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Podiatric Passion |
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The key to my
apartment door wouldn't work. I couldn't get in touch with the landlord so I called a
locksmith. "Someone has been messing with the this lock, young lady," the locksmith reported. "With tools. Possibly to gain entry. I'll get it open but you better check for anything missing or out of place." The guy was huge. He reminded me of a big old bear. But he had a kind smile. A cuddly big old bear. "Yes, I should do that," I responded. It didn't seem at first that anything had been taken or disturbed. But then I looked in my closet. Some of my shoes were missing. A lot of shoes. I'm not Imelda Marcos but I do have a nice assortment. Or did. "I'm calling the police," I said to the locksmith." I did. "They indicated they'd send an officer over within the hour to investigate," I reported. "Maybe I could change the lock for you, miss?" the locksmith asked. "Well, I don't have much money. I'll have to talk to the landlord first. But I think he may be out of town. He travels a lot." "Oh, don't worry, miss. Perhaps I could do it for free. Maybe... uh... uh... if... uh...?" "What? What?" "You are extremely attractive. I can... uh... see your nipples right through that halter top. You must... uh... not... uh... be... uh... wearing... a... uh... bra." "No, I'm not wearing a bra. It's too dang hot. And quit stuttering, dude." "I'll try. You are somewhat intimidating. I... uh... bet you have great tits." I couldn't help but laugh. He said it so matter-of-factly and not like he was hitting on me. "I've been told that," I responded. I think the fact that I didn't rebuke him kept him pursuing the matter. "Could I see them?" "Huh? I don't know about that. What? You think I just go around flashing my boobs to strangers?" I couldn't help but think about how Jenny and I got naked and naughty at that bar on National Nude Day. "Just a peek. Please. I have this thing, this obsession, with breasts." "Most men do, don't they?" "Not like me. I hardly think about anything else. When I download porn on my computer I edit the pictures so all I have is breasts. Tits, tits, and more tits. Every size and shape you could possibly imagine." "You should see a doctor or something." "My brother is a doctor. He has the same problem I do. But at least his job satisfies his obsession to some extent." "Oh. What's his specialty?" "Implants and that sort of thing. He lets me see the 'before' and 'after' pictures." "I'd say you guys are sick but I don't know that a fetish like that is all that weird. I have a close friend who has a panty fetish. Other than that he is a very normal and nice person." I thought about Richard, the paraplegic who persuaded me to masturbate in my panties for him and participate in a few other of his fantasies. "So you'll give me just one little look? Then I'll put a real good dead bolt lock on your door. Nobody will get in without a great deal of difficulty." "Well... I guess." I lifted the halter top from the bottom and exposed my breasts. His jaw dropped. "Oh my God!" he blurted. "I have a camera. Do you think I could take a picture?" "I guess so. But not my face. Just these." I cupped them with my hands. He quickly fetched the camera from his tool box and clicked off several pics. Then he just stood and stared at me, drooling. "Okay, I know what you want. You can touch them. For one minute. That's it. I'm watching the clock. And I want you to put locks on the windows." "Oh my God, Oh my God," he whispered over and over as he played with them. "Time's up." I removed his hands and pulled the halter top back down. "Miss, you have the most exquisite breasts I have ever seen. Just the right size. Your areolas and nipples are incredible. My brother explained to me what causes breasts to sag. Yours are so firm. They'll never sag." "Well, hopefully not for several decades, anyway. But thank you for the compliment. Now, as for the lock... " He went to work silently as I took an inventory of the missing shoes. Just as we both finished a police officer arrived. "Thank you so much, miss, you made my day," the locksmith said as he left. "What was he talking about?" the officer asked, looking me directly in the eyes. He was about my height but rugged looking. Crew cut. Bulging muscles. Scars on his face. He looked like he could be real mean if he wanted to. "You have the most incredible blue eyes, miss. What is that eye shadow?" he asked in kind of a growl. "Uh... it's Mabelline Pixie Winks. New stuff." "And the blush?" "Pink Whisper." "Lipstick?" "Chanel Infrarouge Lipstick in Victory." "Matches your long beautiful hair so well." "That's why I like it." "I like Mabelline myself. The smooth-glide formula stays so smooth hour after hour. The air-tight cap keeps the color fresh and vibrant. Your nail enamel is Revlon. I can tell. Superior acrylic color and chip-resistant glossy topcoat. The color is Strawberry Electric?" "Close It's Passion Punch Shimmer." "Damn! I usually get it right." "Of course. I mean, you are an investigator." "That I am. The scent is Glow by JLO. The new fragrance by Jennifer Lopez. Fresh, sexy, clean. I love it." "Oh my God! You are good." "What was the locksmith asking about, I think I asked." "Yes, before you got distracted with lipstick and such. Photography. I gave him some suggestions to improve the... uh... realism of his work." I bit my tongue to stifle a laugh. Oh yeah, now he had pics of real ones instead of the fake ones his brother made. "Oh. Just wondered. He had a really strange look on his face. Like his fondest wish had just come true. Now, tell me what's missing." I described the shoes. Black leather thongs with faux turquoise ornaments. Keds PureFit denim sandals. White diamond ankle-straps made of imported kidskin with a three-inch heel. Dior skyscraper platforms. The lavender butterfly stilettos that matched the dress I wore the night my cousin Britney lost her virginity with my help. "Are you sure that's all the perpetrator stole?" The officer began to go through my drawers, pulling out lingerie and other assorted items. He found a pair of black lace panties he seemed to like. And then he found the bra that matched and held it to his chest, looking at me tentatively. "Uh... miss... uh... do you think... uh... I could... " "What? You want to borrow them or something?" "Uh... yeah. My girlfriend likes to play dress-up. I'm the girl and she's the guy. She wears my uniform. It's really wild." "I can imagine." Yes, I could. Sounded pretty kinky and fun to me. "She does me with a strap-on. Once she did me with my night stick. Damn, that hurt. But she cuffed me and I didn't have much choice." "Really?" "Really. I never thought I would like it, taking it that way. I'm kind of a macho guy, what with being a cop and all. I would never let another man do me anally. But there's nothing like a girl sticking it in your ass while her tits are pressing on your back while she strokes your cock. It's awesome!" "I can imagine." I could. Sounded like fun to me. He found my makeup and held up lipstick, mascara, and nail polish and looked at me hopefully. I shrugged noncommittally. His eyes gleamed when he saw the wig. Made from my own hair. Just in case I get mine cut short which I consider from time to time." "You would look incredible with pixie-length. You are such a natural beauty you can pull it off. Now me, I need long hair. To hide my face." He giggled as he put on the wig. And began to apply the lipstick and mascara "Dang dude, you could pass for my twin sister," I joked. "But please spare me the pleasure of seeing you in my bra and panties. You're smudging. Let me help you." I did. "Do you think I'm strange?" "Strange is good. Sometimes. As long as it's fun for all consenting adults involved. You can borrow my stuff. With one condition." "What's that?" "I want to watch." "You pervert! I'll ask my girlfriend." "No, no. I don't want her to know. It's better that way. "Would you settle for a tape?" "That would work." "You got a deal." His phone rang. "I have to go. You know, miss, we've had a string of burglaries like this lately. The only thing the perpetrator takes is shoes. Every victim I have interviewed has been a very attractive young woman like you. Some kind of wacko pervert who has a foot fetish or something I guess." "I guess." "Well, at least you have a good lock on your door now. I'll contact you immediately if there are any further developments. Next week I'll return your stuff and give you the tape." "Thank you, officer." He started to leave. "Hey!" "Yes, miss?" "You better not walk out the door like that. Unless you think you can pass for a female police officer. If you're going to try I suggest you put my bra on and stuff it with tissue." He giggled again like a girl as he took off the wig. I fetched a washcloth and removed the lipstick and mascara. He hurried out the door. * * * In a way I was glad some of those shoes had been stolen. The high heels anyway. My feet had been killing me as of late. I searched for the advertisement I had gotten from a podiatrist who had recently opened a new practice just a few blocks away. Free exam. I made an appointment for the next day during my lunch break. * * * The nurse led me into an examination room. I sat in the chair next to the table. The only thing on the walls were pictures of feet. Feet, feet, and more feet. "Hello, Sarah." I extended my hand and he grasped it with his fingers, like a gentleman. "Hi, Dr. Lewis." Good looking guy about forty I thought. Tall, thin, bushy salt-and-pepper hair. Nice smile. White short-sleeve shirt and conservative striped tie. Very muscular forearms and large hands. And feet. I notice such things. "So your feet have been hurting." He lingered with my hand. "You have an exquisite hand. Long fingers. Warm and strong for a woman. Women who have beautiful hands have beautiful feet. Let's have a look at yours. Wear high heels much?" "Occasionally." "Those Nike Shox R4 jogging shoes you are wearing today are much better for good foot health. Great cushion and shock absorption. A foam pillar cushions the heel with a traditional air unit in the forefoot. " "Yeah, you can wear them with shorts like I have on today but they don't go real well with a mini-skirt." He laughed. "Up on the table, please." "Have I met you before, Dr. Lewis? You look a little familiar." "Yes, you have, Sarah. I was best man at the Yeager wedding. We met very briefly as you and your family passed through the reception line." "I remember now! You kissed my hand. Nice touch." And it had sent a tingly chill up my spine. "Actually, I looked for you later. I thought perhaps you might like to dance. But I couldn't find you." "Oh, I didn't stay. Just offered my congratulations and then I had to leave. I got up on the table. He slipped off my jogging shoes and began to examine my feet. "Tell me what the problem seems to be, Sarah." "Sometimes my left foot feels numb. Other times I have cramping in my toes and feel burning and tingling like I'm on pins and needles." He shook his head knowingly. "It appears you have what's known as a Morton's Neuroma. The problem begins when the outer coating of a nerve in your foot thickens. If not treated the problem gets worse. I think we can help you with some anti-inflammatory agents. If those don't do the trick we may have to consider surgery. Minor outpatient surgery. No big deal." He gave me a prescription for the drugs. And some free samples. A lot of free samples. As I slipped my shoes back on he said softly, "Sarah, you have the most beautiful feet I have ever seen. And I have seen many a pair." He laughed lightly and his strange expression startled me for a moment. "Thank you, Dr. Lewis. I guess." Then I laughed. "People have complimented me on certain parts of my anatomy, but never my feet." "I would imagine they have, Sarah. You are such a lovely young woman. I hope we have solved your problem." "Thank you, Dr. Lewis." I left. * * * My foot started to feel better soon the next day after the medication began to take effect. I called Dr. Lewis to tell him. He kept me on the phone chatting about this and that. I don't think he wanted to hang up and wanted to ask me something but couldn't muster up the courage. "I have to go, Dr. Lewis." "Okay, Sarah. But try to stay off the high heels." "Yes, doctor. But I'm going to a charity opera event on Friday night. I'm not about to wear the jogging shoes." "I understand." * * * Friday night came. I wore the new pair of butterfly stilettos I purchased to replace the stolen ones. White. They didn't have another lavender pair that so perfectly matched the silk chiffon mini-dress that I wore to the opera. Kal, the wonderful man I recruited to take Britney's virginity bought the dress for me. Surplice neckline, front ruffle, and flutter sleeves. After the opera I had a drink with the two friends who met me there. At the hotel bar across the street. Just a little nightcap. Then I left for home. My car was parked a couple blocks away in a half full lot. It wouldn't start. Didn't seem like the battery. I was about to call my father to come and get me when someone pulled up in an old Jaguar convertible. Awesome vehicle. Appeared to be in mint condition. Top up but I immediately recognized the driver. Dr. Lewis. "Hello, Sarah." "Hi, Dr. Lewis." "What's the problem? I see your hood is up." "Really. Like I know anything about cars. It won't start. I was about to call my father to come and get me." "I don't know much about cars either but I'll give you a lift home. No point in bothering your father. It's late and he's probably sleeping." "Yes, I'm sure he is. Okay." I jumped in. "Hey, Dr. Lewis, why don't you take the top down? Please?" I gave him the smile that could get me anything. "Of course, Sarah. I see you are wearing high heels. Butterfly stilettos. Three-inch heel?" "Yeah. How is it you know so much about women's shoes?" "Occupational hazard. The ladies talk a lot about their feet and what they wear on them." I laughed gaily. "It must bore you silly." "Not really," he replied too seriously I thought. He kept glancing at me strangely as the wind swept and swirled my hair. "You're giving me a bad hair day, Dr. Lewis." Now he laughed. "That beautiful red hair could never look bad, Sarah. Do you think you could call me George?" "Sure I could. George." "Sarah, I have to stop at my office for a minute. He pulled into his reserved parking spot. Please come in with me. I don't want you to sit outside here in the car alone." "Okay." Once inside he led me to one of his examination rooms. "Lay on the table, Sarah. I might as well check your foot real quick as long as we are here. Then you won't have to make an appointment." "Okay." Seemed like a good idea to me. "Please slip off your panty hose and shoes." "Uh... actually, I'm wearing a garter belt." "Oh. Well, please... uh... do whatever you have to do to remove your stockings." He walked out of the room. I thought to give me some privacy. I closed my eyes momentarily. It had been a long day. I must have dozed off. I didn't hear him come back in. I woke as he snapped the restraining belt on the table snuggly across my waist. "Dr. Lewis, what are you doing?" I asked groggily. I tried to unfasten the belt but couldn't. My head was slightly elevated on the table. I had full motion with my hands and legs. I just couldn't get loose. "It's George, remember?" He spread my legs apart and restrained them by the ankles to the corners of the table. "George, what in the world do you think you are doing?" "Please don't worry, Sarah. I'm not going to hurt you. I promise." He showed me the lavender butterfly stilettos that had been stolen from my apartment." "Oh my God, it was you!" "Yes, Sarah, I took your shoes. And those of the others. I can't help myself. You are the first where I have taken it this far. I'm obsessed with your feet. I must have them. They are so... uh... perfect." "Have them? You're not going to cut them off, are you? Put them in your lobster pot like Jeffrey Dahmer did with the you know what?" "Certainly not. I'm going to have sex with your feet. I'll probably get in a lot of trouble for this. Lose my practice. End up in jail. I don't care. I must have your exquisite beautiful feet." He began to tickle the bottoms. "George! Stop that! I can't stand it!" I squirmed and wiggled. "Please, George, stop! You can have sex with my feet, but please quick tickling me!" He laughed. And stopped. "Thank God!" I cried. "George, don't you dare do that again!" I couldn't help but laugh. "Go ahead, George, fuck my feet. This ought to be good." I got hysterical. Don't know if it was the tickle job or just the absurdity of the situation but it had begun to amuse me immensely. And I wasn't frightened at all. He put some sort of lotion in his hands. "What's that stuff?" I asked. "My own special blend. Beeswax, natural vitamin E, coconut and sunflower oil, and a secret ingredient." "Oh." He placed his thumbs on the heel of my left foot and applied pressure to the underside, starting at the bottom and then gliding his thumbs toward my toes. "Oh yeah. That feels really good, George." George began a long, slow, firm stroking motion, starting at tips of my toes and sliding all the way up to my ankle. "God, George, you are good at this." "I use ayurvedic massage techniques based on pressure points like in reflexology." "Yes, well, please don't stop." He rotated my ankle by grasping the ball of my foot with one hand while he turned my foot slowly at the ankle with his other hand five times in each direction. Then he pulled and squeezed my toes quite expertly, gently squeezing and rolling the toe between his thumb and index finger. I noticed he had unzipped his pants. His large penis was exposed. He grasped my foot behind the ankle and used his penis to rub between my toes. I had this done to me before but with fingers. "George, that hurts a little. I don't mind between my big toe and the one next to it but not the others. Your cock is too big." "Oh, I'm sorry, Sarah." He then used his fingers for the other toes as he continued to rub his penis back and forth between my big toe and the other one. "Is that good for you, George? It looks like it is." "Yes. I love to do this. Your feet are so beautiful, Sarah." George switched to my other foot and repeated the process. Then he got down on his knees and began to suck my toes. "Oh my fucking God, George! This is like torture. But don't stop." I slipped the top of my dress down. No bra. I began to play with my nipples. "Do you like my breasts, George?" "Yes, they are lovely." He barely looked at them and went right back to sucking my toes. I lifted up the front of my short dress and slipped my hand down my panties. "George do you like my panties?" They were lavender like the dress. "Yes, very nice," he replied with disinterest. "How about the garter belt.? "Sexy." But he barely looked. "Oh God, George! You are driving me fucking crazy!" It almost felt like he was sucking my clit. But not quite. I couldn't help but help myself. I began to roll my clit gently between my fingers and picked up the pace as I got wetter and wetter. Then I pulled my pussy lips out of the way with my other hand and tapped on my clit softly. I stuck the fingers of one hand in my pussy and moved them in and out as I massaged my clit with two fingers of my other hand. "Oh, yeah, oh yeah! Give me a toe job, George! Oh, suck it baby! Harder! Oh my fucking God! I'm... ohh... ohh... ohh... oh yeah!"
I squeezed my thighs together as best as I could with my ankles restrained like they
were and had a glorious orgasm with my fingers inside me and my toes in George's mouth. |