Stolen Hot Pink High Heels
Published on Saturday, August 19, 2006
This illustrated story was submitted by Michelle who can be contacted via her husband Ed.

To read Michelle's 1st story, click Michelle's Feet.

Here are some sample photos of Michelle's sexy little feet:

I was at a party one time, everyone was dressed up because it was Christmas, and I had some toupe coloured light brown pantyhose covering my size 6 feet and legs. My toes were painted hot pink and I wore a pair of pink heels to match which I left at the door when I entered my friend's house.

I was alone at the party, and as the evening went on I was getting very drunk. I don't drink a lot, so by 1 in the morning I was very tired, and very out of it.

By this time, many people had left the party and gone home. There were six of us left, and we ended up sitting around the kitchen table. My friend and her husband were there, another couple, and a very good looking guy right across from me whose girlfriend left earlier with some people she knew because she had to work in the morning. He said he was having too good a time to leave, and she had no problem with him staying.

Unfortunately, all evening this man was cozying up to me. He was everywhere I was. If I went to get a drink, he was there. If I sat on the couch, he was sitting on the floor below me leaning up against the arm. He was a bit of a bore, so not my type at all, but he kept talking me up all night.

In the kitchen, when we were all talking, he often had his legs stretched straight out under my chair. Before long his feet would be just barely touching my hosed toes, then he'd move them, and ever so slightly be pressed up under my pantyhosed arches. My legs were crossed under my chair, and sometimes I would be talking or listening or laughing, and not paying much attention to my little feet.

If I crossed them in front of me, he would change positions and suddenly not be stretched out, but cross his legs until his shin found its way to my elevated foot. Meanwhile he'd be gently trying to press his toes over the top of mine.

As the evening wore on, and this game of cat and mouse continued very indiscretely, I began to get extremely tired, and actually laid my head down on the table and closed my eyes. My friend told me that the two couples were going to change, and take a hot tub, and she'd make up a cot for me in the basement as soon as they were done. So there I was, too tired to get in the hot tub, and nowhere to go. Of course my handsome friend across from me was going nowhere either, as he stayed to keep me company until they all got back.

We talked a bit, and again I realized how I wasn't into this guy. Blah, blah, blah, he kept talking and talking to me. I was sitting up at this point trying to be polite despite how tired I was, but into his fourth or fifth story, I could take it no longer. I excused myself for my rudeness, but had to lay my head on the table again, and rest my tired eyes. He said go ahead, and didn't miss a beat in his story.

My little nyloned feet were crossed under my chair, my arms crossed over the table, and my head laid on top of them. I began to nod off, just as he was at it again. I felt his feet press against mine way under my chair. First ever so lightly, then more firmly.

I was really too tired to bother moving them, and began to nod off just as he hooked his toes behind my heels and began wiggling them around the back of my heels... drawing them forward, the silky stocking sliding easily over the hardwood floor. I fell fast asleep.

About 15 minutes later, I felt a bit uncomfortable. I didn't know where I was, but my legs felt elevated. There was some  movement over my tiny feet. Were those hands? I started to come to a little more, and could tell that my feet were up on a chair. They were pressed up against something, but encased between... thighs! Someone's thighs! Fingers were roaming over the top of my toes, caressing them under the now wrinkled fabric of the pantyhose. My toes were being cupped in someone's hands, and then those same big hands were sliding over the nyloned foot down the inside balls and arches, down to the tops of my heels.

As I was officially coming to, there was a pressing feeling. That's what woke me up! This annoying pressing. My toes pressing against something, something metal, something hard. It was against a zipper of some pants. It was against his crotch. His hands were on the tops of my toes, pressing them into his crotch, moving them both around in circles, and gyrating his crotch area against the bottoms of my stockinged feet and toes! Pressing, pressing, presssing, pressssssssing.

I came to. I pulled my feet back, and though he tried to hold on for a second, I pulled my chair back and ran into the bathroom. When I came out he was gone. I went down to where my friends were hot-tubbing, but didn't mention anything. It seemed too unlikely, and I was so drunk, and so fast asleep. Was I dreaming the whole thing, or hallusinating?

That night I slept alone on a cot in the friends' basement. When I slept it off, and got up in the morning to go home, my hot pink high heels were missing. I had to wear a pair of my friend's shoes, which were probably two sizes too big for me.