The insurance man used to come to our house and would actually make himself comfortable by stepping out of his shoes while speaking to my parents. What was weird was that he didn’t even ask permission! I was like he thought his job as an insurance man was so important and had so much juice that he could come into a client’s home and step out of his shoes without asking or anything.
But anyway, I didn’t care because I was a kid with a foot fetish and the sight of him stepping out of his shoes and lounging about in his dress socks straight-up turned me on!
I would stand in the kitchen doorway and pretend to be reading. That’s because my folks would disapprove of me standing in that doorway at that particular time if I was doing something else. But I was reading, and reading was a good, positive thing, so…. So anyway, while I was pretending to read I’d take quick glances at Mr. Hansen’s dress-socked feet while he discussed insurance and so on with my parents.
The charcoal socks (and they were often black on certain days he’d come by) were sheer enough that I could see his bare feet through them, but not at the toes. I mean, I could see a good portion of his long toes in those socks, but not all because the toes of the socks were reinforced with thicker material. That drove me crazy.
And I swear I could smell his feet!
Sometimes I think I imagined that when I was a kid. You know—that I only THINK I could smell them from that distance. Plus, if I could smell them from a distance, surely my folks and Mr. Hansen himself would have been able to smell his feet, right?
But mainly I’m CERTAIN that I could smell his feet back then. I mean, smell is the most powerful memory sense, right?
I can remember getting little whiffs of his foot fragrance while I stood in that doorway pretending to read and keeping the erection in my pants from being visible!
