tagFetishThe Fetish Challenge

The Fetish Challenge


Anyone who knows me knows about my love for the female foot. I can tell you when my foot fetish developed (during puberty) but not why. I can tell you about the many sub fetishes that fall under the broader term “foot-fetish” but I can’t tell you how my sub fetishes developed. I can even tell you about the many women who have loved me and my fetish over the years but there is only one, one woman of many, who satisfied all of my fetish fantasies at one time.

Joyce and I dated a long time ago, and she was kind of young for me at the time. I always dated older women because they accepted and loved my foot fetish and my desire to massage, kiss, lick and play with their feet. At the time Joyce and I started dating, I was 24 and she was 19. She was a redheaded Puerto Rican with a slim build and a shaved pussy. She was sexually liberated for her age, wanting to try anything new and different. She and I played around with swinging, girl-girl sex, pictures and movie making, bondage and discipline and anything else she could think of. She loved anal sex as much or more than regular sex and loved giving head. She loved the way I would pay attention to her feet and always kept her tootsies looking good, paying for pedicures weekly. (I would have done that myself, however the smell of nail polish makes me nauseous.) She was the first person I ever told all of my fetish desires and fantasies to. Little did I know, she would go out of her way to make them all come true.

Joyce and I were lying in bed after a round of whatever kinky thing we had tried that night when she asked me that fateful question, “Is there anything YOU want to do, or do you have ANY fantasies that you would like to fulfill?” I guess she felt guilty because our entire sexual relationship to that point had been composed of us fulfilling her fantasies. I hesitated a little and she knew then that there must be something I wanted to try. She put the pressure on, saying, “Come on John, tell me what it is! I want to make you happy. I want to be your fantasy for a night, or a weekend, or for however long it takes! I can do ANYTHING you want me too!”

“Joyce, I have never told anyone the things I am going to tell you right now. I have always been embarrassed by these particular desires, always wondering if I was ‘normal’ and ‘sane’ because of them. Please don’t think worse of me for them and if they freak you out, just let me know and we’ll forget the whole thing, ok?”

The look in her eye made me wonder if I had crossed some imaginary line in our relationship but I plodded on, wanting, no needing to confess these desires to someone, anyone. Her eyes never left mine and her lips mouthed the words, “Go on…”

“I have always wanted a lady to pee on me, not that I want to drink her pee, well maybe taste it a little, while she stands over me. And I have always wanted to lick a girls feet clean after she’s been barefoot all day and her feet are dirty and finally, I would love to be made to a woman’s shoes off after she had been in them all day and have her rub her socks on my face and chest. I don’t know why, but the humiliation of these situations make me turgid, makes me so excited! I want to be humiliated a little, not like public stuff or anything, just play between lovers kind of stuff, if you know what I mean.”

She didn’t say anything for a long time, and never took her eyes off of mine while I nervously told her my desires. She smiled a little and said, “I’ll see what I can do,” turned over and went to sleep. I was mad at myself, figuring that she was repulsed and turned off by my desires and she probably didn’t want anything to do with me. I don’t think I slept that night, or if I did, it couldn’t have been much. I kept watching her sleeping form, wishing that I had never confessed my fetishes to her. I was in so much pain by the time I left for work, I knew I would not be very productive but didn’t want to stay home either, for obvious reasons.

That was the first day Joyce didn’t call me at work, adding to my fears. At lunch time, I called the apartment but got no answer. I was starting to really worry now, thinking the worst and expecting it, too. I drove home with a pit in my stomach, vowing to never bring up my desires to anyone, ever again. I pulled into the parking lot of our building and sat there, watching for signs of activity, wanting to know whether or not Joyce would be there before entering. After a few minutes and not seeing any activity, I got out of the car with a sigh, went to the apartment and opened the door. Upon opening the door, I was hit by a wave of heat that would have knocked a horse down.

“Great!” I exclaimed, thinking the A/C was on the fritz and forgetting Joyce and my current problems. On in I went, dropping my lunch bag on the table and reaching for the cordless phone while loosening my tie. Turning around while on hold with the apartment complex’s answering service, I glanced down the hall and into our bedroom. I saw something I would never forget. Joyce sat on my dressing chair, legs crossed, wearing a knit cotton tank top, short athletic shorts, Nike sneakers and white socks, pulled high on the calf. She looked at me and smiled, then crooked her finger, beckoning me to come closer. I put the phone back in it’s cradle and walked down the hall toward her.

“Turn the A/C on and come here, John,” she said. The thermostat read 82 degrees in the hallway and Joyce watched me with a grin while I did what she asked. “Take off your clothes and do exactly as I say, ok?”

“Sure,” I agreed, relieved that she was actually still here and amazed that she wanted to have sex. I stood naked in front of her, my dick growing in length and girth as she stared at it, wondering what was next. Did she want to blow me like she had done in the past? Did she want to jack me off on her tits? Neither would explain why the heat was on and on so high. It all came together for me when she raised a leg and tapped my nut sack with the tip of her tennis shoe.

“It is so hot in here, my feet are so hot and sweaty. I don’t like it when my feet are sweaty John, you know that don’t you?”

“Yes,” I agreed, knowing better to disagree with her. (Truth was, she hated having cold toes and loved for me to warm hers whenever they got cold.)

“Why don’t you get on your knees and thank me for getting my feet all hot and sweaty? I did it for you anyway so I think you should thank me for what I did, don’t you?” she asked, as her toes kept a menacing rhythm tapping on my balls.

“Yes,” I said, as I went to my knees and rested my head on her legs. This allowed me to look up at her as I thanked her over and over again for getting her feet hot for me. I knew more and better things had to come.

The place started to cool off a little as the A/C tried to catch up with all the pent up heat in the little apartment. Joyce looked lovingly down at me and smiled while I thanked her. She placed one shoe-clad foot upon my chest and pushed me down, hard, to the ground. I got even more excited at this point, knowing that she was working on making at least one fantasy come true for me. She growled at me, “I don’t think you really mean it! Why don’t you show some true appreciation by kissing my feet for me?”

I immediately kissed the top of her tennis shoe, noticing every detail on her socks and shoes as I did. I noticed her faded shoestrings and the famous Nike swirl, hers was red. I noticed her socks and how they fit over her slim ankles like a second skin. I noticed the dirt on her shoes, making the white leather dark gray in some places, a lighter gray in others. I noticed most of all the way she moved her shoes around for me, allowing me access to every inch of her sneakers. I kissed the tops, the bottoms, the sides and the tongue with abandon. I’ve never been into shoes as a sub-fetish, but was getting into this knowing and hoping that she had more in store for me.

“Take off my shoes, John. I mean, I can’t feel your kisses on my shoes, for crying out loud. Take off my shoes and kiss my feet for me!”

I took her left shoe and untied the string holding it to her foot. I loosened the string and pulled the tongue out some. Joyce hooked her foot over my shoulder and pulled. Her shoe came off and rolled down my back as she quickly put her sock clad foot on my face and pressed hard. I pressed back against her foot, wanting to keep it right where it was. She put her toes over my nose and my mouth was on the little pad right below her toes. I could not think or react in anyway once the first inhalation reached my brain. Her feet never stank and even now, after being encased in her shoes in the heat for who knows how long, all I got was a slightly musky odor mixed with the leather smell of her shoes. She rubbed her moist, sweaty foot up and down my face and over and over again I breathed deep of her foot scent. I was in heaven!

“Lie on your back now, let me massage my feet with your face,” she told me.

I lay on my back as commanded and watched her as she raised her leg, untied her right shoe and pulled her foot out. She placed that foot down upon my face and rubbed it up and down, like she had the left one. Once again, the odor of her sock-encased foot hit my brain and I got another rush. (I’ve heard it stated that the rush comes from pheromones, but all I know is it feels like laughing gas or something.) Over and over again her feet ran their course up and down my face. I was in heaven, my cock straining and throbbing from the immense pleasure she was giving me. She moaned occasionally, either from the massage my face was giving her by default or from the power she held over me at that time. I barely moved the entire time, wanting to enjoy all I could of her lovely size 7’s and their scent.

Joyce pulled her feet away from my face and looked down at me, smiling all the while. She put her fingers in the top part of her sock on her left foot and pulled it down and off. As she wriggled her toes, I noticed the sole of her foot was dirty. Somehow, she had gotten her foot dirty before placing it in her sock and shoe. She grinned all the harder as she held her foot down to my face, keeping it inches away and just out of reach. While holding her left foot there for me to stare at, she pulled her right sock off and let that foot join the other, just above my face. Both feet were dirty and the implication of what was about to happen set it. I knew right then and there that Joyce was special and that her love for me and my fetishes made me want her so bad.

I stretched my neck as far as I could, wanting to taste her toes and soles. She pulled her feet back even further and said, “My feet got dirty this morning and they need cleaning. Can you help me John?”

“Unhh huh,” I muttered as I stretched again, trying to get those feet closer to me and my tongue.

“Are you sure you can clean them for me? Maybe we should get a towel or something…” she teased. That’s when I lost it and grabbed her right foot and licked it from heel to toe. There was no way I was going to let this opportunity pass me by! She lied back in the dressing chair and let me have my way with her foot while resting her other foot on my cheek. The dirt on her feet wasn’t of the muddy barefoot variety, rather it was ground in dirt, like she had walked barefoot for a while before putting on her socks and shoes. There was no grit or anything, just a slightly acidic taste that could have been from her foot sweat or the light layer of dirt I was busy cleaning off for her. Joyce was moving her feet for me, placing first this toe, then that one, then this heel, then that pad and arch. How long we stayed like that I’ll never know, but I do know that when she pulled her feet away from me, they were as clean as they could be without actually using soap and water. I looked at Joyce with pure lust in my eyes, wanting to consummate this fantasy with a good lovemaking session, a way to show my appreciation.

“John, I’m so disappointed,” she said.

I almost panicked, thinking that she didn’t like the experience and this would be the last time I would ever live this fantasy.

“You promised to clean my feet for me and they aren’t clean!”

“But dear, yes they are, well they are as good as I could make them. Maybe I could lick them some more for you?”

“No John, I don’t think so. I don’t think you can get them clean without some help. Come with me,” she said, then stood up and made her way to the bathroom.

“First, I must punish you for the poor job you did. You agree you should be punished, right?”

“Well, yeah, ok, I guess,” I stammered, not knowing what was next and definitely knowing I didn’t like pain.

“Get in the bathtub on your knees and kneel before me,” she said. I did. “Good, now, I need to pee, and your punishment is to take my pee in your face. Ok?”

I agreed as she stood up and over me, using the side of the tub as a stool to stand on. She held open her lips and I looked directly into her vagina and deep inside her. I gazed at her legs and looked down at her feet, which were gripping the tub side so hard her toes turned white. While I was looking at her feet, the first stream of urine hit me square in the face and ran down my chin and on to my chest. She stopped her pee stream long enough to look at me to see if this was all right. Trust me, it was more than all right, it was heaven! This is what I longed for so long. She didn’t say a word, just looked at me, saw my ecstatic look and strained her muscles a little and the pee started coming. She peed in my face and down my body and I loved every minute of it, enjoying her nectar as it traced fingers of fire down my body. Her pee puddled in the bottom of the tub and too soon it was over. She took my head forcefully in both hands while stepping into the tub and brought my face to her twat. I stuck out my tongue, knowing what was expected of me and licked her clean. She shuddered a little and pulled me away from her puss, bent down and kissed me full on the lips.

“Now, maybe you can clean my feet properly,” she stated, standing up and holding her left leg up so I could inspect the sole of her foot. Her pee dripped off of her foot, running down from her heel to her toes and off into the tub. I couldn’t believe what she was asking of me. Did she really want me to lick her pee from her foot? Joyce didn’t leave time or room for debate. She leaned back against the rear wall of the tub and put her foot square on my mouth. I licked. She moaned. She placed that foot back into the tub, back into her pee puddle and placed her other foot within reach. I didn’t have to be told or forced this time, taking her foot in my hand and licking it with gusto. Then she switched legs again.

We went on like this for some time and about halfway through our little pee session, I noticed that Joyce was playing with herself. Once she orgasmed, she turned the shower on, pulled me to my feet and got on her knees. As the hot shower washed down both of our bodies, Joyce sucked me off, bringing me to an orgasm that made my knees buckle and spots appear before my eyes. This was truly a dream come true for me.

Later, as we lie in bed side by side, I found out all the preparation that she had went through to make this day a reality. She had gone to the grocery store in the morning, wandering up and down the aisles barefoot, getting a real good basecoat on her soles. She spent the rest of the day barefoot and only put her socks and shoes on an hour or so before I was due home. Once she was dressed, she turned up the heat, and sat real still as to not disturb the dirt or have her socks remove it by friction. She sipped ice tea to keep cool and to make sure her bladder was full. She had put a lot of thought into fulfilling my fantasy and the effort she made was well received! We dated for quite awhile, with her fulfilling this fantasy for me many different ways on many different occasions, but I will always remember our first time.

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