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The Convert By Katy Terrega |
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“I’m sorry, Jack, what did you say?” I managed, quite diplomatically, I
thought. What I really wanted to say was, “Excuse me, but are you out of your
fucking mind?! Let you do what with my feet?!”
And then, continuing my fantasy outrage, I would have huffed, “What kind of girl do you think I am, anyway?!” Instead, I stayed calm, looked him in the eyes, and actually listened to his answer, surprising myself, if not him. I nodded politely as he explained his preference for legs and feet. I smiled when he told me about some of the other reactions he’d received when he’d revealed said preferences. And by the time he’d finished the story of the waitress who’d calmly listened to his come-on, taken off her high heeled shoe, filled it with his beer and then just as calmly poured it over his head, he had me laughing. He really was a nice guy, I already knew that. The reason the whole subject had come up was that tonight was going to be the night. We’d gone out with some friends of his to a little Italian joint, then on to a neighborhood bar for a couple of drinks. After about an hour of slow dancing, kissing and snuggling while everyone else gyrated around us, we smiled at each other and took off for my place. We’d been going out for a month or so, taking it slow, both of us hurting from being burned before. Mainly I was taken in by his charm. Jack would quite literally do any thing for me, most of the time before I even asked for it. He deferred to me always, letting me be the boss, from what movie we were going to see to when we were going to finally get to fuck. So I’d felt totally in control when we got to my house. I started to unbutton his shirt but he stopped me, letting me know that he wanted to do the honors. He set me gently down in a chair and took off my shoes, expertly kneading my feet through my pantyhose. I relaxed into his firm caress, enjoying the way his probing fingers seemed to find every sore spot. And then he said he’d like to suck my toes. After I’d stopped laughing, (from the waitress story, that is), I decided to tell him the truth. “Look, Jack,” I said, hesitating a little. “It sounds fine, really, even a little interesting and all, but you don’t understand, you see, I…I…um…” I was really stammering now “…you see, I have big feet. I mean, I’m talking about really big feet.” Jack laughed at that, and started massaging again. “Did you think I didn’t know that?,” he asked, a little facetiously. Well, even I had to concede that point. A person into feet I’m sure would have tended to notice that not-so-little fact about me already. “Ok,” I granted, nodding my head, “but I have to be honest with you, I’m just not as foot oriented as most, and so, well, I haven’t exactly taken care of them so well, you know…” God, I sounded lame, even to myself. But I barreled on ahead anyway, “Look, Jack, I wouldn’t want you anywhere near my toes, I mean, for god’s sake, I haven’t had a pedicure since, well, since I don’t even remember when!” Shaking his head, Jack moved closer to me. “Carolyn,” he said gently, “that’s what I’m here for.” He increased the pressure on my insole and kept talking. “We’ll just take it slow for now. Tonight I’ll just give you a massage, and if you like that, maybe next time I can give you a pedicure. And then, if you like that, maybe…” His fingers were on my big toe now, massaging the base and bending it slightly backward. I had a sudden sensation of what his mouth would feel like, sucking hard. I was surprised at how much I liked that idea. “…Well, we’ll just see how it goes,” he finished, and kept rubbing. I didn’t protest, I just leaned back into the chair’s cushions and relaxed as he did his foot massage thing. And what a thing it was. Lovingly, Jack stroked each one of my toes, pressing hard as he drew his thumbs expertly from base to tip. I moaned a little when he started on the arches, the mixture of just a little bit of pain and a whole hell of a lot of pleasure was almost too much to bear. He murmured softly while he worked, endearing little phrases like, “Mmmmm, sweet,” and “Aaahhhhh, so lovely.” I have to tell you, it was pretty intoxicating stuff for a woman with size 10 feet, used to being ashamed and embarrassed, not revered and adored. By the time he’d worked his way back up to my ankle, after touching on places that I never knew existed, I was a puddle of relaxation, sunk deep into my chair. He rose from his knees and placed his hands on the arms of my chair, his face close to mine. “Like it?” he whispered, gently. “Mmmmmmmm,” I murmured, managing to open my heavy eyelids and smile at him. I lifted my mouth invitingly and he obliged, kissing me deeply, his tongue feeling like an extension of his fingers. He drew back, looking satisfied and said, “Well, then, I’ll be off now.” A peck on the cheek, a grab for his coat and he was out the door, before I had time to even catch my breath, let alone ask him what the hell he was doing, leaving me all… Leaving me all what? I managed to ask myself, through my confusion. Well, duh, myself managed to answer back, the confusion rapidly clearing second by second. It seems that the tingling that I’d been feeling, those delicious, sensuous rivers of sensation that had so intoxicated me, had been busy traveling. From my deeply massaged toes on up into my calves, through my thighs and straight as an arrow into my clit they went. Matter of fact, I noticed I’d become quite a river myself, my pussy was practically gushing. Well, that bastard! That’s why he left so quickly, the fucking tease. No doubt he was well aware of how a little virgin at foot fetishes would react to his expert touch. I slid one finger experimentally up my skirt and into my panties. Sure enough, my slippery juice was everywhere. I dipped my finger in my pussy and let it travel upward, slicking up my throbbing clit while I thought about the evening and marveled at what had happened. Had that really been me? Me and my big size ten’s enjoying the hell out of a foot massage? From a guy? A guy that I liked? And I didn’t have to pay for any of this? Leisurely, my finger circled my swollen nub and I remembered how Jack had murmured lovingly as he massaged. The idea that he had actually enjoyed what he was doing was an incredible turn on. I pressed harder my aching clit, remembering his voice, and was rewarded with an answering ache in my toes. As thought Jack were still here, his hands all over my feet.
I could practically feel the slide of his big thumbs, pressing hard from my heel up into my arches and out to my toes. I allowed my own fingers to glide in that same sensuous way into my pussy, then back up to my now throbbing clit. And I couldn’t help but notice that it wasn’t just my clit that was throbbing. The tingling in my feet became so intense that it was almost painful. And somehow I knew that there was only one way to take the ache out, only one way to get the release I was suddenly craving. One hand still deep in my pussy, I reached for the phone with the other. Somehow I managed to dial Jack’s number, fumbling with the buttons with just one hand, not willing to let go of my clit even for a second. I knew Jack wouldn’t be home yet so my message was brief… “Be here tomorrow night at eight,” I said, my voice low. “And bring the polish,” I added, with what I hoped was some authority, although it was probably more of a gasp. Then I hung up and hurriedly went back to work. I stuck three fingers deep into my sopping twat, and groaned as they filled me up. I imagined that they were Jack’s fingers and that after he’d lubed them up, he’d smear that creamy juice all over my toes, which were hot now with sensation. My clit swelled even more as I thought of him licking the juice off of me, sucking my toes deep into his mouth, pulling hard with his tongue. That same arrow of desire that had shot up from my toes while Jack was massaging them was now firing directly down again. My clit suddenly exploded, sending fireworks downward, making me groan as my feet clenched hard with the feeling. My toes curled and stretched as the spasms tore through my pussy. I kept my finger on my clit and imagined Jack’s tongue, his fingers, his hot breath all over my feet, sucking and kneading them as I came. My finger slowed, finally, reluctantly, as the waves of pleasure ebbed. But the throbbing I felt now was different than my usual post-orgasm after glow. I felt a strong tingling up and down my legs, they were alive with sexual sensation. My feet felt swollen, just like my clit had felt just a few moments before. It was all I could do to walk all the to the bed, I was so blissfully weak. And I was practically giddy thinking about the following night. I thought I’d never get to sleep, that the ache deep in my core would keep me awake. But to my surprise, I fell into a deep, satisfying sleep. ~ I spent a lot of time getting ready the next day. Just thinking about the night to come kept me in a constant state of horniness. Shaving my legs was an exercise in patience, trying to keep my fingers out of my twat long enough to get the job done. I figured that Jack would be only too happy to do it for me next time, but that could wait. I decided on a short skirt, tight and black. And I ditched the bra and panties, figuring that neither one would have much use tonight. Freshly buffed and puffed and scrubbed and shaved, I was the picture of anticipation when the doorbell rang promptly at 8, although I tried not to show it. “Well, I see you got my message,” I said, raising an eyebrow. “Oh, I got your message loud and clear,” he grinned at me, raising an eyebrow of his own. “It was a pretty clear message after all, eh?” I ignored that. “What’d you bring me?” I asked, eyeing the brown bag in his arms and swinging open the door to let him in. He led me to the same chair we’d started in last night. “Make yourself comfortable,” he said, “and you’ll see.” He went rummaging about the kitchen for what seemed like an eternity while I lounged in my big overstuffed armchair, trying to keep my fingers off of my clit. Finally he came out with two drinking glasses filled with something bubbly and a plate of the most exquisite looking chocolate truffles I had ever seen. “For you, madam,” he said in his best British accent, “champagne and truffles.” And he bowed low at my feet before setting the glasses and plate on the table next to me. Damn! Chocolate, champagne and sex! All at the same time! It was all I could do not to squeal out loud in delight. Back to the kitchen he went, returning with a bowl of sudsy water, nail polish and the various other tools of his trade. Without a word he bent to his task, placing one of my feet in the warm water and beginning to expertly massage the other, his long slow strokes making me close my eyes and melt into the armchair. His big thumbs were back on my arches, making me groan. Embarrassed at my reaction, I pulled back a little. Reassuringly, he held on and stroked my calf. “No, Carolyn,” he murmured gently. And then, softly, “…so beautiful.” I gave in, feeling beautiful and loved. Some time later, after he’d switched feet and began gently working on my cuticles, he spoke, bringing me out of my torpor. “Please let me see,” he said, his voice husky. I opened my eyes, not understanding what he meant, until I realized that my fingers, resting on top of my skirt, were gently circling my mound. I opened my legs wider and tugged up my skirt, exposing my closely cropped bush. His eyes focused on my pussy for a moment, but then I wiggled my toes. He quickly got back to work, opening a fresh bottle of fire engine red nail polish and beginning to expertly apply it. The sharp smell of polish permeated my senses and the cold brush of polish on my toenail sent a shock wave of sexual energy through my foot. I opened my pussy lips wide with one hand so that when he glanced furtively up from my toes, he had a perfect view of my swollen little nub poking it’s head out. He continued his work, applying polish with quick, efficient movements, while I stroked my clit, teasing myself and him, making it last. I dipped my fingers into my juice and heard his quiet gasp as I spread it lovingly around my pussy and then offered some up to him on the tip of one finger. Leaning forward he took it in his mouth, gently at first, tasting me, then suckling and pulling it down deep in his throat. I thought of my toes being treated in the same way, and shivered with anticipation. 
There's Plenty of Girl on Girl Lesbo Leg Action at LegSex.com! Abruptly, I pulled my finger away and sank it deep into my slit, enjoying both the sensation and his answering moan. I leisurely finger fucked myself, drawing my fingers all the way out before sliding them back in with a little moan of my own. His fingers were dry and gentle as he continued painting the last of my toes. His touch was cool although my skin was almost painfully sensitive. It was a moment before I realized that he had stopped painting my toes and had begun to lick them. Short little cat-licks that made me gasp. Then long, slow strokes where I held my breath so that I could better feel his wet tongue on my burning feet. His hands snaked up my calves as he licked, kneading hard. And then he was massaging my thighs, spread wide now for him, while his tongue continued to fondle my feet. His licks came faster now and his breath became more ragged. My fingers stopped as I looked down at him through half lidded eyes. “Do you want to…suck me?” I asked, already knowing his answer. “Yes,” he said, his voice a whisper. “Yes, please, Carolyn.” I didn’t answer, just inclined my head ever so slightly. His warm mouth was instantly on my pussy. He opened his mouth wide to stick his tongue far into my oozing hole, sucking and slurping up the sticky juices. Jack sucked on my pussy with the same intensity that he gave to my feet, which is saying a lot. I pulled my knees up toward my chest, to open up wider for him, liking the way my bright red toenails looked. His tongue skewered me even deeper, making me moan again. But I wanted it all tonight. Before he could start on my clit, I pushed him backward with one foot and then stuck it in his face. I didn’t have to tell him what to do. He took my big toe in his warm mouth and suckled like a baby on a nipple, clearly enjoying himself. My juices were smeared all over his face and now all over my feet as he sucked and nipped and licked. The sight of his arousal, the slurping noises and the intense sensations were almost too much, but I wanted this to last. I pulled my foot away and gestured toward my clit. He followed my lead. Expertly his tongue flicked up and down, back and forth. I felt the tip of his finger circling around my now dripping hole. “Fuck me,” I groaned, and he shoved one finger in hard. “More,” I managed to growl and he shoved two more in, fucking me in earnest now. My feet began to ache again, as the pressure in my pussy built. I felt them throbbing with sexual energy, needing release just as badly as my clit needed it. Jack must have sensed it. As I took his head in my hands and shoved his face harder against my snatch, he latched onto my feet and kneaded them both, his thumbs digging deep into the tender flesh. Lubed up with my own juice, his strokes penetrated everywhere. I squirmed in my chair, I was on the edge. He kept up the same rhythm on my clit, his tongue frantic as his fingers probed relentlessly until I finally exploded, letting out a guttural howl as I came in spasms. His tongue moved faster and his fingers harder as I peaked, my body stiff and trembling under his ministrations. My tender feet seemed to explode along with my clit, sending out waves of pleasure through my calves and my thighs. It all collided until I was just one mass of pleasure, a seemingly bottomless orgasm. When I finally started to come down, he came down with me, slowing his movements until we were both still, panting deeply. After my breathing had returned to normal, he gently licked me clean, starting down deep in the crack near my ass, where my juices had pooled. My feet tingled as his tongue traveled. He made small slurping noises as he sucked my wetness up, moving up to lick my sensitive folds and crevices and finally my clit. Then he gently smoothed my skirt down. “Thank you,” he murmured softly, his face near mine. We kissed once, deep, and I could taste the sharp tang of my sex. “Can I see you tomorrow?” he finally said, pulling away. I just nodded and closed my eyes. “Herbs,” he said simply, and I opened my eyes to look questioningly at him. “Peppermint,” he said, “I’ll bring some peppermint for your soak. I think you’ll be amazed at how it will stimulate those gorgeous feet.” I blushed at the compliment. “Oh, and bring some more of this?” I asked, gesturing, remembering the chocolates and champagne. I popped a chocolate into my mouth and took a long sip of champagne, savoring all of the different tastes, including the lingering one of myself. “Lots more of these,” I amended. He smiled and stood up, the bulge in his pants obvious, straining to get out. I knew he must be aching to get off. Any other man would have been demanding his share, and now. But he left without a word of complaint, leaving me literally vibrating from my clit to my toes. Satisfied, sipping champagne, I was certainly looking forward to tomorrow. Remembering last night, when I’d been so shocked at his confession, I wanted to tell him “Damn, honey, you’ve got yourself a convert.” But I suspected he already knew that. |
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