Summer 1986

I was all about doing the foot fetish thing when I was in high school, back in the late 80’s.  In particular, the Summer of 1986 was a pretty special one.  I was in California back then, going to public school in Los Angeles.  I was working at a grocery store and I was awkward.  I think because it was a mixture of puberty and also the fact that I was really into female feet.  I was open about it.  I though “well if they already think that I’m a freak, then fuck it.”  I just didn’t care.

My friend Brandon was a very cool guy with a canary yellow 69 Firebird.  It has the Kenwood chrome plated 6×9’s that were popular back then.  And all that he played was Ratt.  We would go cruising around on the weekends, getting into shit, you know, stupid stuff that high school students did.  His sister was a major flirt.  We will call her Tasha for this story.  She was a junior cheerleader for the school that I was going to.  She had that classic 80’s look, you know, the bright blue eyeshadow, with the coca-cola sweatshirts and legwarmers.  She always used to wear hot pink flats.  She also was constantly blowing bubbles with her chewing gum, as a matter of fact, I never saw her without her smacking up a storm.

She knew that I had a crush on this chick Michelle that was in my choir class.  Man, she had the feet of an angel, size 9.5, wide toenail beds and they were always painted.  The thing that I loved the most though, was the length of her toenails were perfect.  Just a smidge over the end of her big toe.  They would sparkle in class and I regularly got chastised by my teacher who thought I was a stoner, when in fact, I had not even tried pot yet.  I was just starting at her feet and every other girl in class that wore open toed shoes, or watched the other chicks that played with their flats with their feet while in class.

I was into play for pay, without even knowing it.  I paid cheerleaders to smell their feet after practice with the strict policy that they don’t tell anyone.  My reputation, well… whatever reputation that I had would have been ruined if word got out that I was into women’s feet.  ESPECIALLY if they knew that I was all about smelling them when they were slick with sweat.  Tasha had an idea about this.  And I had already kissed her feet a couple of times.  Her brother didn’t care.  He was like “fuck it man, do what you do”.  Now Brandon was the kind of kid that he would sell anything that could be sold, and not get in trouble for it.  Porn mags for 5 bucks.  I guess his dad threw them away every year to keep his stash, at least size wise, on the low.  So it wasn’t missed.  He sold weed and doubled the price of it.  That guy was a hustler.  So in his mind, I guess he thought “well if my sister is making money and my friends not fucking her, it’s a win for everyone.”

So Tasha came over one afternoon and was like “I will totally introduce you to Michelle.  I have been telling her that you pay me to smell my feet, and she seemed curious.”  I’m thinking, “But I have to do something for you as well huh.”  She saw that expression and nodded her head, yes.  I knew what was coming next.  She slipped her flats off and put both of them on my face.  It was freaking August and the smell hit me like a mac truck.  Her soles were hot and wet.  Her feet were always salty.  But this afternoon, they were especially putrid.  Let me tell you one thing about women’s feet, if they sweat alot.  You have to ease into the worship.  If it’s too much essence for me, I will look at that pretty smiling face for some sort of mental strength as her scent, very quickly envelops my head and everything chest up.  That is what I did and after 5 minutes, she was like “ok, I’ll hook you guys up.”  She giggled and left without saying another word.  I walked to the door, still, kinda floored by the massive amount of sweat this girl exuded and caught a blurry glimpse, of her peeling out in her Pontiac Fiero with what I think, was a Dokken song, blaring in the late afternoon haze, that was L.A. in the late 80’s.


…Story to be continued.

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