[The following is part of a series of personal thoughts and revelations by New Shoes administrator and author Adam Scott Thompson. Hold your breath whilst reading, lest you catch the vapors.]
I’m into feet, but not in a full-force fetish kind of way. I just love women’s feet-- some women’s feet. It’s not as serious for me as it is for some, the licking/sniffing/rubbing their junk on it kind. I don’t need half a foot in my mouth or a big toe up my ass. No-- I just need them to be nice-looking.
If I were a woman-- pre-occupied with some long, silly list of qualifications-- this would be a potential "dealbreaker." If a woman’s feet are on point then that’s all I need. I don’t have to have them up in my face or anywhere that I can see them (they could be hooked around my back, for all I care); just the knowledge that they exist in a state of near-perfection is enough to send me. On the other hand, if a woman’s feet repulse me it makes it infinitely harder to be fully aroused by her.
Matter of fact, if I had the choice I would rather smash an ugly woman with pretty feet than a pretty woman with ugly feet. Twisted, I know… but isn’t that why you love (to hate) me?