My Gift to Mike

My name is Victoria. I'm writing to relate a true story. Yes, it's a foot fetish story. This one is a bit different - I suspect not what my reader's might expect of me. I really pray that at least some of you will forgive me for straying from my usual tales which are so raw and fiery and visceral.

This story begins as my others do - driven initially by my office girl, foot-teasing ways. And, yes, there's sexual intensity, I promise. But this story is more about love than simply sex. A person I still feel love for to this day.

So I may be missing my target audience this time. But I want to share this one regardless.

Be kind.

Here we go....

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I was working for a law firm. Pretty large place. At this point I was out of the military and I'd become a paralegal, so I worked closely with several attorneys.

One was a guy in his thirties named Mike. Mike was a foot guy.

Before I go on, I should describe the work environment a bit. It was a serious place, doing serious work. As it happens, they weren't messing around when it came to professional interpersonal expectations and standards. There was regular mandatory training in professional ethics and anti-sexual harassment - all that. Usually just "required-reading" PowerPoints but sometimes in-person group training. Apparently they'd experienced an ugly harassment incident involving one of the firm's partners which had ended in an expensive and not very quiet settlement.

So the atmosphere was a bit constrained.

But people are still people. Forced to restrain their wants and desires, the usual "tells" - like foot guys glancing down as they do - or word choices that may be construed as flirting - all that stuff - it's still there. It's just driven underground a bit. Yet, oddly, with each employee playing their understood, proper role, everyone's personal "radar" becomes hypersensitive at detecting little deviances from expected norms.

Wait, was he flirting? Did he just glance at my shoes - again? Nah, no way. Not here. Right?

So the kind of work-atmosphere I'm struggling to describe can actually magnify the effects of otherwise-normal interactions, occasionally resulting in surprisingly intense sexual tension.

But I don't want to make the place sound like some dreary gulag. The people were great. There was plenty of humor, plenty of chit-chat. All I'm also saying is, you weren't gonna hear, "Hey baby, you look great in that outfit!" None of that nonsense. So it was a good, healthy work environment, but "professional."

So back to Mike. My Mike.

We'd slowly become friends. I can't recall anyone in my life being so easy to talk to. I routinely cycled by his office two or three times a day to discuss work tasks or issues but we usually took time to chat about non-work stuff. Maybe that'd last five minutes or so. Whatever. Adds up. But there were some times that we talked for an hour. We talked about, well, anything that popped into our heads - our personal lives, office politics, childhood memories...whatever.

Mike had a lovely wife, Patricia, and a couple kids.

He was good-looking but didn't give off any kind aura of arrogance. It was like he was oblivious to his attractiveness. Maybe 6' 1", I dunno. Not some hunky athlete but, like me, he worked out to take care of himself. Trim. Fit. An open, handsome, honest-looking face.

Over the course of months, we talked about everything in our lives. He really loved his wife and was so proud of his kiddos. Just a super-decent guy. We were friends.

It took me longer than usual to detect his foot fetish.

I'd become an office foot tease a few years prior and I outright delighted in tormenting the foot guys. (By the way, if you want to understand how that came to be, you should read my stories chronologically as I've posted them.)

I'd come to understand that certain men regard the sight of my feet as outright nudity. My feet and perfectly pedicured toes, cradled in strappy heels that accentuated my high arches - all that good stuff - could grab the attention of a true foot guy as forcefully as if I walked up to them topless with my tits on display. A foot guy would understand what I'm saying. Nudity. Right in the office. It's like infrared light, undetectable by most but somehow a foot guy sees in that wavelength. I'll stop trying to explain it...

But I didn't set out to torment Mike. If he looked, that was ok. I was fond of Mike, platonically so, but genuinely fond. If he liked getting away with looking at my feet, well, that was my gift to him.

On those semi-rare occasions where we'd talk at great length, he'd just go on and on about Patricia - to the point where, hell, even I had her on a pedestal. She honestly sounded awesome. I reveled in his kid's accomplishments - I mean, they weren't over-the-top super-achievers but they were doing good in their studies and their activities. He was so proud, obviously a devoted dad. I was happy for his wife and kids - and for Mike...

My friend, Mike.

And then one day, my Mike was cloudy. Something was wrong.

I just came out and bluntly asked what was going on? He tried to play it off.

I got him to look at me. I stared at him hard and said, "Mike, what is it?"

He flushed noticeably. Were his eyes beginning to well up?

He said, "Close the door Victoria."

I did and sat back down.

He said flatly - no emotion, "Patricia has been sexting with her old college boyfriend."

I was stunned. Tunnel vision briefly.

Then, empathy.

"Oh Mike, I as so so sorry. Come here."

I stood and so did he and we hugged.

We held one another for what seemed like forever. I felt sorrow for him - real empty-gut sorrow - but as the moment lengthened I slowly became lost in his embrace, in his arms for the first time ever. It was a little intoxicating, the physicality.

He absently kissed the top of my head - I doubt he even meant to - then said, "Oh Victoria, I don't know what to do. It just fucking hurts and I'm empty and I'm lost. I'm drifting. It's like I've become untethered from what made me solid. I don't know what to do."

Then - a few warm tears fell onto my upturned face, falling from his cheeks down to mine.

I gently kissed away his tears. I so softly kissed his closed, moist eyes, tasted his salty tears on my lips.

I told him it would be ok. It will be ok, Mike. I'm so sorry.

Then silence as we continued holding one another.

Eventually, we broke contact and sat back down, he in his chair, I in mine.

He looked at me, saying nothing for a long moment.

I said again, "Mike, I am so sorry..."

"Victoria, thank you. Just...thank you for being...you."

I flushed a little. "Mike, if I could make this go away - I'd do anything - you know that right?"

Long pause.

Hesitantly, he then said, "Would you let me confess something to you. About you?"

Oh my god, this might be...what? I just nodded.

"Look, I'm really vulnerable right now. I mean, I do still have some perspective though - despite everything. I understand where I'm at and I understand what I'm about to tell you is dumb and wrong and shouldn't be said but I just don't care. I just don't even care. Can I tell you what I really feel about you?"

Gulp! "Ok."

"Victoria, where to begin?"

Another long silent moment as he collected himself...

"Remember I told you about the vacation I took with Pat and the kids - the one to Spain? The little villa we had to ourselves, overlooking the Mediterranean Sea?"

I remembered.

"When I think of that setting, the perfect weather, the perfect house, the stunning view - it was just that...perfect. Over the last couple months or so, I've found myself returning in my mind - again and again - to that perfect place - but there's no Patricia, no kids."

A pause - our eyes locked.

"It's you. I'm there with you."

"I'm sitting on the couch. It's dusk, the sunlight getting low. I look over at you. You're in the kitchen, cooking something. We make eye contact - and oh my god Victoria - the love I feel in that fleeting little moment - oh my god."

He was crying softly. Mike's crying. He collected himself somewhat and when on...with me absolutely struck dumb, moved way beyond words.

"As we've come to know each other Victoria, I've resisted facing up to how I feel about you. But now all I wanna do is unburden myself... I think you're perfect. Yeah, I understand that nobody's perfect. But we all get to decide for ourselves what we think is funny or wise or beautiful...or perfect. It's subjective. And for me, you're the perfect woman."

He continued..."I mean, you're sooo beautiful...but Victoria, it's not just that - you're funny, you're smart, you're warm and kind. I just love everything about you."

Oh my god, I'm just weeping, loving him, loving him, loving him as he bared his soul.

"Look, I'm not coming on to you - believe it or not. I'm not gonna try and run away from my problems...... I have to face them. I would never abandon my responsibilities. Please don't misunderstand. I'm sorry to have said ANY of this to you. It was unfair. Please don't let this ruin our relationship."

"It won't, Mike. It's fine. I understand."

That pause again. Eyes locked.

I said, "And, I love you too."

Tears blurring my vision. What else was there to say? I got up and left. Went straight to the restroom a couple doors down from his office. I cried silently in that restroom stall for awhile. I eventually got it together and went back to work...faking work really...a zombie, off in another place, far away...

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Later that same day, I went back to Mike's office. He seemed ok, a little better.

It was late. If there was anyone else around I wasn't aware of it.

I shut his door and sat down.

He looked at me - he seemed a bit drained. It had been a rough day.

"Mike, I meant what I said and I assume you did too."

Softly, "I did, Victoria."

"Mike, I understand I'll only ever be your friend - that we're not gonna have any kind of future together. I didn't want you to worry that I might end up losing my mind in some schoolgirl fantasy. I understand. I get it, ok?"

"Ok."

I think he appreciated that I'd said that but maybe he was also disappointed that I'd said that.

"So I have a confession too and the reason I'm going to share it is because I want you to do something that's just for us. Ok?"

"I thought I knew most everything about you, Victoria. What's your confession?"

"Well, I know that you are what I'd refer to as a foot guy."

"Uh...ok, but that doesn't sound like you're making a confession."

"Well, Mike, I've fantasized about you doing things to my feet." His eyes widened in reaction.

I pressed on, "Does Patricia...uh...indulge you?"

"I, I get what you're asking and no, that's not a thing with us."

I began unstrapping my heels.

"Victoria, yeah, I do have a foot thing. Thought I was hiding it. So that's embarrassing. But, yeah,...you...well, it's just another way in which I think you're perfect. Those perfect feet... It's been a long day and I'm emotionally spent so I'll just say it. I've thought of your toes so many times when I..."

Both my shoes were off, Mike's eyes riveted to his friend Victoria's little feet.

"Wow. To be openly looking at your feet without having to hide it. You have no idea...But what exactly is happening here?"

"I'm giving you a gift, Mike. Something Patricia can't give you. Please accept this. Please."

His normal well of self-restraint had run dry. He really was vulnerable. I was doing this for him but, honestly, I was also very much doing this for me. I was head over heels in love. The things he'd confessed. The beauty with which he expressed them. I didn't have beautiful words to give him. But I had this...

I put my feet up on the corner of his desk.

Softly, quietly, I simply said, "Go ahead."

And he did. He began.

He moved his handsome face over the top of my foot, grazing my smooth white skin lightly with his semi-open lips. Then my arches, the tips of my toes.

His tongue came out, darting between my toes, his low guttural moans filling his office.

I sat marveling at his hunger. He sucked my toes hungrily. It was divine.

This went on for some time before he transitioned to taking my whole foot deep into his mouth. My god, he was passionate. So good...

There is nothing hotter to me than seeing a man suck my whole foot like that. It's an emulation of cocksucking and it drives me absolutely up the wall with passion.

"That's it Mike."

"Do it."

"Suck it in and out."

"Suck it like I suck cock."

His eyes widened in shock and delight. I fucking love hearing myself say that. Triggers instant electricity in my pussy.

He sucked. It was exactly what I wanted. I let it go on for a bit. Then...

"Mike, stand up."

No hesitation. I reached for his zipper, his pants constraining the evidence of his arousal.

Boom. And there it is. Seven-ish inches. Nice thickness. Mushroomy head. Just really nice.

And again, I simply said, "Go ahead."

Again, no hesitation. He began rubbing his stone-hard dick on my feet. It looked absolutely gorgeous in contact with my pretty feet. He smeared his hot pre-cum all over.

I then began a slow, rthymic foot job, concentrating on his cockhead and prick, using my toes more than my arches.

"Oh, that's perfect Victoria." His favorite word again.

Eventually, he came. A good amount.

"Get it between my toes."

He did.

When he finished squeezing out the last drop, I pulled my toes to my mouth. I tasted Mike. It was divine. I licked and I sucked. For him. For me. Our eyes locked.

Once it was all gone, swallowed, I stood up and kissed him deeply, giving him a taste of himself. If you're gonna be my guy you can't be squeamish about cum. He melted into me.

I then looked into his eyes and said, "I love you. I really love you. But I understand I can't have you. It's beyond bittersweet. It hurts. But we had this. And I won't pressure you - ever - but if you want more, I am yours. Understand?"

"Yes...And I love you too, my Perfect."