MidReal Story
Secret Desires: Forbidden Love and Betrayal
Scenario: I want to lick a lot of girls' feet
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I’d never thought much about my fetish until I was in my early teens and noticed that my friends were staring at girls’ boobs and commenting about how hot their asses were.
I didn’t get it.
Feet, I thought, were the most beautiful part of a woman.
The shape, the size, the length of her toes, and the way her arches arched.
I’d been obsessed ever since.
In high school, I’d find myself staring at the feet of the girls sitting next to me in class and having to hide my boner with a book or a notebook.
It only got worse as I got older.
By the time I hit college, I was making excuses to go to parties where I knew there’d be girls in flip-flops so I could sneak peeks of their feet.
I’d even scribbled a few down in my personal journals that I’d kept hidden in my desktop drawer.
I can’t count the number of times I’d jerked off to those memories.
Sometimes I’d even go back and read my old journal entries to get off.
I’d never had sex with a woman—or even kissed one—because I was afraid that if I got too close I wouldn’t be able to control myself.
I didn’t trust myself enough not to let my fetish get out of my head—or out of my pants—and on display for all the world to see.
It’s not that I was ashamed of it, per se, but it’s not exactly something you can talk about over dinner without someone thinking you’re totally gross or a total freak.
So instead of going out on dates or taking women home, I went to strip clubs and flirted with dancers who would take their shoes off when they sat with me.
Or I’d find women who were into me and date them, but deep down I knew that they weren’t what I wanted.
I was completely superficial when it came to dating.
I didn’t care about their jobs, their personalities, or their families.
I only cared about their feet.
And they always disappointed me.
They never had the feet I wanted, no matter how hard I looked.
My obsession was my biggest weakness, and it was the one thing that had always trumped everything else in my life—including my better judgment.
Despite the fact that I was a thirty-three-year-old professional who should have known better, I still spent too many nights alone wishing for something I couldn’t have.
I wanted a woman whose feet made me hard.
There was only one problem: she didn’t exist.
I didn’t know what it meant.
I just knew that it was there, deep inside of me, and it wasn’t going anywhere.
I’d become completely obsessed with Olivia Parker from the second she’d walked into our building.
She was petite with blonde hair, big blue eyes, and a tiny button nose.
She reminded me of a Barbie doll, but without all the plastic.
But it wasn’t just her looks that had caught my attention.
She was kind and sweet and maybe just a little bit naive.
Since she’d moved into our building six weeks ago, I’d been obsessed with her.
I’d even gone so far as to find out where she lived and what she did for work just so I could see her more often.
The moment she’d mentioned to our mutual friend that she’d never been to a strip club before, I’d taken it as a sign.
It was my chance to finally meet her.
We’d been sitting at the bar talking when she’d asked me if I went to strip clubs often.
I’d been so caught up in my thoughts of her that I didn’t even realize what I was saying.
But once the words were out, she’d looked at me with her huge blue eyes and asked if we could go together.
How could I say no?
The moment we walked in, I knew that we’d been made for each other.
She was the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen, and we’d only just arrived.
When she’d taken her place on stage and started dancing, my dick had gotten hard almost instantly.
I’d watched as she’d taken off her shoes and tossed them to the side of the stage.
My mouth watered as I stared at her little feet.
I’d barely listened to a word Olivia said.
My focus had been on the dancers who were working the stage, shaking their asses, and doing whatever it took to make money.
They were all beautiful in their own way, but not a single one of them had her feet.
I’d gone back a few times over the next week or two, but nothing had compared to the moment when Olivia and I were together.
She’d danced on stage as if she was performing just for me, and when she’d come down to talk to me, it’d been like we were the only two people in the room.
We’d even gone back to her place after the club closed and spent the night together, but her feet hadn’t been any different than they’d been before.
And the moment we were done, I’d snuck out of her apartment and left without ever looking back.
But it hadn’t helped.
If anything, it’d made things worse.
My obsession with Olivia had only deepened, and something inside of me was telling me that she was the one.
I’d mentioned it to my friend Jackson over drinks a few nights later, and he’d suggested that we go to a brothel.
He said that if I really wanted to get over Olivia—and my obsession with her—I needed to have sex with someone else.
But he didn’t understand.
It wasn’t about having sex; it was about finding someone who made me feel a way that no one else ever had.
And no amount of money would make that happen.
The first time we’d gone, Jackson had picked out a girl he thought would be perfect for me.
She looked like any other woman you’d find on the street, but she also had pretty feet, so I went with her without complaint.
But the moment we were alone in the room, she’d looked at me expectantly, waiting for me to tell her what I wanted.
My dick had gotten hard at the mere thought of what we were about to do, but as soon as she’d started taking off her clothes, I knew that it wasn’t going to happen.
I wouldn't be able to get hard unless she had her shoes on and was in a position where I could see her feet.
It was like there was a switch inside my head, and if the conditions weren’t right, it wouldn’t work.
I’d paid the woman anyway and left without ever telling Jackson what had happened in the room.
We went back a few more times after that, but nothing had changed.
I still couldn’t do it, and when he asked me why a month or two later, I finally told him what my fetish was and how it affected me in ways he couldn’t understand.
He hadn’t believed me at first and had laughed at me when he thought I was joking, but when I told him that I was being serious, he’d gone quiet and hadn’t said another word until we were on our way to a strip club later that night.
I’ve always been drawn to women who exude confidence and aren’t afraid to be themselves in any situation.
And my ex-girlfriend Sophia was no exception to that rule.
She was outgoing and always knew what she wanted in life, but she also had a tendency to be a little too opinionated at times.
She was one of those women who you could take home to meet your parents and would have them loving her before you even left the house because she had an infectious personality and smile that could light up a room in an instant.
And while some people might’ve been put off by her no-nonsense attitude or taken aback by her strong opinions on just about everything in life, those were things that had always drawn me to her from the moment we’d met in college all those years ago.
I’d been a sophomore and she’d been a freshman, and when we’d first met in one of our classes, we’d hit it off right away, even though she’d had a boyfriend at the time.
But when they’d broken up a few months later, Sophia had come to my dorm room in tears and told me everything that had gone down between them.
I’d listened to her as she cried and told me how much of an asshole he was, and when she’d finally stopped talking, she’d looked at me with her big, brown eyes and asked if she could stay with me for the night.
And while some might’ve thought it was too soon for us to be together after everything they’d been through—or that we were moving too fast by getting together so soon after they’d broken up—I knew from the moment we kissed for the first time that I wanted to be with Sophia for as long as she would have me.
i will lick her feet
I’ve always been obsessed with perfection and have gone to great lengths in order to be the best at just about everything I’ve ever done in life.
From my grades in school to my job as an engineer, I’ve always gone above and beyond what was expected of me and have made sure that nothing less than perfection was accepted from myself in every situation.
And while some people might’ve thought my obsession with perfection was a little over-the-top at times—especially when it came to getting ready in the morning or making sure everything was in its place around my apartment—it was just something that had always come natural for me and was something I took great pride in no matter what situation I found myself in.
For as long as I could remember, women have always been my biggest weakness.
Whether it was their smile or personality—or just about any other part of them—I’ve always loved being around women and have enjoyed their company in just about every situation I’ve ever found myself in over the years.
But as much as I loved women and everything about them, I’d always been a little too obsessed with their feet and toes—things that most people wouldn’t even think twice about when they saw a woman out in public.
And while most men might’ve been drawn to a woman’s eyes or breasts—or just about any other part of her body—I’d always been drawn to her feet and toes and loved staring at them from across the room or under the table when I was out on a date and knew that my date’s feet were in view.
It wasn’t something that I’d chosen or had control over, and it wasn’t something that I could just ignore or turn off whenever I wanted to either.
It was just a part of who I was and something that I’d learned to live with over the years—no matter how hard it might’ve seemed at times.
After all, women’s feet were beautiful and sexy—and were often overlooked in most situations—so I didn’t see anything wrong with admiring them from afar every now and then, even if they weren’t mine to enjoy in ways that I’d like.
But while some women might’ve been put off by their partner’s fixation on their feet and toes or might’ve thought it was weird or creepy in some way, I wasn’t like those other men and didn’t like to make it known that I had a foot fetish in the first place.
I’d always been a private person by nature, and even though I’d told some of my ex-girlfriends and friends over the years what turned me on and what didn’t—and they’d all been pretty accepting of it when I’d told them what I liked and didn’t like in bed—it was still something that not many people knew about or realized when they were around me on a daily basis.
After all, I didn’t want to be judged or made fun of for something that I couldn’t control any more than they could help liking big tits or small waists on a woman.
Since I’d met Sophia all those years ago, I hadn’t been with too many women and hadn’t gotten laid in a while either, as I’d been too busy working on my new apartment complex and making sure that everything was just right before I moved in a few months earlier.
I didn’t mind being alone or having time to myself, but I still got lonely every now and then when I thought about everything that I’d been through with Sophia over the years.
And while I knew I’d never be able to replace her or forget everything we’d been through together—or find someone who would ever be as compatible with me as she was when we’d been together—I still held out hope that I’d find someone who could light up my world in ways that no one else ever would.
I knew it was a long shot, but I still fantasized about the possibility—no matter how improbable it might’ve seemed at the time.
And when I met my new neighbor Olivia a few weeks earlier, I thought that she could be that person for me.
She was petite with blonde hair and kind blue eyes that shone like the sun whenever she smiled—and I found myself captivated by her from the moment we met on the roof of our building when I was out jogging one morning.
But even though I knew she was the type of woman who could make me forget my ex-girlfriend—and help me move on with my life so that I could be happy again—I knew that it would never happen between us because of my fetish and everything that came along with it.
I wouldn’t be able to be myself around her or show her what turned me on in bed, as I thought she might judge me if she ever found out what my fetish was.
