Pretty feet, feast your eyes and mouth on Aria’s feet part one
“Hey there stranger, come on in.” I greet with a smile. You look down and rub the bottom of your shoes on the welcome mat. You do that so you an get a discreet look at my pretty feet. Unfortunately, my feet are hidden inside of a pair of pale gray furry slippers. All you are able to glimpse, are the slender and elegant ankles sprouting up from the hole.
You take a deep breath and step inside my house. I motion for you to take a seat on the couch to wait. I’m not quite ready for our date. So I disappear down the hall and into my room, leaving you there to imagine what is going on behind the closed door.
Am I slipping on a pair of sheer stockings? Am I applying lotion to my buttery soft soles? Maybe I’m perusing my collection of heels, debating the perfect pair to adorn my feet. I know all about your tastes, you know. You told me when we were texting back and forth, getting to know each other before our first date. I want to make sure that our first date goes perfectly for the both of us. It’s a win-win situation, since I get to wear shoes from my cute part of the closet!
I take maybe fifteen minutes to finish getting ready, and when I step out of my room your eyes immediately look at one spot. Your eyes do not waver as I begin walking towards you. Slowly, step by step, your pants get tighter and tighter as your cock stiffens.
The first thing you notice are my freshly painted scarlet toes.
You marvel in my dainty little toes for a while before moving on to the silky black ribbon-like straps that criss cross around the top of my feet and around my ankle. The icing on the cake is the dainty little tied bow on the outside of my ankle. The only thing holding my delicious feet into the three inch stiletto heels.
So I finally make it to where you are sitting, but your eyes have not left my feet since you laid eyes on them. I don’t mind though. I slowly spin in place like I would if I were showing off my outfit. But no, the outfit doesn’t even register in your mind. You are drinking in the sight of how smooth and soft my heel looks, how dainty my toes are, and how the heels make such pretty packaging.
There is no way in hell that we can go to dinner when you are nearly bursting at the seams. I finish my slow spin and notice the bulge in your pants. Thinking quickly on my feet, pun intended, I sit down next to you and spin so that I can drape my legs over your lap. I cross my legs so that one heel rests right on top of the other.
You tear your eyes off my feet for the first time since you arrived and look at me questioningly. I return your look with a reassuring smile, giving you permission. I don’t think we are going to make it to dinner tonight…