Foot Job

You lie back in the chaise, naked. I sit on a stool at your feet, naked, my legs spread slightly, my feet on the sun-warmed stone of the patio. I coat my hands with fragrant oil and begin to massage your feet gently, then firmly, one after the other, setting your heel lightly on my leg, giving each foot my full, loving attention. You love to have your feet rubbed, and I love to do it – for how it makes you feel, as I can feel your body relax and settle back even deeper into the chaise, but also for how it makes me feel. I am turned on by the feel of your feet, the firm muscle and bone, the soft toes, the beautifully painted nails. I press my thumbs into the arch of your foot, circling and massaging your heel, gliding my hands smoothly up your calf. I hold your heel in one hand and caress with the other; as I hold your leg, your beaded ankle bracelet dangles. I trace my fingers along your foot to caress each pearl-like toe between my thumb and forefinger, pausing to touch and admire your antique silver toe ring. I love that you recognize the beauty of your feet, that you call attention to them, that you show them off, that you see them as part of your beauty.

I slide closer to you, pressing the soles of your feet into the hair of my chest; you respond with gentle massaging motions as I hold your feet to my chest. It feels so good. I glide your feet up and down, using them to massage my torso. You wiggle a little as the hair tickles. I raise them to my shoulders, then press them gently to each side of my face. They are soft, warm, moist and fragrant – a mixture of you, and the oil, and me. I bring your feet together, closing my eyes and gliding them slowly down my forehead, face, neck. I am getting more excited; my breathing is heavier, rougher; I feel my penis stretch out against the warm wood of the bench. I bring your feet to my forehead again, again gliding them downward, but this time licking each one; you pull away a little at first, but as you get used to the licks and as they get deeper and stronger, you ease into them, relaxing. My tongue circles your heels, outlines each sole, massages, caresses. I take each toe into my mouth, sucking gently, swirling my tongue around each, reveling in the taste and feel. I hear you moan a little, twist your body a little; I see you reach for your breast to caress, to play with a nipple.

I  play some more, then you take control, drawing your feet back, resting your heels on the edge of the chaise, looking up at me and smiling behind your shades. You reach for the oil and pour it over my penis, then over your own feet, massaging it in. You put your hands on the chaise behind you for support; I respond, shifting forward to the edge of the bench, letting my penis and balls hang free. You rest your left foot on the edge of the bench, under my balls, gliding it back and forth against them, as you begin to caress my shaft with your right foot. You slide your right foot all around my cock, up and down, around, as you gently support my balls with the other. You playfully grip the head of my penis with your toes, then drag the beautifully painted nails down the shaft – a new sensation. My penis stiffens, rises, arches; your toes massage the base, between the balls and the shaft – another new sensation. I moan, catch my breath; my back arches, my muscles tighten. You move your left foot to press against my pubic bone, nestling it in the soft hair above my penis, massaging gently with your toes, as your right foot continues to play. But now you explore not only the shaft, the balls, but behind the balls, finding the perineum, first gently playing and stroking, then turning sideways and pressing the ball of your foot firmly against the area, massaging deeply as your left foot continues to press above my penis. So my stiffened shaft is suspended, not receiving any stimulation, but still feeling the pleasure coursing through it from what you’re doing – another new sensation.

Supporting yourself on one hand, you bring the other to your swollen, glistening labia, drawing your fingers slowly between your legs, pleasuring yourself as you pleasure me, and your breath becomes rougher, heavier. It seems like many moments – or that time has been suspended. But you eventually bring both feet to my shaft, pour more oil, and begin stroking in earnest, wanting me to come. Waves of pleasure move through my body as tension builds, then finally releases; the first pulse of my come reaches your chest, dripping down slowly; your feet and hands catch the rest, massaging it into my penis, milking the very last. You take your finger and find the come between your breasts, bring it to your lips, then share it with me in a deep kiss. I move off the bench, moving atop you embracing, caressing, kissing; I slide down your body, to my knees, burying my face between your legs. But that’s another part of the story…