This guy, John, had me so damn worked up. He wasn’t your typical foot fetishist. No, this man was a foot worshipper, and he knew exactly how to make my toes curl. Pun intended!
He started slow, asking permission to admire my feet—oh, how I love that dirty talk! He went on about how my feet were so prim and proper, like a proper lady should have. But little did he know, I had a secret fetish of my own. I craved the dirty, the taboo, and John was about to deliver.
He began licking and sucking my toes, tongue weaving between them, sending shivers down my spine. Then, with a wicked grin, he took the whole foot in his mouth, slurping and sucking like a hungry babe.
But that wasn’t enough for this foot fetish freak. John reached for his pants, and out came his thick, throbbing cock. He placed my foot on his lap, the other caressing my sole, as he began piston-like movements. My pussy was dripping wet, and my feet were getting a workout of their own.
He fucked my foot, yes, fucked it good! While he did so, I imagined my feet wrapped around his meaty shaft, a sight I knew would be sinful and wrong but oh so right.
John was a man on a mission. He flipped me over, spread my legs, and dove into my pussy, feet still getting the VIP treatment. He licked and sucked my juicy cunt, making me squirm and moan. Then, with a grunt, he stood up, positioning himself at my feet.
He slammed into me, feet-first, making me gasp. The depravity of it all—having my pussy and feet worshipped—was a rush like no other. John fucked me senseless, the filth pouring from his mouth, calling me his foot bitch and slut.
It was disgraceful, it was debauched, but I loved every minute. That’s my story, an unromantic, wild foot fetish romp, and it gets me so damn horny every time!
Rosalie
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