View Full Version : Two Feet, Four Feet, No Feet, and then a Stinking Hangover

28-12-2012, 02:53 AM
Well, ladies and gentlemen, I'd like to tell you a little story. I'll explain first of all that the setup is a great deal more involved than the payoff; this isn't intended for titilation, but moreover as a story with a moral; a positive outcome for a foot fetishist, and some food for thought for folk who are perhaps nervous about letting their foot-related desires out in the open. This story is more about the foreplay than the sordid act itself; and that's the way I prefer them. I'm into the thrill of anticipation, the environment, the overall experience. I like memorable experiences that form into indelible memories; that evoke nostalgia, excitement, scents, and flavours. That's what I'm trying to build here. If you want a quick and dirty wank tale, with lots of dirty talk and wall-to-wall feet and sex and feet and feet and feet and sex and feet, you're probably wasting your time. This may not be the most exciting, titilating work of erotica ever written, but at the very least it's true and will attain a standard of grammar not often seen at DOSF...

First of all, I'll give you some background. I like background and backstory. Be patient; I'm sure you'll survive.

Some years ago I posted about a fun "almost-experience" I had at a Christmas party at work. It involved a beautiful (and slutty) woman who was working in administration at the time. We hadn't really spoken much - I found her quite intimidating. She was friendly, always - but you know those women who are so hot and so popular you almost feel like you're wasting their time just by speaking to them? Maybe it's just me, but that's how I felt so whenever we had to transact business at work I tried to keep things short and to the point. I'm not a massively confident person - especially around women. For better or worse, that's the truth and it's not something I can change... it's something I must work with. My natural role seems to be that of the terrified, cute, quiet guy. I know you won't believe that - at this point you're probably thinking I'm a bolshy opinionated loudmouth. I'm not. I'm a scared guy trying to make sense of a very complicated and not-at-all intuitive world.

Anyway, I digress; Yvonne is one of those women who *always* looks like she's on her way to a party - even when she's doing nothing more exciting than sitting in an office doing filing. You can imagine that when she actually *is* on her way to a party, she goes all out and never, ever disappoints. My job is an IT engineer so I got to spend a fair bit of time up in her office... and of course I got to see a fair selection of her outfits (not to mention a variety of sexy shoes under the desk) but every time, alas, the interaction was friendly but quick and professional.

My interest in her began at my birthday party in 2006. My boss at the time organised a secret party and it was one of those really great evenings where everything went right. My birthday is in May, and 2006 was a hot one - so we sat on the lawn outside the bar, drinking and watching the world go by. This guy's gift to me - which he presented to me in front of about thirty people - was a giant screen-printed poster montage of nothing but feet; he'd spent the previous two weeks sneaking around the office asking women (and sadly, because my boss has an evil sense of humour, a token number of men) to allow their feet to be photographed - and alarmingly he managed to capture about twenty pairs. Somehow, he managed to do this without me noticing - and since I have a sixth sense for anything feet related, that's a stupendous achievement and he deserves kudos for that.

There were some that were nicer than others, but one pair stood out... I guessed correctly - they were Yvonne's - and she was suitably impressed. So, the connection was made, and thus began my complicated obsession.

A year later at the Christmas party of 2007 I think it wasm, she turned up, dressed to impress, and of course my eyes immediately settled on the footwear; a beautiful pair of silver, open-toed sparkly heels - I've come to think of them as "stripper heels" just so you know the sort of thing we're talking about. About half way through the night I was drifting off to sleep in a chair just opposite the dance floor. If you're a nervous guy, just go to a party, sit somewhere quiet but accessible, and curious women will come to YOU. She decided the best way to attract my attention and wake me up was to sit in my lap - and it sure worked. Pretty humiliated but nonetheless incredibly drunk, I made a pretty good attempt at keeping my decorum - and eventually she seated herself in the chair next to mine.

Next thing I know, she's swinging her legs around and putting her feet almost in my lap. Feeling brave, I leant in and said "That's a mean thing to do to a guy with a foot fetish..." - I was half expecting her to either ignore me or make a quick exit but instead an expression of pure evil came over her face. She stared right in my eyes, pushed me off the chair onto the ground, lifted up her feet, and pushed them - still encased in those wonderful stripper heels - in my face. (Bear in mind, I'm sitting on the floor, she's sitting in a chair, wearing a stupidly short miniskirt with her feet lifted up to my shoulders - giving me a pretty amazing view of her underwear into the bargain - black lace, if you're interested.)

Now, here's my failure - for on that evening I did a stupid thing. I got overwhelmed; due to her expression - one of pure power and intensity, the public venue, my relationship status at the time (I was unofficially engaged) and the fact that I found her generally intimidating anyway. Instinct took over. I sat transfixed for a few seconds by those feet two inches from my face, looked up at her, she looked at me. I briefly contemplated what might happen, ran over about a dozen different scenarios in my mind, and panicked. I began to feel my throat closing and when I realised I couldn't breathe, I ran away. I literally skated across the carpet on my arse and ran for my life. About half an hour later I caught her in the corridor as she was leaving and tried to slur out a pathetic apology of sorts - she told me I was cute, kissed me without warning, and made her exit - and that was the end of that. She resigned the following summer so I never got another Christmas party with her. Our social lives never really met again after that - although I did see her briefly at a mutual-friend gathering last year, she was on her way out just when I arrived and all we managed was the requisite polite greeting and handshake before she caught her bus home...

But, I won't tell a lie... she's always been in my thoughts and my mind keeps taking me back to that party - even though it was four years ago - and making me wonder what might've been. Buggering that one up has been one of my most personal moments of shame and I was fairly well convinced that I had completely blown it as far as she was concerned.

So, fast forward to now - 2012's party was yesterday, I was there, expecting nothing. Drink in one hand, mince pie in the other, doing a bit of shameless brown-nosing with the big boss. Just then, there's a break in the music and the DJ announces that (due to my silly Christmas tradition of attending work functions in full Father Christmas costume) I've won the "Best Santa" prize and that my presence is required on stage to collect my prize. I trotted off and just as I was reaching the stage somebody in the crowd leapt out and high-fived me. I barely registered it at the time, as I was preoccupied with stage terror - but when I came down, sure enough, it was her - with a vastly different hair style (peroxide blonde the last time I saw her, now a deep red,) another fantastically slutty dress, and a pair of golden closed-toe heels. I went over and started a conversation; I believe it started with "What the &%@# are you doing here???!" and progressed through the usual "I haven't seen you for a long time and I fancy the arse off you, but I'm going to play it COOOL..." book of conversational cliches. It was pleasant enough - and I figured she'd forgotten all about our last "encounter". It was just nice to catch up a little bit - albeit in the chaos and confusion of a drunken knees-up.

The party wore on and about half an hour later, she was perched on the arm of a couch and I was sitting in a chair opposite still nattering about nothing at all - and along comes a female colleague, who compliments Yvonne on her shoes. To my terror, she turned to my colleague and said "Yeah, they're nice aren't they! I think Danny *really* likes them, though..." winking at me. She swung around and playfully dug one of her deliciously pointy heels into my fake Santa gut.

My colleague said, "Oh, yeah, the feet thing! How do YOU know about that?"

She said that she learned about my fetish many years ago. (I have traditionally not kept my fetish in any way hidden - most people at work are aware of it to some degree. It usually generates a discussion or two; rarely is it the prelude to some actual foot-related activities but it has been known. I have always found people generally open and unfazed by it; whether it's something to do with the way I come across or down to sheer luck, I don't know - but it's worth bearing in mind if you wonder how people will react to a foot fetish: On the whole, pretty well. I've even known some folk to become irritated when they discover they're not the only person who knew, because they felt special!)

Figuring I had nothing to lose, and with confidence bolstered by the presence of another female who knew about my "thing", I looked her right in the eye and said "Speaking of which, I'm sure you and I have unfinished business..."

Again, expecting nothing - perhaps an awkward "Oh, yeah, heh..." followed by a change of subject or a blank. I don't think I even expected her to remember what I was on about.

No blank, no awkward change of subject.

She gestured down at her feet, and reached down to the heel strap of her left shoe. She slowly loosened it, seductively dangled the left golden heel for a few moments, let it drop to the floor, and flexed her toes. Then she looked back up at me, and said only "Well?" - to which I replied with a surprisingly calm and thoughtful "Hmm..."

Flicking my glance between her expectant face and her wiggling toes, I again contemplated my situation... and went back in my mind to that party all those years ago. I mentally slapped my younger self in the face for passing up such a golden opportunity. Something inside me just clicked - something which has never clicked before in my life. I looked up at her and looked into her eyes, and she looked back into mine, and I saw a woman who accepted me - the way I am. Suddenly, things seemed a whole lot simpler. I was among friends. No fright, no panic, no scarper instinct - just a desire to do what comes naturally, enjoy the experience, give pleasure to us both, and communicate. I considered that even though I was being watched, all that anybody would see is me being myself - and probably the most honest display of joy any of them would've ever seen from me. Why on earth should I be ashamed?

"You do realise I've wanted to do this since two-thousand-and-bloody-seven?"

"Danny, all you had to do was ask."

And that, my friends, is what it comes down to. Those words imbued me with a surprising confidence. As they should for you good folk as well; I flushed literally years down the toilet, dithering about with her... and even with her moving on to a different job and even leaving England for a few years, the God of foot fetishism had delivered her back to me with a very simple message; all along, I could've had those feet any time I wanted them. Those painful sessions of crawling around under her desk while she worked, trying to tidy computer cables but fixated by the tiniest peek of her foot... that I now realised could have very easily resulted in the fulfilment of every foot fetishist's office girl fantasy... with the hottest girl in the business.

The rest of the room dissolved into soft focus. My psyche filtered out every person, every object, and every sound - leaving me alone with those delicious feet and Yvonne's ecstatically happy face as she understood the gravitas of what was about to happen for me.

After pausing for a moment to do a quick bit of mental arithmetic (height of my chair, height of her couch, length of her legs, distance between my chair and hers - some good old fashioned Pythagoras) I figured I would be better off on the floor in the interests of her comfort and mine. Kicking my chair out from underneath me, I lowered myself to the floor and looked up - and the most wonderful sight looked back at me. A face of genuine happiness. I may remember that face even more clearly than the feet!

I wasn't quite sure what to do at this point; obviously anything too conspicious probably would have got me slapped... and since my boss and about a dozen of my superiors were milling around the bar, noticing me, and wondering why I was sitting on the floor... so I played safe. I lifted up that recently exposed foot and found myself simply staring at it, for all of its beauty. Having just left the confines of a show moments previously, the first thing I noticed about it is that it was very, very sweaty. I inhaled deeply and I do believe I involuntarily shuddered with joy. My very obvious reaction to the smell received recognition in the form of a giggle. I lifted her foot closer to my face and simply looked at it from every angle - as if I were trying to capture a 3D image of it. I've never really done that before. I've always just taken the viewpoint that it's a foot, it looks like a foot, and that's good enough - let's get on with the fun and games. This time, though, something was different. I just wanted to investigate every detail methodically. I've had no shortage of feet to play with in my life, but I think this was the first time I spent such a long time just observing and studying it.

I began to administer a foot massage - and I started off pretty sheepishly, with hindsight. I was trying to avoid handling her foot in any way that may be construed as "too erotic" as I'm always worried that I'll do something that clarifies my sexual interest and that would cause awkwardness. Even when I'm drunk and horny and have a sweaty foot in my face, I'm still thoughtful. Bearing that in mind, I tried to be pretty workmanlike about it - I had initially worried that I was being a boring masseuse... but when I looked up at her, as I prodded nervously at her magnificent foot, she only looked back, giggled, and breathlessly whispered "More..."

I felt her push her bare foot closer. The other foot - still encased in golden heel - began to caress the side of my leg. Buoyed by this obvious encouragement, my massage became deeper and considerably more erotic. I now touched her foot as only a man completely in love with it could. Within moments I was kneading and rubbing like a pro. Looking up to see if I was going too far or not, I noticed that she had her eyes closed and her mouth slightly open - which I figured was probably a good sign. I decided that it would be a good time to investigate between her toes in a little more detail. I gently separated them and ran my fingers between them - and sure enough, they were slick with sweat and unimagineably soft. I looked up again, just in time to see her eyes spring open and her mouth break out into a wide smile. She swung her other leg around - the one which was still wearing a shoe, and gently prised it off in my lap.

"Do you want both of my feet at the same time?" she asked - as if I really had to answer her. Foot number two entered my peripheral vision and I got a fresh blast of the most delicious sweaty feet smell.

At this point, I lost control to a certain extent. She was looking at me, and I looked up at her and smiled. I then looked back down to her feet, gently lifted them to my face, and deeply kissed her toes, one by one.

She looked like she wanted to push me to the ground and fuck me there and then.

Just then, I heard a clunking noise from behind me.

"Aw, fuck no! There's no way you're spending all your time on HER, tonight!" said my colleague - the same one who had praised Yvonne's shoes earlier. She'd been sitting there next to us watching the whole event and I hadn't even registered that she was still there.

A pair of absolutely reeking ebony soles thrust their way under my arms from behind.

"My turn, my turn!"

Now, I have to admit... Getting two pairs of feet to play with at the same time must be every foot man's fantasy. I'd wanted to get my hands on my colleagues feet for months and now here they were, wiggling in my face, begging for some attention... and all I wanted was for her to bugger off! Any other day, I'd have gone to town... but I really already had my hands full with Yvonne - figuratively and literally - and I was just in that sort of place where a man doesn't want to be disturbed. A very erotic situation was being interrupted in a highly crass way.

The whole thing went a bit downhill after that, to be honest. I tried my best to service them both but my enthusiasm dropped somewhat. I excused myself to go to the toilet and when I returned, they'd both disappeared off to the dance floor. Throughout the rest of the evening, every time I managed to get near to Yvonne, that bloody woman would appear within seconds with some obvious distraction tactic - and every time I found some time alone I would turn around and there she was wiggling her toes in my face and begging for more! I feel bad that I really wasn't in the mood for it - I guess I must've been really, REALLY into the Yvonne situation.

Still, it was fun.

Later on in the evening, the "other" colleague had got herself into some ludicrous dance so I finally got a few moments with Yvonne. We both sat on the couch she had earlier balanced upon. About ten minutes previously I had tripped over the side of the couch and dispensed half a pint of Stout all over the floor. I apologised for the mess; proclaiming "Sorry, I made a mess all over the floor." and she teased the crap out of me for THAT! Off came those shoes again - and she started playing with her feet, rubbing them, and watching my reaction. I was pretty sure some more fun was about to take place.


A large hand slapped me on the back from behind. In the hand was a bottle of beer, most of which ended up on my head.

"Eyyyyyyy MAAAAAAATE! Wotcher! Hahahaha! The fuckin' 'ell you doin', eh? Ah fort you got the bullet years and years back! Arm gunner buy yer a fuckin' beer!"

A guy I used to go drinking with, who used to do contract jobs for us a few years ago, stumbled over and sat between Yvonne and I - completely and utterly oblivious to what he had interrupted.

"Ah, you E... E... Eh... You that Irish bird wot usetah work upstairs wiv that hairy old tosser wot used to be my guvnor. Where'd that old fucker get to, then?"

"He died." I interjected.


And that was the end of my SECOND opportunity of the night!

At the end of the evening, we all staggered out of the bar and I walked with Yvonne back to where she was staying. Along the way she suddenly tripped and complained that the straps on her shoes had worked loose. She asked me to hold her bag while she sorted it out - but I proposed instead that I sort it out for her! So, I got down on the floor again and restrapped her shoes for her - copping another feel in the process.

And so ends my work Christmas party!

I strongly suspect we will get together again. I've now got her on Facebook and we're going to go out for drinks in the new year. Who knows? I might get lucky. Very lucky!

28-12-2012, 03:47 AM
sounds like a helluva party. seems like you guys on that side of the world have the most fun with feet!:cool:

28-12-2012, 04:19 AM

You getting a chance to rub a pair of feet of someone you missed an opportunity with before is lucky. Getting a second pair is beyond lucky.

Love the story.

01-01-2013, 08:14 AM
That sounds like a wonderful experience. I could almost feel the frustration at the constant interruption of the other woman following you around at the party.

Hopefully you will have plenty of more opportunities in 2013.

01-01-2013, 01:56 PM
Here's hoping! (And to the rest of us, as well!)

It's a strange thing, to have feet offered to me on a plate and all I could think was "Uh, can you fuck off, please?"

I've known her for almost five years - and no feet. So, what changed? Jealousy? A clumsily-executed plan to stuff up my moment with Yvonne? Who knows? Either way... It was fun, and I'm fairly sure the offer is still open with Yvonne.

Given how far I managed to get with her in a public space, I should think a more private venue would yield an experience that could wipe the floor with this little story... Who knows what could transpire...? :D

She lives really close to me - only ten minutes drive...

22-01-2013, 04:38 PM
Great story. Very well written. I could almost smell the scent of those two pairs of feet. Now...did you finally make that ten minutes drive to Yvonne´s home?

22-01-2013, 11:23 PM
That was very well written, and I'm definitely seeing a few lessons that can be gleaned off it. One of the things that I enjoy about it is the lack of payoff. Not every venture ends in climax, and I like that it's represented here, if that isn't too strange.

24-02-2013, 05:58 PM
Excellent experience. It didn't even need a payoff, because I felt like I was at the damn party! Well described.

28-02-2013, 08:13 PM
Many thanks for the wonderful comments, folks. I was worried that because this wasn't the most overt, sexual experience that people wouldn't be interested... so, much gratitude.

As something of an update... I finally met up with Yvonne for a drink last night. She's kinda hard to pin down at the moment due to stress at work, health problems (slipped disc) and an impending house move... but nonetheless she found some time for me and we met up at a bar. She warned me ahead of time that she didn't have very long, but nevertheless she repeatedly extended the evening and we ended up chatting and drinking for almost three hours. We got on really well and agreed to meet up again as soon as her house move has been completed.

No feet this time - sadly - but definitely a positive experience and one which I suspect will eventually lead to more feet. I won't deny that I sure noticed her thigh high black leather boots...

So, off we go. I think my chances will improve now. It's the first time we actually both came together explicitly for one another in a social context and it worked out really well. I'm going to get those feet, you see if I don't... :D

02-03-2013, 09:23 AM
Yes! Yvonne sounds sooo hot.