Cat Out of the Bag
(Posted on Sunday, September 9, 2001)
This story was submitted anonymously by SubtleGuy.

I'm not sure how most people realize their fetish. It's not the type of thing that you can really discuss with just anyone. In fact, I had several girlfriends who probably never had any idea that I had a thing for women's feet. I guess they just figured that I liked to give footrubs all of the time because I was just that nice of a guy.

For years I had decided to keep my fetish secret. I guess that I was waiting for a perfect opportunity to reveal it, and not before then. I didn't actually reveal it until after college, and it happened so torturously slowly that I was actually thankful when the truth was out in the open.

The whole thing began when I moved out of college. Circumstances required that I had to find a roommate quickly. By chance, I happened to hear that a girl named Shanda was looking for a roommate. Shanda was a swimmer in college who sported a deep tan in the summer that looked even more exceptional because she had such nice, smooth skin. She was about 5’6”, and had blonde hair and brown eyes.

I wasn’t planning on living with a female, so I was initially hesitant. I didn’t know the girl well, but we had mutual friends. One of these mutual friends said of Shanda, “She’s an awesome girl. A little weird, but a good person.”  The words, “a little weird” rung in my head for a while.

Another thing about Shanda that I always noticed is that she had meticulously painted toenails (frequently sparkling colors) and beautiful feet. Her smooth tan skin made her feet look extremely soft and feminine. Also, her swimming habits left her legs toned, with muscle, but not masculine. All in all, from the moment that her name came up as a potential roommate, I worried if my fetish would compromise the situation, if it ever happened. Yet I was curiously drawn to the possibility.

For whatever reason, I ended up moving in with Shanda in the top half of a house. We shared a kitchen, bathroom, and living room, and had our own bedrooms. Pretty close living. I would see her all of the time when we were in the apartment together, and I consciously tried to not peek down at her toes every time that I was near her. I knew that if I looked too often, she might catch on. Also, when you peek down at a girl’s feet, you can’t see her eyes. You have no way of knowing if she is seeing you peeking down.

The psychology of my fetish made things even more complicated. Afraid of embarrassment and possible ridicule or awkwardness, I wanted to hide my foot fetish. I was also, however, strangely captivated by the thought that she might discover my fetish, and somehow help me indulge it. I constantly fantasized about scenarios where she would discover my fetish, with both good and bad results.

After only about two weeks I was already paranoid that Shanda was keen to my obsession with her beautiful feet. Several times after stealing a glance at her toes, I would look back up to her face and she would give me crooked smile. I tried to pacify my fears by remembering that these smiles could be from anything. It didn’t help that she walked around barefoot all summer and frequently changed the color of her toes, almost twice a week. The colors changed from sparkling greens to candy reds to an intoxicating jet black.

I felt like I was way too conscious of her feet when she was around. If she were simply waiving her foot around while reclining on the couch my heart rate would climb and I would be constantly swallowing.  The tension was building like crazy.  My discomfort had to be obvious. Plus, it was summer, so it was difficult to hide the erection in my shorts.

Shanda took me off guard one day when I was watching television. She informed me that she was going to do her nails.  I knew that she didn’t paint her fingernails, but I felt the need to ask anyway. “Your fingers or your toes?”

“You know I only paint my toes,” she chuckled, which had to make me blush visibly.

My paranoia grew. I wondered, “Is she simply casually aware of my fetish? Is it simply a passing detail in our friendship?” The thought made me feel very petty.

She came out with a bag full of polishes and spread them on the coffee table. She continued, “What color do you like?”

My face felt hot. I couldn’t realistically imagine that this girl had figured out my fetish so soon, yet I still felt on the spot. Plus, I shuddered at the thought that I was able to decide on the polish to cover her beautiful toes. I managed the answer, “I dunno, what have you got?”

She showed me a burgundy, a sparkling green, and a white. She needlessly told me that she wore the green the most, since I already knew all too well. She asked me to choose for her.

Trying so hard to be cool, I replied, “Go with the white, I like the contrast.” I was referring to the contrast that the white polish would create against her dark tan.

She looked perplexed and asked, “What do you mean the contrast?”

Suddenly, I was flustered, especially since her feet were up on the table next to the polish, so I was not only allowed to stare at her feet, but also forced to. My erection grew suddenly and I shifted my position to hide it. I tried to explain my statement. “The white polish contrasts with your tan.  It looks good.”

She smiled back. “Thank you.” As she began painting, I watched her feet more than the television. In fact, I don’t even remember what I was watching. It was easy to stare because she was focused on her feet and didn't even notice.

She broke a long silence. “You want to try to paint a nail?”

Now I was visibly embarrassed. A small part of me wanted to just kiss her feet right there and give in to my now boiling lust. I didn’t, however, want to pass on this opportunity to paint her nails, yet I didn’t want to embarrass myself. Despite my raging libido, I was able to come up with a lucid plan. I told her that I had to go to the bathroom. There, I would masturbate to sate my passion, and then return and hopefully calmly enjoy painting her nails.

I managed to say, “Uh, I have to go hit the bathroom first. Save one of the big nails for me.”

She laughed as I left for the bathroom. I was so horny that it didn’t take me more than 30 seconds before I shot a load right into the toilet. After relieving myself, I returned to the living room much more under control.

Soon, I was there painting her toenails. Not only was I aroused and in heaven, but thanks to my trip to the bathroom, I was under control. Then she said something that sent a chill down my spine like nails against a chalkboard.

“Did you just beat off?”

I didn’t even need to answer. My shock was all over my face. I couldn't understand how she knew.

She continued, “I can see the lube between your fingers.”

Suddenly, the memory of my friend telling me that she was “weird” rung in my head. Only a girl who is a little weird would put together something like that so quickly. I shrugged admission.

She continued, “But you were only in there for a bit. How quick are you?”

I figured that she hadn’t yet busted me for the foot fetish as well. Her foot, which I was painting, was resting on my thigh inches from my now growing cock, which showed a more prominent hard-on. While I was entirely embarrassed already, she continued, “And you’re hard again? Is painting my nails turning you on or something?”

My face must have spoken volumes. Within a few seconds, I went from feigned confusion, to laughing it off, to surrender. Her face transformed to blush and shock. One hand slapped over her open mouth as she drew away from me on the couch. She almost screamed out, “Oh my God, you have a foot fetish, don’t you?”

I was absolutely mortified. My biggest secret of my life had gotten out to someone whom I needed to see every day. Furthermore, she was a girl whose feet had been the object of my obsessions for months.

I tried to do damage control. I spinned the situation. “Uh, I think that they’re cute. I don’t know why I’m turned on now. I just went with it. I don’t mean to offend you. Sorry.”

She cut through my bullshit. “I know what a foot fetish is. You’re not fooling me. Oh my God, have you been attracted to my feet the whole time that we've lived together?”

I tried total honesty. “Even before.” The confirmation shocked her more. I was surprised that my penis didn’t explode when her mood changed. I felt so exposed while I waited to see what her ultimate reaction would be.

She smiled wickedly. “Well, why don’t you finish my nails and tell me what you’d like to do to them.” Slowly, I became comfortable with the situation and poured my heart out. I told her that I wanted to fondle her feet with my hands, then lick every inch of her feet, have her tease me with her toes, and maybe touch them to my raging hard-on (to paraphrase).

She comforted my obvious fears. “Well, I love to have my feet touched, so this may work out well.” Also, when I mentioned footjobs, she stroked my penis with her other toes. When I finished her right foot, she told me, “Well, those nails have to dry, so don’t touch.”

I feared that I was going to have to wait an eternity to finally unleash my fetish. Then she said, “My left nails should be dry though.” She then extended her left foot to me, of which I couldn’t take my eyes off. “Why don’t you lick my foot for me. And let’s get some of those clothes off.”

I didn’t want to appear too eager, although my secret was out in the open. I figured that the better I made the situation for her, the more likely she would be to let me enjoy her feet again. I softly kissed each toe, then licked circles around the perimeter of each toenail. She smiled with pleasure. Then I put each toe into my mouth and ran my tongue back along the underside of her toes. On the second toe, I could feel the cold metal of the toe ring in sharp contrast to her warm flesh.

She purred a response. “Feeling your warm mouth on my toes makes me finally understand why guys like girls going down on them so much.” This response encouraged me more. She took her right foot and gently pressed the balls of her feet against the base of my cock, spreading her toes against it then pushing up (which made me gasp for air). Meanwhile, I licked the underside of her foot firmly, and she bit her bottom lip.

Soon I was alternately licking each foot, and she grabbed my cock with her hands. It didn’t take long before I exploded all over her. She giggled with pleasure. I apologized for not allowing her to finish.

She reassured me. “If what I’ve seen so far is any indication, I'll bet that we can get you going again in no time,” as she ran the tops of her toes up my torso. Immediately, I began to get hard again. She quipped, “Just like clockwork, huh?”

My only response was a half-growl, half chuckle.