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Danielle your stories are so well written and so good. You have a real talent for sure. I think a majority of people read it and liked it, they just rather lurk than respond. Please don't be discouraged at all, and please continue to write. I also love the pictures of your sexy long legs and really gorgeous toes and soles. You are totally amazing!
Posts: 1914 | Registered: Sep 2004
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Damn Danielle those were good stories, I am glad I made this thread because now I got to see them and read them and really truly enjoy them.
Posts: 488 | Registered: Mar 2008
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I am so happy that you enjoyed them. I love to sit down a get in my writing zone and produce something that people love. It's these type of comments that inspire me to write.
I actually have a lot more stories that I haven't shared with anyone yet. I will post them for everyone to read be sure to check out my website, its 100% free now, www.xecutivefeet.com.
Thanks for creating this thread, it seems to have sparked a lot of interest in stories. I might do a Fiction Story about Patrick....I think everyone will enjoy reading about the King Of Feet...lol
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Danielle, your website is elegant, beautiful, and a pure joy, just as you are. The pictures of your legs and feet in shear sandalfoot hose on your desk are some of my very favorite of all time. Just gorgeous. I would love to see more pictures of your legs and feet in sandalfoot hose, so you can see your gorgeous toes well! I would love to read a story from you where you dominate a woman with your feet at work! Where she must worship and smell your sexy feet! HOT!! THANKS FOR EVERYTHING! DAVE...ROYALS22262
Posts: 1914 | Registered: Sep 2004
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OK WAZ, here is the story. It's a long-ass story, too. Again, your girlfriend is "Gina" in the story. I'm working on another version from a different point of view. Hope you like!
I love these little trips. Three days out of the office, away from the house; no commitments, no deadlines, no email. Alone with my thoughts.
And the feet. All the pretty feet.
This is my Late Spring footgazing trip. I take two a year, if I can. One in late spring, and one in early August. I used to do one in the fall, but life kind of got in the way of that. I usually spend a couple of days looking at an atlas, and I pick a city to drive to. The choices are narrowed somewhat by what colleges are in those towns. Then I check the college website to see if the place is even open. I check the police blotter, too. The last place I want to be taking pictures of feet is a campus where some footperv got arrested for being, well, a footperv.
This time I decided to drive in a southeastern direction. I’d heard of this school, hell, everybody’s heard of it, but I’d never been. This is the last week of classes before finals, and it’s one of my favorite times of year to visit a college campus. The students are energized by the ending of the term, but not yet freaked out by the coming finals. My other favorite time is mid-October. For some reason, in early autumn college girls get into some weird combination of relaxed and titillated, and when you ask them if you can take pictures of their feet, they get all extra into it.
Day 1 started out the usual way. A little shagged out from the 6-hour drive, I found a place to park where I wouldn’t get towed. I stopped by the convenience store when I got into town, so I could have a few beers to sneak into my backpack while I tour this campus. It was 2:30 in the afternoon, after all. And I’m on vacation, dammit. Sometimes I pour cheap white wine into an empty Gatorade bottle and drink that while I’m foothunting. The wine buzz is OK, but the best buzz for foothunting is definitely the beer buzz. I tried vodka once; easy to carry around, but I didn’t like it.
Campus Police generally don’t take kindly to boozing up right there in front of god and everybody (with the exception of that little school in Ohio). So normally I drink my cans where there’s a little privacy. On most campuses that means a restroom. On my little vacations I like to do things I don’t do in my “normal” life. Taking pictures of feet, sneaking booze like some underage kid, solo camping at a state park. Beats Disneyland.
So I got here and parked, and as I was loading up my bag with the camera, my copious electronic mobile gadgetry and the beer, I saw across the street a brew pub. Score. Save the beer for later. I walked over to the place and quaffed four outstanding IPAs, served up by a pretty girl. She’s a student here, and she told me a bit about the place. I couldn’t see her feet, but nice bottom, definitely. I went back to campus to start walking. Day 1 is always spent on travel and recon. I liked this campus right away, because the girls were using the green spaces. Lots of little nooks with benches, too—perfect for pics. I don’t like shooting in exposed areas. I used to do that back in the day, but now discretion is more important to me.
Day 2 began with a hot shower at the campsite, which is only about 20 miles away from town. I found a great little breakfast place, and I decided to hit another campus in the area. This one was a community college. The women were a bit older than the place yesterday and better dressed. But they were in more of a hurry, and not lazing around much enjoying the spring sunshine.
My favorite girl here was the MILF in the zebra print pumps. Rounded toe. “Those have to be Enzos,” I thought. She was sitting on a bench smoking, and I asked her for a light. She was absorbed in texting, and absently handed me her lighter. I thanked her and sat down to smoke and admire her feet. I knew I wouldn’t ask her for pics, I didn’t have enough nerve worked up yet. Her arches were so high that they curved up and over the side of her shoe. I could have fit my thumb in that space, her arch was so high.
I watched the tip of that four inch heel trace out dozens of little circles as she sat legs crossed towards me, bouncing her foot. She then crossed her legs in the other direction, and popped the other shoe off her heel. For another few minutes, she flexed her toes rhythmically to bounce that shoe on her heel. Bounce bounce bounce. Text text text. Bounce bounce bounce. Text text text. Then, just like that, she swings her hand down, fits the shoe back on her foot, gets up and leaves, texting on the way. She threw her cigarette onto the sidewalk, ignoring the ashtray next to our bench. Feh. I don’t photograph women who litter. Good call.
There’s an art to footwatching without staring, and I’ve perfected it. For one thing, you don’t directly face the girl. Keep your head and eyes in motion. Look at the rest of the world, while coming back to her feet. If she looks at you, give a small polite smile and go back to the world. Don’t drool. Heh.
Day 2 ended with my discovery that this town has some amazing restaurants. Being a foodie I chose a rare ethnic find. I filled my belly and reflected on all the pretty feet I saw—and didn’t see. Like how at four in the afternoon, I had finally worked up the balls to ask a girl for pictures. That was the redhead with the amazing manicure. Her nails were painted in a light blue mirror finish, so shiny that I had spots in my eyes from when the sun caught them. Each ring fingernail had a tiny hole with a gold hoop through it. There were airbrushed flowers on her thumbnails. I complimented her nails, and she was flattered and cool with it. I then asked if her toes matched her fingers.
“I never paint my toes,” she replied. “I hate feet.” She made a face.
That explains the Doc Martens. And that is SO Day Two.
As I drifted off to sleep last night, my thoughts returned to Zebra Pumps ArchMILF. She was the metaphor for Day 2—look but don’t touch. The wind pulsed gently through the vents of my tent, and I resolved that Day Three would be the Foot Day of Foot Days. I would go back to the first campus, find thousands of pretty girls sitting at secluded benches, and they would love to have me digging on their feet.
And so far, so good. It’s 3:30, and my beer buzz from lunch at the brewpub is fading now. Before lunch I found a girl in flipflops sitting under a tree reading, of all things, “The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy.” We spent about 15 minutes chatting about what a damn genius Douglas Adams was. She didn’t know he was dead. I recommended the “Dirk Gently” books, and she even wrote that down. When it was time to wrap up the conversation, I asked her, “Hey, could I take a picture of your feet?”
“Sure, go ahead.” Then, “What’s this for?”
“It’s not for anything,” I said. “I just felt like doing it.”
“Oh, okay. Sure.”
I shot the tops of her feet. She had longish sort of toes, which were not painted. Pretty, though. I shot her soles. It was an amusing moment for her, and slightly awkward. “Cool,” I said. “Well, see you around.” She thanked me for the book recommendation, and went back to reading.
After lunch I found two girls sunbathing in the middle of a grassy area far off from pedestrian traffic. One girl was texting continuously, and the other sat up every now and then to see if anyone was noticing them. Sunbathing girls do that sometimes; they want the attention, not so much the tan. The only other type of sunbathing girls are the exact opposite, in that they HATE to be bothered, so it’s really best if you don’t. You never know which ones you’ve got in front of you.
But this girl had that “Notice me! Notice me!” thing going on, so I thought for a minute, then figured out how to approach them without looking like I was approaching them. I walked an arc that took me about 15 feet past them. When I glanced over and Watching Girl said “Hi!” to me, I knew that this was a good opportunity.
I ended up with about 20 shots of their toes, soles, arches; ankles crossed, one girl’s leg crossed over the other; et cetera. Trouble was, their feet weren’t all that great. Texting Girl never stopped texting, so more elaborate shots were out. Sometimes I ask girls to write their first names with their toes on a 3x5 card, using a marker. This is fun for the girls, but only if they are engaged. Also, I could see that Watching Girl was starting to get bored and would shut down on me. I thanked the girls and split.
So now here I am. Do I go for more beer? Do I recon some more? I sit down and look around. I see a little nook about 50 yards away, with a bench and table. I look around, and then I notice movement in the little nook, in the corner of my eye. I look back.
Hello.
Now a girl is sitting in the nook. A stunning girl, even from this far away it’s so obvious. I get up and walk by the little nook and as I pass she seems not to notice me. This girl has long hair, past her shoulders. It’s brown with blonde highlights throughout. She has dark brown eyebrows, which are slightly visible through her fashionable sunglasses. Her hands are well-formed with long fingers, and she has great skin, silken smooth. She’s wearing a sleeveless, light green top, a little black skirt and under that, black cropped leggings. On her feet are what look like brand new, black ballet flats. Her ankles are graceful with the bone structure I like so much, and she has a gold chain, maybe 5 mm, around her right ankle.
Wow. Just, wow.
With perfect luck, I find an inconspicuous spot to sit where I can see her from the side and a little behind. I’m about 20 feet away. She uses the toe of one shoe to pull the other off her heel, repeating for the other foot. She places her feet flat on the ground and gracefully, so gracefully, slides her feet out of the shoes. Her toes are bright pink, so bright that I can see they’re pink from this far away. She flexes her toes in the air, freeing them. She glances over her shoulder opposite of me, then turns back.
I feel my heart race, my breathing go shallow. I love the adrenal response I get when I see a girl that I know I have to approach. It’s like skydiving for guys who are afraid of heights (me). The surge of blood pounds in my ears, and simultaneously my hearing sharpens. I can almost hear the wind blowing through her toes. My hands clench. I have to figure out a way to engage this girl. I have to. She pulls out a pack of cigarettes and lights one. Perfect. I start to get up.
Then she pulls out her phone. Damn. Well, screw it, this time texting isn’t going to stop me. If she makes an actual call, though, I can’t engage her. I’ll wait and see what she does. I remember the days before the great ubiquity of mobile phones. It was so much easier to engage girls without the constant interruption of technology. I remember once—
What the..?
Did she—No. Impossible. Freaky impossible.
I swear I just saw this girl take a picture of her feet!
Can’t be. I must have imagined that. Sometimes you get a weird heat haze off the sidewalks. Brownian motion can make you think you see things when you really—
She’s doing it again! She’s putting her legs out straight, pointing her toes inward towards each other, and aiming her phone right at her feet! Heat haze and Brownian motion, my white ass.
Now she’s looking at her phone. Quick glance over her shoulder. Huh. If I let this opportunity slip by, I’ll die bitter and filled with infinite recrimination. Man up, here we go.
I walk over to her. “Hey, can I get a light from you?”
“Sure! Here you go.”
“Thanks.” I sit down, taking my time with the lighter. I look down at her feet. I can see the imprints that her flats left in her skin. They really are brand new, too; the logo on the insole hasn’t been rubbed off yet. But all of this is minutiae compared to her toes. These are the longest, most graceful toes I have ever seen. They are almost prehensile. They are the brightest pink of all bright pinks, with delicate white and black flowers airbrushed on each toe. Her ankle flexes, tightening and loosening the grip of the gold chain. The adrenaline is so strong in me now I’m almost shaking. Don’t screw this up.
I hand back the lighter. “You have cool toes.” Nonchalant. Good job.
“Oh, thank you,” she smiles slightly, and looks down at her feet. “I like how they came out, they’re fun. I just took a picture of them for my boyfriend.”
“Oh, that’s cool. Are you waiting for him?”
“Huh-uh, no,” she exhales smoke. “Nope, just hanging out between classes.”
“Well,” I say, taking my own drag and being nonchalant. Oh yeah, I’m nonchalant. I am Mr. Nonchalant. I am the Emperor of NonchalantLand. I am Nonchalantor. “Can I take a picture of your toes?”
This amuses her, but she is definitely composed. “Sure, go for it.” She takes a drag from her cigarette. Another fast glance over her shoulder.
I pull my camera out and compose a shot. I hate it when my hand shakes, I think it’s so obvious to other people. And the pictures come out blurry. This is compounded by the fact that she is watching me intently. Most of the time when girls are getting their feet photographed, they don’t know what to do or what to look at. I think mostly they look around to see if anyone is reacting to the situation. Other girls will simply tune you out. They’ll keep reading, or texting, or studying their hands, anything to keep their minds occupied while you are occupied with their feet.
Not this girl. She is giving me her complete attention, and she’s got a lot of it to give. And man, these are some of the most beautiful feet I’ve ever seen. This girl is a staggering statistical outlier. I stop after three shots. She is very cool with me right now, and I don’t want to blow it.
“Thanks,” I say.
“Sure,” she says casually. She is nonchalanting my nonchalantness.
“What classes are you taking?” I ask.
“Anatomy & Physiology and Calc Two,” she replies. “Oh, and a pilates class. What about you, are you a student here?”
“No, I’m just taking a break from a roadtrip. I needed to get out and walk around. And I had lunch at a great brewery.”
“Oh, I love that place! Where are you driving to?”
“Denver.”
“I went through there once, on my way to California. Ow.” She pulls her left foot up to her right knee, and grasps her arch.
“Foot hurt?” I ask casually.
“Yeah, it’s these shoes. They’re so cute, but I need more arch support. Now I’ve got a cramp.”
“I can fix that for you,” I reply. She arches her eyebrows at me. “Give me your foot,” I say.
She hesitates for a split second. Then gracefully, almost girlishly, she uses both hands to press down on the bench and scoots herself away from me a few inches. She swings her left foot up on the bench and into my waiting hands. I grasp her instep and outstep firmly, and squeeze. I can see her eyes close behind her sunglasses.
“That OK?”
“Mm. Yes.”
We sit in silence, while I squeeze her foot. I work from the middle of her foot up to the top of her arch. It is such a beautiful foot.
“Thanks,” she says softly.
Did I say that out loud?
I smile an embarrassed smile. She smiles back, then, demonstrating her control of the situation, she breaks the tension by pulling another cigarette out and lighting it up. She glances around.
Now it’s my turn to watch her. Its funny to watch girls this age smoke. Mostly there’s two types. One type acts like a high school girl, sneaking off behind her parents’ backs, almost giggling with mischief. They hold the cigarette between two fingers, in an affectation of antebellum ladylike behavior. The other type smokes clumsily, aggressively. They ash everywhere, butt clenched in teeth and then thrown to the ground with a tiresome contempt.
Not this girl. She smokes like a grown woman, like the cigarette works for her, on her payroll. She holds it gracefully, unselfconsciously. The smoke is a guest in her body, one that stays only to the extent that it pleases her. Madison Avenue has it wrong; it’s not cigarettes that make girls sexy, it’s the other way around. And only one in 10,000 girls can do it. And here she is.
“So,” she says, “Denver, huh? What’s there?”
“Mountains. I like it there. It makes me happy. Give me your other foot.”
Wordlessly, she swings her other leg up. I grasp her foot. This time, I press her toes up, stretching her foot. Her head tilts down to the right, and her eyes close. The clock tower sounds; first the clock song, then four bells. Four o’clock? Time flies.
“What’s your name?” She looks at me.
“A.J., yours?”
“Gina.”
“Hi, Gina,” I smile at her.
“Hi A.J.,” she smiles back. “That feels good.” She twists her body around awkwardly and stubs her cigarette out into the ashtray. This gives me an idea.
“Hey,” I ask, “Do you think we could go sit over in the grass there, instead of this bench?” Will she go for it? She considers this for a few seconds.
“Sure, okay.”
She swings her legs off the bench, and slides her feet into her shoes. We stand up, walk over to a grassy area under a tree. She sits down, pulls off her shoes with her hands, and stretches her legs out straight. After a quick glance back in the direction of the bench, she leans back and looks up at me. I sit down in front of her feet. I stop, because now I can see her soles. They are so smooth. I thought her toes were long from the top side, but the view now…wow.
It’s hard to believe that I’ve already touched these soles, and now I’m invited to do so again. This time I rub my hands together to warm them, and place them on top of her feet for a moment, perfectly still. I move my hands to her soles, just placing as much of my hands on them as I can. I press up, gently. She breathes in deeply, and exhales a long sigh.
The energy between us is different now, palpably so. She regards me from behind her sunglasses. I stare back at her. She breaks the contact by running her hand through her hair and taking off her sunglasses. She rolls her head back, eyes closed in the sunlight that glints between trees.
I stretch her toes out three or four times, then run my hands over the tops of her feet to press in on her arches.
“That’s nice,” she says.
“Does your boyfriend do this for you?”
“Oh yeah,” she responds. “Any time I want.” A glance at the bench.
“Good man,” I say. She smiles. Because if he didn’t, I was going to somehow hunt him down and pound his ass good. Then I take a risk. “He likes your feet, huh?”
Gina rolls her head forward and locks her eyes onto mine. “Yup,” she says. Then, just because she can, she asserts control again. “Hey,” she says, pulling out her phone. “Hold my feet.” I put my hands on her smooth soles, and she takes a picture of her feet.
“So what’s your boyfriend going to say about that?” I’m thinking this could turn ugly if I’m not careful.
Gina stares at the image on the phone and gives a casual shrug. Okay, she’s playing her own game here. Either Mr. Boyfriend is completely whipped by her into a tormented frenzy, or it’s his game too. Whatever, it’s none of my business and I don’t care. All I care about now is figuring out a way to suck Gina’s toes. And here comes the adrenaline, whoosh. I begin to work on them with my fingers, palpating each toe softly, working one hand on each pinky toe, moving inward to her index toes and back out. When I get back to her pinky toes, I pull on them to make them pop. Each of those gracefully long eight toes pops when I pull.
“Hmm,” Gina laughs softly through a closed smile. “I’m crackly.” She rolls her head back and closes her eyes again. I make a circle with my right thumb and index finger, running it up and down her right big toe, gentle pressure encircling it entirely. Gina flexes her foot in the tiniest little jerk. “Oh,” she says quietly. “It’s like you’re sucking on it with your fingers.”
“Is that okay?”
“Yeah,” she exhales. “Feels great.” Now I know I’m on top of my game here. Houston, Tranquility Base here, The Eagle has landed.
“Do you like to have your toes sucked?” I stare right at her, absolutely calm.
Gina rolls her head forward. “Yes,” she whispers. She stares right into me, beaming a telepathic message directly into my brain. The wordless message is: Do It.
I lean forward towards her right foot. I stare at the flower on her nail. Slowly, carefully, I put my lips around her toe, being careful not to scrape my teeth on her nail. I touch my tongue lightly on the tip of her toe. I pull my mouth away from her toe and look up at her. “That okay?” I ask.
Her eyes are slits. “Yeah,” she whispers back. I move to her left big toe, drawing it into my mouth up to the cuticle, pausing. Then I cradle the bottom of her toe with my tongue, and suck it in all the way in. I hold it there for a few seconds, then with suction, I pull it out of my mouth. I glance up, and I see some jack-off walking along the adjacent sidewalk, staring in mild shock. Beat it, lunchbox, we’re busy here. He keeps walking.
Now it’s time to turn my attention to the rest of her toes. I take each one in turn, first her left index, then left middle. Switch to the right foot, index, middle, then the ring and pinky in succession. Then back to the left foot’s ring and pinky. After I suck each toe, I gently kiss the tips of the four smaller toes. When I get to the big toe, I gently, very delicately, hold the tip in my teeth.
Gina giggles softly. “I hope my feet aren’t smelly,” she says.
“Nope,” I respond. “They don’t smell like anything. Like clean skin.” Silently, Gina gazes at her shoes, next to her on the grass. I follow her gaze. “Good shoes, then,” I say, nodding towards them.
“Do you like them?”
I consider this, reaching over to pick one up. It’s a high-quality brand. I see the size printed on the inside. I get lost in thought as I run my finger around the opening, slowing as I reach the front.
“Toe cleavage!” She suddenly exclaims. We both laugh. She’s quite pleased with herself. I put the shoe down and go back to her feet, moving my hands up to her ankles.
“I like this,” I say, fingering her anklet.
“Thanks.”
“Do you ever wear rings on your toes?”
“No,” Gina responds. “They never fit right. The cuffs always pinch me.” She regards her toes. “And I really only like to wear white gold or platinum.”
“Hm,” I say. “Try a comfort-cut wedding band sometime.”
“Huh,” She mulls this for a few seconds. “But I don’t really like the way they look on me.”
“Yeah. ‘Gilding the Lily.’”
“Hey, can I lay on my stomach?”
“As you like,” I say. Gina rolls over. Her skirt falls across her bottom. Exquisite. The fabric in her black leggings sparkles a bit in the sun. She raises both legs up at the knee, tilts both her feet down, and slowly spreads her toes, inches from my face. I cradle her feet together and place both soles on my face, moving to kiss her arches. Then I lick each sole, slowly from the space under her toes to where her heel starts. Gina has her arms folded on the grass in front of her, resting her head on them with her face to the bench.
There’s a dude sitting there now.
He’s facing us, but looking in some other direction. I hope he’s not a cop. Oh well if he is. Gotta pay to play, I suppose. I don’t care. I move Gina’s feet so that her toes are resting flexed on my chest. I run my hands down her legs to her knees, and I feel her clench her toes through my shirt. Involuntarily, I breathe in sharply. She responds by slipping her big toe between the buttons of my shirt. She pulls hard, stretching against the tension of the fabric until it slips out from between her toes.
My god.
She lowers her feet back down, and I continue to rub from her calves to her toes and back. This goes on and on, and suddenly, the clock tower chimes five bells. Gina suddenly rolls back over, props herself up on her elbows, and stares at me.
************************************************************************************ AUTHOR’S NOTE: Two alternate endings proceed from here, numbered 1 and 2. ***********************************************************************************
1.
“Well,” Gina says, “this has been awesome, but I need to get going soon.”
“Yeah,” I say. Hell, you can’t sit here sucking toes forever, dude. But I can suck them one more time. I start on her left foot. In response, she picks up her phone and points it at me, steadily.
Video, huh?
Enjoy that, Mr. Boyfriend. “My turn,” I say. I hand her my little point-and-shoot. Wordlessly, she turns it on. “The one-touch record is on the—”
“I see it,” Gina says. She points both devices at me. After sucking each toe twice, I kiss the tips of each one. “Mm-kay,” she says. She puts her phone back in her purse, hands me my camera, and reaches for her shoes. Mine is still recording. We stand up, then face each other.
Gina stares up at me for a moment, her hair glinting in the light of the sinking sun. She brushes a strand from her eyes. We embrace in a hug. I move to kiss her cheek, and she kisses mine. She pulls away.
“Thanks,” she smiles.
“Thank you,” I respond. “See you.”
Gina turns and walks away. She walks back past that bench, ignoring the dude, and on into the building behind. He, however, is staring at her. I reach for my cigarettes, pull one out, and light it up. I turn and walk away in the opposite direction. Then I stop. I want a picture of the bench, for posterity.
It’s not until after I take the picture that I realize the dude is gone. No matter.
I turn, staring up at the sky. Time for a drink. And the road is calling.
Five bells. Gina continues to stare at me. She glances over her shoulder, then a mischievous smile spreads across her face. “Come on!” She jumps up, slides each foot into her ballet flats, arms swinging out from her waist girlishly. She brushes her skirt down, then leans over to pick up her purse. “Let’s go!”
I stand up, momentarily confused, but no way I’m quitting this, no sir. She leads me past the bench. Part of my brain notices that the dude turns his head the other way. Gina reaches over and takes my hand into hers as we pass him. She leads me into the building, through an open lobby. We turn a corner, and here is a cloistered stairway. She goes under the stairs, and in a tiny, cozy alcove, are two upholstered chairs!
“Sit down,” she says. Yes Ma’am. The chairs are facing each other. Gina pushes the small table in between them out of the way, sits down, leans back, and puts her feet right on my junk.
Okay baby, I get it.
I grab both feet and rub them against myself. Her eyes are ablaze with mischief now, staring at my crotch. She grasps the waistband of my shorts with the toes of her right foot. I undo them, and pull out my cock.
“Nice,” she comments. “Shaved, too. Good man.” She reaches for her phone, and zooms in on my cock standing between her feet. Then she grasps my shaft with both sets of toes, and makes three attempts to stroke it. Each time it slides from between her feet.
“I’m not very coordinated today,” she laughs.
“Here,” I say. Cock out, blood gone from out of my head, I clumsily scoot my chair closer a few inches. I bang my knee on the stupid table, cursing. I pull both of her feet up to my mouth as I start to suck and lick her toes while I stroke myself.
“I can’t see,” she pouts. I scoot until I’m in a configuration where she can see me stroke myself while I lick her feet. “Come on them,” she says firmly.
I want to come on them, all over them, but I know we’re done for good once that happens. I’m gonna make this last.
“Make you wait,” I say, my voice muffled by her toes. She pushes my face with her soles roughly. “Bastard,” she smiles. Then she flips me off. I can’t help it, I laugh. She opens her mouth in mock outrage, pulling her feet off my face. I grab her right ankle hard, pulling it toward me. “Gimme that,” I grunt. “I love your toes. So hot.”
“Then come on them. Come for me.” Gina bends her left leg across her body, grasps her foot, and pulls it up to her face, staring at me. I moan. So hot.
“Oh, you like that huh?” She pulls her foot up to her face and licks the side of her big toe. She kisses it, and then bites it. I’m not gonna last.
She flexes both legs down, pointing those long, pretty pink toes right at my cock. “Come for me. Come on them.”
I blow all over her toes, a copious load smothering the little flowers on her pink toes. Not so pink now. She smiles a satisfied smile, and rubs her feet together, distributing the coating over the tops of her toes and her soles into a soft sheen. I heave a sigh. Damn. I stare at the indentation her anklet made in her skin from when I was holding her there.
Silently, she sits up, slips her feet into her flats, stands up and stares at me for a moment. Spent, junk hanging out, dripping, I stare up at her in a daze. She regards me.
“Thanks,” she says. She turns and leaves. As she walks out of the little alcove, I can hear the new squeak of her wet, sticky feet in her ballet flats. The sound fades as her footsteps get further and further away. A door, then silence.
I compose myself, look around, still in daze from what just happened. Well, there’s no topping that today, and I don’t want to try. I shuffle out the building, and stop at the now-empty bench.
I sit down, pull out a cigarette, and light up. I smoke and watch the setting sun.
posted
OK WAZ, here's another story with a different point of view. To other folks who might skip around in threads (like me): This makes more sense if you read the story above first. Also, Tuck the kids in, PG time is over.
********************************* UNTITLED #2
It’s a little game we like to play.
Well, it started out that way, but Gina fucking ran with it.
We’d only been dating a few weeks when I first confided my foot fetish to Gina. I was worried about telling her. At worst, I thought she would be totally grossed out and dump me. At best, I’d probably get an unenthusiastic footjob every couple of months. But she blew my fucking mind.
“You keep saying that,” she said one night, after the umpteenth time I’d casually mentioned how I thought her feet were pretty, or that I liked her shoes, or whatever. Then I poured it all out. I’ll never forget that scene. We were sitting on the couch at her place, the TV was on mute. She listened, she asked questions. She really wanted to know how the fetish works. I told her about how pretty her feet are, and why they are pretty. When I finished, she put her feet up on the table and looked at them, really looked at them, long and hard.
“Wow,” she said.
After that, the floodgates fucking opened. She’d send a picture of her feet to me almost every day. Every time she put a new color on her toes, every time she bought new shoes. Hell, every time she felt like it, which was a lot. She’d shoot a dozen at work if she got bored, and message me. She knew I’d drop whatever I was doing an wank furiously. She wanted to hear about that. Oh, she has me twisted up, alright. It’s fucking great.
I started playing with her feet during sex. Turns out she loved having her toes sucked, and I’m the first guy who’s ever done that with her. She gives me fabulous footjobs, it’s awesome when she’s staring at me while jerking my cock with her feet. She rubs it all in when I’m done. Sometimes, she’ll put her shoes back on and spend a day, or a night, in those sticky shoes.
Her favorite part, no doubt, is the footrubs. That is to say, bragging to her friends about how pampered she is. When we’re at someone’s apartment, or whatever, she’ll put her feet in my lap. Her friends say she’s so lucky. One time I caught a guy at the bar checking out her feet. It should have pissed me off, because he was staring like a fucking creep. Not entirely true. He was just staring. I pointed him out to Gina, and she just laughed. But something about it was kinda... I don’t know. That was about six months ago.
And then last night, I really thought I blew it. I got liquored up and I finally told Gina my latest, most dirty and secret fantasy. I told her I wanted to watch another guy worship her feet. She was quiet for a second, and then she asked me, “What does that mean?” I told her I wanted to see a guy rub her feet, kiss them, and maybe suck her toes. I started to say that maybe I wanted to see another guy come on her feet, but I stopped myself. I wasn't that wasted.
She was real quiet after that. We parted for the night, and I spent most of it awake, worried about what I fucked up. And then today, ten minutes ago, she texted me. All it said was this:
meet me in Winter Hall taking pics this time u watch
So, I dropped my shit and walked across campus to the building and met her in the hallway. She walked me to the middle and all she said was, “Stand here. And watch.” She pointed out the window she took me to. Then she turned on her heel and walked off.
“Watch what?” I called after her. I was confused. What game is she playing now? She turned her head while she walked off. Her hair flipped in that way that makes me instantaneously hard. She turned, and then she was gone. I looked out the window. Nothing but a bench, grass and trees. I can’t even sit down, I’m just standing here at this window in the hall like a fuckbag. Okay Gina, whatever.
There she is. She’s wearing black flats. Huh. She doesn’t have a pair of black flats. I guess she does now. I like them with the leggings and the anklet though. Maybe she can wear them tonight. She looks damn good sitting there on that bench.
Look at this asshole. Going over and sitting down to watch her where he thinks she won’t see him. Asshole. Yeah, keep looking around buddy. Whoa, I should probably chill out a little. Probably just a dude, perfectly cool. Probably not an asshole.
Oh, and here come the cigarettes. Uh oh. Gina only smokes when she’s drunk or feeling slutty. And she never buys them. So, what the fuck? And now the shoes come off, nice. Pink toes today. Damn, those are bright. I see you looking at me, you little slut. And here comes the cam. Strike a pose, sweetheart.
First pic. I’ll be blasting a hole through that later. She’s never done it out in the open like this. And it sure got Asshole’s attention! Look at this guy! He’s gonna fall off the fucking bench, man! Funny. Second pic. Oh, this guy’s fucking riveted now! Get a good look, Asshole. How often do you see that? Gina shoots me another look. Do you think I’m gonna go anywhere, darlin’? Shit.
Hey, where ya goin’, Asshole? Oh. He’s got a cig and is gonna ask her for a light, probably. Fucking trite. She’s outta your league, dude. You’re not exactly her type. This guy has dark hair. You’re not her type, Asshole. I am.
But he’s talking to her. And, they are both looking at her feet.
Interesting.
Another look towards me from Gina. And now—what the—HE’S got a camera, and HE’S taking a picture of her feet! That is cool! But shit, look at his hand shake! All he’s gonna get from that shot is ten pink streaks. Still, I’d jerk off to that. Man, she is playing it cool. They’re chatting again. She seems to be enjoying herself.
And how she’s holding her foot. He says something.
Whoa.
She’s… She’s giving him her foot! What the—he’s rubbing it!
Fuck!
I feel my dick getting rock hard. That little slut! That fucking, little… fucking hot slut! Oh, fuck! I look around the hallway. Empty. Just like campus today. Lucky. Now she’s got both feet in his lap. I can’t see around the fucking bench. She’s smoking again.
I text her:
fukn hot
She’s ignoring it! Look at her head roll around. Asshole must give a good footrub. I wish I could see! Wait, what are they..? They’re leaving! Where..? They’re walking… Stopping at that tree… shoes off. She looks back here. He’s rubbing his hands together.
This guy’s good. Look at her there. Good job, Asshole! She’s got her cam…
Oh fuck. Is that gonna be a picture of her feet in his hands? Fuckfuckfuck that’s hot. More rubbing. I can’t see shit from in here. I gotta get the fuck outta here. Bench yeah. I run down the hall. With the biggest hardon of my life.
Outside. Okay, be cool, be quiet. Okay. Bench. Better. Breathe. Still there, good. And now, he’s—
No fucking way! You. Are. Shitting. Me.
He’s kissing her feet! No! He’s sucking her toes! She’s loving it! Fucking look at her! He’s really going at it, too. Like a lot. Shit, motherfucker, save some for me. Man, my goddamn cock is gonna blow these pants right off.
Ha ha, here’s comes some shithead walking down the sidewalk. He can’t believe it. It’s not every day you see some dude in the grass at school sucking some girl’s toes.
Sucking my Gina’s toes.
Now he’s got her shoe in his hand, running his finger along the top. They both laugh at something. God, I wanna beat off right here. I’m thinking about it. No. But I will fuck her tonight, hard and good. Now they’re talking again while he rubs his hands all over her feet.
Now what? She’s on her tummy now. He’s staring at her ass. Oh, she’s stretched out looking right at me while Asshole licks her soles. I can see her eyes glued right on me. I am gonna have a fucking heart attack. He looks up. I look away. If he thinks I’m watching him he’s gonna get spooked and split.
Maybe I want him to.
And I don’t. I want this to play out. This is confusing. I’m watching my sweet girl get her feet worshipped by some Asshole that I don’t even know. And I’m jealous. And I love it.
I must be fucking crazy.
They’re still there. Shit, it’s been a long time. How long, I wond—
Clock Tower. Five! Almost an hour and a half! Okay, now Gina’s rolled over and is sitting up. Now what? She’s just staring at him. Did he piss her off? She looks over here. Stop doing that! Okay! They’re standing up. She’s leading him… over here! What the fuck? I can’t be looking at them. Before I turn my head Gina looks right fucking at me. And she grabs his hand!
What. The. Fuck. Is. Happening.
They went into Winter Hall! Now what?
I almost wish I had a smoke. I guess I’ll wait.
******************************************* Quarter past. The door to Winter Hall opened a bunch of times, and a bunch of times it was not Gina or Asshole. Door again. I look. It’s her. She’s walking fast, towards me. She comes to the bench, and somehow without stopping, she grabs my hand, pulls me up and says, “Come on!”
We walk next door to the Library. “Gina,” I start. She tells me to shut up. What the fuck? We go downstairs to the basement level, around the hall, and into a study carrel. She shuts the door. I stand there in the little room, completely confused and kinda pissed about having to wait. And still a little turned on. She turns to the side. Instinctively, I look down at her feet. Her toe cleavage is shiny. She completely ignores me while she slips off these mysterious black flats. Her feet are actually wet. All over her toes, in between too. She looks at me, twists her right foot on the tile floor, then lifts it to reveal her wet footprint. Little white strings stretch out.
Then in a sudden motion, she turns to me, steps forward, and pushes me hard into the wall. It thuds and shakes when I hit it. She grabs me around the neck, pulls my ear down to her mouth roughly, and bites it, hard.
And then she whispers, “My feet are all sticky.” She pulls back, looks me in the eyes, then kisses me on the mouth.
I’m stunned, not kissing back. It takes a minute to sink in. Sticky. STICKY. Asshole. She took him somewhere and he came on her feet.
Suddenly my dick is throbbing hard again and I’m kissing her back in a frenzy. But she pushes away, gets down on her knees, and unzips my pants. She pulls out my cock and then it’s surrounded by the wetness of her mouth. She slides me in, out, in, out, and then she takes me deep, almost all the way in. I look at her feet. Her soles are up and they are glistening with another guy’s come.
“You fucking naughty slut,” I moan. She finds that funny. She begins furiously working me with her mouth. I don’t last long. She swallows it all, pulling back, wiping her lips and staring at me with the most shit-eating grin I’ve ever seen.
Gina moves quickly over to a chair. She pulls off her leggings, carefully avoiding smearing her feet on them. “Come on,” she beckons, legs spread. My first thought is that these carrel doors don’t lock. My only other thought is, Fuck it. I get down on my knees and begin to lick her pussy.
“Did that make you hot?” She mocks me. “Did you like seeing him suck on my pink toes?” I get hard again. “Do you like seeing his come in my shoes? You’re the naughty one, not me.” She stops talking, concentrating on what I’m doing. Then it’s her turn to go off on me.
I don’t let her come down. I pick her up and lay her on the table on her back.
“Wait,” she says. “Hand me my purse.”
“Are you kidding me?” But I do it. She pulls out her cam and shows me a picture. It’s her feet and a cock. Not my cock.
Fuck. That spins me out like fucking crazy. I grab her ankles and penetrate her. Her come-covered feet are inches away from my face.
I enjoyed both of them, but especially the first one and ending #1. I like how you tied them together, as well.
Posts: 2828 | Registered: Jun 2010
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quote:Originally posted by ROYALS22262: Danielle, your website is elegant, beautiful, and a pure joy, just as you are. The pictures of your legs and feet in shear sandalfoot hose on your desk are some of my very favorite of all time. Just gorgeous. I would love to see more pictures of your legs and feet in sandalfoot hose, so you can see your gorgeous toes well! I would love to read a story from you where you dominate a woman with your feet at work! Where she must worship and smell your sexy feet! HOT!! THANKS FOR EVERYTHING! DAVE...ROYALS22262
You made me blush...lol Thank you for the wonderful compliments and I will certainly do more photos involving sandalfoot hose and my legs.
It's this type of feedback that inspires me to do more work, to be honest I was getting bored doing the photos as i wasn't get much response.
posted
Cool second story hyp, and thanks for throwing one in beautifulfeet it was awesome. I love that people are contributing to this thread. I believe a lot more people enjoy these than you think. I mean its got several replies, 3-4 people already contributing, and you know there are lurkers who are reading and enjoying but not saying so. So i think it could be pretty popular.
Ill throw mine in. This was actually written by my GF. And for background, Calli is her best friend, the photographer (who she didn't know really who she was talking about but knows of him) is actually Patrick, now described isn't his type of soles of silk work and it involves film and photos but hey its a fictional story, and the fourth guy is a stranger, could be anyone. As for the "you" in the story, it was written for me so It technically is me, but go ahead and consider that anyone also.
It was some random weekend in Spring when Calli and I made the drive to Maryland. We were going to meet you and the photographer who said he would be down to take pictures of my feet. At first Calli wasn't sure she wanted to get involved (as she isn't into the feet thing at all but definitely open minded) but after a little encouragement she agreed and soon became almost as excited as you and me. We finally made it to Baltimore and met you in the parking lot. I could tell you were excited. We walked in to the studio where we greeted the photographer. After introductions were made, he asked to see my feet. He told us how thrilled he was that we had made the trip and that he couldn't wait to photograph some of the most beautiful feet he had ever seen. So I slipped off my Uggs and sat down in a chair. He asked if he could massage them and I happily agreed. He eagerly took my sweaty feet into his hands. He massaged the balls of feet and worked his hands over the soles down to the heels. He then felt each long, slender toe. "WOW!" he exclaimed excitedly. After he was satisfied and had explored the length of my size 9 feet, it was time to get to business.
He introduced us to the 4th person who would be involved in the photos. He was about the same age as us and was just as excited to get to know my feet. So we went to the stage that the photographer had set up. There was a bed and a couch set up like a bedroom. He told us to pretend he wasn't there and to go at it. So you, Calli, the other guy, and I went on the stage. I laid down on the couch with my feet hanging over the armrest. The other guy dropped to his knees and immediately began to worship my feet. He rubbed the smooth soles and sighed with pleasure when I wrinkled them. I spread my long toes as far as I could and he began sucking on them. I then demanded Calli to come do the same to my other foot while you sat on the chair watching with excitement. She came over next to the guy and kneeled down and took my foot into her hands. I leaned my head back as they massaged my feet. I playfully pressed my feet into their faces. "Bite on my heels!" I ordered. They obediently began to chew gently on the heels of my feet. "Suck my toes!" I said getting more and more demanding. The began sucking on my toes noisily. My long toes wiggled in their mouths covered in their saliva. "Play with yourselves!" I said. Calli and the guy began to play with themselves and groaned in pleasure. I looked over at you and smiled coyly at the sight of you playing with yourself too. I was the queen and everyone was worshipping my sexy feet. I told Calli and the guy to stand up and pressed my feet against his hard cock. I asked if he liked when I did that and he nodded, swallowing hard. I began giving him a foot job and told Calli to sit on the arm rest. I told the guy to worship her feet while I rubbed my sweaty feet up and down, gripping his cock with my long toes. Finally, I told you to come over to us. I ordered Calli to put her feet in your face. She breathed in the scent of her feet and smiled happily. I then took my feet and pushed Calli's away telling her that her's were not good enough for you. I shoved then in your face and asked which were better. You breathed in my sweaty, stinky feet that I could smell myself and said that no one's were better than mine. I then began to give you a foot job. You moaned and groaned. I then told you and the guy to jerk off and cum on my feet. So you both stood next to each other and began jerking off. I told Calli to put her feet in my face. I began to worship her feet and sucked on her short, fat toes, the opposite of my own. You and the guy became really excited to see me kissing and licking Calli's feet. I felt the warm cum on my feet as you both just let it go each grabbing your individual foot as if it was your dying possession. I just smiled in pleasure and triumph. You and the guy stumbled back knees weak, dripping sweat from working yourselves so hard over my prized toes. I told Calli to clean my feet. She started to look around for a towel or tissues. I yelled Calli, What are you doing, just use your mouth already. A look of are you serious with an interested and excited twist came over her face. She then quickly got to my feet while we both looked over at the you guys with a devilish grin. She bent down and licked all of the cum from both my feet until they were shining with her saliva.
Just then the photographer yelled "cut!" and said that was the best material he had ever gotten. We watched the video and looked at the pictures. After that, he gave us some copies of the video and screenshots and said next time Im going to be up there with you guys. I said next time? Why not right now? Posts: 488 | Registered: Mar 2008
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posted
Nancy teases a little girl! Nancy loves attention to her gorgeous feet by anyone, she doesn't care who, where or when. I guess that is why she drives me so crazy, and her husband too for that matter. She will take advantage of any situation. That is why I have so many stories about her, because she loves this stuff as much as us. Her pedicured size 8 feet always seem to wind up in someones face! Her husband called me to share this story, I was not there, but Nancy wanted me to find out about it. This happened about 5 years ago, Nancy's son was about to turn one, but another family member was having a birthday party for their kid. It was her husbands family and she didn't want to go, but she felt she had to because her kids party was to be soon after. It was a Sunday afternoon, so that morning she got a fresh pedicure, and decided to wear black flat strappy sandals to show off her newly painted hot pink toes. Many people were outside, Nancy sat on the couch inside watching her one year old crawl and play on the floor. A little 6 year old female cousin was playing with him and plastic blocks. Nancy is dangling her sandal inches from Dina's face, and the little 6 year old starts to stare at her wiggling foot. Your toes are pretty!!! the little girl says, almost out of the blue- and her full attention is on Nancy's foot! Nancy sensing a good time, asks the little girl if she wants to play with her foot? Her husband can't believe her, but let's her have her fun. Sure! The little girl says! Please take my shoe off my poor sore toes. The little girl does it. Go ahead, play with my foot. The right bare foot dangles an inch from the little girl's face, Nancy wiggles her toes. Dina puts her fingers through her toes, pulls on them a little, and rubs the bare foot by her face! That feels sooo good! Rub my feet some more, take the other sandal off too! The girl does everything she says. I hope my feet don't smell too bad- are they alright? I guess so, the girl answers. Take a deep sniff on each foot to be sure. Dina looks puzzled, but says OK. Nancy lifts the right bare sole and sticks her foot right in the young girl's face. The girl smells it, but Nancy doesn't move it, and Dina smells it more! Dina gets weak and starts to slump down. Nancy says, thats a good girl, just lay here at my pretty feet. The girl lies down flat on her back, Nancy lifts her left foot and places it on her little face. The girl sniffs it! Do you like the smell of my pretty feet? Yes, the girl says quietly. Do you play with your mommies feet? I try but she doesn't let me! I will let you, smell my feet all you want! Nancy sits there like a queen with this little girl smelling her feet! Her husband sits there watching her feet in action! Kiss my feet too, ok, Nancy instructs. The girls mother wonders into the room and is upset right away. Your daughter took my shoes off, and she seems to like smelling my feet, so I let her! Dina!!!! Get up now and stop that! I'm sorry, she tries it with me, and of course I don't let her! I didn't want to upset her, so I let her have her fun, Nancy said. I don't blame you, it's my daughter, I don't know why she does these things. We're leaving right now Dina, let's go! Nancy laughed, winked at her husband in a private moment, and then they both looked at the sexy feet another victim smelled and kissed, and laughed again!!!!!
Posts: 1914 | Registered: Sep 2004
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