1. Prom Night


    Date: 4/21/2017, Categories: Fetish, Taboo, Author: LuvHosedToes, Rating: 77, Source: xHamster

    I knocked briefly at the doorframe before poking my head into her room. “Amber,” I said, “your date’s here.” “Michael,” she responded incensed, “what are you thinking just barging in here while I’m getting dressed? Do you think you can just barge in here?!?” I glanced briefly at my fiancée’s teenage daughter, who appeared to be fully dressed, aside from trying to finish the zipper of her dress behind her back. She was youthful looking, maybe 5’ 6”, with blonde hair, smallish but perky breasts, well-toned legs, and a perfect ass. She was 18, a senior in high school. At 40, my soon-to-be wife Lisa was 11 years my senior – as I was 11 years Amber’s senior. Obviously, Amber and I didn’t try for a father-daughter relationship. “Here, since you’re going to be a Peeping Tom, you might as well help me with this”, gesturing behind her back. I stepped toward her, to help her with her zipper. “The door?!?” she barked. I looked questioningly at her. “I’m getting dressed here; the least you could do is close the door.” Confused, I walked over, closed the door, and headed back to help her with her zipper. “That’s better, Michael” she said, as she shifted her weight and rotated her shoulder so I could zip the last 3 inches of the zipper, and close the hook at the top. “Now I’m sure you want to help me with my shoes. I know how much you love my feet.” Somehow she had figured out my weakness. In 11 months of dating, Lisa had never figured out my foot fetish. I had been ready to bring it up ...
    a number of times, but never did, and Lisa had made certain comments that made me believe that she was not interested. I had accepted that, and since I loved Lisa in all ways – she was beautiful like her daughter, a little taller, with darker hair, and full breasts; what more could I ask for – I accepted that her not sharing in my fetish would not be the end of the world. But somehow Amber had keyed into it. She did have beautiful feet, small and soft, with high arches. She took good care of them, too. In this past spring, she had gotten a pedicure at least every other week. Today’s pedicure included an emerald green toenail polish, to match her dress, which could be seen glimmering beneath the shear, nude nylons she was wearing. The sheen of the nylon highlighted the curve of her arches and shadowed the space between each perfect little toe. The view was quite mesmerizing. “Well, what are you waiting for, foot-boy? My shoes aren’t going to put themselves on.” I snapped back into consciousness, took a knee in front to Amber, and reached for one of her shoes. I gathered up one of her shoes – an open strappy silver heel; far from the typical dyed pump most girls wear to match their prom dress – and brought it to her foot. She had her left leg crossed over her right, lifting her left foot off the ground, and pushing the hem of her dress up above her knee. I tried not to make it obvious, as from my kneeling vantage point, I noticed that under her dress, she was wearing her sheer ...
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