Ruby Red
He had always had a thing for girls' feet. As a child he remembered watching, fascinated, as his cousin Ruby had painted her toenails when she was babysitting for him. Like some beautiful gargoyle hunched applying the crimson lifeblood of her victims to her delicate claws. He sat below whilst she loomed above, delicately plump toes curled over the edge of the settee like tantalizing grapes just out of reach. He also remembered secretly hoarding pictures from catalogs showing elegantly posed ladies feet in high heels women chosen for the beauty of their feet by bigger boys with similar exotic tastes.
What was it about women's feet? The high, graceful curve of her arches, rising in a high heeled shoe? The inviting plump roundness of her toes? The immaculately applied and pedicured, or grubby bohemian chipped nail polish? The subtle, heady scent? Her reaction to sensual caresses of lips on her feet? It was all of these things and more.
Eventually, he had met women who, it seemed, invariably appreciated his attention to their feet. He learned to kiss, to caress, to tongue bathe every inch of a woman's foot, sometimes tickling slightly, but usually relaxing her gently, preparing the way for some erotic tryst afterwards.
Nowadays, especially during summertime, a simple trip to the town shopping could provide him with mesmeric visions. Outrageously gorgeous women, with their killer curves hidden away (though often only barely), yet openly displaying the features he found most exciting. Not only did these women display their sexy feet, they adorned them beautifully. Polish, sexy shoes, toe rings, ankle bracelets, and the occasional tattoo - they all delighted him and he sometimes found himself bewitched, discreetly following a gorgeous pair of feet through the town, his rebellious member struggling to rise, seeding revolution in his oppressively tight pants.
Today, he was on the bus, on the way home from work. Most of the other passengers were regulars, and he knew them by face if not by name. At the third stop, though, a woman joined the vehicle and sat in the only vacant seat - immediately opposite him. She was forty or so, honey blonde ,though almost certainly not naturally so as a large block of purple nestled within the exotic punky nest of hair, she was pleasantly attractive with glittering mischievous eyes. She was dressed like an artist, in a diaphanous top which barely concealed the soft curves of her breasts and voluptuous belly, she wore faded bohemian jeans with ripped knees and a loose chain belt accentuating the seductive sway of her hips as she walked , she was entrancing , exhilarating and her heady perfume was intoxicating and exotic. She eased into her seat. Below the hem of the jeans, her shapely ankles led to a simply delicious pair of feet, adorned with toe rings and enthroned in wedge cork toe post sandals.
They were perfectly proportioned a 5 ½ or 6, neither too thin nor too long. The tips of her toes formed a perfect curve, no toe too long or short, and her nails were painted a dark ruby colour, like the deep crimson of a belly dancers navel gem. One deliciously curved toe bore a discreet gold ring, and her left ankle was encircled by a delicate golden chain. She wore toe post, high cork wedge sandals which framed and emphasized the rich treasures within.
By now he had been looking for far too long, and she'd caught him at it. She didn't let on, though. Rather, she crossed her legs and let her left foot accidentally rest against his knee. Controlling himself, and unsuccessfully trying to mentally force down his erect member, he moved his knee away slightly.
When the bus next rounded an island though, her foot swayed back against him, and remained there. This time he knew it was deliberate, and he looked up at her shyly. She winked once, and then turned her attention to the bus window, all the while allowing the swaying of the vehicle to rub her foot against him.
Three stops before his destination, she rose to disembark. Almost unthinkingly, he rose to follow her. On the pavement, he half expected her to turn and speak to him, but she simply made on down the road, strutting atop those impossibly perfect feet. At a loss for what else to do he followed, trying desperately to come up with a winning opening line.
At the corner of the road she suddenly turned to face him. Well?
I ... erm..mm I stuttered , my childhood stutter always returned when nervous
She laughed. Not even a nice try. Let me set this out. You've been staring at my feet for the past half hour and trying not to bulge in your pants, right?"
He went bright red casting his eyes to the floor part in mawkish embarrassment, part Peeping Tom bewitched by her feet Yes! he blurted.
Again she laughed. Now listen hard, footboy, today is your lucky day. Follow me
Ten minutes later they were in the living room of her Bohemian apartment. She walked in, him trailing behind, and wordlessly she wriggled out of her tight ripped jeans and sat on her couch, stretching her legs out onto a footstool. He instinctively went to sit beside her, to put his arm around her or kiss her, but she pushed him away. None of that, it's my feet you want, remember? Now, how about undressing and showing me how badly you want them…eh?
He was naked in moments, his hard member jutting from his body. Was it seeking her out? He knelt by the footstool and began putting his skills to good use, easing her hot moist feet from her shoes then gently massaging her insteps, tracing the soft flesh in waves from ankles to toes, eliciting sighs and appreciative murmurs. Eventually he switched to butterfly touches along the tops of her feet with his long eyelashes, and complemented this by kissing gently along the tops of her toes.
He dipped his mouth onto her big toe, sucking it gently, and she giggled momentarily, before the tickling sensation faded an arousal took its place, By the time he began tracing his tongue along the canal formed under the curvature of her toes, she was moaning deeply breathing ragged. He tried to kiss his way upwards towards at her knees, put she pushed him away yet again.
Sit on the footstool, legs apart, hands behind your back, and face me she whispered.
What was there to do but comply? He sat, arms behind him, still rigid and pointing forwards like the wavering needle of a compass, begging for attention, freely dripping cold juice onto his thighs and her footstool. She raised one foot and traced it slowly, deliberately from his chin to his stomach, pausing to grasp his nipples between her big toe and second toe. She stopped again at his navel probing his deep dip with pointed toe, the sharp ruby nail scratching its root , he silently willed her to continue the journey south.
She waited long enough to seriously tease, and then traced her foot down to his stiffened manhood. Her other foot lifted to caress the opposite side of his rigidity, then she twisted slightly, and the soles of her feet came together, her arches snugly fitting around him.
Slowly, achingly slowly, her feet began to pump him. He groaned in amazement. Pushing himself harder, more deeply into her soft creamy soles slippery with is juice! The feeling was silky smooth, tight. Her feet were supple, and nimble, but not completely nimble, so he occasionally slipped from their grasp and softly moaned, denied his orgasm, as he retreated from the edge and her feet started their work again. After an age of torment, his moans finally turned to the long moans and with a deep, long, teeth-clenching grunt of satisfaction, he spurted hard as his back arched, up her ankles and calves, and all over those beautiful feet.
He sank to the floor in exhaustion and watched with amazement as she leaned forward and rubbed his issue into her skin. Finally, she bade him stand and addressed him in a soft voice. You may go now, but I will be on the same bus tomorrow………... I expect you there too……….. with red roses next time… she winked with her mischievous eyes and an devilish half smile played on her lips………………………..
What was it about women's feet? The high, graceful curve of her arches, rising in a high heeled shoe? The inviting plump roundness of her toes? The immaculately applied and pedicured, or grubby bohemian chipped nail polish? The subtle, heady scent? Her reaction to sensual caresses of lips on her feet? It was all of these things and more.
Eventually, he had met women who, it seemed, invariably appreciated his attention to their feet. He learned to kiss, to caress, to tongue bathe every inch of a woman's foot, sometimes tickling slightly, but usually relaxing her gently, preparing the way for some erotic tryst afterwards.
Nowadays, especially during summertime, a simple trip to the town shopping could provide him with mesmeric visions. Outrageously gorgeous women, with their killer curves hidden away (though often only barely), yet openly displaying the features he found most exciting. Not only did these women display their sexy feet, they adorned them beautifully. Polish, sexy shoes, toe rings, ankle bracelets, and the occasional tattoo - they all delighted him and he sometimes found himself bewitched, discreetly following a gorgeous pair of feet through the town, his rebellious member struggling to rise, seeding revolution in his oppressively tight pants.
Today, he was on the bus, on the way home from work. Most of the other passengers were regulars, and he knew them by face if not by name. At the third stop, though, a woman joined the vehicle and sat in the only vacant seat - immediately opposite him. She was forty or so, honey blonde ,though almost certainly not naturally so as a large block of purple nestled within the exotic punky nest of hair, she was pleasantly attractive with glittering mischievous eyes. She was dressed like an artist, in a diaphanous top which barely concealed the soft curves of her breasts and voluptuous belly, she wore faded bohemian jeans with ripped knees and a loose chain belt accentuating the seductive sway of her hips as she walked , she was entrancing , exhilarating and her heady perfume was intoxicating and exotic. She eased into her seat. Below the hem of the jeans, her shapely ankles led to a simply delicious pair of feet, adorned with toe rings and enthroned in wedge cork toe post sandals.
They were perfectly proportioned a 5 ½ or 6, neither too thin nor too long. The tips of her toes formed a perfect curve, no toe too long or short, and her nails were painted a dark ruby colour, like the deep crimson of a belly dancers navel gem. One deliciously curved toe bore a discreet gold ring, and her left ankle was encircled by a delicate golden chain. She wore toe post, high cork wedge sandals which framed and emphasized the rich treasures within.
By now he had been looking for far too long, and she'd caught him at it. She didn't let on, though. Rather, she crossed her legs and let her left foot accidentally rest against his knee. Controlling himself, and unsuccessfully trying to mentally force down his erect member, he moved his knee away slightly.
When the bus next rounded an island though, her foot swayed back against him, and remained there. This time he knew it was deliberate, and he looked up at her shyly. She winked once, and then turned her attention to the bus window, all the while allowing the swaying of the vehicle to rub her foot against him.
Three stops before his destination, she rose to disembark. Almost unthinkingly, he rose to follow her. On the pavement, he half expected her to turn and speak to him, but she simply made on down the road, strutting atop those impossibly perfect feet. At a loss for what else to do he followed, trying desperately to come up with a winning opening line.
At the corner of the road she suddenly turned to face him. Well?
I ... erm..mm I stuttered , my childhood stutter always returned when nervous
She laughed. Not even a nice try. Let me set this out. You've been staring at my feet for the past half hour and trying not to bulge in your pants, right?"
He went bright red casting his eyes to the floor part in mawkish embarrassment, part Peeping Tom bewitched by her feet Yes! he blurted.
Again she laughed. Now listen hard, footboy, today is your lucky day. Follow me
Ten minutes later they were in the living room of her Bohemian apartment. She walked in, him trailing behind, and wordlessly she wriggled out of her tight ripped jeans and sat on her couch, stretching her legs out onto a footstool. He instinctively went to sit beside her, to put his arm around her or kiss her, but she pushed him away. None of that, it's my feet you want, remember? Now, how about undressing and showing me how badly you want them…eh?
He was naked in moments, his hard member jutting from his body. Was it seeking her out? He knelt by the footstool and began putting his skills to good use, easing her hot moist feet from her shoes then gently massaging her insteps, tracing the soft flesh in waves from ankles to toes, eliciting sighs and appreciative murmurs. Eventually he switched to butterfly touches along the tops of her feet with his long eyelashes, and complemented this by kissing gently along the tops of her toes.
He dipped his mouth onto her big toe, sucking it gently, and she giggled momentarily, before the tickling sensation faded an arousal took its place, By the time he began tracing his tongue along the canal formed under the curvature of her toes, she was moaning deeply breathing ragged. He tried to kiss his way upwards towards at her knees, put she pushed him away yet again.
Sit on the footstool, legs apart, hands behind your back, and face me she whispered.
What was there to do but comply? He sat, arms behind him, still rigid and pointing forwards like the wavering needle of a compass, begging for attention, freely dripping cold juice onto his thighs and her footstool. She raised one foot and traced it slowly, deliberately from his chin to his stomach, pausing to grasp his nipples between her big toe and second toe. She stopped again at his navel probing his deep dip with pointed toe, the sharp ruby nail scratching its root , he silently willed her to continue the journey south.
She waited long enough to seriously tease, and then traced her foot down to his stiffened manhood. Her other foot lifted to caress the opposite side of his rigidity, then she twisted slightly, and the soles of her feet came together, her arches snugly fitting around him.
Slowly, achingly slowly, her feet began to pump him. He groaned in amazement. Pushing himself harder, more deeply into her soft creamy soles slippery with is juice! The feeling was silky smooth, tight. Her feet were supple, and nimble, but not completely nimble, so he occasionally slipped from their grasp and softly moaned, denied his orgasm, as he retreated from the edge and her feet started their work again. After an age of torment, his moans finally turned to the long moans and with a deep, long, teeth-clenching grunt of satisfaction, he spurted hard as his back arched, up her ankles and calves, and all over those beautiful feet.
He sank to the floor in exhaustion and watched with amazement as she leaned forward and rubbed his issue into her skin. Finally, she bade him stand and addressed him in a soft voice. You may go now, but I will be on the same bus tomorrow………... I expect you there too……….. with red roses next time… she winked with her mischievous eyes and an devilish half smile played on her lips………………………..