• The TMF is sponsored by Clips4sale - By supporting them, you're supporting us.
  • >>> If you cannot get into your account email me at [email protected] <<<
    Don't forget to include your username

The TMF is sponsored by:

Clips4Sale Banner

Feet 301 (bad)

JenSorel

Registered User
Joined
Sep 17, 2005
Messages
8
Points
0
Feet 301 (bad)
by JenSorel



come on now show your soul
you've been keeping your love under control



A finer education in feet…


“I’m wide awake.” Forevermore.

It was the first time, my first time. Not that first time, but that first time.

Sometimes, every so often, now and again, I feel those precious moments, I relive that inspiring event, engross myself in the lucid memories of him, then, there, that night…


I twist, turn away, position my naked body against his. Lying on our sides, my back against his chest, bottom butting up against his waist, we spoon. We cuddle in the aftermath of the single greatest night of my young life, a night that began yesterday afternoon and is still going strong. At least I hope it is, feels like it is. I slide my bare feet across the white sheets until my pinkish soles rest against his lower legs, my sex-sullied toes tickling his ankles.

He smiles. I can feel him smiling behind me. “You’re insatiable,” he whispers, confirming his glee. His arms surround me, pull me against his warm skin. I feel his sex rise to attention between the cheeks of my youthful behind. I exhale. He kisses the back of my neck. No place I’d rather be. Best memory of my life.

Thought that then, there, and still think it today.


It was the first time someone made love to my feet, made love to all of me, the first time my toes were ever kissed, ever sucked, ever loved just like the rest of me. There, then, that night, something happened, something dripped, something clicked. I was in college, just a freshman, but, in many ways, I graduated that very day. My life, quite simply, was never the same.

There, then, that night, my eyes were opened. I was enlightened.


He kisses the back of my neck. I warm, wet, melt in his arms. He twists me, turns me, over toward him so he can kiss me, kiss my lips, French kiss me while holding my face, caressing my face. His hands move down to my chest, his kisses soon follow. More warm, more wet. Down, down, downward, to my ribs, tickling, to my stomach, licking, in between my legs, exploring. He stays there for a bit, just long enough to make me dizzy, just briefly enough to keep me yearning. He’s good like that. Down, down, downward, riding my legs, scratching at my burning thighs, tickling the underside of my knees, rubbing my shapely calves, grabbing hold of my slender ankles so he can bring my feet to his face.

I exhale, arch my back, smile, giggle, anticipating what’s to come, what I’ve felt several times before, then, there, that night.

He kisses a sole, the smooth bottom of my right foot. He inhales, tracing his nose along the arch. It tickles. He licks back up, where his nose just traveled. I flinch, but in a good way.

“Like that?” he whispers.

“So much,” I reply. “But you know that by now.”

“I know. I just like hearing you say it.” He licks, licks, licks his way up, up, up, to my underside of my toes. He kisses the dollops of flesh there, then paints each salty-sweet digit wet with his tongue.

Then, then, then, there, there, there, that night, that night, that night, he sucks my toes again, again, again.

I writhe in the bed, twisting, turning, squirming, thrashing about from the pleasure he’s giving, the joy I’m receiving at the foot of the bed, my foot in his mouth, my eyes open, me enlightened, wide awake, not sleeping, not sleeping, not sleeping, my life, quite simply, never the same.

All this, a product of toe sucking, foot loving, sole searching. Imagine that. Before this, then, there, that night, you could not have convinced me it would feel like this. I couldn’t imagine, grasp, comprehend. After, I never wanted to envision my life without it, live a life without it, make love without it.


you've been keeping your love under control


He suckles each toe, watching me react, sucks all my toes at once, watching me lose control, makes love to my feet, watching my pleasure erupt from my insides, spread across my face and stretch across the bed we share. I am coming, coming close, teetering on the edge from what he is doing, there, then, at the foot of the bed. I am feeling something I have never felt before, except for the three times that came before, there, then, that night. This, the fourth, might be the best, a degree of new heights, new glee. He takes advantage of it, of me, and I love him for it. Foot in his mouth, he moves closer, between my wet and open legs, puts himself inside me, makes love to me, again, makes love to all of me, again.

I come, there, then, after just a few strokes, but he makes it last a blissful while. I call his name, tell him how he’s making me feel all over, all over again. I explode from the inside out, shiver, shake, tingle from dizzy head to wet toes, while he works himself toward a pleasurable goal, slips himself in and out until he arrives at a point of no return, until he tenses up, babbles like a baby, pulls himself out and comes all over. Again.

He comes until he goes, “Oh. Dear. God. Jenny,” and falls onto the bed, covering my naked body with his, kissing me while panting, laughing, admitting, “Never been like this. Never felt like this before.”

Understatement. For sure.

I was young. Amid his admission, surrounded by his strong arms, still reeling form the from my own revelation, the only words I could muster were, “Oh, James.”


and you feel like no one before


There, then, that night, I was a born. Born into a wonderful new world, a brave new world, and with each subsequent step, I moved closer to who I am today. It didn’t happen overnight, but it also might have never happened if not for him. If not for him.

Quite suddenly, I was conscious of my feet, I became obsessed with my own feet, my finest features, my size sevens. I wanted them to look perfect, feel perfect, smell perfect, taste perfect, sound perfect. At first I wanted all this for James, but then for anyone, everyone that came in contact with them, anyone, everyone that met me and wanted to get two feet closer, my lovers, each and every one of them, male or female, with fetish or without.

It didn’t happen overnight, but it happened. For that I am indebted, forevermore. As a result, I was, quite simply, born.

I wanted my feet to look perfect, so I showered them with attention. I started painting my nails a variety of colors, began treating my feet to pedicures whenever I could. I began wearing shoes that showed off my feet, shoes that displayed my pretty size sevens. Then, there, back then I frequently wore flip-flops, which were just coming into vogue and plenty of sandals, which were usually branded Candies.

Over time, I’ve settled on a preferred nail color, pink. I indulge in a pedicure at least once a week, sometimes more, never less. And these days the shoes I don certainly celebrate and advertise my finest features, and currently my favorite labels include Choo, Rossi and Aldo.

I wanted my feet to feel unbelievably soft and smooth, wanted the skin to shimmer and be incredibly silky against whatever they were touching. I began treating my feet like royalty, pampering them with creams and lotions on a daily a basis, indulging them with foot treatments as often as I could afford.

Over time I adopted a ritual. I shower them each and every day, bask them in hot water to open the pores, bathe them in soaps and gels, cleansing them again with hot water, then cold to close my pores. I dry them, then lotion them every single day, before slipping them into shoes, before taking them outside to play.

I wanted my feet to smell enticing, floral, addictive, fruitful, intoxicating. Wanted those in the know, that traced them with their nose, to smile upon inhaling, be delighted by the scent of my sweet feet every time they undressed them, made them naked, brought them toward their face for more.

I also wanted them, these feet, my feet to taste divine, delightful, mouth-watering, so lovers would hunger for them again and again, over and over, every time after enjoying an initial taste, nibble or suckle.

To accomplish this, those soaps and creams and lotions are all chosen with care, thoughtfulness and attention to detail. They boast flavors that sink into my skin, into my pores and bake up in my shoes, until those festive moments my anxious little feet are brought out in foreplay.

Over time I’ve perfected many different, delightful recipes, achieved scents and flavors that please the palate of my lovers, those that I seduce, those that seduce me and everyone in between that I discover, that discover me, between the sheets and, of course, at the foot of the bed.

Finally, I wanted my feet to sound perfect. At first I thought that might be attained in my choice of shoes. I learned flip-flops SPANK! my soles brilliantly, while heels CLICK! as I strutted confidently, and bare feet SMACK! on tile and hardwood as I frolic nakedly. To my delight, all these sounds often caused inquiring eyes to fall down, down, downward, to the ground, to my feet in order to glimpse, inspect, view their attractiveness, in order to appreciate their beauty.

However, over time, I realized more compelling sounds emanate from me whenever my feet are orally explored, adored, loved, and whenever I worship, devour, pounce upon the beauty of the women I chose to seduce, head to toes. The sounds of my joy have become the sounds that define my love for feet. The SPANKS!, CLICKS! & SMACKS! are just icing on the cake, addictive foreplay in the wonderful art of foot seduction, an art I have become very adept at, over time.

I began to do all of this to please the senses of my lovers, those in the know, those that I seduce, that seduce me, at the foot of the bed.


everywhere you go you shout it
you don't have to be shy about it, no


Mind you, this all didn’t happen overnight. I learned in due course, as I developed and matured, as I was able to appreciate and afford finer things in life, and, as I developed into a vibrant young woman who could stand on her own two feet. Mind you, those two feet were a foundation of flawlessness, an alluring pair, my finest features, my perfect size sevens.

My confidence swelled, my bravado peaked. I, the youngest of the Sorel sisters, became the strongest of the bunch, the most confident, the most sensual.

Over time, JenSorel was born.

The girl became a woman and, in turn, the student became a teacher.


baby slow down
the end isn’t as fun as the start


“Baby, slow down…”


After James and I broke up, hard as it was at first, I moved on. I found myself seeking the feelings, the joys I experienced with him, went looking for another like him. I used the obvious for bait, my feet, my bared and beautiful feet.


At a party on some Saturday afternoon, sitting on a couch with a bunch of frat guys and a few sorority sisters, I slip off my shoes and place my bare feet on the edge of a coffee table, slide my finest features across the hard wood table. They’re all watching the game on the TV, wanting to see who’ll win the game. I was watching their eyes to see, waiting to see who’d play the game. My game. My new favorite game.

I wanted Matt Hudson, but he paid no mind. In fact, everyone seated around the TV paid no mind. I almost gave up, almost deprived the room of my bared beauties, almost slipped them back into my shoes. Almost. Then, there, I see the fixated eyes of a little boy named Will. He’s thoroughly engrossed, not in the game, but on my feet. Score!

I slide my feet off the table and back into my shoes. I get up and walk past him, toward the kitchen. My sandals SPANK! my soles as I pass, as his eyes fell down, down, downward to drink in the beauty going by. I don’t leave that room. Instead, I come up behind him and whisper in his ear, “I’m going to get a drink. Wanna come?”

He does indeed want to come. So we leave.

A short while later we’re exploring some very common interests.

“Baby, slow down,” I instruct. The end is not as fun as the start. It took me a while to learn that and it’s something I often have to teach. I enjoy it though, teaching.

“Baby, slow down.” He doesn’t listen, maybe he doesn’t hear me.

Will’s in a hurry, can’t believe we’re here in my bed, can’t believe he’s there at my feet, my bare naked feet. He’s all over the place, like a puppy dog that just got a hold of raw steak. He sucking frantically, forgetting to come up for air. It feels good, but mind you, I know it can feel so much better. “Baby slow down,” I whisper. I continue, “I’m not going anywhere. Don’t want you to go anywhere. Want you there. Right there. At my feet. I love that. Love it so.”

My toes in his mouth, he looks at me with wide, suspicious eyes. I get that a lot, that look. Seems lovers often cannot believe I enjoy it, this, as much as them. Truth be told, I enjoy it more, so much more. I often keep that little secret to myself. Don’t want to give them any power. No sir.

He’s still staring. “Suck my toes,” I coo. The other words will come later, over time. “Make them wet.” “Do it.” “For me.” They will come much later, but I start with this and it’s good to go.

“Suck. My. Toes.”

He does, a little slower this time. Mission accomplished. I close my eyes, enjoy the warmth all over my feet, the tickling down there, the bursts of pleasure the action sparks, the joy that envelopes me, seems to erupt all over. Just like with James. It’s just like it was with James. I moan, arch my back, push my foot toward him, giving it to him, offering myself to him. I’m warm, so warm, all over. I’m wet, so wet, down there. Just like with James. It wasn’t just him. I’ve confirmed my suspicions. It was this.

This.


“Baby, slow down.” The end isn’t as fun as the start. No sir. No ma’am. This I’ve learned. This I teach.

What I’ve realized, what I impart is this. Nothing compares to those first moments, the slipping off of shoes, making feet nude, drinking in their visual beauty, inhaling their alluring scents, relishing their physical appeal, devouring their deliciousness, hearing the reaction to all this wonderful lust and desire.

You can say the same for any part of the body, however I say it there, then, here, now, forevermore about feet.

Everywhere I go, I shout it. I don’t want to be shy about it.


There, then, that first night, lying in bed, cuddling, spooning with James, in the wee hours of the morning, after already making love several times, he held me, whispered, “You sleeping?”

Then, there, I smiled, leaned into him, felt what was keeping him awake on the backs of my thighs, again.

“I’m wide awake,” I replied, as I slid what was keeping me up over to him, as I pressed my sexy soles against his tepid skin, again.

He exhaled, his hot breath tickled me all over my back. I grinned, recalling some words spoken just two nights prior. I smiled, deciding to repeat them there and then. “I like that you like feet and I want you to like mine.”

“You’re bad.”

“Yeah,” I whispered, before he turned me, twisted me, positioned my naked body against his, again.


I’m wide-awake. I’m not sleeping. There, then, that night, over time, now, today, forevermore.

I’m JenSorel, and I don’t merely live in this brave new world, I thrive in it, I’m bad in it.







Bring JenSorel home in 2007
2yowc4o.jpg

Details to come…
JS --
 
I thought it was great. There were some very beautiful parts.
 
I'm envious of your style, Jen. You seem so comfortable in this subject that dissertations fly into poetry, and it works remarkably well to convey feelings.

The "one, two, three" passage in SLAP & TICKLE was disarmingly accurate; I'm amazed and thrilled to see that written by someone who I don't think is a man.

Your description of your reaction to Jack's tickling was so thoughtfully meticulous; how do you summon such beautiful descriptions?
 
What's New

3/28/2024
Stop by the TMF Welcome Forum and take a second to say hello!
Tickle Experiment
Door 44
NEST 2024
Register here
The world's largest online clip store
Live Camgirls!
Live Camgirls
Streaming Videos
Pic of the Week
Pic of the Week
Congratulations to
*** brad1701 ***
The winner of our weekly Trivia, held every Sunday night at 11PM EST in our Chat Room
Back
Top