Ashley

Ashley worked in a bar on the high street. I guess you could have called the place a shithole, but there was something endearing about the place. Maybe it was because the drinks were so cheap, or maybe it was because Ashley and her friends were there to serve you almost every night. It certainly wasn't because of the decor or the clientele, who consisted mainly of cokeheads and football fanatics.

I'd known Ashley for years. Why tonight though, of all nights, had we finally decided to have more than a conversation that consisted of small talk, I couldn't tell you. I can't say I'd ever paid her that much attention myself. I'd always found her attractive, but had never felt any indication that she was at all interested in me.

I'm doing Ashley a disservice, however. She'd been working at this shithole bar for as long as I could remember. She was pretty quiet, but could hold her own against the tide of customers, often deflecting their clumsy passes or inappropriate comments with ease. She always had a cheeky expression, or a glint in her eye, that gave off the impression that she was in on a joke that everyone else was not privy to. She always seemed amused by her surroundings, but almost because she possessed some sort of higher understand of them, or maybe she just had thicker skin than I gave her credit for.

I don't know why I did it, but tonight, as our eyes locked during my drinks order, I ordered two, one for me and one for her. It was a double Jack and Coke, not something I was particularly fussed on but it seemed like the right choice to make at the time.

I told her it looked like she had been having a tough night, which brought a smile, and a small response from her that I failed to catch over the thumping music. I thought no more about it and I said my goodbyes, although when I returned to my group of friends, I was pleased to see that she had popped a small straw into the drink and was giving it a little sip during the lull in serving customers.

By around 1am, most of the punters had faded away into the night, including most of my friends. The bar officially closed at midnight, but regulars were allowed to stay after hours as long as the drinks kept getting bought. The guy who ran the bar often showed up at the end of the night, and stayed well into the early hours talking to his customers, and pouring the drinks. The girls behind the bar clocked off one by one as the tide stemmed, and most would stay behind for a few drinks themselves.

At was at this point that Ashley took a spare seat beside me and thanked me for the earlier drink. "I needed that", she laughed.

Handing me another Jack and Coke - which she had obtained gratis, of course - we caught up.

I guess you're busting to read what Ashley looks like. I've been a bit sparse on these details so far, admittedly. She was a short, slim brunette, with dead straight black hair that fell down her back. She had sparkling eyes that always betrayed some glint of mischief, with narrow cheek bones and a large thin nose, which if anything suited her well. She must have been in her mid to late twenties, but she was one of those girls that never looked a day over 21.

She wore an off-white body-hugging t-shirt and low waisted skinny jeans of a washed out blue, which showed off the subtle shape of her hips, a nice feature on a girl as slim as her. She kept things simple, though, with a little makeup and a plain silver bracelet clasped around her right wrist. Along with the simple black pumps on her feet, which she wore without socks, this was Ashley from head to toe.

Anyway, one drink led to another and then to another, as we chatted endlessly about all sorts of shit. I'll spare you the boring details, but once she'd bummed a ciggie off one of her mates and disappeared outside for five minutes, I began to think to myself - is this going where I think it's going? I figured I'd best go easy on any more whiskies just in case.

She came back inside, finished her drink and asked me what my plans were in regards to getting home, as it was 3am after all. It was difficult to contain a smile when I replied - possibly with absolutely zero conviction whatsoever - asking if she knew which taxi firms were still running at this hour.

"You can crash on my couch, if you like," she offered, "I only live 5 minutes away."

I made the usual gesticulations: "no, don't be daft!", or "nah, don't worry, I don't want be a pain.", but she waved them away.

As if it were our cue to leave, a fat bloke in a Manchester United top dropped a whole tray of jäger bombs onto the floor, sending the sickly liquid everywhere and the tray clattering madly on the tiles, to much raucous applause.

She grabbed my arm. "Come on," she said, "let's go, before my boss makes me clean all that up."

Like that we were out in the street. Ashley had another cigarette. She told me that she didn't usually smoke, but would have one or two with a drink now and then.

Her flat was less than the five minutes away that was promised, which was great because it was fucking freezing outside. She lived above a Turkish barbers, on the second floor, in a simple apartment that she shared with one of her friends. I asked whether her friend was home as she fumbled with the key in the lock, but she told me that her flatmate worked nights as a nurse in the local hospital, so wouldn't be home until after 6am.

For two single people who constantly worked until late (or is that early?), the flat was in decent shape. Ashley turned the heating on using a dial on the wall and threw her keys and phone down onto an Ikea coffee table.

"Have a seat," she said, pointing to a beaten up dark brown leather sofa. She smiled softly and offered me a drink, but I opted for a water.

I almost lost myself in the leather sofa. It had seen years of use, and the seat almost hoovered me up. I kicked off my shoes and shouldered out of my jacket, when Ashley returned with a glass of water for me and a cup of tea for herself. Neither of us touched the drinks.

She sighed heavily and laid down on the sofa.

"I'll chill by here for a bit, then I'll leave you to it," she informed me.

"You crack on, its your house," I replied, and before I knew it, she'd slung herself fully onto the sofa, and had propped her feet up on my lap. I noticed the little black bows on the slim ballet pumps.

"Don't mind me, I'm just being lazy," she said, using her right foot to peel off the other shoe at the heel. It fell to the floor with a clatter. "Half the time, I lie down here and I don't even make it to my bed."

I bet you don't, I though darkly, wondering how many guys had been on this sofa before me.

"Would you?" She asked, rotating her right foot around at the ankle.

My breath caught in my throat, and I reached out for her remaining shoe as casually as possible. I took a hold of her tiny ankle with one hand, and gripped the shoe at the heel with the other, pulling it away and tossing it on the floor with the other.

Both of her tiny feet lay comfortably in my lap. They couldn't have been much bigger than a size 4 - a 5 at a push. She had tiny little arches, and her toenails were unpainted, trimmed neatly and uniform.

Then it hit me. The smell. Not an unpleasant odour, but a faint whiff from where the poor dainty things had been stuffed inside those pumps all day. There was a primal sweetness to it that sent my heart racing; a delicate, yet earthy, feminine smell.

I thought about how many miles she covered, just wandering around behind that bar. I thought about her tiny toes, all bunched up inside her pumps, and how good it must have felt to throw her feet up and slide them off.

I took her nearest foot in my hands and squeezed. My left hand had the ball of her heel, and the fingers on my right worked into the fleshy sole beneath her toes. Ashley exhaled deeply, and saying nothing, she closed her eyes. That was as much approval as I needed to keep going.

I worked the flesh between my fingers, massaging her clammy skin, marvelling at her arches. I pulled at her tiny toes softly, one by one, wondering how they would taste after a whole day in those shoes.

I switched to the other foot, and she exhaled again as I squeezed down.

"I didn't realise how much I need this," she explained, "it feels amazing. I'm sorry if my feet smell."

She laughed, and I joined her.

"They don't," I told her, "you have very pretty feet."

She opened her eyes.

"You think my feet are pretty?" She asked, looking at me, then down at her feet in my hands, and then back at me again.

"Sure,"

She seemed uncertain.

"They're tiny, cute little things, what can I say?" I clarify, lifting up her left leg so that she can get a better look at her feet.

She wiggled her toes and chuckled. I let go of her leg, and she pointed her feet together in my lap, flicking her big toes against each other.

"I usually make more of an effort, please don't judge me," she said, "I like to paint my toes but its pointless, with working so often."

"What's your favourite colour nail polish?" I ask her, cringing immediately, realising that it might be an odd question to ask.

"Black," she said plainly, "or a dark purple. Keep it simple, isn't it?"

She paused for a second.

"You have a thing for feet then?" She asked, all straight-forward.

"Well, not really," I smiled, playing it down, "I just think you have cute feet."

"Not really?" She mocked, knowingly. She had that expression on her face again. That look that said she was in on the joke. "What's this about then?"

She pressed her soles flat to my lap. I was rock hard. There was no hiding it.

"I, uhh, "What can I say?"

She laughed, pulling her feet back and sitting up. She reached out for a hair bobble on the table, and pulled her black hair into a tight ponytail.

"Well, its bit different from guys pawing at my top before I've even shut the front door," she explained.

"I could do that instead, if you'd like,"

That got a smile, at least.

"Let me make it easy for you," she said.

She pulled her shirt off in one quick motion and let it fall to the floor. She sat there, next to me, in only her jeans. She had no bra on. She had a small chest; tiny mounds for tits, with tiny dark peaks standing to attention.

I don't want to overuse the word 'tiny', but everything about her was... tiny. Ashley was the definition of the slim, petit brunette next door.

She leaned in towards me and we kissed, long and slow. I placed a hand on her waist, and she broke off, climbing into my lap and straddling me. She pressed her face to mine and we kissed again, this time deeper, with tongues.

I let my hands run over her exposed body; along the ridges of her spine, the nape of her neck, the curve of her hips, and of course, handfuls of her tiny tits. I tweaked at her nipple, and she bit down on my lip. We continued like this for a few minutes, stopping only to laugh like idiots or catch our breath.

She leant back, arching her spine, for a breather if anything, and she gasped as I took one of her nipples in my mouth. I sucked at it gently, and teased out a bite. She tried to lean back in, I think to kiss my ear as I did this, but she ended up just breathing heavily.

"Condom," she said, finally.

Climbing off me, she scrambled out of the room. I unbuckled my jeans and slide them down around my ankles, before kicking them off. I heard banging and clanging as I sat there, stroking myself like a pornstar waiting for their cue.

Ashley shot back into the room and stood before me. Part of me wanted her to sit back on the crappy coffee table and offer up her tiny feet, but she unbuttoned her own jeans and slid her trousers and underwear off in one whole motion, which was impressive if nothing else. Stepping out of her pooled trousers, I could see that she didn't have a hair on her body. She was completely, totally bare. Along with her petit frame, it made her look so much younger than her age.

I expected her to get on her knees, but instead she again straddled me. I was kinda relieved, I wasn't sure how the fuck I would have gotten through a blowjob without cumming in the back of her throat.

We sat in what seemed like an eternity of silence as she fumbled with the condom wrapper. Eventually, as she got it open, she looked down and me with those big beautiful eyes.

"I've only got cherry, sorry," she said.

The smell of the artificial product reached me, but it could have smelt of anything for all I cared.

Her tiny fingers unrolled the condom down over my cock with ease. She ran her index finger up and down the length of me once or twice before kissing me deeply again. As our mouths locked, she gripped me at the base and lifted herself up slightly, before sliding back down. She groaned long and hard as my cock filled her, her tight hole adjusting around my shaft. Things slowed to a crawl as we adapted to each other's bodies.

I was surprised at how wet she was as she began to grind on me. She leant back, a hand on each of my knees, and moved slowly in a circular motion. My cock filled her completely. Between the expression on her face, and the little whimpers she exhaled, I couldn't tell if she was experiencing discomfort or intense pleasure, or some divine combination of both.

Her pace quickened, as did her breathing. I felt like I should do something, but she seemed to have everything under control so I let her lead. And lead she did, as she slid off me, and brought those cute little feet around, planting one on each side of my waist. For a second I wondered what the fuck she was doing, but she gripped me again and impaled herself on my cock.

The position of her squat allowed me to fill her to the hilt, and fill her I did, the first stroke bashing uncomfortably off her cervix.

"Jesus fucking Christ thats deep," she spat, lowering herself back onto me, this time with a little more caution.

However, she quickly built up a momentum and I was filling her to the hilt once again. Don't get me wrong, I'm no John Holmes, but I was in awe with wonder as to where she was putting all that cock.

"Fuck" she screamed.

I watched, mouth agape, as this tiny little brunette rode me. Her tiny tits dangled in my face as I looked down at my length disappearing inside her. I wanted to reach out and play with them, but I'd placed both of my hands on her pert arse, helping to guide her as she fucked me.

"Fuck," she spat, again.

With one hand grasping the back of the sofa, Ashely reached down with the other and rubbed furiously at her clit.

"Fuuuuuuuck!" she howled, losing her rhythm as she tried to keep it together.

I could feel her contracting around me, followed by a final wave of thick wetness as she started cumming. Her body shook and she moaned loudly with each thrust of her hips. Her pace slowed, and she began shaking even more so. I slid out of her as she fell into a pile next to me on the sofa, with her feet up on my legs again.

"Bloody hell," she said, laughing. She pushed a few stray hairs out of her face that had fallen from her ponytail.

I pulled the condom off and slung it to the floor.

"Was I too quick?" she asked, "it doesn't usually take me long."

I laughed.

"That was something else, Ash."

"Give me two minutes to catch my breath and I'll give you a blowjob," she offered, matter of fact. "I wish I had another cigarette."

She dabbed at my balls with her feet.

"There's a packet of fags on the little table by the side of me," I told her.

"Those aren't mine," she said.

"So? What harm will one do?"

She shrugged, and I threw her the packet, and a cheap plastic lighter that was next to it. I massaged her feet again as she sparked up. They were still clammy, I guess from being planted firmly on the leather sofa as we fucked.

"You really do like feet then, huh?" She asked, as she exhaled the smoke. She began rubbing the length of me with her right foot.

She may have came but I was still horny as hell. I thought fuck it, grabbing her left foot I lifted it to my face, and gently kissed at her toes. They still had that sweet, earthy smell. When she didn't object, I took her biggest toe in my mouth. I sucked at it gently, savouring the moment, before working my way down through her toes as she watched me, smoking in silence.

I put her foot back in my lap, and took a hold of the other. I lined them both up around my cock, first pressing them flat and and then cupping gently in the arches between her two feet. Using my hands, I moved her soles up and down.

"Like that," I said, "and you can forget the blowjob."

She said nothing, and obliged fully. I stiffened immediately, now that she had full control and moved up and down on me of her own accord. I leant back, and watched this tiny, petit girl. She watched me intently as I drank in her slim body, her slender, smooth legs, and those tiny, cute feet and toes working at me.

"Does that feel nice?" she asked.

"Yes," I said, stupified by the sensation.

She began to wiggle and flex her toes as her feet rose and fell around me.

"Do you want to cum on my feet?" Ashley asked, taking a long suck on her cigarette.

I managed a nod.

"Are you going to paint my toes for me?" she asked, laughing naughtily.

That was it. Thick ropes of cum shot out of me, the first two landing on her leg and on my chest, but the rest that followed covered her toes. She tightened her grip on me, squeezing out every last drop as it oozed over her feet, sliding in between her toes and dripping off onto my stomach.

As I grew soft, she lifted her feet into the air and admired the mess that I'd left. It started to run up her leg. She wiggled her toes as thick blotches of cum slid between them.

She smiled again, that crooked, know-it-all smile that wrinkled her nose.

"Well," she said, leaning forward and putting out her cigarette on the table, "there's a first time for everything."