15/11/2025
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Throughout my life, from adolescence through puberty, into adulthood, I've always been very protective and secretive about my foot fe**sh. I don't know why, but I've always been afraid of being teased and shamed for it. Don't get me wrong. I've always accepted it and knew it was a part of me, but I never felt it was "normal." I've always known I had a foot fe**sh, even when I was young. I didn't know exactly what it was, but I've always been fascinated and attracted to women's feet. Over the years as I've grown and matured, I've realized that what I have is a foot fe**sh. What makes it worse?
It's mostly my attraction to women I know. My mother, my cousin Dee, several former babysitters, several former teachers, and many other women have been influential in developing my foot fe**sh. When I say I've been protective and secretive, I mean it. I can count on one hand the number of women I've actually told "I have a foot fe**sh" to. That said, I'm sure some women knew, but I never admitted it. As I said before, I've never been ashamed of the fact that I have a foot fe**sh, I'm more ashamed of who I have a foot fe**sh with. However, when I'm aroused, the shame obviously subsides.
That brings us to an experience with a former teacher. That teacher involved Ms. Liz Rogers. Ms. Rogers was my sixth-grade science teacher. She stood, I think she was 5'6" tall, with faded red hair. She was a strict teacher, but her overall personality was very positive. For example, because I was lazy, I turned in some assignments late, and my grade dropped to a C. I made up the assignments, even though she obviously didn't want to accept them. I brought them to her privately and said, "I know you won't accept this, but please take it." I also apologized for not doing them when I was supposed to. When my grades finally came out, she gave me a B+. So, even though she could be a bit strict with her teaching, I knew she was cool. Plus, I definitely liked her feet. If I had to describe them, they would be a more mature version of '' feet. Her feet never looked like they had a dry spot on them. And her toenails were painted red or n**e. Since she was a science teacher, there weren't many places in the classroom to see her feet clearly. She stood behind a desk or worked on the side, preventing me from seeing her feet clearly. I never missed an opportunity to stare at her feet.
Considering I was in sixth grade, I was entering a pretty intense hormonal period. However, obviously, due to my age and reality, nothing was ever going to happen, not just with Miss Rogers, but with any of the other teachers I'd dreamed of. Five years later, I was nearing graduation from high school. Unfortunately, I suffered an injury in gym class (this injury led to a very intense foot fe**sh with my physical therapist. I've posted this story here, but I'm deleting it because something else happened in an unrelated post). After I recovered from my injury, the physical therapist recommended yoga. After I completed this physical rehabilitation, my injury healed, and I was barely in pain anymore. Since I was still struggling with pain, that's why she recommended yoga.
Honestly, I was open to it because I was willing to do whatever it took to get back to 100%. I had been attending an afternoon yoga class in a neighboring town. To my surprise, the class leader was Ms. Rogers. Since I'd been her student, I'd matured and looked different than when I was her student. Despite that, she recognized me immediately and welcomed me with open arms. We chatted briefly before she started the class. I'd signed up online, and she knew who I was.
She asked me why I was taking the class. I told her that it was recommended to me to continue my rehabilitation from my injury. She was very happy that I had taken the class. She even told me that I was the only former student of hers who had ever taken it. I had never seen her so happy and at ease as I was here. Usually, from what I remembered of her as my teacher, she was always very schedule-oriented, even a little strict. Honestly, it was a pleasant surprise. When class started, I noticed that it was just me and five other women besides Miss Rogers leading the class. Unfortunately, for me, my hormones were taking over because, as you might expect, in a yoga class, everyone is barefoot. The other women in the class had perfectly fine feet, but the only one whose feet I noticed were Miss Rogers. Her feet were so inviting, petite, and alluring that for most of the class, they were the only thing I noticed. Over the next few months, she and I became quite comfortable with each other.
We even often went to a local restaurant for a quick dinner after class. One day, in early September, she approached me at the end of class and asked if I would be available to help her with her next class. I asked her what I would be helping her with. She said the class would be about calves, ankles, and feet. I asked her what I would be doing, and she said I would be helping her while she demonstrated stretches. I agreed and left for home, my mind racing with the prospect of being near her feet. I arrived at the yoga studio early so I could discuss what Ms. Rogers needed from me.
After chatting briefly upon my arrival, she asked me to set my yoga mat down next to hers. While everyone else filled the studio, my mind was still racing as to what we were going to do. Ms. Rogers began by demonstrating some leg stretches, and then some ankle stretches herself. After about 20 minutes, she turned to me and told the class that I would be helping her with the next stretch. The first stretch involved lying on her back with her legs in the air. I knelt down, holding her legs, with her feet directly under my chin.
She joked with the whole class that luckily for me, she put lotion on her feet every night to keep them from smelling. I tried hard not to get an er****on right away. For the next stretch, she had me wrap my index fingers around both of her big toes and flex them. Finally, she turned her body upside down so I could help her with the third stretch. I moved her left and right legs, with both feet pressed together, up and down. It was like she was mimicking a "fo***ob." Unfortunately, this caused me to get an er****on. This intense foot fe**sh teasing lasted about half an hour. Finally, class ended, and everyone began gathering their things and leaving. Some of the women from our class were chatting with Miss Rogers while I was gathering mine. They left, and I went to talk to Miss Rogers. She complimented me on helping her with today's lesson. She also thanked me graciously. I told her it was no big deal and began packing up my yoga mat and hers. As I walked back to her, she was sitting down to finish her post-class stretches. She invited me to join her. As I sat down, she looked at me and said, "Can I ask you something?"
I nodded my head. He said, "Look, I don't want to embarrass you or anything, but during class, did you get a little excited?" I was stunned. I didn't know what to say. I stuttered, and he spoke again, "I'm going around the bush here, unless I'm crazy, I'm pretty sure you have an er****on." My face was red, and I was sweating from how warm the class was and my newfound embarrassment. I played dumb. He put his hand on my shoulder and said, "I'm not mad, it's no big deal. It's completely normal, to be honest." I was confused.
~TO BE CONTINUED~
berat
