No one would have ever pegged my girlfriend, Janet, as the kind of girl who’d be into showing off her feet. I met her senior year when we were both working at the college library. She was petite and pretty, with long brown hair and glasses — certainly not mousy, which is a word often attached to female librarians. Instead, she had an abstract quality suggesting she was always thinking deep thoughts, but she also had a wicked sense of humor.

We’d been dating maybe five months and were right at that point where we were just getting really comfortable with each other. Comfortable enough that we’d stopped worrying too much about whether the other considered anything we did or said was weird. At that time, Janet’s thing was watching adult movies online, and if you’ve spent any time at all doing that, you know some of them go into kind of odd territory — and the fetish-related stuff is the least of it.

Well, one night Janet was on the couch, watching videos on her tablet, and I was reading a mystery novel. Suddenly, I looked over and saw Janet had her tablet balanced on her tummy and was struggling to get her socks off.

Once they were off, she tossed them to the floor. She slowly lifted both feet, rotating them at the ankle and energetically wiggling her perfect piggies, like she was a dancer doing a complicated warm-up routine.

“Do you think they’re pretty?” she asked, tilting her head and examining her peds out of the corner of one eye.

“Yeah,” I said, quite honestly. “You’ve got great feet, hon.”

She did, too. They were nicely shaped, with tapered toes, narrow ankles and soft, beautifully arched soles. I’d always loved her feet and often thought it was a pity she didn’t go barefoot more often.

Janet looked pleased, but then she held up her tablet and asked, “Prettier than this girl’s?”

She played me a brief snippet of a blonde holding up her feet the way my girl had just been doing. The model was wriggling her toes, making kissy-faces and trying to look sexy. She was a nice enough looking chick. But I can’t think of much to say about her other than that she was blonde. Her feet were nice, but her toes were kind of stubby, and I’ve never thought that was particularly hot, foot-wise. Still, what are you going to do?

“This girl,” Janet said, “claims she makes, like, a thousand bucks a month selling pictures of her tootsies.” She wiggled her own toes again, right as the girl on the screen was doing the same. “That’s good money.”

And that was that. I went back to my book, and Janet went back to her videos, foot-related and otherwise. In due course, we went to bed and had some unusually nice sex. Her feet didn’t play into our shenanigans, but I couldn’t help but wonder if the video she’d shown me had excited her more than she had let on.

Not long after that, Janet launched her own website dedicated to her feet. Pretty soon, she had another where people could sign up to give her “donations.” I thought it was funny. But our sex life as a couple got better and better from that time onward. As I plowed her with my steely cock, Janet would moan and writhe underneath me, fingering her nipples. Now and then, she’d rise up and bite my shoulder — sometimes a little hard.

I found I kind of liked that. Sex with Janet had always been good, but her new attitude had me hurrying home from work so we could get an early start on our nights of fucking.

Anyway, I chalked up her jump-started libido to the success of her new business. I figured if things continued to go well, maybe she could quit working at the library and do it full-time.

After a couple more months passed, that’s exactly what happened. Of course, we were two frugal students living in a sleepy college town, and our expenses were pretty low. But we got to go out to dinner more frequently, and Janet did some extra clothes shopping. To us, her online income was impressive.

Emboldened, Janet soon branched off into other kinds of foot-related photos and videos. In one, she talked about how hot and smelly her feet were, affecting a deep, husky voice as she described how nasty her ballet flats got after just a few days. There was apparently a big audience for ballet flat material.

Another clip consisted of a close-up of one of her soles, while I — discreetly and off-camera — ran a feather over them. And you’d never have known it from her normally sober demeanor, but Janet was hella ticklish. She giggled all through the scene, while she begged me not to tickle her “poor, cute little feet.” That particular video left my dick achingly hard and left her gasping and damp with sweat — much like the fuck-session that followed.

Showing off her feet to strangers seemed to leave her in a state of permanent arousal, which was apparently contagious. Again, I was not complaining about this development.

Anyhow, Janet’s horny public ate up her performances — and demanded more. Some of the fan mail she got was pretty wild. Her viewers were certainly passionate. I think they understood that Janet — unlike, say, the blonde — really liked what she was doing and didn’t think anyone was weird for enjoying her flaunting her feet.

One night she told me she had an idea for a new video. She had already expanded from bare feet and ballet flats to stocking feet and other kinds of shoes. Naked soles would always be hot, she said. But different footwear offered her the opportunity to make a ton of varied videos without going to the trouble of getting other girls to work with her. After all, she reasoned, you only had one pair of feet, but you could have as many shoes as you could fit in your closet!

I pointed out she still had to actually buy the shoes, but she simply smiled and said, “Tax write-off.”

The new video my sweetie had in mind involved her changing from one pair of shoes to another, then another, and so on before she finished up barefoot. Kind of like a continuous striptease, she said. She wanted to do a run-through for me first, without filming it. Just to gauge my reaction.

“What do you think?” she asked eagerly. But before I could tell her what a cool idea I thought it was, she was scampering off to the bedroom to gather up an armload of her latest shoe-store acquisitions and some old favorites.

And with that, as they say, we were off to the races.

Janet started the show naked, but for a pair of those chunky suede boots that were in fashion not too long ago. She didn’t wear her pair much. Like the ballet flats, they tended to get a little rank after a while. Also like the flats, they had a big following among Janet’s constituents for that very reason. It was a funny to see her sashaying around the living room in the chunkers — as we always called them — trying to look like Miss Sexy. But the affect was undeniable. I might have been softly chuckling to myself, but the sight of my girl in those boots had me grinding the heel of my palm against the bulge in my pants.

Finally, Janet sat down and pulled off the boots to reveal feet clad in shimmering, silky hose. She lifted a foot up to show me her sole, giving me a smoldering look.

“Wish you could smell this,” she whispered as she dangled one boot from her finger with a look of mock disgust on her face. “It’s just awful!” Then that was it for the chunkers. She tossed them aside and quickly wrestled herself into a pair of thigh-high boots, like something a ’60s go-go dancer would wear. The effect this time was quite a bit more sexy.

“Power to the people, man,” she purred, flashing me a quick peace sign.

Then off came those and the hose, which were quickly replaced with a pair of nylon no-shows. After that, she slipped on a pair of classic stilettos and strutted around the room. Next, she ditched the heels and no-shows and stepped into high-heeled sandals. I noticed she hadn’t completely fastened the little buckles on the straps, but she was on her feet again before I could warn her to be careful.

Janet, as you’ve probably noticed, moved kind of quickly.

“Feels so nice to air out my toes,” she sighed, pirouetting before me. Then, in what she apparently envisioned as a kind of grand finale, she jumped on the bed and did a high-kick with both legs, sending the sandals flying into the air. They landed with a thud on either side of her. That, of course, was the reason she hadn’t fastened the buckles.

“Ta-daaa!” she cried, spreading her arms. “Well? Do you think it’ll be a hit?”

“It’ll be a best-seller,” I said sincerely. And — not to jump ahead or anything — it actually did become one of her best performing clips.

But I’m getting ahead of myself.

After she’d finished her stellar demonstration, she pulled one foot into her lap and rubbed it.

“Good, now how about you come over here and give me a foot massage? Us girlbosses need some pampering.”

A few moments later, I was rubbing Janet’s feet, enjoying the leathery scent that lingered on her skin as she groaned with pleasure.

“Are you developing a foot fetish of your own?” Janet asked slyly.

Was I?

I lifted one of her perfect peds and helped myself to a taste of Janet’s toes, making her giggle a little.

Yes, I think I definitely was. But fortunately, her kinks were perfectly in step with mine.

After a few more licks, my cock was impossibly stiff. I tore off my clothes and plunged my erection into her syrupy pussy. We fucked like crazy and came in no time flat. But lucky for us, the night was still young.