My wife and I have been married for just over 15 years; we met in our junior year of high school but didn't start dating until college. We're truly partners and our friends have always told us how great our relationship is, but behind bedroom doors our sex life has always been vanilla. Honestly, we've always been career focused so it's been good for us. We worked long hours and it didn't lead to a lot of free time for fun and exploration of each other. Vanilla worked.
The one area she always indulged me, even early in our relationship, was my foot fetish. Lovely naturally tanned slender size 8s, toes always painted or French tipped, high arches, and sharp thin ankles; they are truly perfect. The best part is that she knows how much I love them, so she makes sure to take extra care and show them off for me. Frequent trips to the nail salon that turned into frequent home pedicures during the pandemic. Always barefoot around the house, flip flops in public, and a delicate anklet to grab attention. I've seen more than a few men glance down at her feet.
Our foot activity even developed its own standard: fresh out of the shower she would lay back on the bed, feet clean and smelling of lavender and peppermint or rosemary, I would take them into my hands and give them a nice deep massage to get her relaxed followed by gentle kisses to her toes and soles before progressing into some light worship.
A handjob or a footjob might come next (on nights she wasn't tired). I'd lay back with my head at the foot of the bed with her feet in my face or exploring my chest while I'd jerk off spilling cum onto my belly. Less often, I'd kneel at her feet and cover them with my warm glistening semen. I love the look of her tender soft soles slippery with my cum pooling between her toes. Then I'd grab a tissue and clean my stomach or her feet. That was that.
Maybe it sounds boring, but when you're on something that works, you don't feel the need to mess with the formula too much.
I've always had another mild kink; one that I've never fulfilled - licking her cum covered feet. To take her toes into my mouth and suck them clean. To erase every single drop of cum with my mouth. It's not just that I wanted to taste my sperm, it was also the idea of eating it from her feet that turned me on. Submitting and humbling myself before her to thank her for allowing me to cum on her beautiful bare feet in the first place.
The major problem is that after orgasm I lose all interest and ability. I can obsess over it for days on end, but the moment the opportunity arises I reach for that tissue to clean up. I know there's the whole refractory period thing. And, another part of me worries that she may think less of me (even though I know she wouldn't). Either way, it has never happened. .
Long ago, early in our relationship, that desire was mild, something I thought about here and there. Along the lines of "yeah, I'd like to do that someday." But, it has grown much stronger as I've gotten older. And, as our marriage is fully into its second decade, and as our sex life has been reduced to birthdays and special occasions, that desire has exponentially increased to the pount that it has become a borderline obsession. I read stories and watch videos of men kneeling at a woman's feet, hungry for their own cum. And I'd fall asleep at night thinking that maybe tomorrow I will allow it to be my turn.
Then 2020 happened.
Believe it or not, when the lockdowns happened and we were confined to the same space 24 hours a day 7 days a week for days on end, our work life actually got even busier and there was even less time to spend together. Our sex went from being endangered to extinct.
On top of that, we were feeling a little body-conscious. We needed a physical outlet to keep ourselves moving since we could no longer get to the gym. Now, we aren't fitness freaks, but we do our best to stay in shape. And, all the sourdough bread and cookies we made to cope with the lockdowns were beginning to stick to the ribs. That lead us to set up our own personal home gym when autumn began to set in and we foresaw a cold isolated winter. There was no way in hell we were going to reveal ourselves to the world in 2021 looking doughier than our bread.
Unfortunately a home gym doesn't usually come with a lot of space and we couldn't both be in the same space at the same time. So, usually I would lift first and then hop on the treadmill for a run. As I'm running, she usually gets started on her workout; yoga is her particular favorite.
Our treadmill faces in toward the middle of the room giving me a clear line of sight to the activity in front of me. Let me tell you, the half hour I run is an amazing experience on yoga day. Watching her athletic figure stretch into the various poses, always barefoot. She's caught me staring more than a few times and always gives me a knowing grin. I swear she angles some of the poses in just the right way to give me a show. The half hour on the treadmill goes by both too fast and excruciatingly slow. I could watch it for hours and it's over in a snap, but it's also exceedingly difficult to run with a bone in your boxer briefs.
Because I know she's on a tight schedule and usually has to log back in to work immediately after the midday workout, there's rarely any time to show appreciation to that body or those flexible yoga toes. So, I hop in the shower and take care of myself before continuing on with the rest of my day.
But, last week, there was a change. It all began on an afternoon when, in typical fashion, I got on the treadmill for my usual run and she began setting up her mat for a yoga session. She looked at me, deviously smiled, and completely out of character said "ready for the show, foot boy?"
I was struck speechless; a rarity if you ask her. I managed an exasperated chuckle and said "always" with a smile on my face. That was very unlike her.
But, before I had even gotten off the treadmill, she started getting messages from coworkers on her phone. I knew, yet again, that nothing was going to happen and I would be left to my own. I went upstairs and took my normal self pleasing shower and went on with the rest of my day. She was still working late into the evening when I finally gave up and went to bed.
The next morning, I woke up and headed to my desk to get some work done. I wanted to let her sleep in a bit before the workday that was, as always, assured to be busy. A little while later, mired in reports, I heard the familiar pad of bare feet on hardwood that signaled that she was awake. Coffee cup in hand, hair up in a ponytail, baggy t-shirt and sweat pants, she leaned into the doorway to my office, one foot propped up on the opposite knee, told me good morning, and asked what my day looked like.
"Oh, the usual. Surprisingly free of meetings in the afternoon, but plenty of administrative work," I told her.
"Well, that's good," she said. "Hey, do you mind if I work out before you today? I have some important meetings this afternoon that I'd like to be prepared for and some time on the treadmill will be just what i need to give me a chance to clear my brain."
"Of course, not a problem at all. I'll just head down a little later." To be honest, I was disappointed. Watching her workout was one of my favorite parts of the day. But, there would be other days.
"Thanks babe. Love you, have a great day!" And, with a flip of her ponytail, she was off to get ready for the day.
