|
 Home | Interviews | Stories | Fun with E-mail | Polls | Advertising |
|
NEW YORK FOOT WORSHIP PARTY Foot Worship and More West 31st Street (Between 5th Ave & Broadway New York, NY 646-996-6194 Footparty@NYC-Foot-Fetish.com ONCE IS NOT ENOUGH $2.00 Bob Returns to His Scene of the Prime  OK foot freaks and toe tasters! In my dedication to bring forth the whole story, I returned to re-survey my previous narrative. My newer recent visit to the Friday night foot festival, a festivity making the Big Apple a totally juicy piece of fruit, permits the opportunity to ingest some nice changes. My reason for returning: (of course) to ensure that my first take and my first experience remain intact. When something is soooo good, I return to confirm that I did not record a fluke on the previous outing. And so, in determined dedication to my diabolical destiny of this writing job, I trapse my way back up to the lair of lust for ladies' legs and feet. More truthfully, I really have an urge to relive the previous experience, including the exercise of climbing a few flights of stairs to get into shape for the party. Some of the differences that I notice might seem somewhat minor, however, little things can mean a lot over the life span of a four hour plus party. The first pleasant surprise presenting itself to me comes in the form of diet soda. To a diabetic like me and to persons used to Equal, Splenda and Sweet & Low, because of their family kitchen table preferences. the sugarless sodas receive a welcome. Quite a few other guys agree. In fact, the diet sodas disappear quickly. The second obvious change to me constituted the music. The tunes did not change, but the volume gets kicked down, to the lower levels like the ends of the last party. The melody filters into the room quiet enough to permit people an exchange of ideas of both sexy and social topics. And, still, the volume possesses enough strength to maintain privacy in the private rooms separated only by curtains. Third, plenty of ice with plenty of people walking back and forth to the ice-machine to keep the aluminum pitchers filled. All these improvements seem as truly less than steel-toed considerations, but their introduction into the party immensely expand the pleasure of the more important aspect of the get-together: paying homage to the pretty and sweet feet of the girls plying the floor. And, "pretty feet" best describes the thirty to forty female attendees. I have never laid eyes nor hands on a pair of undesirable feet when I immerse myself in these erotic gatherings. At this party, like the last, the girls' feet come in all sizes, like the shoes on display in the window of a shoe store. The cute diminutive Giselle walks softly currying a big lick for her size five, or less, feet. The gothic Cynthia strides over the tides in her sculptured size elevens. I, fortunately, grovel at the feet of both girls later in the evening.  For readers who have deprived themselves of my first report on this club, allow me to restate the situation. The fee to pass by the friendly door-guy remains at $60.00 and a ten plus minute session in a private room, with any girl, requires a mere $20.00 investment. The party ebbs and eddies in tsunami excitement for both foot devotees and those having only a passing interest in peds. As mentioned, some guys stop by to meet the girls and feet become only the medium for their messages.All the thirty girls expect to have their feet sensuously caressed with hands and/or tongue and the 30 male attendees run to oblige. The private rooms, nicely small for intimacy, have water and paper towels by the small leather couches so the girls can have their feet cleaned at the sessions' endings. With regard to the private leatherette intimate rooms: these measure to within a cozy miniscule set of dimensions. Other rooms: easily handle three intimate people who can splay out with special inefficiency. All of the separating curtains of the rear rooms have body parts and limbs sticking out into the aisles and into the next intimate den. Finding an unoccupied private chamber can sometimes cause some difficulty, which amounts to a plus. I probably carry the persona of a voyeur. After all, I review DVDs almost five days a week. Also, I stand in as a third person with some of my escort advertisers when they may need a guy in their scene when doing certain high-rollers. (Thank heavens for the Penile Implant.) Seeking the vacant room adds to my enjoyment. I license my chosen piece of eye-candy for my next session to lead the way to find an available niche. She pulls aside the curtains lining the maze of erotica and inadvertently supplies me with very sexy sights. Yes my dear reader, I could tell you things I have seen as I faithfully jog behind my chosen girl foot hostesses in the past and throughout this night. My retinae have goosed glimpses of more than feet being slathered with devotion. I don't rise to rudeness by looking too long; but only a flash can make my day. Nicely, no one objects when said curtain does become parted and does expose additional swatches of peoples' skin. The good nature of the people and of the party means that everyone has an aura of the Sixties-Style "peace" to further encourage the pleasure of the evening. There exists no toeing of the line here… just fun.  On the evening represented by this writing, after saying my "hellos" at the entrance way to those I know from the past party, I psychologically skip on back to the BYOB bar. Behind it an energized male guest makes drinks for the attendees from his own private alcohol stock. Talk about friendliness. While enjoying the drink I speak with some of the other guys. I solicit critiques on the girls and I ask about the guys' views of the party. Naturally, and enjoyably so, the girls constantly meander about us, adding tidbits of information to our conversations.
My first session comes to me as a double-girl type. While having my drink in front of the soda table, three young girls disgorge from the hallway into the dancing area and work their way toward my observation point. Amanda (white skirt and blouse, white pumps with very curly blonde hair) approaches me, makes eye contact and introduces herself. Amanda, a regular, introduces me to Suzanne (rolled up jeans, wedgie sandals with medium length blonde hair) and Shannon (red skirt, white top with heeled sandals). I find it very obvious that Suzanne and Shannon have attended their first foot party with this visit, and conversation confirms this fact later.  After a short getting-acquainted interaction, Amanda asks me if I wish to have a two-girl session. I banter that I have no idea what to do with one girl let alone two, and after some conversational fun I select both the determined Amanda and the bubbly Suzanne. We go to one of the larger rooms toward the end of the club away from the bar. I pass a $20.00 bill to each youngster and realize at that very moment my predicament: I have absolutely no idea what to do with the two girls. I sit between them and continue the discussion and we turn to the direction of feet for a topic. I place both girls' heels on my lap and massage them while talking about when the girls noticed that some guys' have a predilection for their feet. Amanda mentions I should get on my knees and do Suzanne's feet. Amanda's feet had moisture from the white heeled pumps and offer a great damp texture to my hands, while Suzanne's feet had their comfort in a smooth dryness and a slight leather aroma on her soles. Like a soccer ball, my head goes from one pair of feet to the next. Amanda tells Suzanne how easy this job is, using indirect and subtle language and Suzanne looses her nervousness, admitting that she has to hold in the tickling sensations she feels every now and then. The session finishes as un-erotic, because we all three spend too much time talking. Still, the idea of giving Suzanne her first session makes my session the fun part and the time with the girls adds to the fun of the night. "We Make Plans to See Each Other Financially and Personally in A Few Weeks"  Next I spot the vibrant Michelle, a delight I met at the last party I attended, bouncing around the room like a light footed puppet. This very beautiful Chinese-American, gives me such a charge with her wide full lip smile and very white teenage teeth. I request a double session and we double back to a less than double-sized couch. With Michelle, this small room situation improves the tryst. Michelle sits on the couch, extends her feet toward my kneeling torso and I give them the wet blessing they deserve. When I complete administering my tongue to her soles, from luscious toes to soft heels, her legs spread into a wishbone sculpture. I move my face closer to her crotch and digest the aroma from her cotton thong panties through my olfactory nerves. My tongue visits some secret places exposed by my fingers and I move my body upright. After tonguing her belly-button, armpits and neck, we look into each other's eyes. She urges me to move into a lap-dancing position, with her straddling my lap and me hanging wrapping my arms around her waist while a kissed her soft neck. Also, as the last time we met like this, we make plans to see each other financially and personally in a few weeks. (The last time I never called her, but I vehemently promise a difference this time.) I go over the details of what I want, when we will meet and what she will and will not do.
Michelle, after my enjoyment in washing her feet with the bottled water and paper towels, I extend my hand in helping her up from the black couch, and we amble back out unto the dance floor area, putting us both in play again.
Later, I ball the balls of the feet of Mia (about 5'9" in sandal heels, with short blonde hair and a dark skirt) followed by a heeling with Stacy (extra long tinted curls cascading down past her slim shoulders, wearing a white blouse and white skirt). The next ten minute gig I share with a stunning gothic girl standing at least six foot plus. Cynthia trains as a Mistress, does so in one of the BDSM places in NYC and discusses getting into the heads of fantasizing guys. The up-and-coming mistress looks terrific in her black dress filled by her lean body. I coat her feet with saliva, industriously separating her toes and kissing the spaces in between. Her size eleven feet drastically turn me on and I promise to Email her for a personal foot session and some other exotic training.Before long I enter a room with a nice Jewish girl from Prospect Park. Her demure dressing style attracts my attention with a sensibly long dark shirt, blousy white top and heeled sandals; certainly not Orthodox and definitely not Hassidic, but just right Reformed. She lets me fondle her short black hair and long earrings as we test each other's sex quotient. We compare stories between our youthful perceptions of Catholic school boys and Jewish girls, in both directions. We nuzzle, cuddle and stroke. I give her feet short shrift, because I want her to keep breathing the vital breath of her body into my mouth. Next come, consecutively, African-American Jasmine, in a red dress standing a diminutive five foot four inches in strappy size sixes, and Jennifer with her cute long straight blonde hair, standing five seven in her heels. These two interludes include a lot of chattiness, some tongue dancing and only my minor attention to the girls' arches. Since the night winds down, I foray for future contacts and these range in the scope of my radar. My next encounter kicks ass. I mull over the decision as to whether or not its high time to hotfoot it back to my home when Julian and I physically bump into one another in the hallway. While eye-to-eye and toe-to-toe, I ask the Viennese beauty if she wishes to have the tattoo on her spine kissed. Her black eyes form a quizzical expression as she answers in a cute accent, "I don't have a tattoo."  "Can I kiss your spine anyway?" I ask again."Of course, I would love that very, very much." As we enter one of the cloth covered cubicles, Julian kneels on the couch with her belly away from me and pressed onto the back of the divan. Her feet, soles looming a foot lower than my face as I kneel on the floor, have heeled strappy shoes covering them. I reach around to the roofs and sides of her feet, unclasp the straps and remove the shoes. I lick the inside leather, from toes to arches to heels, and try to flatten the depressions her feet have caused to the insides of the sandals. In a mad frenzy, I furiously clean the bottoms of her feet with my tongue. I take little love nips out of her balls, arches and heels. I suck the bottoms of her toes. I work my way over her heels, up her ankles, along her legs, into the grove at the back of her kneecaps and up her thighs. After planting a kiss on each of her leather covered ass-cheeks, I attempt to kiss her anus. The tautness of her shorts, caused by her ass-cheeks, deprives me of that probing opportunity. I ask her to roll over to a sitting position.  Julian hangs her knees over my shoulder blades and uses the pressure of her calves to bring my face closer to hers. "I need two more sessions with you. OK?" I request."Please! Yes! Do!," Julian replies, as she takes one knee off my shoulder and brings the foot connected to that shapely leg up to my crotch. The friction through my pants compels me to reach down and adjust my dick for it to have a more formal and sensuous introduction to her cute foot. Julian's youthful suppleness grants me the ability to position her where the tops of her toes and the insteps of her left foot can stimulate my erogenous zones while I hold the ankle of her right foot pressing the ball and sole of that foot tight against my open mouth. Looking into her eyes, over her tippy-toes, my libido churns out of control. While kneeling before the princess of the party, my hips start their primal sex ritual by oscillating to and fro. Julian removes her right foot from my face and makes a soft receptacle of her arches to accommodating my base motions. Before long I lie on my left side on the floor. I reach down to replace her feet with my right hand, but her toes incessantly push my fist out of the way of her expert foot motions. I need her to continue the pedal action, but I also need her feet for my sucking pleasure. I use both hands to bring one of her arches to my face and I manually help her other foot bring me relief. Like a roped and downed bull, my breath comes out of my face in snorts and shudders. Under the influence of so much pleasure, I have totally sucked and licked every pore of her feet. Only when I enter my full state of flaccidness can I cease and desist in my oral orgy.  Cleaning her feet culminates the great session. With water from the plastic bottle and with the paper towels, I pay almost loving attention to getting her sock stuffers fresh and clean. After the cleansing, I kneel for a last cuddle and neck kiss. I ask her if she does private sessions. She seems surprised and reluctant to answer me, and her head moves in the direction indicating negative. Chances are that she did not hear what I said, she does not want a private session with me, or, she does not do private sessions. Finding a girl who understands a foot fetishist and does full-service tops my agenda. I want Julian again and will get her. I want to see if I can get her on a one-to-one session for a few hours.Editor's Note: For those who wish to read the first report concerning this New York Foot Party free, click on this link: New York Foot Party |
For more information, questions, comments, please E-Mail us Home | Interviews | Stories | Fun with E-mail | Polls | Advertising QMAX |