What my girlfriend doesn’t know about my foot fetish

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What my girlfriend doesn’t know about my foot fetish


When you’re a foot fetishist, summer is probably the best time of year. Everywhere you look there is a huge variety of women’s feet on display.

Then again, in the winter, when they’re in boots and shoes, you get the added advantage of that slightly sweaty smell that turns me on so much.

My fascination started when I was 14 years old, growing up in Queens. The woman who lived in the apartment across the hall would come to visit my mother in bare feet. I’d sit and study her beautiful soles as she rested them on the chair or table. The seeds of lust were planted.

Now, I need to indulge in a little foot fetishism to get aroused. These days, I’m living with my partner of nine years, and she totally gets my obsession. She has her own sexual quirks, so she’s very accepting.

She knows to keep her feet well-maintained because I don’t like corns, bunions and dry skin. I’ll even pay for her to get regular pedicures — l like a French pedicure, but, now [that] it’s summer, I’m also into bright orange and red nail polish.

When I’m out and about, I’ll indulge in a bit of fantasy by looking at strangers’ feet. One of my favorite spots is Central Park because you always get women kicking off their shoes on the lawns and benches.

I’ll try and sit next to them and chat them up. It’s harmless fun, and they never notice that I’m more interested in their feet than anything else. It’s not like my tongue is hanging out of my mouth.

My other indulgences — which I obviously don’t tell my girlfriend about — include advertising on Craigslist for strangers to let me worship their feet. Usually, women in their 40s or 50s answer my ads.

I’ll visit them in their apartments during my lunch break. They usually charge around $75 per visit — and that typically includes some kind of sex act. I always tell them that they can come to my apartment if they prefer. Just because I’ve got a fetish, it doesn’t mean I’m a murderer.

I’m also a fan of so-called foot-fetish parties, which happen at hotels across Manhattan. You sign up for a mailing list, and they alert you to the location a couple of hours before it starts.

The cost is $125 to $150, and you get to pick a foot model from as many as 50 girls.

They lead you to a curtained-off area where you can do whatever you want with them. I usually ask my model to wear socks for 20 minutes or so, then we’ll use the sock to get me excited.

I know it’s wrong to cheat on my partner, but nobody is getting hurt by my fetish. It’s my little secret — my thing which doesn’t involve anyone else in my immediate circle. I can’t see me giving it up anytime soon.

— As told to Jane Ridley


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