I have noticed that films and often TV programmes now start with a series of warnings about the horrors that will follow, so that the easily offended, startled or scared can opt-out. The most extreme example was when I watched the excellent Shaun the Sheep movie, which warned nervous cinema-goers of scenes of mild slapstick!
In keeping with this fine tradition and to minimise the risk of later lawsuits, this post will being with quite a long list of warnings.
1. This is the most expensive blog post every produced for GofaDM as I had to purchase £1.03 worth of haberdashery items from John Lewis to bring the auteur’s vision to the public.
2. This blog will continue naked photos of parts of the author, though I think all (or some, ok a few) of you will agree that they are very tasteful and critical to the plot.
3. This is probably the silliest blog post yet produced – and that is saying something. As often with particularly silly posts, my massage therapist must bear some responsibility.
4. You will eventually discover the joke which is the primary cause for this post, I would like to apologise now for the disappointment you will feel.
So, with the public health warnings out of the way, and any readers of a nervous disposition safely out of the room, on with the filth!
If the internet has taught us anything then it is the fact that there is nothing in heaven or earth (or even Popper’s World 3) which cannot be used by at least some of the world’s population as a stimulatory prelude to (in the immortal words of Ivo Graham – an irritatingly young, very dry and funny young man) some “downstairs admin”. Try and hold on to that thought through what follows.
When I am face-down being massaged my therapist provides a little “rest” for my ankles so that my feet can be displayed to their best advantage (my therapist would probably insist that it is provided for my comfort, but we know better). Somehow this fact led the conversation towards the idea of folk who enjoy(?) a foot fetish – oddly, despite metrication being old news, I have never heard of anyone with any sort of fetish for the metre (or any other SI unit – with the possible exception of the Henry and that may only have been in a music hall song). Now my own feet are terribly neglected – I think because there are so far away from HQ – and so I find a gland-game based interest in feet incomprehensible. Still, if you can’t beat then then join them – well, I have to find some way to monetise all the time I waste on this blog – and so I am presenting my own feet to the GofaDm readership in the hope of appealing to a much broader (if still niche) market. It may also be some compensation to my feet: they may have been (at best) ignored for nearly half-a-century but now they have a chance to grab some time in the limelight!
Now, I will be the first to admit that I have no idea how pedal-extremity based erotica works, and I am not stupid enough to try and web search on this matter, so what follows will be my own take on the genre. I thought we’d start with a plain vanilla, nude shot of my left foot (well, it did OK for Daniel Day Lewis).
A little boring perhaps, so maybe my right foot which is sporting a bit more of a dangerous, bad-boy vibe after the middle toe was (probably) broken a few years back. We can’t be sure if it was, and as my then doctor told me, “there are only three important bones in the the foot and this isn’t one of them”. Be prepared to swoon…
Then again, I think a lot of the excitement in the erotic field is supposed to come from the human imagination, and these naked shots leave little scope to indulge your creativity. So, how about my right foot peeking coquettishly from behind some transparent black mesh? Would that get your motor running?
Still able to keep your powder dry? How about a little foot related bondage action to get the old juices flowing?
If your rocks are still “on” following that last graphic image, I’m starting to run out of ideas. I am vaguely aware that a lot of soi-disant sexy underwear makes use of black lace (not the band) and so I thought I could give that a go. Well, I keep socks in my underwear drawer so that makes them underwear as far as I’m concerned.
Actually, if I’m honest that last shot is a bit of a disappointment to me. I’m not really a fan of lace (though I do now own a full 50cm of it – see above) – I’ve never liked it in clothing or bed linen. I’ve never bought or used a doily and view net curtains (which often seem all too lacy) as the work of the devil. All this despite my origin story having its roots in Nottingham which, as you will know, was the centre of lace making for the old Empire. No, I hate the stuff – in fact, I have come to realise that I am a complete lacist!
Yes, that was what all this was building up to: my spontaneously generated joke (when on the massage table) about being a lacist (which WordPress keeps trying to correct to start with an R and I have hopefully prevented). I truly think that I have now won comedy and that, in terms of my wit, it will all be downhill from here. Tune in to the next GofaDM post to find how fast I will be going!