foot fetish ~ The pure admiration or sexual attraction of barefeet [sic]. Usually pertaining to men who can become sexually aroused from the sight of any part of women’s feet (including, toes, arches and soles. ~ Urban Dictionary
I get that some people like to lick and suck other people’s toes. I get that some people like to have that done to their feet. I definitely get the appeal of sexy shoes, and what high heels do to a woman’s body. And I get that there’s a whole world of footplay. There are many kinds of love, so why not foot love? Go for it. Love them feet.
What I don’t get is why MY feet in particular. My feet are not cute. I don’t have the time / money / motivation to keep up with regular pedicures, so I slap on nail polish every now and again to cover up the chipped spots. I’ve had buniony things on the sides of my feet since I was born, regularly wearing holes through the sides of my shoes. I’m vaguely pigeon-toed, and even more so when I am tired. My fourth toes on each foot are hammer toes. I love sexy shoes, so I usually have an assortment of blisters from cruel straps and stiff leather. My skin is transluscent, so you can see all my blue and purple veins. Hair grows out of my big toes, but I rip that shit out as soon as I see some sprouts. When I wear socks, I get toejam between my toes. To top it off, I’m a runner, so I have yet more blisters and callouses from running; sometimes my entire heels are two giant black blood blisters. I have had one non-foot fetish guy ask me in abject fear after running 10k, “What the HELL is wrong with your heels?” A lot of times, I have so many blisters, it looks like someone took a cigar and randomly burned my feet. I’m not gonna lie and there’s no need to exaggerate: my feet are flat out horror stories. All of which is to ask: WHY do people want to put my feet in their mouth?
Admittedly, I’m probably not as careful about putting things in my mouth as I should be — for example, if I see an unidentified bit of something on my kitchen counter and it does not have legs, I usually stick it in my mouth to see what it is — but seriously, would YOU want to put my feet in your mouth based on my description above? I would think even the most cursory glance at my feet would make one head north to more delectable body parts.
My feet just are not sexy. There’s this one old Eddie Murphy movie, back when he was still raunchy-funny, not family-funny like now, and he’s getting all sexytime with this woman until he catches a glimpse of her toes and flips out, shrieking “Hammertime!” That’s kind of my biggest sexual fear right there. I have to wonder, is there a whole Ugly Foot Fetish, similar to how some people are sexually attracted to, say, the morbidly obese?
Because here’s the thing: over the past however many months, fully three different people have gone all oral on my feet. Why? Why!?!?! The first one, I vaguely understand. I was wearing some beautiful sandals and had just had one of the maybe five pedicures of my life. However, I’d also been walking around the city beforehand… and look, word to the wise, do not put city walkin’, be-sandaled feet in your mouth unless you want to get seriously sick. Have you not seen what covers the sidewalks of San Francisco?
I admit, though, he had great technique. He was a pressure-point massage therapist (and also, I suspect, a gay demon, but that is neither here nor there), so he knew his way around feetie anatomy and feetie erogenous zones. I would’ve gladly let him put my foot in his butt by the time he was done; he was that good with the foot. As a seduction method, an amazing foot massage and a few well-placed kisses with tongue pressure does the trick. Note this, guys. Seriously. Look it up and USE it.
The other two, however, were just like full-on foot molestation. There was no lead in, no finesse, and, evidently, no inspection of my feet before said oral-podiatral contact. My feet were just hanging out, minding their own business, trying to be unobtrusive, and then suddenly they were in the mouths of scavengers. And you might think, that once these scavengers realized they were sucking and/or chewing on skin-shedding and/or leaking blisters that they might spit out my feet, but no. No, my friends (to channel my non-existent inner John McCain), they did NOT spit out my feet but kept going! And not up my legs or to anywhere more interesting, but they stayed remained focused on my feet.
So I ask you, foot fetishists, what. the. fuck??!?!