His Foot Goddessbystryker53©
For as long as he could remember Max had wanted to be near female feet. There wasn't a particular reason for it. He wasn't abused by his mother or anything. In fact, if he even tried to touch her feet he was forbidden. The same thing happened with any of her friends or his other female family members. Most boys would take the hint, but not Max. Each rejection only made his desire for feet grow stronger.
As time went on and he entered high school and his looks improved. He could grow hair on his face. His long side burns drew the attention of plenty young women. Max found himself having the pick of the litter when it came to dating. All these women yet not one appreciated his passion for feet. Many of them knew each other and before long Max was known as the HS foot pervert. So much for the dating thing. No one wanted to be seen with him anymore.
Snickers and sneers and haunted laughter followed him until he graduated. Then at 18 he decided to join the military. He learned of hookers and the likes. To think that women would actually have sex with him for only some money? How interesting he thought. Max was single and lived on base in the barracks. He ate in the chow hall, and they bought his clothes. He got paid every two weeks with nothing much to spend it on. So he decided to investigate this hooker option.
A buddy told him of a hot line where hookers put add on line. Max used his computer to find them in the local paper. He bought a paper and searched for a lady he thought might be able to feed his foot passion. It was ugly at first. He'd selected and called a woman who said they could meet. When he got to the restaurant and bought her an expensive meal she got around to asking him what he was into. Max whispered "feet and stuff," to which the woman laughed and sneered at him. Max was brought back to high school again. He got embarrassed and stood to leave. He could still hear her laughter as she shouted, "A foot freak, what a looser," behind him.
That was it for Max. Not only could he not find a woman who understood his foot fetish, he couldn't even buy one. He was crushed. Alone in his room he'd dream of such woman and masturbate. At least that way, he would be satisfied and not laughed at. It was frustrating. Once he went to a strip club with some buddies. They were all hooting and hollering over the half-naked women on the stage. One girl came out bare footed. Max whispered to his buddy that she had cute feet. The guy turned to stare at Max like he just broke wind. Then he yelled to the other guys, "Hey Max likes her feet, what a freak." The men laughed long enough to fluster Max, and then continued tossing dollar bills toward the girl. That was the last time Max mentioned his foot fetish in public, to anyone!
About a year later, Max took a part time job driving cabs. He'd just about learned all the roads in town. It's not that he needed the money. Max was bored. After work he had no friends. He was not happy drinking in the base bar. His last roommate got shipped out. He heard the money was easy to make. He only worked from 9pm until 3am the bar shuffle so why not? It occupied his time and put easy cash in his pockets. Besides, with all the army guys spending cash in the local bars, there were plenty trips back to the base, or to some gold digging girl's house. Either way, he got good tips.
One night he got sent to an alley downtown. A door in a dark wall opened and out stepped a woman dressed to the nines. She had long blonde hair. Her face was made up. She had ample breasts and a knock out figure. Black silk stockings with red spiked heels that sparkled when she walked climbed in the back door. She gave an address which Max noted and the car drove forward.
Silence was the order of the day. Every once in a while Max peered in the rearview mirror only to see the side of her face as she stared out the window. He thought she must own the place he'd gotten her from. She had jewels and gold on her neck and arms. She wasn't the ordinary west pacific widow he was used to. As he drove up to her address, his mouth dropped open. It was a large two story home. The fare was nearly 23 bucks. She threw a fifty over the seat and got out not saying anything. Max shoved the bill in his pocket and backed down the driveway. He never expected the large tip, yet he offered her no change.
Two nights later the dispatcher blared on the radio.
"You got a special Max, be on time."
The address was the same alley he'd picked up the classy blonde before. He was there the same time as last. Then that same dark unmarked door opened and she stepped out. She was still dressed up only this time in total black leather. Her long leather boots were knee high and as shiny as a new coin. She was dripping in pearls and gold around her neck. Even both wrists could fetch thousands. As she got in the back, again, not a word was spoken. Max remembered where she lived and drove in that direction. She was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen. An angel fallen from above, he thought as the car rolled on. As he pulled to her front door, she tossed another crisp fifty over the seat to him. He started to tell her the actual price, but only heard the door slam in his face. She was mysterious and sexy at the same time. Without even admitting it to himself, Max knew, at her word, he'd surrender to her. If only she'd ever speak to him.
During the next two months Max was at the same pick up point collecting the tall blonde. It had become nearly a two or three time a week affair. Always the same destination, always in silence they drove. Oh Max had so many thoughts in his head about her. She seemed not to know he was even alive. In all the times he drove her, he'd never seen her wear the same clothes twice. She must really be loaded, he thought. She was always beautiful. She never had a hair out of place. Sometimes it was worn up on her head. Max loved it better when she'd wear her hair down over her shoulders. It was to him, her crowning glory. When the street lights shone through the back window, her lovely blonde hair would appear to take on a special glow. Max would just about give anything to touch it.
Once as he'd snuck a peek at her in his mirror he caught her eyes. The moment he knew she too was looking at him he began to sweat. His hands jerked the wheel and the car swerved to the left. He gained control quickly enough. After the car was safe, he almost crashed it again when he heard her say,
"Careful Maxwell, I used to think you quite the good cabbie."
Her voice, even in warning, was like that of an angel. Soft, sweet yet a tone full of intention. Max felt his heart skip a beat at the sound of it. He broke out in a sweat and gasped for breath.
"Are you alright Maxwell? Do you need medical assistance or something?" she asked softly.
"Oh no Ma'am," he stuttered, "I'm fine Ma'am. I was just, I mean, you never, well I mean Ma'am, ah, hmm..." He could not put a sentence together to save his life.
Smiling softly now, the lady said, "Its ok Maxwell. I think I understand. Without wishing to sound uppity, you are a man, and I'm beautiful. I astounded you by speaking to you so abruptly, I know."
Max began to settle down. She spoke so softly and spoke the truth. It was more than what she said, but how it sounded to him. And the way she said his name, Maxwell. It felt like she was his equal instead of his boss or something.
He cleared his throat and agreed saying, "Yes Ma'am you truly are."
"I am what Maxwell, abrupt or beautiful?" she mused.
Flustered Max spurted, "No Ma'am you're not. I mean yes Ma'am you are. Oh I mean you are beautiful Ma'am not abrupt I meant."
"Shh, I know just what you mean Maxwell. I have been called both from time to time. I'm somewhat of an enigma that way." She smiled in his mirror. Max melted into his seat. She continued, "Have you ever wondered why it's always you who picks me up at night Maxwell?"
"No Ma'am, I mean I'm the lucky one of the bunch to do so Ma'am."
"No Maxwell, luck had nothing to do with it. I've had other drivers from your outfit. Most of them don't get a block before they leer and grin and try to run their lame lines on me. As if I'm some piece of flesh for their trophy case or something. Foul mouthed no class beasts. The night you first drove me was the night I called your dispatcher. I warned that if one more, filthy mouthed, driver came for me, my friend the mayor would be calling his company. That was our first night together Maxwell."
Max was confused. He knew nothing of this before. He thought how could anyone dare be rude to this heavenly creature? He apologized to her for the idiots.
"No need to apologize Maxwell," she soothed, "I've always been able to take care of myself. Besides, you've been the perfect gentleman, so young and neat and clean looking."
"I'm twenty two Ma'am" Max said in defense of his age.
"Outstanding Maxwell, you are indeed grown. Your only problem is you keep addressing me as if I were your grandmother. Tisk Tisk, all this Ma'am business. You make me feel so old. I've not passed 30 yet Maxwell, so how about you take to addressing me as Trudi instead of Ma'am? Would that be alright with you?"
This was a night to remember. For months they'd rode in silence. Max's only contact with her had been in his masturbating fantasies. Now not only was she speaking like they were old friends, she'd offered her name for his use.
"Yes, Miss Trudi, thank you Ma'am, err I mean Miss Trudi."
She sighed and warmly said, "Then it's settled, pleased to know you Maxwell."
"Very pleased to know you too Miss Trudi."
"So Maxwell, are you gay?" Trudi shot out of the blue.
"Shit no, ah I mean, that is, no way Ma'am, or ah, Miss Trudi. I don't even think about that stuff. I mean some of the guys are and that's cool for them, but no way, not me Miss Trudi."
"So very defensive Maxwell. I wasn't belittling your manhood, rather only trying to figure out what makes you different from the others who drove me."
"I can't speak for them Miss, I only figured anyone who dresses and looks as fine as you do and who lives in such a large house has earned her respect Miss. I sure don't earn lots of money. However, you always treated me nice. You must surely know it doesn't cost fifty bucks to get to your home. Yet you always give me the same. I'm not a money worshipper but I sure would never disrespect my way out of it either Miss Trudi."
"Well-spoken Maxwell. I'm sure your girlfriend is as proud of you as I am becoming."
"Humph, that would be the day Miss Trudi. I've never been a pick em up easy sort of guy I guess."
"Why Maxwell, I would have thought you to have a completely full little black book in your pocket, and well used at that."
"Yeah, right," he sighed sadly.
"Oh poor poor Maxwell, straight, but not quite the ladies' man ehy?"
This new found friendship had taken a rather strange twist all of a sudden. All this time she'd never paid him any attention, and now she was standing on hallowed ground. Now she was delving into his relationships with women, or lack thereof. Yet somehow Max felt it no threat. Her directness was buffered by her softness in speech. It was as if they'd known each other for years instead of months. She wasn't attacking him. He felt he could trust her and share his entire life with her. There was still a remembrance of the pain and shame he'd felt when discussing his desires for women's feet. He wouldn't go there. Yet she was on the verge of finding out, if she kept on with her questions.
"What's troubling you Maxwell, why the long face?" she asked innocently.
It was that obvious, he thought to himself. Then he figured, what the Hell? He might as well spill it. She could do little more than those he'd told before, laugh, ridicule and dismiss him. So he'd lose her fare and the tips? Too bad, if she really wanted to know, he'd take a chance and spill the beans.
"Miss Trudi," he began, "this is rather personal and I hope it won't spoil our new relationship none. You see, I'm not like most men I guess. When it comes to women, I fall to pieces. I mean all my equipment works and such, but just plain intercourse does nothing for me. No, I'm not gay or nothing. The thing is Miss; I can look at naked pictures all day long and not get excited. However, just one glimpse of a pair of soft sexy female feet and I'm like a kid in a candy store. I know, I know, I'm weird, I'm a freak! Believe me Miss Trudi; I've heard that song before, many times. Actually, that's why I joined the service. To get away from hearing it like I did all through high school. I'm from a small town and word spreads like wild fire. Also I work nights now to get off the base some. I told a few buddies once in a strip club and now I'm known as the foot freak or called old hoof and mouth boy." Tears began to stream down his cheeks as he continued. "Now I'll probably lose the only highlight of this job, driving you home. It's alright Miss Trudi, I know you'll be calling your mayor friend and have me fired for being a freak, but remember, you asked."
Trudi wasn't laughing at him at all. In fact she was enthralled at his admittance and at the deep feelings he shared with her. She wasn't quite expecting this. She figured this would be the point where he expounded his pro male ability to bed any woman in sight. She found a nurturing place and smiled softly toward him and said, "It's alright Maxwell. There is nothing at all wrong with a man admiring a woman's feet. Indeed it should be practiced by more men. Women are not pawns in the chess game of sex. To be appreciated so is the dream of many Maxwell. You just haven't found the right ones yet. It is grand you and I met though. I think I'd like to explore more of your desires, and I know several others who would find it quite interesting as well. That is if you are interested."
Max could not believe his ears. What she serious? IF he was interested? It's been his wildest wet dreams to imagine what her feet would be like to lick and sniff. She had friends who liked a man at their feet? The Holy Grail had been found. No wanting to spoil the mood, he said only, "Yes Ma'am very much so."
As the cab pulled into her driveway Trudi handed him her card. "Tomorrow's Saturday, call me after 1pm Maxwell, we'll talk more about your most interesting fetish."
She got out and stood by his window. He opened it and said, "Yes Miss Trudi and thank you for understanding Ma'am." She handed him a crisp fifty, turned and went inside. He sat there until he tasted his dry mouth which hung open.
1pm sharp Trudi answered his call. Max was surprised when she greeting him so expectantly. "Hello Maxwell, I knew you'd call," she smiled into the phone.
"Yes Miss Trudi I hope you are well today," he replied.
"I am thank you Maxwell. I believe in getting right to the point. I've been thinking about our little talk last night. You seem to have revealed your passion for women's feet. "
Max gulped at her directness yet listened intently.
"I think I can help you get to the embryo of your desires. In doing so thus you'll gain a better understanding of it, thereby learn to control and enjoy it better. Don't interrupt me Maxwell as I've no time to repeat myself. I merely wish to enlighten you as I find you worthy of such educating."
"Firstly, you had a nurturing relationship with your mother. Most foot people do as mothers usually, but not always, love and are warm and kind to their offspring. To show you innocent appreciation you grew closer to her at her most available body part, her feet. You could crawl to them, sit and lay down near them, and at times you developed a desire to kiss and caress them. At such a young age, it was not a sexual approach you displayed. Rather a return of your love and devotion to her. Of course, as in most cases, shortly after your first physical encounter with her feet, she rejected your advances. Perhaps out of disgust. Perhaps out of guilt, who knows? The point is Maxwell, when she spurned your attentions at her feet it created such confusion in your brain that you felt you must have touched wrong. So you tried another approach to her feet and again felt rejection. Most likely at this point you stopped trying to touch her feet again. However the desire to do just that grew with intensity deep inside you. To satisfy you, each time you viewed her feet your eyes remained glued to them. She may or may not have noticed, that mattered little to you. All you thought was if you gazed at them hard enough, she'd have to know you appreciated her motherly charms. After a while you may have thought of little else but her feet. Not to say you had sexual intentions with your mother, rather it was through her feet you hoped to find her nurturing aspect. Then, the more you did not gain it from her, the more you craved it. As you matured the transference of the lack of such nurturing developed into a search for it at the feet of any female you encountered. A classmate, a teacher, the female crossing guard, any woman would do. You likely withheld you craving to actual attempts at being physical with any of these women, yet alone, in your bed, they were foremost in your mind. They would tempt and tease you with their treasured feet. You would succumb and try in vain to gain access to them, yet your attempts would always fail and you'd fall short of their approval. I'd wager a bet Maxwell that at this point you'd either awake to a wet dream or be pounding yourself to orgasm.
Do not feel awkward over this passion for female feet however. You are not quite the freak your non foot loving associates have banned you. To be sure almost all people find some part of somebody's body erotic. We all have out sexual, and even more intense, sensual aspects Maxwell. The fact that you have yet to find a proper way to satisfy you in this respect is unfortunate. It is not however, impossible in the least. To be sure, I for one know exactly how to lead you to foot nirvana Maxwell. It would require dedicated attention to detail to achieve though. The end would certainly justify the means. You simply require a refocusing of you desires, a new attention to detail as it were. I, my new friend, just happen to be in a position to aid you in this endeavor. The journey will test the very core of your being. You'll be subjected to strange and difficult situations, many of which I'm sure you've never considered before. Yet I assure you if you display half the dedication you carry towards attaining satisfaction at the feet of a woman as you expressed to me, it will all prove to be worth it Maxwell.
I know I've talked a lot, and your lack of intrusion to my words prove to us both your interest. I know the military allows you to take 30 days a year off. If you wish to embark on the journey I've described, put in for your vacation starting the first of next month. I am leaving for Europe tomorrow and shall return here then. I'll expect you, bag and baggage on my front door step at 9am sharp in two weeks Maxwell. You have until then to decide if you're actually worth my time or not. Now I must adieu."
The phone line went dead. Max sat with the receiver still glued to his ear. She'd just spent a quarter hour dancing through his mind. It both impressed and intrigued him. It was as if she knew exactly what he'd hidden deep in his soul forever. He did not grow stiff in his groin area as she revealed him, however he could not dismiss the passionate overwhelming feeling she'd engulfed his senses in. One thing Max was sure of though was the fact that on Monday he'd be first in line at the personnel office requesting his vacation papers.
On the appointed date and time Max rang the doorbell of Miss Trudi's home. The large door opened and he stepped in. Before he could take in his surroundings, a hand from behind him covered his face with a chloroform hanky. When he awoke Max was sitting in a straight back chair. His wrists were bound with rope behind the chair. He tried standing but found his ankles held taught to a spreader bar. A door to his left rear opened at which time a chill covered him. It was then the fog in his head cleared and Max noticed he was completely naked.