The Italian Foot Jacker

Posted by: Author: Age: 42 Posted on: 0 comments
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When I was in college I had a part time job at night working in a small trendy restaurant. A few weeks after I started working there, the boss hired his nephew who had recently arrived from Italy. He wasn't particularly handsome, just an average guy. But he had a very sexy accent and he always smelled really good, some exotic Italian fragrance that I had never smelled before. The restaurant was always hopping from 8-10 PM, but afterwards it would slow down to practically no business at all, until we finally closed at Midnight.

The Italian dude and I would just hang around behind the counter and talk until closing time. He was always bringing up the topic of sex, and tried on a number of occasions to get to me go out on a date with him, even to get me to fool around in the back room with him, but I firmly resisted. I had a boyfriend and was not into fooling around with other guys.

One night he confessed to me that he had a huge foot fetish. I had never really heard of that before but I was fascinated, and encouraged him to tell me more about it. He couldn't explain it other than the fact that the sight and feel of a woman's foot sexually aroused him, more than anything else in the world.

He didn't have a car and usually his uncle, our boss, would come back to pick him up, but occasionally I would drop him off on my way home. In the car one time he asked me if he could see my feet. But I said no. I wanted to very badly, but I resisted. That weekend I was shopping in a mall and I passed a nail salon, and on a whim I went in and got a full pedicure, which included massage and lotion and polish, the works. I had never had that done before, I was young and on my own so money was very tight, but all his talk of foot adoration enticed me into the splurge.

The next night at work, I asked him if he needed a ride home. He said yes but later I heard him call his uncle and tell him not to pick him up. That night on the drive home he began begging me once again to show him my feet. I teasingly protested, knowing full well I would let him later, but making him beg for it anyway. I have a little mean streak in me I guess, sometimes I just love being able to make a man positively drool for it before I give in to anything. Finally I agreed to let him peek, but warned him that there was to be no fooling around, that I had a boyfriend who I intended to be faithful to, and he said no problem, he just 'needed' to see my feet.

It was late at night, probably half past midnight. Hardly anyone was on the road. I pulled over to the side and parked, and paused, and then slipped my shoes off. I turned towards him a little and put my feet up on the seat and next thing I knew he had my feet on his lap and he was massaging them, and it felt really, really good. He said 'just relax and let me rub your feet ok?' So I closed my eyes and just enjoyed it. I enjoy getting foot massages anyway, but having it done by a man whose fetish is feet, made it all the better, a thousand times better.

I should have known what was going to happen next, maybe I did, and I suppose deep down inside I really wanted it to happen, or I wouldn't have gotten the pedicure the day before, and subsequently bared my naked feet to him. He started pressing my foot against his crotch, and I could feel his very hard penis through his pants. Then, as if that wasn't enough to get me going, he was saying things that were totally turning me on. Like 'oh baby your feet are soooo sexy' and 'oh my god your feet are making my cock so hard', with that sexy Italian accent, while he looked at me with a face that was sooo seriously into it.

He brought one of my feet to his mouth and started sucking on my toes, one at a time, attending to each one as if it were an exotic delicacy, like some fine expensive chocolate, and swirling his tongue around each toe and relishing it in his mouth. Then it began to feel to me as if my toes were an extension of my pussy, I could feel every tiny movement of his hot mouth and lips and tongue on my toes, and it would send a hot shiver of ecstasy right up my legs to my pussy. I thought I was going to come right in my pants, he was so seriously and completely into it, and so was I, so was I.

He pulled his big Italian cock out of his pants and started rubbing my saliva drenched foot all over his big hard prick, he was moaning 'oh yeah baby I just need to fuck your feet'. I was unable and unwilling to stop him; I was just lying there with my eyes half closed in a dreamy state, and absent-mindedly rubbing my pussy through my pants. 'It's ok baby if I come on your feet?' he said, but before I could answer he was squirting gobs of his hot thick Italian cream, like a fire hose, all over my horny willing little feet.

Afterwards he continued to massage them until his beautiful Italian cream had completely disappeared onto my feet. I took him home and kissed him on the cheek goodnight. He said 'oh my love, I need you so bad'. But I just said goodnight.

Eventually he went back home to Italy, but I never, ever, forgot him and that fantastic night in my car. Since that time I have always kept my feet perfectly manicured and I wear sandals and open-toed shoes whenever I can, and I am always on the lookout for anyone who might be sneaking a peek at my feet, and I am just dying to meet another guy with a foot fetish so I can repeat the experience.



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