Passion and foot worship have a history and dignity; for Chinese medicine, feet are the origin and basis of human health. For the Arabs, however, women’s feet carry a story with them, usually drawn with tattoos made with henna. In our culture, the foot and the shoe that surrounds it, provide many indications about our personality and history: women with heels love to seduce, please and like each other, those with amphibians are tough and tough, while they are serious and incorruptible if they wear. moccasins or lace-up shoes.
Foot worship includes numerous practices, such as licking, kissing or sniffing your partner's feet.
Here are the main ones:
feet kissing: the practice of kissing the feet.
feet licking: when you lick your feet.
feet sniffing: practice in which you sniff your feet, preferably sweaty and unwashed.
feeling from feet: an act in which food is eaten using the feet as a plate.
toesucking: act in which the toes are sucked.
feet massage: get your feet massaged.
foctjob: practice where you masturbate using your partner's feet.
trampling: act in which the submissive is trampled by his partner wearing high heels
Subjects who are afraid of being emasculated focus their attention, becoming morbid, on only one part of the body. In this way you avoid seeing the naked woman and having to do the same, showing the penis and exposing it to danger. Psychoanalysis has indicated early sexual intimidation as an accidental condition that rejects the normal sexual goal and encourages the search for a substitute. Freud originally explained fetishism as a manifestation of castration anxiety. The object chosen as a fetish represents the female penis, a displacement that helps the fetishist to overcome the anguish of castration.
The foot, as well as the footwear, is one of the first things a baby encounters in the mother, especially if we think about the moment in which she crawls. So it remains imprinted in the child's memory and can turn into the object of desire. The passion for this part of the body can also be linked to the desire for submission, which can be easily associated with the foot. There are various practices that involve both the bare foot, clean or not, or just the toes, both footwear, tights and stockings: new, used, whole, with holes.
I smell the stench of your darkness, your perverse looks, your bloody long tongues and your sharp claws that tear the light. You are worms that crawl to eat the soil you have beneath you. Humanity has nothing good and only a facade to get something in return. The true human soul is made up only of darkness that envelops the entire planet. I see empty people with no will to live. People who lose days of life without wondering why they die inside. Inside they have monsters that devour them and as soon as someone approaches they tear them apart to rob their soul. Life is a continuous devouring each other without even anyone noticing. We are beasts that devour everything and everyone in order to survive. A battle all in our heads that is amplified in the world.A stain contrasts with your whiteness. It is black, black bewilderment, black disgust. Some would barely notice it, others would not consider it at all. I, on the other hand, can’t see anything else. It is there in the center of my gaze, I try to eliminate it but I cannot because it is sticky, it has stuck to you. I have dirtied you, defaced you, I scarred you. You, so beautiful, so innocent … How can I still look at you the same way? How am I not going to think about that scene turning in my mind like a restless beast? How will I still feel your hands, your body? It happened a while ago, but for me it’s like it was today. The disgust makes me tremble, the disappointment makes me close my eyes. Maybe it doesn’t matter to you, it was just to try, a game, nonsense … Nothing to do, these excuses don’t work. I try to keep an open mind usually, tolerant, understanding. This time, however, after she heard you speak, she curled up on herself, like a piece of paper that burns and slowly chars. I just want to curl up and forget everything, and then open my eyes and find it was just a dream. Because this memory is so strong, because the disgust is so intense, because … I am cold inside and you are in sleep and you are still dreaming about that day.
He looks at her with the eyes of love. And she doesn’t see, she doesn’t understand that she doesn’t make sense, she doesn’t have a purpose, a dream, an aspiration, nothing. Nothing is what you hear. No past, heartbeats, breaths, monotony, do what you have to, make them happy. The look that from time to time rests on what is “normal” but which for her becomes more and more distant, unattainable, almost inconceivable. The present is no longer anything, the warmth, the beauty, the sweet scents have arrived. But nothing always remains her, so eager to resemble her childish fantasies, so hopeful and yet so dry and dumb, cold and empty. The desert doesn’t want flowers, does it? It makes them thirsty during the day, cold at night. The desert welcomes passing guests, but then lashes them with its storms and hurries to erase their footsteps. He doesn’t want anyone, the desert. Or maybe yes, but he doesn’t even know how to manage himself. Hot, then cold, storms, comatose calm. He is furious with himself, he is disillusioned. He thinks that he will not make it, when he has to spread his wings and fly, he will realize that they are made of paper, so thin as to be transparent. He will realize that the imagination is just smoke. And it will fall into the void.
Is this what it feels like when you’re in love? The heart that beats fast as soon as you see him, the smile that appears on your face as soon as someone names him, the lack you feel when you don’t see him, the scent you smell even if he is not close to you, the thousand songs that you dedicate to him the phrases you used to read and say “I will never be like this” yet look at yourself now. You had built yourself a thick armor that no one would be able to break down, yet it was enough for him to look at you to make you weak again. Because yes, love makes you weak. When you love someone, you depend on that someone. A message, a gesture, a word is enough to completely turn your day around. Yes, it completely upsets your love.And she was like that. He spoke to you with an unparalleled enthusiasm, he looked you in the eye and smiled, and the next moment he stared at a point lost in the void, she was like that, she was able to go from one emotion to another in a second. A memory was enough. And she was beautiful when she remembered, she enchanted herself with her mouth open, wrinkles formed on the sides of her eyes because she squinted and squeezed in the effort and then, even more tender, she put a hand in front of her mouth, realizing what she was doing. he was thinking. And most of the time not to be beautiful things, despite her innocent appearance, because she blushed and looked around that nobody saw her, then clapped a hand on her forehead as if to say: what have I done ?! She was like that. It would get lost behind her and it would come to her mind and one would choose the air, break her heart, a sense of vertigo as if she were about to sink into a black hole. To keep herself anchored to reality she bit her lips until they bleed and stuck her nails in her palms. And then maybe on one side she regretted it, of certain details, but on the other side she smiled mischievously. She was like that. He was half angel and half temptation.Kisses against the wall. Kisses given with force. Kisses that take your breath away. Kisses given by mistake. The best mistake I could have made. Kisses off guard. Kisses given on the threshold of a door. Kisses with the tongue. Kisses without a tongue. Kisses with bites. Quick kisses. Long, slow kisses. Kisses on the neck. Kisses on the forehead. Kisses goodbye. You kiss that when you are angry you push him away by forcefully saying to leave you alone but then he pulls you hard and kisses you and you try to resist but you surrender to the touch of his lips. Kisses are the one thing we can’t avoid. The only temptation we cannot resist.And there is nothing more sublime than letting oneself go to temptation. The perversion of the forbidden, the adrenaline of error, the pleasure of discovering hell, the absurdity of denying heaven. We are fire and flame, what burns us, what burns us. We are heroin injected slowly, we are an absurd perception of ‘after death’. We are the time that stops, and the souls that touch. Ripping flesh, the most captivating pain I know. We will invent new sensations, explosions, nuclear disasters. We will be the thrill that pervades the body, the sensuality that intoxicates the senses. We will be cocaine, addiction, we will be a mistake, we will be the devil. There is nothing more beautiful than the perversion and the desire for it between two bodies that have understood. Understood, perhaps, deadly.The temptation The pleasure of an instant A simple action Small enscattante. And slowly it destroys Your poor soul And slowly it melts you That magnanimous pleasure. And fall and yield In the waves of time And fall back and recede It’s just a moment. Everything seems to take away While the heart despairs Praying for my soul My heart hopes. Your God you pray For salvation After you don’t fool yourself But it is your only certainty. Calling for forgiveness, Between sobs and salty cheeks, It is your only gift, You pray, with your veiled pupils.
THE PRODIGY OF IDEAS 