I am writing this to confess that I, or should I say we, have a secret life. I am a foot fetish mistress. Oh, by the way, I am married. My husband agreed to my part time career because of two things: I charge $250 per hour, and I agreed to tell him the stories after they happened while he plays with my feet and pleasures himself. It's his biggest turn on.
What started it all was an innocent occurrence at our home one evening. I am telling you this while my husband Phil is on the end of our bed fondling my socked feet. My socks were recently slipped on my size 6 feet after a bath.
I used to hide my feet. I had no idea how many guys liked feet until I met Phil. He says my feet are perfect, for him at least. I have a nice arch, and toes that go across from big to small at a very straight angle but not too sharp of an angle either. If you are a foot lover you likely understand. My nail beds are deep, my nails painted a hot pink, clipped quite tidy and short, and my toe tips are very round and not pointy like some women's feet are, I am told. The plumpness of my toes seem to be exactly right as there are no gaps between my toes, creating cute toe cleavage when I have the right shoes on.
This story is about Phil's friend Ralph coming over one night before he was home from work. There was a pile of childrens' toys and clothes on the livingroom chair so the two of us sat on either side of the sofa as we waited for Phil. At that time, I had a pair of jeans on and some pantyhose because it was winter and my feet were a little bit cold. I was wearing this crazy pair of bunny slippers that I got for my 30th birthday a few weeks ago. The slippers were the type that the front of my foot slid into and the back was bare. They were fuzzy with a bunny face on the fronts and two long ears on either slipper.
"What color were the pantyhose," asked Phil. "Were they reinforced?"
They were a light brown with sheer toe, I told him. Just a seam running across all five toes on either foot.
"Ummmm" he said, placing my socked toes right up to his mouth and began kissing them passionately and smelling them. They likely smelled like lotion and bath soap, but Phil says they never smell bad even if I am out shopping all afternoon.
I turned on the TV and his friend and I began watching an old movie which we both said we liked, while we waited for Phil to get home.