The Adventures of Madi Ch. 05

"This addition is dedicated to a fan who contacted me quite a while ago. He gave me this great idea for a story that I thought audiences would love. Please rate and comment about this story and let me know if you have any ideas by messaging me. Thanks!"

"Hi, my name is Madison, or Madi for short. I'm about 5 foot and 3 inches, brunette, cute, and like to have a good time. I'm not exactly like other girls, because I'm bi and have a foot fetish. Yes, a girl can have a foot fetish too. I love feet, and I'm always looking for chance at another girl's beautiful feet."

Nothing says "welcome back to college" like the university magazine sale. Sounds fun right? Wrong. This sale is the pits. Since I was now a second year student, I had to go out and do these sales with my lovely "team" of girls I was assigned with. These girls were some of the bitchiest, laziest, self absorbed cunts I had ever met. Excuse the language, but it's completely true, I swear.

The money we raised would help with tuition and I appreciated that, but no one wanted this crappy magazine. It was about stuff that was going on at the University no one gave a hoot or a holler about. All the boring stats, research, new professor info, etc. was in there, but nothing exciting like sports or gossip.

What made all of this worse was the fact that Veronica couldn't come with me. She had an orientation tonight and was exempted from doing the sale. I'm sure she wouldn't be keen about doing this herself, but she would have done it for me. We were still dating in secret basically. When we went out, we would usually go out of town so no one would recognize us and see that we were dating. It's not that we were ashamed, it's just that both our families didn't know and we wanted to take that part slowly. Still, we had loads of fun together and the sex was unequalled.

I smiled as I thought about my Veronica, and how she told me try and have fun while I was out. Even though the past nine houses had politely (or impolitely) told me they weren't interesting, I had to keep trying. I approached the door of my tenth house of the night. It was still sunny out, but it would be sunset in less than an hour. I rung the doorbell and waited for an answer. As per usual, I looked down at my feet while I waited. I was wearing some cute converse that my sister bought for me before she left. They were pink to match my pink top and white capris. It was a cute and casual summer outfit, for which I got a compliment on by one of the older gentleman I visited today. The only thing that bothered me was the fact I had to wear socks while I went around to houses. "Stupid dress codes," I thought. Anyone who hangs around me knows I hardly ever wear them and I hate the feeling of them on my feet. Plus, who's gonna see my adorable feet if they are covered up?

The door opened and I lifted my head up. It was a woman that appeared to be her late 40's, carrying a cat in her arms. I'm a dog person, but cats can be cute...if they're not wrecking everything they put their paws on, like my granny's old furball. That thing ripped up my favorite coat when I was in middle school.

"Yes, may I help you." the women asked somewhat impatiently.

I put on the best smile I could and introduced myself. "Hi, my name is Madi and I'm out selling these fine magazines for my school's annual sale. I was hoping that you might be interested in supporting our University and students like me." It sounded so cheesy, but that was what the staff told us to do.

"I'm sorry, but I'm not interested in the magazine, and I told the girl last year the same thing," she replied. "I would very much like it if you folks would please stop visiting my house each year." She looked a bit flustered, like I had just asked her to eat that cat in her arms.

"Well ma'am, I'll see if I can have your house marked off in the future then," I said as politely as I could.

"Please see to it that you do," she said. Her cat hissed a little, then she closed the door promptly.

I walked off her lawn and away from the house, disappointed that once again I failed to make a sale. On top of that, I was tired from all the walking. This neighbourhood had its houses separated and the sidewalks were terrible here. My poor peds were sore, but what ticked me off most was that I had just painted them. Veronica had bought me turquoise polish last week and I had just applied it two days ago. I had a feeling all this walking had already started chipping my toenails. Nothing pisses me off more than my nails looking bad.

However, I refused to go back empty handed. I needed to find someone that would buy these magazines. My team members were all bragging out about how they were each going to sell ten magazines tonight, and even made bets with each other. As a very competitive person, I had gone in on the bet, saying that I would have fifteen or more. Their response: they laughed at me. The ringleader (anyone can tell she's in charge because she's the sluttiest and outspoken one of the group) said if I sold at least twenty magazines tonight, they would give me anything I wanted, as long as it was in their ability. If I lost, then they would force me to do something for EACH of them.

Now I know what everyone's thinking: Why the hell did I accept that bet? First, who could

resist a chance to put these bitches in their place? If I won, they would be in for quite a surprise. I thought my awesome personality and charm would win over this neighborhood. Now I see why ten magazines are hard to sell around here.

There was a large house down the street a bit that I had noticed from earlier. Something was telling me that was my last hope for a least one sale. I approached the house and started hearing Blink-182 blasting from inside. Now unless old people, like the ones I've visited thus far today, have somehow lost their marbles and started listening to such music, this was home to someone far younger. Someone that might be friendlier than these old coots.

I rang the bell, and whoever was inside heard and turned the volume off. A few seconds later, the door opens and a young man comes out. My guess is he was either an older college student, or fresh out of school. To be quite honest, he was actually very cute. He was tall, well-built and dressed casually in a Packers tee and jeans. He had a very Ryan Reynolds-esque look, and I felt my heart melt just a little. The Proposal was such a great movie.

"Hi, can I help you with something?" he asked in a friendly tone.

I suddenly realized that after a few seconds that I was standing on his porch, just staring at his beautiful self, quiet as a church mouse. My brain clicked back on. "Hi, my name is Madi and I'm out selling these fine magazines for my school's annual sale. I was hoping that you might be interested in supporting our University and students like me."

The man laughed and gave me an understanding look. "I remember when I had to do that myself." He looked down at my sign-up sheet and then asked to see it. I gave it to him, secretly hoping he would touch my arm in the process. Every ounce of me wished I been in school with him at the same time. After looking it over a bit, he gave it back to me. "Look, I'd really like to help you out and all, but I'm not really sure that this is something I want to buy-"

But he couldn't continue, because I started bawling, and fell on my knees. "But I need someone to buy these magazines or I'm never going to be able to show my face anywhere again!!" I cried. "I've been walking around all day, trying to get people to buy this shitty magazine, and all these people say is get out, get lost, get a life!!!"

Mr. Hotness wasn't quite sure what to do. He obviously wasn't expecting a young college student to start crying on his doorstep over some magazines. He noticed that some neighbors across the street were watching. The man realized this all looked really bad and tried to comfort me. "Hey, ok, just calm down a bit," he said unsure of how to approach this. "Why don't you come in for a few minutes and rest if you've been on your feet all day. I have some drinks if you're thirsty."

I perked up a little, face red and tears running down. "You mean it?"

He smiled and motioned me inside. I walked in with a huge smile on my face, ignoring the fact that I had just made a complete fool out of myself.

As I walked into the house, the first thing I noticed was how untidy the place was. There were beer cans and clothes all over the place. The stereo system in corner was stacked with cds and cases all over in no organized manner whatsoever, and these was a large flat screen near the front window that had a pair of jeans over it. In other words, a guy definitely lived here.

"Sorry about the mess," he said apologetically. "Would you like a pop? A lemonade? Maybe a beer?"

"Lemonade sounds just fine," I said. I started walking into the living area, but my host stopped me dead in my tracks.

"Whoa there missy, no shoes in the house please! Can't ruin the carpet" as he went to the kitchen to grab my drink.

"Well that makes so much sense, seeing how clean he keeps the place," I thought as I slipped off my converses. I wasn't going to complain though, as my feet were seriously killing me after two hours of walking and standing.

Now as I mentioned earlier, I hate wearing socks. If I'm forced to wear them, I take them off as soon as I get back to my place. Even if it's cold, I'll just put on some fuzzy slippers and be quite content. Of course, I was in someone else's place right now, so I wondered if I should keep them on or take them off. That decision only took a split decision, and I popped those puppies right off. My lovely size fives got to finally breathe, and I was relieved to see that my polish had survived all the torture I had put it through. I took a seat on the recliner near the tv and propped my aching feet up on the rest.

My host came back out with two lemonades, and stopped when he noticed my bare feet. "I hope you don't mind me getting a little comfy," I said. "I really hate socks and look how sore my feet are!" I raised my soles up to show him how red they were.

He handed me the lemonade, not taking his eyes off my peds. "Umm...yeah they totally look tired out. No worries it's cool."

However, his body language said something entirely different. "Is there something wrong with my feet?" I wondered. "Do they stink, does he not like when people do that on his furniture? Is there something he finds gross about my feet?"

I tried to break the ice a little by talking with him. His name turned out to be Mark, and he graduated two years ago, when I was graduating from high school. He's 23 years old and working at the warehouse on the south side, lifting and delivering office supplies and paper. It wasn't his favorite job, but he told me it was paying the bills and loans back quicker than he imagined. He was living with his brother, who was away for the week on a business trip to Chicago. No girlfriend (my heart did a backflip), but he wasn't really much of the dating type and was working too much to be going out with anyone.

While all of this was happening, I noticed him sneaking in glances towards my feet. I'm very conscious about them, so it was starting to make me nervous. After a longer glance at my feet, he fake coughed and excused himself to the bathroom.

With him gone for a few minutes, or maybe an hour (since he's a guy and they take FOREVER in the bathroom), I tried to figure out what was so dang interesting to him. I took my right foot and brought it up to my face and gave it a sniff. "Ok, it does smell a little sweaty, but not from a distance," I thought. Looking over my feet, I didn't notice anything weird about them. "Just really cute feet...."

That's when it hit me square in the face. Mark must have a foot fetish. I honestly had never met a guy face-to-face that admitted to having a foot fetish, let alone a gorgeous man such as him. Back in highschool, there was this creepy nerd that I swore was checking out girls in the class, and it seemed like he was looking at the ones with their shoes off or dangling. Interested, I had tried several times to grab his attention by slipping off my shoes in class and having some shoeplay. He had taken notice, but never said anything to me. I got bored of it eventually, and I didn't have a class with him ever again.

I didn't want to jump to conclusions, so I tried to think of a way to find out for sure. About two minutes later, Mark came back out, looking less flustered than before. He sat down on a couch across from me and we continued talking, now mostly about me. Throughout our conversation, I made sure to wiggle my pretty turquoise-colored toes a lot, and occasionally stroke my left foot over my right. As hard as he tried, he couldn't keep himself from looking at them a few times when he felt that my eyes weren't directly on him. It seemed likely that he did, in fact, has a foot fetish and liked my feet.

As excited as I was, I couldn't forget about Veronica. I had doubts that she would appreciate me teasing a boy with my feet, seeing as she developed such a liking to them. Though Veronica didn't truly have a foot fetish, she loved my feet, and I loved hers obviously. This dilemma went on in my noggin, and I didn't immediately notice Mark trying to get my attention.

"Something wrong Madi? You look like something's on your mind." he asked with genuine concern.

I decided that I at least needed to know the truth. "Mark, why do you keep looking at my feet?" I asked, trying to sound as friendly as I could.

Mark gave me a nervous look. "Why do you think I'm looking at your feet, I've been talking to you sin-"

"I don't think Mark, I know you've been sneaking in glances since I took off my shoes." I interrupted. "Look, it's nothing to be embarrassed about. I just wanna know. No judgment, I promise."

A noticeable sigh escaped from Mark, and he thought for a few seconds. "Ok, I guess the cat's out of the bag," he said with a defeated tone to his voice. "Yeah, I do have a foot fetish. I've had it since I was a little kid. My old babysitter would play games with me with her feet, and as innocent as they were, I totally became hooked later. Your feet are just a lot like hers."

A lump got caught in my throat. As awkward as this situation was, his story had a bit of nice touch to it. "What do you like about my feet?" I asked, curious to know what was going through this guy's mind.

"For starters, I love the nail polish," he said, prompting a small smile from me. "But I also love how dainty your feet are. They're cute, and not all calloused and gigantic like other girls have. I'm loving how you stroke your feet like you were doing before."

Mark had a hard time facing me as he was talking about this. His eyes were now glued to my feet, and I was just a bit uncomfortable about this. "Have you ever told another girl about this?"

He nodded, "Yeah, and that hasn't gone over too well with most girls really. They think it's gross or that their feet aren't that pretty."

"And you think mine are?" I asked.

Finally, he faced me and gave me a nice smile. "Yes, they might be the best I've ever been this close to. You have amazing feet Madi."

"Ok, maybe this won't be so bad," I thought to myself. "After all, he's just being honest and polite.

We talked a bit more about how his fetish developed, about the few times he's gotten to experiment with his fetish, and what he looked for with feet. The longer we talked, the more comfortable I got. Mark was really a nice guy, he just had a hard time looking away from my feet every so often during our conversation. It didn't bother me as much, and gave my toes a few good wiggles when I noticed him looking, and he would direct his attention back at me. For my own reasons, I decided to keep my fetish and my sexuality to myself.

It was 8 p.m. when I looked at the clock. My heart started pounding, remembering that I had to be back by 9 p.m. to turn in my non-existent orders. That's when the idea of the century popped in my head.

"Mark, you seem like a really great guy," I said to him, "and I now I'm flattered that you think my feet are so pretty." He gave me an assuring smile, which I returned. "So, I want to make a deal with you." I got up and walked over to the couch he was sitting on and sat next to him, place my feet in front of him. "You can do whatever you want with my feet for the next forty minutes, but I need you to buy at least twenty of these magazines, so I can win that bet I was telling you about."

You know how to tell when a boy is really paying attention? Well, in this case it was when Mark's eyes nearly shot out of their sockets. "Twenty magazines?!?"

I gave him the cutest, most innocent look I could, then wiggled my piggies back and forth. "Do you want to get to know them a little bit better?"

I started giggling as I noticed that a bulge in his jeans was starting to develop. I had always had an easy time with manipulating boys, even as a child. High school was made easier by the constant interest of my classmates, believing the reason that I didn't date many of them stemmed from them not trying hard enough. Oh man, were they ever wrong.

Mark finally spoke up. "Ok, I'll do it, but you really need to be ready for this. When I start, I'm not gonna want to stop."

I nodded in agreement, "But nothing other than my feet. You got that buster?"

"Fine by me toots!" he joked, and then pinkie promised me that he would not touch my vagina. "Ok, which foot would you prefer first Madi?"

"Oh such a gentleman, letting the lady pick!" I joked back. "You may start with the left foot, kind sir."

Gently, Mark picked up my right foot and gave the sole a gentle kiss. I giggled a little, as his slight facial hair tickled on my soles. This was totally different, having a guy do that. Mark then began massaging my foot, "since you've been walking around all day," he pointed out quickly. Not like I was going to complain about a free foot rub.Oh boy, would Veronica be jealous right now. Technically, this wasn't cheating, because he wasn't sleeping with me.

I learned that night that guys with foot fetishes perform the best foot rubs on the face of the Earth. Mark effortlessly eased all the tension and soreness out of my feet, first by massaging the soles. He pressed his fingers hard into my soft skin, followed by gently stretching out my toes. Normally, my toes are my most ticklish spot, but as Mark explained, he'd been rough on the soles to keep the nerves from being too sensitive. He went on to my right foot after finishing the left, repeating the same process over.

At the most, this process took maybe ten or twelve minutes. By the time he was done, all the soreness was gone and I was nodding off. What he did next woke me right up though: he brought out his tongue and started licking my arches. There's definitely something different about how girls and guys use their tongues, and in Mark's case, it was kinda like he was licking a melting ice cream cone. He licked all over arch and sole, trying not to miss any spots and doing so fairly quickly. As if one foot wasn't enough, he took my left foot again and mashed it against my right. Resuming his "snacking", his glided his tongue between my soles and down to the balls of my feet.

As for how I was feeling, well, all I can say is it was a mixed bag. On one hand, this was the cat's pajamas: it rocked having someone massage and then lick my feet. However, I felt as though I couldn't really enjoy it as much with him going so fast. It's like when you eat your favorite food too fast and don't savor the flavor. As sweaty as my feet were, I knew there had to be some flavor. I knew I had to say something.

"Slow down there turbo!" I said in a bit of a commanding voice. Mark froze, with his tongue still on the middle of my arch, and gave me a questioning look. "How about ENJOYING my feet, rather than....well...what you're doing."