My life as a foot lover

There is nothing I like more about women than their feet. There are men who prefer the tits, others who prefer the ass, there are even some men whose favorite part of a woman’s body is the hair. They may have their reasons but there is nothing I like more than the feet.

When I think of delicate feet with beautiful red-painted nails, I can’t stop what is inside my pants. I have always enjoyed the ladies’ feet so much that it is difficult for me to know when this taste began. But I do know when it got worse.

All my life I have been an austere and lonely man. I have no family or friends or partner. I have dedicated myself to being the best in my profession and taking walks in the mornings.

I like walks because they help me to think and relax me. There is a city park that I like more than the rest because of how quiet and lonely it is. The park is in front of a very old and abandoned building, where silence reigns. Sometimes I sit on a park bench to look at the building and imagine what it would feel like to make love with a woman wearing high heels in that darkness at the risk of a ghost appearing…

One of those days when I was sitting on that bench, I realized that construction work had begun on the old building. Far from bothering me, it caused me curiosity. I wanted to know what kind of trade would have the guts of settling in a site like that.

The construction work lasted about two months, where I sat on the same bench every day to continue fantasizing about fucking a woman with big high heels inside that construction, but while the masons were watching us…

Great was my surprise when that store opened its doors: it was a shoe store, but not just any shoe store, but one specialized in women’s heels with exclusive designs. Only the best of the best could buy heels in that store. The women who were going to try on shoes showed that they were well fed, that they had leisure time and that they were entirely dedicated to looking appetizing for their husbands. What I am sure that they did not know was that an obsessed man like me watched them from afar, with the morbidity of knowing that their bare feet were walking around the entire store, but with the rage of being too far away to see him head on.

As I did every day while they were repairing that place, I kept going in the mornings to sit on the bench and watch, but my fantasies were different and were better supported. I imagined myself fucking the bare feet of all those groomed nail women who were going to that place. I imagined myself cumming on the feet of each and every one of them.

Sometimes, when I felt I was completely alone in the park, I secretly masturbated. That was so delicious… I reached inside my shirt and carefully pulled the penis from my pants to rub it gently, while giving me pleasure and giving free rein to my fantasies, women tried on heels after heels and the store billed thousands of dollars. It was all delightful.

Some shoes were more bought than the others. All the women who went took a pair and the shop windows were filled with mannequins that used them. These shoes were black, with heels as sharp as a knife. These shoes were so incredible that they would make any woman’s legs look like the legs of the aphrodite goddess. While the women in the stores tried them on, I kept touching me to the rhythm of their steps. I was at the top of my pleasure.

But in the same way that the store was successful, everything went down, closing its doors overnight. One day I returned to the park and everything was closed. Day after day I went back to the same bench and nothing.

Since then, I can’t control myself. I can not say when my love of high heels began but I can say that since that store closed, I have no escape from the demons that make me look at the feet of the ladies I see everyday in the Street, waiting for the night to be able to play with myself while I remember them.