By GeorgeH

Lisa became our group's new secretary last spring. She looked to be in her mid-30s, dark blond hair, tall and slightly heavy. When I first met her she was wearing a short, silk burgundy print dress that showed an ample portion of thigh, with very shear flesh-colored pantyhose, and high spiked heel pumps. Her legs were her most attractive asset. They were perfect, with slightly plump thighs, very shapely calves, that tapered to very slender ankles, that ended in sexy size 8 medium width feet. Her arches were high enough so that they always peek out from the side of the pumps. Every time she walked past me, I would get weak in the knees, and drooled over those lovely legs and feet. Her body was nice, though her hips were a bit wide for her body, and she had smallish breast, but nothing could compare to the loveliness of her feet and legs.

Her physical attractiveness was offset by her spoiled little bratty personality. She was the type who had known that she was cute since she was 3, and had used it to charm her way into getting anything she wanted. She loved being the center of attention. Because of this attitude, I did not particularly like her, but I thought that I could work with her OK.

One morning, she had asked me to help her order office supplies, because she was not familiar with the forms and procedures. I sat in a chair next to behind her desk and began explaining what she needed to do. She was wearing a short, dark blue tight skirt and a light blue sweater. She had on shear smoky pantyhose, with light blue pumps. With one leg crossed over the other, her foot dangled seductively before me, her shoe just coming off her foot enough to expose her lovely arch. The nylons were so shear, I could clearly see the skin texture of her foot through them, especially the wrinkles across her sole. As we worked together, my eyes kept returning to that sexy foot, caressed by those sexy blue pumps, her delicate, slender ankle, and firm, sculptured, calf. She unconsciously rotated her ankle causing the toe to trace little circles in the air. It was difficult to concentrate on work with that beautiful foot, dancing before my lusting eyes. After I finished explaining the process for ordering supplies, she smiled and thanked me. As I stood up to return to my office, she stopped me saying, "I have one more question." She beckoned for me to come closer, then whispered, "Why did you keep looking at my foot?" I became flush with embarrassment. I didn't think I was that obvious. As I attempted to feign ignorance to her question, she said, smiling coyly, "Never mind. That's OK." I returned to my office quickly, and sat there for a few minutes to recover from my embarrassment.

The following Monday she stopped in my office to bring me my mail. "Good morning, " she said in her usual perky tone. That day she was wearing a clinging, silk, emerald green dress with green suede pumps. Summer had started, and it was beginning to get warm, so she had opt to not wear hosiery that morning. This was the first time I had seen her without them. Her bare feet looked wonderful in the sexy green pumps. She stood in front of my office door leaning against the wall as we chatted about the weekend, and other small talk subjects. As she shifted her wait to one foot, the other one slipped partially out of the shoe, exposing her gracefully curved arch and most of her sexy toes, just hiding the tips. My eyes instinctively dropped to absorb this erotic vision before me, but I refocused on her face, almost immediately so as to not repeat the last week's uncomfortable episode. With her standing in my doorway, we continued out little chat for several minutes while the shifted her weight from one foot to the other, slipping the free foot in and out of its pump. Just before she left my office, she walked over to me, and said, "Really, what is this thing for feet that you have?" Smiling devilishly, she turned and left my office, not waiting for an answer. I was more curious than embarrassed this time. Yes, she had caught me looking at her feet again, but her tone was not one of anger or disgust, but of interest and curiosity. I thought about it for a minute or two, and then got involve in my work.

Later that afternoon, Lisa and I were scheduled to work on the monthly report, together. The boss was on vacation for a week so I was selected to do the month report for him in his absence. Lisa and I went to a small conference room, spread out the work over the round table, and began pulling together data for the report. I tried not to look at her feet, but have a weakness for bare feet in high heels, and hers looked so good in those emerald green pumps. When she would be focusing on a piece of paper work or writing some notes, I would steal a glimpse of the lovely feet. The tops of her feet looked so smooth and soft, that I wanted to rub my fingers over them. The toes of the shoes were cut such that they exposed a lot of toe cleavage, a real turn on for me. I imagined my tongue licking over the top of her feet, probing the cleavage between each toes, and licking into the gap between the side of the shoe and the arch of her foot. Avoiding the risk of being caught again, I only stole one or two second glances, but I mentally photographed every detail of her feet and pumps. After about an hour, Lisa leaned back in her chair and stretched as if to take a short break from the work we wee doing. She leaned over to me and whispered, "Are you going to tell me about your attraction to my feet?" I began perspiring from nervousness. "What do you mean?" I said evasively. "You always watch my feet," she said just above a whisper. "I am just curious about what you like about them." She looked at me with the feigned innocent little girl look that I know has worked for her many times. "Aren't you going to tell me?" she said as she raised her leg straight out in front of her, with her pump dangling from the tips of her toes. I started becoming aroused just by looking at her gorgeous almost-bare foot, suspended in mid air inches from my knee. I could reach out and touched it. Oh, I wanted to so badly. She had such a lovely arch and wrinkled sole that were accentuated by the fact that she was pointing her toes as she held her leg up. The shoe fell from her foot uncovering five of the most beautiful toes that I have ever seen. They were long and graceful, but not too thin and bony. The nails were painted a dark red color, almost burgundy, and they looked so suckable. They were perfect toes on a perfect foot. A few seconds after the shoe fell, she slowly lowered her foot, and wiggled it very sensuously back into the pump. I watched intently as she replaced her foot back into her shoe, and Lisa watched me watching her. When I finally tore my eyes away from her seductive foot and looked at her face, she was smiling, "You really do like my feet, don't you? Admit it." The was a long moment of silence before I responded, "Yes, yes, I do." She smiled more broadly with a strange look of satisfaction. We took a break. I went to the men's room to regain my composure. I was sweating and my manhood was becoming erect from the sensuality of the episode. I washed my face, got myself together, and returned to the conference room. We finished the report with no more said about her feet, but I continued admiring them during the rest of the meeting.

That Friday, Lisa stopped in my office just before lunch, to ask me if I could give her a ride to the auto shop at lunch time. She had left her car there in the morning, and she needed a ride to pick it up around noon. I agreed, and at quarter until noon we left in my car for lunch, with plans to stop by the auto shop afterwards. She must have had an extensive wardrobe, because over the month that she had been our secretary, I had rarely seen her wear an outfit twice. That day she wore a brown conservative business suite, and a pair of matching brown, very high-heeled pumps, and shear, flesh colored stockings. She always wore pumps with 4- to 5-inch spiked heels. They had become her trademark around the office, spawning jokes like, "Don't piss Lisa off or she will stomp you with those spiked heels." I am sure someone in the office fantasize about that.

We arrived a Chinese restaurant, and were escorted to a table for two. After ordering our lunch, she crossed one leg over the other, and dangled it at the side of the table. She leaned over and said softly, "So tell me, what do you do with feet." This caught me by surprise, because nothing had be said about it since Monday afternoon in the conference room. I though that her curiosity had been satisfied then, and did not expect her to bring it up it again. "What do you mean," I asked. "Well, I know you like feet, but do you do any to then, rub them or, maybe... kiss them?" She was swinging her leg back and forth seductively by the side of the table, missing my leg by inches on each swing. "That's kind of personal," I replied defensively. "Well, I you won't tell me, I will have to guess," she said playfully. "I bet you like to rub them, and kiss them, and .... lick the toes. Am I right?" She said enthusiastically. I said absolutely nothing, and kept an expressionless poker-faced look. "What else could you do with feet," she said, casting her eye upward as if searching for answer. "Do you like shoes, too? I have heard of guys that like to have sex with shoes. Do you do like that?" Still, I remained expressionless, but her talk about the subject started getting me turned on. "I bet you give good foot massages," she said as she rubbed the top of her foot on my knee. The waiter brought our lunch. "Come on. I don't mean to embarrass you," she said in a consoling way. "I am just interested in why you always stare at my feet. I think your little 'foot thing' is cute." I told her that I had always been attracted to feet and legs, like some men are attracted to breasts of butts. She interrupted my explanation, saying, "But guys that like breasts do things with them, sexual things like kissing, licking.....sucking. What can you do with feet? The same things?" I was nerve, but not quite as nervous as I was in the conference room that previous Monday, responded as tersely as I could, "Pretty much the same things." "Gee, that's interesting," she said. When we finished our lunch, we picked up her car from the mechanic, and returned to work.

Over the next few weeks, she made it a point to come in my office and carry on small talk conversations. She would always find ways to bring up my foot preference in the conversation. She would say and do little seductive foot things, like saying, "Do you like my shoes today?" as she dangled them from her toes, or saying, "My feet or so tired," as she sat in a chair, removed one shoe, and began rubbing her foot. It was obvious that she was enjoying teasing me with her feet. Officially, this could have been serious grounds for a sexual harassment charge, but I love it! I hated her, but I loved what she was doing. Each day, I anticipated her visits to my office, and wondered how she would tease me with her feet. I started to expect it. If she didn't come by one day, I felt neglected, and wondered if she had grown tired of the teasing, and if the novelty had worn off. Sometime she ignored me for a few days, and then from nowhere, she would tease me by saying something about her feet or doing something seductive with them. One afternoon, she came in, sat in my guest chair, removed both shoes, and put her bare feet on my desk a foot away from my face, and said, "Do you think I have pretty feet?" I hesitated for a moment, as I gazed in awe at her gorgeous soles and toes, then answered her truthfully, "Yes, very much so." She was always discrete and as far as I know, no one ever suspected that anything unusual was going on between us.

Our office group was attending a small going away party for one of our coworkers that was leaving the company. About a dozen of us met at the bar of one of the local hotels for a few drinks. Lisa was there in all of her glory. Her wardrobe choices for that day were a purple, silk dress, with black, black patent leather pumps with 4-inch high heels, and no hosiery. As usual, she was the center of attention. I intentionally avoided her and the crowd of guys that always attended her, and sat with a couple of my closer work associates. After a couple of hours, the party dispersed, leaving Lisa and me as the only remaining members of our work group left in the bar. Lisa came over to my table. "Well, I guess we are the only ones left. Do you mind if I sit here?" she asked. I nodded in approval, and she sat across from me at the table.

We talked about how nice the party was, how we would miss the guy who was leaving, and other trivial topics of conversation for about twenty minutes. From the whimsical look in her eyes, I could tell she was about to change the subject of conversation. "You know, I am still curious about your foot thing," she said. I hated when she called it my "foot thing," but I said nothing, and looked at her waiting for her to continue. "I talked to my cousin that used to have a boyfriend that did all kinds of strange things to her feet," she continued. I could tell she was waiting for me to comment on her statement. I waited for a few moments, and then replied. "What did he do?" She went on, but in more of a whisper, "She said that he 'worshipped' her feet. What does that mean?" "You should ask her," I replied. "What is worshipping feet? She asked. "It sounds kinky. I bet it's like kissing them and sucking the toes, that kind of thing." I remained silent, then she went on. "That actually sounds like it could be fun." She laughed. "Do you worship feet?" she said in a very seductive tone. I said nothing. She continued. "You do like my feet, we established that already. Look, I will just come out and say it..... Would you like to worship my feet?" She crossed her legs to the side of the table so I could see her luscious bare foot, nestled into those sexy black patent leather pumps. She rotated her foot sensuously, as my eyes absorbed the lovely sight of the soft smooth top, gracefully sculptured arch, and enticing toe cleavage, all embraced in a sexy black shoe. After a long pause, still gazing at her lovely foot, I said, "Yes, I would." I reached my hand down the side of the table and rubbed the top of her foot with my fingers. The soft skin of her foot was pleasant to my touch, Just that brief contact with her wonderful foot sent erotic chills through me. "When?" I asked, withdrawing my hand from her foot. "Tonight," she replied immediately. "Can you get a room here?" I looked around the bar for any familiar face from the office. I saw no one that I knew. "Wait here," I said. "I will be right back." I got up, left the bar, and went to the hotel lobby. I look carefully to see if there was anyone that would recognize me, but saw no familiar faces. I quickly went to the front desk and rented a room for the night. When I returned to the table, I told Lisa the room number. We agreed that it would be more discrete that we not go to the room together. I went first and she followed a few minutes later. I wasn't really sure what I was getting into, but I knew that I had an obsession with this woman's feet. She had been cultivating these feelings by her constant teasing for almost two months. I knew that I had to go through with this to its ultimate outcome.

We looked at each other nervously as she sat in the armchair and I sat on the edge of the bed. "Well, here we are," she said, her voice shaking a bit betraying her nervousness. "What do we do now?" I walked over to her, sat on the floor in front of her, and said, "What would you like me to do?" "You are going to teach me about foot worshipping, right?" she said as she raised her foot and rested her heel on my shoulder. I turned my face toward her lovely foot. With my nose an inch away from it, I could smell the combination of sweat, perfume, and leather, that blended into a wonderfully intoxicating aroma. I planted a light kiss on the inside of her ankle, another one on her instep, and yet another one on the top of her foot near her toes. Turning back to see her face, I noticed that she showed no expression, but her eyes were watching me intently. With both hands, I removed her foot from my shoulder, and held in front of my face. I admired it as though it were a priceless art treasure. Her full, shapely thigh tapered to form a beautiful, slender ankle. The top of her foot was soft and smooth to my touch. Her pumps exposed just he right amount of toe cleavage to peek my curiosity about the treasures that remained unseen. The instep of the pump flashed ample amounts of an erotically wrinkled arch, which curved with such grace, it challenged the classic beauty of a Greek sculpture. I kissed her lovely ankle, lightly licking it with my tongue. My tongue, then, began its sensuous journey. Starting at the front of the ankle, it moved down to the top of the foot. As my tongue slowly traversed its length, the soft texture and slightly salty taste aroused the foot lust in me. It retraced its path along the top of her foot several times, before continuing forward to the toes. There, it probed the toe cleavage, and savored the slick texture of the adjacent patent leather. I glanced at her face. She was still watching me intently, and flashed a slight smile when I caught her eye. With her foot still cradled in my hands, I explored her instep and arch with my lips and tongue. My mouth opened widely, and clamped firmly over her instep, as my tongue probed wildly between the side of the shoe and the arch of her lovely foot. I enjoyed the wrinkled texture and even saltier taste of her arch, as my tongue dart over it. With my lips still firmly planted on her instep, I glance up to see her face. Her eyes were large with amazement, as she watched me with single-minded concentration. After sufficiently worshipping her foot, I switched to the other one, and gave it equal attention.

I suddenly realized my hypocritical attitude about this encounter. I did not like her as a person at all, but I had an uncontrollable lust for her feet. Her teasing over the last two months had angered, as well as titillated me. I had been aware of these conflicting feeling about her since the beginning, but it was at this moment, with my cock rock hard and her feet in my mouth that I fully realized the irony of the situation. However, it was the lust in me that was predominant now, so I continued worshipping her feet and shoes with passion.

I release her foot, placing it beside the other one on the floor in front of me. I sat back and looked directly into Lisa's eye, and said, "Does that satisfy your curiosity?" For the first time since I met her, she was speechless. She just stared at me, her eyes wide, and her mouth slightly open as if to speak, but she remained silent. After a few seconds of silence, I said, "I can go on if you would like." She nodded her head in approval. I bent over to her feet, still together on the floor, and kissed and licked over the tops of both of them, around her ankles, and over the toe cleavage. I sat up, and began unbuttoning my shirt. "What are you doing?" she said breaking the long silence. "Didn't you say you were interest in what I did to feet?" I said, "Well, I am going to show you." She looked a little nervous as I unbuckled my belt, and unbuttoned and unzipped my pants. I enjoyed watching her squirm nervously for a change, repaying her for the many times she had made me nervous. I removed my pants and sat on the floor before her in my briefs and socks. She looked at the bulge in my briefs that had formed from the excitement of worshipping her feet. "Did my feet do all of that?" she said in a humorous tone. "Yes, and I hope they will do more." I replied, as I laid on the floor, and continued enjoying the smells, tastes, and textures of her feet and pumps.

My burgeoning cock was throbbing with excitement from my oral ministration of Lisa's feet and shoes. I laid on my side, and separated her feet on the floor such that I could continue worshipping one of them orally, while my cock could explore the other one. She was a little more relaxed now, and was leaning back comfortably in the armchair. Her feet, still in those beautiful pumps, were on the floor, one at my face, the other one, inches from the bulge in my briefs. I placed my lips over the top of her foot, my tongue tracing little circles over it. With my hand, I nudged the other foot closer to me so it slightly pressed against my bulge. Lisa offered no resistance, so I assumed that she approved. As my tongue danced over her foot and shoe, I pressed the other one more firmly to my hard cock. I pulled the front of my briefs down to expose my naked, rigid manhood to her foot and shoe. The feel of her foot on my throbbing cock filled me with erotic pleasure. This is what I had fantasized about for months! Her constant teasing at work had heightened my senses in anticipation of this moment. My lips and tongue went wild on one foot and shoe, as I rubbed the tip of my cock long the length of the other one. Seeing the little trails of pre-cum on her foot, that my cock had left behind, inspired me to switch her feet. As I licked the pre-cum from the top of her foot, my cock head was traversing the length of the foot I had orally worshipped before. The salty taste of my pre-cum fluids combined well with the taste and texture of her foot to carry me to new heights of arousal. Lisa began to rock the foot at my cock back and forth on her spiked heel, enhancing the stimulation. This was the first reciprocal action she had done since this started. Before, she had been completely passive to my ministrations of her feet.

I removed my briefs completely and laid on my stomach with one of her feet under my cock and the other one at my face. I moved my hips slowly, causing my stiff cock to slide back and forth across the top of her foot, as I continued making oral love to her other one. The feel of the soft skin of her foot and the slick, hardness of the toe of her patent leather pump on the underside of my swollen cock was exquisite. I rotated my hips with more force, increasing the sensation of her foot and shoe under my manhood. My tongue darted madly over her other foot and shoe. I partially remove her foot from the shoe to expose more of her sole to my licking tongue. The taste and wrinkled texture of her sole on my tongue titillated me immensely, as I sucked, and kissed, and licked it with intense passion.

My cock was within seconds of bursting in climax, as I continued thrusting it over the top of her feet. I stopped, because I wanted to see my manhood erupt on her feet in all of its glory. Sitting on the floor in front of her, I placed her feet together in my lap. I began to stroke my cock with one hand while I held her feet together, in my lap, with the other one, being careful that those deadly spiked heels did not dig into my flesh. I rubbed my sensitive cock head all over her feet. I especially enjoyed loosening her shoe enough to push the head between the shoe and her bare arch. She sat up and watched with intense interest as I stroked my cock. Having no lotion available, I used my own saliva to lubricate my hand. I pumped and pumped my cock wildly, as my balls rested on the toes of her shoes. The familiar pre-climactic churning feeling started in my balls, and radiated through my groin. The dull ache in my balls served as a warning of the wrenching orgasmic spasm that soon followed. It felt as if every muscle in my body convulsed and every nerve fired at once, as the intensely wonderful orgasmic sensations shot through me, sending a powerful, thick stream of hot, creamy cum over the top of her foot. It splattered against the front of her ankle, and ran down over the top of her foot in a thick stream. As I continued to pump my throbbing dick, I could feel the next wave surge through my loins, spewing another load of juice over the top of the other foot, dripping down her instep over her arch and into her shoe. I kept stroking my cock, milking two more spurts of the milky fluid over the toes of her shoes, dripping into her toe cleavage, before I relaxed in the afterglow of satisfaction. Lisa's eyes were wide with awe, but she still said nothing.

I was physically drained, but I was still mentally charged with excitement. I laid on my stomach, and began examining her cum-soaked feet and shoes. One ankle was soaked from my first surge, with a little river of cum trailing down the front of her ankle to the top of her foot. The other foot had a pool of it on top. The stream of semen trickling over her gracefully curved arch into her shoe looked very erotic, as did the drops of sperm that had trickled from the tops of her patent leather pumps, and had settled in the cleavage between her toes. The erotic vision of this turned me on, as I began kissing and licking her cum-drench feet with passion. My tongued traversed the length of her feet, licking the cum from her ankles, her lovely arch, and relishing the drops from her sexy toe cleavage. I even licked some of it from the toes of her pumps, something I generally do not do, but I was so charged up by all that had happened, I was willing to push the frontiers of eroticism.

When I finished, I sat back and looked at Lisa. She looked back, her eyes wide with awe, and her mouth open in astonishment. "Well, that is what I do to feet," I said. There was a long pause. Then, she finally broke the silence and said, "I would never have believed how erotic that could be! here did you pick that up?" I explained that my foot preference goes back to pre-puberty, and that I had had a sexual love for feet ever since. She still looked amazed.

She stood up and went to the bathroom, as I sat on the bed, still naked. I had very mixed feelings about what had happened. While I did not like Lisa as a person (she had taken the act being a bitch and had cultivated to an art form), I was ecstatic about her feet. I loved and hated the experience, simultaneously, just as I had loved and hate the office teasing. The collage of mixed emotions and thoughts did nothing but confuse me. Reviewing the last hour's events in my mind aroused me to erection, again. After a few minutes, Lisa returned from the bathroom, and immediately left the hotel room, only saying a quick "Goodbye, see you at the office." I sat on the bed, thoroughly pissed by her abrupt exit. The anger killed the erection that was building, as I laid back on the bed, contemplating my situation.

The next day, Lisa brought my mail to my office as usual, with her perky "Good morning." We engaged in small talk as though nothing had happened the evening before. I felt uncomfortable not talking about the bizarre episode that was still fresh on my mind, but I would have probably been even more uncomfortable talking about it. Our chat continued for a few minutes, then she left and we both began our respective work day activities. As she left, I realized that there was one significant difference with our brief morning interaction, I had not looked at her feet, not even a glance. I did not know the color of her shoes or whether or not she was wearing hosiery. In fact, I hadn't even thought of glancing at them while she was in the office. The previous night's encounter had affected me more than I thought. The rest of the day was fairly normal. Our interactions were strictly professional, with no discussion of last night nor of feet at all. I did manager to glance at her feet, but I have forgotten what she was wearing that day.

The next day, as Lisa performed her perky "Good Morning" ritual just inside my office door, she walked over to my desk, leaned toward me, and whispered, "Don't you think we need to talk? How about lunch?" Maybe talking would clear the air, so I agreed. She left the office and we started our working day.

We left for lunch around 11:30 to beat the crowds. I suggested a deli that was several miles from the office, where we would have less chance of meeting our coworkers, and she agreed. While she was driving to the deli, my eyes scanned her legs and feet. She was wearing a pink knit dress with shear flesh-tone pantyhose and brown pumps. Like many women, she took her shoes of to drive, because the high heels make it awkward to operate the pedals. I intently watch her stocking-clad foot operate the pedals as she drove. I was especially aroused by the flexing of her toes as the pressed and released the accelerator, and could easily imagine replacing that pedal with various parts of my anatomy. This was the first time since the hotel adventure that I had taken a long look at Lisa, trying to avoid her at the office. The sight of those luscious legs and feet aroused as well as angered me. I was aroused my her sensuous legs and feet, but angry at myself for succumbing to their intoxicating effects.

We arrived at the deli, and found a table away from the main traffic areas. We looked at each other nervously, avoiding real eye contact, as we sat on opposite sides of the table. "How did you feel about the other night?" she asked, breaking the awkward silence. "I had very mixed feeling," I responded. "I am sorry it happened." "Why?" she asked in a surprised tone. "You seemed to enjoy it."

Just then the waitress took our order. I ordered a corned beef sandwich, and Lisa ordered a chicken salad sandwich. I hate chicken salad.

"I Oh, I enjoyed it a lot, " I replied, after the waitress left. "...but..." "I am sorry that I left in such a hurry afterwards," she interrupted. " but I had to get home. We were expecting guests that evening." She continued, "It really turned me on watching you ... do your thing with my feet." "How did it turn you on, Lisa?" I asked. She thought for a few seconds and, then, replied. "It made me feel desirable, wanted, lusted after, important. It's kind of hard to explain, but I got chills watching you make love to my feet." This was consistent with her actions in public. She always went out of her way to be noticed and admired. She thrived on being the center of attention. Her style of dress, her demeanor, the flamboyant way she enters a room all demonstrate her need for attention. My attention to her feet must have satisfied this need in a big way. "Do we have to analyze it?" She said, "Why can't we just enjoy it and go on? We obviously have complimenting desires." Her reasoning would have made sense, except that I had the small problem of just not liking her. I couldn't tell her that the conflict of loving her feet, but not liking her was the main source of my problem. I responded with a comment about another, but less significant problem. "If the people at work find out, it could be bad for both of us. It could affect our careers, home life. We are both married, and..." She interrupted me in mid sentence, saying, "I have always been very discrete. I value my job and marriage just as much as you do, so that should not be an issue."

The waitress brought our sandwiches, and left. Lisa was right again, but I did not respond. I tried to changed the subject, asking her how she liked the chicken salad (yuck), but she steered the conversation back, asking, "Does this mean we can't enjoy each other any more? As she looked at me with that "cute" little girl pout that I had learned to hate. Suddenly, I felt her stocking-covered toes sliding over the back of my hand that was in my lap. The feel of it sent a quick chill through me. She removed her foot, and placed it back into her shoe. Crossing her legs, she let one foot dangle along the side of the table. I glanced at it a few times I ate my sandwich. The hose was so shear I could see the little creasing in the skin around her toe cleavage. "I don't know. Let me think about it." I said. "OK!" she said tersely, her tone indicating the frustration of a little spoiled brat who couldn't get her way. We finished our lunch with very little further conversation, and returned to work. On the way back, I marveled at her stockinged foot on the pedals, again, and hated myself for it.

The next couple of weeks were relatively normal. I traveled on business several times and was not in the office much. When I was, the interactions between Lisa and me were cordial, but professional, with almost no talk of our little secret. She did, however, continue her "good morning" sessions at the door of my office, displaying her latest wardrobe components, with the shoes and hosiery of the day. I really did look forward to those little sessions, just to see what she was wearing, especially on her feet and legs. They were always sensual and stimulating. My obsession with her had not died, and I was just starting to admit that fact to myself.

The long, awaited weekend had arrived, and I was in the local shopping mall, picking up some odds and ends, and marveling at the young ladies that always seem to swarm around shopping malls. While I stood in a bookstore, browsing over the new releases, I heard a familiar voice spoke, seemingly out of thin air, "What are you doing here?" I turned toward the direction of the voice, and there she was, the "lovely" Lisa, with a rather large, robust looking fellow standing beside her. "Hi, Lisa," I said, surprised to see her in my world away from work. She was wearing white denim shorts (very short) with a blue T-shirt. Those lovely feet were encased in a pair of ultra-sexy high heeled white skimpy-strapped sandals, which exposed that wonderfully, sculptured arch and succulent toes. The large, muscular fellow was her husband, Jack, who she introduced to me cordially. He seemed like an amiable guy, much too nice of a person to be married to her. Jack also looked as though he would easily kick my ass if had found out what I had done to his wife's feet. This gave me the inspiration to capture the visions of Lisa's sexy feet in very short, discrete glances. We spoke for a few minutes, then went our separate ways.

The following Monday morning, Lisa had just arrived at my office door, looking stunning as usual. After we got the small talk out of the way she walked over to me and said softly, "Can we get together tonight?" I was a little surprised. I thought our little escapade was over. Part of me wanted it to be over and part of me didn't. After a few seconds pause, I said, "When?" "Jack is leaving on a business trip tonight at 6:30." She explained. "I have a few things to do after that, but I can meet you around 8:00. Can you do it?" Just the thought of being with those lovely legs and feet aroused me. In seconds, I had rationalized how this was only physical satisfaction, and how I shouldn't let petty emotions (like hating her personally) stand in the way of erotic sexual pleasure. I owe this to myself. I confirmed the theory that a stiff cock can rationalize anything to get satisfied, and said "No problem. Where do you want to meet." She told me to get a hotel after work and notify her via the office voice mail. She would listen to it around 7:00 and meet me at the location that I specified around 8:00. We agreed on the plan, she left, and we began our working day.

I left work at 6:00 and drove to a hotel sufficient far from the office and my home to reduce the chance of running into someone I knew. After I checked into the room around 6:30, I called Lisa's voice mail number and left a message, telling her where to meet me. Then, I called home to tell my wife that I would be very late coming home. I had an hour and a half until Lisa would arrive, so I decided to have some dinner in a small diner down the street from the hotel. While I ate, I was eager with anticipation over meeting Lisa again. I thought of our first encounter and how sexually gratifying it was. I recalled the images of her sexy legs and feet, that had been burned in my mind as a permanent record. My mind conveniently discarded the negative aspects of the episode, and only focused on the erotic pleasures that I had experience, and hopefully, would experience again tonight. I finished dinner, and returned to the hotel room, refreshed myself with a shower, put my shirt and pants back on (no underwear nor socks), and watched a little mindless television until she arrived.

At about 8:10, there was a little tap on the door. My heart raced with anticipation as I opened it and gazed upon the image of sensuality that entered. Lisa wore a blue, silk, printed dress that clung to her body. Her hose was very shear and black, with dark blue, suede high heeled pumps. She was gorgeous! "Good evening," she said in her perky voice as she strode across the room, placing her purse on the bedside table. "Hi," I replied, as my eyes followed her every move. She sat on the foot of the bed, and sighed, saying, "Well, I'm here." "So am I," I replied as I sat next to her. We exchanged nervous smiles, then discussed the events of the work day to fill the silence.

When I reached down to lift her leg into my lap, she resisted firmly saying, "No! I like it when you are on the floor," and adding in a more seductive tone, "Now get down there and begin worshipping my feet....please." I slid myself to the floor, and sat just admiring her feet and legs for a few moments. Then, I lifted her foot to my lips and began kissing the top of it. I prefer bare feet, but there was something very sensual about her foot in the shear nylon. They were shear enough to see the detailed shapes and textures within, especially the wrinkly texture of the arch, the graceful shape of the ankle, and the lovely little details of the toe cleavage. I placed kissed all over the top of her foot, licking my tongue in little circles around each spot that I kissed. I had never worshipped a nylon-clad foot before. The taste and texture of the nylon on my lips and tongue were exquisitely unique. There was also a unique smell that the nylon added to the normal aroma of her foot. I never though that I would like it, always preferring bare feet, but this was very erotic.

"Now do the other one!" she demanded as she removed the foot from my hand, replacing it with the other one. I started savoring the taste and texture of the other stocking-covered foot, loving it as much as the first. I noticed that the first foot had found it way into my crotch. I reached down and pressed it firmly to my bulging manhood, as I continued kissing and licking her foot with even more passion. She slipped the pump off her foot just slightly, enough to allow my tongue access to her arch and sole. I licked along the length of her arch, back and forth, relishing the tastes and textures on my tongue, while her other foot gently nudged my throbbing manhood. Just as before, her eyes absorbed everything that I did to her feet.

"When are going to take off those clothes?" she said, more in the tone of an order that a question. I quickly removed my pants and shirt, and resumed my worshipping of her feet. "Lie on your stomach and worship my feet" she said, as she pushed my face away with the toe of her shoe. Her increasingly dominant tone was beginning to annoy me, but, in my highly aroused state, I tolerated it in anticipation of pleasures to come. Lying on my stomach complete naked before her, I began kissing and licking her nylon-caressed feet, framed in those sexy blue pumps, with fervor that reflected my intensity heightened state of arousal. My tongued probed her sexy toe cleavage, sensing the contrast between the texture of the silky nylon-covered toes and the soft, fuzzy suede. Lisa removed one of her feet from the ministrations of tongue. Soon, I felt the sharp, pointed heel of her shoe, trace down my back, and over my buttocks, just slightly invading the sensitive area between the cheeks. She probed between my butt cheeks with the toe of her shoe, invading that sensitive domain ever so slightly, as I continued worshipping the other foot passionately. She was elevating me to levels of erotic pleasure where I had rarely ventured before. Every nerve in my body was in a state of heightened sensitivity, amplifying the sensation of every touch. I felt the toe of her shoes trying to wedge itself under my hips, between them and the floor. Slightly lifting my hips from the floor, I permitted her foot to slip under my throbbing cock. I rotated my hips, causing my rigid member to slide back and forth across the top of her toes. The sensation of her nylon-covered toes and the toe of the suede pump on my pulsing manhood sent erotic thrills surging through my loins.

Just as I was reaching the peak of my excitement, she suddenly removed her feet from my groin and my worshipping mouth, and sternly said, "Lie on you back." "Why," I asked. "Because I want you to," she responded. I hesitated for a few seconds, then obeyed her command. Lying on my back, on the floor before her feet, fully nude, my erect cock throbbing with every beat of my heart, Lisa rubbed her pointed heels slowly over my highly sensitized body. Starting at my chest, she traced them down my stomach, and circled my groin, causing my skin to twitch with titillation. She ran them over the inside of my thighs, sending chills up and down my spine. I body quivered as she traced her sharp heels up and down the underside of my erect cock. The toe of her shoe found its way under by scrotum, and began prodding my balls. I grasped my cock with my hand and began stroking it. Breaking the silence, Lisa said "What are you doing? Move you hand. You can't release yet. I will let you know when." I continued rubbing my engorged dick. She removed her feet from my body, and repeated, more sternly this time, "Move you hand! I am not done with you, yet." The demanding tone angered me, but my ego took a back seat to my lust and I complied. She continued teasing me, endlessly, rubbing her heels over my body, making me kiss and lick her feet and shoes. On several occasions her pointed heels would hurt as they poked into my flesh. When I complained she would stop, but offer no apology, indicating to me that the incidences were not accidents. Anytime I tried to remove her shoes, she resisted and told me she wanted to keep them on. Her ministrations stimulated and angered me at the same time.

After teasing me for what seemed like eternity, she finally said, "Sit up." I did immediately. "I bet you would like some relief now. You can get yourself off, while you continue worshipping my feet." I retrieved some lotion that I had brought, and put a few drops in my hand. With one shoed foot in my lap and the other one raised to my lips, I began stroking myself, while I orally worshipped her foot. Because of her endless teasing, it did not take long before I felt the rumbling in my groin, signaling the approaching eruption. I clamped my mouth over the top of one foot, sucking it hard, my tongue darting over it wildly, while my hand stroked pulsating cock to orgasm. Streams of creamy cum shot over the top of her nylon-clad foot and the toe of the suede shoe, as I continued pumping my cock feverishly. I stopped my oral ministrations, and watched the last of my semen spurt onto her foot and shoe. The sight of the cream-colored juices on the black nylon was very erotic. As I rubbed the saturated hose with my fingers, I could see the cum, that has seeped through the nylon, smear over her bare skin of her foot within. I found that particular vision very exciting.

She lifted her cum-soaked foot to my lips, waiting for me to lick my emissions from it, as I had done before, but the mixed feeling that I had about this entire ordeal killed any desire in me to do so. As I immediately stood up, she said, "You're not finished...." "Yes I am." I replied, before she could complete her sentence. I gathered my clothes, and went into the bathroom to wash up and dress. When I returned, Lisa was sitting at the foot of the bed, wiping the remaining cum from her foot and shoe with the sheet. She seemed to be having a little problem removing some stubborn spots that had absorbed into the suede, which gave me some satisfaction. "Excuse me," she said angrily, as she rushed into the bathroom. As I sat in the chair, the though of the evening's events sickened me. How could I let lust drive me to such humiliation, especially with this bitch? I hated her, and I was beginning to not like myself very much. After a few minutes, Lisa came from the bathroom, hastily gathered her belonging, and left the room without saying a single word.

I cannot go through this again. This madness must end! But in spite of reason, I would allow the madness to continue for a little longer.

To be continued....

©1999 by GeorgeH and may not be reposted without his written permission.

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