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Feet 201 (two young)

JenSorel

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Sep 17, 2005
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Feet 201 (two young)​



baby slow down
the end is not as fun as the start
please stay a child somewhere in your heart​



More elementary lessons in feet...


The first time ever I saw my feet, the first time I ever really noticed them, the first time I acknowledged their allure, considered their appeal, thought them cute, deemed them my finest features, I was young.

Too young.

I noticed them some random afternoon, in the time just after I stopped playing outside, in the years just before I began frolicking inside. I noticed them like one notices they are in need of a haircut or maybe in need of a new wardrobe. I assessed them like one assesses their figure just prior to bikini season or their tan just after a day in the sun.

That random afternoon, sitting on the edge of my bed, my heels digging into my comforter and mattress, my toes hanging in midair, I took notice. I took notice of my feet. Took notice of these feet. My slender little feet. Almost pretty. Almost elegant. Somewhat tempting. Somewhat arresting. Just something so.

Like I said I was too young. Too young to get it, too young to understand, too young to comprehend. It was a day and age brimming with almosts and somewhats, a time filled with a little self-doubt and a lot of modesty, a time well before any confidence or bravado.

I looked at my feet and essentially saw just a body part. Nothing more, nothing less. That thought here and now makes me grin. I stared and assessed, fanning my toes, wiggling them, bending them, scrunching them. That activity then and there made me grin.

I remember feeling something between spontaneity and nostalgia, something between affection and ambivalence. The look of them instilled me with inspiration, almost aspiration, something between silliness and sensuality. Am I making sense? Maybe you had to be there? Maybe you just have to be in my shoes, or, in this case, out of them.

What I’m saying is, I just didn’t know. Back then, I didn’t know because I hadn’t realized. Yet. It was before my time, yet I was nurturing within. I was a few years from diving into sexual activities, but was presently swimming in my own brimming sexuality.

Best of times, worst of times. The life of a teenager.

That day, I assessed myself, head to toes. I was tough on myself. My face, my smile, my teeth, cheeks and hair. I assessed my frame, my figure, my skin, all of me, nose to toes. I evaluated my behind, my thighs, my calves, shoulders, neck, chest, stomach, back, waist and then my feet. I assessed it all and actually gave the highest marks to my feet, my toes, my arches and my soles, unconscious of my own aspiring fetish burning within, unaware of this transpiring connection to my finest features.

I gave the highest marks to my feet, these feet, and laughed, almost cried, that the best part of me was wasted on something so far away from what mattered.

Like I said, too young. Too damn young.

Back then, of course, I did not realize that my feet could be attractive, should be attractive, were attractive. Truth be told, I was never ashamed of any part of me, especially my feet, and, in fact, back then I highly enjoyed being barefoot, used to shuck my shoes whenever I could, everything from my Saddle Shoes to Wimzees, Topsiders to Penny Loafers, Tretorns to Candies. After school they all came off the minute I was inside my home.

Looking back, it’s funny. I frolicked sands shoes before I frolicked sans shoes.

Whenever I was around others, others I now realize I was attracted to, whether male or female, I used to slip off my shoes so I could use them, my feet, these feet, touch with them, tap those chosen ones under tables and desks, across couches, over lengths of carpet between us, in class, at lunch, at parties, sleepovers, dances, whenever, wherever. I slipped off my little girl shoes so I could use my feet like hands. It was an unconscious reflex, something I fully understand now, but didn’t come close to grasping back them.

Looking back, it’s funny. I was flirting before I knew what flirting was, was playing footsie before I even knew the rules of the game.

Quite often, in classrooms, in libraries, whenever I was isolated, I shucked my shoes, slipped my little feet out of my shoes for no reason other than to free them. It’s just something I did. I used to free my feet, let them breathe, sometimes barefoot, often in socks, sometimes in tights, regardless, it always felt invigorating, always made me perk up as I dangled my legs, stretched, unconsciously displaying and showing off what I was not ashamed of, but what I did not know yet was desirable, what I deemed cute, but what I couldn’t yet fathom as sexy.

I stretched my legs, curled my feet. Crossed my legs, dangled a shoe. Sat on my legs, rocked on my foot. Crossed my ankles, glided foot over foot. I did it all, just like I do today, albeit innocently, all unknowingly.

Looking back now, it’s funny. It was show and tell, even though there was no telling what I was showing was of interested. Yet.

Just didn’t know it. Yet.


Yet. That word at this juncture in the story actually makes me smile, makes me blush.

Makes me remember certain things, certain times, certain people. Pivotal things, pivotal times, pivotal people. Quite suddenly that little girl perched on the edge of the bed found herself perched on the edge of adulthood, found herself growing, learning, exploring. Funny how it all happens, so fast, so fun, so by chance.

Nothing remotely funny about that.

Yes, quite suddenly yet became before.

It happened one afternoon, one enlightening afternoon. I was in college, just a freshman. I was young, but not too young this time. I was ready, eager, about to be invited into a brave new world.

That enlightening afternoon, someone showed me. Guided me. Opened my eyes.

That enlightening afternoon, someone showed me that the sight of my feet, the feel of my feet, the smell of them, the taste of them, and the sound of them can be, is, and, most importantly, always was desirable, exciting, sexy, sensual, sexual.

Always was. Just didn’t know. Before.

Before someone showed me this, opened my eyes to this, I was oblivious. I could have stared at the equation forever, but might have never solved the problem, could have stared at the painting on the wall endlessly, but might have never understood the beauty, could have comprehended the words without end, but might have never heard the poetry.

Might have. Thank god I avoided a life of might-haves.

I found someone, someone special. Someone found me, meant-to-be. I found a teacher. Thank god I found a teacher.

That one afternoon my someone took my feet into his hands and showered them with love and devotion, affection and enthusiasm. He thought my feet were pretty, nobody ever told me that before. He thought my feet were attractive, said he was unable to contain his desire. He referred to them as perfect, be still my young heart. He held them, undressed them, massaged them, tickled them, kissed them, licked them, tasted them, sucked on them. He made love to them. My first time. The best of times, only, definitely, undeniably, the very best of times.

My heart beating a million times a minute, his tongue slipping in between my chaste toes, gliding across my virgin soles. Us, a match made in heaven, bliss discovered at the foot of the bed, solemates getting to know each other over and over and over.

He made love to all of me, nose to toes, again and again and again. He whispered to me, told me my feet were as pretty as the rest of me, as perfect as the all of me and, quite suddenly, that afternoon I was no longer that young girl perched on her bed, assessing herself, I was this vibrant young woman asserting herself, enjoying herself, finding herself one memorable step at a time.

That boy, that young man showed me something I did not know about myself, because he was confident enough in himself, in his desires, in his needs to share them with me, to request them of me, to fulfill them with me.

For that, I am forever thankful. For that, I was forever changed. For that, I know what I know, I do what I do, I am who I am. I frolic sans shoes, fully aware of why I love to do so. In public, I cross my long legs and dangle my designer heels from my pedicured toes, advertising what I know is sexy as hell. I slip off my shoes in restaurants, at parties, in movies, wherever, whenever, so I can touch those close to me with my finest features, so I can tickle and entice, play footsie, enjoy this foreplay all day. I slide my size sevens out of my shoes whenever I can, because I know they are desirable, exciting, sexy, sensual, sexual.

I do all this because I know. I now know.


I want the lot of what you got
and I want nothing that you’re not​


There’s a reason I’m telling you all of this. With out that, without my someone special, without the enlightenment of that wonderful afternoon, I may have never known, might never have discovered the joys to be found, explored, realized at the foot of the bed.

If I didn’t find him, if he didn’t find me, I wonder if I might have bee so lucky to have met another soul brave enough to show me, guide me, to open my eyes. I might have been denied of that, denied of all of this, because I now know the majority, the masses, you yourself hide these desires, fear these desires, shame these desires.

What’s wrong with you people? I’m here today to ask you that, and I am not asking what’s wrong with you because you desire feet. I am asking what’s wrong with you because you hide the fact you desire feet.

That very thought makes me mad, makes me want to teach all the joys I am so very thankful to know. Let me show you, guide you, open your eyes…

I say let go, be free, shuck the shoes, explore your desires at the foot of the bed, hold them, undressed them, massage them, tickle them, kiss them, lick them, taste them, suck on them. Make love to them. Make love to her. All of her. Explore, nose to toes. Be yourself. Enjoy yourself. Enjoy her. Show her. Guide her. Take her by the foot. Open her eyes. Find. Explore. Realize. At the foot of the bed. Awaken her toes, ignite her soles, enlighten her, make her come with you, along with you, over and over and over.

You will thank yourself. Trust me. And if she thanks you, well, then match made in heaven, bliss found at the foot of the bed, solemates.


everywhere you go you shout it
you don’t have to be shy about it​


I was too young once. Felt it, just didn’t realize it. Yet. Then yet became before and all that came before suddenly made so much sense. All it took was a little toesucking. Imagine that. Just a little sweet and innocent toesucking.

Imagine that.

Basking in that enlightening afternoon, little did I know what was to come. Little did I know where these feet would take me. Little did I know how much I would enjoy it all, every step of the way. Not somewhat, no almost, no just so, but absolutely, positively, without-a-doubt love, love, love every single step of the way. These feet. My feet. This desire. This fetish. Love. It. So.

Said it before, say it again, I’m so very thankful for all of this.

You should be too. You should be two. Now go find her…





Bring JenSorel home in 2007.
Stay tuned for an exciting announcement.
JS --​
 
This is a wonderful post. I wish all women were aware of the erotic potential of their feet, as you clearly are. :D
 
Hi Jensorel,
You don't know me, I wish you did but I'm TickleSlave07 here in the forum. And the truth I really do enjoy what you said about your feet.
Sorry I'm a guy with a massive foot fetish that would love touching kissing licking and admiring bare feet like yours.
You'd seriously have a slave to worship them massage them and even caress them.

My fasination with ladies bare feet started as a boy at the beach with my parents. I'd almost be hypnoticly entranced by their uniqueness and sexiness about them.
In closing just let me say if your ever interested in a slave to give your sexy feet some well desearved attention just look me up.
Either with an IM on Aol Or Messenger

On Aol I'm EddieJames07 and my E-mail is [email protected]
Or Yahoo Messenger I'm bksh_jms and my e-mail is [email protected] either way I'd honestly love to your devoted bare foot slave.
TickleSlave07
A.K.A. James :wavingguy
 
Wow! That was uplifting. A whole new level of foot story. Bravo I say. Bravo. Encore, Encore!
 
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