Love Thy Neighbor's Feet

Published on Wednsday, March 30, 2010

This story was written by Stryker53.

To read this author's 1st story, click Her Sweaty Jogger Feet.

Editor's note: This story has been published "as is" without proper editing.

Every day Jason watched from his window as she left for work.

Jason was thrilled to see her in her waitress uniform.

She wore a fluffy white blouse, black pants and the same white sneakers each day.

She'd leave to work the brunch shift and work until after the dinner rush.

Jason had her schedule down pat. He longed to get up the courage to talk to her.

He'd lived across the street from her since she moved in six months ago. But his nerve never allowed it.

Jason was a widower now.

His wife had suddenly passed a year ago. Since then he barely left the house. He loved his wife so.

Yet until this red haired woman, who he figured to be about 30 or so, rented the house across the street he just kept to himself.

His only enjoyment was getting up early enough to peek at her through the window, and wait for her to come back at night.

He often wondered how she did it. She lived alone and had rare visitors. She worked long hours and seemed tired; as she should after those long double shifts she worked.

She was quiet and attractive. And somehow Jason wished he could get up the courage to finally meet her.

It must have been around noon when a knock came on his door.

Jason peeked out the window and saw the mailman on his front step.

He opened the door and received a package with the address of the red haired woman across the street.

The mailman asked if Jason would give it to his neighbor, as he didn't want to leave it on her porch all day.

Jason readily agreed and signed for the package.

He went inside and studied the return address, which read, "Happy Feet Inc." This intrigued him greatly.

All through his marriage Jason had served has his wife's foot slave.

He found her in collage and soon found himself completely under her feet as her personal slave.

Many are the times his wife had him sniff and lick and suck her succulant toes. How often had Jason been made to lie under her chair and masturbate as his wife used his face for a resting place.

It was his life to serve his wife this way. He kept her toenails painted with fresh pedicures weekly. He bought her shoes and always kept them in proper order and well shined.

Usually he'd accomplish the shining with his tongue while on his knees before her.

Jason's wife was not into feet at all when they met. He had to convince her to allow him to be her foot slave. His former wife at first would have none of it. This made Jason want her all the more as to him, she had the perfect feet.

They were very shapely with high arches. Size 6 and a half, with perfectly stair stepped toes. When they first met, she'd never paint her nails. Hell she'd never thought of it. Also even in the summer she'd hardly wear shoes that revealed her beautiful feet.

Actually it was after a night of dancing back in her dorm room that Jason first got a good look at them.

She had brought him up to her room and after fixing them a drink, she went into the bathroom and came out in a baggy pair of pants, a loose sweatshirt, and barefoot.

At first sight of those feet Jason was hooked. It became his mission to be at them any time he could. Of course he immediately offered to give her a foot rub stating how they must be tired after dancing all night. She refused.

Undaunted Jason kept at her often.

Each time they would make love, he made sure to pay particular attention to her feet.

A small kiss here, a touch there but seemingly his wife never took the hints. It was after a few years of their marriage that she had a talk with one of her friends who set her straight.

Once she understood what his infatuation with feet was all about for the remainder of their twenty-year marriage, she tortured and pleased him with her feet. Jason became her total slave and he loved it.

In all of his endeavors to keep the foot love alive, he'd often purchased items from the company called "Happy Feet."

Standing there in his living room, holding a box from this well familiar company for the red haired waitress who lived across the street brought new courage, and an instant hard on to the lonely widower.

It was nearly seven p.m. when her car pulled into the driveway.

Jason was, as usual standing guard at his post near the window.

He watched as her brake lights turned off, knowing that her foot had just left the pedal.

Then he saw her door open and waited as she gathered her purse, then swung that lovely white sneaker to the ground, soon followed by the other one.

His eyes followed each step as she gingerly walked up the steps to her door and went in.

He looked at the box on the table then sighed and looked up through a hole in the ceiling toward Heaven. With a small tear in his eye he whispered out loud, "You said you'd have feet in my face all my life darling, perhaps now you've fulfilled that promise."

Feeling thus assured, Jason gathered up the box and headed toward the red haired woman's house.

Upon hearing the soft knocking on her door, the woman opened it.

She was still dressed from work, shoes and all, he noticed. "Hello, can I help you?" she questioned.

Jason was astonished to be this close to her.

She stood only five foot two, had shoulder length red hair, which he'd usually only seen tied up in a bun.

He stammered out his name and held the box in shaky hands to her.

She blushed and asked if he could bring the box inside, as if she was too embarrassed to touch it herself.

Jason followed and was led to her living room. "It came today Ms Wells," Jason said after reading her name from the address then continued, "the mailman didn't want to just leave it on the porch and asked if I'd give it to you."

His speech stammered but he kept his eyes lowered as he spoke. "That's very kind of you Sir, thank you," she said not having the knowledge of his name.

Jason felt awkward being much older than her and said, "Oh that's no problem Ms Wells," as he placed the box on the floor beside her feet. "Please," she smiled, "call me Trudy, Ms Wells was my mother."

She laughed softly as she spoke putting him quite at ease. Then she surprised him by asking, "Won't you sit down I just put on some tea, join me for a cup Sir."

Jason felt more at ease and said, "Well yes Miss, but only if you call me Jason. I'm already old enough and you calling me Sir and all, well…." She looked him in the face and smiled, "Jason it is then. Please have a seat."

Then she departed towards the kitchen, returning with a tray full of the hot tea and some mint cookies.

Trudy found it a bit odd to find Jason sitting on the ottoman at the end of the couch rather than a chair but thought little of it as she said facing him.

She poured them both the tea and sat back trying to avoid staring at the box.

As they sipped and got to know each other a bit Jason kept his eyes constantly glued to her sneakers. Trudy kept, quite unknowingly, or so it seemed, rotating her ankles.

Every once in a while she would snap her foot downward and make a popping sound from her anklebones. Once while doing this it popped quite loudly and she saw his head snap back.

This alerted her that he was paying quite a bit of attention to her feet. Then she blushed again and looked at the box beside him. "Damn," she cussed, "I didn't mean to startle you Jason but my feet and ankles hurt from my long days at work."

Jason turned his head away from her feet and stated that he knew that being a waitress must be hard on her feet. "You can't begin to imagine how hard it is Jason," she moaned. "This is why I decided to try this stuff in that box."

"I'd give anything to find some relief," then she laughed not wanting to sound whiney to her neighbor.

Jason felt as if his deceased wife was encouraging him.

He looked at the box and a thought just "came to him" as he said, "Well Miss Trudy, my wife, God rest her soul, used to purchase from this very same company. She found their products to be quite helpful on her feet."

He could not believe he'd had courage enough to initiate a conversation about feet to this young woman. However, having started it he continued. "In fact Miss, I'd often produce great sighs of relaxation from her as I applied some of their lotions and gadgets on her aching, swollen feet."

In time I became quite good at it. At least she seemed to enjoy my meager attempts to comfort her.

Trudy was now quite intrigued. She didn't know this older gent was widowed, not did she think anyone other than her would be familiar with "Happy Feet." Also she was beginning to feel that she might just have found someone to pamper her feet.

rudy was by no means a foot virgin. She wore a size five shoe and has had many a customer compliment her on the smallness of them. Hell she'd gotten lots of tips from a few regulars who she'd meet in the back room and allow to play with her feet.

Men are so easy when it comes to feet. She was not above watching a man crawl to her and serve her at her feet either.

She knew full well what "Happy Feet" as all about. She bought the stuff to ensure her feet stayed soft and sexy for the stupid men who would fall at them. The out of state businessmen who came in twice a month.

It sure wasn't just for the fucking ham on rye! Those truckers who'd have to park their rigs two blocks away, well it was a lot more than the meat loaf and gravy they came for.

Trudy used her feet like the other girls who worked there used their big tits – to make money! It was all a game to her and she was no rookie either.

She also liked how this stupid old man was "sneaking" peeks at her shoes. She saw him since he came in his eyes rarely left her feet. Now he's going to make this easy for her, but she would not do the same for him.

Sitting back deeply into the sofa Trudy said, "Your wife was one luck woman Jason. I'd love to have a husband who'd massage my feet for me," then she hooked him deeper adding, "but then he would have to have no sense of scent as my feet get awfully sweaty after working all day." Trudy laughed to herself as she saw the old fools cock stir at that last remark.

"Well Miss Trudy, to be sure some women's feet might give off a certain aroma but that's only if they are healthy Miss."

"I don't know Jason," she coyed, "I must be pretty healthy then. I doubt that anyone could stand my feet for long without running for the hills." Trudy had to hold back her laughter seeing beads of sweat form on his forehead, and hearing the want in his voice. She crossed her legs right over left and rocked her foot close to his face without touching him.

Jason was lost to her now. It had been so long since he'd even left his house. He had done nothing but masturbate to his foot fetish magazines since his wife passed. He had no hopes of ever finding another woman to replace his desires for feet. Yet know he was engaged in such a conversation with a woman, a younger woman at that, right across the street from him. He watched as her sneaker passed back and forth under his nose, nearly touching him. Trudy was baiting the hook now.

She kept her tease alive by cracking again and again the socket of her ankle. His eyes were focused on her bare ankle sticking out between the hem of her pants and the top of the shoe. Beads of sweat ran down his entire face. It was now just a matter of her reeling him in for she had him now, hook line and sinker.

"Jason," she asked with a soft sexy voice, "I know we've just met but since we are on the subject, and you do seem to be quite interested, would you think me odd if I asked you for a foot massage, so early in our new friendship?" Then she flashed such a baby girl smile down at him, it melted his heart away. If there was any resistance, which of course there wasn't, it vanished. She heard the only words she expected to hear, which was,"Yes Miss."

Jason reached for and was granted her foot. He untied her sneaker slowly and grabbed the heel and tugged gently. With a popping sound her foot emerged. The room soon filled with the cheesy scent of her sweaty foot. His nostrils flared which Trudy noticed. She decided to toy with her new footboy. "Do they smell too strongly for you Jason?" she mused. "If so you can stop now."

"Perhaps I've asked too much of you already. Besides I haven't even showered or anything yet and I've been in those shoes all day without my socks. They must reek, I'm sorry. Let's just forget the whole thing." This caused a pained expression to cross his face.

How could he ever get her to allow him to continue at such a lovely pair of feet? He thought then it came to him as he said, "No Miss Trudy. You have a rather distinct and appealing aroma to your foot Miss. In fact I rather find it quite pleasing if you don't mind me saying so." She smiled and said to herself "gotcha!"

"So you like the aroma of my little sweaty feet do you Jason?"

"Yes Miss I do. It smells quite nice to me."

"Then prove it or I'll snatch my foot away. Hold my sneaker to your face and let me hear you sniff my stinky foot scent deep into your lungs. Do this and you may continue."

Her tone had become quite authoritative now. She was issuing the final test of his apparent servitude. If he did this, she knew she had him in the power of her feet. Without comment he obeyed her. His face disappeared deeply into her well-worn sneaker. He held it firmly to his nose and mouth and she did indeed her the old man sniffing her stinky shoe. She laughed, out loud this time, so he could hear her. Then as he continued she said,

"From now on old man, you will daily pamper my feet just as you did your wife's all those years. You will be here at my fucking house each evening when I come home. You will serve my feet and the feet of who ever else I command you to foot slave, got it?"

Jason could hardly peel the inside of her shoe away from his face fast enough to say, "Yes Miss."

"Good boy" she said. "Now put down that damn shoe and lick my foot. I want your slave tongue to bath and sooth it for me." Jason held her tiny foot to his mouth and began at her heel. His lips puckered as he planted the first loving kiss on a foot since doing so to his wife. He sucked on her heel and lapped, as it rested inside is teeth. His nose was pressed against her sole.

The warm stickiness of it held fast to him. He loved the scent of her tiny foot. His cock grew inside his pants to a girth not long remembered. His tongue trailed to her high proud arch. He licked her sole not up and down, rather from side to side following along each wrinkle. He let none of her sweat escape his ravishing tongue. She cooed and sunk deeper into the sofa enjoying her newfound slave. Then she gasped for air as his tongue licked the valley between her big toe and the next one.

Rather than sucking her toes first, like most men did, Jason went for the tiny morsels of sweat and jam she'd created. This was most interesting to her. "Gather some of my toe jam on your bitchboy tongue and show it to me before you swallow it," she commanded. Jason complied and showed her a tiny speck of her sweat on the tip of his tongue. "Now swallow boy," she snapped, and his tongue snaked into his mouth and his Adams apple bobbed to her command.

After nearly two hours Trudy snatched her foot away from Jason and landed it directly on his swollen cock and said, "I have two feet don't I asshole?" She lifted her still shod foot in the air and said, "Now prepare for a long night of orally pampering my sweaty feet slave." Just before she drifted off to sleep she heard, "Yes Miss," and again felt his tongue do her bidding.

The End (for now)