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The thing is, I love to tease men. My girlfriends call me a cruel bitch but that's just too bad. I've noticed that prickteasing generates less remorse and more arousal as I get older and it's just such a bounce to have a sexually desperate guy at my mercy that I refuse to apologize to the bleeding hearts. I'm 38 and I turn heads but I'm no centerfold. I do like to dress with a sexy touch which usually includes high heels and hose. I started rubbing guys noses in their own arousal in college. I do it all the time: on dates, at work, in public places. I get just as much, and often more, satisfaction out of leaving men swollen and humiliated than I do out of regular sex. So I was temping at a large company and was stuck taking notes in an all-morning meeting. I was seated at the end of a large conference table with a rather attractive man around the table's corner to my left. He made no attempt to hide his frequent glances at my legs, which I didn't really mind, until he made a great show of dropping his pen and taking an inordinate amount of time to pick it up. I could practically feel his breath on my ankles for a few seconds and when I shot him a nasty glance I received an unrepentant smirk in return. A bit of attitude adjustment was clearly necessary here and I decided to teach this clod (I'll call him Jack) something to remember bitterly for a long time. I wasn't interested in the meeting's topic, so I could devote my full attention to the task at hand (or, as things turned out, the task at foot!). In a knee length dress, plain stockings, and "sensible" tan pumps, I wasn't really dressed for this sort of adventure that day. But I was sure that I could have my clumsy suitor tied in a testosterone-soaked knot by the end of the morning. The positions that Jack and I had taken at the table were perfect; nobody could see my legs except for Jack and he had a nearly unobstructed view. I smiled into his smirking face and very deliberately unbuttoned four of the buttons on my dress to expose my legs to just below the tops of my thigh-highs. I often wear stockings instead of pantyhose and was glad I had chosen to do so today. For the next half hour or so I have him a leg exhibition that he'll never forget. I stroked my calf with my long nails, I crossed my legs repeatedly, I faced my victim and slowly let my thighs come apart, only to fold them back together before the view got too enjoyable. My friend seemed especially sensitive to watching my fingers trail slowly up the back of my leg so I did it often. When my legs were crossed, I would slowly lift my thigh then lower it, making that wonderful nylon on nylon sound. I was smirking now and the jerk was just beginning to look uncomfortable, perhaps aware that we were both stuck right where we were for the next two hours. Leg lovers like Jack are often foot lovers too, especially if a woman knows how to flirt. Like me. What I had in mind went considerably beyond flirting, though. Jack looked like he was used to getting his way; he was ripe for the tease. "Time to take the gloves off," I thought. I reached down and slowly pulled my pump off my heel with one finger. I'd let my shoe slide off my silky foot almost completely before curling my toes upward to almost reseat it. I repeated the balancing act, but shifted my hips so that my friend had to crane his neck to continue watching the show, which he did. Jack's foot fetish was confirmed. If he were smart, he would have recognized trouble on the horizon and looked away. He didn't, and this little tease continued. I was starting to enjoy myself. I remember the first time I dated a guy with a foot fetish - it was a wonderful revelation when I realized I could drive him crazy without removing anything except my shoes. Guys don't like to confess this part of their psychological makeup on first dates. I've spent many evenings with my stocking feet in some sucker's lap for an innocent "foot massage," stroking constricted pants-bound erections and trying not to laugh out loud. Anyway, when my pump hit the floor 20 minutes later there was a sigh from my trapped admirer. My red-tipped toes found the table leg and I delivered a slow foot job to this artificial phallus for the next 25 minutes or so. I've worked on the real deal so I knew exactly what I was doing. I started by stroking very slowly, wrapping my smooth toes around the furniture with all the gentle attention my voyeur would have enjoyed elsewhere. I particularly relished watching his expression as the urgency of my movements increased and I granted my wooden lover a wonderful "orgasm." My friend, however, was not so lucky and he watched this simulated sex and suffered in silence. I leaned over to my new man, pretending to be pointing to my notes for the benefit of the other meeting participants. I whispered sweetly "Want a taste?" wetly into his ear. I leaned back in my chair to enjoy his shocked and panicked expression. Then I dropped my pen right in front of his chair. The idiot took the bait, and, as he bent over, I slipped my right foot out of my shoe and quickly crossed my legs so that my nylon- sheathed toes hung about 2 inches under Jack's nose. It was a wonderful moment and my friend was nearly frantic. I was sure he would have done nearly anything to slip my damp toes into his mouth but protocol restrained him. I fanned the flames by pressing my slightly damp toes to his face and parting his lips with the reinforced stocking. When he sat up it was clear that I had won this little confrontation but there was an hour until lunch and I wasn't nearly through delivering Jack's punishment. I sat back for five minutes, letting him think about the feel and taste of my silky toes before I pulled my chair in closer to the table and placed my stocking foot on the inside of his thigh. He nearly jumped out of his chair. I let my foot travel slowly up his thigh until I found the twitching bulge in his pants and began to trace its outline with the tips of my toes. The creep was sweating by this time and began to move against my soft sole, searching for more friction and pressure. He was no longer restrained by the setting, driven by an increasingly intense need for orgasm. In response to his movements, I moved my foot away from his inflamed groin and let it rest on his knee for a few minutes before resuming my delicate attack on his erection. Again he hunched his hips in his quest for relief and again I responded by withdrawing my nylon-covered toes. But this time I moved my smooth foot about an inch from Jack's erection, hoping that he would move forward again. He did and I slid my foot another inch away from his bulging groin. He gritted his teeth but sat still so I moved my foot forward and lightly stroked his trapped organ again. Now Jack looked at me in pitiful desperation as he recognized the constraints of his trap. His chair was against the wall so he couldn't back up to escape my foot's assault. I smiled as I resumed the massage. Everything about my slow movements made Jack want to move against my foot in search of more pressure, but as soon as he did, I would temporarily remove my toes from the trapped and swollen bulge in his pants. I'd done far too much damage for Jack to exert any self-control, so the next hour was hellish for Jack and wonderful for me as my foot alternated positions between the jerk's bloated groin and his knee. Only once did Jack collect his wits enough to try to extricate himself from his increasingly maddening position. I was returning my toes to his groin when I found he had blocked my path to his vulnerable member with his hand. Undeterred, I began to rub the back of his fist very suggestively with the ball of my foot. He lasted about a minute before he couldn't stand the idea of wasting my movements on his hand and he removed the obstruction so I could resume his punishment. It didn't escape my notice that Jack also raised his hand to his nose, searching for some remnants of my scent. I found the bloated head of Jack's penis and circled and scratched at it with my pretty red-tipped toes while he attempted to retain his composure and cum at the same time. Every time he moved I'd give him this "you naughty boy" look and remove my toes from his desperate penis. I was making no effort to hide my amusement and I imagined tying him up somewhere and continuing this way for hours. I began to get a bit flustered myself as the power of my position asserted itself. At five minutes until noon I gave Jack one firm, protracted stroke, using the entire length of my pretty size 7. It was risky, but it left him right where I had intended: stranded just on the verge of relief. For the last five minutes of this meeting that Jack would never forget, I gave Jack another leg and foot exhibition to drive the last nail into his coffin. As the meeting closed, I re-buttoned my skirt and very slowly slid my silky foot back into my pump, knowing how painful a sight that would be for poor Jack. I left him there, sweating, humiliated, and wearing the unmistakable look of a man whom hadn't quite cum after hours of delicious stimulation. |
| 18.09.2002