Footboy Tales 1: Psychic Foot Love

"Helen... "

"I know, Jim," Helen laughed, "I've got you all horny, don't I? I don't need to read your mind to know that, but it's still fun reading your fantasies as I was describing my feet. You are really horny for my feet. I'll bet you could suck my toes for about ten hours right about now, huh?"

"You are cruel," was all Jim could manage as he tried not to cum in his pants.

"You don't know the half of it, Jim. I've been waiting a long time for a man to worship my feet. And now that I have a possible contender for the position, I'm not letting you go that easily. Should I tell you more, Jim? Think you can take it?"

"Uh... Helen... maybe I should just... "

"Oh, no, Jim. You're gonna hear more. I'm gonna keep going until I reel you all the way in and you're right here getting all moony and puppyish over MY feet. So listen up. Not only are my feet exactly what you're looking for, but so am I. Oh, I'm not gorgeous, but I have the exact personality you think a woman should have. By that I mean that I agree with your philosophy of foot worship. You believe that a man is lucky to be allowed to worship a woman's feet. I couldn't agree more. You also believe that women who do allow men to kiss their feet only do it because they want to please their partners - that very few women are actually into it themselves. Also true. But this woman you're talking to WANTS her feet worshipped. I have fantasized a man kissing and licking and sucking on my feet for long, long periods of time, until my feet get all wrinkly like prunes. I can just imagine how good they'd feel after all that attention. That's how much I love my feet being worshipped. And I feel like my feet DESERVE to be worshipped, so I'm ready to kick my shoes off at a moment's notice any time of day or night and get my man busy making them happy. And I would HATE IT if a man said he was too tired to worship my feet anymore and I was still in the mood for more foot loving. I know I'd probably try to keep poking my feet in his mouth until he opened up and finished the job. I don't like unfinished business. To me, that would be like coitus interruptus. And everyone knows that's not a good thing. That's why I'm perfect for a man like you, Jim, who just can't get enough of pampering a pretty pair of tootsies. I know from reading your mind that you wouldn't stop until I felt one hundred percent satisfied. You'd never dream of neglecting my feet. Am I right, Jim?"

"Helen, you seem to know me even better than I know me."

"I know you'd love my feet, Jim. I suggest you stop by some time soon and get to know them. Once you've tasted my feet, Jim, dear, you won't be able to pull yourself away from them ever again. So, fair warning... my feet really are that hot. Like I said, I'm no beauty queen, but my feet will own your heart. So, what do you say, Jim? Wanna stop by some night and give my cute tootsies a close-up look? One wiggle of my pretty piggies and you'll want to lay your heart at my feet. And just so you know, I'll let you do it. I'll let you snuggle right up to them and purr like a kitten while you give my toes and insteps hundreds of little grateful kisses."

Jim heard Helen giggle over the phone, and he knew why. He had exploded into his jeans.

"You see, Jim? That's just the tip of the iceberg. Come see my pretty feet really soon. Like I said, you won't be disappointed. You won't be able to resist curling up at MY feet. What do you say, Jim? Think we should meet and talk about it? Can't hurt, can it?"

Slowly coming down from his rush, Jim spoke into the phone staggeringly, "If this is how good it is just to talk to you over the phone, Helen, I'm not sure I'd survive a face-to-face meeting."

She laughed, "Well, nothing ventured, nothing gained, Jim. I've got two really sweet feet here just waiting for your adoration. If you pass up an opportunity like this, you may never meet your Foot Goddess. Come on, Jim, you know we're perfect for each other. You want pretty feet to worship and I'm willing to give you your fill of mine. Can you say no to that? You'd be crazy to. Us getting together would be like the universe finally being set right. You've dreamed of a woman like me and I'm dying to meet a man like you. And you yourself have said how rare women like me are. So if you let this opportunity slip through your fingers,then you don't have the right ever again to moan about not meeting your Foot Goddess. She's right here. All you have to do is write down my address and drop by some night soon... and the universe will finally go into proper alignment... for both of us. In other words, Jim, don't fuck this up. Now, do you want my address or not? "

Jim didn't have to think about it. "Helen, if you don't give me your address, I'm going to have to kill myself in some desperate, horrible way."

She read his mind and knew he was joking about the killing part; he was kidding, but his desire to meet her was very strong.. She gave him her address. They agreed on dinner the following night, and maybe a movie. The dinner and movie were optional... the foot worship was not.

It turned out that Helen lived only about forty minutes from Jim. A quick click on MapQuest and Jim found her easily (he did not own a GPS - he lives in the stone age, apparently). He walked up to her door, feeling nervous as hell, fumbling with the yellow roses he'd picked up along the way. He looked himself over quickly to see what was out of place by only a little and what might be so misaligned that it could qualify as ghastly. He seemed in pretty good shape. Looking around at Helen's home, which had to be at least twenty-five years old, he saw she liked flowers a lot. They were all over her yard, along the sidewalk, and in boxes on her window sills. He patted himself on the back for thinking to bring the roses.

Jim reached out to press the doorbell, but before his finger connected with it the door opened. "Hi, Jim," Helen greeted him, standing in the doorway smiling. "Nice to see you again. Lost the Bazinga! shirt I see. Come on in. Oh, are those lovely roses for me? Thank you, that's sweet of you."

"Uh, unless I'm supposed to be meeting someone else, I suppose so." He handed the flowers to her and she gave him a "don't be a wise ass" look, her eyes twinkling and her mouth smiling. "I'm guessing you read my thoughts as I walked up the sidewalk... that's how you knew I was at the door?"

"Nothing so paranormal, Jim. I saw your car pull up, and I heard you on the porch. Spooky, huh?"

He laughed, thinking it wasn't him who was the wise ass, but Helen. Now that he'd actually entered her home and handed her the flowers, essentially breaking the ice, his nerves calmed a bit and he had a chance to look her over. What a complete turnabout from how she looked at the mall! No sneakers and jeans here! Helen wore a gossamer summer dress with a colorful floral pattern that hung loosely from two thin shoulder straps, the moderately low neckline revealing an ample cleavage that her previous blouse at the mall had hidden. The dress looked as if even a gentle wind might lift it skyward like an ascending butterfly. Her legs were bare and nicely shaped, strong calf muscles accentuated by the sexy three-inch-heel slides she wore. And her feet! Oh, Heaven above! She did not lie. Those were the feet of a goddess! Ten times as lovely as those of the red-haired woman at the mall who had so wanted to clean Jim's clock. Those sexy shoes were barely shoes at all, the criss-crossing leather straps as thin as spiders' webs, showing off a whole lot of yummy foot flesh. And those oh so edible toes! - lacquered in a bright, hot orange that lit those toes up like neon signs to direct Jim's tongue to it's desired destination. It broke Jim's heart to see those feet walking away from him instead of kicking off the shoes and snuggling with him.

Around her neck, Helen wore a pearl necklace that led the eyes to that impressive cleavage like a road sign. Her short, crisp hairdo - less untamed than it had been at the mall - barely covered the upper third of the hoop earrings that dangled from her ears. But the biggest difference other than the attire was in Helen's face. Some tiredness still showed through, but with makeup on she was like a breath of fresh air. He noticed that her eyes were a light green, and though they weren't dark, with the way Helen had applied her eye liner and eye shadow they looked mysterious, inscrutable. The long eyelashes weren't there before. Fake? Or just enhanced with loving care? Beneath her eyes, Helen's cheeks were lightly blushed with makeup and her lips looked rich and succulent enough to suck on. Jim was so impressed he was nearly dumbfounded. Was this actually the same woman who had greeted him at the mall?

Jim's eyes captured all of these delightful details as Helen clipped the stems of the roses and put them in water in an ornate vase. Of course, the foot horndog spent most of his time admiring her feet as she stood beside a table and arranged the roses to best effect. Unknowingly, Jim had a rather moronic smile on his face the entire time he gazed at Helen's feet. As she moved her feet here and there during the stem-clipping process, Jim's eyes followed her feet wherever they went. The dumb grin remained fixed on his face.

"Thank you for the compliments, Jim," Helen said, not looking up from the roses. "I'm glad you think I'm pretty. I've never really considered myself attractive, so it's nice that you do. That's one of the perks of being able to read minds. I know if a man's lying to me just to get me in the sack." She finally looked over at Jim, and he shrugged. "You're lovely, Helen. Don't ever let anyone tell you differently. Anyone who doesn't see how pretty you are... well, they're not really looking."

Jim could see her blushing from across the room. "Do you mind if I make a comment, Helen? Or do I even have to? Did you read my mind just now?"

She blushed, "Yes, I did. And I really appreciate it. You were thinking that women like me - more full-figured - are actually more beautiful than the model types. I think you're crazy, but you're entitled to your beliefs the same as anyone else."

"And what else was I thinking? Why do I think curvier women are more beautiful?"

"Jim, stop... you're embarrassing me." She objected, but she was smiling happily nonetheless.

Jim walked over to her and stood beside her, looking her straight in the eye. "Helen, I can't speak for other men, but when I put my arms around a woman, I want to feel something substantial, something WORTH holding onto. When I hold a woman I want to feel like I've got something wonderful in my arms, not some skinny little thing that might slip out of my arms at any second. It just feels so good to hold a woman who's got some substance to her. The pleasure I get from wrapping my arms around a woman of substance is like in a whole different world of sensation. I'm probably not explaining it well, but it's my opinion that any guy lucky enough to put his arms around you should feel like he's been given a rare gift. You really are a beautiful woman. If anyone ever tells you different, they're either hallucinating or insane."

"Oh, Jim," she replied, still blushing, "You don't have to... "

He grabbed her chin and gently lifted her face up to look deeply into her eyes. "I mean it, Helen. I think you are absolutely gorgeous. Read my mind. You know it's true."

"Thank you, Jim. I don't need to read your mind. You're a great guy." Still blushing, she went back to her flowers, finishing clipping the last stem. Her humor came back to the fore, and she quipped, "Besides, Jim, I know what you really want. You only think I'm beautiful because you're so horny for my feet. Didn't I tell you they were the sweetest tootsies you'd ever see? No need to bow down to kiss them just yet - you can do that later." She winked at him. He just grinned stupidly and shivered. His mind conjured up a quick vision of doing just that. Helen lying like royalty on her sofa and him bent on one knee kissing her feet passionately while she sighed and squirmed with delight. In this particular fantasy his lips were paying particularly thorough attention to her hot orange toenails.

"Jim," Helen said, "Stop that or we'll never make it to dinner and the movie." Her face was flushed, and she fanned herself with a magazine that had been lying on the table beside the vase.

"Yeah, you're right," Jim agreed. "Sorry. My bad."

"Okay, all done with the roses. I'm all flushed now and my brain is discombobulated. Where was it we said we were going to eat?"

"We had agreed on Lakeview House. Their food is excellent, and they have a beautiful lake view - hence the very accurate name. It's romantic when the sun dips below the lake. I've reserved a table in the room that has the view. Have you ever been there?"

"No. Sounds lovely. I'm ready, are you?"

"Sure am. Your chariot awaits, ma'am."

"Then let's go. I'm starving. And I can't wait to see that view of the sunset over the lake."

Jim was the perfect gentleman, as he always was. He held the car door for Helen, which impressed her. It was something she wasn't used to. And when he did likewise at the restaurant, he also kissed her hand. He didn't know why he did it. It just seemed like the right thing to do. Luckily, Helen seemed to like it. Her eyes gleamed with approval and she nodded, smiling at Jim in a way that told him she was going to reward him at some point for his manners.

He again held the restaurant door for her, this time not kissing her hand however. The restaurant greeter led them to a table in the corner of the view room. It had the feeling of being a very private table, secluded and intimate. This feeling was accentuated by the fact that the wall lights were dim in anticipation of the coming sunset. The only other light was a small candle in the center of their table. Helen gasped. "Oh, what a lovely view, Jim. This place is incredible. How long before the sun sets?"

"The sun should set in about a half hour. And it's a clear night with only a few clouds. Should be a spectacular sunset. Wait 'til you see how the sun reflects off the water. It'll take your breath away."

They ate and talked and laughed as if they'd known each other for years instead of just a couple of days. And as promised, just as they were receiving their main courses, the sun put on a spectacular display, reflecting it's orange and red hues on the still lake water, and decorating the few wispy clouds above the water with splashes of red, orange and hot pink. It looked like a painting in a museum. Helen was floored by it. She nearly squealed with delight. And the romance of it was not lost on her, either. She reached over and grabbed Jim's hand and gushed, "Oh my God, Jim, that is beautiful! You have no idea how glad I am that you brought me here!" Her eyes sparkled in the candlelight, their green hue even more beautiful that it was earlier. Jim realized he could easily get lost in those eyes. They didn't look tired anymore.

They were holding hands across the table and looking out at the waning light. Slowly the wall lights brightened. Clearly the Lakeview House was used to this nightly sunset spectacular, and had the timing of the room lights down to an art.

Jim and Helen didn't realize they were holding hands right away, and when they both did notice, they made that discovery at the same instant. They looked into each other's eyes and smiled; Jim softly caressed Helen's hand. She started rubbing his in return. There was a long silence. A spell seemed to be weaving itself around the couple. Magic was in the air.

Just before the lights came on fully, Jim was swallowing a mouthful of mashed potatoes and preparing to say something to Helen when he felt something plop into his lap. It landed with a thud. It wanted to be noticed. Jim looked down and nearly choked on his potatoes. Helen's bare, beautiful feet were dancing about in his lap, giddy toes wiggling as though they'd jump right off her feet. Jim's smile was so wide his face nearly split open. He couldn't take his eyes off those feet. He didn't want to. He sighed and watched them play in his lap. He grinned at every toe wiggle, every scrunch and splaying of the toes, ever wrinkling of the soft soles. He would've been happy to just sit and watch them all night, but he suddenly became aware of the fact that he was ignoring his date.

"Uh... nice," Jim said, swallowing hard and wiping his brow. He was flushed with excitement when he looked at Helen.

Smiling a smile that could've melted titanium, Helen's eyes sparkled with mischief. "You've really exceeded all of my expectations tonight, Jim. You've made me happier than I've been in a long time. So,

I thought... maybe... since you've been such a really good boy... if you want... you can give my pretty feet a nice, soothing massage while we have dessert. Or," her grin widened, "did you just want my feet for dessert?"

Clearing his throat, Jim forced his mouth to work despite the sudden dryness that had overcome it. "If I have your feet for dessert, Helen, we will never get out of this restaurant. Not to mention that there will be a lot of people watching me gobble your feet with enthusiasm the likes of which they've never seen before."

"Well, how about that nice foot massage then? Make my sweet tootsies feel all comfy and happy. You don't mind, do you?"

Jim was rubbing her feet before she finished the question.

"Mmmm... nice. You have strong hands, Jim. I think I chose the right footboy for the job."

Just then the waitress walked up to the table to take their dessert orders. Helen didn't want dessert but Jim had always liked Lakeview House's chocolate French silk pie. Jim asked Helen if she'd care to share it with him and she thought that would be a great idea. So that's what Jim ordered.

While waiting for dessert to arrive, Jim continued to massage Helen's feet on his lap. If feet could sigh that's what Jim would've heard as he rubbed. They had long since stopped wiggling about and held still for Jim's hands to spoil them rotten. Helen marveled at how Jim could massage her feet like a pro without looking, while keeping eye contact with her and maintaining a conversation. It was as if his hands were on auto pilot, and her feet were the happy beneficiaries. It felt so wonderful that Helen's mind was too relaxed to even read Jim's thoughts. Only an occasional word or phrase got through her contented haze.

When dessert arrived, Jim stopped massaging Helen's feet, which disappointed them immediately and brought a frown to Helen's face that she wasn't even aware was there. But Jim saw it and was curious for a minute, until he realized why it was there. "Sorry," he smiled, "Don't worry, I'll start rubbing them again as soon as we finish the pie. But, in the meantime... "

Jim looked around the room to see if anyone might be looking. Convinced he had a few seconds to carry out his spontaneous plan, he quickly dipped a finger into the whipped cream atop the pie and scooped up a dollop of it, wasting no time in then placing it on the tip of Helen's big toe on her left foot. Before Helen even knew what was happening, he then stuck his finger back into the pie, this time taking away some of the thick, rich, chocolate filling. In the blink of an eye he then smeared that all over the top of her big toe on her right foot. Helen was wide eyed with surprise when he then bent his head down and at the same time lifted her two feet quickly up to his mouth, inserted both her toes inside it and sucked the chocolate filling and whipped cream off of them in one long, slow suck. Helen squelched a sudden squeal of pleasure and almost tipped over her wine glass. Thankfully, she recovered nicely on both counts, but her head snapped from side to side - as if she'd just suffered a double whiplash - as she looked around nervously to see if anyone was watching. It could've been very embarrassing had anyone seen the mischievous Jim popping her toes in and out of his mouth. When she looked back at Jim, he was laughing, and his mouth was smeared with whipped cream and chocolate, which his tongue seemed to take sublime pleasure in licking away. "Mmmm... tastiest dessert ever," he said, smacking his lips.