Foot Fetish Fun Under The Bleachers
(Published on Monday, November 1, 2004)
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The bleachers at the soccer field in my neighborhood park afford a great view of pretty female feet, especially if you are underneath them. There are games all of the time going on in good weather, and I enjoy taking a walk underneath the bleachers from one end to the other when there are so many pretty feet to enjoy. Naturally, it's one of those "look, but don't touch" situations. Still, it's fun to look, and to imagine what it would be like to play with a pair of pretty female feet underneath those bleachers.

For the longest time I did nothing but look. However, on one particular warm sumer evening, an opportunity to have some real foot fun came to be, and I wasn't about to let it pass me by. At the time, the bleachers were just beginning to fill up, so there weren't many people sitting down. I had already taken a couple of walks underneath the bleachers, very discreetly of course, but I saw nothing exceptional until a young mother sat down with her tiny baby boy. I guessed the mother to be about 24 or 26 years old. Evidentally, her husband was playing in one of the league games that was sponsored by his employer.

This woman had sat in the middle of the bleachers a few rows up, so luckily for me, her feet could be seen at just below eye level when she would dangle her flip flops. Her feet were about as perfect as they could be. I learned later that she wore size 9 flip flops, but her feet were a bit smaller, so I figured her to be a size 8 1/2. She had wonderfully high arches; not too high, but very nicely formed. Her soles were delciously wrinkled, her toes were in perfect symmetry with her big toe the largest, and then getting smaller to her pinkie toe. The pads of each one of her toes were shaped like little gum drops, and it appeared that her feet were incredibly soft.

Not all bleachers are built the same. Some are totally open and exposed. Others are panelled with wood or metal frames. This particular set of bleachers were covered at the ends with large tarps, and because the bleachers were pretty long from one end to the other, a person could stay pretty well hidden underneath, especially if you weren't right at the either one of the ends. From the soccer field, it's actually extremely difficult to see underneath the bleachers themselves because of the wood panelling that drops down in between each row of seats. Because of this design, however, a lot of people don't bother to dangle their feet beneath the seats. In fact, sadly, most don't.

This young mother, however, was sitting on the walk plank so that she could be face to face with her baby's portable carrying case, and be right there with her baby who was naturally at her side. So not only were her feet dangling with her flip flops, but her legs below her knees were exposed underneath the bleachers, too.

As I very discreetly stood there a few yards away from her feet, I could see that one of her flip flops was very close to falling off, and I hoped that it would. I was thinking that it might give me an opportunity to say something to her. I wanted to be closer to her feet, but I usually stay a few yards away when I'm looking at feet for fear that I will be caught so close to a woman's feet, and deemed some kind of a pervert. In and of itself, simply looking at women's feet is socially acceptable if it's not too blatant, but to hover near them could be seen as offensive and wrong.

To my good fortune, that dangling flip flop actually dropped off of her foot, and fell to the ground. Her legs soon disappeared, and I could suddenly see her face peering down in through the bleachers. As a cover, I often take a canvas satchel with me to collect cans that always find their way underneath the bleachers. I even end up recycling them for a little extra cash. You'd be surprised at how much that cash can ad up, especially with so much traffic at a busy park. So to cover my foot fetish intentions, I dropped down to the ground to pick up a couple of coke cans that I had left there purposely for just such an excuse.

When she finally saw me after adjusting to the relative darkness, she kind of laughed and asked, "Excuse me. Could you do me a favor, please?" Pointing to her flip flop on the ground, she said, "I just dropped my flip flop. Could you give it to me?"

I was happy to see that she was a very friendly women, and apparently thought nothing of seeing me underneath the bleachers. "Sure," I told her. "No problem." I walked over, picked up her flip flop, and handed it to her.

"Collecting cans, huh?" She asked.

"Yeah, just picking up some extra cash." I explained.

"Here," she exclaimed. She reached up to grab a couple of empty cans of coke and offered them to me. "Do you want these?"

"Oh, thanks," I replied. "I appreciate it."

"Hey, one good turn deserves another." She said with one of the sweetest smiles I had ever seen before. By now, she was just kind of lying on her side on that bleacher's walkway, and had once again dropped her legs beneath her. Instead of putting that dropped flip flop back on her bare foot, she removed her other flip flop and said, "I guess I'm better off not wearing these things until I'm ready to leave."

"That's probably a good idea." I agreed with her. "You'd be surprised at how many people drop their flip flops to the ground."

With a teasing voice she said, "Oh, so you're collecting a lot more than just coke cans, huh?"

"Uhhh ... I uhhhh..." I stammered. Normally I'm quick with a good retort, but having such an attractive young woman be so friendly with me threw me for a loop.

She could clearly see that she had embarrassed me, so she chimed in to say, "Hey, I'm only teasing you."

"You have gorgeous feet," I suddenly blurted out. "Oh, my God! Did I just say that out loud?"

With a cute laugh she replied, "Thanks. So let me ask you, since we're getting so chummy here, do you have a thing for feet, and is that why you're really underneath the bleachers?"

I was momentarily afraid that she'd call the police or something, even though I hadn't done anything illegal. However, I still felt embarrassed, and I suddenly felt like I was some kind of a pervert. I was dumbfounded, and was speechless.

"Hey, with me it's okay. I don't care if you have a foot fetish, if you do. I'm cool with it. My husband has one himself even though he hasn't been paying my feet much attention at all lately. In fact, with the baby and all, well, I don't want to cry you a river. Seriously, you have a foot fetish, right? Or are my instincts wrong."

She had evidentally caught on that I was clearly paying attantion to her feet. "Your instincts are right. I happen to have a foot fetish, and I'm sure that you've heard this many times before, but you have incredibly sexy feet."

"Well, thanks again. I do like to keep them in tip-top condition."

"Clearly," I agreed. "They seem so soft."

She grabbed her left foot, pulled it back towards her so that her arch wrinkled up even more than it naturally was, and told me, "They ARE soft. They're VERY soft." Motioning to me, she said, "Go ahead. You can touch."

"Are you sure?"

"Sure, unless you don't want to touch my foot. Don't worry. I won't bite. You have my permission."

I was aghast at this wonderful and unique opportunity. I reached for her foot and touched it. Then I kind of sqeezed it a bit, and gave her a quick, but gentle massage. "Wow! Your foot IS soft. VERY soft!"

"Thanks. I even have another one that is soft." She practically pushed her other foot in my face as I reached for it. I could smell just a slight hint of her rubber flip flop, but most of all I could smell the perfume of what was probably some kind of bath oil, or lotion of some kind. She cooed as she announced to me, "Hmm, you have a wonderful touch. Do you get paid by the hour?" She asked with a smile.

"I'd hardly have you pay for it," I told her. "I'd be happy to really give your feet a nice treat anytime that you'd like. Just say the word."

"Well, how comfortable are you down there?" She asked.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"What I mean is that if you're offering me a foot massage, I'm not about to turn it down. The thing is, being where we are and all, and with my husband out on the field, you'd have to be very discreet about it. Can you be discreet?"

"Discretion is my middle name." I promised her.

"Okay, then. You have my permission to have your way with my feet under the bleachers here. And not to be rude or anything, but would you mind very much if I sit up and pay attention to my husband's soccer game? If I don't sit up soon, it's going to start to look awfully suspicious."

"Absolutely," I told her. "As far as anyone is concerned, I don't exist here."

"Okay, well have fun then. I know I will." She said with a smile as her head disappeared, and she sat up, leaving only her legs and feet for my pleasure, and I hoped for her pleasure, too.

For the next hour or so, I teased, titillated, and worshipped her soles and toes with nobody but her and me being the wiser. Her feet were exceptionally soft, and I practically creamed my jeans before I even got started. I wanted so badly to immediately take each of her toes into my mouth, and to swirl my tongue in and around each and every crevice and wrinkle of her feet, but I reserved that naughtiness for later. I wanted to first give her feet the very best massage that she had ever experienced so that she'd be really happy that our paths had crossed, and so that she'd have zero regrets about allowing me to play with her feet.

She obviously couldn't show her pleaure by moaning out loud, and I wouldn't be able to hear her anyway because of the noisy crowd. However, she'd occasionally give me silent signs of approval and encouragement by squeezing her feet around one of my arms when she could, and she'd sometimes brush a free foot along one of my arms when I was stimulating her other foot. Because of the way that her legs and feet hung below these bleachers, I was easily able to massage her soles while also sucking each one of her toes. I was even able to place all of her toes of each of her feet into my mouth from time to time, and when I would hold her feet together on top of one another, I could put both of her feet and all of her toes into my mouth all at one time.

I licked each of her soles, nibbled on her soles, and also  nibbled and licked the meatier sides of her feet that outlined her arches. I sucked each of her toes until they wrinkled up in my mouth even more than they naturally were otherwise. I didn't realize it until much later at home that I had leaked pre-cum all over my underwear while playing with her feet. It was a delciously, and wonderfully satisfying experience.

I didn't talk to her again that night, because before I realized it, the soccer game was over, and her husband had actually returned to his wife's side, even as I was still playing with her feet. I was a little suprised that she hadn't pulled her feet away when he returned to her side, but she hadn't. Maybe she was getting turned on by the idea that another man was treating her feet so wonderfully while she was having a conversation with her husband at the same time. I'll never know. For all I know, maybe he knew that I was underneath those bleachers playing with his wife's feet, and it was a silent little secret that they had between them. All I know is that I continued playing with her feet for at least another half hour before they decided to leave.

Because her husband hadn't taken a peek underneath the bleachers himself to see me, or to say something to me, and because she had never bent over to say another word to me, I suspect that he never knew that I was pleasuring her feet, and pleasuring myself in the process on that warm summer evening. My thought was that she couldn't say anything more to me for fear of disturbing or revealing the naughty little secret that she and I had clearly shared together.