And how are we all this fine afternoon? I’ll tell you how I am, damn smelly that’s what! Nothing like having the gas shut off for three days to really put a dampener on your showering routine. Seriously Lovers, I tried hopping in for a cheeky rinse yesterday and my arm started to turn blue after only twenty seconds! Sure, part of that is my terrible circulation, but the other half of it would be the fact that it’s fricking freezing!
So, now that you’re all aware of my pungent predicament, I think it’s time we move on, yes?
Back to FORGS!
Now where exactly did we leave off? Ah that’s right, erotic rope! That must mean foot worship is next!
Strap yourself in Lovers, this could get wild!
Well, that’s what I thought anyway, but as it turned out the foot pampering class was rather G-rated.
I walked into the room, ready for some foot action, and was greeted by a cute kids paddling pool. (It didn’t exactly scream sex to me.)Volunteers were in the process of filling it with water (warm water, thankfully). It was obvious the organisers didn’t expect many participants, as there were only about ten chairs set up around the pool. By the time class was ready to start however, there were at least twenty of us. (I guess people weren’t keen on the other workshop, as it involved ‘erotic dancing’. Not my cup of tea at all. I prefer to dance one of two ways, either alone or drunk.)
Anyways, the twenty of us stood around the pool as Mistress Minx and Kinta began to explain the whole idea of foot worship. I was glad it was these two running the workshop again. I really enjoyed their sexy vibe and they made the whole room feel closer. Which is kind of ironic because boy did we have to get close to fit into that kiddy pool! Although it was supposed to be a ‘cleansing ritual’ full of lingering silences and attention to small sensations, it turned into a bit of a squeal fest as we all clung to each other, desperately trying not to fall over.
It may not have been what Kinta and Minx were after, but it was still fun, and that’s what counts, right?
After the squealing and giggling had subsided, it was time to pick a partner. Now Lovers, I have no issues with feet, they don’t disgust me in any way, and I have had many shoved in my face over the years (mainly by my big sister in order to gross me out with her ingrown toe-nail. It really was truly disgusting.) So if I can put up with that, a stranger’s foot poses no problem for me. Perhaps it was lucky for my partner that I am so open to all types of feet, as the poor girl had lost both her big toenails after a hiking trip.
And when I say lost, I mean they were still there, they were just brown and dead.
But hey, I was just happy to have a partner I could have a laugh and a chat with. I got to go first in the receiver role and my god was it great! Basically I got my feet massaged with yummy smelling oils by a pretty girl for twenty minutes. What’s not to love? I didn’t really see the sexual side of it so much at that point, but I definitely remembered how much I adore a good foot massage.
Sadly, my twenty minutes came to an end all too soon and then it was my partners turn. We moved away from the pool as it was now time to rub coconut oil onto each others feet. I studiously rubbed away (no pun intended) and was relieved to hear the sighs of contentment coming from my partner.
Oh yeah, I’ve still got it.
So up to this point in class it had basically just been nice foot massages for everyone involved, but as I said, there wasn’t much of a sexual side to it. That was until it was time for the demonstration. We sat in a coconut glazed circle and watched on with awe as Mistress Minx and Kinta showed us how foot play was really done.
It was fascinating Lovers! I’ve never really been turned on by feet, or by watching other people get their feet on, but after this I definitely have an appreciation for it.
They took turns in giving and receiving, and demonstrated just how sexy a foot could be. When these guys massaged each other’s feet, there was a such a sensuality to it, as if magic powers could be coaxed from the sole of a foot if stroked correctly.
Then there was the toe sucking. As erotic and cool to watch as it was, my partner and I both looked at each other and gave just the slightest shake of the head. No toe sucking for us today. I was secretly relieved she wasn’t into it either. Even after a bath and a rub down I wasn’t confident that my feet would be tasty enough too go into some poor girls mouth. And her toenails made it a definite ‘no’ for me chowing down at toe-time.
However, what we were interested in was the foot torture. Oh I know it sounds intense and scary Lovers, but you’d be amazed at how much the sole of your foot can take! Kinta laid out an assortment of paddles, whips, brushes and all manner of utensils for us to experiment with. Watching the demonstration, we were taught to use the one to five system in order to figure out how much pain the receiver was in.
Eager to begin, I decided to deal out the punishment first. I chose my weapon; the good old school ruler. With my hands placed safely over her toes (never hit people on their toes Lovers, that’s where doctor’s visits come in) I got to it, slapping her firmly on the ball of her foot. At least, I thought it was firm.
“How’s that?” I asked, peering around to see what finger she would hold up. She turned to me and held up one finger (luckily it wasn’t the bird.)
“Just one?” I asked incredulously.
“Yeah I can barely feel it.” She scoffed.
Barely felt it? Well, I thought, there’s only one way to remedy that! I proceeded to punish her foot with wild abandon, slapping and smacking that bad boy until even Akon would have been proud of me. Before long two then three fingers promptly popped up, letting me know my smacking had been successful.
Woohoo, champion smacker right here!
We had previously agreed that we would only go up to three as far as the pain threshold was concerned, so it was time to try something else. And boy did I try something else Lovers! I slapped her with whips, rubber mallets, foam mallets, hair brushes and basically anything I could get my hands on. It was actually a hell of a lot of fun!
Then it was my turn.
As I had done previously, my partner started out tentatively, slapping me lightly on the heel of my foot, inducing me to snort and hold up one lousy finger. Once again, as I had, she went to town on me, smacking me until I could hear her panting with exertion. I must admit there was a strange satisfaction to it. In my head I was thinking, “yeah hit me harder, do it, do it! Is that all you’ve got? I’m such a badass!”
That is until she hit me really hard and the voice transformed into “oh god please don’t hurt me, I’ve still got such a life to live! Mercy, mercy!”
So all in all foot fetish was great fun. I must say, there really is something genuinely sexy about paying so much attention to a part of the body that doesn’t start with a p or a v.
I’m still not exactly sure how to work it into any type of regular foreplay though. I can’t imagine kissing down a guys chest, past his bellybutton down to his inner thighs and then breathing, “turn over baby, I’m going to give your feet such a smack.”
Hmmm, might be a bit niche for most of my men.
Still, it’s nice to have a good assortment of play in the foreplay bank.
Now Lover’s we get to what so many of you have been waiting for; Nuru Bodygliding!
But what is this bodygliding you speak of Claire? I hear you ask with trepidation. Well Lover’s it’s an experience and a half, I can tell you that now! So, you keen to keep reading?
I thought so.
Well, I’ll start off by saying that you should never, ever go into a bodygliding session straight after a big lunch washed down by a pint of Coke.
Which is exactly what I did.
What? I was really hungry and the burger place across the road was calling me all day, plus adding double bacon was only a $1 extra. What else was I supposed to do, just ignore the bacon? Pfft, not an option Lovers.
So, I waddled back into the building, adequately stuffed with bacon and beef, only to remember that this next workshop was ‘clothing optional’ which pretty much always meant ‘everybody will be butt naked.”
Still, I couldn’t take the bacon back, so I just had to work with it. I gingerly sat down on the tarp that now covered the full length of the room (yes you read that right Lovers, tarp, like from Bunnings, now replaced all carpet in the room. Quite an intimidating sight for a newbie I must say.) The more I sat there the more nervous I became. Did I really want to get naked with all these people? I mean, there was nobody I particularly disliked, but I really wasn’t in the zone to have sex with anyone. I was here to learn, not get laid (although I wasn’t averse to that happening if the moment was right. I’m still human after all.)
Just as I was considering the possibility of running, the leader of the group began to talk. His words instantly calmed me.
“Now guys, just so you know, this is not a sexual experience.”
Calmed me yes, but also confused the bejesus out of me. You’re saying that getting naked, on a tarp, with fifty strangers is not sexual? Dude, what could be more sexual than that?
He went on to explain, “you’ll find that this experience will be more childlike. You’ll find yourself regressing back. Usually with a lot of laughing and squealing.” He added with a wink.
Hmm, childhood regression? Sounds… weird.
But as they say sometimes you’ve just got to chuck it in the fuck bucket and move on, so that’s just what I did.
I was here. I was going to have this experience. No turning back (apart from regression of course.)
We were told to pair up or get into groups of three for the first part of the session, and I grabbed onto Darren, my erotic rope partner lightning fast. We may not have known each other that well, but I knew him more than anyone else in that room. We were then joined by a nice middle-aged bloke in need of a group. We of course accepted, being the nice polite people we are.
But that’s when I realised what would be happening. It was going to be a Claire sandwich.
No turning back, no turning back, no turning back. I repeated the mantra in my head as everyone began to strip off. I closed my eyes, gave myself a mental kick up the ass and whipped my shirt off before I could change my mind. Then my pants. Then my bra.
The undies stayed on.
As I’ve stated before Lovers, I am not endowed with the moistest of muffs and find it difficult to become sufficiently lubricated much of the time. However, what my lubeless love tunnel lacks in putting out the good stuff, it certainly makes up for in the opposite manner. In other words, if I took my undies off on a tarp smeared with Nuru, my muffin would suck that stuff up like a creepy crawly on crack.
So, the undies remained firmly in place.
Now that everyone was naked (sans for me and a few other ladies in g-bangers) it was time to begin. We were instructed to massage each other (without any oils or anything, this was just the warmup.) I tentatively reached towards the boys, who sat cross-legged in front of me, and started massaging their legs, just above the knee.
Below the knee felt way too PG for what we were about to do, but going straight to the upper thigh was a bit forward. Apparently in my head there was a certain decorous way one should approach these things.
The boys reciprocated and we fondled each others arms and legs for little while, just trying to ease into things and get comfortable. That was until the group next to us motioned for us to copy their style. They were doing a massage train of nakedness. The first guy sat with his legs crossed, enjoying a massage from the girl who sat directly behind him, her legs encircling his waist. She too was being massaged by the guy directly behind her, who seemed to be ignoring the whole ‘non-sexual’ aspect by focusing all his attention on her love puppies.
Subtle dude, very subtle.
My two group members looked at me for approval, their eyes shining with delight and excitement. It would have been like saying no to your new puppy. Your new puppy with two penises sure, but still cute all the same.
So I got up and clambered in between them with all the grace of a lopsided flamingo. In other words, I got up, them toppled onto them as I lost my footing on the slippery tarp.
No chance of sexiness here boys.
We were doing the train massage thing for about ten minutes and I was just starting to get a little bored when all of a sudden a volunteer appeared next to us with a wine bottle.
Geez, it’s a bit late to offer up some Dutch courage now mate, I thought to myself grumpily, but then he motioned for us to hold out our hands.
With just a touch of trepidation, I did as he asked…. And then the games began!
Oh Lovers, the oohey, gooey, stickiness of this stuff was just amazing! And to top it all off? It was warm! We gleefully cupped our palms together, greedy to receive as much of the Nuru gel as we could. When the gel had been described to us, I hadn’t been all that keen, as the stuff was apparently made from seaweed. But as our leader had advised us, it was completely odourless and evaporated like water.
Well, sort of like water. Think really really thick water. But warm. Like soup.
Soup water. Yeah, think warm soupy water.
I’m really not selling this stuff well am I?
Ok let me tell you how things progressed after the initial excitement. We cupped the Nuru in our hands reverently, admiring its texture and the delicious feel of it before quickly slapping it onto each other before it slipped through our fingers. We started just on each others backs before adventuring around to more… juicy parts.
There was no touching of the wangs you dirty bastards!
No no, it was more chests, inner thighs, butts and all those areas. In an instant though, the frolicking turned forlorn as we realised we were out of gel! What to do now? Luckily one of those handy volunteers was always available to top us up whenever our smiles turned upside down. There was one moment however, when we ran out of the sacred fun-gel and all the volunteers were on the other side of the room. To my surprise, one of my boys let out a whoop of excitement and splattered himself face down on the tarp, before rolling over onto his back, effectively marinating himself in Nuru that had slipped off our bodies and onto the tarp.
He was like a happy little chicken breast, basted and ready for the pan.
“Try it! You’ve just got too!” He laughed.
And he was right, I just did.
After I had sufficiently soaked up enough Nuru from my squirming on the tarp I felt a gentle tap on my shoulder. I looked up to see both my group members staring off to the side, transfixed.
“Look, just look,” said Darren breathlessly.
I looked up just as he said and my breath was literally stolen from my lungs.
What did I see Lovers? Find out next time!
Pickup line of the week: Is your name Google? Cause you have everything I’m searching for!