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Storie \ Front Row Seat

  Dead Parrot | Feet Under The Table -  - Storia erotica in italiano | 25.12.2008

Summary: Man watches his wife in action from a distance.
Distribution: May be copied to your website provided you include this preface. Please visit

Author's Note: This story was inspired by, and is dedicated to, the hottie who worked in the eye clinic in our downtown skywalk.

A few days ago my whole life, or rather the life I thought I was living, turned upside down in the space of an hour. I'm living a completely new existence now, it's unfamiliar, but it's beyond anything I could have possibly imagined.

Here's what my life used to be like: I'm 40 years old and my wife Tammy just turned 30. We've been married for 8 years and have a 5 year old son, Ben and a 3 year old daughter, Hayley. Both Tammy and I have college degrees and white collar jobs. We live in a typical upper middle class suburb complete with matching SUVs. We're pretty much your standard issue yuppies, trendy lifestyle and all.

Now, let me tell you a bit about my wife Tammy as she is the star player in my life, the old one and especially the new. She's short and petite, five foot two inches tall without heels. She's got a slim, slightly athletic build, B cup tits and wavy dark blonde hair that hangs down to the middle of her back. Her eyes are a brilliant green, and her voice comes from the angels themselves. She is a real beauty. When we got married some folks told me she was out of my league, but hey, she seemed like she was into me, so I didn't question anything.

I thought I knew my wife from our 8 years of marriage and 2 of courtship. But, I was wrong, very wrong. Here's what happened.

Last weekend I was at home working on the sink in our kitchen. Out in the living room and I could hear Tammy talking to one of her new co-workers, Tisha. They had met the previous week and had quickly become close friends. Tammy and Tisha had just returned from a shopping expedition and were now relaxing on our sofa. I was halfway paying attention to their yapping as I went about my business.

Their conversation eventually turned to Tisha's teenage son, Devon. My ears perked up though when Tisha said she suspected that Devon had a foot fetish. Now, I definitely have a foot fetish, but in all our years of marriage I'd never had the courage to tell Tammy about it. She wasn't a shoeplayer and had never initiated any sexual teasing or contact with her feet. The few times I'd tried to massage her feet she'd stopped me saying they were too sensitive to touch.

This was especially bad for me since Tammy had such great legs and perfect little size five feet. Because of her job as a paralegal working downtown she had to wear skirts, heels and hose every weekday. That was like torture to me, having such treasures so close to me every day and night and not having the balls to tell Tammy about my fetish and work out some sort of compromise.

Well, Tammy listened to Tisha talking about her son's possible foot fetish. Tisha said she had found some pictures and stories on her son's computer at home and was concerned about it. Tammy said she knew nothing about fetishism, but joked that at least Devon couldn't get a girl pregnant or get a disease if he was after her feet.

That made Tisha laugh and relax a little bit. Tammy asked to see a photo of Devon and commented on his being very handsome. That started another round of concern from Tisha as her son was starting to attract, and to seek, female attention at his high school. Eventually though the girls moved on to another topic and I ceased my eavesdropping.

Well, as the days passed Tammy and Tisha's conversation was forgotten amid the push and pull of everyday life. Then on Thursday I went to an early lunch at the Olive Garden to meet a new client. I'd arrived first and so secured a table near the back of the restaurant. Right behind my table was a large potted plant, and next to that were a set of steps that led up to a raised seating area of the restaurant. There were several long tables set up there and my eyes were almost at floor level to this area. However, my view was slightly obscured by a railing and other potted plants.

After a few minutes of waiting for my client and nursing a drink I heard the approaching footsteps and conversation of a large group of people behind me. Some of the voices were familiar, so I turned in my chair to see who I was hearing. Between the leaves and branches of the plant behind my chair I saw what turned out to be about a dozen people from Tammy's law firm, and they were now climbing the steps up to the raised seating area. All of the secretaries and paralegals were present, and I saw my beautiful wife and Tisha amidst the crowd.

Tammy was looking particularly gorgeous that day. She was wearing a tight white skirt that ended a few inches above her knee and a long sleeved pink blouse. On her legs were tan pantyhose with dark reinforcements on the toes and heels. A pair of white, patent leather slingbacks with four inch heels completed her outfit. And of course her hair and makeup were perfect. Tammy was the epitome of the hot young female professional. I grinned, quite proud that she was mine.

Walking on the other side of her friend Tisha was a young man that I did not recognize. This must be Devon. He was a good looking kid a few inches taller than his mother. He had strong facial features, very dark skin, and had inherited his mother's big eyes and toned, runner's body. He was wearing a white shirt and a tie with tan slacks and loafers.

My mind then made the connection that this was one of those "take your son or daughter to work" days. That explained why he was at his mom's office on a school day.

Although I could barely hear what was being said up there, Devon was obviously being very polite and well mannered. However I could see that he was uncomfortable with the crowd and the attention being directed at him. Being shy myself at that age, I could understand his position.

For a moment I thought about getting up to say hello to them but I didn't want to miss meeting my client, who by the way was already late for our appointment. So I remained seated and made sure that I had all my sales materials in order. When I looked up again I saw that Tammy and her party had been seated around a long, narrow table right next to the railing by where I was sitting. Tammy's back was to me, and Devon was sitting directly across from her with his mother seated to one side of him.

From this angle, I got a pretty good view of my wife's legs. She was so close I could have touched her had I stood up and reached through the railing. As it was, I sat back and relished seeing Tammy slowly and sensually cross her legs. I really had to get my act together and tell her about my fetish!

My thoughts were broken when some silverware clattered to the floor at their table. Tisha looked around, embarassed, and I saw that when she had tried to open her rolled napkin, she'd dropped some of her eating utensils on the floor. As her colleages gently kidded her, Devon nodded to his mom and said something briefly before getting out of his chair and kneeling down to retreive the fallen items.

As soon as he slid his chair back from the table I saw my wife roll the ankle and flex the toes on the foot of her crossed leg. This caused the smooth, reinforced nylon heel of her foot to pop free of the heel strap of the slingback. Relaxing her foot slightly, the vamp of her high heel shoe slid down her instep, and the empty back of the shoe was pointed at the ground. Only Tammy's flexed toes, clad in dark brown reinforced nylon, kept the dangling size five slingback from tumbling to the floor.

At the same time, she shuffled off the slingback on her other foot. The high heel fell on its side and Tammy rested her hosed foot atop the side of the empty shoe, slowly flexing her nyloned toes up and down.

When Devon went under the table he could not help but notice my sexy wife's legs and feet in such close proximity to him.
The effect Tammy's shoeplay had on Devon was extraordinary. His eyes immediately locked onto Tammy's dangling shoe as she rocked her knee a bit, causing the precariously perched slingback to sway back and forth on her toes. Then his head snapped downward to ogle my wife's other stockinged foot as she toyed with the empty high heel lying on the carpet.

I could see the shock and excitement in Devon's eyes as he took in this incredible sight.

It was then that the memory of Tammy and Tisha's conversation about Devon possibly having a foot fetish suddenly jumped to the forefront of my mind.

Seeming to panic, Devon hastily tried to return to his seat and in doing so hit the back of his head on the bottom of the table. Now it was his turn for a bit of ribbing as, red faced, he sat down in his chair and cast a nervous glance at my wife. No one had made the connection that his clumsiness was a result of Tammy's actions.

The waitress arrived to take their drink orders, and as she did so I saw Tammy replacing both her shoes and cross her legs again. I tried to make sense of what I'd just seen. Tammy had very deliberately taken advantage of that situation to give the boy a "test" based on the conversation she'd had with Tisha last week. And the teen had passed that surprising test with a bruised head. Why had she done that? I'd never really noticed Tammy overtly teasing other men before.

Of course I knew the effect Tammy's appearance had on the male of the species (and a few of the females as well). I'd taken some pride in the lusty looks she so often recieved, but I was confident she had never cheated on me. Confident until this moment though.

Could my beautiful wife really be a secret cocktease? Had she ever cheated on me? And where had she learned to dangle her shoe like that?

My waitress broke me out of that worst case scenario daydream to take my food order. The client I was scheduled to meet had not yet arrived, and my cell phone and blackberry were silent. This was good luck as I needed time to think. Sending the young girl off with my menu selections, I settled back into my dazed thoughts once again.

Maybe I was taking this thing too far? Tammy was just having some fun. That's what women do right, things like that to get a rise out of men just to reinforce their own sex appeal? After all she hadn't touched him, or even tied to. Yet she had brilliantly played directly to his alleged weakness, now all but confirmed from his lips.

I looked back up at my wife's table and saw them enjoying their drinks and appetizers. Their conversation was light and laughter came easily. Devon still seemed at bit rattled by what he'd seen, but actually encountering a beautiful woman like my wife who put on a little show for him probably overwhelmed him. I know I would have been at that age. How much experience did this kid have with girls? Probably not much, so that only made it worse.

About that time my blackberry went off and it was my loser of a client. She was cancelling our appointment nearly 20 minutes after the fact. Oh well.

My main course arrived and I munched on it while glancing up at my wife and her friends. Tammy was calmly and casually conversing with one of the men seated next to her while Devon was trying to pay attention to what sounded like a long winded story being told by the older secretary seated next to him.

Then my eyes tracked on some new movement under the table.

Tammy was uncrossing her legs, and then she extended one of them out in Devon's direction. Carefully feeling around with the open toe of her slingback, Tammy located one of Devon's loafers and placed her shoe on top of his.

As Devon reflexively pulled his foot away I felt a sudden tightness in my chest and my crotch. No, that was an accident, Tammy's just stretching, I told myself.

Then I watched my wife move her slingback clad foot yet again, probing around the area in front of Devon's chair and once again finding and placing her shoe atop his loafer. Her high heel was pressed into the tip of his shoe while the toe was resting on the boy's socked instep.

Devon jumped in his seat and tried to pull away again, sending a panicked look at Tammy. But my wife kept up the hide and seek under the table. Wherever the teen tried to move within the limited space, Tammy's high heel slingback followed him, pressing down against one of his shoes or brushing gently against his ankle.

Tisha noticed Devon's fidgety state above the table and it looked like she was admonishing him to sit still and continue listening to her co-workers stories. It was obvious that she knew nothing about what Tammy was doing to her son under the table.

As for me, I could no longer hear the hubub of conversation around me, the clatter of dishes and silverware or the pumped in muzak. Nor did I care about lunch, clients or sales anymore.

I could only feel my heart hammering away in my chest as I watched my sexy wife's little nyloned foot, clad a high heel slingback, rubbing slowly up, down and around Devon's socked ankle under the table. Her movements were slow and deliberate as she alternated caressing the inside and then the outside of his ankle. She made sure to give the teen equal strokes of the slingbacks' leather sole and her soft, stockinged instep.

Since her back was to me I couldn't see Tammy's face, but she sounded like she was carrying on a normal conversation with her co-workers. Devon however was facing me, and he was the proverbial open book. He was leaning forward in his chair and with wide eyes was forcing himself to focus on what someone else several seats down the the table was saying to him. I saw him swallow hard a couple of times and flick his eyes nervously over in my wife's direction.

All the while Tammy's high heeled foot lovingly nuzzled his ankle under the table, and no one seemed to have a hint that she was doing this.

When Tammy pulled her foot away from the teen's leg a couple of minutes later I thought that she was done with him. I again thought that this was some harmless little teasing that I could live with. Now my heart rate and breathing could return to normal.

And maybe the erection I had in my pants, the one I was trying to ignore and avoid admitting I had while I watched my beloved wife playing footsie with a teenage boy, would go away.

I was not to be so fortunate. Tammy had merely backed off for a moment as someone at the other end of the table had bent over to retrieve a dropped napkin.

Tammy immediately moved her high heeled foot back to Devon's shoe. She spent a few more minutes exploring the contours of his ankle with her sexy shoe. As her strokes against the teenager's leg became firmer and longer, the thin restraining strap that wrapped around the back of her reinforced nylon heel began to slip down off her foot. Soon the slingback was once again dangling off my wife's toes as she continued to tease Devon. Lowering her foot to the carpeted floor Tammy relaxed her toes and with a gentle kicking motion, withdrew her foot from the patent leather slingback.

My wife's shapely little size five foot, sheathed in tan RHT nylon, was now free of the high heel shoe. Leaving the slingback lying on its side on the floor, Tammy began to straighten her leg, and as she did so I saw her tightly curl her delicate nyloned toes before flexing them upward a few times.

I gripped the arms of my chair, my knuckles white as my sexy wife's stockinged foot lightly skimmed up the inside of Devon's calf. The teen jumped and coughed as he felt the touch of Tammy's shoeless foot against his trouser leg. His mother gave him a worried look and then motioned for him to drink some water. After a few tantalizing strokes up and down the inside of his calf, my wife dropped her high arched foot back down on top of Devon's shoe. Tammy placed her nimble toes at the base of his shin bone and was slowly wiggling them against his socked leg.

Devon tensed up and shifted nervously in his seat. He again glanced at Tammy, a look of fear and...helplessness in his eyes. My wife appeared to be her usual charming self, just chatting and eating lunch as if it were another day. I so wished I could see her face, but I suppose the view I had was enough.

And in that respect I was right.

Tammy began to inch her nyloned toes up under the hem of Devon's pants leg. As she slid her foot up his shin bone the fabric of his pants began to bunch up around her ankle. Tammy pushed her foot as far as she could up the front of Devon's trouser leg. She had exposed part of his lower leg above his sock, and the dark skin contrasted starkly with her tan hose. I could only see my wife's ankle and heel now, the rest of her stockinged foot was underneath his pants leg. The khaki fabric rippled and wrinkled in waves just below his knee, signaling how far up her wiggling toes had reached.

Leaving her shoeless stockinged foot nestled comfortably up her teenage victim's pants leg, Tammy carried on with eating and talking to her co-workers. As she enthusiastically laughed and joked with a few people at the other end of the table it amazed me that she was able to do so with such nonchalance. Her casual demeanor was entirely unforced, and again I wondered if such behavior had ever masked any infidelity in the past.

But I had little time to think on the subject as Tammy began moving her foot again. Pulling it free of the bunched up fabric around his knee, my wife began stroking the bare skin above Devon's sock. She had flexed her toes upward and was using the bottom of her toes and the ball of her nyloned foot to massage his shin and knotted calf muscle .

The teen shifted nervously in his chair again as he endured the soft yet scratchy sensation of my wife's stockinged foot against his bare skin. His face was tense and every few seconds he would glance around the table, obviously fearing discovery. His mom got the most searching looks, and his eyes reserved very quick, panicked pleas for mercy from his beautiful tormenter.

But Tammy didn't appear to be in the mood to stop anytime soon. Her slippery reinforced nylon toes were now trying to hook around the exposed top of Devon's sock. She couldn't quite slide her toes in between his skin and the sock, but that didn't stop my wife from trying a half dozen times. With each attempt she only succeeded in pushing the sock lower and giving her stockinged foot more exposed naked skin to stroke and tease. Devon tried moving away from her foot again, but with so little room under the table the teen had no escape.

Devon's slight movement caused the bunched up pants leg around his knee to fall back down to his ankle, covering his leg again. Tammy took this in stride and simply began to slide her high nyloned arch up and down Devon's trouser covered calf muscle. During each extended caress my wife would roll her ankle around or turn her foot further into his leg and curl her toes against him. She did everything possible to get the most contact between the teen's leg and her little stockinged foot. Such expert footsie technique had me again wondering if Tammy had ever done this before.

I was startled out of my trance by my waitress, and I'm afraid I jumped a bit in my seat, startling her in turn. After assuring her I was ok, didn't need any more food, and that my daydreaming wasn't her fault, she left me with the check and a warily amused offer for more drinks if I wanted any.

It was then that I once again became aware of the raging hard on between my legs. Oh god, what was happening to me? The thought of my hot little wife directing her sexual attention to another male was exciting me, more than exciting me! I felt aroused beyond belief, and at the same time more than a little guilty. Was I now a confirmed cuckold? One who enjoyed it?

Anxiously returning my attention to the action under my wife's table, I saw that she was continuing to escalate the sexual tension between her and the teenage boy. Tammy's leg was stretched out even further than before, and it looked like she was polishing Devon's trousered kneecap with the sole of her stockinged foot. My wife's high nyloned arch fitted perfectly over the curve of his knee, and she rubbed back and forth over it for several minutes.

I glanced up at Devon. He looked a little pale and was nervously picking at the food on his plate. I swear I saw his hands shaking. I could only imagine what he was going through sitting there being stimulated by my hot young wife. How much sexual experience did he have? Could he keep his cool if Tammy kept this up?

One thing was certain, if the boy didn't have a foot fetish before he walked into the restaurant today, my wife was going to make sure he had one by the time lunch was over.

Devon coughed again and hastily grabbed for his glass of water. They were kidding him about eating too fast, even though most of his food was still on his plate untouched. The boy's source of distress was now slithering along lower part of his inner thigh.

My entire body was tensed up and my stiff erection pressed painfully against my zippered fly as I watched my beautiful blonde wife sliding her little stockinged foot up Devon's inner thigh. Her reinforced nylon toes rubbed in slow circles from his kneecap to the middle of his thigh, and then back down again. On each seductively slow stroke Tammy would curl her toes against his tensed leg muscle after she'd reached her stopping point. My wife would then twist her ankle so that the sole and arch of her foot were pressed into his thigh and proceed to drag her size five foot back down to his kneecap. And on each upstroke it looked like my wife's foot was reaching higher and higher along his thigh.

It was obvious that Devon was fighting desperately for his composure by now. Even from this distance I thought I could detect the reflection on his forehead: a light sheen of sweat. Tammy was pushing the teen hard with her very talented little nyloned foot, and she seemed determined to push him past his limits, even with all of her co-workers, and his mother, sitting there.

And I was sitting here too, watching, more sexually excited than I'd ever been in my life.

I glanced down at my plate and tried to take a bite of my chicken. I had about as much success as Devon. We both just played with our food, but he was getting the much better end of the deal as his stomach was no doubt tight from sexual arousal. Mine was heavy with guilt. But I still had that monster of a boner. All the while this was happening Tammy and Devon's mom chatted like old friends. There was no indication at all that Tammy was up to anything frisky under the table.

But my sexy wife was way beyond frisky. Her foot was now touching Devon's inner thigh at a point just short of his crotch, and her stockinged toes flirted with the material of his trousers where the inseam meets the fly. It was then that I finally became aware of Devon's erection.

The crotch of the teen's pants bulged outward and upward. His trapped cock, probably harder than it had ever been before in his young life, pressed angrily against the confining fabric of his trousers. The cotton prison was stretched tight against him, and it seemed that it would burst from the strain of containing such raw lust.

And my beautiful blonde wife's slowly wiggling stockinged toes were less than inch away from this.

Devon was going nuts trying to control himself. If he had sat up any straighter in his chair or been any tenser I'd be afraid the boy would sprain something. He had his hands resting on top of his thighs and his fingers were balled up into tight fists. Every now and then he'd squeeze his eyes shut for a moment, and then snap them open again, probably praying no one would find out what was happening.

As dessert was served Tammy turned her attention above the table to Devon. I watched as she leaned forward and placed one elbow on the table. Resting her chin in her hand, she was apparently staring straight at him as she spoke. Meanwhile, under the table, Tammy let her little nylon covered foot drift ever so lightly over the teen's obscenely swollen crotch. He shuddered for a split second and was wild eyed with panic. He recovered wonderfully though by faking a yawn, even going so far as to stretch his arms over his head.

But his covering gambit only helped him for a few seconds. When he was done Tammy hadn't moved at all, above or below the table. She was still in the same pose, talking to him, asking him questions. His lips moved as he responded but his short answers didn't satisfy my wife, so she kept at him in a lighthearted manner. As he tried to speak I could see the fabric covering his engorged crotch dimple slightly as my wife gently pressed her stockinged foot into his solid erection. Tammy left her foot resting against his cotton covered shaft, every so often flexing her ankle a bit or curling her toes against the bulge.

All the while she kept talking to him, asking him questions and trying to make him the center of attention as her foot fondled the large rigid lump between his legs. No doubt my wife had a bit of a sadistic streak in her as she tried to keep this sweating, squirming teenage boy talking to his fellow diners while she gave him a stockinged footjob under the table.

I was startled for a moment when Tisha stood up, but there was no cause for panic. She excused herself and headed in the direction of the bathroom. When she out of earshot I heard Devon coughing. I looked over and had a clear view of my wife's pink polished toenails, covered by a dark brown reinforcement of nylon, stroking provocatively along the trouser covered outline of Devon's rock hard cock.

The teen's throbbing rod pressed vainly against the restraining fabric of his pants, and Tammy's size five foot was slowly exploring every single inch of it. My wife traced the impressive length of his erection, from balls to engorged cockhead, with the tips of her stockinged toes. She prodded his swollen testicles and repeatedly curled her toes over the tip of his erection. Finally, she pressed the sole of her foot against his trapped cock and nudged it until it was sticking as straight up as possible within the confines of his trousers.

Devon was leaning forward and staring at the pie on the plate in front of him with all the intensity he could muster. His fingers gripped his fork so tight that they, and his knuckles, were turning white. He shut his eyes and opened his mouth before clamping it shut. It wouldn't be long now, and Tammy obviously sensed the teen was on the edge of a powerful orgasm. My tempting wife then made sure that he got one.

Tammy flexed her toes upward and placed the ball of her foot at the broad base of Devon's erection. Pressing her toes down she began to rub up and down the underside of his throbbing shaft with her stockinged foot. At the top of each stroke Tammy would curl her toes over the top of his bloated cockhead. After her foot had swept up and down the length of the teen's cock a few times I saw Tammy's leg muscles flex as she applied more pressure...and began moving her size five foot faster and harder against the overstimulated bottom of Devon's pulsing length.

The teen was utterly helpless and beyond his breaking point as my sexy wife jerked him off under the table with her stockinged foot. Tammy was using the sole of her foot to masturbate him now, pumping his steely rod up and down in an absolutely merciless rythym intended to make her teenage victim cum in his pants.

Devon did well though. When his face first betrayed an uncontrollable grimace he took a quick sip of water and pretended to choke on it. As he coughed and shook, I knew that my devilish wife had accomplished her mission. As the secretary sitting to his right side pounded his back and told him to breathe the other people at the table looked on with concern, believing the teen was choking. Only Tammy remained cool and uninterested. She casually dabbed at her mouth with her napkin.

Under the table, Tammy's size five relentlessly milked the boy's shrinking erection as he finished emptying the contents of his balls into his pants. Her toes pressed and kneaded along the full length of his cock, forcing every drop of cum out of his shaft. I could see the massive wet stain on the crotch of his pants underneath Tammy's foot as she gradually slowed her movements to a gentle massage.

As Devon calmed down and began to breathe again I almost laughed at the goofy, shell shocked expression on his face. He was blinking rapidly and taking deep breaths. Then he smiled, and laughed. Everyone must have thought he was making light of his "choking" incdient. But the truth was that now he knew what an orgasm could do for your attitude, especially when it was provided by a hot blonde MILF who knew your exact weakness.

The table returned to normal and Devon was grinning from ear to ear. He tried not to stare at my wife, but he did give her a few looks that combined relief, gratitude, amazement and hopeless puppy love. Tammy had made a new fan for life. But it remained to be seen if she'd indulge her teenage groupie again.

Tammy had removed her foot from Devon's crotch and had replaced her shoes. As she and her group began paying their bills I took care of mine as well and tried to leave before I could be seen and recognized.

But as I was paying my bill I heard my wife and her friends passing behind me. I clearly heard Tammy invite Tisha and Devon over to our house Saturday to use the jacuzzi. She said she'd get a babysitter and then we could all go out to dinner and a movie afterwards.

It was then I realized that my devious wife had additional plans for Devon. Where they would end, I hadn't a clue.

With my hard cock still thinking for me I felt myself surrendering to the situation. Tammy was in the driver's seat, and her size five foot was firmly planted on the accelerator.

I felt myself wishing she'd press it...and never let up.