A Summer in Paradise
My fascination with the female foot began when I was about eighteen years old and would continue to foreshadow my future relationships well into the present. From feisty Latinas in sandals during the summer, to my own dark-skinned black women in dainty stilettos, I was fortunate enough to have a fair share of variety in college. But nothing else compared to the most forbidden fruit of all, my absolute favorite: white women's feet.
There was something about the scent as they frolicked in flip-flops all semester and sunbathed barefoot at the beach in spring, fastening bracelets around their ankles and flipping on their stomach so that I could see their perfectly formed soles.
For entertainment I watched as these women wiggled their delectable little toes and lusted after every individual wrinkle in their white, luscious soles. My infatuation with these white women's feet knew no bounds, as I fucked dozens of them over the course of only a few years and received more foot jobs than I ever could have hoped for when I was eighteen.
Each and every single one of them was just another boost to my already overinflated ego as an African American man who had embraced his fetishization at the hands of a fearful society that framed him as a kind of mindless barnyard animal that could only fuck, and had indulged in the one benefit afforded to him by the countless white women for the picking.
I must have lost count after reaching triple digits, but each one was just another conquest whose used panties I procured as proof of my success and as a masturbatory aid for when I needed a little sensory stimulation in the form of sniffing. I even did it with their flip-flops and sandals after having seduced them into giving me foot jobs.