Remembrance Of Greatest Foot Tease

Since my earliest memories I have loved women's feet, both bare as well as in elegant sandals, boots, and shoes. I grew up in a house full of women, and while I can't say I was outright sexually attracted to my mother and sisters, I always enjoyed shopping with them to watch them try on shoes. As an adolescent, I relished my sisters' friends sleeping over, getting a chance to spy on them giving each other pedicures.

Given my obsession, it's only natural that I married a woman like my wife. She is amazingly beautiful and "upscale," with the most attractive feet I've ever seen. As a 6 1/2, she fits into the display models, so I always get to see her try on shoes when we walk by a store. Of course I fund her massive shoe addiction. Her closet would give the late Imelda Marcos some competition. I get hard just seeing the Zappos boxes on our porch. Watching her slide off whatever shoe she is wearing, and sometimes the socks too, then try the new pair on and walk around the foyer, fills me with the kind of painful pleasure I feel when I see her flirt with another man.

She really does use her feet to tease me and other guys. She won't let me outright address my foot fetish, calling me a "freak" if I start commenting on her feet or over-touching them. Knowing how crazy I am about her feet, she actually treats them a lot like her more private parts, careful not to outright show them too much. I mean, she will let me see them and all, but if we're on the sofa watching a movie and she notices I'm really fixated, she'll daintily tuck them under a cushion. I know for some women it's a treat if their husband gives them a foot message. She's made it a huge treat

for me

. I'm actually rewarded—when I do a lot of chores or take the kids out for an entire Saturday—with the opportunity to rub her buttery soft feet. Of course I want to do more, like have her give me a foot job and even let me suck on her toes during sex. She rarely lets me get anywhere close to such fantasies, which continues to frustrate me and turn me on.

To further torture me, at one of the places she gets a pedicure, the athletic, college-aged son of the salon owner gives women there a firm massage before they get their toes done. She's mentioned one too many times how good it feels to have his strong hands on her feet. I almost thought she was making it up just to tease me. Then one day when I'd dropped her off and I went to get some shopping done nearby, I came back early to meet her and saw him caressing her ankles and legs, before making his way down to her feet. She had her eyes closed and was naturally smiling a little, looking a lot like she does when we have sex. I stayed outside the window, gazing in. A few minutes later she opened her eyes and saw me staring. She smiled a little more directly at me, then closed her eyes again, turning her head away from me. Of course it really upset me, but it also got me really excited. For the rest of the week, whenever I saw her toes polished in the pink she'd chosen for her pedicure, I made myself sick replaying the scene of his hands on her.

Even though living with this fetish can be rough on me, it definitely keeps me wanting her. I could itemize the many different ways she attracts me in all of her adorable and sexy shoes; how when she comes home and takes her shoes off if she isn't wearing socks she'll wash her feet in the sink; how she lathers them in citrus smelling lotion or baby oil right in front of me and sometimes lets me take over; how when doing her makeup and blow-drying her hair after a shower she'll stand in front of the mirror in just her shoes and underwear; how sometimes I'll ask her the night before what shoes she plans to wear the next day and she'll tell me so I can stay up and obsess about seeing her in them. All of this just can't do justice either to my fetish or the beauty and sexiness of her feet.

One specific moment stands out, though, which upon reflection seems to capture so much of my great desire. It actually takes place in her absence. We were vacationing in Florida as a family. She looked especially amazing in a light blue summer dress along with these open toed, brown leather strapped shoes with tall cork heels she bought just for this trip. This particular day after lunch we walked along the shops in Miami, and she kept taking them off and on, to try on other shoes. Watching her model different sandals in the mirror turned me on more than usual, maybe because she'd been a lot more flirtatious with me and others on vacation. Later, as I gave the kids money to order their own ice cream at a nearby shop, I saw a guy on a bench checking her out. She lifted her foot to adjust the strap on her brown shoes, exposing her white panties for me and him under her light blue dress. There was something about seeing him looking, along with her delicate fingers on her own shoe strap, that electrified me.

Later, back in our room, she decided to go down to the pool with the kids as I headed to my lesson with the pro at the hotel's tennis club. I changed for tennis as they left, then went to the bathroom to find sunscreen. On the floor, I saw that she'd taken those brown strapped shoes off, tossing them next to her white panties as she'd changed into her bathing suit. Without fully realizing it, I suddenly found myself on the floor, with my hands on the same strap she'd touched earlier that day in front of that man. I caressed her shoes as I thought of her feet in them, running my fingers on the thin leather straps, down to the cushioned bottom at the heel, then to the faint outline of her toes. I held her white underwear with my other hand, smelling her on both objects while imagining how I'd just seen her walking in that blue summer dress, taking these shoes off and putting them back on in different stores.

As soon as I started to play with myself, I felt this incredible shudder throughout my body. It's like I came before actually coming. My head filled with light for a second as I rubbed my cock on the smoothness of the cushioned bottom, down to the impression of her toes, and then between the leather straps (still warm from her walking in them). The desire I'd always felt for her feet now seemed such a part of me, like there was no longer a separation from all I longed for in my great obsession. I know this must sound crazy now, as I report the memory of it. In the moment though I felt closer to her than I ever have, even when I'm actually inside her during sex.

The longer I played with myself by playing with the thought of her feet in these shoes, the more I went in and out of this ecstatic feeling. I suddenly started to summon specific erotic memories. The best and most intense memories of my fetish with her feet returned as if they were happening now. Once again, as if for the first time, we were back on our living room sofa, watching a movie as she let me massage her feet. I tasted the popcorn I'd been eating as I saw myself rubbing the salt and butter from my fingers onto her feet, then sucking it off of her toes as she moaned and I moved my fingers between her legs. I then changed scenes, as though changing TV channels, seeing us at our favorite sushi place on a date without the kids. She slipped off her red suede shoes she'd worn with these tight black pants, and out of nowhere put her foot on my erection, leaving it there throughout a whole evening of small talk.

No sooner would I almost come from the frustration of such simultaneously painful connection and apartness than I once again returned to a much greater ecstasy. The best way I can describe it is like when we both come at the same time during sex. I know she wasn't actually here on the floor in the bathroom with me, but it really felt like she was, at least for one intense moment. This will sound sacrilegious I'm sure, but the whole experience became rather spiritual for me. If only for a fleeting few seconds, I really escaped my body, even as I ferociously rubbed myself into and against her shoes and panties. At that moment I knew what it meant to no longer fear the loss of anything in my life, even life itself.

Near an incredible orgasm, I did come back down to earth, so it's not like I lived in the incredible feeling for that long. Strange, but the very moment of coming, unlike the zillion other times I've masturbated since I was 12 years old, seemed almost anti climatic. I cleaned myself off, grateful not to have come directly on her shoes (though I did on her panties, which I tried my best to wipe away). Then I went off to my tennis lesson, and back to the usual routine of my life, where I once again kept wanting her and her beautiful feet, as if for the first time.