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Ten Hours (m/f) My first story posted about feet n tickling :)

SydNey

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Jul 7, 2005
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Ten Hours - the first of a multi-part story about a looong train ride with a guy, a girl and some super nice feet,lol. Enjoy. (feedback please of the constructive sort, thanks:)

Stepping onto the train as it started to ascend the track I considered myself lucky to have made it atall. Catching my breath I winced at the sadistic implementation of three flights of stairs upward leading only to three flights downward in order to board a train when incredulously there was a ground level doorway a few feet away!

Glancing out the window as we moved I caught a glimpse of those that didn't make it aboard. Grateful for my place I quickly forgave the congested car full of people for the imposition of them all being there.

Standing in the middle of the train's car I scanned the area for a decent seat where I could be alone. There was no such place on this vehicle. I reluctantly sat down next to a strange smelling four foot woman with a red lined mouth that seemed much too large for her body much less her head. I hoped she was not a talker. I judgementally imagined her with a super whiney voice and I fought back a premature desire to hate her. Note to self-be nicer.

Anticipating the shudder I was destined to feel each time the double entry doors were opened, I pulled the sleeves of my over sized sweatshirt down over my hands, the neck line up over my chin and buried myself in a self induced coccoon-like shell. Miserable. Tired. Annoyed.

I tried to rest. I couldn't sleep. I felt the heaviness in my lap of the books I'd brought. I needed to get this back pack off of me. Scoping out the over-head storage rack in search of a temporary home for my stuff quickly resulted in the realization that it wasn't happening. Another conscious decision to avoid despising the human race was in order. Especially the part of the human race that brought a ridiculous amount of stuff everywhere they went.

Indulging in self pity I pouted with deprivation from a false sense of entitlement. All I want, I reasoned , was one tiny spot for one tiny backpack. I realized that I wasn't going to get it. I looked for somewhere else to put my stuff. I grumbled and berated myself for the third time this morning. Why would any self respecting person take the train over her car?

I felt exceptionally sarcastic and hated that part of me that loved it. I quickly asked God to help me to want to want to be nicer all the while realizing that he must realize I didn't really mean it.

I breathed in deeply. Pulling off a fairly decent display of mock-gratitude I noisily plunked my backpack down on the floor next to me. Make the best of it Ally, don't whine, I told myself.

Glancing unenthusiastically at the crowd I was to co-habitate with for the next 10 hours I instinctively wiggled out of my right flip flop and slipped my now bare foot protectively in between the middle of the drawstring enclosure of my backpack.

Basically this delusional move was to appease that part of me convinced that there were contents in my worn back pack that a thief would possibly want and then decidely wrestle my foot for. I smiled and growled playfully to myself at that thought.

That's when I saw him.

He was watching my feet.

He was watching my feet.

He was watching my feet.

I must have said that phrase to myself many times before I swallowed. I believe I gasped, most likely out loud. In fact I must have because he looked right at me. I didn't take my eyes off of him again just to make sure that I saw that look the next time he looked.

There, he did it again. Yes, he was definitely watching my feet. I just notice things like that. I smiled. This ride might prove to be interesting after all.

The following minutes were tremendous fun. Each time we made eye contact he would look away nervously. He was so cute. I projected my own experiences and guessed I knew what he was thinking. He was wondering if I saw him looking at my feet. He wanted to look again. I know he did. I could feel it. He wanted to look but didn't want to be perceived as a weirdo. I wanted to hug him for that.
I realized now just how incredibly cute he was.

I empathized with his assumed level of inferiority on the judgemental link of social unacceptance for sexual absurdities. Specifically, the social injustices of him being a male who also loves feet.

These statistics placed him at an unfair disadvantage without ever opening his sensual mouth to explain. I felt both blessed and sorrowful.

Poor wonderful men. Social acceptance for bizarre sexual behavior was another domain we females naturally lucked into.

But yes he was definitely cute. Cuter by his captivation of feet. Cuter still by his captivation of my feet. I gently bit my lip to keep from smiling.

His anxiety was so adorable I almost didn't want to rescue him, but I did. I smiled warmly the next time our eyes met and mouthed hello. He smiled gratefully in return, reciprocating my silent hello over the intruding sound of the air compressing as the doors closed tightly, securing our geographical bond for the remainder of the evening.

His eyes smiled at me vulnerably as he cast them downward toward my feet. Watching him revealed him watching me, for my reaction.

I liked that alot. I began to feel very warm.

It wasn't often that I found myself in a situation such as this.

A very attractive man of whom I was actually attracted to. A genuine lover of feet. In close approximation to me with what seemed to blessedly be an unobscured view of my bare feet in order for me to drive him completely mad.

All of this for the next ten hours with nothing else to do but watch him watch me as I drive him over the edge.

Strange as it sounds I was a very happy girl. Feeling grateful for the gratitude that allowed me to smile sweetly at him felt delicately swell.

I was inundated with him. He was clearly a man who adores feet because he was clearly adoring mine. I could just tell. I liked that. I liked that he was a foot lover and I liked that I liked that.

Seeing that look on his face as his eyes danced over my bare feet said everything I needed to know. This man would love to get his hands on my feet. I now wanted to take my thoughts in several different places at once. How effortlessly the ideas for fantasies materialize.

This was all too much and I became overwhelmed. I lost my resolve and weakened.

Okay, this was different though. The shift in control had changed and for just a brief moment I hated that I liked this alteration in power. I wasn't sure why.

Feeling uncharacteristically nervous the adrenaline pumped through my body at an alarming speed. He noticed the shift of power in our exchange, I could tell. He knew he had my full attention as well as my permission. He delighted and I felt weak.

Gently biting my bottom lip I attempted a pretense of disinterest as I lazily glanced over a magazine page opened too awkwardly...never taking my stare off his face as my eyes scanned the page blankly.

This was all so incredibly intense. I was taking everything in. His features variated delicately as he stared at my nearly bare feet. His facial expressions surrendered to his desire and betrayed his resolve.

I loved it. I grew weaker. Sensing his ache to touch my feet did things to me I never imagined and will not soon forget. I moaned. Shifting my feet, I began instinctively probing different positions with them to determine his weaknesses.

Caressing toes with toes, my feet played together for him as he watched with his mouth slightly open. His eyes stared in a dreamy glazed way that I knew too well. I didn't have to see that look on my own face to know I was expressing the same.

I sensually ran my right foot toe first softly up and down my leg. letting my foot rest on it's side I purposely exposed a naked sole to him.

I can't be entirely certain but I believe he may have had an orgasm.
to be continued....?
peace n Love,
~SydNey :bunny:
 
Yes to be continued. A good start explaining mens point of view along with the playful women.
 
Hi, Sydney. Welcome to TMF. I'm Mitch. That was a wonderful story! As a lover of female feet as well as tickling, I can say that I have been in the situation you described in your story many times. My favorite part was how you enjoyed the fact that he was staring at your feet! :bump: Most girls who arent into feet or tickling will shoot a guy like that a dirty look. (Trust me, I have experience with this!) Anyhow, I look forward to the next part. Take care, and welcome. I hope we can chat at some point.

Best wishes,
Mitch
 
heyyyyyyyyyyyyyy, welcome (I actually have a :cat: I named Sidney, yes, really) Good story~I think a lot of us girls like to play like this~keep it going?
XOXO
 
Good stuff SydNey!
And Welcome to TMF!

Keep up the good work, can't wait for the next parts.
 
Thanks so much everyone for the encouragement! This is actually a true story (I am sure at some point I will add details from extended fantasies I had along the way,lol but for the most part, thus far it happened pretty much as I have written, glad you liked, I am working on pt 2!

Thanks also for the welcome, it means alot. :)

~SydNey :wub:
 
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