O male libido, how you mystify even us male possessors of the same!
I can never work out to my satisfaction whether such cravings are kind of sweet, in a d’awwww sort of way, or vaguely depraved and horrifying.
I suppose I should really move this diverging (and diverting) branch of the discussion to one of the sexuality threads, but you find these things where you find them.
There used to be used shoes on eBay as well, usually described as having a very visible imprint of the wearer’s foot inside. Distinctly different from the usual shoe listings
Honestly a foot fetish is pretty bog-standard at this point. Sometimes I just get random messages on social media from dudes who claim they’ll pay me to rub my feet.
To be fair, it’s a lot rarer than the “romance scammers” who just message shitty poems and claim they love you. Eventually they ask for money, but none of them get that far with me.
Back when I was fifteen years old, I had the appearance of a twelve year old boy. And I had an extraordinary talent at the time for attracting street pervs.
I saw all of the classics; everything from closeted priests to rentboy pimps doing the “touch their chin to check for stubble” thing. I even had someone try the “would you like to come upstairs and see my etchings?” line verbatim once.
It didn’t particularly bother me; they were easy enough to spot, never caught me, and were occasionally amusing to mess with.
Which is why I once managed to get a guy to pay me $20 for a pair of old gym socks…
See, that I could follow. It’s the specificity of the soft and fluffy socks that gets me.
Of course, it’s by this point been decades since I discovered there was a Usenet alt.binaries.pictures.erotica.loose-socks newsgroup. I thought it had to be some sort of euphemism for something really strange, so I checked it out. Nope, just pictures of fully clothed young women with big really loose socks fallen down around their ankles.
Yup. I do love a well-turned-out set of tootsies, but I’m with you and Nanner when it comes to the socks. I guess it’s akin to the used-underwear deal, to an extent, but neither appeal to me. Laundry is laundry.