Back 17 years ago, in middle school, I had been on
our championship-winning swim team. It was in there that I
first became aware of my fetish.
Our school was poor. They couldn’t afford separate
changing rooms for the swimmers, so we all had to change in
the girl’s bathroom. There weren’t many boys on the team,
so it didn’t matter much. Anyway, being the horny young
teen that I was, I naturally tried to sneak as many peaks
of my female teammates as possible. They were wary of me,
of course, and usually changed in the stalls. This is where
my fetish bloomed, I think. You see, I was still able to
see the girl’s feet. I soon gave up trying to snatch a
glance of a breast, ass, or vagina.
I’ve seen thousands of bare female feet since then
and to this day, I can truthfully say that the girls on my
swim team had the most beautiful feet I’d ever seen. When I
would masturbate, I wouldn’t think about a fucking the
brains out of the latest blonde bombshell, or getting a
blowjob from the head cheerleader, I would think about
those beautiful feet.
I’ve only experienced my ultimate fantasy, a footjob,
five times. None were as satisfying as they were in my
dreams. It’s hard convincing women to do it, and when they
finally do it, it’s a half-hearted attempt. “Come on, I’ll
just suck you off, baby,” they would say. Not once have
they let me come on their feet. It seemed that the women
with the worst feet were always the most enthusiastic about
it.
—–
One girl, Cindy, had the best feet I had seen in
years, second only to the girls on the swim team. I begged
her to do it. She refused, saying it was “unclean.” Yeah,
but she had no problem with anal. Anyway, I was determined
to fuck those wonderful feet. I woke up before her one
morning, quietly got the baby oil from the bedside drawer,
and slowly lubed her feet. She stirred; I paused, then
lubed some more. When her feet were shining with oil, I
grabbed her ankles and pressed her soles together on my
throbbing cock (an impressive 8 inches erect, if I do say
so myself.) I masturbated myself with her beautiful soft
feet. I was in heaven.
She murmured slightly, and her eyes opened. Her face
expressed pure hatred. She kicked her feet free of my grasp
and drove her left heel right into my balls. I toppled to
the floor. Without at word, she cleaned the oil from her
feet and got dressed, putting on her high heels. She
reached a sympathetic hand down, helped my back up. Then
she nailed me right in the nuts again, and spit on the
ground next to me. I can still feel that one. Anyway, I was
*this* close to coming. I don’t count that as one of the
five.
—–
When she came by later, to pick up her things, she
wore flip-flops. She wiggled her cute little red-painted
toes, just to taunt me.
—–
I didn’t bother going to college. I knew at the end
of high school that I would be a lifeguard. I got my first
job when I was 19, and I was in my late twenties when I
became the head lifeguard out on Makinio Beach. The pay
wasn’t much but I helped people, which was more rewarding
in a way. Plus, there are plenty of beautiful feet to look
at. There’s a lot of down time.
—–
I dated a few of my fellow lifeguards. The last one,
Kelly, had bigger tits than anything you’d see on
“Baywatch.” That didn’t interest me much, of course. She
gave me my most recent footjob. I managed to convince her
on our second time in bed. We broke up soon after. She quit
her job as a lifeguard, too. She was in last month’s
“Penthouse.” Her feet were cropped out of every picture.
—–
Anyway, the most significant event of all my
experiences as a lifeguard, of my life even, happened when
I was 28. It was a hot summer, I remember, and the beach
was packed.
It was near the end of my shift. I fidgeted in my
seat, checked my watch, fidgeted some more. Suddenly, a fat
woman in a red one-piece yelled, “My daughter is drowning!
Someone save my daughter!” Sure enough, there was young
girl, about twelve or thirteen I guessed, flapping her arms
like a baby bird, trying to stay afloat.
I jumped out of my chair and hit the ground running.
I blew my whistle and the swimmers cleared a way before me.
I felt like Moses. I dived in the water and swam as fast as
I could. I reached her in no time. She was unconscious when
I arrived. I lifted her small body through the whole in the
life preserver and pulled her ashore. People cheered. They
usually did. My job wasn’t done though.
I laid her down on the sand, out of the reach of the
tides. I pressed a finger to her wrist. She had a pulse. I
put an ear to her mouth. She wasn’t breathing. I started
doing mouth-to-mouth. Nothing. I pushed on her on her
chest, doing the oft-repeated motions of CPR. If I felt the
desire, I could have easily copped a feel of her budding
tit and no one would have been in a position to complain. I
would be lying if I said the idea hadn’t flashed through my
perverted mind. I started mouth-to-mouth again. She coughed
and I pulled my mouth away. She continued to cough,
spitting up a few ounces of seawater.
She slowly opened her eyes, then smiled. I grabbed
her hand and pulled her up. My hand around her shoulder, I
guided her back to her mother.
“Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you,” the
girl’s ugly mother squealed, “you saved my daughter’s
life.”
“Just doing my job,” I said. That’s was I always
said.
—–
The fat mother pulled her daughter up the hill to the
parking lot, yelling “what did I tell you about waiting
after you eat!?” The young girl turned around as she walked
away and smiled at me. It was only then that I noticed her
feet. I may be a pervert, but people’s lives come before my
fetishes.
Anyway, the moment I saw her feet I couldn’t look
away. They were perfect, better than the swim team by a
long shot. They were small, perfectly proportioned, pale
peach things. Her toes were painted a beautiful light blue,
my favorite color. I wouldn’t be surprised if God Himself
had crafted this angel’s feet. When she had walked too far
away, I looked down at the perfect footprint she left. I
sighed. I was in love with the feet, and by association,
the young girl attached to them.
—–
There is an interesting coincidence here that I would
be foolish to not discuss. I was in love with this girl,
for all intents and purposes, I was a pedophile. Now, in my
earlier, more naive years, I thought that pedophile meant
“foot-lover,” “ped” as in “millipede.” Thank goodness I was
too shy about my fetish back then to say anything.
Of course pedophile means “lover of children,” “ped”
as in “pediatrician.” But with this girl, this little angel
with perfect feet, it didn’t matter what meaning I used.
—–
I continued to stare at the heavenly prints in the
sand below me, until Jill, my second-in-command, walked up.
She was clapping. “Well handled, boss,” she giggled, her
big boobs bouncing in her skimpy top, her nipples poking
out obscenely, “I hate these kids who think they’re Olympic
swimmers. Anyway, it’s closing time. Wanna go get something
to drink?”
I looked around. The beach-goer were gathering their
things, preparing to leave. Jill stepped closer, getting
her boobs as close to me as possible. She’d been flirting
with me for months, but it never went anywhere. She had
terrible feet. “I’m tired,” I said to her, “I think I’ll
call it a night.” It was only 7:00 PM.
“Are you sure?” she asked. She pressed her boobs to my
chest. I had to admit it felt good.
For a moment, I wonder why I couldn’t just be normal.
Here was a girl who would do anything for me. I could fuck
her tits, fuck her cunt, fuck her ass, come on her face, in
her mouth, and she would beg for more. She would do
anything for me, except fulfill my fantasy.
I stood there, and I felt her rub her nipples across
my abs. “Maybe another time,” I said. She sighed and her
boobs jiggled. I gathered my things and left the beach.
Tomorrow was my day off.
—–
As soon as I got home, I jumped into bed and pulled
my cock out. I thought about the perfect feet I had seen
today and began to masturbate. I would have given anything
to seen her, and her feet, again. It occurred to me that I
quite possibly would.
Almost every person I had saved, too many to count
now, had come to my house to thank me. Some bring cards,
some bring food, most just say “thanks.”
Oh, and I remember now. One woman thanked me with
sex. Please excuse me, reader, while I digress from my
point to tell this anecdote. This story is too good to not
commit to print.
—–
I had been a lifeguard for about 5 months when it
happened. A bald, Italian, Sasquatch-looking man ran up to
me and said his “woman” was unconscious. He said that she
had been under the water for a good 3 minutes. He had
dragged her back to land.
I ran over to her as quick as I could. She looked to
be in her early forties. She was fairly attractive, a bit
chubby, and her feet were nice. She wore swimming glasses
and a vertically striped swimsuit. I noticed all this in a
split second as a knelt down before her and took her pulse.
It was strong. She wasn’t breathing though.
30 seconds of mouth-to-mouth and she began to cough.
She hacked and spit up almost a quart of seawater. She
opened her eyes and said, in a whiny voice, “my hero!”
“Just doing my job,” I said, pulling her to her feet.
The hairy man grabbed her by the wrist and dragged
her away, saying “You always do this to me, Audrey, you
always embarrass me. This is why we don’t go out anymore.”
She turned around and smiled widely at me. Her teeth were
artificially white.

The next day was a Sunday, my day off. The doorbell
rang while I was eating lunch. I opened it. Before I said
anything, Audrey stepped into my house.
She wore a flowery dress and tennis shoes. She took
at seat at my kitchen table. She didn’t say anything for a
while; she just looked around. After a long pause, she
squealed, “nice place you got here!”
“Is there something I can do for you?” I asked.
“Of course, of course. I came by to thank you.” She
paused, and then added, “personally.”
“Mrs. Um, Mrs…”
“You can call me Audrey.”
“Audrey, um, as I said I was just doing my job.”
“Yes! Of course!” she said. I don’t think she was
listening to me. “Listen,” she whined, “where I come from,
it’s customary that if a man saves a woman’s life, then
that woman owes the man a, um, favor.”
I was tempted to ask where it was that she came from.
She looked like she was part Greek, part Chinese, part
Eskimo.
“So, what’ll it be, big guy?” she asked.
“Excuse me.”
“Here, sit down.” She pulled out a chair for me. I
sat. “How ’bout this, big guy?” she said. She grabbed the
hem of her dress and lifted it up. She wore nothing
underneath. She pulled the dress over her head and let it
fall to the floor.
Her tits were pretty big, as were her nipples. They
sagged a little. Her pubic hair was neatly trimmed.
“So what’ll it be?” she repeated. She stepped very
close to me and began to rub her tits. “You want my pussy,
or my ass?” She did a 360 to illustrate that, yes, she had
a pussy and ass.
“That really won’t be necessary,” I stammered.
“Nonsense. Wait! I know what you want!” She didn’t,
of course. “You want me to go down on you!”
“Um,” I said.
I decided that letting go was easier than fighting.
Besides, I might end up enjoying it. She unzipped my pants
and fished out my cock.
“My! We are well endowed, aren’t we?” she squealed.
She grasped my shaft at the base with her right hand,
clutched my balls with her left. She smiled up at me with
those bleached teeth, then lowered her lips to the head of
my dick. She stared up at me as she did it.
She pursed her lips and kissed the crown. Her tongue
teased the hole. She slurped up and down the shaft
moistening it with her saliva. Her head descended lower and
took one of my balls in her mouth, swirling it around with
her tongue.
She lifted her head again, opened her mouth as wide
as she could, and took the head inside her wet opening. Her
head lowered again, and I felt my dick slip effortlessly
down her throat. Her head lifted, then lowered, the lifted
again. She continued to bob her head, to hump my dick with
her lips, all the while licking and drooling all over my
meat.
I had to admit it felt good. I closed my eyes and let
my head fall back. I even put my hand on the back of her
head, letting her know I appreciated it.
Twice, she pulled my cock from her mouth, looked up
at me and squealed, “everything good?” She sounded like a
waitress at a trashy diner. I responded with a slow nod.
She pulled my penis from her lips a third time. She
began to ask me again, but before she pronounced the second
syllable I pushed her head back down to my crotch. I
couldn’t help it. She didn’t seem to mind.
After a few minutes, I moaned that I was about to
come. She lifted her head, keeping the head in her mouth,
and began to jerk me off. She opened her lips wide so that
I could see myself ejaculate. I didn’t care too much about
that.
I moaned loudly. The corners of her mouth curled up
in a smile. I came hard, and her mouth filled quickly. She
held my semen in her mouth, not swallowing, until I had
finished. My come stream subsided and my cock began to
soften.
She looked straight at me, winked, and closed her
lips. With a tremendous gulp, she swallowed my seed. It
looked like her eyes were watering. She paused, and
suddenly she grasped at her throat. She moaned, her eyes
widening, then she fainted.
My lifeguard instincts kicked in immediately. I
crouched down before her, did the usual checks. Pulse, ok,
breathing, negative. I pressed my lips to hers and began
mouth to mouth. After a few seconds, I remembered that she
had choked on my come. I slowed down my treatment, not
wishing to tasting my own seed.
I cough came from deep with in her throat. I propped
her up and leaned her against the wall. She hacked and spit
up almost a tablespoon of semen. It oozed out her mouth and
ran down her chin. Her eyes flicked open and she stared at
me.
“My, what thick sperm you have!” she said,
nonchalantly, trying to sound like a porn star. She sounded
more like my mother.
I handed her a napkin and she wiped my come from her
chin.
“That the second time you saved my life,” she said.
“How about just a hand job this time?” She quickly grasped
my limp dick and started to stroke it like it was a wounded
mouse.
I pried her fingers from my shaft and said, “That’ll
be quite alright, Mrs. Um. Audrey. You’ve done enough.”
“But my culture dictates…”
“Yeah, well, you can just bake me some brownies or
something.”
I reached and hand down and lifted her to her feet. I
handed her dress to her. She let it fall back over her
naked body.
It was nice but I was thankful it was over.
Suddenly, a loud car horn honked outside my door.
“That must be Harvey,” Audrey exclaimed, running to
the door. I followed her. Outside was the man from the
beach, leaning against a red Cadillac.
“You done?” he asked Audrey.
“Yeah.”
“What did you guys do?”
“Well, Harvey, I gave him the oral sex.”
“Ha!” he said, now looking at me, “you missed out
man. Audrey here ain’t much, but she’s got one sew-eeet
pussy! You a homo or something?” He lifted her dress and
pointed it out to me.
“Harvey! Stop!” Audrey giggled and fixed her dress.
“A blowjob! Jeez! Ha! All the more pussy for me
then!”
I suspect that if I had asked Audrey for a footjob,
Harvey would have beaten the crap out of me.
“Hurry up, Audrey! We got reservations at Giorgio’s
at 2.”
“Okay, Harvey!” She jumped into the passenger seat.
“Thanks for everything!”
“…and after dinner Audrey…after dinner I am gonna
fuck you so hard!”
“Oh Harvey!” She snuggled up against him, kissed him
on the cheek.
“See ya later, homo!” He drove off.
—–
I was in no way expecting anything like that to
happen with the young girl from the beach. She might be
over tomorrow, but only to bring me brownies or a card or
something. Her mom would probably be with her.
—–
I went to sleep rubbing my cock, thinking about those
young feet.
—–
I woke up to the sound of the doorbell ringing. I
checked the clock. It was 11.
I put on a robe and walked to the door. I opened it.
There she was, the girl of my dreams.
Her face was made up; she wore dark lipstick and
blush. I scanned down her body, hoping she would notice.
She wore a tight white tank top, which accentuated her
budding breasts. I think her nipples poked out a little.
Her top stopped well before her skirt, exposing her
wonderful light peach midriff. Her skirt stopped well
before her knees and her creamy white legs seemed to go on
for miles.
Finally, I came to her feet. She wore flips-flops, oh
God, she wore flip-flops. Her toes were painted the same
light blue as before.
I stood there dumbfounded, just staring at her feet.
“Hello,” she said, grabbing my attention. “Remember
me?”
“Of course,” I managed to sputter out.
“From the beach, you saved my life. Anyway. I brought
you some cookies.” She held up a plate of chocolate chip
cookies. I had somehow missed them in my scan of her body.
Now was my chance, I thought. I coughed and muttered,
“you wanna, um, come in and have some with me?”
She looked around the inside of my house. She took
one step inside and said, “sure!”
She kicked off her flip-flops, oh God, she kicked off
her flips-flops. She walked towards the kitchen. Her bare
feet produced the cutest little sounds on my tile floor. I
walked behind her in a trance.
She placed the plate on the table, and sat down. She
put her feet up on the table too. I almost came right there
and then.
“Um. I’ll get some…uh…milk.”
I poured milk into two big glasses. I looked back at
her, and spilled some milk on myself. Good thing my robe
was white. I took the glasses over to the table and sat
down across from her. She grabbed one, and crammed a few
cookies in her mouth. I took one cookie and nibbled it. I
didn’t really need the cookies. Her feet were enough.
She finished the last of her milk in one big gulp,
then she looked right at me. “I walked all the way here
myself,” she said.
“Um,” I said.
“It was a long walk.”
“Um.”
“My feet ache.”
My penis bulged against my boxer shorts. I thought,
“I wonder where this is going.” All I said was, “Um.”
“Could you give me a foot massage?”
I felt the precome soak my underpants. I stuttered
like a fool, but managed to blurt out “sure.”
She dragged her chair out so that it was right in
front of me. She kicked her legs up, and her heels landed
inches from by crotch.
I reached out slowly, scared that if I touched her,
she might disappear. My fingertips grazed her soles and she
giggled. I sighed, and grabbed her left foot with both
hands.
The muscles were very tight. I rubbed her aches away
with my thumbs. She groaned a very sexy groan, and moaned,
“That feels good.”
I continued to caress her foot. Suddenly she giggled
and pulled her foot from my grasp. She lifted her leg and
pressed her big toes to my lips. Her foot smelled like
strawberries. I looked at her. She smiled and nodded.
I opened my mouth and took her big toe inside. I
sucked and nibbled away at it. I grabbed her foot again,
released her toe. I lifted her foot and kissed her heel,
then licked my way back up to her toes. I sucked on each
one for a few seconds.
I looked up. I could see right up her skirt. Her
panties were soaked. I looked at the girl. She was smiling
widely and her eyes were closed. Her head lolled around.
She looked like she was enjoying it.
Suddenly, she opened her eyes.
“Stand up,” she commanded.
I stood.
With amazing dexterity, she untied the belt of my
robe with her toes. She lifted her feet and pushed the robe
off my shoulders. It fell to the floor. I was so anxious
that I couldn’t breath.
She took the elastic of my boxers between her big
toes and pulled down. My cock sprang free. It glistened
with precome. She gasped.
She composed herself, then brought her left foot up
to my face. “Spit,” she said. I spat on her sole. She
rubbed her soles together getting them nice and wet.
I moaned as I first felt her toes on my shaft. She
started out by pressing her soles together around my cock
in the usual position for a footjob. She moved her feet up
and down, masturbating me with her feet. She giggled and
removed her feet. I exhaled for the first time in minutes.
With her right foot, she pressed my cock against my
stomach. She moved it up and down. With her left foot, she
tenderly caressed my balls. Her soft digits rubbed my sac.
She ran her small, supple toes through my pubic hair.
It seemed like her ministrations went on for hours
and at the same time, was over in an instant.
I felt my balls swell. An orgasm overtook me. It was
the best orgasm I had ever had. I moaned loudly. The girl
put her left foot in front of my dick-hole and continues to
caress my cock.
I came harder than I ever came before. My jizz
splashed against her sole and ran down her heel. She moved
her foot down so that the next shot landed on her sweet
toes. My cock started to soften, but the come still came.
My orgasm subsided.
I looked at her foot. Every inch of it was covered
with my seed. She saw this too. All she said was, “wow.”
She grabbed her ankle and lifted her foot to her
mouth. I watch silently for five minutes as she licked my
hot sperm from her foot. She stuck each toes in her mouth,
sucked the come away. When she was done, she smacked her
lips and smiled at me. My cock was hard again.
She walked towards the door, put her flip-flops back
on and smiled at me. “You should save my life again
sometime,” she said. Then she left. I sighed.
—–
Then I woke up.
—–
My cock had come loose from my boxers. It was
standing at attention. It glistened with precome. I began
to stroke myself thinking about that wonderful dream. I
suddenly realized that my dream was a perfect reenacting of
a porn movie I own, Fabulous Foot Fucks: Volume 1.
—–
The story behind this tape is interesting. I hadn’t
bought it myself. I’m too shy to buy porn. Cindy, the girl
whose feet I raped, sent it to me a few months after we
broke up, on my birthday. It came with a note, which said:

Happy Birthday,
Cindy XOXOXOXOX
P.S. No hard feelings.

She sent me the rest of the collection by and by. One
a birthday, for five years. They were in a shoebox under my
bed.
—–
The doorbell rang. I put on my robe. I opened the
door, and who should it be but the little girl of my
dreams. Everything was different now, though. First, it was
raining outside. She was wearing a raincoat, baggy jeans,
and rubber boots, two sizes to big. Her bicycle was propped
up against my mailbox. I gathered that she hadn’t walked.
It was never the same as it was in my dreams.
Never.
“Hello,” she said. She seemed nervous. She held up a
plastic bag. “I brought you a gift. To thank you. For
saving me.”
“Let me guess. Chocolate-chip cookies?”
“Peanut butter.” Never the same. “You must get these
kinda things a lot.”
I nodded, the said, “would you like to come in and
have some?” I expected her to say no.
“Okay.”
Maybe, just maybe things would turn out different, I
thought.
She walked inside, making no attempt to remove her
muddy boots. She left dirty footprints on my kitchen floor.
She sat at the table. I pour two glasses of milk.
We dined on cookies. They were very good, just like
mom used to make. I watched her closely as she ate. She
drank the last of her milk and put the glass down. She had
a milk mustache.
“You got a little, um…” I pointed at her face.
“Oh,” she said. She licked her lips with a small,
pink tongue. I thought dully that she might give me a nice
blowjob in lieu of what I really wanted.
She placed her glass in the sink, then walked over to
me. I inhaled and held my breath. She leaned down and
kissed me on the cheek. I came in my boxers. “Thanks,” she
murmured.
She left without another word.
—–
I ate lunch, then pulled a shoebox out from under my
bed. I took out Fabulous Foot Fucks: Volume 1 and popped it
into the VCR. I fast-forwarded through the opening
dialogue, stopping when the man, a fat ugly man, started to
lick the beautiful girl’s feet. She looked about nineteen
and was heavily made-up.
I stroked myself, and stroked myself some more. Try
as I might, my penis would stiffen. In fact, I didn’t feel
horny at all. I felt empty. I press the stop button right
as the man was about to come.
—–
You might be wondering about my own feet. Well, I
think they’re fine, a little hairy perhaps.
When I was just starting out as a lifeguard I started
going out with Cheryl. One our first date, the conversation
somehow turned toward fetishes. I was a little drunk and
blurted out that I loved women’s feet. She gasped and told
me that she had a foot fetish too. We showed each other our
bare feet right there in the restaurant. She said mine
were, and this is a direct quote now, “the epitome of male
feet.”
We had sex that very night. Well, not sex in any
conventional manner. We had foot sex. We rubbed feet,
licked feet, sucked toes. She caressed my shaft with her
soles. I stuck one big toe inside her pussy; I rubbed her
clit with the other. We had simultaneous orgasms.
We got engaged only a week later. We had sex every
night.
One day, I came back from work and she had left me a
note. It said that she was sorry but that she had found
someone new.
—–
I was invited to her wedding a few months later. It
was on a farm in Michigan. The groom was a short, fat
Samoan man. They both wore sandals, even though it was
twenty degrees outside. I didn’t get a good look at his
feet.
—–
I went to work the next day. It was almost empty.
Summer was ending. I think I may have even dozed off a few
times.
With half an hour left in my shift, I put up the “No
lifeguard on duty. Swim at your own risk” sign and left for
the lifeguard house.
Jill was there. Just the girl I wanted to see. She
had just showered. She was wrapped in a towel. She looked
beautiful.
“Jill, would you like to have dinner with me
tonight?”
She smiled the biggest smile I had ever seen in my
life. I think her eyes may even have been watering. She
composed herself.
“Yeah,” she said, trying to be nonchalant, “sure.”
“Great. I’ll pick you up at seven.”
—–
I pulled around the corner and there she was. She
wore the lowest cut dress I had ever seen. Her cleavage was
tremendous. Jill was not a subtle woman.
We went to dinner. We talked, but I don’t remember
what about. She drank glass after glass of wine. I drank
water. She was very tipsy by the end of the meal.
“Do you know,” she said, touching a finger to my
nose,” that I’ve always had the biggest crush on you?”
“I had an inkling.”
She giggled. “Let’s go back to my place.” She smiled.
I paid the bill and guided Jill to the car. She
kissed my neck all the way home.
I will not go into the details of that night. This
story is getting pretty long. Besides, the sex was the best
kind: boring to hear about, extremely fulfilling for those
involved. Suffice it to say we kissed for a while, I
inserted my penis into her vagina, we made love in the
missionary position. Bush league stuff, very boring to
read. It was, however, the best sex I ever had. Her vagina
had been felt warm, had felt soft, had felt moist, but most
of all, it felt *right*.
—–
We lay in her bed, post-coitus. My left arm was
around her shoulder. I slowly caressed her breast with my
left hand.
“That,” Jill whispered very loudly, “was the best sex
I ever had.”
I nodded in agreement.
We lay there for a while. I felt her hand on mine.
Then she spoke up.
“Do you know what the first thing I noticed when I
met you for the first time?”
“No.”
“Your hands.”
“Um.”
“Your hands…are perfect.”
“Um.”
She unwrapped my arm from her shoulder, grasped my
left hand in hers. She held both our hands up, pressed the
palms together. Hers were three-fourths the size of mine.
Without another word she began to lick my fingers, to suck
and nibble on my digits. It felt nice. She licked my hand
all over.
She held my index finger tightly and slid the tip
down her body. She touched each of her nipples with my
finger, touched her flat stomach. She poked it into her
belly button. Finally, she brought my hand down to the
dripping wetness between her legs.
“Please touch me,” she whispered.
I touched her.
“It’s always been my fetish,” she whispered.
—–
Epilogue:
Jill and I got married a few months later. I quit my
job as head lifeguard. Jill took over. I’m studying to be a
paramedic. On Jill’s advice I’ve done some work as a hand
model. I earn more than I did as a lifeguard many times
over.
We’ve been married for two years. We still have an
active sex life, a *very* active sex life. We do it almost
every night. I’ve gotten so good at touching her that I can
make her orgasm by rubbing her anywhere. I kid you not. In
all two years of our marriage, I think I’ve only penetrated
her a dozen times.
We made love no less than half an hour ago. Jill went
down on me. She gives *great* head. I simply rubbed the
back of her neck. She came first and her moans and coos
brought me off quickly.
As I write this she sleeps beside me, her tremendous
breasts pressed against my side. She snores like a kitten.
God love her, she’s given me an erection. I don’t want to
wake her. I grab her wrist and wrap her limp fingers around
my shaft. I masturbate myself with her hand. She stirs and
walks.
“Sorry, honey.”
“Don’t worry about it. Oh, what have we here?” I
remove my hand. She brings me off all by herself, and it
feels wonderful. She gathers my come in her hand, licks it
up, and giggles.
“How’s the story coming?” she asks.
“I think I’m almost done,” I say.
She puts her hand on my chest, rubs my pecks. She
yawns. Her eyes drift shut, and she falls asleep again.
I think I’m almost done with this story. I think this
is the last paragraph. As my eyes slowly close I look down
at the end of the bed. Jill’s ugly feet stick out. Her toes
are painted an especially unpleasant shade of purple. But I
don’t care anymore.

THE END

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