Rock Star
Sometimes its awful.
And sometimes, I'm a rock star.
Tonite, my feet were fetishized. And there was euphoria in being the object of foot worship.
He was quiet and Indian. His desire was to serve and kiss my feet. My beautiful newly manicured toes were first massaged, then tenatively licked, then sucked on, and eventually shoved in this mans mouth for the duration of about an hour or two. And the further I pushed, the more I stuffed in, the more excited he was. I was a gift of kinky indulgence for him, created excitement in his life, something to grab onto, hold in his memory.
And the act of having my feet devoured was something that made me very wet, very turned on. It was something between what I imagine it must be like to have your dick in someones mouth, and the power of having someone orally attached to your body. I was slightly alarmed a few times, it felt like I might have an orgasm from it. Quite an interesting concept when you are quite attached to the site of orgasm being between your legs, not at the ends of them.
But the episode was so curious, and so different, that it almost erased my memory of earlier today. Unlike most white men, I did not see encounter or have to deal with his dick. The fact of this really pleased me. Layed out on my bed with my feet in his mouth, all the lights off and only a big candle to light the room, I made him, step by step slowly get me off. All he wanted was for me to be happy and to serve me. He most of all seemed to like sticking his face straight underneath my feet, mashing his nose. A few moments even I was slightly suprised at this version of this fetish.
So interesting. The rollar coaster of existance, and what side of the idea of correct one stands on. On the outside of it all is a world of deviancy that only expands the concept of power and appropriation we all crave to break through. Maybe thats what all of this is all about. A trancendence of spirit into a new plane of existance, through the rite of passage I have immersed myself in.
And sometimes, I'm a rock star.
Tonite, my feet were fetishized. And there was euphoria in being the object of foot worship.
He was quiet and Indian. His desire was to serve and kiss my feet. My beautiful newly manicured toes were first massaged, then tenatively licked, then sucked on, and eventually shoved in this mans mouth for the duration of about an hour or two. And the further I pushed, the more I stuffed in, the more excited he was. I was a gift of kinky indulgence for him, created excitement in his life, something to grab onto, hold in his memory.
And the act of having my feet devoured was something that made me very wet, very turned on. It was something between what I imagine it must be like to have your dick in someones mouth, and the power of having someone orally attached to your body. I was slightly alarmed a few times, it felt like I might have an orgasm from it. Quite an interesting concept when you are quite attached to the site of orgasm being between your legs, not at the ends of them.
But the episode was so curious, and so different, that it almost erased my memory of earlier today. Unlike most white men, I did not see encounter or have to deal with his dick. The fact of this really pleased me. Layed out on my bed with my feet in his mouth, all the lights off and only a big candle to light the room, I made him, step by step slowly get me off. All he wanted was for me to be happy and to serve me. He most of all seemed to like sticking his face straight underneath my feet, mashing his nose. A few moments even I was slightly suprised at this version of this fetish.
So interesting. The rollar coaster of existance, and what side of the idea of correct one stands on. On the outside of it all is a world of deviancy that only expands the concept of power and appropriation we all crave to break through. Maybe thats what all of this is all about. A trancendence of spirit into a new plane of existance, through the rite of passage I have immersed myself in.
posted by sheloves at 7:27 PM
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