Chapter 12 Chapter Six Feet on the Sofa

— Christina Here I would like to solemnly declare: All the following statements are true, and there is absolutely no lie.If you don't want to know what some men do outside of work (don't worry, I'm not talking about football, beer or poker here), if you want to retain some positive views on men, then I suggest you don't Read on. In fact, whenever I hear people talking about those talk show hosts, I can't help but think: It's okay to have a little "fetish".Can we even say that a fetishist with a good nature is better than a guy who is violent, likes to kidnap people, or just likes to fuck with animals?Besides, "fetishes" are not contagious like some diseases, so generally speaking, no matter what this type of person is "obsessed with", there is no danger.

Of course, to say it is a beautiful thing, it is absolutely not.Think about it: If my boyfriend fantasizes about things on other women the way other men do about me, I'd be crazy if I wasn't.I believe that "heroes and women see the same thing", so I dare to say that whether it is a "shoe lover" or a "foot lover", most of them are unmarried men, because if a man hangs around on the street all day long, Looking for prey everywhere, think about which woman can bear it?Why not talk about football, beer, and poker. OK, I'll start from the beginning now.

I met my first "fetish" person when I went to Cologne to study at university.In the general traditional concept, Cologne is a city that is very inclusive and relatively sensual.There were carnival-goers, very open-minded people, people doing all kinds of arts, and some weird government officials.So in such a crowd, a strange person looking for prey twenty meters above the ground would not show at all.So of course I didn't notice the guy at all. In fact, it was also because he was so ordinary-looking, about twenty-five years old, with a dull beard and hair, and a blurry face, anyway, he was not inconspicuous at all, and he would not make people feel dangerous at all.Except for his "hobbies" of course, but I didn't know about his eccentricities at the time until the following conversation started:

"Excuse me ma'am, may I ask you a question?" "Okay, please." "Can you sell me the socks you're wearing?" "what?" "Socks, the socks you wear on your feet." "Socks? The socks on my feet?" As I said, he was the first "fetish" I encountered in my life.I, who was always quick to respond, suddenly became dull.But when I heard him say, "How about a hundred marks?", my spirits were lifted immediately, and like lightning flashed in my head, I repeated the message I had just received clearly: "— A hundred marks?" That's right, because he repeated: "A hundred marks!" You must know that I was not a well-paid best-selling author who wrote about "shoe fetishes", I was just an ordinary college student That's all, an ordinary college student wearing brown boots and black socks.The black socks on my feet cost me ten marks, and now they cost me a hundred!Wow!

"no problem." "Great, can I trouble you to sit on the steps here?" I admit that I was a little scared at the time, but because it happened in a bustling shopping mall, and the guy looked like a small civil servant who just took office, I told myself: "Whatever, take it off !” As I untied my shoelaces, I pretended to ask a few questions casually. "What are you going to use for buying these socks?" (Answer: masturbating while smelling them.) "Do you often buy socks like this?" (Answer: About once every three days.) "Why did you just see my socks?" (Answer: You make me feel good, I've been following you for about fifteen minutes.)

"Where's the money?" (Answer: Here, here.) In addition to the one hundred marks, he gave me his contact number (both at home and in the office) and even included an offer: "If you like, we can do another deal, and the money will be collected by the post office. way." After speaking, he turned around and left, disappearing into the crowd in the blink of an eye.That's the end of the whole thing! I stood in the same place alone, and felt that I had a lot of new experiences at once: First, it turns out that some men like to have sex with socks, and they don't wear them on their feet, but on their noses.

Second, the sex trade can be done not only by phone, but also by post office. Third, standing barefoot on the streets of Cologne in December, it's cold! There are also several questions lingering in my mind at the same time: First, have I become a prostitute? Second, is that young man in gray just now considered a dangerous "rapist"? Third, how can he afford such expenses? For the first question, I quickly had an answer: no, I don't think so.I quickly came to this conclusion, because I've never liked to spend too much time and energy on "think and know there won't be any great answer" questions. (The so-called extra time here refers to about two minutes.)

As for the answers to the other two questions, they will only be answered in the sequel of this story. The sequel to the story took place two years later, when I had graduated from school and was working at a highly regarded women's magazine.Once, a few close colleagues met for a dinner (I believe everyone drank a little wine), and I mentioned the above experience to them.Wow, interesting, this story!He even gave you his phone number, which is really not easy. "You must write this story!" First of all, you need to know one thing. Articles related to the theme of "sex" are very important in women's magazines, and many of the articles in this area come from the personal experiences of female editors and reporters. (For example, there is an article called "Unfortunate sex is a basket of baskets", which is a wonderful personal experience of a female colleague: she found out after she finished with her lover that her sanitary pad was stuck to her during the whole lovemaking process. Ass!)

So there was a follow-up visit.In addition to the above-mentioned young Martin from Cologne (by the way, he was paid a pair of socks for the interview), there was also a psychologist who helped me clarify what I didn’t know that year. Two questions answered. Regarding my second question, the two interviewees agreed: people with "fetishes" are never as dangerous as rapists, because basically they have changed the object of their anger from a real person to a rapist. became a lifeless thing.To put it more bluntly: this kind of person would rather rape my shoes and socks than rape me!So deep loneliness, isn't it?And what a pig, what a sad pig!

Regarding my third question that year, the two interviewees had different opinions. The client, Martin, felt that his fascination and love for "things under his feet" was nothing more than a hobby. "This is actually the same as other people spending money on travel or surfing." Regarding this statement, psychologists believe that it is too much to beautify and "whitewash" the original intention.People with "fetishes" often have the weakness of addiction, and this addiction usually intensifies, and stronger and stronger doses must be used to satisfy it.In plain English: Buying shoes and socks from women will degrade people to the point of committing crimes!I can absolutely attest to this.

Here comes a new question: Do I also have a "shoe fetish"?The answer is: don't know.I really don't know.But one thing is an indisputable fact: since that incident, I and this kind of people have suddenly become constantly involved and entangled. My feet seem to have lost their "virginity" ever since, and there are always new "shoe fetishes" following them.Oh, not only behind, but also in front of the feet.Especially after I participated in a popular TV talk show, the situation became the most serious.At that time, I was invited as an "expert" to talk about related topics in the program (because the production unit had read my articles), and the response after the program was extremely large, with phone calls, letters, and different invitations like a snowflake Flying, it's overwhelming, and my feet have never been seen by anyone!I can't help but secretly sigh, the world is getting worse, and men are becoming more and more difficult to understand nowadays. Take the example below.One day, when I was taking the subway in Munich, I met a young man named Folk Blumen in jeans.He looked to be in his thirties and insisted on giving me his business card.The subway drove past the train station and headed towards Odinwen Square. Along the way, he told me that he was a special actor of the National Theater and had just finished writing a script.As he talked about his play, he glanced surreptitiously, wistfully, and wistfully at my feet (in Gucci Turkish blue snakeskin peep-toe pumps) and began lobbying for me to be the leading lady in his play , because the play was called "Talking Feet" and he thought it would be perfect for me. The content of the story is about a female secretary who implanted two computer chips into her body in order to perfect her working ability.Unexpectedly, these two chips slipped from the body to the soles of the feet. As a result, her feet have an autonomous consciousness since then, and no longer obey the orders of the brain. "You think, two feet are like an independent and living entity," Foko said emotionally, "For example, when they are in a restaurant, they suddenly jump on the table by themselves. Isn't it too humorous? It's so funny." Crazy!" I couldn't agree more with his last words.I politely declined his invitation, and when I arrived at the next subway station, I hurriedly jumped out of the car and trotted away quickly. To be honest, afterward, I paid attention to the news on the art section of the newspaper for a while, wanting to see if there was a stage play whose title was related to "feet".As I was flipping through the newspapers, I couldn't help thinking horribly: what would have happened if I had accepted Mr. Folk's offer to be the heroine of the play?I sat on his exclusive red velvet shoe fitting chair, and slowly took off my little sandals under his hungry and excited eyes.Or when we went to a restaurant to discuss further cooperation, when the roasted pork knuckle came to the table, he deliberately slipped it under the table so that he could greedily suck my toes when he leaned over .Ugh, it's disgusting, these "foot fetishists"! But there is another kind of person who is equally disgusting and annoying. Do you know who it is?People who are against "shoe fetishism".There are some inexplicable men who don't appreciate women's slender feet at all, never buy shoes for their female partners, and never pay attention to what shoes their female partners wear on their feet.When flirting tenderly, he never touches, let alone kisses, the feet of the other party, and at the same time hates his partner fondling his feet. No matter what, this kind of person should never come into my door, sleep in my bed, or have anything to do with me.Because, when I want him to surrender at my feet, he probably won't even find my feet anywhere!