I like married women—

At that time, I met a woman four years older than me at a media outlet in Beijing: her name was Zhao Na (pen name). She was a very down-to-earth woman who knew how to appreciate life and had a kind heart. This was one of the important reasons that touched me (whether she was beautiful or not is another matter).

After we met, we would exchange thirty or forty text messages every day and often chat on the phone. Her voice sounded particularly "kind, approachable, and mature." After about three months of this, we both wanted to meet, so we arranged a time to meet. I was very excited; the opportunity to meet had finally arrived.

It was during the SARS outbreak in Beijing, one weekend morning (all companies were closed). I went to her home according to the address she gave me (she rented an apartment alone; renting an apartment in Beijing is quite expensive, but she still preferred to live alone because it was quieter, and sometimes she could bring work home to do). After knocking on her door, I hesitated, wondering if she would approve of me in real life. At that moment, I heard her voice from inside: "Who is it?" "It's me!" I quickly replied.

The door slowly opened, revealing a delicate and pretty face. She smiled at me. "May I come in?" I asked. "Of course," she replied immediately. She led me into the living room and handed me a cup of tea she had prepared beforehand. We sat very close, able to see each other clearly. We chatted about work, life, and other topics for a long time until it was time for lunch.

After lunch, we returned to the living room and continued our conversation. As time went on, she began to tire and reclined on the sofa. "Her feet gently left her shoes, revealing a pair of black mid-to-high heels, which aroused a strong desire in me. I would steal glances at her stockinged feet."

Seeing how tired she was, I offered to massage her feet. She said, "How could I do that when we've just met?"

(Hearing this, I suspected something was amiss.) I quickly replied, "It's alright. We've known each other for over three months, and we've talked so much today. It feels like we're old friends." While she hesitated, I lifted her beautiful feet and began to massage them. She didn't say anything more. I could tell the skin on the soles of her feet wasn't in very good condition; there were some calluses under her big toes, but I could feel them with my hand. Her toes were arranged nicely, with varying lengths, like five steps.

They looked very sexy. Her toes moved constantly in my hands, and I could tell she really enjoyed the massage. She closed her eyes, enjoying my service. My penis was already hard, and I brought my nose closer to her feet to see if I could smell anything. Sure enough, I smelled a special feminine scent and the scent of feet—the one I had been searching for.

(I don't know when I developed such a deep preference for women's things, but I must clarify that I only do this for women I like; I don't like all women's things.) The scent gradually became stronger. Her feet were sweating. I gently placed her feet on my lap, removed the sweat-soaked stockings, revealing her beautiful feet. My heart began to heat up. "What beautiful feet these are!" I was crazy about them, obsessed with them.
I still clearly remember that day. There was some peeling skin between her toes, but that didn't diminish my desire for it. Instead, I massaged her feet more and more carefully, from the soles to the heels, the balls of her feet, the toes, the insteps, and the ankles—a meticulous service. This was the best gift I could receive, all without her knowledge, something I received by chance.

That day, I only massaged her feet with my hands, because she probably didn't know I was a foot fetishist, and I was afraid that licking her feet would wake her. Although I didn't lick her feet that day, I still felt very satisfied, after all, I had touched her beautiful feet. After the massage, she pulled her feet back and said, "It feels so good, the fatigue of the past few days is gone."
"Thank you so much… (It's been so long since I felt this comfortable, you seem to have studied this before)." I replied, "I've only read books on foot massage. If you'd like, I'd be honored to massage your feet every day in the future, so you can feel as comfortable as you did today." She smiled, and I knew she had agreed.

And so, during the SARS outbreak in Beijing, we went for a run every morning. One time, after we came back from a run, she said to me, "Didn't you say you'd massage my feet?" "Did you keep your word?" "Of course I did," I replied...

She turned and sat on the soft sofa, seemingly about to take off her shoes. I quickly went over and said, "From now on, I'll take care of putting on and taking off your shoes." She smiled again, the meaning of which only she knew. I moved over and half-knelt on the clean floor, taking off her shoes.

I noticed she was wearing white athletic socks today. She has sweaty feet, and the moment I took off her shoes, a sour smell wafted over, carried by my breath to every organ in my body—it felt wonderful. I gently pressed her acupoints with my thumb, starting by massaging, then rubbing her soles, and finally gently tapping her insteps. She seemed to be enjoying it. Suddenly, she put her other foot on my shoulder and said, "This makes me feel even better."

Deep down, I longed for her feet to rest in my mouth. I thought I could massage them more carefully and love them more. It would give her a different kind of comfort. Just then, she asked,

"What are you thinking about?" "Don't you like me putting my feet on your shoulders?"
she asked in a sweet voice, glancing at me. I said, "No, I really like it when you do that." "Then, would you like me to put my feet on your head and 'step' on them?"

My heart was pounding. Did she know what I was thinking, or had she experienced it before? I quickly replied, "Of course I'd like you to step on my head! As long as you're comfortable and happy, that's all that matters. And I'd even rather have your feet in my mouth. Firstly, I can wash your feet, and secondly, you can enjoy the massage from my mouth." As soon as I finished speaking, she eagerly added, "Now I want to feel it! Is what you're doing really like you say? If it is, I'll have you wash my feet every day and give you a reward!" These words really excited me. As a foot fetishist, wouldn't you love to hear something like this?

Her foot slowly slid down from my head to my nose, then suddenly stopped and started "poking my nose, twisting and turning, the pressure increasing, a sour sensation rising in my nose." Her foot was slightly damp, carrying the sour smell of sweat.

My penis was already aroused, so I quickly shoved her foot into my mouth. My desire was fulfilled. I felt her gift to me, her foot moving in my mouth. I was completely focused on licking her foot. Her toenails, which probably hadn't been trimmed for over a week, sometimes scratched my tongue and gums, creating a uniquely painful yet exciting sensation.

Many foot fetishists enjoy being masochistic; a little pain is what makes it stimulating, and I'm no exception (I prefer mild masochism). I savored the true meaning of the love she gave me.

She said to me, "You're just like the little dog we had when I was little. It used to lick my feet like you do. Sometimes I'd stomp on my feet until it couldn't breathe, and I'd only lift my foot to let it escape when it was almost suffocating. I haven't felt this way in a long time."

At that moment, I was still kneeling on the ground, licking her feet, thinking that I was about to become her future dog. But I didn't say it aloud, afraid of surprising her and making her uneasy. My tongue skillfully traversed each of her toes, carefully experiencing the love her feet gave me.

Her soles, slightly calloused, had softened considerably after being bathed in my saliva. I gently nibbled and chewed on them with my teeth, and the calloused skin slowly fell into my mouth,

no longer tasting anything. Due to the prolonged licking, it had lost its original flavor.
Her feet never stopped, constantly teasing me: my head, cheeks, neck, nose, mouth—there were steps, presses, pinches, kneading, and rubbing motions, arousing a strong desire in me—to possess her. Just as I was getting excited, she suddenly withdrew her feet, saying, "I've had enough. I'll give you a good time tonight." I was still enjoying myself, and she stopped—it was truly devastating for my soul. Fortunately, there was still night.

<<>>.

We had a great time, and soon night was falling. We prepared four dishes and began to eat. She deliberately placed her feet on my lap—smiling at me and saying, "I like this," before casually picking up her chopsticks and eating.

After dinner, we each began our washing up. Her beautiful back kept swaying in front of me…

I returned to the living room and picked up a book from the bedside table. It was a book about women's hand and foot care, and I read for about 20 minutes.

Her bedroom door opened, and a soft, melodious voice came from inside—"Could you come here for a moment?"

I put down my book and rushed to her room. As soon as I reached the door, I was stunned—she was so beautiful!
Long, wavy hair, a red silk short-sleeved top, and a light yellow short skirt. She sat on the edge of the bed, looking at me with an air of superiority, noticing my surprised expression. She wore black pointed high heels, about 6-7 centimeters high, and her straight legs were made even more sexy, beautiful, and dazzling by black stockings! "
Am I pretty?" she asked softly. "Yes, very pretty, absolutely gorgeous." So, what was her purpose in doing all this while I was reading? Was it to surprise me, or was there another reason? The answer is below!

My eyes scanned her from head to toe, and when they landed on her black high heels, they were drawn to her, unable to look away—the slender heels, the cotton socks on the carpet—I immediately recognized them as the athletic socks she'd worn that morning!

The slender heels pressed down and lifted repeatedly, a movement that, for someone like me who appreciates this kind of thing, meant something I don't need to explain…

She stood up, walked to the music player, played her favorite piano piece, and beckoned to me: "Come here!
Shall we dance?!" "Sure! It's an honor to accept your invitation," she smiled brightly.
To the accompaniment of the music, we danced and talked joyfully, one song after another. Her figure captivated me.
Every touch of her hand was intoxicating, a connection of souls. I felt incredibly happy and excited. She was a very gentle woman, someone who knew how to appreciate life and sought romance.

We danced for what seemed like forever, until the music on side A of the CD ended. We had just rested when she returned to the bed where she had been sitting, smiling at me as she swung her sexy high heels back and forth. I guessed she was tired from dancing. "Would

you like me to massage your legs?" I asked. She hesitated for a moment, but then agreed. "But please don't massage places you shouldn't!" she said playfully with a smile. "Don't worry, I know what to do. I won't be impolite!" She then placed her long legs on the bed and lay down face down. Before massaging her, I washed my hands, afraid of soiling her clothes with sweat. Her perfume exuded a feminine fragrance, and her beautiful body looked incredibly alluring under the soft red light.

The massage started from her thighs and went down. It began with a rolling motion, sliding back and forth across her legs. Next came the lifting and grasping techniques, mainly applied to the fleshy areas of her thighs and calves. Finally, it included pressing, tapping, grasping, lifting, poking, and kneading techniques. It lasted about 40 minutes. Then, my hand slipped and reached her heel. She pulled her leg back and said, "Your hands are too itchy. Lick them with your tongue instead of massaging." I couldn't believe my ears, but it was really true.

I asked her, "You like me to massage you with my mouth, right?" She nodded slightly. The feeling of her licking me was like my dog licking me—a tingling, numb sensation that traveled from my upper body to my lower body, making me feel lightheaded…

Okay then, I'll give her a massage with my mouth and see if it feels good. So I lowered my head, gently took off my shoes, and lightly kissed her heels, soles, insteps, and toes, letting her fully enjoy the lightheaded feeling that foot licking brought her. My tongue swirled around her nerves like a dragonfly skimming the water, and her feet kept moving. My purpose was to serve her and make her feel comfortable.

"I know many women are ticklish and don't like men licking their feet, feeling that men should be upright and shouldn't lower themselves for women. But I think it's just a hobby, and it has little to do with what men do in other ways, nor does it affect their dignity in public. I only enjoy giving her my sincere service in our private world."

Her black stockings, wet with my saliva, clung to her soles, giving a unique sensation when I licked them. The stockings smelled of leather shoes. She sat up and asked, "Are you tired?"

I replied, "Not at all. You little glutton, want to play some more? Hmm..." "Want to play?!" she said. "Then turn around, I'll take off my stockings and let you play to your heart's content this time." I turned around as she said, and after about a minute, she threw the stockings she had just taken off onto my head, leering lewdly. "My little dog, come lick my feet!!" Hearing this command, I was incredibly excited!

At this moment, she seemed to be getting sexier and more alluring. I knelt on the ground, picked up her delicate feet, and kissed them passionately.

She started to laugh, a laugh so intoxicating and captivating. I had never experienced anything like this before; it was as if I had forgotten everything around me, only enjoying the moment. Looking at everything before me… my emotions gradually intensified along with her ecstasy. My mouth opened wide, and I shoved her left foot into my mouth, savoring the taste of foot fetish, a taste I would never forget. So I pushed it in harder. At the same time, her right foot slid forcefully against my chest. We spent about 20 minutes in this blissful state. We both felt a little tired. Her foot pushed hard against my mouth, and with the force of her foot, my head gradually tilted towards the ground until I lay flat on the ground. But I still held her foot tightly and continued to lick and massage it.

She responded to my… She moved from the bed to the edge, now positioned high above me, while I felt like… being trampled under her feet.

This position was advantageous to her. She pulled her feet out of my mouth and began a storm of footwork, stomping and rubbing, rotating me 90 degrees. My face contorted in a thousand different ways, a thrill of excitement rising within me.

She passionately declared, “This time I’ll give you a real treat; my feet will be unforgettable!” With that, she shoved her big toes into my nostrils, twisting and turning them until my nose felt like it was about to burst!

(Every movement of hers made my soul leave my body; I’ll describe two of them in more detail for fellow enthusiasts to share.) Then she changed tactics. Her left big toe and index finger pinched my nostrils shut, making it impossible for me to breathe. Her right foot, with the broad, flat sole, pressed down on my mouth, aiming to suffocate me. This feeling was truly unbearable. My face was flushed red from the pressure of her foot. Only then did she slowly lift her right foot and move it to her neck, looking down at me and saying, "How does it feel! Are you satisfied with my foot?"

I was panting heavily and hadn't even had a chance to answer her question. Instead, I was staring straight at her partially exposed, full breasts. She smiled slightly and said, "You want more, don't you? Didn't you hear what I asked you?"

"I'm going to step on you like I step on my dog," she said, slowly bringing her right foot down. This time, however, her foot was much heavier than before; it felt like her buttocks were off the bed, all the weight on that foot.

My neck felt like it was about to break; she was taking my breath away again, repeatedly taking my breath away, once…once…again…

She placed one foot on my mouth and the heel of her other foot on my nipple, continuously stimulating me—a thrill I had never experienced before. Her hands didn't stop either, pulling at the necklace around my neck. Luckily, my necklace broke.

During our time together, neither of us had ever mentioned anything about feet.
Who knows if she knew I had this kind of fetish?!

At night, when I was sound asleep, she would suddenly wake me up and make me carry her to the toilet! But she didn't like me seeing her urinate; instead, she would close the door tightly and carry her back to her own bed in her room after she finished.

So, I stayed with her for five days. We talked and laughed every day, and got along very well. She was a gentle woman, but sometimes very irritable. She rarely invited men to her home. I kept her company during the SARS outbreak, through some lonely days. Perhaps this was a way for her to find joy and release her emotions.
On the afternoon of my departure, she said, "You're welcome to come again anytime!" I could tell from her eyes that this was what she truly felt. I replied, "I will come again. It was a pleasure being with you. Thank you for your hospitality these past few days. Goodbye, my friend," and left reluctantly…

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I like married women—

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