"My feet/shoes are killing me"<best sentence in

[HerFeetHurt]

Over the years I've had the opportunity to directly hear women say this phrase,or a very similar variant,maybe...60 times.Drives me crazy every time,I remember the exact details of the encounter,dating back decades.

First time I was 6 years old,at a wedding.My aunt was standing behind me.Suddenly I feel pressure on both shoulders.She has 1 hand on each shoulder,steadying herself.She draws in her breath with a hissing sound,"Ahhh,these shoes are killing me!" I look down to see her easing bunioned,stockinged foot out of black high heeled pump,resting foot on top of shoe as she continues steadying herself with hands on my shoulders.

Last time was 2 nights ago,beautiful co-worker,short so she feels she needs to wear heels despite being on her feet hours & hours,looks directly into my eyes as we pass each other in the hallway.It's late,she's been on her feet in 2 inch tan dress pumps for many hours.I can see from the way she is walking her feet hurt,but she gives the payoff line, "My feet are killing me!"

Looking for pics or videos of candid foot pain,limping,dipping,where pain is the primary focus. Visible band-aids,deformities such as bunions,blisters,or corns,and/or facial views of distress/pain/exhaustion are huge turn-ons. I will try to share my images/videos in exchange. Thanks!

Here's one of my favorite videos:

[paradigm88]

That line always feels a bit like an invitation, a plea for help. It's the damsel in distress in action.

I had a friend in college who often suffered from poor choices of shoes. My best friend and I once bumped into her at a career fair. She was appropriately attired - skirt suit, nude hose and low-heeled basic black pumps (they may have been Mary Janes). As we shared our experiences, she kept shifting her weight, heelpopping ever slightly and complaining that her feet were so sore. At the time, I thought she fancied my friend, so I said nothing. Had I thought differently, I might have guided her to somewhere she could sit to slip those shoes off for a bit.

Later that year, my friend and I were chatting in the dorms when she came by. Her cute-casual attire was often jeans, nylon socks and some heeled loafers. We were standing around chatting in the hall and I noticed her leaning against the door jamb, saying nothing, but heelpopping and eventually dipping. My friend seemed totally oblivious; if it had just been the two of us, I could have asked her to come back to my room and sit down.

A third time, we were on an end-of-the-year trip, and despite the fact that we would be walking, she had left the hotel wearing the same shoes. After a mile or two around town, she started lamenting her sore feet. It was a while before we were at a place where we could all take a breather; she wasted no time taking those shoes off and stretching her cramped stockinged toes. Years later, I can't help but wonder, offering her a lap to rest her tired feet in could have made things play out a lot differently.

There are some women who will play the opposite game, too. I had a co-worker in her early twenties years ago. A few times, she'd visit my cubicle and dip one of her heels, or she would just take the shoe off and stand in one stockinged foot. I "caught" her dipping one time and asked if she should sit down; she replied "No, I'm fine, my shoe just isn't as comfortable today" and slipped the offending shoe off. Another day, she was filing, and she was balancing on one three-inch Mary Jane while resting one black-hosed foot atop her shod foot. The other shoe was on its side. She said the shoes were fine, but sometimes when she was standing, they would hurt; she just liked keeping one on for the extra height while filing in the top drawers.

A lot of young women now don't seem to wear heels long enough to be in pain. I suppose it's better for them in the long run...but then, for some, it just means that heels are instantly uncomfortable...

[HerFeetHurt]

There is a wonderful sense of intimacy,at least for me,in a gal admitting verbally that her shoes/feet are killing her.It's like she is sharing a secret with you. I agree,often it is an invitation to be helped,or even an indication she is open to a personal relationship. I love ministering to a woman's sore feet,not just massage,but applying bandaids,heping her remove her shoes,helping her walk. Piggyback rides,or carrying her in front of me,as husband carries bride over threshold,are wonderfully erotic!

I also love when a woman is obviously in foot distress,but won't admit to it,tries not to let anyone see or know. I had a beautiful latin boss years ago,she was a department manager at a hotel,so had to dress professionally.She wore dress mules with a closed,wide toebox, and a wide,stacked 2 inch heel,open in back but always with slacks,so the shoe looked like a pump to the casual observer. She wore these same shoes every single day to work,for months and months.Very rare for a woman.I knew it was because these shoes looked dressy enough for the job,but were more comfortable than most or all of her other dress shoes.

Then,one day I see her and she is wearing black pumps,modestly pointy toebox,the heel was not exceptionally high,but about the same as her previous mules,2 inches,and narrow,unlike her mules. Of course I watched her carefully that day & night, and with each passing hour her pain became more obvious,by the way she walked,even by her facial expression as we interacted. She tried hard not to let her distress show,to maintain a normal gait,but I could tell,and it excited me. Towards the end of the night,we were busy working in a banquet room,she called me over the radio, 'Could you please bring the credit card printouts to my office,I left them by the micros machine in the kitchen". This was very unusual,as she was in charge of printing out & filing the receipts. So,I got the receipts,took them to her office.She was sitting down,behind her desk,feet not visible at all. I gave her the receipts,along with a slightly irritated look,like "Why did you have to interrupt what I was doing to bring you your receipts?" I didn't say anything,I just gave the "look",then turned to go back to work.

I had already turned away when she called me by name, "I'm so sorry,I know you are in the middle of a big job,but I just can't walk anymore,I can't!" My heart leaped at her words,but I turned back calmly,"Why,what happened??" "It's my feet,they are killing me! I wore my new shoes today,stupid! I thought they would be okay,but they have destroyed my feet! Look,I can't even put my shoes back on!" She swung her feet,bare,not stockinged,out from behind the desk,showing red,inflamed bunion joints,corns on her baby toes,and blisters on her heels. I bent close to check them,after all,she was extending her feet to me! Oh Arelis,your poor feet! You need band-aids,I think.I can get you some from security,they always have them." She looked directly into my eyes and said only one word, "Please?" Later that night,as we were finishing,she,very reluctantly,asked me if I could bring her car by the employee entrance,the employee parking lot was about 3 blocks away. So I did,came back to her office to let her know the car was there. She was sitting behind her desk,she sighed deeply and I could see she was trying to ease her feet back into her pumps,as she grimaced. "Here,let me help you", I offered,going to her side of the desk and holding out my arm. She gave me an embarassed look,but took my arm as she stood up, steadied herself,and leaned on my arm as we slowly hobbled through the hallway to the employee entrance. There was a ramp going up to street level,just past the door,and she literally cried out in pain,stopped,gripped my arm more tightly,as she hobbled up the ramp. One of my MOST erotic foot pain experiences!

[tex]

Great stories! I love when a woman complains that her feet aare killing her. I posted a story about my old boss on another message board some years ago and am reposting it here, enjoy:

I will tell you the story of my boss. We started together about 10 years ago. She would alway wear heels and hose. I remember the first day at out office after training. There was about 15 minutes left in the day and she sat down across from me and took off her highheeled pumps. She said these shoes hurt. It's time for sneakers. She put on her white socks and sneakers.

Later she went out to make sales call with a trainer. They parked downtown and she had to walk making calls in her black three inch pumps. There was a business dinner after and as I was walking into the restaurant while she was walking out. She said, "come with me. Jimmy, (the trainer), is driving me crazy and my feet are killing me. He had me walk everywhere today in these heels and my feet are falling off."
She had to put money in the parking meter so I walked with her to the car. About a block away she handed my some quarters and asked if i could walk down and feed the meter. "My feet hurt and I can't walk", she said. I did and as I turned to come back and she was leaning on another meter dipping both feet. At the restuarant I noticed that she was reaching down from the table. I dropped my spoon and bent down to see that she had both pumps off and she was massaging the ball of her foot.
The next day she called in sick and the following day I asked what was wrong. "Oh, my feet were killing me from the day before so I spent the whole day in my comfy white socks."

She was a great dipper. Whenever she leans on anything she slowly slips off her shoe and wiggles her toes so slowly.

Two other incidents come to mind. There was a big traffic jam one day, and she had to park about four blocks from the office. There was a slight incline. She was wearing 4 inch suede pumps. When she walked in, she said," Oh my feet are sore from walking." She later asked for someone to give her a ride to her car because her "feet were sore."

The final one was one where she was running a training seminar with all the big shots coming in. She was dressed to the nines in three inch stilettos. She had to run up and down the stairs between floors to keep her eye on things. At 11:00 she stopped and talked to myself and my desk mate. She stepped out of her shoes and curled her toes. She said that her feet were killing her.
At lunch I walked by her office and saw her pumps discared on the floor. She was walking barefoot with the weigth on the outside of her foot toward the office to put the pumps back on. She moaned "Oh my feet."
The next day, she walked in wearing flats. She said," my feet are still killing me from running up and down those stairs in heels. She didn't wear heels for a couple of weeks after that.

She has now gotten older and put on some weight. She hasn't worn heels for about 2 years now. It's a shame because she was a great dipper.

[paradigm88]

I'm sure there are other threads reserved for bank stories, but this one sort of fits here. It's part of the reason I never minded going to the bank; you always had more potential of shoeplay than if you were, say, at the grocery store. Of course, it's hit or miss like anywhere else; some tellers wear heels, some wear flats, some don't dress up for the part. My local branch had one bank manager who never so much as dipped in my line of sight, and her fellow tellers joked with her for being able to last a full workday plus in 3-4" heels.

One Friday evening I happened to swing by to deposit my paycheck, and the assistant manager was behind the counter with the other tellers. I wish I remembered the exact details, as she wasn't the teller I watched most often. But as she did my transaction, we were discussing the long day and I believe she went so far as to reach down and show off one of her empty 2" pumps, lamenting that she'd been working all day and her feet hurt. When she left the counter, she was padding around in her knee-length black dress and nude-stockinged feet. It's a pity the other tellers didn't follow her lead!

More recently, I was chatting with the new assistant manager (a few years younger than me, a pretty girl!) at her desk while she was checking something on my account. While we were sitting there, I heard the unmistakable sound of something clattering against the modesty panel of her desk and to the floor. Either she knocked over something under the desk, or one of her shoes fell off! Of course, that's a tough situation because there's little you can do or say to draw attention to the moment, at least without sounding a little questionable. She was probably barefoot anyway, but that's just sour grapes on my part.