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Caught In The Act
Published on Thursday, January 10, 2008
This story was submitted anonymously.

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I'm not like a lot of you guys who are good with women. I never have been. I'm almost forty years old, still not married, I've never really had any steady girlfriends, and I live alone in a small single apartment that sits in the basement of our building next to our laundry room. But I've adapted, and I'm suprisingly happy with my lifestyle. As of this writing, I'm also in a very upbeat state of mind because something happened to me the other day that ended up turning into a number of incredible foot fetish adventures that I will always look fondly on even if it all stops tomorrow. So I can finally say with a knowing smile on my face that there is no reason to feel sorry for me. I might even go so far as to say that many of you might end up being jealous when you read my story. Okay, my particular lifestyle will certainly seem sad to many of you, but let's face it, for a foot fetish guy who has feet to enjoy regularly, life is not bad at all.

Debbie has lived in an apartment in the floor above me for close to ten years. Her husband is a nice enough guy, but we never became friends; just acquaintances. Over the years, Debbie and I had become somewhat friendly towards one another, more than I had with her husband at least, but we were never particularly close until recently. The only time that we ever really saw each other was when we were both picking up our mail in the lobby, or in the laundry room in our apartment building. Our chats were always pretty brief. Even now, ours is a friendship of odd circusmstances, and similar sexual tastes. So far, in the dozen or so times that we've gotten together, things have worked out amazingly well. Tentatively, both of us clearly want our friends with benefits relationship to continue, but we don't really speak about it for ruining whetever it is that we have together.

I've had a foot fetish for as long as I can remember. I had noticed Debbie's exceptionally perfect feet the first day that she and her husband had moved into their apartment. Just by chance I ended up helping them move some of their belongings into their place. Oddly enough, the conversations that I had with both Debbie and her husband on that first day we met were the longest we had ever had. But in our building, people in it, including me, like our privacy, so none of us really socialize beyond the normal greetings as we pass one another in hallways, or when we pick up our mail, or when we do our laundry.

But even when we do our laundry, we all somehow manage to schedule ourselves so that it's rare when any two of us are doing laundry at the same time. In a 25-unit building w
ith only three washing machines, and two dryers, things just kind of worked out that way, and everyone seems to be happy.

Naturally, I could never have forgotten about Debbie's sexy feet after seeing them on that first day, but I knew from the start that it would be pointless to try anything with her. So after a while I just fantasized about her feet on occasion, and accepted the way things were.

It seemed like only yesterday when Debbie and her husband moved into our building, but almost ten years had passed. For years Debbie had done her laundry in the daytime, pretty much on the same day of the week, and at the same time. I always gave her space, though, and rarely ever came out of my apartment when she was doing her laundry. On rare occasions Debbie would stay down in the basement while her laundry cycles were going on, but most of the time she was only in the basement when she needed to be there between cycles, and then to take her clothes back upstairs.

On one fateful day while stepping out of my apartment, I noticed with delight that Debbie had left a pair of slippers on the floor of the laundry room. I guessed that she has meant to thrown them into the washer with a load of laundry, but had forgotten them. I've never been a shoe fetish kind of guy; just a foot fetish one, but there was something about those slippers that compelled me to pick them up in my hands, and give them a good inspection.

One would have thought that I would have known the size of Debbie's feet after having lived in the same building for years with her, but I hadn't known. Remember, we weren't particularly close. To my amusement, a smile hit my face when I turned one of the slippers over to find that I had correctly guessed the size of her feet all along. Debbie's feet were size 9 1/2. I realize that many of you prefer the so-called perfect size of 7 1/2, but I'm more attracted to larger female feet as long as they are in good shape, and with toes that are symmetrical.

As I squeezed the softness of Debbie's slippers in my hands, a vision of her feet came to my mind. I had seen her in these very slippers many, many times. In a robe of the same color, she would often come down to the laundry room wearing them. Without giving it a second thought, I opened the washer's lid, interrupting its cycle, and noticed Debbie's robe with the other clothes. I reached through the water, grabbed it in my hands, and pulled it up a bit to confirm that it was the same robe I usually saw her wear. She had another robe she sometmes wore, but this robe was the same purple color as her slippers.

Normally I prefer it when women wear open-toed slippers, which these were not. On the other hand, especially if one can see the wrinkles of a woman's soles on the side of the slippers, the desire to see those hidden toes seem that much more powerful. Debbie had worn these slippers for almost two years, I remembered, so they were well worn, and had perfect imprints of her feet inside them. Looking inside, I could even see her tow prints, and I wanted to feel them. I did. I reached in, and carefully felt every single impression of each of her toes. My cock started to get hard.

I'm not the kind of foot fetish guy who is into smelling feet as many of you are, but I felt compelled to put my nose into each of Debbie's slippers, and take some big whiffs. Sad to say for many of you who enjoy bad smelling feet, but I instead smelled the delightful fragrance of some kind of perfume. Or maybe it was just a fragrance of some kind of soap. It was marvelous, and I imagined having my nose pressed down upon Debbie's toes.

Suddenly I heard the distinct sound of the laundry room's door opening at the top of the stairs around the corner, and then the sounds of someone walking down the stairs. I panicked, quickly tossed Debbie's slippers in with the wash, closed the lid, and made a beeline back into my apartment. But before I could get inside, I heard Debbie's voice say, "Oh, hey. How's it going?"

"Fine,"
I stammered back. I quickly turned around as if I had just opened my door to leave rather than opened it to get back inside.

"That's strange," I heard Debbie say.

"What?" I asked.

"I could have sworn that I left my slippers down here," she said.

It was then that I noticed she was barefoot. "Uh, maybe you put them into the wash." I told her as my heart raced from seeing her bare feet.

"No, they didn't need washing," she explained as she opened the lid to the washing machine. Before I could say anything she added, "Ooops. I guess I did put them in." She looked at me strangely as if she knew that she hadn't put them in. But she was nonetheless friendly to me.

Still feeling flustered from the previous week's encounter with Debbie, the next week I was shocked to see a pair of Debbie's leather sandals lying on top of the washer. It was as if she had put them there to tempt me, or so I had wished in my perverted little mind. Her sandals were well worn, and it felt exciting to touch, and feel every single impression that she had made with her heels, toes, and parts of her soles that pressed down upon the leather. "I think I'm becoming a shoe fetishist," I thought to myself as I rubbed her sandals all over my face.

When I saw that Debbie had left her sandals in the laundry room for a third straight week, my perversion went into high gear. I started to fantasize that Debbie was leaving her sandals in the laundry room on purpose for my benefit. That's how perverted my mind had become. "But to what benefit is this to Debbie?" I asked myself.

My mind wandered to a deeper, and darker perversion that had always fascinated me. So rather than play with Debbie's sandals in the laundry room on that third week, I took them into my apartment with me so that I could be even more perverted with them. For quick action on my part, I left the door to my apartment open so that I could hear the door to the laundry room being opened, which would let me know that Debbie was on her way downstairs. I stripped myself naked on the bed, laid face down on her sandals, and with my eyes closed in a fantasy world of my own making, I began fucking her sandals as if Debbie herself was underneath me. In no time at all, I came into my bed, but luckily not onto her leather sandals, which I was sure would have left a stain.

A few minutes after cumming, I heard the laundry room's door open. I quickly jumped off the bed, put her sandals back, and returned behind the closed door of my apartment, at which point I could see Debbie walking into the laundry room through the peephole of my door. "Close call," I thought to myself. As she passed my door into the laundry room, I could have sworn that she looked towards my direction with a knowing smile on her face. Of course, I knew that even if she had looked over at my door, there was no way that she could have known what I had just been doing with her sandals.

On the fourth week, Debbie once again left her sandals in the landry room. Like the previous week, I took them into my apartment with me, and got naked with them on the bed. As I had done the week before,
I once again stripped myself naked on the bed, and laid face down on her sandals. I closed my eyes to imagine a naughty scene with Debbie's feet, but for some reason I couldn't concentrate that well without it being absolutely dark. Being in the basement, my apartment was darker than most, but with the door to my apartment open to make sure that I would hear Debbie coming back down the stairs into the laundry room, there was light shining into my place from the bare bulb just outside my door. I reached over to my nightstand, opened the drawer, and pulled out a sleep mask that I had used numerous times to take daytime naps. It was very effective, and gave me the kind of darkness that would help with my fantasizing.

I really didn't do much but gyrate a little upon Debbie's sandals. Most of the time I just laid still, and pictured in my mind Debbie's feet next to my mouth and tongue. I stretched my arms up towards the iron head board of my bed, and reached through its bars to hold onto the edge of the mattress. I stretched out my legs, too, until I could feel my toes almost reaching the end of the mattress. I have a king sized bed, so even with my arms stretched out above me, my toes barely met the end of the bed. It felt good to stretch out like that, especially with Debbie's sandals underneath my cock, which had grown in size from the pleasure of rubbing down upon the leather.

Without warning I heard a couple clicks of metal, and suddenly realized that someone had just handcuffed me to my bed's iron headboard. Whoever had done it was so swift in handcuffing me that I didn't really know what had happened until I was cuffed. I wasn't sure what to think, and instinctively tried to get up on my knees, but it was to no avail. Someone's body had just straddled my backside. "What are you doing?" I blurted out.

"What am I dong?" I heard a woman's voice say. "What are YOU doing with MY sandals."

The tone of voice was more amused than angry, which kind of caught me off guard. And I may not have recognized Debbie's voice right away, but I immediately knew it was her because she mentioned her sandals. In a flash I was mortified. I was also quite embarrassed to be completely naked in front of her. Has this been a fantasy, it surely would have been terrific. But this was for real, and I wasn't so sure how I felt about it. My cock did the talking for me.

"Look at how hard you are," Debbie said as she reached underneath me, and grabbed my cock.

I couldn't say a word. I really didn't know what to say.

"Cat got your tongue, huh?" She asked.

"Uhhh ..." I stammered, but was quickly interrupted.

"Nope! Better that you don't talk right now," she commanded with a smack against my ass.

"Owww!" I exclaimed in pain.

"Quiet!" She said quite firmly. Debbie seemed to mean business. "Hold on right there," she continued as she pulled off my sleep mask, and headed for my door. She closed it shut, locked it, and then sat on top of my backside again. "Listen," she said. "I've been watching you these last few weeks."

"But how?"
I interrupted.

She smacked my ass again, but I kept quiet. "It dawned on me that you have some kind of fetish for my shoes that first time you had me believe that I had put my slippers into the wash."

"You knew then?"
I asked.

She smacked my ass again. "Let me speak," she insisted.

"But ..." I tried to explain.

"But what?" She asked.

"But I don't have a shoe fetish," I told her.

"What?" She asked incredulously.

"I admit I have a foot fetish, but I don't have a shoe fetish," I corrected her.

"Oh," she said with some seriousness. "I didn't know that. So you have a foot fetish for MY feet?"

Oddly enough, I had suddenly become quite relaxed. I know it sounds strange, but I felt at ease with Debbie straddling me while I was handcuffed to the bed. So I answered her saying, "Yes, I do have a fetish for YOUR feet. They are amazing!"

"Thank you,"
she replied. She seemed genuinely pleased.

I don't know what got into me, but I blurted out, "So, do you have a spanking fetish?"

"I suppose I do,"
she said. "I never really thought about it." I turned my head more directly, and gave her a look of disbelief. "Seriously, I never gave it much thought. I really enjoy reading through trashy novels when there is a lot of spanking, though, so maybe I do have a fetish for it."

"Are you wet from spanking me?"
I asked with sincerity.

"Very!" She proclaimed. With glee in her voice, she then announced, "I have an idea."

She turned herself around so that she was facing away from me as she straddled my body. In this position she could easily, and comfortably shove her feet underneath my face, and be in a perfect position to give me a spanking. I wasn't at all fond of spanking; at least being spanked, but I wanted to see where this odd pairing of ours might lead. Besides, I loved having Debbie's wonderfully wrinkled soles pressed up against my face. But I wanted my hands free, too, so that I could totally devour her soles and toes.

"Do you mind?" I asked while pulling at my handcuffs.

"Oh sure," she replied as she unlocked my cuffs.

We remained in the same position for a while as I played with her soles, and she spanked me. But thankfully, just as my butt was getting pretty hot from getting spanked what I thought was too many times, Debbie asked if it would be all right if she could just lay there, and have me pleasure her feet. So I had her lay face down on my bed while I thoroughly enjoyed every inch of her wrinkled soles, and each of her toes, which I sucked for a long period of time.

Debbie was in my apartment for almost two hours before she realized that she should be getting on with the rest of her day. For a short bit things were uncomfortable near the end of our session before she left because we had to talk out what we had just done. We kind of agreed that we'd not only keep what we had done between ourselves (albeit anonymously to you at Great Feet), but that we would have foot fetish fun together each week when she would do her laundry. Nothing was set in stone. After all, she is married, and we do not have a relationship. Yes, it's sexual, but we do not have intercourse with each other.

That informal agreement between us was made months ago, and with few exceptions, I've pretty much had my way with Debbie's feet almost weekly. I do more than have her feet sexually, which is great for me, and oddly rewarding for Debbie. But for Debbie, which I enjoy doing for her, I actually give her really great foot massages that are long, and real. So she's happy. I'm happy. And everybody still gets to do their laundry at their scheduled times.

Surprisingly, even Debbie's husband knows about the foot massages I give her. She just hasn't gotten into the details of how I enjoy her feet. He's actually a pretty decent guy, and we figure that there's no compelling reason to let him know everything.

I should add that a couple of Debbie's girlfriends have come over with her so that I can give them foot massages, and each of them have come over more than once. Maybe I'll write about those encounters as well. The thing is, their foot massage sessions have never gotten sexual; at least not in their eyes. Still, for me it's all quite sexual because I lick their soles, and suck their toes, which they thoroughly look forward to enjoying. I just don't use my cock to play with their feet.

This story was submitted anonymously.

Feel free to submit your comments about this story in our free foot fetish chat forum.
To do this, just click here for the story section topic to make your comments public.

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