Photograph property of Breath-Takers. Of course.
And so here begins another interlude, with both of us inclining, one to the other, me working her feet and she working my mouth.
Many people miss vast expanses of intimacy because they focus on the obvious. On the standard. But the truth is that, just as the mind is the biggest erogenous zone we have, those ‘overlooked’ or ‘neglected’ areas hold astounding ‘precursor’ caches of power; tap into them, and when you get to the obvious, the standard –tits, clit, anus, mouth– you’ve suddenly managed to fuel-inject the process.
Mai has lovely feet. Making me want to spend time there. And the truth is, I do have a special way with massaging. It’s like having a conversation with someone while adding subliminal messages at a very low, mostly-inaudible frequency, so that while you’re talking about the weather out loud, you’re also ‘seducing’ her in parallel.
And so we kiss, and I continue to ply her insteps, her Achilles, her arches...the balls of her feet, the knuckles of her toes...the soft pads at the end of every ‘piggy’.
In truth, I make love to Mai’s feet.
Wholly.
Consciously.
Unreservedly.
All the while connecting with her mouth, her lips, her tongue.
And you know what often happens when you concentrate loving attention on a woman when she’s ‘accessible’ and ‘enthusiastic’.
So after a prolonged period of me shining the seams of her metatarsals, her proximal phalanges, her digital phalanges, after I’ve lavished an abundance of adoration on the outer reaches of her feet, after I’ve made her shiver as I’ve made her aware of just how receptive the concavity, the span underneath can be, Mai moans an orgasm into me, and it reverberates against my cheeks, my teeth, down the back of my throat.
She moans her climax as my fingers and thumbs carry on with their loving attention, shifting up to her ankle bones, buffing the protuberances there, even as she trembles her last.
“Can we fuck now...?” she giggles, going for my tongue with a sudden burst of exuberance.
“No.” And with this, I begin to migrate up to her lower legs.
Mai stares down. At my new-found focus. “OK.”
“OK?” I ask, laughing. “Suddenly, she’s not asking questions.”
I watch her expression change as I apply pressure to her soleus, her gastrocnemius. “Because you’re the man who can make me come by massaging my feet. That’s why.”
“No complaints, then.”
“No complaints,” she sighs, words all airy and gone.
Onwards and upwards I go, Mai’s lower legs the focus now, her toes still curling in the afterglow. Though not a ‘big gal’, a powerful Amazon, she’s been blessed with lovely calves. And her tibialis anteriors (her shins) have their own oomph about them, bringing about a certain ‘stiffness’ at my groin.
“That’s not the part of my legs guys are usually fond of,” she tells me, half in wonder, half in jest...and half in clear appreciation. “You know,” she carries on, my face in her hands, “if you hadn’t already fucked me good and proper, I’d be dying for you to shag me about now.”
“Have I made the blood pool in your nether-regions, then...?” I tease, gathering up the backs of her legs...and compressing with just the right amount of loving fixation...while stealing another kiss.
“Yes.”
“Good,” I reply, moving up to her knees. “I’ll have you know that I especially like your knees.”
“I think you’ve actually said that about every body part.”
“Funny, that.” And here, I kiss them.
“No,” Mai insists, tugging me back to her. “If you’re going to be kissing...then I want those kisses up here.”
“What if...” I begin, smoothing down the tops of her thighs, feeling the muscles there, feeling the expanse of flesh, feeling her heat. “What if I want to carry on towards your honey pot...?”
“This...?” she asks, making a fan of her knees, revealing her snatch. Well, within the confines of the bath robe’s shadows, anyway.
“There, eventually...yes.”
“Then you’ll have to limit yourself to your hands,” she replies. “Until it’s time to use your mouth.”
So I’m left to slide my hands under, cupping her hamstrings. And massaging them.
“You even fancy them, don’t you?”
“You were bigger, once. Weren’t you?”
“Yes.”
“I’ve seen photos. Maybe not of then, but when you were more like then, than now.”
“I had big thighs.”
“You still do.”
“They’re different.”
“They make me hard.”
“Everything about me makes you hard!” Now she’s laughing.
“I’ll work on that,” I declare solemnly. “I’ll work on my resistance to you. Eventually, nothing about you will make me hard.”
“No!” she squeals, hugging me close.
“So you only like me when I’m hard...?” I squeeze especially firmly.
“Ow!”
“Maybe we should spend some time when my rock-hard dick’s not allowed to participate. Maybe that would force you to appreciate the rest of me. Not make me feel so...so objectified.”
I’ve grabbed hold of her vulva.
Many people miss vast expanses of intimacy because they focus on the obvious. On the standard. But the truth is that, just as the mind is the biggest erogenous zone we have, those ‘overlooked’ or ‘neglected’ areas hold astounding ‘precursor’ caches of power; tap into them, and when you get to the obvious, the standard –tits, clit, anus, mouth– you’ve suddenly managed to fuel-inject the process.
Mai has lovely feet. Making me want to spend time there. And the truth is, I do have a special way with massaging. It’s like having a conversation with someone while adding subliminal messages at a very low, mostly-inaudible frequency, so that while you’re talking about the weather out loud, you’re also ‘seducing’ her in parallel.
And so we kiss, and I continue to ply her insteps, her Achilles, her arches...the balls of her feet, the knuckles of her toes...the soft pads at the end of every ‘piggy’.
In truth, I make love to Mai’s feet.
Wholly.
Consciously.
Unreservedly.
All the while connecting with her mouth, her lips, her tongue.
And you know what often happens when you concentrate loving attention on a woman when she’s ‘accessible’ and ‘enthusiastic’.
So after a prolonged period of me shining the seams of her metatarsals, her proximal phalanges, her digital phalanges, after I’ve lavished an abundance of adoration on the outer reaches of her feet, after I’ve made her shiver as I’ve made her aware of just how receptive the concavity, the span underneath can be, Mai moans an orgasm into me, and it reverberates against my cheeks, my teeth, down the back of my throat.
She moans her climax as my fingers and thumbs carry on with their loving attention, shifting up to her ankle bones, buffing the protuberances there, even as she trembles her last.
“Can we fuck now...?” she giggles, going for my tongue with a sudden burst of exuberance.
“No.” And with this, I begin to migrate up to her lower legs.
Mai stares down. At my new-found focus. “OK.”
“OK?” I ask, laughing. “Suddenly, she’s not asking questions.”
I watch her expression change as I apply pressure to her soleus, her gastrocnemius. “Because you’re the man who can make me come by massaging my feet. That’s why.”
“No complaints, then.”
“No complaints,” she sighs, words all airy and gone.
Onwards and upwards I go, Mai’s lower legs the focus now, her toes still curling in the afterglow. Though not a ‘big gal’, a powerful Amazon, she’s been blessed with lovely calves. And her tibialis anteriors (her shins) have their own oomph about them, bringing about a certain ‘stiffness’ at my groin.
“That’s not the part of my legs guys are usually fond of,” she tells me, half in wonder, half in jest...and half in clear appreciation. “You know,” she carries on, my face in her hands, “if you hadn’t already fucked me good and proper, I’d be dying for you to shag me about now.”
“Have I made the blood pool in your nether-regions, then...?” I tease, gathering up the backs of her legs...and compressing with just the right amount of loving fixation...while stealing another kiss.
“Yes.”
“Good,” I reply, moving up to her knees. “I’ll have you know that I especially like your knees.”
“I think you’ve actually said that about every body part.”
“Funny, that.” And here, I kiss them.
“No,” Mai insists, tugging me back to her. “If you’re going to be kissing...then I want those kisses up here.”
“What if...” I begin, smoothing down the tops of her thighs, feeling the muscles there, feeling the expanse of flesh, feeling her heat. “What if I want to carry on towards your honey pot...?”
“This...?” she asks, making a fan of her knees, revealing her snatch. Well, within the confines of the bath robe’s shadows, anyway.
“There, eventually...yes.”
“Then you’ll have to limit yourself to your hands,” she replies. “Until it’s time to use your mouth.”
So I’m left to slide my hands under, cupping her hamstrings. And massaging them.
“You even fancy them, don’t you?”
“You were bigger, once. Weren’t you?”
“Yes.”
“I’ve seen photos. Maybe not of then, but when you were more like then, than now.”
“I had big thighs.”
“You still do.”
“They’re different.”
“They make me hard.”
“Everything about me makes you hard!” Now she’s laughing.
“I’ll work on that,” I declare solemnly. “I’ll work on my resistance to you. Eventually, nothing about you will make me hard.”
“No!” she squeals, hugging me close.
“So you only like me when I’m hard...?” I squeeze especially firmly.
“Ow!”
“Maybe we should spend some time when my rock-hard dick’s not allowed to participate. Maybe that would force you to appreciate the rest of me. Not make me feel so...so objectified.”
I’ve grabbed hold of her vulva.
