I dread most dinner parties. Boring small talk with self absorbed individuals. Not my scene. But when my friend Will invites me, I go. He has the most interesting friends, and the best bourbon.
I arrived late from a long day’s work, ready to sit in the corner and sip Booker’s quietly until I faded into oblivion. The house was filled with people of all shape, sizes and ages. Like Will, I’m near 50. How he knew so many young, attractive people I’ll never know. I gave Will a hug at the door and made my way through the throng to his bar. Standing there was one of the most attractive young women I had seen in some time. She looked to be about 30. She had dark blonde hair which fell to the middle of her back, she was tall with large breasts and a healthy sized ass. She had a hippy vibe to her, cute glasses, dangling earrings, and a lose flowing dress that clinged to her breasts and thin waist but billowed to about a foot about her ankles. She was barefoot. I’m not Quentin Tarantino but something about her bare feet make my cock twitch.
“I can’t decide,” she said.
“Pardon?” I said.
“I can’t decide which I want to try,” she said looking at Will’s extensive bourbon collection.
“What do you like?” I asked.
She tilted her head, showing off her slender neck. “Something with some age on it… and strong…” She leaned in and brushed my chest lightly. “Suggestions?”
Several pours later, we found a quiet corner of Will’s house and sat side by side on a couch. The crowd around us was loud but we were in our own world. She leaned in close and I could smell vanilla on her skin. She had pulled her dress up and was sitting Indian style next to me. She has lovely calves. Her skin was like alabaster.
She turned on the couch and put her feet in my lap.
“Gimme a foot massage,” she said half jokingly.
Eager to oblige, I took her slender feet into my large strong hands and started to work the tension from her feet. She gave a small gasp, and hiked her long skirt higher up her legs exposing knees and thighs. I took this as an invitation to work my way up her lovely legs. First the calf, then the back of the knee. She lay back and her hand unconsciously grazed her own nipple. I could see it stiffen under the thin material of her dress.
I realized my cock was growing hard from this. The people standing around us seemed oblivious to our growing flirtations. She ground the foot I was not massaging into my crotch.
“Oh, you are a big boy,” she said. She bend the leg I was holding and her dress slid a little bit more up her thigh. She parted her leg exposing her inner thigh. Under the bunched up dress, I could see she was not wearing panties. Mostly in shadow, I could see a glisten of wetness on her delicate pink pedals. I took this invitation to run my hand slowly up her inner thigh. We locked gaze, her blue eyes on my green one, as we played this dangerous game of chicken. For all I knew the whole party could be watching us in our quiet corner on a couch. They all receded as my focus intensified. I could feel the strong muscles of her legs quiver as I marched closer to her pussy, hand under her dress. Her foot ground harder at my aching erection. She licked her lips, her breathing quickened.
Finally my fingers grazed her pussy, feeling first an abundance of slippery wetness, then warm folds of her lips, then a tight crevasse. My thumb brushed her clit and she jumped. She sat up rapidly and I withdrew my hand. The fingertips were slick with wetness. She leaned in an kissed me hard on the lips. I could taste the bourbon on her tongue , as I imagine she tasted the same on mine.
She grabbed my hand with the wet fingers and sucked them greedily. She kissed me again and I could taste her sex on her lips.
“Let’s find a place to fuck,” I said.
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/u7nue9/dinner_party_pt_1_mf_public_light_foot_fetish