Chapter 1:
The Bet that placed her foot in my mouth
'IF YOU LOSE, you will have to kiss my feet,' Melly smirked and lifted her legs.
She wiggled her toes in my face and then plopped her feet back to the floor to patter them with giggling excitement.
The gathering laughed while I scoffed. I rolled my eyes, pretending to be appalled by her suggestion but deep inside me things were happening.
It was a combination of everything at the same time. The way she said it unleashed my imagination but then the casual way of just raising her limbs and demonstrating her soles, right in my face, while everyone else was staring and also collecting data for their future solo sessions, filled my mouth with saliva.
Was I projecting my feelings onto others?
Could be, but I spotted several longer gazes sliding up and down her naked legs.
Melly was this short, adorable thing. Twenty-two years of age. She had long dark crimson hair that she collected in a messy bun on the top. She left the rest of her hair to dangle on her back and shoulders. The young woman had big glasses with black frames and she positioned them perfectly on her nose. She didn't jam them all the way to the ridge but maintained them close to the middle. They accentuated her eyes, helped her see, and avoided giving her a dorkish look. Behind the glasses, her big green eyes glimmered with a suggestive sparkle. Small puffy lips and a round chin blessed her with this innocent young look that clashed with her more daring actions.
As a petite girl, she had delicate cute feet. Her round toes, polished with burgundy color, were now the center of attention. I saw how the heads around me followed the raising of her feet and then the slamming of her heels on the floor. They watched as she drummed her toes and finally, the eyes jumped back to see what my expression was.
I did the expected theatrics of finding her offer beyond unacceptable but my brain was working overtime to imprint every small detail of her feet to my mind. It was nothing more than a snap in time. It took less than a millisecond but I scanned the soles of her feet and then the top of her bare feet and managed to hold onto the subtle intricacies of what was presented to me.
Alas, I had to admit to myself. I was one of the women who were not repulsed by the idea of having feet in their mouths. However, I had to act. There was no time to ponder my fetishes. I had a bet to purposefully lose.
'And what if I win?' I said and slurped on my drink.
'Then, she can kiss your feet,' Sandra shrugged.
Probably some of the guys were thinking the same thing but didn't feel appropriate to suggest it out loud. The fact it came from another woman made it seem like no big deal. Nothing sexual about it.
Yeah… sure…
'Yeah… I don't want her filthy mouth down there on me,' I grinned.
The double meaning and the double whammy of suggesting that the mouth was dirtier than the foot and also the inclination of a woman going down on another woman was lost on no one but nobody here knew my preferences for the female gender, so most of the audience, hopefully, brushed it aside.
As you could already tell, I was too concerned with what others thought. I wanted to keep my personal life private. I was not the type to hog the spotlight and demand all the attention. But I also refused to be the butt of every joke and knew how to navigate seemingly tense situations that had the potential to make me look like an ass. So, ending up discussing a silly bet where the loser was supposed to kiss the feet of the other, in the middle of a house party, should have been the type of scenario I avoided like the plague.
Yet, Melly's charm worked on me. She wore torn shorts that did little to cover the lower part of her buttocks and a form-fitting pale pink crop. She didn't have the biggest of boobs – the push-up bra was doing the heavy lifting and, for the night, a respectable cleavage lived underneath her chin.
'OK, we can do that,' I said.
My agreement was met with cheers. There were close to a dozen people around. All of us were a bit tipsy and the summer heat sprinkled every brow in the vicinity with sweat. But the moment I uttered the words, a cool chill cut across my spine while a wild torrid sensation took possession of my loins.
I was wrong, of course. The bet was about a field I had no real knowledge of. It started with me teasing somebody, Melly heard it, she jokingly joined the conversation and things escalated before I could back down.
This was how I ended up on my knees in front of her. I was in the middle of a circle of people, all holding glasses, thankfully nobody had their phone out yet. I had to perform for them. So, I donned a forced grimace of disgust on my face and lowered my head.
What was happening in my head was drastically different to the reality. I expected to be met with a whiff of something. Probably sweaty rubber or anything that people connect with feet. I also thought some sort of perfume would be tossed in the mix. It was just skin. There was a faint odor but not the type associated with bare feet. I also imagined myself licking and sucking on her toes. I was ready to receive a facial massage from her soles. None of that happened!
My lips barely tapped the top of Melly's left foot. My chin didn't reach her toes. It was quick and anticlimactic. But that made it all the more appealing to the viewers. They cheered and clapped. Seeing me pay for my ignorance, but also looking like I suffered for it, was everything that they needed. At the end of the night, I was the only one NOT getting what they wanted.
Melly left long before I did. Sandra and I were among the very few people who remained. We were there mostly to pretend like we wanted to help with the cleaning but the hosts were shagging in the next room, so there was nobody to see us cosplaying as better people.
The two of us finished on the couch. The glass table, littered with leftovers, empty glasses, and bottles enticed us both and we stretched our legs on top of it. Our bare feet landed on the smooth surface with a clink. Our soles and drunk faces were reflected to us by the massive black TV screen.
If this were Melly, I would have been excited. With Sandra, I didn't feel anything. We were both barefooted and it was the same as if I was talking about our hands;
things that are always exposed and we allow everyone to touch them.
There was no spark behind it. Just parts of bodies – something that was beyond mundane. And this was how I felt about feet for the longest time. Something useful but not a zone of interest. A part of the body that was easy to ignore. An area that was best left to the peripheral vision. Focusing on it always meant something vile was happening. Either lack of hygiene or someone was being creepy. This was how I thought about them.
Melly changed that!
She had the perfect feet. Small, delicate, with no smell, and clean. And looking at my grippers and the crooked feet of Sandra next to mine, I decided I needed to match that look.
Being taller than average, I had a sizable foot. Thankfully, I didn't ruin my feet with my shoes. I mostly wore flats and from an early age, I was walking barefoot. This meant I didn't have the most collected and cute feet and the spread was on the wider side. But I also had a strong foundation and the shape of my foot was presentable. My big toe was slightly bigger than I would have wanted and I was able to stretch my last two toes way more than I needed but they were round, with short nails and the shedding of skin on my soles was barely noticeable. All in all, average female feet that I didn't mind showing to the world. There was nothing wrong with them and I was spared the judgmental stares coming from other women.
Sandra was working with less, way less. She had bunions thanks to her love of high heels and her toes were blocky and long. Her nails were also extending way too much from their beds and she could definitely do some work on her cracked heels. Probably a proper foot fetishist would have considered her feet the best. They had character and were big enough to claim a male size shoes but thanks to Melly I discovered the type of feet that made my vagina drool.
Feeling the arousal rising at alarming rates, I hugged the woman and left the party. Since I was feeling this urge thanks to my newly discovered fascination with feet, I decided to focus on their experience for a while. I took my sandals in hand and walked to my car with naked soles. The grass on our hosts' lawn was soft and with the help of the early morning dew, it cooled me down a bit. However, the relaxing effect only lingered in my legs. My midsection was desperate for a more direct and dedicated touch.
Once I was in my car, I stepped on the pedals and the rough surface, scraping against the bottom of my feet, sobered me up even more. I sighed and refused to flip the keys. I sat there feeling silly. An itch on the ball of my left foot took my attention away from my burning loins and lazily I dragged my sole against the clutch.
A knock on my window startled me and I screamed.
Sandra's big eyes and tin lips wore the mask of extreme concern and disappointment. I rolled down the window and nodded.
'I am not driving,' dropped from my lips.
I pulled out my phone and ordered a cab.
'Good,' she squinted her eyes and went back inside the house.
I watched as she marched and my eyes were glued to her dark soles cutting through the green grass. From a certain angle, even her abused feet were alluring to me. So, I liked barefoot women and the idea of their feet just being exposed aroused me. But I had more to say, way more, when it came to the actual shape and the type of foot I wanted to press against my pussy.
The Uber was driven by a woman in her early forties. Her judgmental stare shivered me to the core. Here I was, with my sandals in hand, wearing a dress that barely covered my thighs and drunk eyes that were rolling freely around their orbits looking in different directions. At this moment I considered the fact that many people must have seen my ass when I kissed Melly's feet. I giggled and with an ashamed look that was there mostly to appease a woman that had to work at four in the morning while some stupid young bitch was partying during the middle of the week, I slouched on the back seat.
'There is a plastic bag at the back of my seat if you need it,' she said with a tired tone.
'Thank you.'
I felt I needed to say something more; to express my gratitude in a more explicit way but I had no idea what else I could add. This made me feel like a schoolgirl caught doing something stupid and the awkward ride home afterward.
Realizing how silly I was acting; I glued my forehead to the window and reenacted every 90's rock power ballad music video.
At home, I dropped my shoes with a loud thud and my dress followed suit – after a minute of fighting with it. My sweaty skin refused to separate from the fabric and it took considerable puffing and cursing to escape the clutches of the evil clothing.
I wore a laced black thong and an expensive bra with a transparent mesh that did little to cover my nipples. An overkill on reflection. I didn't plan, or to be more precise, didn't expect to find a willing woman to go down on me tonight. Especially when I was actively hiding the fact I was a lesbian.
But looking nice is better than feeling comfortable…
Anyway, I dragged myself to the bed and dropped like a wet rag. I kept my blackened feet away from the edge and didn't care about the monsters that could pull me beneath the mattress. Just like the most memorable situation of this night started, I drifted to the land of dreams with thoughts about bare feet. This time, mine, how filthy they were and how tentacles made of smoke wrapped around my ankles and pulled me into another dimension.
Chapter 1.5:
My bare feet and I
MY MOUTH WAS DRY. It felt as if I had been eating peanut butter while chewing bubblegum. It was sticky and slimy there and I needed to wash the nasty taste down.
My FEET… heh, those feet again. I'd never been more aware of their presence and how much I relied on them. In the past, I've used them as grounding point but it was always a figure of speech.
Drop the bag at my feet, it landed at my feet, put it at your feet, etc…
I never actually visualized feet when I was saying it. I was not seeing boots, sneakers, or toes when I was saying it. It was just words. But now, I was actively thinking of their shape and the sensations my soles were communicating with my brain.
So, my feet dropped from the bed and slapped with a moist sound on the cool wooden floor. I wiggled my toes, just like Melly did, and stared at them. I needed a pedicure. I needed someone to pamper them. This might have been the first time I ever truly took notice of them, on a deeper level if you will.
It was not like when I was washing my feet and carefully rubbing between the toes. On those occasions, I was just making sure everything was clean. The same was true when I was clipping my nails. During those activities, I was not paying full attention. I noticed blemishes or patches of skin peeling. I noticed the dirt that needed to be removed. But I couldn't say I saw my feet. I took care of them but I didn't show interest in them.
Now, sitting on the edge of the bed, feeling I could last a lifetime in this position, forgetting about anything that existed beyond the walls of my bedroom, I watched my feet and studied them like never before.
Initially, I felt self-conscious. This was ridiculous,
what was I doing? But it didn't take long for this feeling to dissolve and a new one came to the forefront. Curiosity and excitement. I wondered if other people saw my feet in a sexual way. After that door was opened, the questions flooded my scrambled brain.
Would they be willing to play with them in a more sensual way?
And what would they want them to look like?
Should I keep them fresh and clean, just like Melly?
Or should I offer them the way they were now, with their blackened soles and unpainted toes?
I climbed my left foot on my knee and pulled my toes back. The skin of my sweaty sole stretched and pink crinkles emerged through the dirty layer that coated the bottom of my feet. My ball was soft to the touch but my fingertip also got dusty by dragging it across. The gentle caress was both enticing and itchy. Then I discovered I was not blinking and my mouth was gaping. A thin stream of saliva was hanging from my lower lip. I slurped it and brushed my mouth with the back of my hand. I needed to move my ass before I declared myself a complete retard.
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