A Taste of the Exotic

Yet another installment of the Soleman adventures. Ah, Ye of little faith if you thought I didn’t have at least a couple of experiences with foreign girls. This particular episode happened the summer of my junior year in college. Though not my first time with an international woman, it is by far the best experience. So without further ado…I give you, A taste of the exotic.

***

I was finally reaching my pinnacle in college when everything seemed to go to hell. My shattered social life and the stress of performing for my professors were slowly pulling me down. I was bad off in a worse situation than I’d ever come across in my meager years on this planet. I’d become obsessed with a woman only to find out that I wasn’t her only “soulmate.” Recognizing my distress my best friend convinced me to attend the semester theatre finale. It was production of Shakespeare’s “A Mid Summer’s Night’s Dream” set to include some of the region’s premier interpretive dancers. With the promise of fine art and Damon’s to cease nagging me, I grudgingly agreed to go.

The show turned out to be a wonderful homogeny of powerful acting and breathtaking choreography Particularly on the part of a breath taking young dancer with raven hair and olive skin). After the show Damon and I made our way backstage to congratulate Damon’s girlfriend Melissa for her performance of Tania, Fairy Queen. She accepted my bouquet and kissed me on the cheek before asking me to attend the cast party at her house. Seeing my Raven-haired Goddess tell Melissa she’d be there, I promptly and whole-heartedly agreed.

The party turned out to be fairly good, highlighted by an impromptu comedic routine in the living room by yours truly after being inspired by the arrival of the dark haired wonder (and partly thanks to my taste for strong bourbon and stronger appetite for mocking the discrepancies of my life). After a good thirty minutes of non-stop one-liners and rolling sets of my on going trials and tribulations, I was greeted by a hearty applause and took my leave to fetch another glass of Gentleman Jack from the kitchen. As I bullied my way to the back of the cramped dinette and waylays by terrible impressions of myself I grasped the bottle, poured three fingers neat. I started to drain my glass when through the distorted vision of the glass bottom; I spied the approach of something ethereal slinking its way towards me.

As I lowered the glass, the halo effect remained that vision of Beauty as the dancer who’d caught my fancy introduced herself. Her name was Marla and came from Prague. She’d enrolled at _ State University to study dance. We found ourselves a quiet spot and started talking. She told me of her family history and I explained the origins of my quiet life as a redneck poet. (Dear Reader I do not mean to offend, Being Jewish and raised in the south requires one to grow skin thick and a humor more stout). As she told me of her heritage, I decided to dust off my charm. As she explained her family’s gypsy roots I told her that is was quite obvious by her skills as a dancer, for only one graced by such wild ties could ever dance with such passion. (At least that’s what I think I said, too nervous, too much to drink, but at least rewarded by a flush of the cheeks and a modest smile) After a moment of blushing she asked me if I’d really seen her dance before telling her that I could watch only her. And so it went, a duel of emotions, parrying and lunging, leaving us both looking to our feet, our cheeks rosy from each other’s compliments.

What seemed like a short time turned out to be hours because Melissa finally came in and informed us that Damon and we were the only folks left. Marla asked Melissa if she could crash on the couch, her roommate had “company” and wished to get a night’s sleep without listening to their grunts and groans. Melissa said it would be fine. When we came into the living room to find two sets of bedrolls and Melissa and Damon already retired to bed. I figured it as a matter of habit; I’d attended Mel and Damon’s parties before and always slept at their places, avoiding driving home if I didn’t feel sober enough to drive. I suddenly felt more intoxicated as Marla removed his shoes to lie on the couch, I would stay.

Our conversation continued as we made camp, her on the couch and I on the floor. Suddenly she sat back and started rubbing her delicate size 8 feet and complaining about cramping from her ballet shoes. What’s a man to do? As any gentleman would, I offered a foot massage to ease her woes (and my starving desires). Warm and sweaty from the encasement, I could still faintly see the strap marks of those confining tools of her trade, the red indentions across her tender uppers.

As I plied my skills she continued telling me about the school where she trained in Prague. As my thumbs pressed into her slick soles, her voice trailed off, her heavy accent slurring eventually into a soft purr. Her eyes closed in pleasure, my nose drowned in the musky scent of sweat and leather radiating from those sculpted wonders. Slowly I felt her foot rise until she pushed her foot past my hands against my chin, her toes curling in and out, her arch pressed to my bearded chin. “Oh yes,” She said drawing out the S, “This is what I have been missing all this time.” I instinctively sucked her big toe into my mouth as she brought her other foot up and started rubbing it against my chest.

Her eyes opened and a grin to shame the Cheshire Cat crept upon her face. “I was quite sure there were no men in America whom knew the value of women’s feet.” She said working her toes in and out of my mouth. “I had to leave behind my boyfriend to study here, it has been six months and cannot wait another three to see him.” I pulled her toes from my mouth and told her I wouldn’t want her to get into any trouble. She pushed her toes back into my mouth and said there would be no problem; she knew he’d been releasing his own issues on a female friend back home. Well, dear friend, turn about IS fair play.

As I returned to my duties in tongue massaging her right foot, Marla slipped her left down to my crotch and tickled my growing cock through my pants. Leaning back she watched me from a length of toned muscle and tanned legs, enjoying the contortions of my face as one massage inspired another. Suddenly she pulled her foot from my mouth with a loud POP (not to mention a pout from me) and sat up to undo my pants (replacing the pout with a smile). I pulled her top off to discover the most perfect set of A-cups I’d ever seen, hanging free. My lord, she had come prepared, braless. I started to falter and asked why she’d chosen me.

With a wicked smile she explained she’d seen my act and intrigued asked Melissa who I was. Melissa had evidently been into her cups and divulged more than my identity. Along with my name Melissa told the whole sob story of having my heart broken recently and growing a little perverse spread the secret I was a footman. Dear reader I was at a loss for words, having built up a good feeling sure on my looks and charm, it was my secret fetish that had delivered this angel to my doorstep.

Finally she removed my finale piece of clothing, my boxers to reveal my raging hard 9 inches. She said something in Czech and looked into my eyes with the glimmer of hope a child has upon walking into a candy store. To my delight she decided to show off her flexibility and took me in her mouth, her toes tickling my balls sack. (oh the humanity! I’d forgotten such joys!) Fearing a premature end to our pay I pushed her back and slid my face between her legs. Closely cropped with thin lips straining from lust I kissed my way around her wet pussy and down her legs, ending at one foot and moving back up starting with the opposite foot.

She writhed beneath me, her powerful legs closing and guiding me back to her lower mouth. At last she grabbed my head and pushing my shoulders down with muscles only dancer’s have, forced my lips to hers. I used every ounce of my being to probe between those lips, to tease her clit, turning that sultry accent to an indelible mixture of throaty moans and broken Czech. I felt pressure on my forehead and amazed to see her right foot against the bridge of my nose. In a display of dexterity I have nor will ever see again, she proceeded to grind the heel of her foot against her swollen mound as I sucked hungrily on her toes.

A shudder passed through her as her bucking hips pushed her big toe deeper in my mouth and her heel ground harder to the peaking clit. She groaned and a spasm rocked her groin as her juices sprayed from her on to my neck. Yes friend, I said SPRAYED. I’d never been with a squirter and I hungrily lapped her flowing juices, thankful for the blanket underneath us to keep the couch from getting soaked. She freaked and pulled away from me, afraid something wrong. Instead she started sobbing, worried I’d been offended, worried because that had never happened before. Evidently her boyfriend (the mongrel bastard) had only given into her foot whims with reluctance. And then only toe sucking! I turned her to face me and with the warmest smile I could muster told her that I felt obligated to give her what she desired. It is the American Way!

She smiled brightly and to my amazement draped one, and then her other ankle over my shoulders. Being only little over a hundred pounds the two of us managed to slide my hard member into her well lubed tunnel. Ladies and Gentlemen of the Jury I have but one thing to say, this is something you simply MUST try if you are daring enough. The inverted ramp of her coital nest dove me deeply into her, my thick dick stretching her, my engorged head punching her g-spot. Within moments my crotch was welcomed with another sea spray of that nectar from her pussy.

She pushed her weight forward, leaning me back far enough de-impale herself from me and proceeded to again take me into her mouth. I will never forget those dark eyes and that darker hair as she bobbed her head up and down over my groin. She stopped only once, to ask me with pleading eyes if I minded Cumming on her feet. I simply could not refuse. With the cheery expression of a child finding a longed toy in a Christmas present she sat back and grasped my shaft betwixt her feet.

Her saliva and cum made for excellent lube as her feet glided over my throbbing cock. Her feet sped up as my eyes screwed shut in ecstasy. Suddenly I felt a weird sensation on my head and opened my eyes to see her nuzzling my dick head. Again those deep pools of midnight peered into my eyes as she jerked my cock off with her feet, my dick head rubbing against her lips. The sight was all it took.

With a great heave and a knot in my chest, my seizing cock literally exploded. Cum bursting from me, most shot in her waiting mouth, some on her chin and everything else, to meet her clenched feet. She squealed with joy and started swallowing every drop, including licking all that had fallen on her feet. She did this last feat ample relish, making sure I watched her tongue snake between her own twos hunting for renegade jism.

She smiled, sated, and thanked me. We cuddled beneath the sheets for a long time before passing out in each other’s arms. The next morning we awoke early and dressed in time for Melissa to stumble into the living room. We thanked her for her hospitality and I offered to drive Marla home. Upon arriving at her apartment she asked me if I’d like to come in for coffee. Upon entering her apartment I immediately noticed the absence of any roommate. When I said this to Marla she replied with another of her wicked smiles and slipping her foot out of her shoe wiggled her toes at me. I answered in my own way, by lifting her to the counter and helping myself to the proffered digits.

She moaned loudly as each tiny shrimp entered my mouth, tickled by my skilled tongue. I climbed my way to her pussy and this time ate her out in earnest. She rubbed the crotch of my pants with her dangling feet and I obliged those curious appendages by releasing my straining cock. I was lost in the silky tunnels of her pussy when her feet found my dick. As my instincts took over and I started pumping between those soft soles, her hips began their familiar jaunty bounce and I found myself the recipient of an ambrosia shower.

Leaping to the floor, Marla begged me not to move. She returned seconds later, hiding something behind her back. She dropped to her knees and took my hard dick into her skilled mouth. She stopped suddenly and from behind her back held out a single ballet shoe, well worn. Without a word she slid the end of the shoe over my cock and started sucking on my balls. The sensation of the grooved lining combined with the sensations surrounding my sack caused me to loose control. Inside the tip of the shoe the underside of my cock’s head rubbed against the worn spots from her toes. Those holes now filled with what seemed like a gallon of my sticky cum. She pulled me from her shoe and licked me clean before tilting the shoe back and pouring its contents into her waiting mouth.

She stood up and kissing me, thanked me for a big American breakfast. After a while we regained our composure. We chatted like nothing happened and around 9 o’clock I went home for a shower and a long nap. I tried to get in touch with Marla, but I discovered that she’d left with a touring dance troupe the same day I dropped by for “breakfast.” By the time I saw her again, her boyfriend had moved to the states to study sports medicine. Needless to say, I think he truly accepted Marla’s fetish because whenever I saw them after that, he always had a hint of sweat and shoe leather under the smell of his cologne. And she? I never saw her with the same look of longing she did the night we met.