I've had a man profess to having a foot fetish before. He'd suck my toes and rub my feet and generally be a normal guy otherwise. When I met K and he claimed to have a foot fetish as well, I didn't even bat an eye.
I love my feet. I think they're adorable. Getting a foot rub or having my toes sucked on while being licked from head to foot is delightful and erotic, sign me up! I did, however, get a bit more than I bargained for with K.
The man never stopped touching my legs and feet. At first I had my usual motto of "if it gets you off, it gets me off". I did enjoy the attention. I did get a shiver when romantically engaged and he'd put my toes in his mouth, but this was becoming a pandemic.
To him, touching my leg or foot was no different a sign of affection than patting my shoulder. One night, while I was meeting his friends for the first time he bent down and kissed my foot as he was getting up to go grab something. You could've heated the house with my cheeks as his friends looked at me, curious expressions upon their faces. We had to have a talk about what was considered taboo in public and what wasn't.
K and I would be in bed (or the livingroom, or any other part of the house) behaving like naughty kids, and invariably, more attention was paid to my legs and feet than any other part of my body. K made the experience, something I'd been pretty neutral about, erotic. I enjoyed distracting him with stockings. The sight of my small delicate feet strapped into a pair of gorgeous shoes would drive him to whisk me into the bedroom where he'd slowly remove my clothes and worship my body, kissing and caressing his way down.
It was a unique experience, adjusting to my partners fantasies. I loved the foot rubs and pedicures. I eventually stopped apply lotion to my legs myself, knowing how much pleasure he got from caressing soft skin and smoothing, working lotion into my feet. His attention solely focused on the objects off his desire resting in his lap.
After some time, because of my openness, K confessed to another fetish, a side dish, an accent if you will. K had a cast fetish, for, you guessed it, feet.
According to him, casting was the only socially acceptable form of bondage, which he knew I was into. My interest was piqued and I questioned him in depth. According to K, there is nothing more erotic than a leg and foot held immobile in a cast. He enjoys putting his partner in a medically unnecessary cast, he also enjoys the sex while his partner is thus "bound".
When questioned about the feasibility of this fetish, K expressed that his previous partner would be in a cast from as short a time as one day, to once, two weeks. When appearing in public people simply assume that the person in the cast has merely been injured. Happens all the time, no one would ever dare assume it was a fetish. K's fetish always involved the foot in some way. Any cast he wanted his partner to appear it, it was always at least the foot/ankle.
I'm incredibly open about exploring and experimenting, however the cast fetish proves too much of me. The anxiety of being trapped, the damage one can do to ones body, and the lack of normal mobility are things I cannot get past.
To compensate I've decided to be a martyr and purchase more red tie polish, endure another pedicure, sit through having my thighs caressed and kissed, my calves kneed, and my toes sensually sucked on... It's a hard life, but we do what we must. ;)