I was fifty, single, and living alone.  I had a pretty good job, a nice car, and a comfortable apartment.  For a while, that was all passable, but a bit lonely.  So, I started frequenting a couple of local pubs.  I wasn’t looking for a long-term relationship, though I would not have been averse to that, were it to happen.  For a couple of months, nothing happened, and I remained a bit lonely.  Then, on one fateful Thursday night, I overheard a funny comment from a table of people.  Uninvited, I replied to the comment, only to be met with a few uncomfortable grins. 

Embarrassed, I quickly mumbled, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt”, and started to turn away, when a guy at the table said it was fine.  He pushed an empty chair towards me and invited me to take a seat.  That was the beginning of a fun and satisfying social life, and eventually, unbeknownst to me, one of the most interesting and erotic relationships of my life. 

There were ten people at the table that night, couples and singles, with an age range of twenty-five to fifty, with me being the oldest, or close to it.  All of them were friendly and engaging.  I enjoyed talking to all of them in various small groups, throughout the night.  I left the pub much later than I had planned but hoped that I had just planted the seedling of a social life. 

For the next few weeks, I was there every Thursday night, hoping to find this crowd that had to some degree befriended me.  During those few weeks, I found some of my new friends on every visit, and I was overjoyed to meet many more people that were part of the group.  Apparently, this was a group of about forty friends, not just the ten that I had met on that first night. 

Better still, this wonderful group of people was not just barflies.  They got together in various groups for hobbies and activities: hikes, barbecues, days at the beach, days at a park, bicycle rides, movies, concerts, and more.  These amazing people do all the fun activities that people do together.  They readily included me.  This meant putting me on their E-mail list through which all the invitations to all the activities were sent. 

Now, beyond a job, a car, and an apartment, I had friends!  I had a social life!  I was ecstatic! 

Of the forty people in the group, about fifteen were single women of various ages.  I went to many of the activities and chatted with everyone.  I did not want to take a chance of ruining this fantastic social life by pursuing any of the women, but I chatted with them and even flirted with them a little bit.  I felt I had achieved the perfect balance. 

Only one factor influenced me to risk that balance.  Her name was Paula.  She had a pretty face and a body that was just the right combination of curvy and athletic.  She was also tall, roughly my height, a little taller when she wore heels.  However, I can honestly say that I was less attracted to these physical features than to her sparkling eyes and expressive face.  She was intelligent and funny, and a pleasure to talk to.  When I got into a conversation with her, time simply flew by. 

She was one of the younger members of the group, probably 25 to 30, while I was one of the oldest, but this age difference did not seem to bother her, and it certainly didn’t bother me.  I made every excuse to chat with her and she seemed more than happy to let me.  I so enjoyed spending time with her. 

Yes, I was more attracted to her personality and expressiveness than to her face and body.  However, there was one exception.  I am a normal, regular guy, with only a couple of small peculiarities, one of which is my intense and at times overpowering foot fetish.  A pair of beautiful female feet can take my breath away and make my heart beat faster. 

And Paula’s feet were not just beautiful.  They were exquisite, with high arches, perfect smooth curves of the heels, the soles, and the balls of the feet, and perfectly shaped toes.  Adding to these natural features were the smooth and soft appearance and the beautifully enameled toenails that can only result from frequent top-quality pedicures. 

She occasionally wore sexy heels, but her feet were so perfect that they looked amazing even in a beat-up old pair of flip-flops.  The only time I was disappointed was when she wore sneakers, running shoes, or hiking boots that completely deprived me of any view of her luscious feet. 

When she wore footwear that displayed her delectable feet, or on those rare and memorable occasions when she went barefoot, I did my best to avoid staring at those objects of my desire.  Her occasional sly smirk when I returned my gaze to her face told me that I was failing.  I was certain that she was aware of my attraction to her feet. 

One weekend, a small group of us went on a long hike.  I picked Paula up at her apartment so she would not have to drive alone.  I loved the fact that the drive and the hike gave me hours of glorious happiness in Paula’s company, but that happiness was dampened slightly by the fact that Paula wore hiking boots that provided me no chance of glimpsing her gorgeous feet. 

The hike ended at a small indoor/outdoor café and coffee shop.  While the rest of our party grabbed coffees to go and hurried to their cars, Paula and I took our coffees to a wrought-iron café table outside and sat opposite each other.  Paula immediately put her booted feet up on the chair next to me.  After taking a few sips of her coffee, Paula asked me to take off her boots.  Trying to act casual and unaffected, I agreed and removed her boots. 

Paula grinned at me and purred, “The socks too, silly.” 

As I peeled her sweaty socks from her perfect feet, I could feel my heart race and my breathing become erratic.  Paula grinned at me and commented that my hands were shaking. 

Still grinning, Paula thanked me and then said, “My feet feel so much better with my boots and socks off, but they’re still so sore from the hike.  Would you be a doll and rub them for me?” 

Trying my best to act nonchalant, I lifted one of her beautiful feet and started to rub it.  I squeezed Paula’s perfect foot, I rubbed the sole, and I individually massaged each lovely toe.  Paula closed her eyes and rested her head back.  After about fifteen minutes, she pulled her foot away from my hands and rested it on my thigh, so that she could extend her other foot towards me. 

“Don’t forget this one”, she purred. 

I immediately grabbed the offered foot and began to massage it, hoping desperately that my thin hiking shorts were sufficient to hide my excitement. 

After Paula’s second foot had received equal treatment, she pulled both feet away from me, raised her head, opened her deep penetrating eyes, grinned at me, and cheerfully asked, “Shall we go?” 

She didn’t wait for an answer.  She rose from her chair and started walking towards the parking lot, leaving her empty cup, her backpack, boots, and socks behind.  After briefly watching the entrancing sight of this amazing woman walking away from me barefoot, I threw away our trash, gathered up all our belongings, and trotted after her towards the car. 

I pressed my key button to unlock the car.  It took me a few minutes to load the backpacks, boots, and socks into the back seat.  I was about to slide into the driver’s seat when I noticed that Paula was standing expectantly at the passenger door.  After a moment’s thought, I knew what was expected of me.  I ran around the car, opened the door for her, waited for her to slide into the passenger’s seat, and closed the door behind her. 

By the time I got back into the driver’s seat, Paula had positioned herself comfortably, her seat slightly reclined, and her delightful feet up on the dashboard.  After I started the car, Paula selected a radio station and seductively moved her feet and toes to the music.  I found this very pleasant yet extremely distracting. 

I did a fairly good job of keeping my eyes on the road sufficiently to drive moderately safely, until a slow Latin rhythm came on the radio.  This had Paula swaying her feet so sensuously that I was effectively hypnotized.  I don’t know how long I had been staring at Paula’s feet, before hearing her shout to stop.  Glancing up, I saw that I was about to run a red light and I brought the car to a screeching halt. 

After the light turned green and I drove a few more blocks, Paula pointed to a parking lot and instructed me to pull in and stop the car.  She pulled her stunning feet from the dashboard, turned towards me, and fixed her gaze squarely into my eyes. 

In a calm but firm voice, Paula asked, “Michael.  Do you have a thing for my feet?”

I should have known this was coming, but somehow, I was caught completely off guard. 

After sputtering a few aahh’s, umm’s, and partial phrases, I started a rambling and barely coherent answer, “I guess, sort of, well, yes, but not on purpose.  I love our friendship, Paula.  I would never jeopardize it.  I just, I just, your feet, they, they make me weak, and I just can’t.  I just need.  I can’t resist them.  I, I, I don’t know.  They’re just so beautiful.  They’re irresistible.  I don’t know what to do.  I’ll, I’ll try not to, not to, I don’t know.  Please, Paula.  I just, I just …”

I don’t know how long I would have rambled on, but Paula took mercy on me and shushed me into silence.  My heart was beating.  My breathing was erratic. 

Paula smiled at me and said, “It’s alright, Michael.  It’s alright.  We’re friends.  We’re good friends.  I don’t mind that you find my feet attractive.  I don’t mind you looking at them.  I certainly don’t mind you massaging them whenever I tell you to.  You will massage my feet whenever I tell you to, won’t you, Michael?”

Barely able to talk, I mumbled affirmative noises and nodded my head up and down. 

Paula’s smile broadened as she said, “That’s good Michael.  That’s very good.  I’ll bet you’d like to get even closer to my feet, even more intimate with my feet.  That might be possible.  Of course, I’d be allowing that as a favor to you.  So, I think it’s fair of me to expect something from you in return. It will mostly be little things, like clearing the table, carrying my things, and opening the car door for me, as you did today.  You don’t mind doing things for me, do you, Michael?”

While I was extremely excited and my throat was dry, I had partially regained the power of speech. 

I replied, “No, Paula.  I don’t mind.  I love doing things for you.” 

To this, Paula declared, “Good.  So, it’s settled.  I’ll let you ogle my feet and touch them in various ways, and you will do things for me as I demand, verbally or not. Agreed?”

I quickly replied, “Yes, Paula, I’ll do whatever you want me to, but what do you mean by, “verbally or not?” 

Paula showed a combination of amusement and mild irritation as she explained, “Michael, you’re an intelligent person.  You should be able to figure it out, but I’ll give you some examples.  If I shove my purse or some shopping bags into your chest, you must immediately take them and carry them until I tell you to put them down or give them back.  If we’re walking somewhere and I kick off my shoes and keep walking, obviously you are to pick them up and carry them.  When we are in a group and you are talking, if I start talking you are to immediately stop talking and turn your full attention to what I am saying.  Will that type of thing be a problem for you, Michael?”

I quickly replied, “No, Paula, that won’t be a problem.”

Paula declared, “That’s good, Michael, and responding respectfully to me using my name, Paula, will be fine when we are among our friends.  However, when we are only among strangers, you are to address me as Miss Paula, and when we are alone, you are to address me as Goddess Paula.  Do you think you can handle that, Michael?”

I immediately replied, “Yes, Goddess Paula.”

Paula said, “Good”, raised one of her gorgeous feet to my lips, and commanded, “Kiss.”

I replied “Yes, Goddess Paula”, and immediately began showering the sole of her foot with kisses. 

After a couple of minutes, we repeated this ritual with her other foot.  Eventually, she pulled both her feet away, turned to face front with her feet on the floor, probably to allow me to concentrate on my driving. 

Without looking at me, she commanded, “Drive.”

I replied “Yes, Goddess Paula”, started the car, and drove, barely noticing the self-satisfied grin that crossed her pretty lips. 

When we reached Paula’s house, she got out of my car and walked into the house without a word.  I sat in the car, momentarily dumbfounded until it hit me that this was one of those non-verbal commands Paula had explained to me.  I quickly gathered up her backpack, boots, socks, and other belongings, and entered her small, but neat and well-appointed house.  I stopped at the door to remove my own muddy boots and socks, then carried her belongings into the kitchen, where she instructed me to place them on the floor, next to the kitchen table. 

Paula then instructed, “Take everything out of my pack.  Trash goes in the trash barrel under the sink.  Pile soiled clothing right there next to the doorway.  Set everything else from the backpack right there on the kitchen counter.  You’ll find rags, paper towels, and boot oil under the sink.  When you are done with all that, scrub the kitchen floor, and I expect a glass of cold Chablis waiting for me when I return from my shower.  Any questions?”

Shocked that “doing things for” Paula had quickly evolved into her treatment of me as her household servant, but strangely more enamored with her than ever, I mumbled, “Yes, Goddess Paula.”

At that, she smiled, turned away, and left the kitchen.  After watching her beautiful form walk away, I quickly got to work.  After emptying her backpack, I heard a shower.  Hoping she would take a long shower after our day of hiking, I continued with my chores. 

When I heard the shower turned off, I had taken care of her hiking gear and was down on my hands and knees, scrubbing the kitchen floor.  I finished quickly, but thoroughly.  I had just found the wine glasses, opened a bottle of Chablis from the refrigerator, and poured a glass when Paula walked in. 

She was a vision of beauty in my eyes, wearing a short silky bathrobe, and apparently nothing else.  She was drying her still-wet hair with a towel as she strolled around the kitchen and inspected my work. 

I was ecstatic when the words, “Very good, Michael.  You may kiss my feet”, emanated from her lovely lips. 

I immediately dropped to my hands and knees and showered her gorgeous feet with kisses.  As she walked through the kitchen, picking up her glass of wine and taking a seat, I crawled behind her like a puppy, resuming my foot kissing each time she stopped long enough for me to do so.

As she was now seated, I was able to alternately lift her feet to my lips and place loving kisses all over the soles of her feet.  Then, Paula shocked me by placing a foot in my crotch and rubbing my already hard cock through my hiking shorts.  I managed to continue kissing her feet, though my head was spinning, and I was moaning uncontrollably. 

Paula smiled down at me and said, “You may suck my toes, Michael.”

I immediately replied, “Yes, Goddess Paula.  Thank you, Goddess Paula” and began sucking her toes, individually, and in groups of twos and threes.  

At some points, I even fit all five toes in my mouth.  As I sucked her toes, my tongue licked between her toes.  Paula appeared relaxed as she sipped her wine and enjoyed my oral worship of her glorious feet.  I was in heaven, though I did have an odd thought flit through my mind that I wish she had allowed me to lick her feet and suck her toes before she showered, so that I might have been allowed to lick and suck the day’s dirt and sweat from my Goddess’s luscious feet and toes. 

As I licked and sucked, one of Paula’s feet, she kept her other foot in my crotch, rubbing my rock-hard cock through my hiking shorts.  I kept squirming and moaning but continued to focus on orally worshipping her feet and toes. 

Then, she started verbally teasing me, “Does that feel good, Michael?  Are you close to cumming?  Do you want to cum?  Do you need to cum?” 

I moaned and begged, “Yes, Goddess Paula.  Please, please, please, Goddess Paula.  Please, may I cum, Goddess Paula?” 

Then, just as I started shaking, just as I was about to blow a huge load, Paula pulled her feet away, and laughed.  She then told me to stand up.  Paula put her arms around me, gave me a friendly peck on the cheek, and told me it was time for me to go. 

I stood there dumbfounded and sputtering, “What? No! Please, Goddess Paula, I was so close.  Please!”

Paula burst out laughing.  She told me that she should punish me for questioning her, but that since this was all new to me and since I looked so cute and pathetic, she’d let it go. 

Then, like an adult calmly making a difficult situation clear to a small child, Paula explained: “Michael, I love your attraction to my feet and your worship of my feet.  I love your obedience to my orders and desires.  I love teasing you to distraction.  But you are seldom, if ever, going to be allowed to cum in my presence.  You will leave most of our dates with the worst case of blue balls imaginable.”

Paula continued, “I suspect that, when you get home after each date, you will need to masturbate for several hours, shooting a few loads of cum, to get over the after-effects of our date.  But that’s your problem, not mine.  I’ll understand completely if this is too much for you and you want to end our relationship now.  It’s your decision, Michael.”

Not thinking I could handle this teasing and denial on a regular basis, I was ready to bow out of our relationship.  But my mind was suddenly flooded with thoughts of her intelligence and humor, her overall beauty, and of course the beauty, softness, and delicious taste of her heavenly feet, and I knew I couldn’t live without her. 

Immediately dropping back to my knees and folding my hands as though praying, I pitifully started begging, “That’s fine, Goddess Paula.  I want you and need you.  I’m so happy that you allow me to worship your feet and follow your orders.  I’m sorry I was so selfish as to expect you to help me cum.  Please, please, please, keep me, Goddess Paula.  I’ll do anything.”

Paula smiled down at me and said, “That’s wonderful, Michael.  But don’t kid yourself.  You have so much more suffering and humiliation to endure for my amusement.  Bye bye.  I’ll call you when I want to get together again.  Lock the door on your way out.” 

I locked Paula’s door and started walking to my car in a daze.  I knew that life with Goddess Paula would be difficult, and I knew that I would be masturbating alone like never before.  My reverie was broken by the sound of a door opening behind me.  I turned around.  The sight of Paula, barefoot and wearing only her skimpy bathrobe, hardened my cock immediately.  She pulled me close and forced something into my hand. 

She whispered in my ear, “Michael, you need to learn to obey me even when I’m not there to check on you.  I know you are going to masturbate as soon as you get home.  Put these in your mouth before you start, and don’t take them out until after you’ve finished.”

She gave me another peck on the cheek and ran back into her house.  Looking down at my hand, I saw that she had given me her dirty, sweaty hiking socks.  I continued down her drive to my car, strangely happy that I would soon be in my apartment, jerking off with Goddess Paula’s dirty, sweaty hiking socks in my mouth.  And I was strangely happy at the thought that this was only the beginning.