As I knelt before her, my heart pounding against my chest with anticipation, I knew that what I was about to do was forbidden. But the desire burning within me was too strong to withstand. I had all the time been fascinated with her feet – the arch of her soles, the delicate curves of her toes, the subtle shimmer of her nail polish. And now, I was finally gonna worship them.
She sat on the couch, her eyes fixed on me as I laid down on the floor at her feet. Slowly, ever so slowly, I reached out and touched her toes, tracing the tips of my fingers up and down each one. She let out a soft sigh, and I knew that I was doing something right. Encouraged, I leaned in and took her big toe into my mouth, sucking gently as I savored the taste and texture of it.
I could feel her toes curling and flexing against my lips, and I knew that I was giving her pleasure. Slowly, I moved onto her other toes, lavishing attention on each one in turn. The sensations were overwhelming – the taste of her skin, the scent of her sweat, the feel of her delicate digits in my mouth. I was lost in the moment, completely at her mercy.
But as my worship of her feet intensified, so did the forbidden thrill of it all. I knew that I shouldn’t be doing this, that it was wrong to have such an obsession with her feet. But the shame and guilt only added to the excitement, fueling my desire to please her even further.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, she pulled her feet away from me, a look of satisfaction on her face. “You’re a good foot worshipper,” she said, her voice low and sultry. “But remember – this is our little secret. No one can know about this little fetish of yours.”
And with those words, she stood up and walked away, leaving me alone on the floor, my heart racing and my desire for her feet still burning bright.