My name is Jack Nguyen, but you can call me Jack. I am, from the outside

looking in, a normal eighteen year-old boy. And for the most part, that's true. I get

along well with others, I do well in school, I don't engage in any reckless

activities, and I stay out of trouble. I do, however, hold a bit of a

secret: I have a vicious foot fetish.

Now, I suppose that's not as bad as, say, necrophilia, bestiality,

or other extremely taboo paraphilias, but it's certainly odd to most. After

all, to many, feet are among the ugliest and dirtiest parts of the body. But,

I suppose some of us are just wired differently, because they drive me wild.

I've been enamored by women's feet for as long as I can remember. Before I

even knew what sex or arousal were, my eyes were pulled to the ground should

there be barefoot or sandaled ladies present, as if the toes themselves had a

gravitational tug. And if they have painted nails, or god forbid a toering, it's

over. I simply must look. As I'm sure you can understand, this can make things

tricky at school, since all it takes is one classmate or teacher wearing a

pair of sandals or open-toed high heels to shatter my concentration. Hell, even

seeing a chick pop her heel out of her shoe a few times can be enough to

increase my heart rate. Due to this, I've mastered the art of the creepshot;

taking pictures discreetly, without the subject knowing. Perhaps not the best

practice morally, but to be honest, I'm past the point of caring.

My fetish goes even further than this, though. After being a lover of

women's feet for so long, I began to develop a parallel interest in their

shoes. Of course, feet and shoes go hand in hand (or, if you will, foot in

foot), so this might be expected. All types of women's shoes turn me on, but

only if they have previously been worn by an attractive lady. Sneakers or

tennis shoes are excellent due to the neat designs and strong scent they

contain, due to the fact that they're used chiefly for athletic

purposes. High heels might be my favorite. They're not only classy and

feminine, but the pressure they exert upon the foot tends to cause much

presperation, which I happen to be a huge fan of; not to mention that many

high heel designs display the toes or even more of the foot. Flats are

professional, which appeals to me greatly as someone who has a "thing" for

office ladies and the like, not to mention they leave behind a stronger scent

than perhaps any other type of footwear. And of course, one cannot forget the

sandal/flip flop. While they might not leave behind much "residue" due to

their openness, the view they give while being worn makes them indispensable.

And yet, despite all this, until a few years ago, I had yet to even

touch a lady's foot or shoe. Being rather shy and average looking, I tend to

fly under the radar of most women, and I have never had a girlfriend. No, the

first pair of feet I ever got to have fun with was not a romantic partner, but

rather, those of my stepmom, Mariah.

Well, I suppose stepmom isn't quite correct. Rather, she's my stepmom

"to be," since her and my dad are only engaged. They met about four years ago.

My "real" Mom, pardon my French, is a total cunt. She divorced my dad when I

was five, leaving us in financial hard times, despite my father being more or

less well off before. It took several years, but he eventually found a

nice job that earns us a decent middle class living, though this comes at the

cost of some long hours and frequent trips away from home.

It was on such a trip that he met Mariah. She's thirty-seven, making

her four years younger than my father. She is, speaking frankly, maybe the

most beautiful woman I've ever seen. She stands at around five foot ten,

making her two inches taller than myself. Some might be turned off by this,

but I am certainly not one of them. Rather, her height makes her far more

attractive to me. Her hair is black, wavy, and reaches about halfway down her

back. The black hair creates a stark contrast with her emerald eyes and skin,

which is tanned considerably. Of course, Her chest and rear are more than

enough to draw glances from any nearby men. And despite all this, I've yet to

mention Mariah's most appealing assets: her feet.

C'mon, you knew it had to come up sooner or later, right? Mariah's

feet are so gorgeous, not even the greatest poets in the history of the

English language would be able to find the words to speak of them in a

satisfactory way. They are, like the rest of her, tanned quite heavily. Also

like her, they are big: size ten US. She gets regular pedicures, keeping her

slightly long, evenly clipped nails a milky while color.

Like many women, Mariah enjoys buying shoes, and she's amassed a

rather remarkable collection. She has almost any type of shoe you could think

of, from heels, to flats, to sneakers, she's got it somewhere in her shoe

closet. Mariah takes pride in her collection, however, I doubt she's aware

that someone else in the house also enjoys it. And when I say I enjoy it, I

mean I REALLY enjoy it. In fact, Mariah's shoe closet marked one of the

defining achievements of my life: it gave me my first real life foot fetish

experience.

You see, Mariah works a nine-to-five IT job at a local insurance

company (remember what I said about office ladies?). Including the drive home,

she can usually be expected to arrive at around 5:20 PM, which is about the

time my dad gets home, give or take fifteen minutes. My school dismisses its

students at 3:10 PM, and it takes me about twenty minutes to get home. As a

result, I usually have about two hours completely to myself when I get home.

Having come to possess this divine opportunity, I wasted no time

taking full advantage of it. I can still remember the first day I entered that

shoe closet. I walked home and saw that neither Mariah's, nor Dad's car were in

the driveway. I entered through the front door. "Hello? Anybody?" Nothing. I

walked all over the house, meticulously checking each room, just to make extra

sure I was all by my lonesome. When I was sure that no one was present, I

walked up the stairs to my parents' bedroom. With each step, my heart started

beating louder and louder as I began to doubt what I was doing. After all,

this was, from most any angle you choose to look at it, rather immoral. I was

using my stepmother, without her knowledge or consent, to satisfy my weird

fetish. I couldn't even imagine how she'd react if she knew what I was up to,

or the near-daily fantasies I had involving her, each one more depraved than

the last. Me and Mariah got along great and had a really nice relationship,

and here I was, ready to risk it all away for a chance to bust a nut.

A stronger man would have turned around and done something better with

his time, but alas, I'm but a mere sinner. I reached the top of the stairs and

opened the door to the left. I entered the somewhat messy bedroom, the floor

spangled with the odd sock, shirt, or blanket. To my left was a small white

door. I breathed deeply as I began to approach it, before stopping briefly to

grab a tissue from the nightstand, for reasons that I assume are obvious.

I twisted the knob and entered, shutting the door behind me. I ran my

fingers across the wall until I found the switch. I flicked it on, causing a

soft light to turn on overhead. Here I was, standing inside my stepmother's

shoe closet, with all sorts of articles to enjoy. I was less like a kid in a

candy store, and more like a child given free range to explore Willy Wonka's

entire factory.

The closet was cozy, with shoes lined up across the walls on white

Ikea shelves. The room was mostly clean, save for a rather large blanket lying

on the floor. Good thing I cut on the light when I did, or I probably would

have busted my ass. I paced the small room once or twice, surveying the feast

laid before my eyes. The tapestry of worn women's footwear was so great, I had

a hard time deciding where to begin, until a pair of white peep-toe heels

caught my eye. I had seen Mariah wear these on occasion, mostly when she

needed to dress somewhat formally. I grabbed one of them, running my fingers

along the smooth exterior. I peeked inside and saw that Mariah's sole had

sweated a quite visible imprint into the insole. My heart rate immediately

shot up, as did my member. And ran my hands along the inside, before holding

the shoe up to my face. I inhaled deeper than perhaps I ever had up to that

point. To be honest, there wasn't much of a smell other than that of the

materials from which the shoe was made, but the mere knowledge that this heel

had encased my stepmother's divine foot set my loins ablaze. I stuck a hand

down my pants and began to stroke myself, though slowly, and only for a few

moments. After all, I didn't wan't this to end too soon.

I set the heel back down, then tried some more of the footwear. I

smelt, licked, and caressed many more items, from brown leather sandals, to

heels, to pumps. With each sniff and lick I got harder and more frenzied, and

before long I knew I had to finish. I surveyed my options for what I would use

during my climax. I debated over what to grab for a while, but I eventually

made my decision. I grabbed a plain pair of black flats with a tan insole,

which was deeply impressed with the shape of Mariah's long sole and bulbous

toes. I got on my knees and pulled down my sweatpants and underwear. I shoved

the flat against my face, inhaling like an asthmatic as the scent of sweat and

leather filled my nostrils. I ran my tongue along the indentions produced by

the months of wear from Mariah's foot, shivering with excitement. I reached

into my pocket, pulled out the tissue, hung the shoe on my nose, and held

the Kleenex against my penis as I prepared to enjoy the greatest climax of my

life. That is, until I heard footsteps from within the house.

It wasn't very loud, but the click-clack from downstairs was

unmistakable. Mariah was home, and she was coming right up the stairs. My

blood turned to ice, and my heart was beating so violently, it was as if my

eardrums were about to burst open. I jerked up, pulled up my pants, and set

the flat back down where it was. I looked all around the small closet, trying

to formulate a plan of action in the scant few seconds I had. There was only

one thing that could possibly save me: the blanket on the ground. It was

fairly large and already bunched up, so it wouldn't have been to inconceivable

for me to hide under it. I cut off the light and hit the ground, flinging the

blanket over my body as I laid under it in the fetal position. I heard

Mariah's footsteps get louder as she entered her bedroom. I tried telling

myself that she was just getting something from her room and wouldn't bother

checking the shoe closet, but somehow I knew that I was just lying to myself.

The closet door opened with a creek, and the light came on. I could

see just a little bit out of the gap between the blanket and floor. Mariah was

about two feet away, and she was wearing a pair of closed toe black pumps. She

raised one leg out of view, before bringing it back down, except now it was

bare. She repeated the same motion with the other foot, removing both shoes

and placing them on the shelf. From beneath the sheet, I was being given a

front row view of my stepmom's amazing feet, fresh from their shoes, white

toes slapping the wooden floor. It was really quite wonderful, but thankfully,

Mariah wasted no time in the closet. She promptly turned off the light, shut

the door, and walked back downstairs. I held my ear to the floor as I closed

my eyes and made absolutely sure she was far away. When I heard the TV come

on, I knew I was all clear. I jumped up, turned on the lights, and grabbed the

freshly worn pumps.

The smell was far stronger than that of any I had tried previously.

The wet sweat had yet to go, and the warmth turned my face red. In a frenzy I

began masturbating while hanging the shoe off my nose as I licked the insole.

With my other hand, I pulled down my pants and inserted the head of my penis

into the other heel as I continued beating my dick like an abusive husband. I

started to hyperventilate as I came, shaking like a Parkinson's patient as I

unloaded a torrent of semen into Mariah's pump.

I sat there for a minute or two, feeling as if I were on another plane

of existence after such a powerful orgasm. I then grabbed the tissue and tried

scooping my cum out of the heel. I mostly succeeded, but there was no way I

actually got it all out of there, a thought I found extremely exciting.

I stood, pulled up my pants, and put the shoes back in place. I turned

off the light and tiptoed out of the room. As I crept towards my room, my escape

was interrupted by a voice from downstairs.

"Jack? You 'round here anywhere?"

"Yeah." I croaked back. No response. I began walking down the stairs,

making my way to the living room. There was Mariah, reclining on the couch,

watching TV, with her feet propped up on the coffee table, legs crossed at the

ankles.

"Oh, there you are. I figured you were around here somewhere. Anyway,

I had a cold water in the fridge, could you be a doll and fetch it for me?"

I nodded, staring at the ground. Guilt over what I'd done ate at me as I

grabbed the water from the fridge. I handed it back to Mariah, unable to make

eye contact with her.

"Why are you so tense, honey? Come have a seat next to me. Did you

have a hard day at school?" she said, patting the seat beside her on the

couch.

"Uh, yeah, kinda," I replied, sitting on the couch next to her. Upon

doing so, Mariah adjusted her seating position. She removed her feet from the

coffee table and started half lying on her side, soles facing my left. They

were so close to my hand, I could almost feel the heat they gave off.

"Aww, I understand honey. My day wasn't so great either. I had to do a

*lot* of running around the office, and my feet are killing me!" she said,

flexing and wriggling her toes slightly. My ears perked up when I heard this,

and a spark of bravery overcame me.

"I could rub them for you, if you'd like."

"Really? You'd do that for me?" Mariah's face lit up.

"Yeah, sure."

I scooted down the end of the sofa as Mariah turned sideways, placing

both heels on my thighs. I took her soft, fleshy, and slightly sweaty bare

feet into my hands, caressing them as if I'd found the holy grail. They were

far warmer than I anticipated, which made me incredibly aroused. I can only

imagine how horny I'd've been had I not just ejaculated minutes prior.

We continued like that for a while, until the doorbell rang. My dad

was home, and Mariah got up to welcome him. I exchanged a few words with

my dad and went to my room, to "play video games." Of course, I trust the

reader to know that I was, in fact, furiously masturbating.

Thus began my first experience with my stepmom's feet, and Christ what

an experience it was. However, even this amazing day was merely a shadow of

what was to come, as the relationship between me, Mariah, and Mariah's

gorgeous feet was just getting started.