September 2004

Would Jesus Approve?
Dear Jane,

I desperately need your help. I have been battling my foot fetish for quite some time now—pretty much my whole life. I used to feel guilty and ashamed of it. It took me many years to even admit it to myself.

I still feel guilty about it because of my Christian upbringing. I’ve bought magazines then thrown them away. I’ve gone through this cycle of repression and giving in so many times. No matter how I try to repress it comes back at me hard and next thing I know I’m having sex with some girl and sucking on her toes.

I have no quarrel with conventional sex and being sexually active, but fetishes are not meant for Christian men, or people (like me) who have made an effort to return to the Church.

So, I ask you what’s a healthy way for me to accept this and deal with it. I’ve been up on fighting it. I’m tired of going through that cycle. Maybe if I accept it I can reduce it down to a mild foot fetish, and it won’t come back at me a hundred times worse than it was.

If you could offer my ideas on how to manage it, and tell of support groups of something like this, it would really help me out.

Wants To Be Good

P.S. Are those your feet pictured in your advertisement? If so, they’re beautiful! What size, may I ask?

Dear Good Boy,

I once knew a man from Texas—a big, strapping manly man—who loved pretty ladies’ feet more than his ten-gallon hat. Like you—like all foot-lovers—he loved to surrender completely to the mystery of a woman’s pretty feet. The size of the foot, the curve of the arch and instep, the texture of the skin, the toes, contour of the heel, the ankle, its odor—each aspect held a special sexual magic for him to caress, bite, lick, kiss, fondle, and breathe in. But—like you—he felt horribly guilty about his predilection. So he sought help.

To “cure” my friend, the therapist he consulted gave him capsules to carry with him at all times. My friend was instructed to break open one of the capsules any time an erotic thought of a woman’s foot tip-toed into his mind. The ammonia smell emitted from the capsule was noxious enough to banish all thoughts of feet (or anything else) from his mind. Over time, the therapist said, the fetish would be cured.

Indeed, the capsules worked. But not in the way the therapist intended. By the time my friend had popped open the third capsule, he realized that smelling the capsules was as “crazy” as smelling feet—and a lot less enjoyable. He figured that if he’s going to smell something, it may as well be a turn-on. So he went back to his first love—women’s feet. And—this is the important part—he went back with some acceptance of himself he hadn’t had before.

The lesson here, my sweet Good Boy, is we don’t choose our turn-ons; they choose us; we may as well enjoy them. You were given a gift of adoring women’s pretty feet. Clearly you’re conflicted about this. On one hand you want to “cure” yourself for the sake of your Christian beliefs; on the other you are asking my foot size (8).

Many seek spiritual comfort in the church, Good Boy, even if they feel they can’t follow doctrine to the letter: occasionally a woman feels a need to seek termination of an unwanted pregnancy, some men practice homosexuality—and both groups identify as good Christians. Scripture is open to interpretation; faith is individual. But for heaven’s sake, Good Boy, nowhere does Jesus condemn a man for worshipping a woman’s feet.

I don’t recommend it, but if you are committed to your fetish but truly want to hide it, you have a couple of options. Are you a young man? If so, why don’t you make your fetish work for you and consider joining the profession that is the envy of all foot-fetishists: that of a podiatrist. In his excellent book, The Sex Life of the Foot and Shoe, William Rossi writes of one he knew personally. The doctor confessed that he of course concealed his fetish behind his professional demeanor—but had to wear special elastic and moisture-proof underwear to hold down his frequent erections and conceal his spontaneous wettings. In a bigger hurry for a job and don’t want to while away time at med school? You could get a job as a shoe salesman tomorrow! In either case, you’d be able to exercise your love undercover.

The good news and the bad news are the same, Good Boy: there is no cure. And the more you try to repress it, the more it will rage. The only way to tame any fetish is to accept it and integrate it into your sex life. Only then will you find happiness with yourself and with the object—both of them—of your affection.

All in the Family
My Dear X-traordinary Queen,

Your replies to letters are filled with sensitivity and lack of judgment. And humor. Thank you, Jane. Would you answer mine in an upcoming issue of Leg Show?

When I married my wife, her mom came as baggage. My wife is a schoolteacher and went to Europe during the summer with six other teachers to study the cultures as part of their continuing education.

While she was away, I had sex with her mom almost a dozen times. No . . . it was not planned by me—it just happened. The first time was a week after my wife left. Her mom and I were having breakfast on a Saturday morning. She came down with a sheer robe on, no bra underneath, and thong panties. Looking back, I think she planned to seduce me.

To my surprise, she was a magnificent lover. She had no inhibitions; she was assertive and took charge. It was so easy. After the first time, subsequent sex was easy. It was the first time anyone had entered me. Her fingers gave me pleasure inside that I’d never before experienced. She took the lead and guided me . . . She was never in a hurry to orgasm, and would instruct me not to cum—to hold it—to where I knew I would burst—and she’d tell me to slow down still more. I loved the slow tease, and everything else about her as a lover.

The summer’s over now and my wife is back. I have said nothing about her mom. Her mom has said nothing. But she tells me privately that she still wants me. This woman has no limits to her desires and is not hesitant to describe her needs to me over and over again. Which, of course, arouses me to no end.

What should I do? Of course, I want the mom again. She was the hottest lover I’ve ever had. Do I continue to try to find sexual satisfaction with my wife’s mom on the side—it’s not hurting anyone, is it? I’m a much more contented husband with the mom in my life. Am I in any way hurting my prim and proper wife, whom I do love, by having sex with her mom?

Wants Both

Dear Two-Timer,

Of course you want both. We’d all love to have a hot lover on the side. Such a lucky bastard (a carefully chosen word) who got to live it up all summer with your wife’s uninhibited thong-wearing mom.

If you think your wife doesn’t know—or won’t find out—you’re as clueless as I think you probably are, poor baby. Grow up and ’fess up. If you’re so certain you’re not hurting anyone, what’s holding you back from telling your wife? (Hmm, such a happy family moment that would be.) Seriously, it would be particularly painful for your wife because she’s being betrayed twice: by her mother as well as her husband.

If you were my husband, I’d hand you the mom on a silver platter and tell you two to have a nice life. But if you are lucky enough for your wife to forgive you, get the trouble-making mom out of your house and spend the rest of your life trying to make amends to your wife. Honestly, she deserves better.

wants to cum (of course)
Mistress,

my desire is tease and denial. i believe my true fantasy could be realized through a one-to-one session with a mistress. i would like that mistress to be You, above all others.

if i may say, You are a very dominant figure in my life and i have experienced the most intense erections whilst listening to Your voice and seeing Your beautiful self. however, i have never jerked off to You, as i think it is something to be decided by the woman who gives me such an erection. so i ask, may i have Your permission to masturbate over Your photographs?

slave

Dear Slave,

First of all, my darling Slave, I am not Miss Manners, but I’m afraid there’s a stylistic aspect of your letter that makes me especially cranky. Who started the notion of capitalizing some pronouns and not others, regardless of where in a sentence they are? I would rather not feel like I’m sitting next to God, thank you very much. You . . . you are an “I,” not an “i.” We are equals, precious boy, please understand this. We play games with erotic dynamic and balance of power and we enjoy doing this very, very much. However, I would prefer not to play games with the English language.

Now, Slave, you may get down on your knees while you read the rest of this. I do not engage clients, so get that out of your mind. But I find it flattering to have a sweetheart like you pay tribute. So, go ahead, pull your warm cock from inside your pants. Open your palm and show me that treasure you just unburied, sweet baby.

Begin stroking yourself, even so lightly. Make the pleasure last, precious. More important, because I do love to watch, make MY pleasure last . . . . Mmmm.

Stroke yourself to hardness as you look at my photo. Remember that I sit above you. Know that I know your secrets. That I know you are trying to sneak a peek up my silky stockings and beneath my skirt up to my silky panties. You know, baby, I very much would like to see you continue to play with your cute little hard-on until it impresses me . . . . . Would you like to have your happy ending now? Wouldn’t that feel good? Hmmm? Or should we wait ’til next month’s issue of Leg Show?

Hmmmm . . . I rather think the latter.

Jane Vargas holds a Ph.D. in Human Sexuality and is the owner of X-traordinary Talk! She can be found on the Internet at www.xtratalk.com. Ask for Jane’s advice on any aspect of fetish sexuality by e-mailing her at jane@xtratalk.com. “Advice to Boys Who Need It Bad” is a registered trademark of X-traordinary Talk! Please note that Jane’s advice is from the viewpoint of a caring, softly dominant woman; it is not intended to replace professional therapy. All questions are “real,” although may be edited for length.

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