	THE POWER OF FEET

	by Nadie

	There's definitely something about feet. I've known it for all my life, and 
I reassured it after modelling for some foot centred adult sites in the net. 
But I really wasn't really aware of their power until I met Jacob Peterson.

	Jacob Peterson was a client. He had called me some days ago, he was 
interested in hiring some of the female models from my agency for some sort 
of All-Girl production in London. I tried to search information about his 
Company, but nothing showed up. "We're new to the business", he said, and I 
accepted it, although a bit reluctantly. I prefer working with established 
companies, and with people I know well, for that matter, such as Viv Thomas. 
I agreed to meet him in Budapest to start negotiating, and scheduled him for 
the next Thursday.

	So there I was, waiting for a total stranger at Budapest Airport, with an 
uncertain business in perspective and what seemed like thousands of 
unanswered mails in my inbox. I had the usual "Mr. James Peterson" welcome 
sign, although it was unnecessary, he obviously knew me very well. When he 
arrived, he was nothing like what I expected. He was kind of short, medium 
weighted, with dark short hair, brow eyes and metal glasses. He was so 
"standard" that it occurred to me he would possible be more adequate for 
bureaucracy than for adult biz. The perfect Average Guy in charge of our 
taxes.

	"Mr. Peterson, welcome to Budapest", I greeted him when he saw me.

	"Sandy, I mean, Zsanette, I mean, Mrs... Miss..."

	"You can call me however you like. I have a lot of names", I joked.

	He giggled nervously.

	"So, how was your flight?"

	"Oh, Ok, it was... just Ok", he answered.

	Well, great, I thought, what an amusing guy to make deals with.

	"You must be tired from the trip, do you want to go to your hotel? I have a 
car outside".

	"Yes, oh no, I mean, yes, that would be great, hem".

	We headed for the car, and took the back seat. He didn't say a word. I was 
kind of tired too, so I tried to focus on the landscape, to imagine how it 
would seem to someone who had never seen it before, like Mr. Peterson. I 
didn't get to any conclusion, but when I turn to look at Mr. Peterson he 
wasn't admiring the landscape but my legs.  I could have felt either 
insulted or flattered, but for some reason I decided to be playful.

	"So, Mr. Peterson, do you like what you see?"

	She looked up and blushed rapidly.

	"Excuse me?"

	"I mean, the view. Do you like Hungary so far?"

	"Oh, hem, hem, yes, yes, I like what I've seen so far..."

	I laughed, and when he realized what I had just said he blushed even 
harder. I could almost tell that her hair had turned red. Luckily for him, 
we were arriving in his hotel.

	"Well, Mr. Peterson... Jacob... " -he blushed once again- "here we are. You 
have some spare time before our meeting. I'm sure you are eager to see more 
beauties... in Budapest I mean, so I will come by at 5. You can walk around, 
or take a rest, as you wish. Is that Ok for you?"

	"Oh, yes, yes. I'm sure I will like all the beauties I see... in Budapest, 
I mean". If he wasn't so nervous, he would have been having a great time. 
When I left him I made sure to swing my bottom from side to side, and left 
him take a good long look at my legs again before closing the door of the 
car. I was still smiling when I arrived in my office.


	* 	*	*


	I don't usually go home for lunch, but this time I did. I chose one of my 
sexiest dresses and open sandals, brushed my hair, put my make up on and 
made sure to make it obvious that I was wearing no underwear. This is not 
how I usually approach serious business, but so long, this whole thing with 
Mr. Peterson was hardly business, and definitely it was no seriousness in 
it.

	At 5.15, I was waiting for Mr. Peterson at his hotel's reception desk. When 
he came down, I saw that he had combed his hair and he was wearing his best 
suit (at least, it looked more expensive than the one he was wearing in the 
morning). Well, we both were trying to impress each other... I was just much 
more successful at it than he was.

	"Well, Jacob..." I said, gallantly leaning forward and showing his way into 
the car.

	"No, please, Mrs... Miss..."

	"Sandy"

	"Sandy. Please you go first"

	 Of course, I went first, and I'm sure Jacob didn't lose the opportunity to 
scan every inch of my skin.


	*	*	*


	"So, hem, where do we start?", he said when we were comfortably -and 
safely- locked in my office.

	I lifted up an eyebrow.

	"We could start talking about ourselves."

	"What?"

	"Yes, just to get to know each other. For example, how did you start in 
adult business?"

	"Well, I, hem, you know, the usual story, hem, you know, he, he"

	"Now, I don't know, you tell me"

	As he talked -or tried to, obviously making it all up, I tried to distract 
it, crossing and uncrossing my legs, turning my chair from side to side and 
helping my skirt come all the way up my thigh. He was sweating and bubbling.

	"...and that, hem, is how, well, I got... in..."

	"Yes?"

	"Adult business"

	"That's funny. I basically entered it because I love sex"

	He almost choked on his own saliva.

	And that's when I realized. It wasn't that he was staring at me. He was 
just staring at my legs. More exactly, he was looking me above the knees all 
the time. His gaze was so down that if an elephant had flied over us he 
wouldn't have even noticed. There was a second there when I felt frustrated. 
All my efforts, and all I had to do was to show my feet off!!! Then I 
accepted it: the game was on, only the rules had changed.

	"So", I started with a , rubbing my left feet softly against my right leg, 
"what do you want me to do for you?"

	"What?"

	"About your movie. What kind of movie will it be? Perhaps a fetish movie?"

	I subtly untied my shoes' strips and left the shoe dangle in the tip of my 
feet. Jacob could barely say a word.

	"Well, eh, hem, I, the, yes, the..."

	It wasn't long before my shoe feel off to the floor.

	"Yes?"

	He was unable to take his eyes off my feet. I kept moving it in circles, 
showing him all the possible angles of my ankle. (Pardon me for the word 
play)

	"Excuse me, Jacob, is something disturbing you?"

	"Well, yes, hem, I've... I've noticed that, you know, one of your shoes has 
fell off..."

	"...And you would like to put it back on, isn't it?"

	He was red again, and he was swallowing furiously.

	"Yes... may I?"

	"No"

	"Oh". He seemed so disappointed... He was kind of pathetic, but for a 
moment there he gained my sympathy.

	"No, you can't, and you know why?"

	"Hem, no, why?"

	"Because I have better plans for you". I took the other shoe off and laid 
both of them on his lap. "Those high heel sandals have been killing me all 
day. Would you mind rubbing my feet?"

	His hands were trembling, and I could feel that something was growing under 
his pants.

	"Oh, hem, yes, I'd be... delighted to"

	And he started to rub my feet, not like someone who is giving a foot 
massage to a total stranger, but like someone who is finally able to touch 
something he has worshipped for a long time. Her hands were soft, those of a 
bureaucrat. He first caressed them gently, as if he was entering an unknown 
territory. I giggled a bit. He obviously didn't want to tickle me, and 
pressed her thumb more firmly against my soles. He focused there for some 
seconds, pressing and moving his fingers in circles. Well, I had to admit 
this was turning to be quite nice: it wasn't his first foot massage, that's 
for sure. I even let out a little moan of pleasure, which made him look me 
in the eyes for the first time that evening.

	He then passed to my toes, pressing them up and down, playing with them.

	"I have French tips, do you like that? I always wonder if it's sexier to 
paint them in red or black..."

	"Not at all, please!!! French tips is Ok, nothing at all is even better". 
It was the first time that his voice had sounded strong and firm.

	He was so devoted to my feet, so blind to anything else. He kept running 
his fingers from the toes to the ankle and all the way back, pressing my 
soles, caressing them over and over again. Then, without asking permission, 
he started to kiss them. First, he kissed the soles, licked them, even bit 
them a bit, making me giggle again.

	Without almost realizing, one of my hand had made its own way under my 
skirt, and the other one was already playing with my nipples. As I've said, 
I had always had a thing for feet, and also, watching somebody get so turned 
on with my body, well, it's always a turn on. My pussy was already moist.

	Jacob was now sucking each one of my toes, licking the toe nails, biting 
them, putting them into his mouth. then he took all of them, and licked them 
inside his mouth. I could feel her tongue travelling across the distance 
between my toes, her hands still pressing the other foot. I took my feet out 
of her mouth and pressed it against his face, teasing him. He sighed, and 
tried to lick them again, but I kept moving it away. This little play was 
making him crazy. The lump under his pants was bigger than ever.

	"Listen", I said, "I will only let you touch my feet... but you can touch 
them with any part of your body." I smiled devilishly at him.

	"Any part?"

	"Any... part", I repeated, leaning my feet on his crotch.

	He quickly unzipped his pants.

	"Take it easy, cowboy. Let's start with your jacket".

	I tried to take his jacket off buy using only my feet. I wasn't easy, 
obviously, and he had to help a little, but the effect was quite erotic: I 
rubbed my feet over his shoulders, as I did on his chest while trying to 
undo her shirt. This time he was less patient: he ripped it off with one 
fast movement. His chest was hairy, but not too fat. For a bureaucrat, he 
had a body well kept. I rubbed my feet against him once more. I know my 
soles are soft, I know they are sexy, but their effect on him was 
overwhelming. His dick was throbbing as an independent being. He grabbed a 
foot and kissed it again, biting it hard. I screamed and laughed.

	Oh, I WAS liking this after all. I had increased the rhythm of my movements 
on my pussy, and I could already feel the pleasure waves increase by the 
minute. My nipples were hard, and my breathe was becoming faster. There was 
just one thing left to do.

	I pressed my feet against his dick, and started rubbing it up and down.

	"Listen, honey, I can finish you off with my feet. I've done it a lot of 
times".

	"Yes, yes, please, do..." he begged.

	"I will do it... if you tell me who you really are first"

	"Please...", he implored again.

	"Tell me", I said, as I rubbed my feet harder against his crotch.

	He was almost sobbing, a few inches away from pure ecstasy.

	"Ok, ok", he admitted, panting. "I'm not in the show business, I'm not in 
adult business, I'm a literature teacher at Rummidge University, I knew you 
from a foot site on the net, followed your track, and guessed this was the 
only way to talk to you... face to face... to see your sexy feet in 
person..."

	He was pressing my feet hard against him, rubbing them from side to side of 
her dick, up and down, in circles, every possible way.

	"You know, Jacob, I could say that what you have done is disgusting..." I 
said, as with one of my feet I tried to take his underwear away. "But I 
won't. I think it's cute". He helped me with his boxers. His dick was 
exposed now. "Plus, I so turned on right now that I don't want to stop".

	And with his penis between my feet, I started squeezing it, thrusting it up 
and down. At the same time, my fingers were playing with my pussy lips, 
delaying the moment to rub my clit. I groaned. He was in a hell of pleasure 
too. My toes were caressing his dick, and the other foot was carefully 
caressing his balls. I felt the first waves of the coming orgasm build 
inside me. He was helping my feet with his hands, making the shape of a 
pussy with my soles. While my fingers came in an out of my pussy, his cock 
was coming in and out of my feet. For this time, I could feel pleasure with 
a boy, because technically I wasn't really having sex with him.

	The rhythm kept increasing. He was grunting, I was screaming. I pressed my 
feet tighter, moving them faster up and down, in circles. He had his eyes 
closed. I did the same. He caressed my toes, thrusted harder, harder, 
faster, and I new it was time to take care of my clit. It was big as an 
almond, and wet, very wet. It was easy for me to get to orgasm. I tried to 
delay it, but my ecstasy came without notice. It was soft at the beginning, 
then it increased. At that time, I started to feel something sticky on my 
feet. I couldn't open my eyes, pleasure was too intense for me. I think I 
screamed, but I can tell, because I was too busy screaming. Orgasm seemed to 
follow there forever. Then, it dissolved in some last soft waves, and 
disappeared, leaving me satisfied and exhaust.


	When I opened my eyes, Jacob was still pressing my feet against him. They 
were covered with his cum. His mouth was open, and his eyes still closed. He 
was breathing heavily.

	"Thank you... so much...", he said.

	"You... are... welcome".


	*	*	*


	Jacob stayed in Budapest for another two days, in which I didn't see him at 
all. Then, he called, and I agreed to give him a lift to the airport. This 
time, I just wore some jeans and another open shoes. I wanted to give him a 
last good glance at my feet. He was wearing a suit again, and I would swear 
it was the same one from his arrival. "Well, University Teachers don't make 
that much money, at last", I thought to myself. "That makes his 
shirt-ripping more valuable".

	When we arrived to the check-in desk, I smiled and shook his hand politely.

	"Well, Jacob, I think neither of us will forget these three days".

	"I know I won't", he answered. After all we had gone through, he was much 
more relaxed in my presence. I guess, once you've cummed on a girl's feet, 
there's enough confidence for almost anything else.

	"Me neither", I answered with a smile. "It was a long time since I had so 
much fun with a boy..."

	"Well, I take it as a compliment"

	"You must", I continued, "but please, next time, be honest. Don't try to 
pretend you are somebody you are not".

	"Yes, but, you know, hem, would you have agreed to do what we've done... id 
you'd known the truth".

	"I might...", I answered, recovering my devil-child face, "... and I might 
have agreed to do it better, harder and more times... Just think about it".

	I turned and walked towards the parking. A few steps later, I looked back 
at him. His eyes were fixed on my sandals. I waved him for the last time and 
left. I'm not even sure he saw it.

	Definitely, there's something powerful about feet.



