My Foot Fetishists Handbook
I mean it’s all from memory, mind you. All of the things that have happened in my life. So these are just a few notes that I wrote down, not to say that any of this will “resonate” with you. We are both foot fetishists, but so far apart, usually on how to “eat the cake”. I love you all though, I would not have built this site if it were not for all of your support through the years.
Topics i’ll be writing about, fun right? These are all of my thoughts relating to my life and past experiences. It’s not an “advice” column or any of that shit. I just figure that maybe some of you might relate on my past experiences to maybe make you better? …or not. Also it will mos def be a work in progress, so yah.
Getting “turned out” for the first time
I was “turned out” at the age of 9 years old, by my daycare teacher. “Turned out”, meaning that she was my first, she is the one that turned me into a foot fetishist. How did she do this? I was playing outside and I went inside to get a drink one day. I see Ms. Knowling with her legs crossed, in sheer pantyhose with a kid laying on the floor, sucking on her toes. She beckoned me with her finger with a smug look on her face, asking me if I wanted to “smell something good”. I took a quick peek at her other foot and her toes were wet with the saliva of the other kid I assume, who was now laying on the floor, sucking on Ms. Knowling’s other foot. I politely declined, thought that was it. It didn’t stop there.
With “nap time”, she would always sit directly in front of my cot and then she would put her pantyhosed feet on my face. Her feet stank. This was in south Texas in the 1970’s, mind you. She would look at me and tell me to “give it a minute” whilst rubbing her sweaty pantyhosed feet on my face. Looking back, she was referring to give it a minute so I would be comfortable with her foot odor. That’s how it started for me. All of this at a christian school. I don’t blame God for that. I’d actually like to think that I have a great relationship with God.
What is a “Primary”
My daycare teacher is my “primary”. She’s the one who turned me on to this deviancy. She is the one that rules all others in my world, my mind, my “jack off”. memories, my eternal queen. To this day, I prefer middle aged women that wear makeup and my taste for pantyhose is a direct reflection of the influence my primary had on me. Idk if in your case, you have idealized your primary to hell and back, but I have, I’ve always done it.
When I was in high school, there was a girl named Michelle that I had a huge crush on. Now I grew up poor, my parents could barely afford to take us to the dentist, so my teeth were yellowish. My glasses sucked because they were the very cheapest my mom could find. I was fat, my self esteem was more like self loathing. I couldn’t bare to ask her out and be rejected. She was the kind of girl that had lipstick on her teeth when she smiled, just the epitome of cute. Well we were both in choir class and our teacher had a get together at his house. This is also mid 80’s mind you, in fucking Oklahoma of all places, haha.
She was sitting behind me while we were all bullshitting around at our teachers house. She propped her feet up on my back. I could feel the warmth and moistness of her feet through my cotton t shirt. I turned around, made a face at her and …yeah. Ok so fast forward 20 years and I find her on facebook and friended her (she did not accept my request) and told her all about my crush on her feet. No response. So trying to rectify that in my mind led me to pursue all options. Even as a 50 something guy now, I still remember her and her feet like it was yesterday. In this situation, self forgiveness is key.
Afraid of the way her feet smell
I will have a big crush on a random girl and when I take her shoe off and get the initial blast of her pheromones, i’ll decide right then and there, almost sub consciously, how worship with her is gonna go. Also as fucking weird as it sounds, sometimes i’ll even “resent” the way her feet smell and will make a decision about her, based purely on her pheromones. Which isn’t fair to her at all. Sometimes when I’m jacking off, i’ll replace her scent with a scent that I just like better, you know? Regardless, I’ve missed some good opportunities because of this shit. Still pushing through.
Dating as a Foot Fetishist
God, with “ghosting”, “cat fishing” getting stood up and online dating apps having a reputation of being “cluster b disorder” central, it’s fucking rough out there already without being a foot fetishist. I’m always up front about my proclivities, as women say they want it, and why waste time, right? Rarely do I have someone pick me out and swipe right first off and that’s ok, ya know. It’s always been a mystery to me why women will let me fuck the devil out of them but as far as their feet, no pass, no go, haha. It’s an insecurity issue on their part. The problem most likely isn’t you, it’s just the world. I live in a city where the light will turn red and people will still be ripping though an intersection, not giving a fuck. I tend to think that the selfishness is subconscious at this point.
It’s really a delicious time in society’s history that we’re right here, right now with everything. Flip side, the circling of the drain is happening faster and faster as society spirals down. Over half the country (USA) is on psyche meds, the other half, lonely as hell and angry about it, “but hey, I’ve got 1000 followers on “name your social media site”. Fuck, so I’m completely up front, tell them on my profile that I am a foot fetishist, blah blah. I get lots of women who are curious about it. Some that know, but mostly not except from what they’ve seen from “50 shades of grey” or some other movie in the genre. It just fucking blows me away, I’ll see a woman walking down the street and I immediately want to be at her feet and on her ass. I don’t really even consider myself super kinky. To think that almost no guys get down like that is just kinda heartbreaking. They’ll never truly be worshipped. Oh the weight that the modern sexual deviant has to carry.
I am not the one that can hide what and who I am. I burn, burn, burn every single day of every single minute that I am alive. Passionless people are disgusting to me. You can be into lego building and shit, as long as you’re passionate, you understand what I am. Fetishists that are somehow miraculously are able to hide their preferred proclivities, Fucking bravo. But imho it’s cowardly because eventually you’ll cheat, you’ll break her fucking heart and what was a good relationship is just a hulking, smoldering mass that can never be rebuilt. I say front with your partner and if she or he freaks, they aren’t for you, dear dear footie.
Women today are not used to us. They feed off of scraps of intimacy and call it love. It’s not a nice story. You need to be gliding into that shit, don’t plop your balls down on the table, first thing, because it’s rude and nothing says “basic” like lack of manners. I probe, see what types of relationships that she’s experienced before anything deviant comes out of my mouth. It’s all sliding scale stuff like, “well her feet aren’t really pretty, but she has humongous tits tho, fetishistic brain weighs options, etc, etc. My only advice with this because now I’m just rambling, is be yourself. Fetishistic self validation will eventually make these decisions for you. Depending on how far down the rabbit hole you’ve already gone. And how much your particular perversion controls you.
People are superficial, they get their validation from fucking insta likes, really? I’m like 51, women my age do the same thing. People are selfish. No accountability anymore. Society spirals. Everyone’s fucking lost imho. It is always possible to find that true partner, but no one is perfect. Idk why people put stuff on their dating profiles like “if your a (Political affiliation) supporter, fuck off and die, swipe left, don’t like the color yellow? Too bad fuck, buy a “ball spreader” turn it to max. Yada yada. I’m a glass half empty kinda guy, so sorry. But the flesh, my fanatics, the flesh is oh so delicious. I have touched love, I have touched the face of God. I’m tired to being hurt. Tired of loving toxic women. Toxic women are fun though, but you just can’t get emotionally involved with them.
Hierarchy of a Foot Fetishist
I use the boolean principle in dating alot. Boolean Logic is a form of algebra which is centered around three simple words known as Boolean Operators: “Or,” “And,” and “Not”. At the heart of Boolean Logic is the idea that all values are either true or false. The words I put into them are feet big areolas or long labia. You can put whatever you want. The variable is her face (makeup, bone structure, ethnicity, lips, eyes, ears). I call women who are ok with me making out with their feet “Goddesses” because to me they are. I pay them, not much, but compensate 50-80 or so for “gas”. But I get to smell their feet as much as I want. I can suck on their callouses, no big deal, whatever. I’m not really into “foot jobs” so it’s all “ice cream without the calories”.
What I’m trying to say is that our network of women have tiers, Tier one is several octaves above my attractive range, meaning that I will meet them wherever, whenever to worship them. Whereas Tier four is like “the only thing I love, is the way her feet smell and omg are they so fucking beautiful. We all have some form of this, so not really big news, but figured it belonged here, regardless.
Women that are so fucking cool, they keep shit on the down low, they are pretty as fuck “girlie girls” to the max! Also with some of the stinkiest feet that I’ve ever experienced. They understand me, they are comfortable enough that they know I won’t go above the knee. And I never try to fuck them. Some will let me clean their exercisepussy hole with my mouth as I lay there, slurping up their cum. Those women are special. They talk to me the way I want, paint their toenails the way I want, wear the types of shoes that I want. Fetishistically, I love them all, oh so very deeply. We talk about whatever and hang out a little after, smoke a bowl or whatever. The reason I still believe in women are because of the Goddesses I’ve had in my life. I love them, and some of them say that they love me and that’s really all that matters.
The Foot Fetishist in 2022
I fear for you all, haha, just kidding. The market’s fresh and filled with fresh stock like loneliness, cluster b disorders, histrionic (validating yourself through others) bullshit. Money, Status and popularity rules the day. If you don’t want to date, you can rent. Everyone has a hustle now. I financially support my fair share. Don’t be lonely, dear fetishist, I’ll probably never meet any of you, but I love you. Why? Because I think that maybe you might understand me. All the madness that goes on inside our heads so many nights. But again, it’s all “sliding scale” stuff you know. You might have a passing fancy to women’s feet. Me, I live it, 24/7. I’ve had my ass kicked because of it, I’ve had my heart broken multiple times. I’ve had my soul ripped apart and then shown to me by so many fucking devils in my life. I assume some of you are “plugged in” to perversion 24/7? I drive a new car, have my studio, which some of you may know. All my shit is nice. Your body is so fucking important. Discipline. We know that word inside and out. If you look like shit, fix it! Discipline to exercise, even meditation. <It helps so much, trust me. Roll in something that personifies you. We are inherently submissive, but that doesn’t mean I have to just be pathetic. I’m an “alpha male” with dudes, just waiting for “the collar to click” with a pretty woman. You all have your own worlds in your heads. Superficiality fucking sucks, but it’s lure nonetheless. The quality of pussy you will get to worship directly reflects how you look. I’m sorry, but in 2022 nice guys lose. Fuck that. I’m a Leo, I just… blah, lol. Keep that tender part of you private, party people, it’s sacred. And if you ever stop believing in love, it’s not pure anymore, at least in my world. So don’t go there.