Foot fetish Archives - Seductive Gypsy

Seductive Lust Of His Princess

admin — Thu, 13 Feb 2025 23:34:52 +0000

Delicate strokes of the polish stained her toes. Something so simple, but yet his eyes watched the wand draw back to front with seductive lust. She giggled as he grew excited, her toes held as still as a statue. He could feel the moisture collecting in the sides of his cheeks, embarrassed with a little trickle escaped through the corner of his lips. A quick swipe of this tongue didn’t go un-noticed, her giggle became deeper and more childish. Like being caught with the last cookie after being told no.

“How’s that, Princess?” he asked, his voice thick with desire.

She wiggled her toes back and forth, inspecting they tiny digits. Each one coated in a flawless shade of crimson. She could complain, but there was no reason. He had done what he said. Painted a masterpiece of passion and desire on each nail. He even picked the color. They matched the shoes he purchased earlier in the day.

“Yes, Daddy,” her tongue played with the name she called him. It was done out of a playful nature, but when he readjusted his pants, she knew that would be his new name. Well, at least for her. No one else would dare use it. Her nails would fuck up the first pretty face that tried. Jealousy wasn’t pretty, but at times she couldn’t control it.

“Stop that shit before I put you over my knee and make you scream that name,” he warned.

Her cheek tugged upwards like the Cheshire cat, wiggling her toes in his face. The shoes sat at his knees and a pair of white socks laid next to them. Not the normal socks, but the silky ones with a row of lace around the top. It had been years since she wore them, but tonight, she would have them slipped on with nothing but sex on their minds.

One last blow across her toes and he slipped the shocking white socks on her feet. Each one followed by a pair of red patent leather shoe with a bow on the tip and a 3-inch heel on the bottom. They were the kind that most wore for holiday pictures with the fat man in the red suit. Shiny and pretty, she pulled them up to look at them. Not quite a reflection, but she could see a shadow in the soft material.

A sharp exhale as he stood, his massive frame towering over her petite shadow. She was a waif of a girl, but full woman in all the right places. Some of them unexplored for now, but soon he would leave his mark over her entire body. Extending a hand, he waited until her delicate grasp was within his. She was his property now and he God damn dared anyone to challenge that.

“Tonight, your mine. Don’t let me hear you speaking to another man or there will be hell to pay. All of your attention will be on me, and me alone. I don’t share. Do you understand that, Princess?” he asked.

She simply nodded at him knowing that she had never in her life felt this way before. Butterflies anticipating their release in her stomach, this was the man she dreamed of. The one from her dreams. All of her life she thought he was just a part of an overactive imagination, but no more. He was real, and she was his property. His Princess.

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Big Feet To Stomp Your Meat

admin — Sat, 18 Jan 2025 00:00:45 +0000

How many of you look at a woman’s feet and find them to be erotic? Probably more than anyone would ever guess. I know for me it personally is a sign of self care. Something you do for yourself, but in fact, it’s a wonderful aphrodisiac for others.

I’ve talked to many men over the years who love those cute little tootsies, but can honestly say some have shocked me. I understand getting a foot job, blowing all over pretty toes, but stomping? Let me tell you about a friend of mine. She loves selling those feet pictures, but a few of the guys have stood out. One had her stomp on dead bugs, squishing them between her toes. I was there when she filmed the video and it was fully disgusting. I hate bugs, so even dead ones scare me to death. Another time it was flowers. Crushing a dozen red roses. Yes, he paid for them and the video. I wanted to ask who hurt him, but laughed too hard instead. Her giant feet obliterated those beautiful flowers. She’s a size 10, which is also a fetish I am told.

What about ticklish feet. I am so ticklish, and can barely make it through a pedicure without laughing. I remember one time the salon was full of people. All the chairs full. Sitting next to me was a man. Nothing odd about that. He did have really nice feet though. The woman who did my feet was new to me and didn’t know that I have very sensitive soles. She rubbed, I laughed, and we both looked over when that man started moaning. At one point I swear he came in his pants, but I stayed silent. God dammit, I don’t do that shit for free. From that day forward I made sure to get my pedicures in the private room. No pay, no play.

I will admit that I find wrinkled soles rubbing over a mans cock to be empowering. His manhood under my feet, one push can be either pleasure or pain. I am all for the pleasure though. Soft strokes, toes tickling the balls, and last but not least, a splattering cum shot all over my silky smooth feet. So what about you? Do you like feet, and if so, why? Leave me a comment or message me on niteflirt.

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Foot Fetish Lead Him To Love

Gypsy — Wed, 20 Mar 2024 14:35:36 +0000

A Foot Fetish Fantasy.

WISH LIST

In the bustling heart of the city, amidst the flurry of footsteps and the cacophony of urban life, there existed a quaint little shoe store. Its name, “Sole Sanctuary,” whispered promises of comfort and style to those who sought refuge for their weary feet. And behind its polished glass windows and neatly arranged displays, there was a man who tended to the footwear needs of the city’s denizens: Henry.

Henry wasn’t just any ordinary shoe salesman. He possessed an uncanny passion for feet that bordered on obsession. To him, each foot was a masterpiece, each step a symphony of grace. While others saw shoes as mere accessories, Henry saw them as the vessels that cradled the objects of his affection.

Henry Had A Secret Foot Fetish.

With a warm smile and an expert eye, Henry greeted his customers, eager to assist them in finding the perfect fit. But behind his affable demeanor lurked a secret desire that he dared not reveal—a desire fueled by the tantalizing allure of the human foot.

As he knelt to measure a customer’s foot, Henry’s fingers would linger just a second longer than necessary, relishing the sensation of supple skin beneath his touch. He would admire the arches, the curves, the delicate lines that bespoke a lifetime of stories. And with each fitting, his longing only grew stronger.

Yet, Henry was careful to conceal his desires, maintaining a facade of professionalism at all times. He knew that indulging his fantasies could spell disaster for his reputation and his livelihood. And so, he buried his yearnings beneath layers of restraint, finding solace in the brief moments of intimacy afforded by his trade.

He Fell In Love.

But fate has a way of unraveling even the most carefully constructed facades. One fateful afternoon, a woman entered Sole Sanctuary, her presence commanding attention with every step. Her name was Olivia, and she possessed a beauty that transcended mere physicality—a beauty that ensnared Henry’s heart in an instant.

As Henry assisted Olivia in trying on a pair of heels, he found himself captivated by the sight of her slender feet, adorned with a delicate anklet that glimmered in the soft light of the store. His hands trembled as he knelt before her, his breath caught in his throat as he dared to imagine what it would feel like to caress those perfect arches, to worship at the altar of her feet.

Unbeknownst to Henry, Olivia was not oblivious to his desires.

With a knowing smile, she allowed him to indulge in his fantasies, granting him permission to explore the depths of his passion without fear of judgment or reproach. And in that moment, Henry realized that he had found his soulmate—not in the form of a person, but in the embodiment of his deepest desires.

From that day forth, Henry and Olivia shared a bond forged in the fires of passion and understanding. Together, they explored the realms of pleasure and fulfillment, their love transcending the boundaries of convention and expectation. And as they walked hand in hand into the sunset, Henry knew that he had found his true calling—not just as a shoe salesman, but as a devotee of the human foot, forever bound to worship at the altar of his beloved’s soles.

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The Rockstar: An erotic story with sole

Gypsy — Sun, 09 Jul 2023 15:39:27 +0000

An erotic story with a twist.

“Gypsy, you’re wanted for the weekend in Vegas. Your ticket is at the airport, but this one, well this is something special. You need to sign this non-disclosure before leaving.”

It wasn’t the first time I signed one, but I almost died when I read the name. I can’t mention who this was, but he is enormous right now. I won’t ever let it slip, or tell you if you guess, but wow, I was in for a shock.

Arriving late Friday evening, a limo waited for me at the airport. Not unusual. Some of my clients are very well connected, and they do this quite frequently for me. Slipping into the sleek black car, a bottle of champagne was chilled and ready for me to enjoy my relaxing ride to the Venetian. I love that place, to be honest. Staying there is just a little pricey when you do it on your own dime.

I checked in and escorted to my room. There was a bathtub where the bubbles that looked like champagne fizzed when filled. I was in mid soak when the door opened, and there he stood. My god! I was starstruck for a moment, but he sure wasn’t. Dropping the robe, without a word, he joined me in the tub. From the view I had, he didn’t need an escort to please that beast between his legs.

“Did you have a good flight?” he asked.

That voice was smooth as silk. As we relaxed in hot water, a bellhop entered the room and left a bottle of Dom Perigon and two chilled glasses. My host popped the cork the moment he was gone. Pouring the drink, he leaned in for a seductive brush against my lips before handing it over. I think that was the first of many moments that I lost my breath. Many times in the past I had fantasized about this man, and here I was with him. I needed to remember he was human, just like anyone else. Only much better looking than most.

“It wasn’t bad at all. No screaming kids in first class,” I laughed.

We both had a good laugh at that one. I hate flying and listening to marital issues, kids crying, and how much someone doesn’t want to visit the bitch mother in law. Usually, that’s when my headphones become my best friend.

Reaching a hand out for me to join him on the other side, I slid my tiny frame over and nestled into his side. It was the kind of moment that most girls dreamed about experiencing. This man didn’t need to pay a whore for services. Any girl in her right mind would have taken my place for free, but he wanted to be able to enjoy himself without any repercussions. An escort is a perfect woman for that!

I had heard things about this man. He has a bit of a fetish for the feet. I can’t say I blame him. A foot carries the weight of the world upon them. His hand brushing down my silken locks, I admit now that I felt special for that one moment in life. We know that is not true. I am a whore who knows how to shut up. A woman who sells her pussy to the highest bidder, but not once did he make me feel that way. I felt like I mattered to at least one person in this heartless world. Pity that feeling was brought forth by the exchange of currency.

“I want you to move back to the other side, lift your foot, and show me, no, entice me to worship that perfect sole!” he said, his voice husky.

I have done many sessions with Men who love feet, but to know this particular man wanted to stroke, lick, and envelope my foot made something deep inside of me twinge with power. I have stated many times that I am not at all a Dominate, but I love twisting and tugging a man around my finger, or in this case, around my little toe.

I slipped back to my spot, lifting that size seven from the warm water. His eyes watched as a twist and turn of the ankle beckoned him to touch. In all honesty, I wanted to feel his mouth on my flesh. Inching closer to the edge, pressing my soft heel against his cheek, I lovingly stroked across the day’s growth of stubble. It felt like an electrical charge rushing through my body. Brushing my digits over his lips, I wanted, No! I needed to feel his tongue bathe my foot. Cleanse me from sole to soul.

I knew he was stroking, but I ignored it. I didn’t care about his hand massaging over that cock. All I needed was this bliss that was enveloping me with each lap of the skilled oral manipulator over my flesh. I would have sold my soul at that point. He was the only man to ever make me cum without either of us touching my genitals. Crying out, I came with a force that I had never experienced before. Rapture rushing through my veins. I would have been sedated with just this, but there was so much more to the weekend. Yes, I fucked him. Yes, he was terrific. Too bad I can’t tell you who he is, but a secret is a secret.

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