My first time [feet]

The year I turned 19, I spent the summer living in my parents’ spare room. Our neighbour across the street was Kay, a woman in her mid 30’s with a petite, athletic body and long, brown hair. Obviously, as a 19-year-old sex god, I was too cool to notice how attractive she was – I hardly ever got up early to watch her go for her morning run, gawking at the swell of her taut breasts and mouthwatering sway of her firm butt in their tight lycra. I certainly wouldn’t wait for forty-five minutes for her to come home again, skin glistening, ponytail swishing, discreet triangles of sweat gathering at her cleavage and buttocks…

I was alone in the house one warm day when, unexpectedly, she came and knocked on the door. Answering, I found her in cutoff shorts and a faded red bikini top, showing a lot more skin that I’m used to seeing that early in the morning. She asked me if I could come and help her move a couch, which, as a good neighbour, I immediately agreed to do, in a smooth and urbane way – I barely drooled at all. I have to admit that I was oogling a little as I followed her across the road.

Moving the couch wasn’t hard at all – she could probably have managed it alone. I was somewhat tongue-tied, but I couldn’t help noticing how self-assured she was in so little clothing. She didn’t seem self-conscious as she bent and lifted, her small breasts swinging assertively in the bikini top. I realized that I was pretty horny, but, then again, I was 19, so I always was.

Once we’d finished, she asked me if I’d like a beer and to watch a movie. She’d only recently moved into the neighbourhood, and the local gossips hadn’t quite figured out what her situation was – no kids, and a husband who kept shifting from the present tense to the past tense and back. I didn’t see any signs of anyone else living there.

She gave me a beer and we sat companionably next to each other on the couch. I couldn’t help taking surreptitious glances at her long, smooth legs, particularly when she kicked off her sandals and propped her feet up on the coffee table. I noticed how evenly tanned she was, from her toes to her hair, making me daydream briefly about her sunning her nude body in the back garden. Not having really started to understand my own sexuality, I was surprised to notice how pretty her feet were – long and slender, with a smooth, pronounced arch and straight, well-manicured toes. What colour were they, anyway? A dark red? Black?

“Crimson Passion,” she said, exploding my testosteronal fog.

“I’m sorry?” I blurted out.

“My nail polish – Crimson Passion. You’ve been staring at my feet for fifteen minutes,” she said, with a teasing tone.

I couldn’t say anything, all of the blood in my brain having fled either to my face, or, surprisingly, my groin.

“It’s okay. My husband liked to look at them too.” She stretched her arms up above her head, presenting her breasts. “Would you like to see them closer?”

Without waiting for permission, she swivels lithely on the couch, dropping her heels gently in my lap. “You like feet?” she asks, with a sly smile. I stutter something about how I never thought about it. She lazily rubs one foot with the other. I’m entranced by how sleekly the arch of one foot fits onto the top of the other, and at some animal level of my brain I can *sense* how it would feel for them to rub parts of my body. My body, incidentally, has stopped waiting for my brain, and has raced forward to arousal. The weight of her heel is resting on my shaft, which is growing heavy in my shorts. “Hello,” she says, not so much mocking now, but with a tinge of vulnerability. Looking at her, I see her looking back on the verge of seeming defensive, as if she’s been a little lonely and she’s reaching out.

Her foot starts moving on my erection, which neither of us can pretend isn’t there. I can’t speak. “Don’t worry,” she murmurs. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of.” She actually gives a little moan. “Mmmm.. definitely okay.” I feel like my erection is bent in half, constrained by my underwear. “We should definitely do something about that,” she says softly. “Go on, take them off. It’s okay.”

I awkwardly stand up and shimmy out of my shorts. Sex god that I am, no-one’s ever seen me naked and erect like this before. I worry that I don’t measure up to the guys I see in porn, but she’s so much more real and intensely present than the fake porn girls I normally jerk off to that I just try to quiet my brain. She’s looking at me with what I realize is hunger. She’s actually touching herself between her thighs, and then a thought strikes he. “Umm… this isn’t the right time of month to… do what I wanted to…” I’m dumb. It takes me a moment to get the message, but fortunately, my cock is too dumb to be intimidated. It just bobs stupidly as I look at her long, lean body.

There’s a moment of silence, then she reaches up with one foot and places it against the underside of my erection, and starts to move it. As the veteran of just a few inexpert handjobs in darkened cars, I’ve never had a human being touch me sexually in such an intoxicating way. Huge chunks of my sexuality are revealed in these moments, as I take her foot in my hands and thrust myself roughly against it. A typical 19-year-old, I have all of the stamina but none of the patience, and only one thing is important to me. Fortunately, she realizes what is going on, and pulls her foot back next to the other one on the couch. “Go on, it’s okay,” she coos generously. It’s all I need to hear. In a moment, I’m on my knees in front of her, thrashing at my rigid erection until I explode messily over her feet, pumping thick white cum over them like a stamped-on toothpaste tube.

“Yes,” she says in a wisful voice as she reaches for some tissues. “My husband liked to do that, too.”

Source: reddit.com/r/sexystories/comments/pfcbw2/my_first_time_feet