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Storie \ Anne's Diary

  Anonimo | Feet Under The Table -  - English story | 27.01.2003

Orignally found on

This website and several others are an ad for foot fetish related phone sex.

I like to tell you a story, I think you’ll like it. It about two people at a table in a swank restaurant, a table cloth that hid much under the table and my right foot.

I was on a dinner date at this very upscale restaurant with a rather reserved, and I have to say, somewhat pompous lawyer. I had high expectations for the date (that later fizzled - no spirit of adventure in that one), so I went all out - hair up, the all purpose little black dress, a new pair of stockings and a pair of four inch heels with a delicate ankle strap. I tell you, when I looked in the mirror, I even turned myself on.

Halfway through the main course, I was starting to get a little bored, and noticed that the tablecloth was very concealing, so I started a little footsie. He gave me this sort of annoyed look that meant to say "I’m eating over here". Well! How dare he I thought. I decided to show him what it meant to disregard me like that.

As I slid my foot higher up his leg, the more uncomfortable he got, squirming in his chair. Good. He tried to ignore me, but once the sole of my shoe was against his crotch - he no longer could. He started saying things like "This is a public place, someone will see". His protests only made me more determined. Soon, his hand slipped under the table to adjust himself to a more comfortable position. That’s when I had him. Rod stiff straight up, my foot could now place the needed pressure along his whole length. I rocked my foot, alternating between pressing on the bulge in his pants and pushing my heel under his balls. He tried to look natural, keep eating, but he couldn’t. I could see his knuckles whiten as he gripped the utensils. I debated leaving him hard and frustrated, but decided that making him cum in the middle of the restaurant would actually be a better revenge. Just a little more, I thought. I was right - suddenly he lets out this loud "sneeze" and knocks the wine glass over. I just sat there with a little smile on my face.

We skipped dessert, he couldn’t get out of there fast enough. Made some excuse about having to meet a client and gave me cab fair. What a wuss. I see him every now and again when he comes to the firm I’m a clerk at. He never makes eye contact, but I catch sneaking looks at me, ones mixed with desire and fear. I think I like that. He has no idea what he is missing.

Now I’ll bet you have an adventurous spirit, why don’t you give me a call and we can have our own little adventure.