My name is Jack Nguyen, but you can call me Jack. I am, from the outside
looking in, a normal eighteen year-old boy. And for the most part, that's true. I get
along well with others, I do well in school, I don't engage in any reckless
activities, and I stay out of trouble. I do, however, hold a bit of a
secret: I have a vicious foot fetish.
Now, I suppose that's not as bad as, say, necrophilia, bestiality,
or other extremely taboo paraphilias, but it's certainly odd to most. After
all, to many, feet are among the ugliest and dirtiest parts of the body. But,
I suppose some of us are just wired differently, because they drive me wild.
I've been enamored by women's feet for as long as I can remember. Before I
even knew what sex or arousal were, my eyes were pulled to the ground should
there be barefoot or sandaled ladies present, as if the toes themselves had a
gravitational tug. And if they have painted nails, or god forbid a toering, it's
over. I simply must look. As I'm sure you can understand, this can make things
tricky at school, since all it takes is one classmate or teacher wearing a
pair of sandals or open-toed high heels to shatter my concentration. Hell, even
seeing a chick pop her heel out of her shoe a few times can be enough to
increase my heart rate. Due to this, I've mastered the art of the creepshot;
taking pictures discreetly, without the subject knowing. Perhaps not the best
practice morally, but to be honest, I'm past the point of caring.
My fetish goes even further than this, though. After being a lover of
women's feet for so long, I began to develop a parallel interest in their
shoes. Of course, feet and shoes go hand in hand (or, if you will, foot in
foot), so this might be expected. All types of women's shoes turn me on, but
only if they have previously been worn by an attractive lady. Sneakers or
tennis shoes are excellent due to the neat designs and strong scent they
contain, due to the fact that they're used chiefly for athletic
purposes. High heels might be my favorite. They're not only classy and
feminine, but the pressure they exert upon the foot tends to cause much
presperation, which I happen to be a huge fan of; not to mention that many
high heel designs display the toes or even more of the foot. Flats are
professional, which appeals to me greatly as someone who has a "thing" for
office ladies and the like, not to mention they leave behind a stronger scent
than perhaps any other type of footwear. And of course, one cannot forget the
sandal/flip flop. While they might not leave behind much "residue" due to
their openness, the view they give while being worn makes them indispensable.
And yet, despite all this, until a few years ago, I had yet to even
touch a lady's foot or shoe. Being rather shy and average looking, I tend to
fly under the radar of most women, and I have never had a girlfriend. No, the
first pair of feet I ever got to have fun with was not a romantic partner, but
rather, those of my stepmom, Mariah.
Well, I suppose stepmom isn't quite correct. Rather, she's my stepmom
"to be," since her and my dad are only engaged. They met about four years ago.
My "real" Mom, pardon my French, is a total cunt. She divorced my dad when I
was five, leaving us in financial hard times, despite my father being more or
less well off before. It took several years, but he eventually found a
nice job that earns us a decent middle class living, though this comes at the
cost of some long hours and frequent trips away from home.
It was on such a trip that he met Mariah. She's thirty-seven, making
her four years younger than my father. She is, speaking frankly, maybe the
most beautiful woman I've ever seen. She stands at around five foot ten,
making her two inches taller than myself. Some might be turned off by this,
but I am certainly not one of them. Rather, her height makes her far more
attractive to me. Her hair is black, wavy, and reaches about halfway down her
back. The black hair creates a stark contrast with her emerald eyes and skin,
which is tanned considerably. Of course, Her chest and rear are more than
enough to draw glances from any nearby men. And despite all this, I've yet to
mention Mariah's most appealing assets: her feet.
C'mon, you knew it had to come up sooner or later, right? Mariah's
feet are so gorgeous, not even the greatest poets in the history of the
English language would be able to find the words to speak of them in a
satisfactory way. They are, like the rest of her, tanned quite heavily. Also
like her, they are big: size ten US. She gets regular pedicures, keeping her
slightly long, evenly clipped nails a milky while color.
Like many women, Mariah enjoys buying shoes, and she's amassed a
rather remarkable collection. She has almost any type of shoe you could think
of, from heels, to flats, to sneakers, she's got it somewhere in her shoe
closet. Mariah takes pride in her collection, however, I doubt she's aware
that someone else in the house also enjoys it. And when I say I enjoy it, I
mean I REALLY enjoy it. In fact, Mariah's shoe closet marked one of the
defining achievements of my life: it gave me my first real life foot fetish
experience.
You see, Mariah works a nine-to-five IT job at a local insurance
company (remember what I said about office ladies?). Including the drive home,
she can usually be expected to arrive at around 5:20 PM, which is about the
time my dad gets home, give or take fifteen minutes. My school dismisses its
students at 3:10 PM, and it takes me about twenty minutes to get home. As a
result, I usually have about two hours completely to myself when I get home.
Having come to possess this divine opportunity, I wasted no time
taking full advantage of it. I can still remember the first day I entered that
shoe closet. I walked home and saw that neither Mariah's, nor Dad's car were in
the driveway. I entered through the front door. "Hello? Anybody?" Nothing. I
walked all over the house, meticulously checking each room, just to make extra
sure I was all by my lonesome. When I was sure that no one was present, I
walked up the stairs to my parents' bedroom. With each step, my heart started
beating louder and louder as I began to doubt what I was doing. After all,
this was, from most any angle you choose to look at it, rather immoral. I was
using my stepmother, without her knowledge or consent, to satisfy my weird
fetish. I couldn't even imagine how she'd react if she knew what I was up to,
or the near-daily fantasies I had involving her, each one more depraved than
the last. Me and Mariah got along great and had a really nice relationship,
and here I was, ready to risk it all away for a chance to bust a nut.
A stronger man would have turned around and done something better with
his time, but alas, I'm but a mere sinner. I reached the top of the stairs and
opened the door to the left. I entered the somewhat messy bedroom, the floor
spangled with the odd sock, shirt, or blanket. To my left was a small white
door. I breathed deeply as I began to approach it, before stopping briefly to
grab a tissue from the nightstand, for reasons that I assume are obvious.
I twisted the knob and entered, shutting the door behind me. I ran my
fingers across the wall until I found the switch. I flicked it on, causing a
soft light to turn on overhead. Here I was, standing inside my stepmother's
shoe closet, with all sorts of articles to enjoy. I was less like a kid in a
candy store, and more like a child given free range to explore Willy Wonka's
entire factory.
The closet was cozy, with shoes lined up across the walls on white
Ikea shelves. The room was mostly clean, save for a rather large blanket lying
on the floor. Good thing I cut on the light when I did, or I probably would
have busted my ass. I paced the small room once or twice, surveying the feast
laid before my eyes. The tapestry of worn women's footwear was so great, I had
a hard time deciding where to begin, until a pair of white peep-toe heels
caught my eye. I had seen Mariah wear these on occasion, mostly when she
needed to dress somewhat formally. I grabbed one of them, running my fingers
along the smooth exterior. I peeked inside and saw that Mariah's sole had
sweated a quite visible imprint into the insole. My heart rate immediately
shot up, as did my member. And ran my hands along the inside, before holding
the shoe up to my face. I inhaled deeper than perhaps I ever had up to that
point. To be honest, there wasn't much of a smell other than that of the
materials from which the shoe was made, but the mere knowledge that this heel
had encased my stepmother's divine foot set my loins ablaze. I stuck a hand
down my pants and began to stroke myself, though slowly, and only for a few
moments. After all, I didn't wan't this to end too soon.
I set the heel back down, then tried some more of the footwear. I
smelt, licked, and caressed many more items, from brown leather sandals, to
heels, to pumps. With each sniff and lick I got harder and more frenzied, and
before long I knew I had to finish. I surveyed my options for what I would use
during my climax. I debated over what to grab for a while, but I eventually
made my decision. I grabbed a plain pair of black flats with a tan insole,
which was deeply impressed with the shape of Mariah's long sole and bulbous
toes. I got on my knees and pulled down my sweatpants and underwear. I shoved
the flat against my face, inhaling like an asthmatic as the scent of sweat and
leather filled my nostrils. I ran my tongue along the indentions produced by
the months of wear from Mariah's foot, shivering with excitement. I reached
into my pocket, pulled out the tissue, hung the shoe on my nose, and held
the Kleenex against my penis as I prepared to enjoy the greatest climax of my
life. That is, until I heard footsteps from within the house.
It wasn't very loud, but the click-clack from downstairs was
unmistakable. Mariah was home, and she was coming right up the stairs. My
blood turned to ice, and my heart was beating so violently, it was as if my
eardrums were about to burst open. I jerked up, pulled up my pants, and set
the flat back down where it was. I looked all around the small closet, trying
to formulate a plan of action in the scant few seconds I had. There was only
one thing that could possibly save me: the blanket on the ground. It was
fairly large and already bunched up, so it wouldn't have been to inconceivable
for me to hide under it. I cut off the light and hit the ground, flinging the
blanket over my body as I laid under it in the fetal position. I heard
Mariah's footsteps get louder as she entered her bedroom. I tried telling
myself that she was just getting something from her room and wouldn't bother
checking the shoe closet, but somehow I knew that I was just lying to myself.
The closet door opened with a creek, and the light came on. I could
see just a little bit out of the gap between the blanket and floor. Mariah was
about two feet away, and she was wearing a pair of closed toe black pumps. She
raised one leg out of view, before bringing it back down, except now it was
bare. She repeated the same motion with the other foot, removing both shoes
and placing them on the shelf. From beneath the sheet, I was being given a
front row view of my stepmom's amazing feet, fresh from their shoes, white
toes slapping the wooden floor. It was really quite wonderful, but thankfully,
Mariah wasted no time in the closet. She promptly turned off the light, shut
the door, and walked back downstairs. I held my ear to the floor as I closed
my eyes and made absolutely sure she was far away. When I heard the TV come
on, I knew I was all clear. I jumped up, turned on the lights, and grabbed the
freshly worn pumps.
The smell was far stronger than that of any I had tried previously.
The wet sweat had yet to go, and the warmth turned my face red. In a frenzy I
began masturbating while hanging the shoe off my nose as I licked the insole.
With my other hand, I pulled down my pants and inserted the head of my penis
into the other heel as I continued beating my dick like an abusive husband. I
started to hyperventilate as I came, shaking like a Parkinson's patient as I
unloaded a torrent of semen into Mariah's pump.
I sat there for a minute or two, feeling as if I were on another plane
of existence after such a powerful orgasm. I then grabbed the tissue and tried
scooping my cum out of the heel. I mostly succeeded, but there was no way I
actually got it all out of there, a thought I found extremely exciting.
I stood, pulled up my pants, and put the shoes back in place. I turned
off the light and tiptoed out of the room. As I crept towards my room, my escape
was interrupted by a voice from downstairs.
"Jack? You 'round here anywhere?"
"Yeah." I croaked back. No response. I began walking down the stairs,
making my way to the living room. There was Mariah, reclining on the couch,
watching TV, with her feet propped up on the coffee table, legs crossed at the
ankles.
"Oh, there you are. I figured you were around here somewhere. Anyway,
I had a cold water in the fridge, could you be a doll and fetch it for me?"
I nodded, staring at the ground. Guilt over what I'd done ate at me as I
grabbed the water from the fridge. I handed it back to Mariah, unable to make
eye contact with her.
"Why are you so tense, honey? Come have a seat next to me. Did you
have a hard day at school?" she said, patting the seat beside her on the
couch.
"Uh, yeah, kinda," I replied, sitting on the couch next to her. Upon
doing so, Mariah adjusted her seating position. She removed her feet from the
coffee table and started half lying on her side, soles facing my left. They
were so close to my hand, I could almost feel the heat they gave off.
"Aww, I understand honey. My day wasn't so great either. I had to do a
*lot* of running around the office, and my feet are killing me!" she said,
flexing and wriggling her toes slightly. My ears perked up when I heard this,
and a spark of bravery overcame me.
"I could rub them for you, if you'd like."
"Really? You'd do that for me?" Mariah's face lit up.
"Yeah, sure."
I scooted down the end of the sofa as Mariah turned sideways, placing
both heels on my thighs. I took her soft, fleshy, and slightly sweaty bare
feet into my hands, caressing them as if I'd found the holy grail. They were
far warmer than I anticipated, which made me incredibly aroused. I can only
imagine how horny I'd've been had I not just ejaculated minutes prior.
We continued like that for a while, until the doorbell rang. My dad
was home, and Mariah got up to welcome him. I exchanged a few words with
my dad and went to my room, to "play video games." Of course, I trust the
reader to know that I was, in fact, furiously masturbating.
Thus began my first experience with my stepmom's feet, and Christ what
an experience it was. However, even this amazing day was merely a shadow of
what was to come, as the relationship between me, Mariah, and Mariah's
gorgeous feet was just getting started.