Discovering My Foot Fetish Pt 01

This story is based on true events and is deeply personal. I am writing it to fill a gap in the representation of female foot fetishists. This will be a multi-part story. I really hope you enjoy it.

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Part 1

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Okay, this is really embarrassing. I can't believe I'm telling you this. I just need to let it out somewhere, but you can't tell anyone, okay? Okay. Deep breath. Phew. 1...2...3...

My, my name is Michella... and I have a foot fetish.

There. I said it.

I know, I know. Don't judge me. I get it, believe me I do. The quintessential foot fetishest is a creepy older man, not a young woman like me. The ones you hear about in the newspapers who have been caught secretly taking photos of women's feet on the train and jacking off. I'm ashamed enough already. I'd change it if I could but I just can't - I love feet.

It's hard to have a foot fetish and be a woman you know. We are the lowest of the low. Considered by most as depraved perverts, skulking around in trenchcoats or something. I want to share my story so maybe you can understand it a little bit more. I'm not sure if I even really understand it. It's disgusting; I'm disgusting. But here we go.

It all started when I was 18. My mental health was in the gutter, and I was insecure and desperately in need of validation. My most recent ex-boyfriend had rejected me, crudely telling me to find someone else to fuck. One fateful night loneliness set in and 2am rolled around. I sent a cheeky "You up?" text to the bass player from a local band. We had never met in person before, but had been passed each other's numbers some time before by a mutual friend. He was in my flat by 3am.

His name was Miles and he arrived with a bottle of cheap vodka. We lay entwined on my tiny couch watching London go by through the sliding glass doors leading onto my balcony. The time passed in silence, occasionally perforated by that awkward small talk that happens when strangers are bathed in tension and expectation. It's a familiar dance.

Miles tipped his head back and allowed the harsh vodka to slide down his throat. He gestured the bottle towards me by way of invitation, I took a sip and grimaced. Miles was a skinny guy in his early twenties, with sinewy strong arms, peppered with sketchy tattoos. Messy dirty blond hair and bright blue eyes, constantly searching. He was quietly frantic, subdued in his chaos. We lay like bookends, facing each other, my feet nestled in his clothed lap as we chain smoked rolled up cigarettes. His eyes met mine as he asked if he could touch my feet as we talked. I accepted.

He slowly peeled off my neon pink cotton ankle socks and tossed them aside. Then began a process unlike anything else I had experienced before. Miles gently and carefully inspected every millimeter of my feet, running his dancing fingers over my arches, wrapping his hands around my ankles and gently caressing them. As he slid his fingers in between my toes my breath caught in my throat. I had never felt so completely and fully adored. Appreciated just as myself. I was being worshiped.

We continued to smoke, drink and chat into the depth of the night, whilst he continued his exploration. His distracted eyes didn't reach mine again, absorbed in his work. Miles openly admired my feet, commenting on how petite they are. Tiny feet with tiny toes. He massaged them with obvious pleasure and I was entranced.

Somehow or another Miles grew impatient with his task and craved more. In a flash of boldness his body folded over mine and I was greeted by his cracked, alcohol scented lips. Kissing moved quickly after hours of tension. We hastened to stand, our lips never parting and we moved towards the bed, eagerly pawing at each other's writhing bodies.

I desperately sought out his erection with my hand, hoping to press against his firmness. Before I managed to feel anything Miles roughly turned me around and pushed me into my bed. Startled, my outstretched hands broke my fall. I paused there, my feet on the floor, my body curved over the foot of the bed, my arms supporting my upper body. Relatively inexperienced, and having only had a few sexual playmates to date, I'd yet to experience this type of roughness.

Miles stripped me of my clothing and pushed me further forwards. My knees joining my hands on the bed, my face resting against the mattress. A few hard warning spanks were delivered to my waiting bottom as he looked over my body. He knelt on the floor behind me and gripped my hips with his hands. He buried his face in my smooth pussy and took a deep sniff of my slick entrance. I was disgusted by the act, yet whimpered in anticipation. In a heartbeat his quick tongue was darting over my clit.

He ate me like he was starving. Pausing only occasionally to watch me squirm as he plunged two fingers deep inside my needy cunt. He made no secret of his enjoyment and voyeurism, verbally encouraging my pleasure. I remained on all fours, naked, vulnerable and at his complete command as he mauled me. Bringing me to the bring of orgasm with his tongue, then pausing to fuck me with his fingers until he felt my pussy walls clench in spasm around them. Rinse and repeat.

The fingers smoothly gliding in and out of my pussy were now making my legs buckle. A pool of wetness had dripped onto the bed beneath me. I was so close. I didn't know the words for it at the time, but Miles was edging me. Repeatedly allowing me to almost taste my orgasm before he took it away again. The message was clear - my body was his tonight. As Miles soothingly called me a "good slut" I heard noises coming out of my mouth I didn't even know I was capable of making.

His fingers were gone as suddenly as they arrived, leaving my body yearning for his tongue that I knew would be coming next. Instead, a warmth met my arsehole and gave me goosebumps. Every neuron in my brain was sparking at this new sensation. I'd never felt anything like this. Miles was rimming me, his hot wet tongue slowly traveling over my hole as expertly as it had dominated my pussy.

My only previous experience of anal play was the rough, upright fucking my ex-boyfriend would use to finish himself off. Commenting on how well I took it as he pounded my tiny body into the back of his sofa. This was different. It felt filthier to me, yet sensual and loving. I was surprised by how instead of something to get though it was pure, unadulterated pleasure. I felt disconnected from reality, like I was swimming through a pool of warm treacle. I've chased that feeling again since but the element of surprise was apparently a key component.

Miles gripped my thighs with his hands, his knuckles taut as his fingers dug into my flesh. Darting his tongue in and out of my unprepared arsehole. Fucking me. Preparing me. My pussy - although neglected - dripped with potential. The attention my new found hot button was receiving was driving me to new depths of feeling and experience. Then his hand released me, for a moment.

Within seconds his fingers were buried back inside my waiting cunt. Rhythmically pounding my cervix as he continued his quest. His eager and knowledgeable tongue lapped, swirled and explored my arsehole without missing a beat. I was surprised to realize I didn't miss his skilled mouth on my pussy, this was even better.

That's how I reached my first orgasm of the night. Naked, on all fours, barely recognising myself as Miles, fully clothed, dominated me from the floor. Roughly fucking me with his fingers and lovingly attending my arsehole with his tongue. In retrospect, he was giving me a gift. Helping me unlock new parts of myself, shaping my future in ways I didn't yet know.

As I recovered from my orgasm Miles tenderly stroked my bottom with his free hand, and withdrew his other from my pussy. I was momentarily disappointed at his hasty retreat. I heard his belt buckle undo, and felt the shift of the mattress as his body joined mine on the bed.

Miles moved past me and lay on the bed on his back. He had undressed, his wiry frame now only covered by a pair of dark blue, checkered boxer shorts, displaying yet more sketchy tattoos scattered across his pale skin. I was still frozen at the foot of bed, a little disorientated after my experience and unsure what was happening next. He beckoned for me to join him and I hastily obeyed.

I curled my vulnerable body around his as he lay with his head on my pillow. He kissed me ferociously, eliciting moans of both pain and pleasure as he teased my plump lower lip with his teeth. I wanted him. He dug his nails deeply into my skin, scratching the length of my back hard. Covering my spine and thighs in viscous red marks. My brain was navigating the blurry landscape of sensation - the filth, the pain, the pleasure, the tenderness. It was like nothing else and pushed me quickly into sensory overload.

Miles firmly guided me down his body, he wasn't rough - he didn't need to be. I was happy to oblige. I waited impatiently as he pulled down his underwear, salivating as his hips bucked to allow them to move freely. I needed to taste him, to feel his firm flesh in my hands. I kissed and licked his slim yet muscular thighs and hips as I teasingly worked towards his crotch. His patience waned and he gripped my hair tightly. I smiled to myself at the sharp pull.

I was there. My nose almost touching his skin I could smell the heady scent of his manhood. Nestled in his neatly trimmed bush of wiry black hair I was faced with the smallest penis I had ever seen. Standing proudly erect at around 2-2.5 inches long and with a girth to match it was perhaps at most the size of my finger. Although I was surprised to see a micro-penis in the wild I felt it was best to pretend everything was as I expected.

I began to blow Miles. I've always loved giving head. All those fun tricks i've learnt over the years to give my partner pleasure, getting to witness and enjoy their experience, the whole performance of it - it's great. Slow and teasing, running my tongue along their shaft and swirling it around their delicate bellend, or wet and sloppy, struggling to deepthroat, eyes watering, gagging, burying my messy face in their wet balls and gooch - I adore it.

With Miles, it was a little different. It was a new challenge. I could easily hold his entire erection in my mouth without concern, giving it all the attention I typically would, but holding or wanking his dick whilst teasing it with my tongue or keeping any of it in my mouth was an impossibility. There simply wasn't enough. Miles seemed oblivious to this fact or my struggles. Moaning in ecstasy as he was praising me for "taking it all so well" (a comment that raised my eyebrows in the circumstances - it wasn't even in danger of approaching my throat).

Eventually Miles wanted more. He pulled out a condom and asked me to put it on for him. I tried to rip open the packet but was quickly chastised by him for being too aggressive, he opened it deftly and returned it to my fumbling hands. I attempted to put the condom on him, but frankly I was inexperienced and embarrassed to admit it. I didn't have a great track record with being responsible with safe sex, so I hadn't often used condoms, and when I had they certainly weren't my domain.

I desperately tried to think back to the 1 sex ed lesson I had attended a few years previously. When the French teacher unceremoniously rubbered up an unturned desk leg. I was clueless - fuck. Fortunately Miles noticed I was at best putting it on inside out and stopped the situation from escalating further. He tossed the somewhat mangled condom on the floor and produced a new one. The mood had understandably somewhat dissipated by this point. Miles suggested it could be sexy for me to put the condom on with my mouth. He liked when women did that.

Still unwilling to admit my glaring and obvious ignorance, I agreed and again took the circle of plasticky nightmares from him with a smile. This time, I somehow managed to just about get the thing on him, with him checking first it was the right way round. Many years on I've taken a couple of lessons from this; firstly, I realized you probably shouldn't be fucking people you can't have an honest conversation about birth control with. Secondly, performing this oral condom action on an average, or above average sized penis is way harder.

Moving on with my ego somewhat soothed Miles started to work on reigniting the mood. He didn't want much from me, which was an unfamiliar experience. I barely touched his tiny cock that evening. Miles was a pleasure junkie, riding high on the experience of getting me off, controlling my body and my orgasms. He enjoyed causing me pain, distorting the pain/pleasure line beyond recognition. I was everything.

Miles kissed, licked, and nibbled every square inch of my body. His mouth exploring places that had until then lay dormant. As he breathed softly into my ear, my arm hairs raised and my nipples hardened. The only place in my body relatively unexplored by him was my breasts, they seemed to hold little interest for him. Most partners to date had delighted in my generous bosom, but I was learning that Miles wasn't like most people I had met.

His fingers grazed my slick slit teasingly. I wanted him now, but I knew it wasn't up to me. I stayed quiet, following his lead. He made the universal "roll over" gesture with his hand and I swiftly obliged. My face pressed into the pillows. I was hoping he might eat me again. I'd never been eaten from behind before and it was an unbelievable experience. I felt less in control, and hyper aware of the filthiness of it, of his nose buried in my arsehole. However, on this occasion he had something else in mind.

He began to slowly trail his fingers along the upturned soles of my feet, lightly tickling them in the process. As I instinctively squirmed away, a warning hand pressed against my calf. I relaxed back down. Miles continued stroking my delicate arches. I felt exposed and vulnerable, lying there unable to see what he was about to do. I was surprised to feel my body reacting to his touch. He bent my left leg, bringing my foot up behind me. I felt a new sensation as his warm, wet mouth enveloped my big toe like stepping into a hot bath.

He released it from his mouth with an audible slurp, then slowly dragged his tongue along the length of my foot, ending at my toes. I was once again mind blown by this new territory. I moaned softly in pleasure as his tongue curled around my toes - exploring every crevice in between. I could feel my pussy growing wetter with every warm, syrupy mouthful of my feet. I was enjoying this more than I could have ever predicted.

Who knows how long I lay there, allowing my feet to be caressed and gently manipulated by Miles' tongue and hands. It was a heady, sensual blur to me. I had forgotten about fucking, about being eaten, about anything other than what was happening in this moment with him. He had not.

Eventually, Miles broke me out of my daze by gently lifting me by the hips so I was on all fours again. This man had probably spent more time gazing at my puckered arsehole than my face throughout the entirety of our relationship. His wrapped cock was twitching at attention, leaking precum into its rubber sheath. I could barely see straight anymore, so far gone into pure lust and feeling. He plunged his cock into my waiting pussy.

It was... fine? Underwhelming I suppose. I absolutely do not think size matters, but when the difference is this significant - it kind of does. I was having some of the best sex I had ever experienced yet, and was so desperately horny, but I was now behind railed in doggy style and genuinely couldn't feel much of anything.

Miles was having a great time though, and I was eager to please. I also had been having a phenomenal evening until this point thanks to him, so I just tried to enjoy the ride and summon some enthusiasm for the disappointing drilling. Miles soon guided his thumb into my tight arsehole, lubricated by my slick pussy juices. I think this was the first time I had experienced double penetration, and it was both a blessing and a curse. A curse because I didn't feel full, or stretched, or stuffed, but a blessing because it was a very gentle beginners DP (excluding the lack of real lubrication).

Luckily for me I loved the feeling of his digit fucking my second hole, and my somewhat feigned enthusiasm was soon replaced by a juddering orgasm around his appendages. This sensation proved too much for Miles and he quickly reached his own climax, filling the gaping sack with his own sticky spunk.

He left soon after. We barely knew each other, it was morning now and we had lives to get on with. We didn't want to spend the day cuddling or eating brunch or whatever the fuck else one might do after a night of intimacy. The only physical trace he left behind was the remains of that bottle of vodka which I stashed in the freezer should I see him again in future. Spoiler alert - I did not, although he sent me drunk texts a few months later. When I told him I had a boyfriend now he begged me to tell him how much bigger my boyfriend's dick was than his, to tell him he wasn't good enough to fuck me, to degrade him. I refused. This was the first and only mention of his penis size between us.

We fell out of contact. Miles really opened my eyes to a new sexual landscape, and I thought about that evening often. Here I am writing about it over a decade later. It was significant and shaping. I told many future lovers a diluted version of my story with Miles. One where I realised I wasn't into feet, but I enjoyed having my feet worshipped, in the hopes of eliciting some attention.

Years later Miles and I reconnected. We still sparked, he's an interesting guy. We haven't seen each other in person again, but we've chatted a lot. I feel I can be open with him about sexuality in a way that creates a really open platform for great conversations and peer learning. A couple of years ago I gifted a story to him "Something Afoot". This was my penance. When I wrote that I still didn't know how deep my foot fetish ran. I still quoted the very diplomatic line of "I just like my feet being worshipped". How naive I was.

More experiences came along and transformed me, changing and shaping that view until I became the person you see here now. I can't wait to tell you about them all.