I AM A MEMBER OF AN IMMORAL SUBCULTURE

She brings one knee back, slowly peeling her long patterned sock down her leg until the pale skin of her heel comes into view. The final few inches of the removal reveals her blush pink soles and toes, a shining black perfectly painted across her nails to match her fingers. After doing much of the same with the other sock, she sticks her legs back out, feet in front of your face, and playfully kicks her legs back and forth.

“Happy now?? Like what you see?” she teases through giggles, “I could sell pics, right?”

She gets a bit too close to your face, slowly moving her foot as if to poke you, and you finally smack her legs away playfully, trying to stifle the blush of arousal on your face.

“Whatever,” you say, “can you quit it and help me pick something to watch already?”

You continue to scroll lazily, cooking show, house hunting show, dating show… you can’t focus, the chill of her feet cut through your (admittedly thin for the season) jeans and you can feel her shivering. You lift up your shirt slightly, and gesture to your stomach.

“Ok, go ahead.”

“What?” she looked genuinely confused.

“You can warm up on me, it’s fine.”

“What??” she sounded even more lost.

“I’m literally like a space heater, I do this all the time when I get cold hands so I’m sure it’ll work for feet, too. Plus you’re shaking like a leaf and it’s annoying.”

She continues to look at you, seemingly unsure if you have ulterior motives, until inching her feet closer to your stomach. You feel the intense, almost painful, cold shock as her feet make contact with the warmth of your torso until it evens out as the heat leeches to her frozen extremities. You try not to focus on how soft her feet feel on you, the slight wiggles she’s making, the soft sigh of contentment from the other side of the couch, the way her soles almost stick to your skin from the slight dampness left. She was right… you are a pervert, and you feel horrible. At least she doesn’t know, probably…

You continue to search, finally finding a shitty rom com to half pay attention to as you hang out with her. As the opening titles begin you flick off the lamp beside you, sending the room into darkness save the light from the TV, and settle back into the sofa, her feet readjusting to stay under your shirt. An upbeat pop song plays as the protagonist gets ready for her day, and you find yourself rubbing lazily along her legs in front of you. You both just watch in silence for a while.

“You must really like them, huh?”

You freeze.

“L-like what?”

“My feet?” she says, “What do you think it’s not obvious?”

“I-I-I don’t know what you’re t-talking about,” you spit out unconvincingly.

“Lol, ok sure, so you weren’t always checking out my feet whenever I wore sandals then?”

“I-I wasn’t-“

“Or what about the time you screenshotted my snap story after I got a new pedicure?”

“I didn’t know it-“

“Or how about the way you stared at me earlier when I took my socks off like you were watching porn? God, you were practically drooling!”

Oh god… had you been staring? You go silent at realizing you can’t remember anything but her slowly revealing each soft inch of her foot and… god you were staring. You feel embarrassment fill your chest and heat rising in your cheeks.

“I am so so sorry,” you say, not looking at her, “I-I don’t know what got into me, I really didn’t mean to-to-to leer at you! I just-I’m trying to say that- the thing is is that I-“

You’re cut off abruptly by the soft touch of cold skin on your cheek, moving your face towards her. It’s only when you’re looking at her fully you realize she has her foot on your cheek, a wry smile cracked at you.

“Hey, hey,” she says almost like soothing an animal, “I didn’t say I wasn’t into it.”

You stare at her, slack-jawed, completely at a loss for what to do. Before you can reply she takes her other foot and shoves your face back toward the screen.

“What did you-“

“Shhhhhhhhh,” she cuts you off, “just watch the movie, dork.”

You try to obey her, focusing back up as the girl on the screen spills a cup of coffee all over a guy with a chiseled chin and wavy hair, but she lets out a mischievous giggle. Suddenly you feel pressure, pushing the seam of your jeans on your crotch and rubbing slowly back and forth. You look down to see what you expected, no, what you hoped would be there: her foot, shining black nails pressing into you softly, the soft pink of her feet deepening to almost red at the pressure points.

“What are you-“

“Oh my god what did I just say?” she asks incredulously, lifting the opposite foot up to your face and sticking her big toe directly into your talking mouth, “Just watch and enjoy, don’t ruin a good thing, loser.”

She pulls you up by the toe in your mouth, not unlike a fish on a hook, so that you’re facing the screen once again, never once stopping the rhythm she rubs onto you. Your eyes glaze over, you no longer comprehend the movie, you don’t even understand why this is happening, but why ruin a good thing?

Steady pressure builds as she continues stroking you, alternating between her toes grazing across your crotch and a more steady pressure in a lazy rhythm. All the while she keeps her toes in your mouth, bringing them all one by one to your lips and demanding entry, not that you would refuse them. You taste her as she moves the ball of her foot towards your mouth, notes of saltiness but also something uniquely her. It reminds you of the way she smells, not her perfume but her, and it entices you to want more. Sticking out your tongue you lap at her, barely registering her protesting, giggles and… were those moans? God, she must me getting off on this too, you think.

A new energy fills you at the sounds of her pleasure, the thought of showing off for her sustaining you almost as much as the taste of her feet and the building heat in your core. She starts to fumble her feet at your belt and you understand her meaning, quickly removing the belt and pulling down your pants, your underwear soaked from her stroking.

“Hey,” she says, breathily, poking at the wet spot with her big toe, “these are pretty wet… maybe you should take ‘em off so I can warm you up.” Her toe pulling at your waistband.

Wasting no time you slide them off, exposing yourself to her gives you a shock of pleasure and you feel yourself leak out more. She slides both feet back down to you, focusing entirely on your crotch. As her speed begins to increase you curse and moan, wishing you had her toes in your mouth once again if just to stifle these pathetic noises.

“Oh, you’re so cute,” she coos, giggling softly afterwards, “you should see your expressions right now, it’s honestly really hot.”

“Oh, f-fuck you,” you barely manage to get out through a whimper.

“Awwwwwww, does it feel good? Do you like getting off to my feet?”

“Fuck *huff* off.”

“No I need you to say it, it’s not fun if you don’t say it.”

“N-no! I-it’s embarrassing…”

“Awwww, come on… it’s just me.”

You wait, feeling unable to say the words, until finally letting out a breath and whispering, “… I like it…”

“That’s more like it,” she glares at you, mouth curled into a wicked smile, as she speeds up her feet. She’s pulling more moans from your mouth, whispered “fuck”s, and pathetic whimpers as she builds pressure, pleasure radiating outward from your center.

“That’s it,” she says, “go ahead, baby, let it happen.”

The pressure builds as she strokes, the tension coming closer and closer to breaking the surface. You look at her, her face a mixture of mischievous wonder and intoxicating pleasure, a blush on her cheeks, and all of that pressure breaks through as waves ripple outward from your crotch. Pulsing electricity through your body travels back and forth in bursts that cause you to squirm. The rhythm slows as the aftershocks die down. You lay back, energy spent, her feet still laying in your naked lap.

“Oh my god,” she says, “so uhhh… I think I definitely might have a thing for feet too.”

Still panting your breath, you reply, “Funny enough I could tell.”

“What??? How?”

“Are you serious,” you limply tilt your head toward her, “you were literally moaning, like out loud?”

Now she goes a bright shade of blush, retracting her legs to hide behind her knees.

“Whatever, asshole…”

“Maybe we should try it sometime, for you?” you ask.

“Yeah…. maybe we should… dweeb.”