Shes the One - Tara Tainton

She’s the One

Written by Tara Tainton

Saturday, 25 April 2009 20:36

Living with a foot fetish isn’t easy. Gorgeous feet are everywhere. If they’re not bare, they’re set upon sculpted shoes of endless variety, as on their individual pedestals awaiting the worship they so highly deserve.

They’re crossed over each other beneath office desks or resting snuggled beneath a lovely woman’s behind as she’s nestled in a comfy chair while reading a book. They’re molding the wet sand of the beach beneath them or tickling themselves on the blades of grass in the city park. And the more women adorn them with care, the more I admire them myself. I notice every painted toenail, heel smoothed by a pumice stone, and ankle exhibiting a dainty anklet with a single hanging jewel.

I can’t get enough. And neither have the women in my life. Not enough of what they want: a “normal” man who gets a hard-on with a glimpse of blonde locks or ejaculates at the sight of prominent cleavage. That’s just not me. I adore women, but it’s those feminine feet that get me going.

And Claire’s the first to realize who I really am. And how my fetish can contribute to an exquisite sex life. I met her in a shoe store, no less. She has a thing for shoes, real appreciation for them actually. She has the largest collection of heels I’ve ever seen in my life. No matter how long I stuck with the story that I was in the women’s section of the shop to select something for my nonexistent girlfriend, Claire saw right through me. Something beautiful was created from that first encounter, and we’ve had a mutually supportive relationship and special respect for each other ever since.

When we can find the time in our workday schedules, we like to meet up in a hotel room downtown for a lunch-hour quickie. In that casual and sometimes impromptu atmosphere, our most creative sexual selves come out to play. Sometimes we’re strangers meeting for a one-afternoon stand after spotting each other on the subway. Or Claire is a high-priced call girl who manages to teach me new tricks while granting me every service I’m willing to pay for. I can’t ask for more from a lover, but I’m always hoping for more foot play. And Claire managed to knock my own socks off last week.

I was waiting alone in the hotel room, still fully dressed in the usual suit and tie and eagerly anticipating our usual rendezvous. When I heard Claire’s key in the door, I didn’t budge from the bed. I waited to see which character she’d be playing this time. When I first saw the severely pointed toe of a new pair of black satin heels step through the doorway, I knew I was in for a real surprise.

I tried to sit up and greet my girlfriend, but she signaled me to remain seated at the end of the bed and stood before me in silence. I took in the leggy sight of her, all 71 inches. A crisp, white skirt suit clung to her slender body and olive skin, baring her legs from mid-thigh to ankle. My vision slid down her tan legs to those new shoes: stilettos, the epitome of a foot fetishist’s fantasies. Claire’s were heeled with just a sliver of polished stainless steel, propping her up another five inches. I was in love.

She lifted one knee and rested one stiletto on my thigh for closer examination. That dangerously pointed heel of steel was so near my crotch that I was… Well, excited.

My dick perked up as Claire balanced on one of those remarkable shoes while running the toe of the other in circles around my crotch. Her perfect ankle didn’t look fragile to me anymore. I watched the soft tint of the veins just under the skin reveal her foot’s strength. That foot had real purpose, and I watched as the stiletto slid right off of it and fell to the floor.

Claire’s bare foot remained on my lap and then traveled up my chest to give me a gentle shove backwards. I was suddenly lying on my back with my legs still hanging off the foot of the bed, and Claire was pulling the desk chair towards me. She left it at the end of the bed, just a couple feet away, and sat herself in it with legs crossed at the knee. I quickly propped the bed pillows beneath my head for a better view of her lovely self.

“Do you like my new shoes?” she asked.

“Mmmm-hmmm,” I answered with a nod and lascivious grin. “I love that naked foot of yours even more.”

Claire returned a confident smile and lifted her leg once again, pointing her foot towards me. This time, she wasn’t coy. She separated her legs in promiscuous fashion, providing me with an explicit view. I could just glimpse white lace pressed tightly between her legs. My dick grew even more stiff.

I barely detected a giggle as it escaped from Claire’s lips. She was beaming. Her eyes sparkled with the pleasure of pleasing me. She knew what she was doing; she had it all planned out.

“Relax, darling,” she whispered. I did.

Her bare foot rested on my lap again, warming my crotch and brushing up against my hard dick. She caressed me through my dark slacks, played with the tent in my pants, and tweaked me with her shapely toes. I was in heaven.

I was disappointed when her foot left my lap but delighted when she bent over to unfasten my belt and pants instead. Then she sat back in her stiff chair again and sprung my dick free with the clever maneuvering of her foot. The cool air was a rush contradicted by the heat radiating from her sole. She curled her toes around me and stroked my shaft with her soft foot. Soon, a second foot was bared and joined in the grasp, encircling my dick in full.

The silken skin of the bottoms of her feet slid easily up and down. I’d dreamt of this scenario, imagined coming by merely the touch of feminine feet against my erection. Claire’s inner thigh muscles strained against the weight and movement of her long legs while I noticed the wetness between her legs making her white panties increasingly transparent and revealing her cleanly shaven lips. She kept up the rapid pace, maintained the rhythm just as she had many times before with her hands or pelvis. My balls were tightening—I was about to come.

Suddenly, she lifted her feet, planted them firmly on the floor again and reached for something on the carpet. I didn’t know whether to finish the job with my hand or suffer the wait to see what Claire was up to. When her dark-haired head rose again, she revealed one of her new satin shoes in her hand.

“I want you to come in my shoe.” Okay, that got my attention. “I want you to christen my new stilettos.”

Claire’s wish was my command. She positioned the single shoe on my thigh, leaving that threatening heel scratching delightfully against my slacks. With a few quick strokes of her skilled hand, I was rock hard again. Claire stuffed her shoe between my thighs and returned to her newest enticing technique.

With a great stream of milky fluid, I came while my dick was nestled between her tender feet and tugged to a forceful climax. Just enough of my come landed inside the black satin stiletto and attempted to run down into the pointed toe. I was surprised by how pleased I felt with myself, like a dog marking his territory.

I wanted to please Claire in return, taste the sweetness of her sweaty crevice, but she had other intentions. “I want to keep myself waiting, keep this moment in my mind all day.” Our time was up, lunch hour over.

We chatted about our mornings while readjusting our clothing to hide the evidence of our private meeting from our coworkers and keep the delicious moment all to ourselves. Claire finished up first and rushed toward the door after a lusty goodbye kiss. As I watched her sensual body float through the doorway, I admired those unforgettable stilettos again. Just then, I remembered what I’d left planted in them. I hadn’t notice Claire taking the time to clean up my little deposit.

As my girlfriend escaped and pulled the door closed behind her, she left just one sentence hanging in the air. “It feels wonderful between my toes.”

That’s when I realized this is the one I’m going to marry.