For the Love of a Fetish

I wasn't entirely sure what I was doing, to be honest. Ever since my partner had confessed her love for all things feet, I was obliged to accommodate.

My name is Mariah. I am a successful attorney with a reputable firm, practicing criminal law. Most women would say that I am attractive, although I would beg to differ. I was never one to toot my own horn, as it were. I am twenty-eight, tall, at five-foot-ten, and sport a slender, athletic body.

My breasts aren't overly large, but Susan, my partner of four years, finds them more than adequate. My hair is shoulder length, and professionally styled.

Susan owns her own business, struggling though it may be, I give her credit for trying, considering the world economy, at the moment. She was the one who caught my eye, one evening at a local lesbian club.

My partner is not quite as tall as me, at only five foot six. She has stunning blonde hair that cascades almost to her butt, and a smile that simply lights up any room. Unlike myself, she is stunningly beautiful.

Our sex life hadn't been anything to write home about, but it was certainly alive. As busy as I was, we were lucky to make love more than twice a week. It was always good, and we were both careful to always reciprocate when it came to satisfaction.

All was going well, or so I thought, when I arrived home three hours earlier than normal. This was a serious break in my routine, as I never, ever came home early. I thought it would be fun to sweep in on her and make love in the afternoon when we both weren't so tired.

So, it was with a certain degree of shock when I discovered Susan, completely naked and thoroughly engrossed in her computer. She was wearing headphones, so it was easy enough for me to sneak up on her from behind. What I saw on the screen was odd.

When I fully expected to find a video running with two women making love, what I saw instead was a lovely blonde with a brutal pixie licking the soles of a rather Rubenesque brunette. I had to do a double-take to be certain of what I saw.

It was then that I noticed that Susan had what appeared to be a vibrating egg inside her, and was running her thumb up and down the wired control, the buzzing growing louder and softer.

Torn between a quiet retreat and a full-on assault, I chose the latter. How I wish I hadn't. When I tapped Susan gently on the shoulder, she flew out of the chair, spinning to find me in my business suit. The stark contrast between her nakedness and my formal attire must have been comical, to anyone but her.

Of course, as soon as she stood, the vibrating egg plopped out of her, landing on the hardwood floor, dancing about as it continued to buzz. Her eyes were so wide that I swore they might actually pop out of their sockets.

"Susan?" I asked, as gently as my current state of shock allowed.

She bent down retrieving the egg and shut it off, along with the video, then seemed to grasp at her mouth for a moment. Only then did she turn back to face me. "Mari? I..." She stammered, a line of drool finding its way out of the corner of her mouth.

"Did you have something in your mouth, as well?" I questioned.

Her hands behind her, she looked to the ceiling in frustration and then brought her hands in front of her, opening the right one. Inside, a rather wet-looking sock unfurled.

"Is that mine?" I asked, knowing full well that it was. I recognized it as one of the anklets I wore to work out, and by the color the one I had worn the day before.

"Please, Marion. Let me explain." She begged, attempting to hand the sock to me. I held it for a moment, but realizing how wet it was, I immediately dropped it.

"I don't think there's too much to explain here. You have a foot fetish, don't you?" I wasn't entirely naïve. I knew full well what fetishes were, but had always thought of them as unhealthy compulsions. That was before the love of my life revealed hers, however unwillingly.

"You must think I'm weird, or something." Susan whimpered, flouncing down on our bed, ashamed. She buried her face in her hands.

"I have to admit that it seems a little odd to have my dirty sock in your mouth, babe," I admitted. "I hope you don't want me to kiss you, at least not until after you brush your teeth or something."

Susan started bawling at that point, and I felt like a total heel. Who was I to judge what other people found arousing? It was just a shock coming from my, seemingly strait-laced girlfriend. "It's okay, Sue, baby. I'm not upset. I'm just a little taken aback is all."

"You're not mad?" Susan asked, finally lifting her face out of her hands.

"No. Not at all. I suppose it's a hell of a lot better than finding you in bed with another woman." I managed, in poor taste I might add.

"I should have told you about this thing with me a long time ago." Susan sighed, grabbing my moist sock from the floor and dropping it into the dirty clothes hamper.

"How long has this, I mean, how long have women's feet..." Awkwardly I ran out of words.

"How long have I had a foot fetish? Since I was eighteen." She paused to wait for my reaction.

"Should I ask how that even happened?" I sat next to her on the bed, wrapping an arm around her waist and kissing her on the cheek. I still felt odd with her being completely naked, but she didn't seem to mind.

"It was a party. Me and three other girls were having a sort of a get together." Susan went on, glancing my way. "We were a little hammered, so everyone just sort of fell asleep on the living room floor, you know. Wendy, this one girl I knew, ended up with her feet near my face." Susan got nervous all of a sudden and stopped.

"Go on, honey. It's alright. I want to know." I insisted.

"Well, It was early and I had woken up before everyone else. Wendy's feet were like right in my face, and I could smell them."

"Eeew." I scrunched up my nose.

"No, it wasn't like that. If you get to understand this thing with me, you'll know why." Susan looked me in the eye before continuing. "The smell, it was a mix of like apples, and grass with just the slightest hint of vinegar."

"Vinegar?" I asked, but seeing the look on Susan's face I zipped it.

"Anyway, for whatever reason, it smelled really good to me. I was looking at her toes, all pink and curled and I imagined myself licking them. I wasn't even sure where that had come from. I got so close that if I had pushed my tongue out, it would have grazed the tips."

"Then what happened?" I asked.

"That's when Sally Beard woke up and gave me shit for sniffing Wendy's toes. I tried to say that I was passed out, but she had been watching me. I was so embarrassed."

"I'm sorry." And I really was. I tried to imagine how humiliating that would have been.

"Anyway, ever since I've been infatuated with feet." Susan finished.

"And you're infatuated with my feet?" I asked, reticently.

"Oh, god yes." Susan sighed. "I just haven't had the nerve to tell you."

For a moment, I wondered what to do. But the obvious thing to do would be to cement the slight rift that I had caused by catering to her fetish. I wondered just what that might entail. The domineering lawyerly thing sort of took over, and in my best courtroom voice, I spoke out. "Why don't you take off my shoes, Susan?"

I was shocked by how quickly she had slipped off the bed to kneel at my feet. Almost reverently, she slipped each pump off, holding my foot by the arch as she did so. I had to admit to being turned on simply by watching how mesmerized my lover was.

I raised an eyebrow as she raised each shoe to her nose, inhaling whatever scent my poor feet had worked up during my hectic morning. She looked up, just to make sure I was still game, smiling to find I was. "Why don't you kiss them?"

I heard the breath catch in her throat as I made the demand. I thought I heard a slight moan escape her lips as they grazed the toe on my right foot. As though she was worshipping them, she kissed each toe in turn. All the while I could not only hear the excitement in her breathing, but her scent was now evident in the air. She must have been soaking down there.

"Lay back, baby." I insisted, deliberately pushing her over with the ball of my foot. Standing, I slipped off my pantyhose, leaving my panties on, only because I knew I was in danger of leaving tracks myself.

"I want you to play with yourself," I demanded, in my most authoritarian tone. Susan's hand flew to her center, her fingers immediately finding her clitoris beneath the generous covering of blonde curls. When I knew she was well on her way, I lifted my bare foot, and held it inches from her mouth.

I wasn't always a tease, but I had my moments. I could hear her breathing through her nose, inhaling what must have been a heady fragrance. I knew my feet sweat during the day, so it must have been absolute heaven for her.

"Please, Mari, please." She begged, her hand furiously whipping her juices into a froth between her thighs. I slowly lowered my foot until it rested against her lips. I felt rather than saw her tongue slip over the bottom of my toes. Almost instantly, Susan shattered into the most incredible orgasm I had ever seen her have.

At that moment, I felt grateful that our neighbors were a good few hundred yards away, her screams were so loud, and so labored. Anyone would have thought I was killing her.

At last, she collapsed onto the floor, from the arch her entire body had created, breathless and covered in a sheen of dew. "Oh, my god." She managed, just.

"That was... amazing." I chuckled, lifting my foot away from her mouth. Almost greedily, she pulled it back with her hand, pressing it into her lips, rubbing it over her tongue, and wetting her face with her own saliva.

I tried to imagine that the act wasn't debasing, as I watched her. I came to the conclusion that it had to be. Perhaps that was part of it. I always knew that Susan had a bit of a submissive streak, as it had played well with my own domineering personality.

We'd never carried things so far as to explore the dynamic sexually, but perhaps it was time we tried. Instantly, images of Fifty Shades came to mind, and I shuddered with the absurdity of it. No, this would be more subtle, but perhaps no less enthralling.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you." Susan gushed as we showered together, me to remove the grime of the day, and Susan to cleanse the film of erotic sweat she had exuded during her tumultuous orgasm.

"You are going to have to give me some time to absorb all this, Susan. I have to admit to enjoying myself in there as you slathered your tongue all over my foot." I said, slipping my fingers between her generous buttocks, and tracing the puckered rim of her anus.

"Your feet were so wonderful, Mari. I want to worship them forever." She gushed, kneeling on the marble tile to bathe them. The sensation was pleasant, and I found myself lifting my foot to allow her better access. Again, even covered in soap, she seemed completely unable to control the urge to take my toes into her mouth.

"That's enough now." I kiddingly pushed her away with a nudge. "Perhaps, if you're good, I'll let you play with them after I work out tomorrow."

Susan groaned with my suggestion. "I'll be good. I'll do anything you want if you let me do that."

"Good. You can fix us a nice supper. How's that?" I suggested, pushing down the lever to turn off the water. I had helped her up from the floor, when she made the most unexpected comment.

"I like being down at your feet." I watched as her face turned a few different shades of red.

"What, you mean down on all fours?" I asked, with a giggle.

"Yes, exactly that." She confessed.

Playing along, I grinned. "Well then. Down you go." No sooner had I said it, than she was on her hands and knees, crawling on the floor. This was not completely a surprise, considering everything that had happened that day. "I'm wondering how you're going to manage supper, from your knees?"

I was enjoying Susan's play on submission, and for the balance of the evening, she spent the majority on all fours, following me about the house. It was carrying our normal positions to an extreme, and I couldn't say I didn't find it both amusing and arousing.

As promised, and following a vigorous workout along the canal that runs beside our county house, I was greeted by a very eager partner, who seemed more than ready to divest me of my trainers. Once again, crawling, after having given it a rest at my bequest, earlier, she was literally salivating at my heels as I slowly peeled out of my jogging suit.

Finally, once as naked as she was, save for my shoes, I took a seat at my vanity. Susan slowly took off my socks and shoes, each item finding its way to her nose, and then to her lips. I was impressed with her devotion to each detail of her ritual, as she reveled in the essence of my feet.

I knew they must have been quite strong, as I could begin to catch the scent as she began her ministrations, licking and sucking on my toes and feet. I had never seen her so enthralled and so sexually charged as I did that morning.

I was only slightly put off when she moved her attentions north, finally settling on kissing me directly on the mouth. I could still make out the slight twang of my own foot scent as she swirled her tongue around my lips and into my mouth. Although it was hardly a turn-on for me, my acceptance of her after having performed such a debasing act, seemed to drive her close to the edge.

"You like it when my feet smell, don't you?." I mused, pushing her forcefully down on the bed. "I think you might just come by sucking on them were they just a little bit smellier, wouldn't you?" I jested.

To my surprise, Susan groaned. "Yes, My lover. I want them as dirty and stinky as possible. Will you do that for me?" She begged.

"Really? Do you want to be that humiliated? I can imagine they could be made to be extremely... aromatic. Would you still bow before me and take them into your mouth when they are so smelly, my dear sweet Susan?"

Susan groaned with the idea of my working to create such a situation with my feet. "Oh, Mari, yes, God yes!" She squirmed onto the floor, rolling over onto her back so that I might press the ball of my foot into her face. I could see that her sex was quite literally dripping from her excitement.

"If I am to be so compliant with your fetish, I have one of my own that I would like you to comply with." Why not take advantage, I thought? For years I had been trying to get Susan to shave her pubic hair. I had had mine lasered off some time ago, but Susan had resisted, her plush blonde curls seeming precious to her.

"What would that be?" She asked.

"That..." I pointed down at her downy covering. "...has to go."

Susan moaned. "Can't I just trim it up a bit?"

I frowned. "I want it bald. All of it off, and right round the back as well." I insisted, knowing how the idea of being bare down there bothered her immensely. "Otherwise, the whole foot thing, it's off." I chided.

"You're a hard taskmaster, Marion. I'll do it, but I can't say I'm going to enjoy it." Susan moped.

"Think of it as a trade. I'm willing to go all out on this foot fetish thing of yours, and I have no love of that either." I pointed out. "As soon as I see you've complied with my wishes, I'll comply with yours."

And so, it went, all of it. I had to giggle inside as I watched Susan snip away at the golden wisps of hair that covered her pouting lips. You'd think I'd asked her to shave her head or something. When she'd managed to trim as much of the fur away as she could with scissors, I offered to shave her, for safety's sake.

I have to say it was quite a turn-on for me, gliding the razor over her mons and down over her labia. Watching as the shortly cropped hair slowly yielded was most enjoyable. When it was all done, she was quick to respond.

"Christ, I look ridiculous down there!" Susan groaned, painfully.

"And I suppose you think I look ridiculous, too?" I suggested, pointing to my own bald quim.

"That's different. You want yours that way." Susan ran her fingers through her now hairless lips, grimacing with the nakedness under her fingertips.

"Tomorrow I will start working at giving you what you want, my love, as gross as that's going to be for me," I smirked. We each agreed that the sacrifices the other was making were equal in the end, so that was that. I was off to work, and Susan to her home office.

It wasn't all that difficult to find information on the net about ways to 'enhance' my own foot odor. Apparently, foot fetishes were more common than I thought. Some of the suggestions seemed a bit ludicrous, but as Susan had gone all out for me in shaving her most treasured pubes, I would do the same.

I started by not wearing socks on my feet when I ran or worked out. I had several pairs of trainers that I alternated to keep them fresh, and that stopped, settling on a pair of rubberized runners that I normally used only in the rain. My feet invariably sweated like mad in those.

Three or four days later they were getting so ripe that I had to keep them in the shed. I wondered what sort of weird biology was setting up shop on my feet, because they honestly began to smell all the time.

I had always prided myself on being clean and fresh, but it was to the point that I was embarrassed to slip my foot out of my pumps at work. It was normally nothing to ease my foot in and out of my heels as I was talking on the phone. Now, as soon as I did, I began to smell the telltale odor wafting up from under my desk.

Susan was in her glory. She said my feet had finally begun to smell like real feet and not the pampered peds that I had always had. Our lovemaking was better than ever, Susan with her hairless muff and me with feet I was quite honestly embarrassed to get into bed with.

"These babies are getting so stinky! I doubt you'll ever get them back to the way they were." Susan spouted one day, after spending the better part of an hour worshipping my malodorous toes.

"I'm starting to get worried that it might cause a problem at work. I noticed one of the other attorneys making a sour face as he was walking with me. I worry that I might be growing so used to the smell that I'm unaware when it's making itself known." I admitted, ruefully. "Maybe it's time I stopped for a while. Just to let things calm down a bit down there."

"You stop, I stop." Susan threatened. "Say goodbye to this baby smooth pussy you've grown so accustomed to."

"Really? I mean my feet are becoming a problem. No one ever needs to know about your hairlessness." I reasoned.

"I know. Please don't stop. They are getting so incredibly stinky now. It's better than I ever imagined it being, Mari." Susan begged.

"No, I'm sorry. I have to try to get things back to normal down there, babe. After I get control of it, we can try and find a happy place where they are smelly enough for you without causing people to talk in my office."

She reluctantly agreed, realizing that my comfort at work was more important than her need for 'stinky pinkies,' as she called them. Susan even agreed not to let her hair grow back, I think more because it itched so badly when it started to grow out.

So, I began to get back to my usual routine, discarding all the shoes that I had seemingly ruined with my feet. That was a painful and expensive sacrifice, but one I had to make.

Unfortunately, at least for me, even with the vigilant hygiene and new shoes, the foot odor just refused to go away. Was Susan right? I started to think I was going to have smelly feet forever.

The problem certainly grew less severe, and the issue with my foot odor at the firm was no longer a problem. I was, however, constantly reminded each time I would remove my shoes that I was a girl with smelly feet.