At The Wedding (finger crush)

It was my cousins wedding. She was 18 years older than me (I was eight  at the time). I knew I had a fascination with women’s high heels, but I  wasn’t sure then of the extent of my interest, or why. Regardless, I  continually tried to put myself in a position to be near them. Well, it  was a wedding night and everyone was dressed to perfection. I even had a  little suit on. This was the perfect opportunity for me do what I loved  best to do. After dinner people started wandering, visiting, doing the  wedding thing. I started wandering the hall looking for potential foot  action. I found a table with three ladies, their husbands or dates were  elsewhere. I didn’t recognize them, so I got down on all fours and began  to play with a small matchbox car I brought with me. I was near their  table and eventually they ignored my presence. Casually I made my move,  driving my car under their table. The tablecloth covering it went almost  to the floor, so I knew I had solid cover. It was a gold mine, I was so  excited. The tables sat 10, so there was plenty of room for me to  maneuver. The ladies essentially sat so they took up half of the table, a  half moon if you will. I examined each of the ladies shoes. Lady one  wore standard black pumps. The heel was probably 3 inches in length and  came to a small point. I leaned closer, she had her legs crossed and her  right foot was in the air. I slowly stuck out my tongue just brushing  the tip very lightly, I could taste the leather I was in heaven. Just as  I was developing a relationship with her shoe I felt a painful jab on  my right hand. Lady two had stretched out her legs and had crossed them  with the one heel on the floor, or more appropriately on my hand. The  pain was intense, but I was more afraid of being caught. I glared at her  shoes in fear and admiration. She wore open-toe black pumps. She had a  similar heel to Lady one, but her heel was buried into the top of my  right hand. As I tried to figure a way out of my predicament, Lady one  began to gently swing her still elevated right foot. The gentle swinging  grew larger in motion, I tried to back up, but with my hand pinned by  lady two and the main table leg at my back I knew I was in trouble. Lady  one struck me. The toe of her pump hit then slid the length of my  forehead. I was expecting her to pull away and look under the table to  find me, but she didn’t. I guess my forehead felt like the table leg to  her, because her foot struck me three more times. Finally it came to a  rest with the toe planted firmly on the bridge of my nose. I could smell  the intoxicating aroma of leather and sweat. Her toe cleavage was right  before my eyes. One of the ladies told a joke or something because next  thing I know lady two is laughing and sliding her feet back in towards  her. The heel that was resting on my hand slid and tore across it.  Finally her heel was off of my hand, and lady one switched her legs,  thereby removing her foot from my face. For a moment I was in the clear.  I examined the back of my hand. It stung, and had a deep welt, but it  wasn’t bleeding. I then went over to the lady three. She was wearing  cream colored shoes, with a 2 ½ inch heel. She also had her legs crossed  and I gently licked the toe of her shoe. The leather was divine. I laid  down on my stomach, so my face was about an inch from her foot on the  ground. Suddenly she shifted and switched her legs. Although she missed  my face (barely) her planted foot landed on my tie. I was trapped. She  began swinging her crossed leg and her foot breezed by my ear.  Fortunately she didn’t hit me. I stayed stuck like that for a couple of  minutes, until I heard and saw a man approach. He asked her to dance. As  she got up to leave she brought her extended foot back down and it  landed squarely on my already sore hand. The heel landed on my ring  finger crushing it into the carpet, then as she stood up the heel with a  horrifying amount of pain slid off of my finger and onto the floor. She  didn’t notice and simply turned and left the table. This time I started  to bleed. Despite the pain I didn’t cry, I attribute that to the fact  that my adrenaline was pumping like mad. I turned and saw the other two  ladies getting up to go (to the bathroom I presumed). I waited for 15 or  20 minutes, but they didn’t return. So I left. I’ll never forget that  night. Twenty-two years later, I wish I could be as inconspicuous as an  eight year old. I'd love to hear your memories from childhood, please  share them with us.