A Supernatural Canadian Shoeplay Adventure

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A Supernatural Canadian Shoeplay Adventure

Post by OceanWaves3947 » Sun Dec 31, 2017 7:13 am

NOTE: This belongs in the Dreams, Stories, And Reality section, but, for some reason, when I click on "Post New Thread" in that section, it instead takes me to the forum's main page, so I'm posting my story here instead. I humbly request that a moderator move it to the proper section, and thank said moderator in advance.



By OceanWaves3947

It was the first time in my life that I had ever visited Quebec. I was now on a charter bus, having crossed the U.S.–Canadian border on a field trip with my college. We were going there as a part of a project for my French class, as Quebec is the only Francophone province of Canada, owing to its history of colonization by France and subsequent takeover by the English. While the bus clambered on, I was listening to a local radio station on my iPod. It was a talk show, on which the local legends and traditions of the region were being discussed. There was one, in particular, that caught my attention. It was a legend with shades of the supernatural intermingled within it. The story went something like this: Back in the 1700s, a woman had murdered two of her husbands, and was then hung, with her corpse later being displayed publically in an iron cage shaped like a human body to decompose, a gruesome practice called gibbeting that was commonly done to the remains of hung criminals back in that bygone day and age. Stories were then spread wide and far of werewolves being seen whispering secrets in the dead woman's ears, and of the skeletal remains coming to life at night and cavorting with tiny demons of a sort with a sharp horn, like that of a rhinoceros, on its nose. Eventually, the cage, with the skeleton still inside it, was taken down and buried, only to be rediscovered by two gravediggers nearly a century later. It was then taken by the famed circus showman Phineas Taylor "P. T." Barnum and put by him into his museum, where a fire destroyed the last of the bones of the fabled murderess. However, the cage survived, and, indeed, could now be seen on display at another museum.

Enthralled by the story coursing through my earbuds, I did not notice when we finally reached our destination. It was a museum showcasing unique artifacts of the natural history of Quebec. Inside, it was a well-furnished space with couches and recliners present, showing that the managers had spared a thought for the convenience of the guests. It was full of fascinating artifacts. There were a pair of wooden shoes, similar to clogs in appearance, that were worn by the French-Canadian farmers of old Quebec, known in the native tongue as the habitans of the land, back in the 18th century. Then I saw something that sent a chill down my spine. I gazed on a well-riveted metal cage shaped superficially like a human body, with a round receptacle for the head, an oval enclosure for the torso, and metal 'arms' and 'legs' jutting out of it. I knew at once what this was. By sheer coincidence, I had stumbled upon the very museum that I had just heard about on the radio; the one that housed that fateful cage that once held the mortal remains of that one wretched woman of yore.

It was just then that I noticed a funny, tingly feeling. It felt like a buzz of static electricity, coursing all over my body. All of a sudden, I was enveloped in a haze of purplish fog. It started out light, but gradually became so thick that my visibility began getting progressively impaired. At last, it got so bad that I could barely see my fingers in front of my very eyes. Then, the fog began to die down, and I was able to see my surroundings once more. Only, when I gazed around me, I at once pinched myself, because I was sure that I must be dreaming or hallucinating. The museum was gone. Completely, entirely, utterly gone. I was now in some kind of strange village, surrounded by people clad in old-fashioned attire. Apparel that had gone out of style, not years, nor decades, but centuries ago. I pinched myself once more. Nothing happened. Realizing that my situation was actually very real, adrenaline surged through my blood. I quickly walked around, checking out my newfound environment. A man dressed in a hat and buckled shoes was selling a gaggle of turkeys at the market.

"Twelve shillings a head!" he called out at the top of his lungs. No one took heed.

While walking along, in the dense crowd, I found that I had bumped into something -- hard -- and the breath was knocked out of me. I shook my head, took a step back, and looked at what, or who, I had bumped into. To my surprise, I saw that it was a girl. She was about a head shorter than I was, had piercing dark brown eyes, and auburn hair. She seemed to be in her early twenties or so in age. My first thought was that she was extremely pretty and cute.

Putting her hand on her forehead and rubbing it, she immediately began pelting me with an endless barrage of apologies.

"Oh, I am so terribly sorry, my dear sir! I implore you, to accept my sincerest apologies! 'Twas not my intention, my good lord!" she muttered in a wailing tone.

"No, no, it's perfectly fine, madame," came my reply. "What's your name?" I asked her.

"I am Isabelle Sylvain, alias, Elizabeth Marguerite Veau," she responded. "Are you sure you have accepted my apologies, sir? Can I compensate your most grievous injury in any other fashion?"

"No, no, trust me, I'm fine," I responded. "Say, you look lonely. You think you could take me over to your place, and we could enjoy a cup of tea together?" I asked, wanting to change the subject.

She was taken aback. "Why, um…" Her eyelashes fluttered. "Why, yes, sir, that would be a fabulous notion! Let us be on our way now! I promise you, my lord, I will serve you up a cup of tea that will melt away your aches in no time at all! You will see!"

We walked down the rest of the winding dirt road, until we made it to a rude brick dwelling, with a low roof. She entered first, and I followed. It was only then that I gazed down at her feet, and saw that she was wearing a pair of wooden shoes, somewhat of a cross between clogs and slippers, seemingly sockless, judging by the exposed part of each foot that jutted out of the back of each shoe. My eyes widened. They looked exactly like the pair of shoes I had seen in the museum. A crazy thought came to my head, but I tried to push it away as hard as I could.

I was pulled out of my stunned, dazed reverie by the sight of Isabelle plopping herself down on a cushioned rocking chair. "Aaahhh!" she exlaimed with a sigh as she sat down, visibly relieved. Soon after sitting down, she crossed her ankles. I was transfixed on the elegance of her figure when she was in repose. I sat down on a chair opposite hers, and we made small talk as I kept my eyes focused on my very generous host's lower extremities. It was then that a slight movement in that general region caught my attention. I could see that the foot that was crossed on top of the other was popping its heel, ever so slightly, out of its shoe. Isabelle kept flapping her shoe back and forth on her foot. Then something mouth-wateringly unexpected happened.

I had to keep my mouth from visibly dropping open, agape, as Isabelle's sockless foot slowly emerged from her shoe. Eventually, with an audible *clunck*, the shoe dropped to the floor, and Isabelle's entire bare foot, now free of it, was free to wiggle around in the air. Then, this turn of events was shortly followed by Isabelle sliding the shoe back on, uncrossing her ankles, and then proceeding to stomp her feet up and down on the floor like crazy, before slipping both of her shoes off entirely, and pressing on the backs of them with her toes, causing them to be lifted up into the air. She continued playing this game for some time, pressing on the backs of the shoes with her toes and the balls of her feet, causing them to rise up and down, up and down, repeatedly, incessantly.

I was close enough to be able to see the visible sweat marks on her shoes, where the heels had been. It was clear that, in the July heat, her feet had become quite hot inside her wooden shoes, shoes that were apparently designed more for winter than for summer climes, and she had sweat quite vigorously while walking outdoors in the market. As she had been walking on a dirt road, and her shoes were quite open and easily admitted foreign debris, the dust had additionally gotten inside her shoes, and, with the aid of the sweat, which trapped the dust to the skin of the girl's feet like glue, was now visible between her toes, and on her arches. A curious odor wafted through the air. It was a beautiful one to my nostrils. I recognized it, at once, as the smell of Isabelle's feet. Apparently, the sweat and dust accumulated from walking on the dirt roads in the summer had taken their toll, and now that the girl was sliding her feet out of her shoes, the scent of her cooped-up dogs was now escaping.

(To be continued)…
Last edited by OceanWaves3947 on Thu Jan 11, 2018 7:56 pm, edited 2 times in total.

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Post by OceanWaves3947 » Sun Dec 31, 2017 8:00 pm


Then, Isabelle slid her shoes back on, and crossed her ankles once more, only the other way around this time, and, once again, she repeated the process of heelpopping gradually until her shoe fell entirely off, flapping her exposed toes back and forth in the air. Then, she slid her shoe back on, uncrossed her ankles, and stood up.

"I'm going to make my tea now," she announced as she got up and headed into the kitchen. I was still reeling from her recently-ended superb shoeplay performance to even consider what she had just said. Damn…, I thought to myself, this girl is really something. I had no idea there were such fantastic shoeplayers as far back as the seventeen-hundreds…

My own thought caught me off-guard. My subconscious had been concealing my burgeoning awareness of where, or, more aptly, when, I was, but my infatuation with Isabelle's amazing shoeplay show had caused the fetters to be cut down, and the thoughts of the deepest inner recesses of my mind to float back to the top like logs frolicking in the current of a raging ravine. It was only then that I truly, consciously thought about the predicament that I was now facing. As aforementioned, I had known about it unconsciously already, but now the idea, with all of its ramifications, truly dawned on me.

I was in the 1700s.

No matter how many times I repeated it in my head, it would not seem any less surreal. Somehow, I had found myself transported back to a period which I did not understand, in which the inhabitants spoke in a strange accent and used quaint words that struck my ears as being overly formal. Isabelle had been wearing a dress and a bonnet, with the dress being just short enough that it exposed her feet beneath it (luckily for me, as, had it been longer, her feet would have been concealed underneath her armchair, and I would not have been able to observe her fantastic shoeplay). I wondered how she would react to the notion of women wearing trousers, like men…She'd probably laugh it off and call it the daftest idea she's ever heard, I thought to myself.

It was then that she came back into the sitting room from the kitchen and handed me a cup of tea, having made one for herself, as well. She sat back down. I waited for the longest time, but she did not play with her shoes. I was disappointed, but decided that she still had potential, so resolved to await her some more. Meanwhile, she started a lively conversation with me.

"Say, want to come with me to my uncle's house this evening?" she asked.

I stammered. "Why…ummm…sure…sure!" I replied. "What a great idea!"

We spent some more hours making small talk, before she informed me that it was now time to get going. "My uncle's residence is not terribly far from here," she said as the two of us walked, side-by-side, out of the house and down the same dirt road, through a forested region, until we came to another house. This one looked larger and more opulent than Isabelle's had been. I followed her inside. Once we came in, I spied an old man standing by the hearth, with white hair.

"Greetings, Uncle Joseph!" said Isabelle. "As you can see, I have a guest with me today. Let us make him feel at home."

"Why, welcome, young lad," said the old man, extending his hand forward for me to shake it. "My name is Joseph Corriveau." I reciprocated the pleasant handshake.

Just then, I spied, out of the corner of my eye, a young woman entering the room. She had hazel eyes and light brown hair.

"And this is my daughter, Marie," said Joseph, pointing to the girl.

"Hi!" I said to Marie. "Nice to meet you!"

"Nice to meet you, fine lad," Marie replied, smiling as she shook my hand. Looking down, I saw that she had on the same dress and wooden shoes that Isabelle had been wearing. It was then that Joseph announced that he was treating us to dinner, courtesy of Marie, who was going to be tasked with doing the cooking. Deciding that it would be nice to get to know this good-looking girl better, I resolved to watch her as she prepared the food in the kitchen, and perhaps chat her up whilst doing so, as I had done with Isabelle.

I followed the young lady into the kitchen, and looked on as she put on an apron, tied it around her torso from the back, and set to work. We began chatting about various matters of common interest, when I espied a curious sight. She took one foot and turned it upside down, so that her entire foot was in the air except for her toes, which were tapping the wooden floor. Then, the unthinkable happened. I looked on in awe and astonishment as her foot slipped out of her shoe, exposing her bare sole for me. Then, she proceeded to clutch the shoe with her toes, and spin it around in circles on the wood floor. My jaw involuntarily dropped open as I beheld what she did next. She raised up her foot and perched it onto the calf of her opposite leg, underneath her dress. Sadly, the foot was hidden from my view thanks to said dress, but still, the sight of this vintage beauty dipping was strikingly breathtaking to my eyes. Once again, I saw that the sole of Marie's now-empty shoe was quite sweaty, and dusty, albeit not as sweaty or as dusty as Isabelle's had been.

Marie took her foot down and writhingly slid it back into her shoe. I shook my head, unable to contain my rising levels of enthusiasm.

I sighed in contentment as I thought to myself, Damn, the 1700s sure were great, weren't they?

(To be continued)…

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Post by nyllover » Mon Jan 01, 2018 7:26 pm

Thanks for the fantastic contribution. Moved the thread for you, don't know why the "post new thread" didn't work :)
Click here to see the best footfetish network.

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Post by titititit » Mon Jan 01, 2018 7:51 pm

I'd love to read more. :ooook:

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Post by OceanWaves3947 » Tue Jan 02, 2018 8:42 pm


Then, just as I thought it would all be over, Marie took her foot out of her other shoe, spun it around with her toes in circles, and propped her bare foot onto her opposite calf, once again. Her other shoe was just as sweaty and dusty as the one she had first dipped out of. She then took her foot down and slid it back into her shoe once more. I was stunned into stillness. At last, after shaking the pot on the fire for a final time, Marie turned around and, with a wide grin on her face, informed me that the food was now ready.

I followed her into the dining room, where we all sat at an oval table surrounded by reticulated wooden chairs. I decided to sit down next to her, while her father sat opposite her, and Isabelle sat next to me on the other side. I knew that dinner would be a fantastic opportunity to catch some more adorable shoeplay action from both of these gorgeous French-Canadian babes, and I would be insane to pass it up.

"Let us all pray, to thank God for the food that He has so graciously allowed to pass into our possession," Joseph announced. After a solemn five minutes or so of prayer, we were able to dig into our food. The two young ladies on either side of me gorged themselves like hungry horses, and I knew that they must have been famished. It was then that some movement beneath the tablecloth caught my eye. Peering downwards, I could make out some movement. It looked like foot movement. It was coming, once more, from Marie.

Looking down, I saw that she had done the same thing she had done in the kitchen, only, this time, while sitting. She alternated between feet, taking each one out of its shoe and spinning the shoe around with her toes, before putting it back on. Then, when both of her shoes were back on, she shook her feet up and down like crazy, creating an audible sound on the hard floor, and then proceeded to take them both off and press down on the backs of them with her toes and the balls of her feet, causing them to rise up into the air.

Looking to the other side of me, I saw that Isabelle was also in action. This time, I saw her slide her shoes completely off and put her bare feet on top of her shoes. Then, she grasped the strap with her toes and began playing around with the shoe, turning it upside down and caressing the sole of the shoe with her toes, turning it onto its side and moving it around with her foot, etc. She played with both of her shoes like this with both feet, simultaneously.

At last, the two girls put their shoes back on, once they had finished enjoying their delicious meal, and got up. As Joseph cleaned up the table, I got up and followed the two babes. The pair of beauteous luminaries of 18th century Quebec.

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Post by OceanWaves3947 » Thu Jan 11, 2018 7:33 am


After dinner, I was wondering what we would do next, when Marie, all of a sudden, stopped walking and turned around to face me. I wondered what it was that had impelled her to take this unexpected, seemingly unnatural course of action, when my inner thoughts were broken by the words that escaped from her quivering lips.

"My lad, if it be not an inconvenience for you, may you join me in my room?" she asked.

My heart immeeiately started fluttering in my chest. Immediately, I responded, "Yes! I'll be right on my way!"

"Wondrous!" came her enthusiastic reply through the smile on her face.

Walking side-by-side, the two of us came into a small, cramped bedroom that was, nevertheless, well-furnished with the accoutrements needed for comfort. A mounted moose head stuck out of the wall, projecting over the bed. Marie sat down on the edge of the bed, whilst I stood in the doorway. As soon as she had caught sight of me standing there, she gesticulated with her fingers, beckoning me to come in and join her. I did so, and, as I made my way into the room, my eyes feasted their sights on the image of the young beauteous dame lifting each foot up, propping it onto her opposite knee, and taking off her shoe, until she was completely barefoot.

I couldn't help it at this stage. I already had the world's strongest boner raging in my pants upon seeing her feet completely exposed to my view.

"Why, what are you waiting for? Come join me!" she enjoined me cheerfully. I reflected on how the events had been occurring so very much in my favor, as if to satisfy a script of my innermost fantasies that I myself had penned, since the beginning of that day, as I sauntered on over to the bed and planted my ass firmly down on it, next to the shining, now-barefoot damsel that reposed next to me. Immediately, I felt something soft and surprisingly warm contacting my lower torso. Peering down, I could see that it was Marie's feet. Upon making this realization, my boner began to undulate and writhe in my crotch. I couldn't help it. Without any touching or physical stimulation whatsoever, the mental thrill of seeing and, now, touching with my torso, this beauty's feet had already put me on the fast-track to orgasm and ejaculation.

It was then that something, at last, pulled me out of my hypnotized stupor. I knew instantly what it was, but it was so unbelievable that I had to take a moment to remind myself that it was, indeed, actually happening. Marie was now rubbing her feet all over my lower torso, beneath both my shirt and undershirt. I could feel the skin of her bare soles contacting the bare skin of my torso, and it made my boner squirm and wiggle with unparalleled intensity.

It was then that she began to raise her feet. Higher and higher they went, from the lower torso to the upper torso, and thence, to the neck. At each stage, I wondered if I was not already going to give in and shoot my load, but I resolved to hold on for at least a little while longer, as I convinced myself that the best was still yet to come.

At last, it arrived. The coup de grace. Marie raised her feet to my face, and began slithering them around on my lips, nose, cheeks, forehead, you name it. As she placed her toes squarely on my nose, my nostrils inhaled a whiff of the odorous stench that wafted out from between them. Oh, it was heavenly. An indescribable aroma. A mixture of corn chips, old cheese, and the sweatiness of a latter-day high school gymnasium locker room. Except that it was all coming from the feet, feet that had long been encased in stuffy wooden shoes sans socks, of a young, gorgeous woman from the mid-18th century in Canada.

That was it. That was the last piece of titillation that I could take before the psychological barriers that I had been erecting during the entire duration of the fantastic seduction crumbled, letting out what was destined to eventually be released, anyways. The divine smell between those toes as they gripped and played with my nose at last took me to my breaking point, and I could feel the final spasm, the last hurrah, of my beleaguered cock give way, at last, to a stream of warm, thick cum, that came oozing out of my dick and filling my underwear with a stickiness that would have put that of the stickiest glue to shame. I even think some of it oozed into my pants, as well.

By this time, my seductress, seeing the obvious look of overwhelmed relief on my face that now so clearly marked my countenance, withdrew her feet. We each exchanged a sheepish smile, before I got off of the bed, and walked outside the front door, to go to the outhouse to clean up. As I got up, Marie did not show or feign any surprise or shock whatever by my departure. I think she knew just as well as I did what had just happened between us, and knew very well where I was now headed, and what I needed to do there.

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Re: A Supernatural Canadian Shoeplay Adventure

Post by OceanWaves3947 » Thu Jun 21, 2018 6:01 am


As I walked back into the dining room, I saw that Isabelle was still in there. Now, she was leaning on a windowsill and staring out a window while standing next to it. She gazed out at the lush scenery of spring. As she stood there, I glanced down at her feet, still clad in the wooden shoes. I watched as she eased one foot out of its shoe, and raised it up to plant her bare sole onto her opposite shin. Then she lowered it down and perched it onto the top of her other foot, which still had the shoe on, before slipping it back on. Next, she took her other foot out of its shoe, likewise, and did the same. She kept doing this repeatedly, alternating between both feet, dipping a foot out of its wooden shoe and spinning the shoe around with her toes, planting her bare foot on top of her taken-off shoe, and doing all kinds of things with it, before slipping it back on. Often, her naked foot would be hidden beneath her dress. Then she turned around and saw me. When she saw me, she smiled at me and gave me a little wave, before walking past me into the hallway.

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