Discreetly Playing With Her Sexy Wrinkled Soles

Published early as a preview here in our chat forum on Thursday, November 23, 2023.

Official publication date for the main page of our site: Saturday, November 25, 2023.

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Author's note: Names have been changed to protect identities, and so have some of the details.

After making the rounds from room to room for a while, I walked into the den, which I had already walked through a couple of times, and I saw a friend of mine named Paul talking to an attractive woman I'd never met before. They were the only two people in the room. Paul was sitting in a chair in the back corner of the den, and the woman with him had sat down on the floor next to him even though there was an empty chair next to him. She was sitting on the back of her legs. I love women who sit like that, especially when they're barefoot with their bare soles exposed. She had taken off her shoes to be more comfortable.

When Paul saw me, he called me over to introduce me to Cherie. When I looked down at her exposed soles, I almost gasped out loud with excitement because I was instantly reminded of Water Goddess. If you open up the picture that I included here, you'll see what Cherie's soles looked like in the position that she was in.

That picture of Water Goddess was forever seared into my mind, and so too was my vision of this attractive woman's soles when I first had the pleasure of seeing them. Somehow, though, I kept my composure to make it through the introductions.

When Cherie looked like she was going to stand up to shake my hand, I told her that she shouldn't get up for me. With a laugh, I promptly sat down next to her, and I reached out my hand to shake hers.

"Ah," I said with a happy smile, "I like the view from here."

... ... ...

Cherie couldn't possibly know that I meant her sexy wrinkled soles. She likely thought that I was being flirtatious about how attractive she is.

"I like the view from here, too," she returned my flirtatious tone.

"I didn't want to interrupt your conversation," I told Cherie and Paul. "Please continue as if I'm not even here."

"Well, in that case," Paul joked, "do I have some things to say about you!"

"Very funny," I replied with a laugh.

"Oh good. Dish it out to me," Cherie giggled.

"So what WERE the two of you talking about before I walked into the room?" I asked them.

"He was telling me about how he got into the business," Cherie answered.

"Then I must let him continue," I told her. "What he's imparted to me played a pivotal role in the success that I've had over the years."

"Thanks," Paul said to me. "But you would have succeeded without me."

"I'd like to think so," I told him. "Either way, and you already know this, I'm very grateful for what I've learned from you."

"Seriously," I turned to say to Cherie, "you'll learn a lot from Paul just by listening to what he's gone through to make it."

Then I turned to Paul again to say, "That's your cue. Carry on."

Just a few moments after Paul continued his story about how he got into the business, Cherie twisted her svelte, and sexy body a little bit in his direction to put her focus more on him while he talked. When she adjusted herself, her left foot brushed up against my right leg where it landed a little bit underneath my thigh since my thigh was lifted up a bit because of how I was sitting.

I was pretty sure that Cherie hadn't moved her foot there on purpose, so I was surprised that she left it where it was. I expected her to move her foot away when she felt it bump into my leg, but then she could have also not noticed bumping into my leg at all. I couldn't know for sure one way or the other. The only thing I did know for sure was that her left foot was resting up against my right leg.

Because of the way that Cherie was positioned to focus on Paul, and because we were in the corner of the den with me sitting right next to Cherie, her sexy wrinkled soles could only be seen by me.

Deep down, I knew that it wouldn't be right for me to start playing with Cherie's feet without her explicit permission. Even touching them would be inappropriate if not criminal. On the other hand, as I tried to justify in my mind what I wanted to do, her foot did touch my leg even if she hadn't meant to touch me.

Was that on purpose? Not likely.

As I was contemplating what to do, or what not to do, after Paul told his story about how he got into the business, he and Cherie got into a normal conversation that went back and forth. Sometimes she'd ask a question, and he'd do most of the talking to answer her question, and then he'd ask a question, and she'd do most of the talking to answer his question.

While that was going on, I very gently laid a couple of my fingers down onto the sole of Cherie's left foot just below her pinky toe. There was no response, so I figured that she may not have felt what I had done. I lifted my fingers up, and then I gently laid them back down again onto the same place. Once again, there was no response, so I once again figured that she may not have felt what I had done.

This time, I lightly glided those two fingers in circles to about half way up the sole of her foot, and then over to the middle of her sole. When she scrunched her toes up a little bit in response, I traced those two fingers back down to her toes until she relaxed them, and then I gently pressed them down onto base of her toes next to her big toe.

Cherie reacted by scrunching her toes again to grasp those two fingers with her toes, which kind of locked my fingers into place. I figured that she probably knew then that I had been discreetly touching her right foot.

Would she get upset, and tell me to stop? Or would she be intrigued and excited, and allow me to continue?

A moment later when she relaxed her toes again to release my fingers, I placed my entire right hand onto her left foot to lightly trace the sole of her foot with my fingers, and my thumb. This time she reacted by reaching around her back with her left arm to gently grasp onto my right leg. She gave my thigh a couple of slow squeezes before she pulled her arm back. It was as if she wanted to silently show her appreciation for what I was doing, which for me meant that she had given tacit approval that it was okay for me to continue.

I was very happy about that, and I was very relieved.

While their conversation continued, I used my right hand's fingers, and thumb to lightly tickle, and massage the sole of her left foot. I moved on to the toes of her left foot as well, and then I did the same to her right foot. Every once in while to act as a subterfuge while I held my iPhone up in my left hand as if I was focused on the screen, I would momentarily remove my right hand from her feet, and tap my iPhone as if I was actually using it. Then I would discreetly drop my hand down to stimulate, and pleasure her feet with my fingers, and my thumb.

I figured that if Paul were to glance in my direction, which he rarely did because he was deeply engaged in that conversation, it might look like I was busy on my iPhone. I also thought that Cherie would appreciate the subterfuge, and that the way I was playing with her feet so discreetly would help to give her an excitingly naughty, and unique experience.

I lost track of time, so I don't know how long this went on, but Paul finally interrupted his conversation with her to go to the bathroom. That gave her and me a bit of time to have a conversation of our own.

As soon as Paul was out of earshot, Cherie said to me with a very happy smile, "What you've been doing feels amazing! You have a really great touch!"

"It's been my pleasure," I told her. "I just wish that I could have used both of my hands."

"You did all that with one hand?" She asked.

"Yep," I answered. "Just one hand. I want you to know that I agonized about touching your feet in the first place, though, and I have to be honest about it by admitting that what I did was very inappropriate."

"Yeah, it kind of was," she laughed, "but I liked it, and that's what matters, right?"

"Thank you for saying that," I told her. "I'm so relieved, and yet, I'm kind of mortified for having crossed the line like that."

"But you did, and it's done, and I'm fine with it," she once again assured me. "If I hadn't been attracted to you, I probably would have just pulled your arm away, and left it at that. But you were making me feel really good, so I wanted you to keep playing with my feet."

"That's a relief," I replied, "and thank you for what I hope was a compliment."

"It was," she assured me. "You're obviously a good looking man, and as shallow as it sounds, that matters to me."

"I would say the same," I told her. "You're obviously an exceptionally attractive woman, which made it even harder for me to resist the temptation to play with your feet. Honestly, though, and maybe I shouldn't be admitting this, but with perfect feet likes yours, I would have still been tempted to play with them even if you were unattractive."

"You think my feet are perfect?" She blushed.

"Absolutely!" I assured her. "That isn't as common as you might think with women who are extraordinarily attractive like you are."

"Extraordinarily attractive?" She asked rhetorically. "Extraordinarily?"

"Of course you are," I once again assured her. "I'm sure that people ask you all the time if you're a model, right?"

"Not as much as you might think," she answered.

"Well," I drawled, "I'm not going to ask you that."

"You're not?" She asked.

"Nope," I answered. "I'm just going to presume that you're a model."

"Clever," she replied with a laugh. Then she changed her tone to ask a question. "Can I ask you something about your friend?"

"Sure," I told her. "What would you like to know?"

"Is he one of those casting couch kind of producers?" She asked.

"Not in the traditional sense," I told her. "I mean, sure, he sleeps with actresses, but that's not part of his audition process. He's a straight up professional who never engages in any of that usual quid pro quo stuff."

"For real?" She asked incredulously.

"For real," I assured her. "That's just who he is. Period."

"Okay," she replied. "Good to know. I was just asking. You never can know for sure."

"That's true," I told her. "You can never really know for sure."

"Look," she pleaded, "even if you're really good friends with him, can you please not tell him that I asked? It'd be embarrassing."

"I won't say anything to him," I told her, "and please don't say anything to him about the foot fetish fun that I had with you."

"Isn't that a quid pro quo kind of thing?" She laughed.

"You've got me there," I admitted. "I suppose it is."

"So I guess you two aren't that close, then, right?" She asked.

"We're close enough," I told her, "but we're not that close. We're friends because we've known each other for a long time, but that's it. In this business a lot of us have a lot of friends. It kind of goes with the territory. I guess it's kind of a networking thing."

When Paul came back, he told us that he had a work related issue that he had to take care of, so we bid him our farewells. Cherie then headed out off for a pee break, and to find the friend she came with to make sure that she still had a ride to get back home.

"I'll be sure to say good-bye before I leave," she told me.

I headed to another bathroom in the opposite direction to pee, and then I went back into the den to wait for Cherie to come back.

"Can you believe it?" She said with a frown on her face. "My girlfriend took off without me."

"Why would she do that?" I asked.

"She's a little flighty," she answered, "and this isn't the first time that it's happened."

"Maybe you should find a better friend," I told her.

"I probably should," she replied. "I guess I'll just get an Uber."

"I can drive you home," I told her. "That way, you won't have to wait."

"That's very nice of you," she said, "but I don't want you to leave early on my account."

"First of all," I explained, "it's not that early, and second of all, I'm ready to go anyway. I just want to say good-bye to our hostess."

"Are you sure?" She asked. "You don't even know where I live. What if I told you I lived fifty miles away?"

"I'd tell you that it wasn't a problem," I laughed, " because my car is fully charged."

"Okay," she smiled, "that would be great. But you should know that I'm only taking you up on your offer because of how great you made me feel with all of that naughty foot fetish stuff."

"It's good to know that it paid off then," I laughed, "and there's plenty more where that came from if you're ever up for it."

"Careful," she playfully teased. "I just might take you up on that offer."

"I hope you will," I told her.

When I found out that Cherie lived in a beach city just south of where I lived, I told her that was on the way to my beach house in Malibu, and that she should come over anytime that she wanted to have a relaxing day at the beach.

"You're literally on the beach?" She asked me. "And you're not married or seeing anybody?"

"I've never been married," I answered, "and I'm not seeing anybody seriously. I'm just kind of dating. And yes, I'm literally on the beach. I have a place up in the hills where I normally stay, but I'm down at my beach house all the time."

"Okay," she giggled, "I'm impressed. By the way, what do you mean you're just kind of dating."

"I have a few friends with benefits," I admitted. "I don't usually reveal that to people on the same day that I meet them, but I feel really comfortable with you, and I feel that it's okay for me to tell you that. It is okay, isn't it, or is that too much information?"

"T M I," she said with a laugh. "I'm surprised that you just didn't say T M I," she laughed again. "But that's okay. It's not too much information for me. I used to have friends with benefits, too, but then it got old, so I stopped."

"Old from bad experiences?" I asked.

"Bad enough to make me want to stop, yeah," she answered. "And the few that I had left moved on to vanilla relationships."

"That's happened to me, too," I told her. "But in my case, I didn't really have any bad experiences; at least not bad enough for me to stop altogether. My only down times have been when people moved on to have vanilla relationships, and I was kind of in between friends within benefits."

"So how many FWBs do you have now if you don't mind me asking?" She asked.

"Just two couples," I told her. "They're into foursome fun with each other, but I don't see them that often. They go through periods of time when they're not actively having sex with each other, and then it'll all suddenly start up again. They're in the business, too, but I have to remain discreet about it."

"Do any of them have a foot fetish?" She asked.

"The husbands do," I answered, "and their wives are totally into it, which includes pleasuring each other's feet."

"I think I might be that way," she admitted to me. "I mean, I don't think that I have a foot fetish, but I do appreciate women's feet when they're well cared for, so I can see myself getting naughty like that."

"They'd love you and your feet," I assured her.

"Are you trying to set me up?" She asked with a laugh.

"No," I honestly told her. "I think that I'd want you all for myself for a while at least. Maybe a long while."

"What are you saying?" She asked.

"I don't know what I'm saying," I admitted. "I just know that I'm still on a high because of what you let me do to your feet."

"I'm still on a high from it, too," she told me, "and I wouldn't mind more of the same."

"That would be fantastic!" I exclaimed. "Not to sound cliche about it, but your place, or mine?"

"I can't believe that I'm saying this to you," she told me, "but if it's alright with you, I'd like you to take me to your place on the beach if you're up for pleasuring my feet again."

"I'm more than up for it," I assured her. "I'd love to take you there."

"Would you mind if we stop by my place first so that I can get a change of clothes?" She asked. "I want to grab some personal stuff, too, like my toothbrush."

"Easy peasy," I told her. "Like I said before, it's on the way to my place."

"I haven't heard that phrase in a long time," she laughed.

"I'm surprised that your generation knows it at all," I told her.

"My generation?" She asked with another laugh. "What generation do you think I am?"

"Well," I told her, "you can't be in my generation the way that you look, so I'm guessing that you're in the generation after mine."

"I don't mind telling you my age," she said, "if you don't mind telling me yours."

"I'll be fifty two next April," I replied, "and you don't need to tell me your age. Just tell me that I was correct in thinking that you're still in your thirties."

"I hope you're not pulling my leg to get me into bed," she giggled, "because I'm a lot older then you think I am. I passed my thirties a few years ago.".

"That's really hard to believe," I truthfully told her. "After all, either my eye sight is worse than I thought, or you have really great genes."

"I'll be 42 next February," she told me.

"Get out of here," I said with a surprised look on my face. "How can that be true? You look so much younger."

"Thank you," she replied. "I don't know why I'm telling you this, but I have my face worked on from time to time, and my doctor's really good at what he does."

"I'll say!" I told her. "You'd never know by looking at you that you had any work done."

Our conversation was suddenly interrupted by our hostess Susan who said that she had been looking for Cherie because she found out that Cherie's ride had bailed on her, and Susan wanted to make sure that Cherie got a ride home.

"Thank you for looking out for me," Cherie told her. "That's very kind of you."

"Of course," Susan replied.

"I'm giving her a ride home," I told Susan.

"Oh good," Susan said to me. "You always come through in a pinch, so I was going to ask you if you could do that. Thanks."

"No worries," I told Susan, "and thank you for inviting me. As always, I had a lovely time, and I'm looking forward to hosting you again at my place."

"Thank you sweetie," she said to me. "I'll talk to you soon."

"Talk to you soon," I replied.

"Are you and Susan close," Cherie asked me after we left Susan's place.

"It's like it is with Paul, my producer friend you were talking with earlier," I explained. "I've worked with both Susan and Paul, and we have mutual friends and partners in the business who are friends with us, and vice-versa. It's that whole networking thing that I mentioned to you. And then we meet other people in the business like you who maybe only one of us knows at first until more of us, or all of us end up getting to know as a friend or an acquaintance. Most of us are more of an acquaintance to each other than we are friends."

"I know how that is," she told me. "I just don't seem to be in the loop as much as you, or Susan, or Paul."

"It's all relative," I explained. "I can go years without seeing or working with somebody, and then when we see each other, or work together again, the friendship between us picks back up again."

On the drive to her two bedroom apartment where she gave me a quick look, and then on the drive to my beach house, we got to know each other better, and we talked about all kinds of things. That made the drive to my place seem rather short.

Like me in the beginning of my career, Cherie had a little bit of success as an actress when she was in her twenties, but her income from those jobs was sporadic. So she also had regular jobs on the side to cover her expenses, which is what a large majority of actors do.

In my case I got lucky when I was cast in a small role in a long running hit show. Even though I made enough to cover my expenses, it was a struggle to stay afloat. But I also started, and operated a production company, which helped keep me active in the business even after my role in that long running hit show ended. Nonetheless, I was still struggling compared to people at the top.

My financial security came about because of investments that I made in real estate, and stocks. That's really when I became financially independent, which ironically is when my production company started to take off as well. In the entertainment business, it's either feast or famine; at least generally speaking.

There's a middle class in the industry as well. Journeyman actors are those who make a pretty decent living, but who never hit stardom. They're fine. So too are many others in the business who work regularly enough to make a good living.

As for what happens to Cherie's career pursuits, who knows? The only thing that she and I knew was about to happen in our personal lives as long as I could get us to my beach house was that we were going to have some naughty foot fetish fun together. She looked forward to it, and obviously so did I.

The first thing that we did after I gave her a tour of my place was to get naked, and relax in my hot tub. I'm not a heavy drinker, nor is she, but we did enjoy a couple of rum and cokes in the hot tub. We were pleasantly toasted. When I sucked her perfectly pedicured toes, I was a little surprised when she told me that nobody had ever sucked her toes before.

She loved having her toes sucked, and she told me that she hoped it wouldn't be the only time that I sucked her toes. I assured her it would happen at least one more time if she agreed to let me suck her toes in my bedroom.

"Let you?" She laughed. "Of course I'll let you."

When we got to the bedroom, I laid her face down on the bed completely naked. I was also completely naked just as we had been in the hot tub. The next two pictures of Water Goddess remind me of how I tickled Cherie's soles. Of course, in the pictures the guy is wearing jeans, and he's tickling her soles on a rug, so you'll have to use your imagination to see in your mind's eye how I tickled Cherie's soles.

...

Cherie's soles were more ticklish than she thought they'd be, but they weren't so ticklish that she was begging me to stop.

Quite the contrary, she told me, "I love having the soles of my feet tickled."

"And I love tickling them," I said with glee. "Your sexy naked body reacts so well to it."

"So what's next?" She asked with anticipation.

"This may sound silly to you," I told her, "but I really want to worship your feet. Will you let me do that? Can you just close your eyes, and let me worship your feet?"

"Oh, you ask so much of me," she laughed. "Of course I'll let you worship my feet. I want you to worship them."

I kissed, licked, and nibbled her soles to my content, and then I sucked on each and every single one of her toes. Sometimes I put all of her toes in my mouth at the same time as if I was having a toe sandwich. Both feet; all ten toes!

She moaned, and squirmed, and told me every once in a while that she really loved what I was doing to her feet.

"I can easily get hooked on this," she told me.

"I can, too," I replied.

"I'm already hooked," she said.

"Me, too," I told her.

Even though I wanted to fuck her that night, and she wanted me to fuck her, we resisted the temptation.

"I like that you're not pushing to fuck me like almost every other guy I've met has wanted to do," she told me. "I get it because I like to be fucked, but I don't like it when I'm expected to fuck."

"That makes perfect sense to me," I told her.

"You're not just saying that, are you?" She asked.

"No," I answered. "I'm not just saying that. I mean, I'd love to fuck your brains out right now, pardon the expression, but I can always fuck your feet instead, right?"

"Fuck my feet?" She replied. "How does that work?"

"It works like this," I told her while grabbing onto her ankles to hold them together, and slipping my cock in between the soles of her feet while she was still lying face down.

"Oh my," she giggled. "Nobody's ever fucked my feet before. I like feeling your cock in between the soles of my feet."

"I like the feeling of having my cock in between the soles of your feet, too," I told her.

In less than a minute after fucking the soles of her feet, I shot a load of cum all over her soles, and onto the back of her legs.

With a surprised look on her face when she looked back at me, she exclaimed, "Wow! That's amazing! I've never seen that before!"

"I'm glad that you're okay with it," he told me.

"Of course I am. Why wouldn't I be okay? Has anybody ever complained about it?" She asked.

"Not really," I answered, "but most women seem to find it kind of boring I guess, which I understand because it does nothing to get them off."

"But it's still fun," she replied.

"Well," I drawled. "It is for me, but it can't be that great for a woman."

"You can still get me off," she told me, "and you don't have to fuck me to get me off."

"I'd love to get you off," I told her. "Will you let me? I have some really great sex toys that I can use to get you off."

"Hmmmm," she teased. "Should I let you get me off?" She asked herself rhetorically with a pause for effect. "Yes!" She exclaimed. "Of course I'll let you get me off! I want you to get me off! Please get me off!"

The next thing I knew, I had her on her back. I used one of my surefire vibrators to stimulate her clit, and another surefire vibrating dildo to fuck her pussy that had an attachment that applies a steady pressure onto a woman's G-spot as well.

I knew that I had hit Cherie's G-spot perfectly when her body tensed up, and a moan of pleasure escaped her lips. Some women are loud, some remain totally silent, and others are in that middle ground of letting you know that a climax is imminent. When a woman's G-spot first takes control of her body, the result can be a soft climax, or a hard one, or somewhere in between. When the effect of that G-spot stimulation reaches its peak, even when it's a soft climax, it inevitably transforms into multiple orgasms that can be very intense, and last longer than a lot of women can stand.

A lot of women will squirt uncontrollably, and Cherie suddenly did.

"Oh my God!" She exclaimed. "This is fucking intense! You might have to stop."

"Let's see how much you can take," I told her just as she lifted herself up, and grabbed my shoulders to do her best to push me away.

"Please stop!" She pleaded. "I'm cumming too hard, and too many times," she gasped while digging into my back with her nails. "I can't take any more."

I didn't know her well enough to know if that was true, or not, so I stopped to play it safe.

"Oh my God!" She once again exclaimed out of breath. "Thank you for stopping! That was way too intense for me!"

"Believe me," I told her. "I didn't want to stop, but I also didn't want you to hate me for it, so I did stop."

"I don't think I could ever hate you," she told me, "I just have that feeling about you. Besides, you really know how to get a woman off, and for me personally, your foot fetish is a major bonus."

"I'm glad you feel that way," I told her while gently grabbing one of her feet to suck her toes again.

"I'm think I'm a little extra sensitive right now," she giggled while I sucked her toes. "That feels super amazing right now, even more than before."

I got her off a few more times before we laid down to sleep. In the morning when the timing seemed right, I slowly woke her up by once again kissing, nibbling and licking her soles, and sucking her toes. Her approving moans told me how much that she loved what I was doing to her sexy feet.

"You can't seem to get enough of my feet," she quietly said, "and I can't seem to get enough of you worshiping my feet."

"I'm obviously enjoying it," I told her.

"So am I," she replied. "I'm enjoying it a lot!"

I took her out for breakfast, orange juice, and coffee when she was ready to get out of bed, and then I drove her back to her place.

Over the last couple of months she's been staying overnight at my beach place with me, or up at my usual residence in the Malibu hills overlooking the ocean. So far, we've been having the same amazing time together that we had the first night and morning that we enjoyed each other. The only difference is that we now fuck regularly, which almost always includes foot fetish fun.

Neither one of us knows how long our friends with benefits relationship will last, but we're both pretty happy about what we have now. One day, and one foot fetish adventure at a time.