Susie and I were out to lunch when she asked me, “Do you think Michael is your soul mate?”

I nodded, flexing my toes in my patent leather sandals and admiring the shimmery purple polish on my toenails.

“Definitely,” I said, my mind flashing back to the previous night. What a night it had been, filled with firsts and foreplay, feet and fucking. I told Susie all about it, describing every detail.

The evening before, Michael cradled my right foot as he worked. Glistening purple polish travelled from a delicate brush along the length of my pinkie toenail. I practically held my breath. Michael was completely captivated by the job at hand — I mean, at foot. He was even breathing a little quickly, as if he’d been out for a run.

I had known my feet fascinated him, but I hadn’t understood exactly how much he’d enjoy polishing my toes.

Slowly, carefully, he painted each one. My left foot pressed against his hard cock, which strained in the confines of his white briefs. We’d stripped at the start of the evening — him discarding his clothes all the way to his formfitting underwear, and me pulling off my floral dress to reveal a matching bra-and-panty set. Semi-nude, we sat on the floor in the living room, and his dick was stone-hard as he focused all of his attention on my dainty toes.

“What is it about you and feet?” I asked as he gazed at my toes. It was as if he was trying to learn the very shape of my bones, admiring the elegance of my narrow size sixes.

“It’s not just any feet,” he replied. “Your feet are fucking gorgeous. They’re the sexiest parts of you.”

This was a first. Men in my past have admired my large eyes, my wide smile, even the smattering of freckles across my nose and cheeks. Prior to Mike, I’d never given much thought to my feet at all. I shifted my left foot against his dick. He gave me a look, then licked his lower lip.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“What do you think I’m doing?”

Mike paused. “I think you’re stroking my cock with your foot.”

“Give the man a prize,” I said, smiling in spite of myself.

He continued to focus on his task, but he still had the wherewithal to ask, “What sort of a prize?”

I pressed my foot harder against his groin, upping the ante. He returned the pressure, urgently butting against me, his hips getting into the action. I wondered how long it would take for him to finish the pedicure. He didn’t seem to be in any sort of rush, but his boner let me know precisely how turned on the activity was making him.

To taunt him further, I pulled down the waistband of his briefs ever so slightly, only using the tips of my toes. The paint on those nails was already dry. Once the head of his cock had poked free, the atmosphere changed. Michael blew on the toes of my right foot, urging them to dry, as he humped my left foot with renewed vigor.

I would never have considered a pedicure as foreplay, but his attention to my toes had definitely whet more than my appetite. My pussy was gushing with juicy goodness. I took over, telling him to take off his briefs completely, and then I used the soles of my feet to start jerking him off. His dick looked divine trapped between my feet, and the polish seemed to further enhance the glory of the sight.

“He bent my legs so he could grip my feet while he fucked me wildly.”

Generally, I’m more of an “oyster-shell toenail polish” girl. I rarely break out with bold colors. But the purple polish had caught my eye right before I was checking out from the beauty supply store earlier that day.

Michael moved forward, and I stripped off my undergarments. Before long, I was on my back on the living room floor, and in a flash he was in me. He bent my legs so he could grip my feet and continue to admire them while he fucked me wildly. He seemed unable to stop talking about my toes and soles, telling me how beautiful they were, how they made his dick hard.

His cock drove deep inside me as he splayed my thighs wide and caressed my feet. I’d never realized that my feet were an erogenous zone before, but as Michael stroked them, cooed to them, told me how he wanted to suck each one of my toes, I found an orgasm building within me. The combination of being fucked and stroked really sent me. When Michael let one hand tickle my clit, I came dramatically on his dick, my feet still pointing skyward.

Michael pulled out of me and motioned to a bottle of lotion he’d used at the beginning of my pedicure. I snagged the bottle and squirted a bit of the silky solution on my soles. Then, guessing what he was looking for, I once again began a luxurious foot job. Michael leaned back against the sofa, but he didn’t close his eyes. He stared down as I used my feet to service him. The polish gleamed as I worked. I moved faster and faster, only pausing to re-lubricate my soles as needed. Michael murmured soft words about how good my feet felt, how sexy I was, how much he loved my toes.

I did not expect the geyser of his come to spray upward between my feet but spray it did! Our foot-themed fuckfest had definitely flipped his switch. Michael seemed a little glazed, but not too far gone to realize my pedicure was far from over. He reached for the clear bottle of top coat, and I knew there was more foot play in our future.

“There are soul mates and sole mates,” I’d told Susie. “Michael and I? We’re both.”

Check out the Full Gallery