She sat on the sofa again, at one end this time, and patted the middle cushion.She sat on the sofa again, at one end this time, and patted the middle cushion. I moved over from the armchair and sat, and she turned and laid those slim, trim calves across my lap. She also watched me out of the corner of her eye. Very nice indeed, but I was supposed to massage her feet so I regretfully moved away to the far cushion. Carol had surprisingly small feet for such a tall, leggy woman. I'm one of those men who catalogs details about a woman rather than merely enjoying the big picture. I'm not a fetishist by any means, but I have certain ideas and ideals about a woman's hands, feet, eyes, ears, whatever. My "perfect woman" would probably be an impossible anatomical jigsaw puzzle. Carol's small feet, narrow toes, and slender, almost delicate ankles got a very high score from me. I picked up each foot, laced my fingers through the toes, and carefully popped the joints. Then I set to work separating the tight cords of muscle and running my thumbs firmly down the hamstrings. From the "oooh..." and "ahhh..." sounds Carol was making, I still had the touch. With my hand flat on the bottom of one foot, I bent it slowly forward, then back, then to each side, stretching the tendons. |