Afternoon Footsie

She swiped her hand at me and struck my in the face with a backhander.

"Stop it!" she ordered.

"Okay, okay. No need to knock my eye out."

"Did I hit you in the eye?" she asked.

"Yes," I lied as I covered my right eye with my hand.

"Serves you right."

"That's pretty heartless," I remarked as I uncovered my eye.

"Then stop being a pain."

"I'm not being a pain. I just want one little kiss. That one doesn't count."

"You're not kissing me."

"Please," I begged.

"No."

"Pretty please with sugar on top."

"You already tried that," she pointed out.

"Just let me kiss your foot," I continued the fruitless negotiation.

For the first time Claire did not say no. Of course she did not say anything. At first I thought she was just tired of putting up with my constant begging for one little harmless kiss that would not mean much of anything – and if she had just let me kiss her in the first place I would not be writing out this long, drawn out story, and you would be jerking off to some other story. She merely lay there absorbing more of good old Sol's bronzing rays.

"Just one little peck on the foot," I repeated.

She gave no response. I drifted over towards her legs.

"Just one tiny little kiss, just on the foot. Just let me kiss you there."

She lay still and did not make a sound or give any indication one-way or the other.

"If you don't say anything I'll take it as a yes," I said. "I'll kiss your foot. Okay? Well, okay, you're not saying anything so that means yes."

I stood up for the first time in a while. I got a chill as the water dripped off my body; my temperature must have come down a degree or two. I stood over Claire's legs just to one side of her body. She had very pretty legs; she had pretty feet too.

"Okay, here we go. I'm doing it." I paused. "Don't think I won't. I'm going to kiss your foot. Okay, you're giving me permission. Here it goes."

I leaned over, and without touching her with my hands I pressed my lips to the inseam of her right foot and gave her a long gentle smooch. Claire did not move. She did not kick me away as I had feared she might after the swipe she gave me minutes before. She just lay there expressionless.

"See, that was harmless. Pretty pleasant too, I'd bet. I can't see what the big deal was all about. You think I've got the cooties or something?"

She did not answer me.

"Claire. Claire. Hey Claire," I addressed her, but she acted as if I was not there. "Claire, guess what: I'm going to kiss your other foot too, just to balance things out. Okay?"

Still, she ignored me.

"Well okay. You know the rules. You didn't say no, so that means I can. Alright?" I paused for a reply that did not come. "Alright then. Here we go; I'm kissing the other foot."

I waded around her body to her left side. This time I cradled her foot in my hand. I held her by the heel with one hand and by the ball of the foot with the other. I again gave her foot a long, slow kiss on the inseam, but this time followed it with two quick smooches: one just below her toes and one just near her ankle.

"There, you see how harmless that was?" I asked.

She just lay there. I knew she was alive; I could see her breathing.

"Hey, this whole ignoring me thing is pretty lame. If you don't answer me I'll kiss your foot again. Say something."

She said nothing.

"Say something."

She said nothing.

"Hey, ding-a-ling, I'm talking to you. I'll kiss your foot again."

She said nothing.

"Okay, you asked for it. I'm kissing your foot again."

I braced both of her feet together gently, then alternately kissed them: left, right, left right.

"How about that, I kissed them both. Two for one."

She didn't flinch.

"Say something."

She said nothing, so I kissed her feet again. This time I kissed each foot three times.

"Say something."

She said nothing. I kissed her right foot the length of her inseam and down to her arch.

"Hey," I said and kissed her left foot. "Say something to me."

I kissed her left arch. Next I alternated syllables with random kisses to her feet.

"Say..."

Kiss.

"...some..."

Kiss.

"...thing...'

Kiss.

"...to..."

Kiss.

"...me..."

Kiss. Kiss. Kiss. Kiss. Kiss.

"This is getting ridiculous. You're like that Genesis song:and there's no reply at all." I sang a few bars while kissing her around the ankle of her left foot.

"Is anybody listening? Oooooh. And there' no reply at all."

"Claire. Hey Claire. Hey, beautiful woman floating around in my uncle's pool with me kissing her feet, are you listening?"

She refused to acknowledge my presence. My erection was now straining. I cradled her feet and caressed them gently.

"You have pretty pink toenails," I complimented her.

"Thank-you," she said.

"Wow, finally a response. Did I wake you up?"

"No, I've been awake."

"Why did you paint your toenails hot pink?" I inquired into her feminine reasoning, if there is such a thing.

"Just for fun."

"They're pretty," I complimented her again.

"Kiss them," she said.

"Really?"

She did not answer.

"Do you really want me to kiss them?" I asked again. I cradled her feet and ran my fingers around her toes. "I will."

She remained silent.

"Okay, this time you explicitly asked for it."

I kissed the pretty pink toenail of her big tow first. Claire had painted all of her nails impeccably well. There was no paint on her skin, and she had stayed within the lines. In all I felt it was a very professional job.

"You did a very professional job," I said.

I kissed the nail of each toe on her right foot from the largest to the smallest. Then I went backwards, kissing the smallest to the largest. Without pausing between feet, I kissed the nail of her left big toe and proceeded to kiss all of the nails on her left foot. Then I kissed them in rhythm going along all ten toes back and forth several times. Claire, for her part, merely lay on the raft and said nothing to me.

"How is that?" I asked after several minutes of kissing her toes.

"Good boy," she answered.

"Do you want me to keep it up?"

Just between you and me, that last line was not meant as a double entendre; I was hard. I don't know if the humor of that statement was lost on her, but she did not answer me.

"Again with the silence. I thought we made a breakthrough. You know the rules: if you stay quiet it means yes."

She remained silent.

"Okay, here we go again."

I stopped cradling her feet. Now I just circled around from left to right kissing her feet at random. I kissed the inseam of one foot. I kissed the arch of the other. I licked her big toe. I kissed her ankle. I sucked on her pinkie toe. I kissed the bottom of her feet: first the balls of her foot, then the underside of her arch, finally her heel. I kissed the side of her foot. I kissed between her toes.

"Are you enjoying this?" I asked.

You already know what happened – she did not answer me.

"If you stay quiet it means you're enjoying this. Are you enjoying this?" I waited for the answer, but it did not come. "Okay, you didn't say anything, so that means you like it."

I kissed her feet back and forth. Whatever I kissed first on her right foot, I then kissed on her left foot. I kissed her big toes first, her inseams next, her ankles third, and finally her arches. Then I kissed the underside of each of her toes starting from the pinkie toe on her left foot and kissing each of the ten in order. I licked the arch of her right foot then followed that by kissing the tip of each toe; I repeated the attention on her left foot.

Standing by her feet, I held her left heel with one hand and cupped some water in my free palm and poured it over her toes. The small rivulets of water dripped down her feet towards her ankles and rolled off into the pool water. I ceremoniously poured one handful of water after another on each foot.

"You're standing in my sun," she said.

"O, pardon me. Shall I turn you around, your highness?"

"Yes, make me face the other way so I can even out."

I turned her body so the sun could reign down on her from the other side. I stood by her for a minute or two holding the raft in place and pretty much just admiring her body.

"I'm going to swim a few laps," I said, preparing to submerge again.

"No," she said. "Stay right there."

"Why?"

"I want you to hold the raft so I don't float around. I want to even out on this side for a while."

"I want to swim a few laps and cool off."

"No," she demanded. "Hold the raft in place. Do what I tell you."

I did what she told me. I held the raft in place. I do not know why I did what she told me. I do not know why I complied with an instruction given to me in a rather rude manner – yes I do. So do you. I held the raft in place because I started crossing that line I mentioned earlier. I had placed myself in the untenable position of erotically kissing the feet of a woman with whom I was not already romantically involved. If she were a lover things would have been clearer to me; we would have been playing a sex game. All of the foot worship would have been just some amusing foreplay leading to a sexual encounter. However she was a pal, a buddy, and that has left me wondering just what position I placed myself in.

Do you see how that works? First I took the rope and tied the noose. Then I put the noose around my next. Guess what comes next. Go on; guess.

I was getting hot; by hot I mean that the temperature was beginning to get to me. Even standing waist-deep in water, I was over heating from the sun beating down on my chest. The glare from the light reflecting off the water was playing hell with my rods and cones as well, but I did not turn away from looking at Claire's body.

"Hey Claire, can I put on your Ray-Bans?" I requested.

"No," she answered.

"Thanks," I said sarcastically.

"They're too small for you."

"Are you saying I have a big head?"

"Yes," she answered.

"That's not all that's big, baby," I said like a sleazy lounge lizard.

"Shut up." There was a slight disgust in her voice.

I had to cool off somehow, so I sank to my knees again and held the raft in place.

"Don't splash me," she said as I sank to my knees.

"What are you talking about? I didn't even make a ripple."

I looked at her body from the side and decided to press my luck. I leaned forward and kissed her calf. Claire instantly slapped the back of my head and pointed her finger in my face.

"No!" she exclaimed. "That is not my foot. Don't do it again."

There was a commanding harshness in her voice. It was the way you would reprimand a puppy for peeing on the carpet, or a child for drawing on the wall with his crayons. I must have upset her because she got off the raft and walked over to the steps leading out of the pool.

"Sorry," I apologized. "Geez, don't get so upset."

"I'm not upset," she said. There was no harshness in her voice now. "Go get me something to drink."

"Do you want another bottle of water without a cup?" I asked sarcastically.

"No. I want a soda."

"Do you want some ice?" I asked as I walked up the pool stairs.

"Yes, and put something in it."

"What? You want me to spike it? You want me to slip you a Mickey?"

"What do you have?" she asked.

"I don't know. I'll have to check the liquor cabinet."

I went into the house as Claire lay out on the lounger she had claimed earlier. The sun was moving over a large maple tree in a neighboring yard, and her chair was beginning to be shaded by the tree. I thought she may have had enough of the sun for the day and wanted to cool off in the shade.

I took some ice from the freezer and filled a large plastic cup. It was one of those oversized summer cups that hold about twenty-four ounces. I poured some cola into the cup until it covered the ice. Checking the drinks cabinet from where I retrieved the ice bucket earlier, I found some spiced run and poured a few ounces into the cola.

I brought Claire's drink to her as she was sitting on a different lounge chair.

"Move my chair into the sun over there," she said, pointing to a sunnier part of the yard unaffected by the maple tree. It was a friendly half-request, half-instruction that she was used to making and that I was used to hearing.

I obliged her by picking up the large wooden Adirondack chair and struggling to move it into the sun. She took a sip from the cola and rum; I grunted as I carried the heavy chair to a more suitable position for tanning.

"Oh, stop your grunting," she said.

"Hey, this thing is heavy."

"That's okay. You're strong."

"Why don't you tell me I'm handsome too," I said, and I positioned the chair to face directly into the sun.

"You're tall," she replied.

"Great," I rolled my eyes. "I guess that's the best compliment I'm getting from you today."

"Yes, it is," she teased me.

"How is it?" I motioned to her drink with my head.

"That's good; it's sunnier over here."

"I mean how is the drink."

"Oh that? You did a good job, dumb-dumb."

Claire took a few more sips of her cocktail, then she lay down on the lounger to resume tanning. I was beginning to wonder if she would one day fully prune from overexposure. For the time being I was content to admire her bronzed flesh and indulge her desire to continue tanning herself.

"Bring the radio over here," she requested.

"Sure. Do you want anything else?" I asked, stressing the word 'any.'

"Yes, come over here and clean my feet. They got dirty from the deck."

"You're a spoiled brat. You know that?"

"Yes," she smiled. "But you don't care."

"Yes I do. Stop being a brat."

"No, you like it when I'm bratty." She was smiling so that her every tooth shined in the sun.

"You're annoying when you're bratty."

"No I'm not. I'm cute." She smiled even more.

"Yeah, you're right," I conceded.

I brought the radio to her. I then got the ice bucket and filled it with water from the pool. If my uncle had ever seen me doing that with his cocktail bucket he would have ripped me a new orifice. I poured the water over her feet to clean off the sand and dirty they had picked up from the stone deck.

"Good enough?" I asked.

"No. Do it again." Claire smiled whimsically at the sky as she ordered me to repeat the cleansing.

I got another bucketful of water and poured it out deliberately over her feet one palm-full at a time. I pushed my fingers between each of her toes to make sure that all the sand and dirt was gone. Finally I poured the remainder of the bucket over her feet.

"How's that?"

"Fine. Dry them for me." She smiled again.

I could sense that she was making a game of this. We were playing a game that I had initiated, but she was making the rules. If it was a competition, she was winning. If it was not a competition, I was simply getting my nose rubbed in my own mess.

"I'll get a towel," I said.

"No. I want them blow dried." She giggled.

"Blow dried? How the hell am I supposed to blow dry them?"

Claire turned away from the sky to look at me. Pointing at her feet she said one word.

"Blow."

I kneeled down at the foot of the lounger, cradled her feet in my hands, and blew gently on them. I took one breath after another blowing on her pretty pink toenails. I blew on her inseams and her arches. I had to move my head all around her feet to blow on them from every angle.

As the combination of my breath and the sun had dried her feet, I brought them up slightly to my mouth and kissed each foot again. I placed her feet back on the lounger and tried to caress her legs beyond her ankles. Once again she changed her attitude and immediately reprimanded me.

"Stop!" she ordered as she pointed at me again. "Those are not my feet."

"I'm sorry," I apologized.

I was beginning to wonder if I was pissing her off too much. Claire can run hot and cold, and her attitude can change at the slightest infraction. I knew from experience that she would just get up and walk out if she were not getting her way or if she were getting too aggravated. It was one of the bonuses of not being her boyfriend: I did not have to put up with her more annoying personality traits. I could usually tell her to screw herself. Because we were not linked amorously that did not cause a problem. However, I did not want her to leave, so I backed off of touching anything but her feet.

"I'm sorry, Claire," I apologized and kissed her big toe. "I won't do it again."

"You'd better not."

"I won't," I said. Then I kissed her ankle.

"Don't upset me," she said calmly.

"I won't; I promise," and I kissed her pinkie toe.

"I like this drink," she said as she took another sip.

"Thank-you." I wrapped my mouth around her little toe.

I held her feet and sucked on her little toe. I looked up at her, but she was not paying attention to me. I sucked on her toe and licked it when I got to the tip of her nail. It was only the littlest toe, so there was not much sucking to do. Still, I enjoyed having that least little part of her in my mouth. My penis was hard and straining against my wet swimming trunks.

We spent more time in that position: she absorbing the warmth of the sun and I kneeling at her feet sucking alternately on her toes and giving them each a little lick or a smooch after taking them into my mouth three or four times each. I caressed her feet and drew my fingers around her ankles in circles. I brushed the back of my fingers along the bottoms of each foot.

"Don't tickle me," she said.

"Does that tickle," I said as I brushed the back of my finger along her arch.

"No."

"So I can do this," I said as I brushed all four fingers along the bottom of her foot.

She remained silent.

"Do you want me to do this or not."

She ignored me.

"If you don't say anything it means you want me to keep it up. Do you want me to keep it up?"

She did not say anything. Claire just smiled and sipped the rest of her drink. For the next half hour I caressed her feet; she lay in repose silently.

The sun finally began to set over the brick wall that separated my uncle's property from his neighbor's. The shade drew in on us covering me first. As it did, Claire lost interest in being outside. By the time the shade was halfway up her body she decided to go home.

"Okay that's enough," she said.

I ignored her and continued to brush the under sides of her feet with the back of my fingers.

"Stop."

Now I played the game she had been playing. I did not respond to her. It's funny, but she did not seem interested in playing.

"I said stop." She pushed me away with her foot and knocked me off the lounge chair.

"If you wanted me to stop, all you had to do was say so," I said.

Claire stood and began to collect her belongings from around the deck. I took her place in the lounger and watched her as she put on her shorts and blouse. She put on her wedge sandals then walked around in them retrieving her things from around the yard. She filled her bag with her things and walked over to the back entrance to the house.

"I have to go pee," she said like a little girl.

"Too much information," I replied.

She walked into the house ahead of me and went into the bathroom. Meanwhile, I gathered up the ice bucket, the water bottles, and the cup. I brought it all into the kitchen and placed them in the sink to be washed. As I stood in front of the sink running the hot water, I thought about what had been taking place between the two of us. I thought about how sexy it was to have played with her toes that afternoon. I also thought about how Claire had probably sensed that she had the upper hand, and how she had treated me that day.

"She slapped me, scolded me, reprimanded me, and kicked me," I murmured to myself. "Much more of this treatment and I'll ejaculate spontaneously."