her ankles tied together on the couch, and giving her a full body massage, I naughtily slipped my hand in between her upper thighs to brush my fingers along her slippery pussy, which was very wet by then, and she blurted out that she thought we should go into her bedroom.

I quickly united her ankles, and she lead me into her bedroom where she asked me to take my clothes off while she stripped off her robe. After getting onto the bed, and lying on her back, she pulled out a condom from her nightstand, and she laid it next to her on the bed.

"You don't have to be with me if you don't want to," she told me.

"Are you kidding?" I smiled. "You're gorgeous! Of course I want to be with you."

"Good," she laughed. "Otherwise, that would have been embarrassing!"

I tied her ankles together again, lifted her bound feet over my head, and I rested her tied ankles on the back of my neck to keep them in place. After putting the condom on my hard cock, I eased it into her slippery wet pussy, and then I held her wrists together above her head to fuck her. She's quite limber, so it was easy to fuck her like that.

"Oh my God! You feel so big inside of me!" She exclaimed.

My cock is about 6 inches when it gets hard. Sometimes it gets close to 7 inches when it gets really hard. But I know from experience that my cock always seems to feel much bigger to a woman when I'm fucking her the same way that I fucked Pamela.

That 1st time we had sex, I happily learned that she's naturally submissive in bed, and she learned that I'm naturally dominant. Despite her protests, it quickly became clear to me that the more I ignored her protests, and held her down to take her, the more aroused, and turned on she'd get. To be sure, though, I asked her at the start if she was okay with what I was doing to her, and she fervently insisted that she loved what I was doing.

"Don't stop just because I'm protesting," she confirmed. "I love to be taken like this!"

"Okay," I replied, "but if you really want me to stop, please let me know."

"Don' worry," she assured me. "If I really want you to stop, you'll definitely know for sure that I want you to stop."

I should point out that with the right sexual partners, role playing in bed like we were actually doing is something that both partners choose to do to make the sex more exciting, and more intensely rewarding. Who would have guessed when I was 8 years old, and she was 14 years old that we'd have that kind of sexual compatibility as adults?

In any case, Pamela and I decided after a heartfelt discussion that we'd be friends with benefits without the baggage of trying to maintain a relationship beyond sex. In the 10 years that we've been seeing each other for sexual fun, it's worked out pretty well.

The only interruptions that we've had have been when she's gotten kind of serious with a guy she's dating, and she decides to only have sex with him. I'm always happy for her when that happens, but I'm naturally bummed out about it, too. So far, though, after a relatively short period of time, she's ended up moving on to another guy, or nobody at all for a while, and our friends with benefits relationship resumes.

Being a confirmed bachelor, I more or less bounce in and out of swinging relationships, which involves a number of different combinations including threesomes, and small groups at swinger parties. It's a constant pattern of getting tested for STD's on a regular basis, which I've gotten used to doing.

Where my relationship with Pamela ends up, the only thing we know for sure, at the very least, is that we'll be life long friends, which will likely always include at the very least a lot of foot fetish activities. After all, like me, she's gotten hooked on it, and it makes us happy.