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From: proust@scsn.net (Marc Proust)
Subject: NEW "Hooray for Pittman" (mf, cons, feet)
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The following story is meant only for adults. Please delete now if you are
under, say, 21. Ok, 18.

³Hooray for Pittman!²
by Marc Proust
proust@scsn.net

Ever since my wife left me (cashed me in for Pittman, of all people! but
thatıs another story) things have been tough. I canıt say I was the best
husband around, but I was far from the worst, and her departure caught me
completely by surprise. In hindsight, I can dimly make out a few warning
signs, but being blind is a virtue where love is concerned (I still
believe) so I canıt say I really learned much from the whole experience.
By the time the divorce was final I was starting to get over her. At least
she left me the kids. 

 I used to dread the thought of wasting time driving kids around from one
activity to another, one doctor to another, one event to another. But
trips to the kidsı dentist, I have found, are different.  And the reason
has nothing to do with children: our dentistıs hygenists are simply
beautiful. I could never make up my mind if I preferred Terri, Bobbi, or
Cyndi, and spent the greater part of each visit pretending to read my
book, but really looking through open doors and over faux-marble counters
into the treatment area, catching glimpses of these angels in their tight
white or baby blue cotton pants and piebald tops, and dreamily
contemplating the carnal possibilities with one or more of them. The tops
are loose-fitting, but occasionally the material would be stretched tight,
from side to side, as a routine dental procedure was performed, outlining
the soft convex surface of a perfect breast encased, somewhere out of
sight, in the smoothest of silk.

When we arrived that day, no one else was in the waiting room, little Jake
was sent right in, and I took up my regular vantage point at the round
table in the middle of the room. As I unpacked my briefcase,  though,
another pair walked in, a little girl and her mother, a slight woman,
about five-five, with dirty blond hair to her shoulders, a slim waist, and
lively green eyes. She wore a tight black knit top that showed her small
breasts to enormous advantage, and faded blue jeans that emphatically
called attention to her every feminine curve and line. Although quite a
bit older than the trio I had come to spy upon, she made me forget them
all (well...maybe not Terri... ). 

It was not long before her child was ushered in, and we were left alone,
two adults simmering in the kiddie furniture, clown tapestries, and toys
for the children to fondle to deaden their fear of the dentist. All of a
sudden, the woman, who was reading a magazine and completely ignoring me,
kicked off her shoes, revealing little white-clad feet, and stretched out
on the couch in an Odalisque-esque pose. To my surprise, I began to
experience the low buzz and hum between my legs, the sensation that
announces that I am getting turned on. An even greater surprise was that
it was her feet that were the cause of my erection! It had not occured to
me before that feet could be an object of desire, but those dainty,
white-stockinged feet now seemed to be extensions of her most intimate
parts. I could barely take my eyes off them, and when she began to wiggle
her toes, I would not have been more captivated if she had exposed a
nipple. When she rubbed her little feet together, I began to imagine how
nice it would feel to stroke them gently, and perhaps to cast my hot
breath on them, then cool them down with soft, wet kisses and licks. 

³This is crazy!² I thought. ³Pull yourself together.² I had not had sex in
a month, and that hadnıt been much fun since the girl involved had a crush
on me that I could not return.

Things did not get any easier when she abruptly let one knee rotate down
to the couch upon which she reclined, while keeping the other one straight
up, affording me a direct view to her crotch. Now I didnıt know where to
look, and kept shifting my gaze from the end of her winsome form to its
middle, and back again, and feeling my penis enlarge all the while. Now, I
am a long-time crotch-watcher and love the effect produced by spread legs
and blue jeans: this woman provided absolutely nothing to see, no shape
nor bulge, no mons, no depression or hint of a slight ravine, just the
flat surface of fabric. It could have been glass. It was feminine
precisely because it was so utterly unmasculine. And I well knew that just
beneath that fabric, her body was anything but flat and featureless. Quite
the opposite: in my mindıs eye I could make out the shallow gape of her
cunt, stretched to eliminate the puff and bend of her vagina. Yet showing,
if one could see under the coarse denim, the opening to paradise nestled
between the soupcon of the outer lips and the subtle protrusion of her
stirring clit. In spite of the supposed interest in the magazine, I had no
doubt that this woman knew exactly what she was doing to me. 

Suddenly, she dropped her magazine, stood up, stared right at me, and,
without saying a word, stalked off down the long hallway to the bathroom.
Two minutes later, my more responsible self had lost the battle to 
control my body, and I slowly rose from the table, then tip-toed down the
hall, glancing over my shoulder to make sure that Terri, Bobbi, and Cyndi
were not coming after me. The door was not completely closed, and as I
positioned myself to peek through the crack, she said: ³Please, come in
and shut the door.  Iım glad you came. Iım Karen.²

She was on the toilet with the cover down; she had taken off her socks and
jeans, and was sitting there Indian-style in white cotton panties and her
black knit top. Her legs were slender and tight, and her toenails, I saw,
were painted a dark red. 

³Hi,² I replied. ³Iım Marc.²

³Marc, I can see that you would like to touch me. Before we go any
farther, though, I must ask you a question: are you married? My marriage
was destroyed when my husband ran off with another woman, and I will not
do anything that might destroy someone elseıs.² 

³Well, I _was_ married, but Iım not now. I could go into the details, but
they are not particularly edifying² Indeed. At that precise instant, my
feelings toward Pittman began to change. Maybe he wasnıt such a bastard
after all.

³In that case, I must ask you something else. You find my feet pretty,
donıt you? No, wait! Donıt answer. You find them more than pretty. What is
it that fascinates you so much?² As she said this, she crossed her arms
across her legs and began caressing the arch of each foot with the
opposite hand. She looked straight at me while she did it; to gauge the
extent of my obsession, I figured.

³I never really thought about it before, Karen, but I think it is because
your feet seem capable of ... establishing a connection to something deep.
I donıt know. If there were a rational explanation, they wouldnıt call it
a fetish. All I know is that it gets me extremely aroused.² Her white
panties were pressed hard against her skin; there was no sign of any black
hair, and I could tell that her cunt was beginning to get very moist. The
skin glistened to either side, and there was a damp spot right over her
openning. 

³To my soul, maybe?² As she said it, she took her hands off her feet, made
right angles with the thumb and index finger of each, and framed her
breasts from the side through the thin, black fabric. ³Do they turn you on
more than my tits? Which gets your cock harder? Feet or tits?²

As she spoke, she dropped her hands to her waist and slowly pulled the
black top up and over her head. She did not wear a bra, and her breasts
had the soft femine sag that comes from a few decades of being a wife,
mother, and person. They were far from perfect, but for a woman her age,
they were much better than perfect ... if that makes any sense. As she
gently massaged them and lightly pulled her nipples she said as she looked
at me looking at her, ³Now, breasts. That I can understand. Theyıre soft
and curvy, and each is different.They have nipples and some, like mine,
get very large and pretty when they are touched. Even I sometimes get
turned on by a pair of tits. But feet. I just donıt get it.² As she said
it, she wrinkled her toes again.

³Now that you put it that way² I said, ³it is difficult to argue that they
turn me on _more_ than tits. Itıs just different.²

 ³As different as this?² As she spoke, she slowly pulled aside the bottom
panel of her panties to reveal her naked, shaven cunt. She was clearly
excited by the show she was giving me: the petals of flesh that ringed her
hole were puffy and the pink flesh that I could see was very wet. Viscous,
it seemed to me, if I could touch. 

³I donıt know. I canıt see it very well.² This was not quite true.

³Really? Maybe this will help.² She stood up, took off her panties and sat
back down, now totally naked, legs wide apart, hands now between her legs
spreading her pussy wide and peering down. All of a sudden she glanced up
and said: ³Marc, this is terribly unfair. You could at least take off your
shoes!² So mesmerized was I that it never occurred to me to get undressed.
But I needed no further encouragement, and quickly stripped off my layers
as I watched her cunt, tits, and feet. She masturbated her whole body. By
the time I liberated it, my cock was as hard as it had ever been.

I fell to my knees in front of her and took one small foot into my hands.
I massaged it slowly with my fingers. I grabbed the other one, and rubbed
the two together as she watched and stroked her clit. Finally, I set them
down, began to lick the top of her left foot , and ran my hands slowly up
her thighs to her cunt. As she started to wiggle her toes again I took one
of them in my mouth and began to suck it as if it were a little penis, or
a huge clit. She gasped, but this may have been because at the same time I
was slowly inserting two fingers into her sopping, hairless  cunt.

³I see what you mean about feet. That feels incredibly good. Suck
me..yes,  suck my dick...suck my little toe-dick you whore...² I swear
thatıs what she said. And when she did, I stopped doing it, and began to
lick between her toes, lavishing attention on each little crevice as if it
were a little cunt. ³Gee.....! That feels so nice. Please, lick me, keep
licking ...² She was gasping for breath, and squeezing her small breasts
together as I slowly pumped my fingers in and out of her wet pussy, and
kept my mouth on her feet.

Suddenly I stopped, before she climaxed. ³Karen, I canıt fuck you until I
taste your cunt. Do you mind? Come here, please.² As I said this, I put
her feet down on the floor She quickly scooted her bottom up to the front
of the toilet where she sat. 

³By all means. Eat me! Just do something. Donıt stop! Hurry!²  Her legs
were spread wide, leaving her gorgeous vagina totally accessible to me.
She continued to play with her tits and nipples, and I reached both hands
to her crotch and opened up her shaved cunt like a tropical flower. I
attacked it in a frenzy, and I realized that feet, no matter how enticing,
were far inferior to the essential part of a woman. Karen was wimpering by
the time I ever so lightly stroked her clit with my tongue. I wanted to
tease her a bit, but things were pretty far along and we both knew the
kids would be finished with their check-ups soon. So I ran my tongue from
her clit to her asshole and couple of times, then plunged it up her
tunnel. I could tell she was close at this point so I slowly licked my way
out of her deep channel, up over her peehole and back to her clit, which
was now engorged. 

³God, your clit is so big! I think Iıll suck it. Iım going to go down on
it, and suck it into my mouth, and not let go no matter what. I wonder how
it tastes.² This sort of chatter had an amazing effect. Karen started
thrusting her pelvis to my face, and mewling like a kitten. Her cunt was
leaking juice like mad, and I could hold off no more: I began to suck her
clitty and did not stop until she began to jam her legs together and push
my head away, as she stifled a cry. 

³God! Now fuck my cunt! Now! Do it!² I was delirious with desire for her
at this point and would have fucked her in any case.

She stood up, turned around, and leaned over the washbasin, showing me her
ass and cunt, both dripping with my saliva and her woman juice. ³Oh, yes!
Please do it now! I really need this.² She wasnıt the only one.

I approached her quickly and my huge penis floated into her, sliding
through her viscous fluids and barely making contact, or so it seemed,
with the walls of her cunt. She was that wet. As I began to thrust into
her, I was acutely conscious of the heat inside her pussy. I spread the
cheeks of her bottom and ran my thumbs over the little bud of her anus. We
were both moaning softly by now and my cock was moving a great deal
faster. I ran my hands over her breasts, and nibbled on her ear.

 Ordinarily, I would have slowed down and varied the strokes, to coax
another orgasm out her, but we both knew that time was not our ally. So I
held nothing back, and began to ram her furiously until I reached the
point of no return. I exploded in a frenzy and we collapsed on top of an
ugly fuzzy rug. I kissed her, then, and as we hurried and dressed I asked
her to dinner.

³Ms. Pittman!² The knock was loud. ³Are you there? Amy is ready.²

³Yes, OK. Iıll be right there.² She kissed me, smiled, and whispered:
³About 7:30, 1400 Belleview Dr.²

She slipped out, and I followed a couple of minutes later. Dinner that
night was great and she told me all about what a jerk Pittman was before
he disappeared with my wife. 

³I donıt know.² I said. ³Iım feeling pretty good about old Pittman right now.² 

The End

Comments are appreciated. Please send them to Marc Proust at proust@scsn.net

-- 

Marc Proust
All comments are welcome and appreciated. Please respond to proust@scsn.net

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