My girlfriend, Justine, was chatting with her girlfriends, and I heard her teasingly say, “My toes are prettier than yours, no doubt about it.”

Rose — with her voice hovering on the verge of a shrill giggle — replied, “No way! Yours are like fingers. They’re so long. They’re creepy!”

That declaration was followed by Sheila’s sassy trademark drawl insisting, “Mine are better than either of yours! So there!” More laughter followed, with all three girls joining in.

I was in my small home office at the house I share with Justine. I was pretending to catch up on work. But in reality I was listening to the girls’ conversation with considerable interest. Justine had recently talked her two girlfriends into setting up a video channel on the internet, and that night they had gathered to come up with ideas and fine-tune concepts.

Of course, you know how that kind of thing usually goes — especially if you’re in your 20s and perpetually excited about everything, as Justine and her pals were. Hell, in those days I was pretty excited about everything myself. Justine and I had just moved in together, and life seemed full of possibilities.

“No, look! C’mon, look!” said Justine. Another torrent of giggles exploded in the other room, in a frenzy of half delight, half outrage.

“Eeew! God, they smell!” Rose shouted.

That did it. Obviously, I wasn’t going to get any work done that evening, so I went in to join the girls.

I found the three of them tangled up on the floor together, giggling their heads off. My Justine — lanky and red-faced under her frizzy blonde mane, was holding her bare foot under Rose’s chin. Rose, a petite lovely of Korean descent, was laughing hysterically as she tried to squirm away. She wasn’t having much luck because brown-haired Sheila was sprawled before her, holding Rose’s foot and tickling her sole with little scratching motions of one hand. The whole scene was adorable and — to me, at least — pretty damned hot.

By the way, if you’re sensing a theme here, you’d be right. The name the girls were pondering for their channel was “Toe Talk.” The plan was to focus on girls’ feet. Not in a directly fetishistic sense — more like beauty product and pedicure reviews. Things like that. But fetishism would play its part as well — chiefly the ins and outs of dating guys who like female feet.

If you hadn’t guessed by now, I’m one of those guys. I’m not sure if Justine had told the girls about my foot fetish at that point, but I was pretty sure they sensed it. My eyes had a way of lingering on their toes when they took off their shoes or wore an especially cute pair of sandals. When they traded stories about pedicures, I was maybe too attentive. I try to play it cool, but you can only hide these things up to a point. Luckily they liked me — and even more luckily, Justine wasn’t the jealous type. So everything was cool.

“Hey guys, how’s the meeting going?” I asked, as casually as I could.

“Hey, Michael,” Justine said slyly, waving her foot at me. “Come over here and help us out.” I accepted a glass of wine and took a seat on the couch.

“You choose, Michael,” Rose said, her words ending on a gasp. Sheila still had a grip on her foot and was mercilessly diddling its underside.

“Choose what?” I asked, sipping my wine as I eyed the girls. Rose was petite and as cute as hell. When she flirted with me — which was fairly often — I sometimes had to forcibly remind myself I wasn’t single. Sheila was a lanky brunette with an expression that appeared both sleepy and smug.

“Who’s got the hottest tootsies, of course,” Justine scoffed, lifting a leg to nudge me with her toes. “We’ve got to pick whose feet are going to be on our channel’s thumbnail. They’ll be the ‘face’ of ‘Toe Talk’ — or whatever we wind up calling this thing.”

“That’s right. Michael should decide,” Rose said, finally reclaiming her foot and rubbing briskly at the ticklish sole. “We’ll be here all night playing around if someone doesn’t make a call.”

“All right,” I said, shifting my weight on the couch, so my excitement — in the form of my stiffening shaft — wouldn’t be too apparent to our guests. “I guess I can help you out. How do we do this?”

“Like this!” Justine said. A moment later the three girls were before me on their backs, lifting their legs and propping their bare feet on my lap. Suddenly, I had three pairs of lovely naked soles submitted for my inspection. The only thing that would have made the scene better is if my rock-hard dick were protruding from my fly for Justine to stroke.

“And no playing favorites with Justine, just ’cause she’s your girlfriend!” Rose said with a pout.

“That’s right,” Sheila purred. “You have to be objective.”

“He’ll objectify you, all right,” Justine snickered.

I began my “inspection” with Justine’s foot, purely out of deference to her girlfriend status. You know those girls with incredibly long, slender feet and “monkey toes?” Justine was a perfect example of the type. Her feet were soft and fair-skinned, with a tendency to turn a hot pink on the soles after a long walk or a casual rub. I spent a long while considering her feet, bending her toes back to check for calluses, sniffing them — much to the girls’ amusement — and even running a tongue over them. She lay back purring and collecting envious looks from her friends.

“Me next!” Rose cried out. She had the smallest feet of the three, and probably the cutest. She had tiny toes accented with bright red lacquer and arches almost as high as Justine’s.

“Just be… kinda careful, OK?” she murmured, flinching as I started my inspection of her ticklish tootsies.

“Too late,” Justine said gleefully. “Mike’s a tickle monster, you know that!”

That remark counted as permission to indulge my tickle fetish to its fullest on Rose’s toes, and I promptly did so. She lost it completely, squealing and grabbing feebly at my fingers. If Justine and Sheila hadn’t taken hold of her ankles, I might not have given her the thorough digital examination her feet deserved.

And speaking of the lovely Sheila… what can I say? Her feet were nothing short of glorious: long and sleek, with fleshy soles and toes. Like Rose, she kept her nails painted, but her favorite color was a sky blue. Her aromatic feet also had a warm, earthy scent that drove me absolutely crazy.

Naturally, I resisted the urge to lick Sheila’s soles or run my nose over them, but that intoxicating scent hung around her wriggling feet like a seductive perfume. I was finding it harder and harder to control my impulses. Finally, I hastily excused myself and hotfooted it — a little awkwardly — to the bathroom.

A light tap on the door sounded just as I had lowered my trousers. Before I could respond, the door gently opened and Justine slipped into the bathroom with me. I was certainly happy to see her. Though I have to admit part of me was wondering what would have happened if it had been Rose or Sheila checking on me.

“You OK?” she asked. Then her eyes fell to my more than half hard cock, which was resting just above the pants and underwear bunched around my thighs. “Oh my God. Which of us did that to you?”

“I think what I experienced out there is called an embarrassment of riches,” I said ruefully.

Justine leaned back against the closed door and lifted a leg, resting one cool, slightly gritty sole on my organ and trapping it in place against the fabric beneath it.

“I should have known better than to let you play with my toe-slut friends,” she said. I gasped at the delicious pressure of her foot against my dick. I pumped my pelvis, groaning as Justine moved her sole to meet the rhythm of my thrusts.

At that moment a peal of frantic laughter sounded from the living room.

“Poor Rose,” Justine said. “Sounds like Sheila’s tickling her some more. Too bad you’re not out there to give her a hand.”

I suspected the girls had agreed Sheila would begin Rose’s tickle torment right after Justine came to join me. My thrusts became shorter and faster; the friction caused by my girl’s foot made my cock ache.

“Maybe we should tie them up and take turns on their feet,” Justine said. “Do you think you would like that?”

“You know I would,” I gasped.

“Did you notice Sheila’s feet were a little rank tonight? Of course, some guys like their girls’ feet on the natural side. Maybe I should go around all day in sneakers with no socks. What do you think?”

By now, Justine had my aching dick caught firmly between her big and second toes. She reached casually for a bottle of baby oil on our bathroom shelf and, holding it high, let a long stream dribble onto my cock. It made Justine’s foot job even more delicious. My dickhead felt incandescent and tingly, and I was desperate to shoot my load.

Meanwhile, Rose’s continuous laughter was interspersed with pleas for mercy and occasional threats. Sheila was laughing, too, a deep throaty sound that made me wish to suck her toes one by one.

A fantasy overtook me, in which all three girls were seated before me with their wrists bound behind them and their bare feet tied at the ankles. Their soles were taut and their toes wiggling. The three of them were begging me to lick and caress those delicious tootsies.

I knew I wasn’t going to last much longer. So did Justine. The foot job she was giving me slowed, each stroke ending with some firm pressure applied to my cock. My hips were moving as steadily as a machine.

A loud cackle exploded from the living room. It was Rose. I heard her snickering as she asked Sheila if she liked what she was doing to her feet. Somehow, she managed to turn the tables on her tormentor, and Sheila was now helplessly laughing her head off.

Justine and I traded delighted smiles, and at that moment my girlfriend’s long, lovely toes were suddenly covered in a burst of hot jism that had fountained out of my long-suffering cock like a stream from a firehose.

“Wow,” Justine sighed, staring down at her dripping toes. “You really needed that, didn’t you?”

All I could do was nod, my whole body enveloped in a delicious crackling energy.

“Come on.” Justine winked. “Let’s get cleaned up, and go see what the girls are up to. Who knows? Maybe you’ll get to tickle Sheila’s stinky feet after all!”