"Kiss," I commanded.
Douglas leaned forward, and planted his lips on my big-toe.
I was wearing my favorite black high-heeled stilettos. The straps around my ankle, and across my bridge, were adorned with an array of tiny, silver studs, which added a pleasing air of BDSM to proceedings.
Just as pleasingly, they made exploring my foot a bit more perilous; more than once my boyfriend had emerged from our 'sessions' with tiny indentations on his fleshy cheeks, and chin, where the studs had dug into his flesh.
Given that he'd normally asked me to wear the shoes, I assumed he didn't mind the pain. I know I didn't; I had no problems with hurting him in the name of passion.
However, he had neither asked, nor expected me, to bring them to New York with us. His look of surprise as I'd emerged from the bathroom with them on my feet was priceless. As was the way his erect cock involuntarily jerked upwards. I'd ordered him to undress before I went in; as much as I wanted to see his look of surprise, I'd also wanted to see the effect I had on his dick just as much.
I was already wet - getting dressed, and thinking about what we'd do when I'd left the bathroom had seen to that. But his facial expression, and his dancing cock, had only turned me on even more. I'd had a plan, I'd thought about exactly what we'd do, but that would go out of the window if I got any more aroused.
I looked down, watching Douglas' head gently bob, pecking at my toes through my stockings.
Tonight I was also wearing the fishnet hold-ups I'd picked up in Macy's. Another surprise for my boyfriend. They'd been something he'd wanted to me to wear for a long time. Being a... let's just say, a 'larger' girl, I'd never really felt at ease 'dressing up' for my previous partners. However, Douglas was the only man who'd not only never disparaged me for my size, but actually complimented me for it. Physically, he loved me for who I was.
I know a lot of it was pure male-fantasy, but - if putting on a pair of stockings made me sexier in his eyes - I was more than happy to play along. Far from being objectifying, I found it flattering.Given that he'd arranged and paid for our vacation, knowing that the Big Apple held top-spot on my 'bucket list', it was only fair that - while here - I gave him something off his.
Below me, Douglas had worked his way across my foot, and was now delicately kissing my little toe. Despite the cacophony from Times' Square twenty flights below us, all I could hear was the sound of his lips kissing, worshiping my feet.
"That's enough of that," I said.
I walked over to the edge of the bed, and sat down. My legs dangled, provocatively, off the end.
"You can take them off now, please," I instructed. As I spoke, I raised my right leg into the air, signifying where he could start.
"Take them off?" he asked. His voice was a husky, and dripped with lust. But the tone of surprise was likewise, obvious. Normally, the shoes stayed on a lot longer than were going to tonight. It thrilled me that, by diverting from our ordinary ritual, I had thrown him; he didn't know what coming next, and that only turned me on even more.
"Yes," I replied, firmly. "Take them off. Now."
Douglas inched forward on his knees, towards the bed. He came to a stop at my feet. His erect cock stood proud. I lowered my foot into his crotch, and he began to undo the buckle.
It had all started six months ago, after he'd - drunkenly - confessed his predilection for tootsies. I hadn't been shocked - just bewildered. I'd never really got the whole feet thing before. It wasn't that I found it strange, or weird. I'd just never given it much thought. Feet were just feet; you used them walk around on. That was it. I was neither repulsed by them, nor aroused; they were just appendages.
However, it was foot massage that followed that turned me into a believer. As he'd kneaded my tired foot, Douglas explained that my foot had more nerve-endings than any other part of my body: It was one of the most overlooked erogenous zones. He a piano-tuner by trade; so I'd always known he was dexterous, and good with his hands. But, the massage surpassed all expectations.
To start with, it had just relaxed me. But, slowly, as he'd started to intersperse massing my feet with kissing them, I'd felt the flames of arousal being ignited, as all those nerve-ending he's so eloquently talked about came alive. Five minutes, after he'd gloriously sucked the toes on my right foot, we'd fucked.
The sex was good, but the foreplay had been astonishing.
From that night on, foot worship became a staple of our sexual life.
Well, him worshiping mine did. He enjoyed having his pampered, but - being honest - we both liked it more when mine were the focus of attention.
We'd introduced the shoes very early on, and they'd become a firm favorite. Whether barefoot, or clad in stockings, they never failed to make Douglas hard. However, tonight, they weren't going to be the centerpiece. His surprise at me telling him to remove had been genuine; normally, they stayed on much longer than they had this evening.
He'd removed my pump, and had placed it on the carpet next to him.
"Next one, please," I said, lifting my right leg away from his groin, and replacing it with my left leg.
His hands were shaking, electrified with lust. I was amazed he could even undo the buckle. However, he managed to undo the tiny, silver clasp, and gently pulled my foot out of the shoe.
"You may kiss them again," I told him.
Holding my calf, he lifted my right leg up, closer to his mouth. He craned his neck forward, and I felt his hot breath through the stockings. He planted his lips on the bridge of my foot, and began kissing. However, his look of shock earlier at my changing our usual routine had stayed with me. It had thrilled me before; so I did it again.
Besides, tonight I had something else in store for him. Something we'd talked about before, but never done. Something that would act as a special 'thank you' for this wonderful trip.
"That's enough now," I said.
Douglas lowered my stocking-clad foot back into his groin. Teasingly, I extended my big toe, letting it gently flick the tip of his cock.
"Sit up, and put your hands behind your back."
My partner obeyed; his face was a delightful mixture of confusion and arousal.
I stood. Fighting the dizziness caused my own my lust, I slowly I walked back over to the bathroom, and towards my handbag that perched next the sink. I reached my hand in, and my fingers instantly curled around cold, hard metal. I pulled out the handcuffs, and turned, padding my way back toward Douglas.
I bent down behind him, and with one hand, roughly pulled Douglas' wrists closer together.
"What...?" he began.
"Quiet," I said, opening one of the cuffs, and wrapping it around his plump wrist. The 'snap' as it locked shut sent a frisson of energy through me.
I pulled open the other cuff, and attached that to his other wrist. Another 'snap', another bolt of lust. I let his wrists drop, where they nestled in the small of his back. The handcuffs had been an impulse buy, purchased in the hotel gift shop. They were emblazoned with the 'NYPD' logo, and - although metal - they were no more than a toy. If Douglas had wanted to, he could've escaped quite easily.
But it gave the illusion I was in control. It was game we were both willing participants in.
"That's better," I said, walking around, and sitting on the edge of the bed again.
"Now," I began, lifting my legs, pointing my toes towards him. The tips of my toenails scraped his upper chest. "You have to remain still."
I lowered my feet, and my toes caressed his tummy. Like me, Douglas wasn't petite. But, just as my ample curves made me more attractive in his eyes, his generous size only made him seem more sexier in mine.
"Stay. Still," I repeated, as my feet lowered towards his cock. I put them together, encasing his dick in my stockinged feet. I could feel his hard penis against the ball of each foot.
"How does that feel, slave?" I purred.
"Good," he stammered. "Better than I... oh God..."
I started moving my feet up and down, wanking him.
Douglas opened his mouth to make a noise, but whatever sound he was trying to make got caught in his throat.
I increased the speed of my feet.
He looked at me, but then closed his eyes. Once again, his mouth formed an 'O'shape, but nothing came out.
I wrapped my feet around his cock, tightly. Again, I sped up.
He twitched, signifying that he was close.
I fought the urge to put an hand in my panties, and play with my clit. No; this was his 'thank you' - he could fuck me afterwards. And, boy, was he going to.
His body jerked once more, and his back arched.
I increased my sped for the final time...
With a loud, "Yes," he came, covering my feet with semen.
His body convulsed, before collapsing forward over my feet.
Delicately, I moved the soles of my feet away from his cock, letting them rest on his thighs.
After a few seconds, he lifted his head. He was smiling.
"Thank you," he said.
"No," I replied. "Thank you. For this trip. For being you."
"I'm not quite sure that a long weekend in New York deserved that," he said, giggling. "I'm fairly sure you're still in credit."
"In which case, come over here and screw me."
"What about the handcuffs? Can you take them off?"
"No," I said, smiling. "I like them. So you're keeping them on."
Slowly, Douglas stood. Without the use of his hands, he wobbled a bit. But he managed it.
As I inched back on the bed, watching him move towards me, I made a mental note that, as soon as returned to England, I'd need to buy some proper handcuffs.
And a new pair of fishnet stockings...
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