Toyota ToesbyL O Reins©
Finding a truck is always a pain. While I was shopping for a new used truck, I came across a late model Toyota Land Cruiser way at the back of our local dealer’s lot. I parked my old used truck and began a careful walk around my find. I was surprised and shaken from my excited inspection of the vehicle by a lovely singsong “ hallooo.” I looked up--I was down on my knee looking into the wheel well of the truck as she stepped up close to me between the vehicles and put out her hand. I grasped her fingers lightly, almost as if to kiss her lovely dark hand. “My name is Philalena,” she said and handed me her card. She was Portuguese and, by her accent and the deep rich tone of her skin, probably from the Azores. I couldn’t help but glance down at her feet since they were…practically in my face. She stood poised with one foot slightly forward of the other. In that moment that seemed like ten minutes I gazed fully at one of the most beautiful sights a man attracted to the powerful lure of woman’s pretty feet can ever behold. Here, almost as if offered for inspection, was a perfectly proportioned and defined foot.
How could she know my weakness? Did she see me coming or did she just enjoy watching men’s reactions as they revealed their predilections at the sight of her delectably pretty feet? The shoes were perfect, fitting properly, not causing any undue pressure or unnatural shape to her feet accept, of course, for the slight restraint to the toes whose cleavage peeked delicately above the cut of the shoe. This is so important because when the shoe is removed you want to see the toes wiggle and stretch in the freedom that nudity brings to them. On the other hand (pun?), the sides of the shoe were cut low and loose enough to allow the imagination’s eye to follow the delicate and complex form as it curves in and under her instep to the pale and softly wrinkled sole. That subtle but quick change from deep tan to paler flesh is very agreeable as is a hint of veining to set off the soft hollows and little sharp hints of underlining structure of a perfectly formed foot. Nor does it hurt the effect if this shoe is new, still maintaining its structure and the powerful scent of soft leather mixed with the heady suggestion of foot aromas. Those smells mixed with the visual stimulation are the key to it all and they can vary greatly.
“Pretty, isn’t it,” she said as I tried to turn my eyes back towards her. I took in a long breath and tried to compose myself before saying softly “Yes, it is just…beautiful. Maybe the prettiest I ever saw.” I stood up and introduced myself, trying to regain my composure for the big negotiation as she began her pitch. I couldn’t help but steal glances down to those pretty size sixes when I thought I could get away with it.
Women who have a particular feature attractive to men always know exactly what power they hold and choose to use it for whatever ends they desire. Some women chose to hide or mask those features others wield them wickedly and still there are those that, although they are aware of the attention they arouse, remain fairly innocent of the effect they can have on a man. Philalena, I am happy to say, was one of the former. She had me captive and she knew it. She had already begun her sacred and profane dance to obtain her, as yet revealed, intentions. I followed her around the truck as she pointed out features and once, while at the rear of the truck, she pointed to the undercarriage with that deliciously shod foot to indicate the location of the spare tire. I paused as she posed with her foot lifted, leg stretched and toes pointing to the area under the rear bumper. A lingering moment passed then she said, “don’t you want to look at it…again?” I instantly conjured an image of me on my hands and knees while Philalena, dressed in the black latex of the Domina, gently massages the G-point of my being between my anus and the base of balls with the pointed toe of her shoe. Way at the back of the lot, hidden from the normal traffic of salesmen and customers, I dropped to my knees and elbows to peer under the ass end of the truck as silently commanded. She stepped forward, placing her foot practically under my nose. I gave in and just stared and inhaled, hopelessly under her spell. I started to lower my head but she turned and continued her walk around the truck leaving me taking the first following steps on my knees.
She climbed into the driver’s seat with me in close pursuit. “Hop in and I’ll start her up for you.” I just stood there nodding. She laughed at my confusion, “Go around to the other side and we can crank it up.” I walked around the front of the vehicle, awkwardly trying to conceal my crank handle and jumped in beside her. It was hot inside the truck and I liked that. She inserted the key into the ignition and, because the seat was set all the way back, stretched her right leg and foot out long—toe to the accelerator pedal. What a sight! Her legs were long and well formed--knockout legs actually and her foot was angled forward as she pumped the pedal. I was hooked into this intimate table dance as the strong starter whirred and my dick ached against my jeans. Just then she did the unexpected and removed her shoe telling me, “Oh, I can’t seem to get it started in these.” I was delighted by the prettiest of feet--Popsicle toes dabbed with pearly pink nail polish, a slightly lighter skin tone wrapping from toes under sole to gently caress her heel and all set in the perfect arch and lift as if in an invisible six inch spike. I just stared at her performance, dick hard and jaw slack. She pumped it several more times then let out a squeal, “@%!*#@* (Portuguese expletive!)” Grabbing for her foot she said, “I stepped on something.” She rubbed her foot for a minute, looking at me. Time froze, I couldn’t breath and the words caught in my throat. She just looked sideways at me, patiently giving me the room to speak. When I didn’t respond she started to move to put her shoe back on.
“Let me look at that,” I croaked as I reached out into the charged space between us. Still holding her bare foot in both her hands she pulled away slightly and still looking directly into my eyes she said, “Maybe you should say please.” I paused for one of those endless moments and finally whispered, “Philalena, please let me hold your foot.” You’re crazy” she said but she continued to lock me with her gaze and pressed the ball of her foot in her hands to extend and separate her toes. “Please, Philalena, please let me touch your feet.” Why? It’s so hot and my feet are a little sweaty,” but every body gesture she made spoke eloquently of her desire to tease and torment me. Once more I rasped out my plea telling her hers were the most beautiful feet I had ever seen and this time she smiled coyly and said, “show me how pretty my feet are.”
Philalena propped herself against the door with one arm over the wheel and with the other, leaned forward and turned the key. The truck jumped to life and the air conditioner whirred, bathing us in cool refrigerated air. She leaned back, draping her arm over the seat back and brought her feet up and into my lap, one bare and the other still in her shoe. With a slightly amused look she raised her bare foot and pointed her toes in that classic dream pose that is hypnotic to a confirmed foot sucker like me. She moved closer to my lips until I felt the magnetic pull. I was drunk and delirious as I raised my hands to caress that beautifully aromatic foot and brought my lips down upon the delicate crinkled flesh at the bottom of her big and first toes. She watched me as I worshipped those feet with all the passion and abandon in me. She helped me through any pause or awkward hesitation with her soft urgings, or passionate sighs and gentle chiding. “Yes, that’s a good boy, you certainly do like them don’t you,” she cooed and “Oh, if you keep that up maybe you will make me cum.”
She moved like she was enjoying the pleasure I was lavishing on her feet, alternately licking her shoe and caressing, kissing, licking and even whole mouthing her bare foot. Her toes were delectable, as were her sole and heel. I held her ankle in one hand and supported her foot by caressing her instep with my other. I drank the Champaign, breathing in the bubbles. I could caress her ankles and calves but any attempts to move farther up her silky legs was soon cut short with an “oh no” and a slap or a little shove. I don’t know if she reached orgasm but, from her movements and sighs, I know she enjoyed my devotion. I, on the other hand, felt the warm secretion against my inner thigh even before I was aware of the surging of my penis inside my pants. I fell back against my door and stroked her now bare feet gently. Philalena softly chuckled as she gestured to the large wet stain in my pants, “It looks like you think my feet are very pretty, doesn’t it?” I kissed them one more time and reverently put her shoes back on and we both got out of the truck. She walked back to the office building and I got in my truck and drove out past the little gang of salesmen who were gathered just outside the door smoking and trading comments. They all turned and looked at me almost seeming to smirk knowingly as I drove past them.
The next day I returned to put a deposit on that Landcruiser –It now had a special history for me--but Philalena was nowhere to be found. She didn’t show on the next day either and I had to put down a deposit with another sales person. When I asked where she was I was told she worked at the sister dealership. “But she really made the sale. Will she get her commission?” I asked. ‘Of course, we all work together here.” You know how auto sales people can sometimes sound the least little bit insincere.
I ended up buying that truck and it always had a special significance to me. A private shrine to a foot fetishist’s memoirs. Oh, I had tried to relive that moment but never did I even come close to the magic of that hot august day with Philalena. These memories never fade. Smell inserts itself so strongly in our memory. It has expanded, mixing with my fetish daydreams and flights of fancy. In fact I began to wonder how much of it was true and how much was being drawn from my well of dream like sexual fantasy. I kept that truck for five years and I never saw her again. I even drove out to the sister dealership and asked about her, saying my sister in law had bought a car from her and recommended her highly. But she had left the company and I had lost her card, which I held on to for dear life until it transformed itself back into pocket lint as those papers often due. I live in a small New England town where the chances of re-encounters of the best and worst kind are good but Philalena had disappeared from my realm.
Well, it wasn’t until I had long given up any hope of ever crossing her path again when it became necessary to trade my trusty Land Cruiser in for something newer. I went out on the buying trips you do when your are thinking about a new or different vehicle. The ones you do while you are on the way home from work or on an errand. Late night cruises through the lots looking for that special one without the hassle of dealers and salesmen. Finally one day when I felt ready to actually talk to a sales person I pulled into a Chevrolet dealer to see what was on the lot. I had settled on a used suburban since they were even bigger than the land Cruiser. I was probably imagining holding fetish parties behind the blackened glass of that trucks cavernous interior. “hallooo , How has your truck been?” My head went thick and my blood pressure dropped as I recognized that wonderful accent. “I see it’s time for me to try to get you into something new.”