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Storie \ Lunch Guest

  COL | Feet Under The Table -  - English story | 27.08.2002

The autumn day was sunny, windy, and full of promise. Little did I know just how promising a Saturday this was going to be. It was close to noon, and my wife Holly and I had just arrived at J.R. Dowling's, a popular restaurant on the riverfront. We had finished a hectic morning filled with shopping, and were now going to meet one of my wife's friend's for lunch. Since my wife has many friends whom I also associate with, such a meeting was a normal occurence. This time however, I was looking forward to it more than I cared to admit.

To try and distract myself from this impending encounter, I took in the sights and sounds of this well regarded restaurant. The Matrie'D took Holly and I on a meandering path between the crowded tables to our reserved booth, which commanded a splendid view of the riverfront. There were many people out and about, and pedestrians and cyclists alike filled the scenic walkway just below and outside our window.

I slid into the booth first, and Holly moved in close beside me, smiling and patting me on the thigh. I had purposely taken the interior seat, knowing that Holly's weak bladder would send her to the rest room at least three times during our meal. This was usually very irritating. I preferred to make eye contact with my wife when speaking to her. With her seated next to me, it was nearly impossible to maintain focused on her.

Today though, I would be able to focus on an entirely different person, and one who certainly piqued my interest, among other things...

Our lunch guest today was a young lady named Denise, who I have said, was one of Holly's co-workers. Denise was in her mid-20's, slim, brown haired and with a tanned and toned body that spoke of outdoor adventures rather than trendy health clubs. I had immediately noticed Denise's good looks, bright personality and quick wit when I met her six months ago. She was single, and had a seemingly endless stream of admirers that she kept at a very amused arms length. Being the typical male, I spent quite a bit of the time I was in her presence checking her out.

It was inevitable that I would compare her to my wife. Holly and I were a full 9 years older than Denise, and although Holly wore her age well, there was something about Denise that absolutely lit my fires! Probably the main contributor to this was the way Denise played to my foot fetish.

Until now, I had indulged my foot fetish primarily through magazines and the internet, with a hooker or three thrown in when I was a young man. I had not even told Holly of my fetish, even though her feet and legs were outstanding. So, I had contented myself with giving her foot rubs, trying to work up the courage to tell her I wanted more. And then Denise came along.

Denise's feet were small and well formed, and despite her active lifestyle, were smooth and soft. I knew this because of the times when she visited our house, Denise would immediately kick off her sandals after coming in the front door. I would sweat out these visits, trying not to stare and admire the shapely legs and pretty feet of my wife's friend. There were times when I was sure she caught me looking, but all I received from Denise for my transgression was a mysterious little smile. It only made me want her more.

Then, at my wife's office, there was more to look at. Because of the strict dress code, all the females there wore skirts, nylons and heels. Denise was always a sharp dresser, and the times I visited the office she would treat me to a spectacular round of shoeplay. Denise never failed to dangle her pumps when sitting at her desk, dip out of them when standing, or simply toy with her shoes under her desk if she stayed seated. The girl obviously liked being shoeless, and I certainly wasn't going to discourage her!

Just yesterday I had made my biggest mistake with Denise. I had come by to pick up my wife for lunch. Holly had been busy so I waited outside her office for a few minutes. Denise had been at her desk, on the phone talking, and her nylon sheathed legs were crossed and on display for all (especially me?) to see. The high heel pump on her crossed foot was dangling precariously off the ends of her polished toes, and I watched breathlessly as the shoe swayed back and forth like a metrotome.

Denise curled her toes and let the pump fall to the carpeted floor with a muffled thud. My hypnotic trance broken, I glanced up to see Denise staring straight at me, giving me the same little mysterious smile I'd gotten from her before. My face flushed red and I quickly walked away, knowing I'd been busted. Denise certainly knew my secret now.

I hadn't seen her again that day, and now wondered what, if anything, she would say to me about it today.

"Hi guys, nice to see you two." The cheerful, melodious voice of Denise brought me back to reality. I turned in my seat to greet her and was figuratively floored. Standing there was a true vision of beauty and grace. Denise wore a dark dress with a jacket, navy hose, and suede pumps. Her brown shoulder length hair was slightly curled at the tips, and her glossy red lips seemed more sensuous now than I had ever seen them before. For a brief moment, I had a startlingly clear vision of those lips wrapped around my cock.

I stammered a greeting, but my wife was already engaging Denise in conversation. Listening politely to Holly, Denise locked eyes with me for a moment as she removed her jacket before sitting down. The dress she had on underneath was sleeveless, and I glimpsed her red fingernails as she folded the jacket and set it aside. Then Denise gracefully slid into the cushioned bench across the table from us.

She was smiling wide, and we all began talking and debating what to order from the menu. Denise seemed to be looking at me more than usual, playful glances mixed with an almost sultry smirk that, in addition to a whiff of her delicious perfume, had my pulse rate climbing. The waiter arrived before anything else could pass between us, and we began to order.

Then I felt it, a touch on my ankle. I jumped a little in spite of myself, and the girls inquired if I was ok, the waiter merely giving me a curious look. I swallowed and said I was fine, just ready to eat. Denise gave me a meaningful glance, then turned her attention back to the waiter.

But the touch was still there. Gentle and warm, I felt the distinct sensation of nylon covered toes making lazy circles of my anklebone. Holly was not seated in the proper position to do this, and there was no one else at the table.

It was Denise's foot.

She had removed one of her pumps and was playing footsie with me.

That concrete realization caused my face to flush, but I had to maintain my composure. As Holly made her final decision on the menu, and passed it to the waiter, I looked to Denise for some clue as to why she was doing this. My answer came in the form of a subtle and seductive tilt of her head, a wink then a smile which morphed into another sultry smirk.

I gripped the seat cushion as Denise slid her stockinged toes up underneath my trouser leg, over the top of my sock. Her probing toes pushed the trouser leg material up so that she could feel my bare shin. I supressed a gasp of pleasure at the touch of her nyloned foot on my skin. "Jack sweetie, are you going to order?" Holly looked at me with slight impatience. I was so wrapped up in the sensations of Denise's foot that I had lost all sense of where I was. Pulling myself together, I made my selection and passed it on to the waiter.

But Denise wasn't done yet. "Are you sure you want to get that Jack? I hear it's really spicy here!" Her toes stroked my shin up and down under the table.

"Yes, I'm quite sure Denise." I replied, trying to say as little as possible as I felt my throat begin to tighten with excitement. It wasn't enough my wife was here, Denise was trying to draw out the tension and make me as uncomfortable as possible with as many people around as she could get.

And it was exhilirating beyond my wildest fantasy!

I nodded to the waiter, sending him away. Now I only had one person to fool, my wife.

It occurred to me that I was doing nothing to stop Denise's under the table explorations. Although committed to my wife, I seemed eager to allow her friend's amorous foot unlimited access to my body. Well, not having told Holly about my foot fetish had caused my desires to build up. Their only outlet was in my fantasies that were fueled by Denise's unintentional (maybe unintentional) teasing over the past few months.

Now, Denise was helping me to live out my "restaurant fantasy", and the fact that my wife was sitting next to me seemed to merely add to the excitement.

We sat, drinking and chatting amiably about all things under the sun. Meanwhile, hidden from Holly, and the general public by our table and it's tartan cloth, Denise's foot made it's way slowly up my leg. She had removed her toes from underneath my trouser cuff, and was now using them, and the ball of her foot, to lovingly work her way up to my knee. Up and down her foot moved, softly pushing against my inner calf and knee. Denise kept this up through our drinks and the appetizer.

By the time the main course arrived her foot was toying with my knee. I had begun to grow a little uneasy, and was trying my best not to look like I was squriming in my seat. Denise merely shot me an amused glance once and a while. Her hazel eyes were alight in the secret knowledge of what she was doing to me under the table.

My wife suddenly patted me on the thigh again and annouced a bathroom break. As she got up to walk away, Denise's foot left my leg. When Holly was about ten feet from our table I sighed, and gave off a few muffled, pent up moans of arousal. Denise giggled, her laughter was sexy and delightful.

"Are you having a problem Jack?" She asked, smiling wide.

"You know exactly what the problem is my dear." I replied, sounding more confident than I felt.

"Don't worry pooky, your secret is safe with me." Denise winked at me again, "It's pretty easy to tell you foot guys. All that staring, it's kind of funny."

I just stared at her. "So how long have you had this fetish?" She asked casually, sipping her drink.

"As long as I can remember."

"Does Holly know about this?"

"No, I haven't told her. I've never told any of my female companions. You're the first to know."

Denise perked up, and an evil smile parted her red lips. "So no one's ever done anything like this to you before? In a restaurant I mean."

"Nope, I've only seen it in the movies." I replied swallowing hard and wondering where she would take this encounter.

"Hmmmm, I've never done anything like this either. But I'm a fast learner." Denise smirked at me again, and adjusted herself in the booth so that she was directly across from me. "Just keep your cool pooky and I'll give you a lunch to remember. You have to stay calm because I'm NOT gonna stop!"

She sipped her drink again, and cut me off before I could reply, "I'm a born tease, so this kinda thing really appeals to me. Just enjoy it pooky."

I gasped at her words, and was somehow oddly turned on by her referring to me by an affectionate nickname, "pooky".

Denise continued to eat her appetizer while I tried to calm down. After another minute Holly returned to the table. As soon as she sat down, Denise's shoeless foot returned to my ankle, and quickly made the journey back up to my knee. This time I couldn't help but squirm, and tried to pass it off as "getting comfortable in my seat". The growing bulge in the crotch of my trousers however, was anything but comfortable, and I'd soon have to find a way to discreetly adjust myself so my cock would't be stuck in a bent position.

Our main course slowly began to disappear as we ate and talked more. My meal of course, was the slowest to go, as my stomach was knotted tight with excitement. Denise's stockinged foot was now caressing my inner thigh, her steady back and forth rythym killing both my appetite and my composure. Denise was careful not to come too close to my crotch, which was screaming for attention. She let her nyloned toes and her high arch make lazy circles on my thigh, tracing aimless patterns that went nowhere.

As the minutes passed she let her meandering little foot creep closer and closer to what I hoped was her ultimate goal. My cock was now pulsing in my shorts, twisting and expanding down my leg to try and meet Denise's teasing foot halfway. Thoughts of Holly were now gone, I only wanted Denise to touch me, the consequences be dammed.

Above the table there was little indication of Denise's naughty games underneath. She was the perfectly composed friend, laughing and joking with Holly about the latest gossip in the office, womens fashions and of course, men. Holly was oblivious to it all, not picking up on my flushed face, my tightly controlled but labored breathing, and my stilted movements. I was doing everything possible to hold it together as Denise's nylon covered toes finally began lightly brushing and touching my infamed cock.

As her toes settled into a gentle kneading of my cock through my trousers, I couldn't help but cough in an attempt to cover what would have been moans of passion. The girls looked at me questioningly, and I could only point numbly to my plate.

"I told you it was spicy here!" Denise teased, daintly wiping a bit of red clam sauce from her chin. Her toes slowly and firmly wiggling against the underside of my rock-hard shaft. I swallowed hard and felt my cock pulse against her toes. My blissfully ignorant wife laughed and patted me on the thigh, "Poor thing."

I tried not to squirm again, hoping that Holly would keep her hand away from me. Touching my thigh put her hand only inches from Denise's foot. If she should get frisky and try and cop a feel, I'd be in deep shit. But as Denise began to pick up the pace of her foot's minstrations against my cock, I knew that the reward outweighed the risk!

There was no way I could eat now. The sole of Denise's stockinged foot was firmly pressed up against the underside of my throbbing cock, and she was now swiftly stroking me toward a powerful orgasm which I knew could be no more than minutes away. I had no idea how I would react, and if I could keep this from Holly. It wasn't too late to stop Kerrigan, but trapped in the booth and unable to move, I let my raging hard-on think for me, and I stayed put and enjoyed her talented foot.

"What do you think Jack?" Denise's voice again brought me back to the real world. She and Holly looked at me expectantly for an answer to a question I hadn't even heard. "Yes." I replied, my throat tight and my voice slightly squeaky. The girls burst out laughing, and Denise just pressed her rapidly moving foot harder into my cock.

"You haven't heard a word of what we've been saying have you?" Holly smiled at me, taking my pre-orgasm expression for one of tense embarassment. "Like I said, it's too spicy in here for him." Denise smirked at me, her foot never slowing a moment in it's mission to get me off.

Feeling the stockigned toes working around under my cockhead, I felt more than saw Holly get up to go to the restroom again. As she left, Denise removed her busy foot from my crotch. I slumped in my seat, desperately trying to control my breathing and maintain my composure. Without these "breaks", I was sure I'd have cum by now and/or alerted Holly.

"Please Keri..I.." Was all I could moan.

"Please what?" She inquired with mock seriousness. "Please stop? Please tell Holly what I'm doing? Please make you cum?" She smiled at the last suggestion.

Denise took another bite of her linguine, put her fork down and then leaned forward, whispering to me in a low, conspiratorial tone. "Unzip your fly Jack. Take it out so I can feel it! I want to feel your jizz on my stockings." I gasped again at the thought. "Go ahead, do it. You know you want to. Be a good boy and open your pants for Keri" She was positively purring.

Without conscious thought I moved one hand down to my zipper. My fingers worked awkwardly to open my fly and try and fish out my screaming erection. But it was too late. Holly had not gone to the rest room, but to get some more napkins, she returned abruptly, and I clenched my fists to stay in control.

Sitting down, Holly ordered another round of drinks for us. Denise looked at me and stuck out her bottom lip in exaggerated disappointment. "Well like I said Jack, we're just going to have to keep doing what we've been doing." Denise said, her foot returning to my crotch.

"What's that?" Holly asked, distracted by her drink.

"Oh I was just telling him about a project at work." Denise winked at me, her foot rubbing my expanding cock with new determination.

Since my cock had not entirely deflated, Denise's motions quickly brought it back up to full strength. I leaned back slightly in my seat, hunching my hips forward to press into her foot, determined to get the most friction possible. My eyes shut briefly to revel in the sensations that Denise's nyloned foot was brininging me.

I couldn't believe it, it was past being a dream, or a fantasy, but yet it was happening: My wife's sexy friend was giving me a stockinged footjob in a crowded restaurant! To use the old beer commercial cliche, it doesn't get any better than this!

But I still had to keep my act together or I would pay dearly for this. Denise had slumped slightly in her seat, and now, with a little more reach, was able to run the sole of her foot up and down the entire length of my raging hard-on. Her swiftly moving foot was now firmly pressed against me, and she started to pick up the pace again, intent on driving me to the brink of orgasm once again.

Both my hands went to grip the seat cushion as my body began to tense for orgasm. I was glad for the tablecloth, but it would have been so sexy to actually look down and see Denise's little nylon covered foot working in the lap of my outrageously tented trousers.

I looked at Denise with a mix of fear and passion, my expression certainly giving her notice of my impending orgasm. Denise just smiled at me as she played those glistening red lips of hers around the straw in her glass. This was getting serious, I didn't know if I could hide this from Holly, and was using every ounce of strength not to begin shaking. Denise's foot was moving faster and faster over the hot bulge in my pants. I could feel pre-cum leaking into my boxers.

Then, Denise spoke to my wife. "You're squirming again girl, go to the bathroom. We'll keep ourselves entertained until you get back." Holly moaned with defeat. "I was trying to hold it, I guess I'll be right back." She laughed and slowly stood to leave.

My mind screamed for her to move faster as my balls drew up close to my body. A few seconds later she was out of earshot, and I began trembling, whispering pleas of mercy to the cool, calm beauty across the table from me.

"Oh please Denise, please make me cum, don't stop! I'm almost there!" I panted to her, not caring if another diner saw what was happening.

"Hmmmm, well.." She flicked her tounge around her straw again, her hazel eyes flickering at the knowledge of her power over me, "You've been a good boy. Bite your napkin pooky, ok?" Denise slumped again in her seat, casually scanning the restaurant as her leg muscles worked overtime in their nylon cover. I grabbed the seat cushions again, screwed my eyes shut and pushed my hips foward again into her foot.

Denise smiled and licked her lips lasciviously at me as I gave her a final glance. That was it. I put aside Holly and our two years together, I put aside all committements and surrendered to the pumping foot in my lap. An unstoppable load of semen boiled up from my balls and fired down the length of my shaft.

I closed my throat to stifle a cry of ecstasy as my cock seemed rear back and then explode in my pants. Spurt after powerful spurt shot out of my cock, milked along by Denise's still busy foot. My shorts now filled with the product of months, years of frustration, now given a happy ending as a result of Denise's masterful under the table footjob.

My body began to relax as my cock withered, the bursts of semen becoming less powerful and less frequent. Denise gently kneaded my cock, pushing the remaining liquid out of my shaft to further soak my shorts and trousers. As I came back to earth my absolute bliss was slightly marred by the thought that I'd have to "accidently" spill my drink in my lap to cover the obvious stain.

But that didn't matter right now. Realxing more, I reveled in the sensation of my post-orgasmic "high". I took deep breaths and looked longingly at Denise, hoping that my eyes conveyed to her how good and how grateful I felt.

"Your'e welcome, and you owe me one." She giggled. I laughed back, looking around at the other diners, all ignorant to the fact I'd just had a better dining experience than ALL of them combined! Denise smiled with me, removing her talented foot from my crotch, and innocently slipping it back into her empty pump.

Holly walked back to the table a few minutes later. I had calmed down by then and had finished my meal, feeling better than I had in months. We wrapped up our meeting and stood to leave, my pants now soaked with my "accidently on purpose" spilt glass of water. Meeting my gaze one last time, Denise gave her little smile, and added a quick run of her tounge over her upper lip.

I wondered about that gesture, and her final comment to me after the footjob. I did owe her one, and I feverently hoped that I would see her again.

But that's another story.