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For as long as I know I have a thing with kleppers. It started as a fascination for backless shoes in general, including slippers, flip-flops, and clogs. My earliest recalls date from when I was about 5-6 years old. I remember that I was jealous about school mates who were allowed by their parents to wear flip-flops during summertime, whereas I had to wear 'healthy', completely closed shoes with socks.
By the time I was about 12 years old, I realized that this fascination more specifically concerned kleppers: backless footwear with stiff soles and minimal attachment to the feet. Moreover, I got sexually turned on by seeing and hearing girls wearing kleppers. Even the sound of the word 'kleppers' can sometimes make me blush.
Gradually, I found out which aspects of kleppers and wearing kleppers turned me on the most. I can become quite extatic when I see (and hear!) a woman slowly and carefully shuffling with bare feet in flat exercise sandals with platform soles and losely fitting straps placed as far forward as possible, leaving her toes only partly visible.
I have long been asking myself what the essence of this fetish is and I now believe that the keyword here is vulnerability. In kleppers, like the ones I just described, it is impossible to run or even walk briskly, or on unequal pavement, without risking to fall, loose a klepper or sprain an ankle; neither can you walk backwards or downstairs without producing a lot of noise. To see a woman who, aware of these restrictions, is visibly and audibly taking pains in keeping the kleppers on her feet is one of the sexiest things I can think of.
Even more exciting for me than seeing women in kleppers is to wear them myself. Unfortunately, kleppers in male sizes are very hard to get. They have never really been in fashion for men, especially not with platform soles, and they probably never will be. Therefore, I decided to make them myself. Not restricted by any conventions, I could make them as high and extravagant as I wanted, which I did. Presently, I have several pairs of kleppers made of wood and/or cork with platforms ranging from 3 to 6 inches. Pictures of these kleppers are in The Kleppers Show. I can not even begin to describe the excitement that I experience when I wear these kleppers and notice the gazes of women who see me walk in them.
Although I could think of a few metaphoric parallels between sex and wearing kleppers (e.g. in the stiffness and rhythmic motions of the soles), I do not have a clue about the origin of this fetish. I have been asking myself this for a long time but lately I have decided to stop bothering. I have completely accepted this fetish as being a part of me and I just keep on to enjoy the excitement of seeing, hearing and wearing kleppers.
A few years ago on a nice summer day I had gone to town to do some shopping. I was strolling down a street, trying to remember the things I had to buy, when I saw this girl on the other side of the street. She was standing still with her back turned to the shop behind her, her arms crossed, and her legs close together. Her hair and makeup were in punk style, with dark eye shadow and black lip stick. She wore a short shabby velvet-like sweater that left her nicely pierced belly button naked, and a tight worn-down legging that covered her lower legs only partially. On her bare feet with black polished toe nails she wore the highest and sexiest platform slides I have ever seen. They had a single silver-colored strap and a 4 to 5 inch thick cork sole; the chunky heels must have been about 8 to 10 inches.
Totally surprised by her enchanting appearance I felt like I was struck by lightning. Apparently she stood there waiting for someone. With a pounding heart and with my eyes fixed on her, I waited for the things to come. Out of the shop behind her came another girl, apparently a friend of hers. The other girl was wearing an army jacket, jeans, and heavy black boots. After a short discussion they started walking down the streets. While the girl in boots just strolled off, the girl in the slides very slowly came into motion, taking small, shuffling steps. With each careful step her feet deviated from the platform soles and slapped back, while the chunky heels were clumping on the pavement. Constantly curving her toes, she was visibly taking pains in keeping the losely fitting slides on her feet. In this way, insecurely wiggling and balancing on her astronomously high slides, she carefully shuffled down the streets, taking her vulnerability for granted and trying to ignore her restricted mobility and the gazes of other people.
Every now and then the girl in boots paused and waited for her friend to catch up with her. At one time however, she shouted in Dutch that she had to hurry up. The girl in slides shouted back that she couldn't walk that fast in her slides, which was all to obvious for anyone seeing her. What made me almost explode with excitement was the word she used for 'slides', which she named klepperdekleppers.
I forgot all about the shoppings I had to do and I descretely followed her for more than an hour but I didn't have the guts to tell her what a great slides she was wearing and what a magnificent job she was doing with walking in them.
One spring afternoon, a friend and I were enjoying beer on a deck near the university. Pam, my friend, and I are both foot fetishers. She loves clogs and platforms most of all. Occasionally, she will wear thongs if they have thick soles. I love all thick wooden soled shoes. Thick rubber soled too. As we sat there, two young women came up on the deck. One of them, a kinda towney looking girl, was wearing a pair of japanese geta sandals. The other, Birkenstocks. The girl in the getas had a short hair cut, black hair, pale skin. Pam found her very sexy. The getas were too much!! Pam quickly sketched on a napkin a pair of geta sandals. Let's make these, she said! The pair in her drawing had really thick soles and wide cross straps, unlike thong getas.
We went to my house and quickly fashioned the shoes in work shop, using a bandsaw and belt grinder. Pam then took the shoes home to sand and paint. I didn't see Pam for almost two weeks. Then she called one evening to inform me that the getas were ready. I invited her over to show them off. While I waited for Pam to arrive, I smoked a big bowl of pot. Viewing shoes while stoned is one of my favorite activities. Pam arrived in a magnifisent pair of yellow getas! The heavey wooden soles were yellow like a pencil. The thick and wide leather strap was black. Pam's feet were in purple sox. I loved them! I told Pam that I was gonna make a pair for me and for her to paint them. She agreed to.
Now I'm getting ready to make me a pair of "clonkers", as Pam calls them. I want them painted turqois with red and yellow spackling and dripping on them.
It was late spring and particularly hot and I was rushing for the tube on the London Underground. The furthest thing from my mind was exercise sandals, but having said that I am highly tuned to the sound of "kleppers". The noise emanating from the tunnel behind me was like nothing I had heard before - loud slapping noises followed by what I can only describe as small explosions. I paused looked behind me and in the distance spotted a tall coloured girl dressed in tight fitting shorts struggling with a large suitcase. On her feet were a brand new pair of red berkemann original 100 flat exercise sandals.
She was making her way gingerly down a short flight of stairs dragging the heavy suitcase behind her, the wooden platforms of her sandals exploding on the concrete steps with each careful step. The noise was so loud it echoed in the tunnel, I could see people were staring at her feet, she seemed totally oblivious to it all. By this time I was so turned-on, I was embarrassed it was beginning to show - if you get my drift.
I positioned myself behind her, the slapping was louder than anything I have heard before was, she must have been wearing German size 41 or 42. Her legs were long and lean and her backside firm and perfectly round. She had light toffee coloured skin with a beautiful face and short dark hair. But what was particularly remarkable and still sticks in my mind to this day was the unique tattoo design on her feet. I do not remember the exact pattern but it was somehow elegant and very stylish (please note I do not particularly like tattoos, nor do I have a fetish about them on ladies feet either).
Being a fairly confident and forward fellow I seized the moment and offered to help her with her suitcase, at that point I did not care where she was going, I was determined to get a good look at those sandals and feet. To cut a long story short I accompanied her on the tube and sat opposite her, she crossed her legs and dangled those planks like you can't believe. She kept crossing and uncrossing her legs, the sandals swaying and dangling from her feet as she did so, she would also stretch her legs and flip the sandals noisely against the soles of her feet. I engaged her in conversation making light small talk, I only mentioned her sandals once saying how comfortable they looked and asked her where she bought them. She told me she bought them from a Dr Scholl shop in Germany about a week ago and she was still breaking them in and getting used to them.
Unfortunately for both of us the right moment did not emerge to further discuss the sandals. However, she could see I was staring at her feet and played along delightfully, dangling, slapping and flipping the sandals with gay abandon as we talked. She even let one of her sandals fall to the floor and asked me if I wouldn't mind picking it up and passing it to her. I
picked it up, examined it, and gave it back to her with no comment, the smell and feel of the sandal in my hand was incredibly sexy and erotic. (As an aside I enjoy being spanked with an exercise sandal and must admit I have fantasized many times since, about those long arms whacking may naked bum black and blue with that size 42 berkemann.) I never saw her again after that one encounter, but it was so memorable it is
unlikely it will ever dim in my imagination. By the way the amazing pictures posted in the gallery by Sigi, Ron and Thomas inspired this story. Whenever, I see such sexy sandals adorning such pretty feet I feel obligated to contribute and share my experiences. Anyone male or female who would like to contact me would be most welcome, my e-mail
address is soleslap@hotmail.com
Encouraged by the previous story from John, this is another story about "kleppers" in a memorable encounter.
It was the summer of 1980 and I was 16 years old at that time. My parents, brother, sister and I travelled to Austria to spend the holiday in a village in the Alps, not far from Innsbruck. At that time kleppers were not in vogue anymore in the Netherlands as they were in the 70's, so I was not thinking of them very often. But that was about to change.
After arrival in Austria, I noticed that exercise sandals were still common there. The weather was hot and I was surprised to see Berkemanns, Scholls and other brands on many girls and ladies feet. And not only on female feet, I saw also some boys and men wearing them, although not so frequent. These (female) sightings were fascinating and aroused my "secret wish" to wear kleppers myself. In our Alp village there was a shoe shop with kleppers in the shop-window. I looked at those many times, but I did not dare to buy me a pair. Being aware of the link between this very strange passion and sexuality, I was anxious about what my family would think about me!
During the second week of the holiday I had no desire in another mountain hike, so I decided to take the train to Innsbruck on my one for one day, to check out some record shops. And then, not far from the central station, I suddenly saw her. She was about 35 years old and good looking. She carried two plastic bags, heavily overloaded with shopping goods. But what really struck me were her white exercise sandals, flat dr.Scholls, which she wore barefoot. I was immediately impressed by the self-confident way she was walking in those sandals. My eyes were fixed on her feet when she passed by. But then, the inevitable happened. One of the plastic bags suddenly burst. The complete contents, apples, oranges and groceries tumbled down on the street. I would have helped anyone in such a circumstance, but this was more than an opportunity!
I approached her quickly and offered to help her picking up the fruit, which she accepted with a smile. I took my chance to admire her cute feet in kleppers close up. Suddenly I remembered that I had a spare plastic bag in my backpack, which I gave her to put the fruit in. Because this was a smaller size she was not able to store everything. Having both hands full, she asked me if I was willing to carry the remaining fruit to her car, which was parked in a two minutes distance. Sure I was! I accompanied her to her car, my hands full of oranges, having some "small talk", and enjoying the sight of her dr. Scholls.
As we reached her car she opened the driver's door, put away her bags on the back seat and got in. She opened the passenger's door and asked me to drop the fruit also on the back seat. She was already behind the wheel and started to put her kleppers on the pedals. Now my heart was pounding from excitement! I tried to put away the oranges as slowly as possible, trying not to miss any detail: her left sandal pressing the clutch, with her bare heel loose from the wooden sole, her right klepper treading the gas pedal as she started the car.
I would have loved to join her on her trip home, watching her feet operating the pedals. But it was time to say goodbye......... Since that moment, I have been fascinated to see pretty women working the pedals in exercise sandals. I tried
to imagine how it would feel to drive a car myself in exercise sandals. But at 16, I did not have a car, no driving license and no kleppers. I still had to wait for five years at that time.
Saturday morning I went to a local thrift shop to look for some items for a "found Object" sculpture I am working on. After all, I am a sculptor. The store had several students roaming through it. They were all looking for kitsch brik-a-brak to put in their funky apartments. I overheard two women joking about the used shoe section. I was intrigued and wandered over. One of them had put this pair of white vinyl and wood clogs on her hands and was pretending to put on a puppet show. The other girl was bent double with laughter.
Eventually, fortunately for me, they put the clogs down and went on with their browsing. I headed straight for the clogs!! I was still pretty stoned from the joint my wife and I shared before getting out of bed (a weekend ritual at our house). I felt like I was free to act as I wanted. I picked up the clogs and began inspecting them. The vinyl uppers were still shiny and uncracked. The black stained wooden soles were hardly worn. I held the clogs, one in each hand, for a few moments. Another woman passed by as she browsed the brik-a-brak shelf behind me. She paused and pretended to be interested in an old pirate ship made out of popsickle sticks. But in reality I knew she was stealing glances at me with the clogs.
I carried the clogs around the store with me for a little while. I waited until the two women that had been playing with the clogs went up to the check out counter, I got in line behind them. They were buying some lime green curtains. The one that had been using them as puppets noticed me first. She commented on what cool shoes they were. I responded by putting them on my ears and made a joke about clogs keeping my ears warm. They both giggled. On the way out of the store they asked what I was gonna do with the clogs. It was then that it came to me, in a flash, so to speak, what I was gonna do with them. I shall adorn these Sabots!! I am going to glue a one inch rubber pad to the soles and heels, glue white fake fur to the soles, place a smouth velvet slide over the wood insoles, and present them to my wife. To this they both responde, in unison, "Cool!". And I went home and did just that. My wife loves them!!! She calls them the best sex play shoes she's ever had!
J. was probably in her mid teens back then, rather thin with long straight blonde hair that seemed to be perpetually in her eyes (vulnerability?). They lived out of town and once in a while they would come visiting. One day in early summer they arrived at our house and when J. walked in it was electrifying to put it mildly.
She was wearing a white T-shirt and pink shorts. On her bare feet were rigid-soled sandals, flat with soles about three-quarters of an inch thick. Two or three narrow white straps went over her toes and about halfway back a narrow backstrap with a tiny buckle on it was attached to the sole. When she first walked in my eyes were riveted to her sandals. The backstraps were low, just barely on her heels and as she walked through our living room the straps slipped the last little bit and she immediately changed her gait to an awkward, shuffling one to keep her flapping sandals on her feet. The backstraps, now lying loose under her heels, flailed around as she walked.
Us kids were expected to vacate the room and it was decided to walk up to the store, a little more than a block away. I took up a position just behind J. There was a fresh breeze blowing and J. was tossing her head about trying to see through her hair. She walked with that halting, shuffling gait, frequently breaking step to shove a foot back into a sandal that was threatening to come off. At one point she stopped and said "Hang on. I gotta do my shoes up." She hunched forward and used the "two hand method" to slide her fallen straps back up over her heels.
As we continued on, J.'s straps were getting lower and lower on her bare heels with every step until, about two dozen steps later, her sandals began flapping again as her straps went loose under her heels. At this point I had an almost painful erection. In the store she did her straps up again. And again on the way home. In between she just sort of dragged the sandals along with her, trying to keep a precarious grip on the narrow toe straps. A couple of times she actually lost one, stopping to slip back into it.
The few times I saw her that summer she was always wearing those sandals. She never complained about them. To this day, whenever I see a woman with fallen sandal straps I think about J. and her white sandals.
While on holiday in Ubud, Bali, my wife (who is Asian with size 2 and a half feet) found a wonderful shoe shop selling all manner of beautifully designed mule clogs. We bought three pairs, the best of which were black, with a narrow strap covering the area between her first toe joints and extending no more than a centimetre above the start of her toes. The wedge heel was carved so that there was a void under the heel into which a sphere of wood was inserted. We were both equally excited by this "find" and couldn' wait to go out that evening to assess the effect of the new shoes on me.
As it turned out, we bought tickets to see the magical dancing at the Royal Palace in Ubud. My wife wore a silk sarong and white cotton tee shirt which displayed her neat breasts and contrasted with her deep olive skin. But the stars of her personal "show" that night were the amazing clogs. As we walked up the uneven pavements in the velvety air of that island, the clogs made a soft clicking sound on the slabs. She had to throw her shoulders back and lift her feet carefully to keep the shoes on, she commented that they would be easy to lose and this compounded her vulnerability that evening.
As we filed into the Palace courtyard, we squeezed along a row of tourists to get you our seats but my wife's superlative grace ensured the shoes stayed on. Of course her problems with the clogs really began when she sat down and crossed her legs. Knowing that she was driving me crazy with desire, she crossed the left leg over the right. At first the clog hung securely, the sole only an inch away from the sole of the foot. But as she began to become engrossed in the performance, the strap began its gradual descent to the front of her tiny toes as she relaxed her foot. Time and again throughout that mesmeric dance performance, the clog threatened to drop off the end of her toes but she was always able to snap it back with a sharp upward movement of her pretty foot. Needless to say, I didn't see much dancing that night. But my wife's foot strip tease had been calculated to drive me to the point of insanity as she knew what this would mean later on in our room. However, I was to have the final satisfaction of seeing her lose both items of her precarious footwear.
After a meal in a restaurant, we decided to take motorcycle taxis back to the hotel. Indonesian m/c taxi drivers are not known for their road safety so I agreed to ride behind her with my fellow. She rode side saddle as is the usual Asian female practice with her legs slightly uplifted to avoid contact with the ground. Pointing her toes skyward to keep hold of the clogs, she shot off down the street at breakneck Indonesian pace. The first clog fell after about 100 yards, the second followed seconds after. Later she told me that she had abandoned her control over the shoes at the point when the motorcycle lurched sideways and keeping her balance took priority over clenching her toes! Of course we retrieved the beautiful clogs and she has worn them many times since. Now they have become looser with wear, she is no longer quite so secure in them and leaves them behind frequently. Needless to say, I love this! I feel very lucky to have a partner who both understands and enjoys my fetish.
I bought my first pair with our local shoeman in our village at the age of 16, about 36 years ago. I possess courage in severe matters! First there was some confusion about the coloring of the straps, as I remember clearly, because my size was only available in red, and this was feminine according to the man; as if white was musculare, but as I recall from the expression on the mans face, he had grave doubts about that either. Kleppers where feminie, period!. So I bought the red-straped ones, paid the money and hurried out. I walked happily around in (or should the dutch expression, 'on' them be more appropriate?) them, ignoring the stares and occasionally being called 'girl'. (What's wrong with being a woman in the first place? Alright, I'm male, but then, what's wrong about that either? Fortunatily I'm not a macho).
A couple of years later I bought my third pair out of the basket from the general store; This was the high-days of kleppers, even readily available in size 42. This pair I kept in some delicate combination of 'good care' and carefullness. Build from just some wood, with iron-strong yellow straps, I walk on them now for more than thirty years. They are real kleppers in any sense, being low and wide. You don't walk on or in them; they are just happen to be under the soles of your feet, more or less, most of the time. And if one decides to go his own way, so you lose him, you casually retrieve 'm with the point of your big-toe. One of the reasons I was indeed very happy with your web-site, was that in the links was 'Fusaro'. I got myself a nice pair of 'Berkeman's' with the red strap from Ingeborg. God bless the internet and women like Ingeborg!
And then it gives "Lanaform"! Never are shoes so wrongly designed! Whatever you tell me, the designer of these 'kleppers' didn't make any mistake in making the most erroneous kleppers possible; Everything is wrong! The front-end is huge, it is what it looks like, a big log of wood, while the tail-end is what it looks the same, 'skimpy'. You look like an idiot in them, your feet pointing the wrong angle. So, as a matter of consequence , the point of gravity is very foreward, around where the staps are. The wood, beech, is an honarable species of its brand; but not for footwear, its heavy, far to heavy. So Lanaform's weight a ton! (talking exercise?). The coloring of the straps: Up till now there is no name for this color. At best you may call it 'non-color'. Finnally, the nails and the buckle. Made from shiny 'gold-colored' plasic. You certainly can't beat that one! In short; I LOVE THEM! [For dutch visitors; 'Lanaform's' are at the moment available (up to size 42 +)!!! ) at Wehkamp. They sell them as a cure for some horrible disease!]
Geta's. As I understood from browsing the web, people are home-making these japanese 'kleppers'. That's correct, I did so a couple of years ago (before the internet-era). Walking on them indeed proved that folks don't look at your feet, unless interrested. The only reactions I got where from a child: "Hey look mama, what an unhandy thongs this man is wearing!".
Miscellaneous. Talking about 'home-made', in less than an hour, I made myself these things I called "flappers". Not in every respect to be called 'kleppers', however the sole is quite stiff, but there is some 'heel'-attachment construction. They have a real characteristic in common with kleppers: You don't walk on them, they are just following you, being, most of the time, between the soles of your feet and the earth. Do or don't believe it, you can WALK on them, at least if you are willing to ignore their erratic behaviour. Particular characteristic: they tend to start flapping in even the slightest winds. Things to be aware of: not so much the funny feeling this 'flapping' is transponding to the soles of your feet, but more the stares you get from the other people. Maybe it helps not to wear them in combination with terribly blue shiny leggings if you are a middle aged male!
Male, female and footwear. For some reason or another, there must be some link between gender and footwear design. Everybody in the field, designers as well as salespeople, want you to make believe that. See above!. Maybe it's only because I'm a stupid system-analist, but I fail to comprehend it. Basicly, I cannot see the relationship between the shape of one's genitals and them footwear. (Honestly, what was the last time you walked around on your balls or on your breasts or your womb?, Personally, I can't recall!). Who was this idiot who stated that only females can walk on highheels? I can! Alright, I wouldn't break the worldrecord 100 yards in them, but then, which woman can?
PS: Together with this story you should see the pics of Dick's kleppers posted on The Kleppers Show, Part VI.
Dick's e-mail
address is dgerritsen@ooms.nl
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