I will start with footfags. Number 1 - Casanova

>The frontispiece of woman runs from top to bottom like that of a book, and her feet, which are most important to every man who shares my taste, offer the same interest as the edition of the work. If it is true that most amateurs bestow little or no attention upon the feet of a woman, it is likewise a fact that most readers care little or nothing whether a book is of the first edition or the tenth.
Casanova, The Complete Memoirs of Jacques Casanova de Seingalt

>"A pretty foot is a great gift of nature," he said. "It is a grace which never perishes. I observed it today, as she was walking. I should almost have liked even to kiss her shoe, and repeat that somewhat barbarous but significant practice of the Sarmatians, who know no better way of showing reverence for any one they love or respect, than by using his shoe to drink his health out of."
Goethe, Elective Affinities

>There’s something here, my dear boy, that you don’t understand yet. A man will fall in love with some beauty, with a woman’s body, or even with a part of a woman’s body (a sensualist can understand that), and he’ll abandon his own children for her, sell his father and mother, and his country, Russia, too. If he’s honest, he’ll steal; if he’s humane, he’ll murder; if he’s faithful, he’ll deceive. Pushkin, the poet of women’s feet, sung of their feet in his verse. Others don’t sing their praises, but they can’t look at their feet without a thrill—and it’s not only their feet. Contempt’s no help here, brother, even if he did despise Grushenka. He does, but he can’t tear himself away.”
Fyodor Dostoevsky, The Brothers Karamazov

>I kiss the five tiny toes on your little foot, I kiss the little foot and the darling heel, I kiss and cannot get my fill of kissing, I am imagining this all the time.
>You come to me in my dreams every night . . . I kiss all of you, I clasp your little hands, your little feet
>The most seductive dreams. . . . I kiss you awfully, this minute. I am as if in a delirium. I am afraid of a seizure. I kiss your hands, both back and palm, and your little feet and all of you.
>I kiss your tiny toes, then your little lips, then the [expunged] again!
>I attest that I thirst to kiss over and over again every tiny toe on your little foot—and I'll attain this end, you'll see. You write: 'But what if someone reads our letters?' There's that, of course, but let them: let them feel envious.
quotes from Dostoevsky's letters to women

>Diana’s breast is charming, brothers,
>And Flora’s cheek, I quite agree
>But I prefer above these others
>The foot of sweet Terpsichore.
>It hints to probing, ardent glances
>Of rich rewards and peerless trances;
>Its token beauty stokes the fires,
>The willful swarm of hot desires.
>My dear Elvina, I adore it--
>Beneath the table barely seen,
>In springtime on the meadow’s green,
>In winter with the hearth before it,
>Upon the ballroom’s mirrored floor,
>Or perched on granite by the shore.

>I recollect the ocean rumbling:
>O who I envied then the waves--
>Those rushing tides in tumult tumbling
>To fall about her feet like slaves!
>I longed to join the waves in pressing
>Upon those feet these lips…caressing.
>No, never midst the fiercest blaze
>Of wildest youth’s most fervent days
>Was I so racked with yearning’s anguish:
>No maiden’s lips were equal bliss,
>No rosy cheek that I might kiss,
>Or sultry breast on which to languish.
>No never once did passion’s flood
>So rend my soul, so flame my blood.

>Another memory finds me ready:
>In cherished dreams I sometimes stand
>And hold the lucky stirrup steady,
>Then feel her foot within my hand!
>Once more imagination surges,
>Once more that touch ignites and urges
>The blood within this withered heart:
>Once more the love…once more the dart!
>But stop…Enough! My babbling lyre
>Has overpraised these haughty things:
>They’re hardly worth the songs one sings
>Or all the passions they inspire;
>Their charming words and glances sweet
>Are quite as faithless as their feet.
Alexander Pushkin, Eugene Onegin

>"Yes—l'ensemble, you know—head, hands, and feet—everything—especially feet. That's my foot," she said, kicking off her big slipper and stretching out the limb. "It's the handsomest foot in all Paris. There's only one in all Paris to match it, and here it is," and she laughed heartily (like a merry peal of bells), and stuck out the other.
>And in truth they were astonishingly beautiful feet, such as one only sees in pictures and statues—a true inspiration of shape and color, all made up of delicate lengths and subtly modulated curves and noble straightnesses and happy little dimpled arrangements in innocent young pink and white.
>So that Little Billee, who had the quick, prehensile, æsthetic eye, and knew by the grace of Heaven what the shapes and sizes and colors of almost every bit of man, woman, or child should be (and so seldom are), was quite bewildered to find that a real, bare, live human foot could be such a charming object to look at, and felt that such a base or pedestal lent quite an antique and Olympian dignity to a figure that seemed just then rather grotesque in its mixed attire of military overcoat and female petticoat, and nothing else!
>Poor Trilby!
>The shape of those lovely slender feet (that were neither large nor small), facsimiled in dusty, pale plaster of Paris, survives on the shelves and walls of many a studio throughout the world, and many a sculptor yet unborn has yet to marvel at their strange perfection, in studious despair.
George du Maurier, Trilby

>To a Boy: Your condition is rather delicate, and it’s because, I am sure, your sandal pinches; new leather, you know, is quite likely to cut into flesh that is tender. That is why Asclepius readily heals wounds received in war and hunting and all such accidents, but neglects these others because of the voluntariness of the action—as due to indiscretion rather than to a god’s capricious malevolence. Why then don’t you walk barefoot? What grudge have you against the earth? Slippers and sandals and top-boots and shoes are for the wearing of invalids or the aged. Philoctetes, at any rate, is pictured in such protective garb—because he was lame and ill. But the philosopher from Sinope and the Theban Crates and Ajax and Achilles are pictured as wearing no shoes, and Jason as wearing but one. For the story goes that, when Jason was crossing the Anaurus River, one boot was caught by the mud and held fast under the stream, and so he had one bare foot—not that he deliberately chose to have, but that chance taught him what was best; and he went his way the victim of a salutary robbery. Let nothing come between the earth and your bare foot. Fear not, the dust will welcome your tread as it would welcome grass, and we shall all kiss your footprints. Ο perfect lines of feet most dearly loved! Ο flowers new and strange! Ο plants sprung from earth! Ο kiss left lying on the ground!
Philostratus, Letter 18

>To a Woman: Do not ever wear shoes, or conceal your ankles with false and deceptive skins, whose beauty, which consists in their dye, is illusory. For if you wear white, you obscure the whiteness of your feet (since like in the midst of like does not show); and if you wear the colour of larkspur, you offend the eye by the darkness of the shade; and if crimson, you cause fright, as if blood were flowing somewhere in the shoe. I wish that all the rest of you were visible; and you would actually possess far more power, exposing your whole body to the spectators’ eager pursuit. Well, be a bit economical of other features, if you will, and do not begrudge them protection or such coverings as are indispensable; but leave your feet at least bare like your neck, your cheeks, your locks, like your nose and eyes. To be sure, wherever nature has erred, the damage requires clever treatment, in order that art may conceal the defect; but where beauty suffices for its own display, remedial measures are superfluous. Be self-reliant and trust to your feet! These even fire will spare, these even the sea; and if you wish to cross a river, the river will stay its course, and if you wish to scale crags, you will seem to yourself to be treading on meadows. Thus Thetis was called “silver-footed” by the poet who had exact knowledge of all of beauty’s highest forms; thus Aphroditê too, as she rises from the sea, is depicted by the painters; thus too the daughters of Leucippus. Keep your feet in readiness for those who fain would kiss them; and wear no bonds, even of gold.
Philostratus, Letter 36

>>17818850 (OP)
James Joyce was into anal and farting.
I feel that Benjamin Franklin probably was a flasher.
Stendhal liked falling in and being in love. He wrote a book about the mental gymnastics required to make yourself fall for just about anybody, which is advice he himself applied to use plenty often.

>This has made me think of Anactoria, who isn't here. Her step, which stirs desire...
Sappho, fragment 16

>[…sing of] the bride whose feet are graceful
Sappho, fragment 57

>>17818871
Joyce's letters are classic. Didn't know that about Franklin, thank you. Any sources? Would be funny to read. I wonder if Stendhal was what in modern parlance we would call a limerent.

>But this passion for the beauty of the foot - so powerful that it has never failed to rouse desire in me, and could render me oblivious even to ugliness - does it spring from the body or the mind? In all those who have it, it is there to excess; on what is it founded? Is it related to a light ease in walking? To the sensuous grace of the dance? A factitious passion for shoes is but a reflection of that for the beautiful feet which give grace even to animals; one grows accustomed to think of the envelope as the thing itself. Thus the attraction which dainty shoes have had for me from childhood is an artificial taste based on a natural one; whereas my passion for a little foot has a physical cause only, indicated in the proverb: 'Parvus pes, barathrum grande', the facility thus given being favorable to procreation.
Restif de la Bretonne, Monsieur Nicolas

>As an adult, he [Elvis] would massage the feet—and sometimes suck the toes—of women he dated.
>“He had a definite foot fetish,” Broeske says. “They had to have pretty feet. That was a requirement for a date with him.”
https://www.latimes.com/archives/la-xpm-1997-aug-05-ls-19405-story.html

>Jo Smith, who worked for the star too, was asked: “Is it true that you had to look at women’s feet for Elvis?”
>The Memphis Mafia wife replied: “A lot of times Elvis was real ticky about the way somebody’s toenails and fingernails [were] and…[their] cleanliness. And sometimes if somebody came up he’d ask me to check them out and see what I thought and be sure to look, if they had sandals on or something, and check out their toenails.”
https://www.express.co.uk/entertainment/music/1860467/Elvis-Presley-women-toenails-Memphis-Mafia

>>17818875
>I wonder if Stendhal was what in modern parlance we would call a limerent.
I mean in terms of symptoms, he was. The difference being that, to him, it's a deliberate and voluntary process he actively put himself through for a specific high.

>>17818904
That's fascinating, I will have to read his book. Thanks anon

>>17818850 (OP)
Based thread.

>>17818871
>>17818875
https://www.theparisreview.org/blog/2018/02/02/james-joyces-love-letters-dirty-little-fuckbird/
Joyce was a kinky fuck and really lets it loose in parts of Ulysses.

Elvis sounds based

>>17820325
Imagine dying and this being your legacy, letters about fucking the farts out of a womans asshole

>>17820679
His legacy is Ulysses bro. Also these fart letters are consummately written

>>17818850 (OP)

Feet is a part of the female body so just natural and not a fetish
A fetish would be more like an object/clothing/scenario outside of regular sex

Did any historical figure had a mask fetish ?
I think i have heard here that Napoleon soldiers in egypt/levant tought that the women there covering their faces and only showing their eyes was very erotic

>>17821058
I agree