It was the end of a date, the first in-person meeting after finding one another through an online dating site. After a a phone call or two, we met at a coffee shop and then decided to take a hike through the woods at a nearby park. At some point, he asked how the date was going. I directly and honestly told him that he was a nice guy, but I honestly didn’t feel any sparks.
When we said good-bye at my car door, he pulled me in for a kiss and it was pleasant enough.
“I’m surprised that you’re a tongue kisser on the first date,” he said. Then he offered to give me a foot massage. He was sure that I would feel sparks I I allowed him to rub my feet. He would do it right then If I wanted, but he didn’t bring any foot cream. He asked me to call him any time of the day or night if I wanted him to rub my feet.
I thanked him and said that it was nice to meet him, but I probably wouldn’t call. He made sure that I had his phone number, just in case I changed my mind.
The idea of him massaging my feet got under my skin. Three days after our first, and what I thought would be our only date, I called him. Without hesitation he said, “I can be there in forty-five minutes. What’s your address?”
When he arrived, we chatted a bit while he drank a Coke and I had a glass of wine. Then he asked where I’d like to sit. I chose a comfy spot on the couch and settled in as he sat cross-legged on the floor in front of my bare feet. He pulled a small tube of Neutrogena foot cream out of his pocket and placed my bare feet on his lap.
As he massaged every inch of each foot and every toe, his eyes were locked with mine. He told me how beautiful I looked. He wanted to kiss my face, my lips, and my breasts. He wanted to taste my pussy and my asshole. He said that he would lick my feet and suck my toes if I wanted. In fact, he would do anything that I wanted. I was riveted by the low, quiet sound of his voice and the firm but gentle sensation of his lotion-covered hands on my feet.
I felt intoxicated. My pussy was dripping wet and my clit was twitching by the time he finished rubbing my feet. “I feel sparks,” I said. He smiled and said, “That’s good.” Then he left.
Sparks? I felt a raging inferno of desire for him. After that, I fantasized about him while masturbating. Sometimes I still do. And a good foot massage still gets my juices flowing.
