“…with…um...with my feet?”
You stare back in the dim light of the small cottage, the sight of the fey-eared young woman before you. You can see one of her wide, blue-green eyes staring back into yours, the other obscured beneath a lock of her rose pink hair. Her soft, uncertain voice barely rises above the faint rumble of the storm outside, her slender frame hesitant as she tilts her head.
Her skin is pale—fair—her long legs folded back on the cushions of the wicker bench to either side of her beneath her silken, leaf-like skirt. Her knees are pressed together in your direction, her calves disappearing into the folds of the thin blanket now sliding down her back.
You swallow, your mind retracing the events that had led you to this point.
It had been nearly three months since she’d found you in the depths of the forest. You couldn’t remember how you’d gotten there. Where you’d come from. Even then, though, you’d known she was different when you’d met her. Not human, like you were.
She was a nymph. A forest spirit.
The home she’d brought you to was a small cottage built into the hollow of an ancient tree. A tiny spring lay not far from its entrance, a narrow trickle of a stream flowing out from it.
You weren’t sure what memories you’d left behind—family, friends, the home you’d lived in—but as the weeks went on, you had found yourself worrying about it less and less.
Living here, with the nymph, was enough. Though neither of you spoke much, there was a sense of understanding between you. The long silences were comfortable. Natural.
You swallow again, a small pang of guilt rising in your chest.
Despite the sense of calm you’d found in the nymph’s presence, though, there was another sensation that seemed to take hold from time to time. A restlessness. An anxiousness.
Her lithe form was graceful. Mesmerizing. More and more you found it difficult to look away.
Her face. Her neck. The gentle swell of her breasts beneath her silken camisole. The smooth skin of her exposed midriff. Her long, pale legs.
You swallow a third time.
More often as of late, though, you would find your eyes drifting further downward. Past her knees. Past her calves. Past the thin, braided anklets that dangled just above her heels.
The nymph didn’t wear boots like you did. She walked barefoot, her knowledge of the forest guiding her steps.
Her feet were slender. Graceful. Her thin, pink toes were lithe and animated.
Sometimes they would grip pensively at the grass beneath her. Other times they’d dance up and down, flashing you glances of the soft, pink pads beneath. They were a window into her thoughts and feelings—emotions that were otherwise difficult to read on her face.
You had tried to ignore the growing restlessness inside you as your awareness of her had grown. But it had been difficult, especially as of late.
You click your teeth.
It was frustrating—your lack of control over your own thoughts. But no matter what you tried, you couldn’t seem to dispel them.
Your mind slowly drifting back to the present, you watch as the nymph continues to stare awkwardly in your direction, uncertainty still wavering in her eyes. You can see her shift on the cushion beneath her.
It’s hard to miss the embarrassment in her face. You can feel a similar expression mirrored on your own. It was hardly surprising.
Asking her for something like this…here…out of nowhere...in the middle of the night…
You can feel your cheeks grow warm.
You glance up at the nymph from your seat on the floor cot resting at the bench’s side.
Even without your memories of the life you’d had before, you knew this kind of request was unbecoming. Not something you just asked someone on a whim.
You watch the nymph’s eyes shift awkwardly toward the room around you, as if searching for signs of other onlookers. The rain continues to patter softly against the windows outside as you follow her profile, another faint flash of light casting shadows across the room as the distant thunder rolls past.
You hadn’t intended to do this. To ask this of her.
But with the night, and your restlessness, and her presence so close to yours…you’d broken.
You shake your head.
You’d regretted the words the moment they'd left your mouth.
It wasn’t fair for you to put her in this position. To make her respond to this sort of request. After all she’d already done for you.
You can already the feel the guilt rising in your chest.
It was best you told her to ignore the question. To pretend you hadn’t asked it.
You could still bow your head. Ask forgiveness. Apologize for bringing something like that up in the first place.
You close your eyes, shaking your head in the darkness.
It was time you moved on. Got yourself in order. Learned to keep your desires under control.
You glance back up, exhaling as you work up the courage to speak.
“I—”
“—I…um…I can try…”
You pause, your words dying on your tongue as the nymph’s soft voice interrupts you. You can feel your mind go blank.
What—what had she just said?
You glance back up, meeting the nymph’s gaze. You can see her blue-green eyes staring back at you beneath the same lock of hair, the same faint hesitance in her expression still visible.
You can hear a small voice in the back of you mind—your rational self—calling out to you.
Apologize. Tell her it’s alright. Tell her she doesn’t need to do something like that.
But the words don’t come. You can’t bring yourself to say them, even though you know you should.
Noting the intensity of your gaze, you can see a faint blush rise in the nymph’s cheeks. She averts her eyes, slowly fidgeting with the hem of her skirt.
“…I don’t know how good it will feel…but...um...I can try.”
The small voice in the back of your mind dies completely, leaving only a faint, lingering guilt behind.
You blink, your eyes trailing down the lithe figure of the nymph in the low light.
Her bare shoulders. The gentle swell of her breasts. Her smooth thighs pressed together in front of her. Her long legs trailing off beneath the blankets.
You swallow.
Was this…was this really happening?
You watch the nymph shift in front of you, drawing her knees up to her chest. Your eyes glide down her slender calves. Past her ankles. Past the braided anklets there.
Catching your gaze, the nymph shifts forward, closing her palms over the tips of her toes as they dangle off the edge of the cushion.
You find your gaze torn between the nymph’s eyes and her hands, watching her fingers shift slightly as she clenches her toes. Her feet are pointed slightly inward, soles resting awkwardly beneath her on the bench.
You swallow again.
Above you, the nymph glances back down in your direction. You can hear her voice waver, an awkwardness to her movements.
“…how…how should I start?”
You glance back up at her, the tempo of your heart picking up in your chest. You can see her shift again, her toes clenching and unclenching as they shift beneath her fingers.
You try to search for the words, but they don’t come. Your throat is dry. You can feel the heat rising in your chest.
The guilty voice in the back of your mind returns again. You can almost see the other version of yourself rolling their eyes as they speak, realizing your common sense has long since been overridden.
What were you just waiting there for? This was what you'd wanted, wasn’t it? The least you could do was answer her.
You shake your head. The voice was right.
As you go to respond, however, you hear the nymph’s voice break over the silence again.
“…um…like this, maybe?”
Glancing back up you see the nymph scoot back in her seat, slowly, awkwardly raising her feet off the cushion.
Your eyes go wide, your words dying on your tongue once more.
The undersides of the nymph’s feet are a gentle pink, the contrast to her fair skin visible even in the dim light. You can see the slender curve their arches lead into the gentle cleft of her soles, the undersides smoother and softer looking than you could have imagined. Her long fingers still obscure her toes from view, her fingertips leaving gentle impressions against the tops of her soles as she grips them gently.
You swallow.
You can feel the heat starting to rise within you.
“…is that…um…good?”
You blink, staring up at the nymph, her face partially obscured by your view of her feet. Her blush is still present, eyes shifting back and forth as they’re unable to fully settle on your own.
Still at a loss for words, you nod dimly. You can sense a faint bit of tightness—resistance—growing in your lap.
You watch the nymph reply with a slow nod of her own.
“…um…alright…”
You watch her point her feet inward, bringing the tips of her fingers together as they continue to hide her toes from view. You can see her gently pull back on her toes with her hands, the faint creases in her arches and soles going smooth.
You feel another tugging sensation in your chest.
The soles she walked on everyday. The same ones you caught small glimpses of every now and then. Now there before you. Smooth. Gentle. Soft. Exposed.
You inhale.
At this proximity, the nymph’s scent is inviting as usual. Fresh. Earthy. Like grass. Like dew. But from this position—before her, beneath her—there’s something else you pick up on. A sharpness that wasn’t usually there. The faint tinge of sweat.
You clutch at your chest with a hand, the movement causing the nymph to shift in concern. You can see her staring down at you, her eyes widening slightly, her gaze shifting from your chest to your eyes in confusion.
You shake your head, trying to assuage her worries. Your can feel your heart continuing to hammer away in your chest.
You can see the nymph’s tense shoulders relax, the concern slowly leaving her expression. Glancing down at you and back to her feet, you see her swallow, getting ready to speak again.
“…um…”
The nymph’s voice trails off. Glancing off to her side, you can see her hesitate for a moment, small flashes of her pink toes peeking out between her fingers as she clenches and unclenches them self-consciously.
Seeming to come to a decision, you watch her squeeze her eyes shut, the blush in her cheeks growing faintly warmer. Slowly, she releases her grip, sliding her fingers to the side.
You watch as, one by one, ten tiny, plump, pink toe pads pop into sight, their undersides exposed to the night air.
The invisible chain inside your chest tugs you forward again. You can feel the heat rising in your chest.
The sharp, sweet smell grows faintly stronger. You watch the her toes clench and unclench as you stare, the nymph unaccustomed to this level of attention on the undersides of her feet.
Your eyes widen as the nymph glances back down at you, sliding her hands down to grip her soles. Her splayed toes continue to clench and unclench, her heels coming together as she glances down at you from behind her knees. The blush in her cheeks is even deeper now.
You grit your teeth.
It was getting difficult to sit still. You can feel pins and needles running along your arms. Across the palms of your hands.
Meeting your eyes, you see the nymph inhale, closing her eyes for a moment before nodding.
“You…um…can touch them…if you want.”
Your eyes widen.
You glance at the bottoms of her feet, then back to her flushed expression.
Was this…was this really alright?
The nymph nods again. Her blush hasn’t faded.
Slowly, you lift your hands from your lap.
They feel big. Awkward. Clumsy compared to the nymph’s slender feet.
Was touching them with hands like yours some sort of sin? You couldn’t help but shake the feeling that it somehow was.
You swallow.
Slowly, your hands move forward. You see the nymph’s feet tense on your approach, toes clenching hesitantly as she slides her fingers back to grip her ankles. Your hands hover a few inches away, the faint wrinkles reappearing beneath her soles as she arches her feet.
They look so gentle, compared to your hands.
You glance back up at the nymph. She nods again.
Slowly, your hands close around her feet, the nymph flinching at the contact. You can feel a sudden, electric prickle at the base of your neck, the tingle working its way down your spine as you wrap your palms around her soles.
Her skin is smooth to the touch, your thumbs sinking into to the soft flesh at the base of her toes.
You can feel another tugging sensation in your chest. Another jolt.
Her feet feel small in your hands. Soft. Delicate.
In front of you, the nymph shifts in her seat, averting her gaze from yours. Her eyes remain fixed on your hands as they grip her slender feet, the rate of her breathing picking up faintly.
The look only deepens the aching in your chest. Glancing back down at your hands, you begin to run your thumbs in small circles across her soles, tracing faint lines across them.
You see the nymph squeeze her eyes shut, looking away as she clenches her toes. You catch full sight of her nails for the first time, the cute, pink nailbeds flushing a darker pink as she clenches them in embarrassment.
You slide your palms up the sides of her feet, absently running them toward the undersides of her toes. You can hear the nymph’s breathing hitch for a moment as she buries her face behind her knees, the tips of her pointed ears going red.
You can feel her toes clench down around your thumbs, locking them in place to prevent further movement.
You can feel a small surge of excitement light your chest at the sudden resistance. You press a bit more firmly, your thumbs tracing the undersides of her toes from inside to out. The nymph’s slender feet continue to tense in your hands as you do so, her toes clenching as her breathing comes in faint, airy puffs from above.
You repeat the motion a second time—a third—gently kneading at the top of her soles with your thumbs. Slowly, the undersides of her feet relax, revealing her tiny, pink toe pads to the dim light once more.
Another distant echo of thunder rolls outside as you trail thumbs along them, massaging the bases of the slender joints.
The nymph’s ears, the only things you could see poking out from behind her knees, grow redder, her airy breaths stopping and starting awkwardly for a moment.
Despite the burning in your chest, you can feel a faint smile tugging at your lips. A growing sense of excitement. Energy. Anticipation.
You trace your fingers along the soft, squishy pads of her toes. They clench again—less forcefully this time—reacting to your touch, but not denying you access. You splay each digit as you run your thumb along them, watching them bounce back into place as you pass over them one by one.
You glance back up at the nymph. You can see that her breathing has slowed somewhat, her chest rising and falling in a more measured rhythm as she tries to calm herself.
You slide your hands down the cool undersides of her feet, bringing your thumbs to rest in the gentle curves of her arches. Pressing in, you can feel a bit more resistance—her feet flexing at the sensation. You watch her let out a slow breath, her shoulders sinking down at her sides.
You massage her arches, sliding your thumb to rest up in the small groove at the base of her sole. The fit is almost perfect—your hands gripping her slender feet like they were meant to be there.
Occasionally, you let your thumb drift upwards before working their way back down, brushing up against the undersides of her toes and flesh of her soles before applying more firm pressure to her arches. Eventually, you work your way to the underside of her heels, squeezing them gently as you run your fingers along either side of them.
Another breath escapes the nymph's lips as you watch the creases in her arch, her toes clenching and unclenching. While you can still see the blush in her cheeks, she seems to have relaxed somewhat—the undersides of her exposed feet becoming accustomed to your touch.
Another surge of intensity jumps in your chest. A surge of impulse.
Before the nymph can respond, you lean inward, pressing the undersides her slender feet up against your face—smothering your cheeks against the soft, cool skin.
A muffled squeak escapes into the nymph’s thighs above you, her toes immediately clenching against your face. You can see her knees suddenly part above you, her eyes wide.
You can see her face is flushed red now, her eyes wide with embarrassment.
You meet her gaze from behind the narrow gap between her soles, your own cheeks flushing warm as you realize what you’d done.
There’s a moment of silence, the two of you staring back at each other between the nymph’s parted legs. You can see her chest rise and fall, her eyes locked on yours as the sound of your shared breathing and the rain fills the room.
Slowly, she closes her eyes, giving you an awkward nod. You can feel the undersides of her feet relax against your face, her toe pads tracing gingerly against your skin as they release their grip on your cheeks.
The warmth hasn’t left your cheeks, nor hers. As you exhale, steeling yourself, you can see her eye crack back open, watching you silently from above. Despite giving you her permission, you can still see her fighting with her embarrassment, struggling to keep her breathing quiet.
Conflicting feelings argue in your chest. The self-consciousness of being watched. The excitement of the object of your affection staring down at you. Her feet pressed against your face. Her expression flustered.
You can feel the heat in your chest flare again. Pulling your face back from the undersides of the nymph’s feet again, you gently cup them together, eyes exploring the faint creases that appear along their undersides as they clench anxiously in front of you. Then, with another breath, you push your head forward, burying the front of you face—your lips, your nose, your eyes—against her soles.
A tingle runs down your spine as the cool, supple undersides of her feet mold to contours of your face, her toes fidgeting restlessly as they curl at the edges of your eyelashes. You can hear her squeak above you—her attempts to keep quiet failing at your sudden movement. Cracking an eye open as you glance up between her toes, you can see her staring back down at you, mortified, her blue eyes wide as they peek out between her fingers.
Your own heart racing, you inhale, the sharp, sweet smell of sweat and earth filling your senses as you shift your face back and forth.
You can hear more uneven squeaks. More sharp intakes of breath. The nymph’s entire face is flushed red behind her fingers, her ears burning a dark red.
Your heart leaps in your chest. Another surge of impulse guides you. You close your eyes, rubbing your face back and forth. Inhaling. Exhaling. Enjoying the cool sensation of the nymph’s feet against your face.
The softness of her soles. The patter of her toes clenching against your face. Her sounds. Her scent. It’s entrancing. Intoxicating. Addicting.
After a few moments of this—a minute? an hour? your grasp of time had faded—you can feel her toes clench softly against your face. More slowly this time. Firmer in their intent.
You pull back, your face warm as you glance up at her, your hands still gently cradling her feet.
You can see her staring back down at you, her face no longer hidden behind her hands. Instead, she meets your gaze, her face flushed. Her chest rising and falling with exertion. Exhaustion. Embarrassment.
Slowly, you see her shake her head, her soft feet tensing in your hands.
“...your…um...”
The nymph’s voice trails off, her eyes tracing down your chest. You follow them, your own cheeks growing warmer as they meet with the painful sight of your arousal straining beneath your pants.
Glancing up, you can see her mirror your embarrassed expression, sliding back on the cushion beneath her. You can feel her feet slip back out from your grasp, her toes briefly hooking against your fingers before coming to rest on the bench beneath her once again.
You stare back up at her as she meets your gaze.
Slowly, she parts her legs, sliding one of them forward. You watch her toes dip over the side of the bench, gripping it for a moment, the pink pads briefly turning white.
The rain continues to fall outside. Shadows dance across the room as more distant lightning flashes. You can hear the sound of rain dripping somewhere in the room, finding its way inside from somewhere in the cottage’s roof.
Your breaths continue to answer each other amid the quiet. There’s another pause—a longer one—before the nymph continues, her toes slipping off the edge of the bench.
You watch as she dips her foot dips down toward the ground, forming a graceful point with her calf.
Her foot hesitates as it draws close to your lap, her toes lifting back upwards, flashing their pink undersides in your direction. They hover an inch away from your restrained arousal. Hesitant. Careful. Nervous.
You swallow, nodding back up to her.
Meeting your gaze, she nods back.
Slowly, you watch as she closes the gap. You feel the tips of her toes brush against the underside of your length beneath the fabric.
You exhale sharply.
The nymph’s foot swiftly draws back at the sudden noise. Glancing up, you can see her eyes widen, concern breaking over her face again.
You shake your head. She nods.
Her toes descend again, pressing gently against you—each, soft pad discernable, even beneath the fabric. You feel yourself twitch, clenching your jaw at the sensation of your length being pressed against your waist.
The nymph’s toes curl back in surprise, the underside of your length shifting back up to find itself pressed—partially enveloped—by the sole of her foot.
You grunt, audibly, as the nymph’s toes clench back down a moment later, tracing more small lines against you.
You exhale. Slowly.
The ache in your chest, and your lap, is almost painful now. You can feel yourself growing dizzy.
Your eyes meet with the nymph’s again. You can feel the tightness in your jaw. Sense the need in your own expression.
She nods back at you behind flushed cheeks.
You watch her draw her foot back, her toes trailing up awkwardly toward you waist. They pause at the edge of the fabric, the cool pads of her toes brushing against your lower stomach before pulling back, unsure.
Swallowing, you reach down, undoing the clasp of your belt and sliding your trousers down your legs, off onto the floor. Her foot pulls back, toes tracing the air—waiting awkwardly.
A moment later, there’s a sudden sensation of freedom. Cool air where cool air seldom reached when you weren’t alone.
You watch the nymph draw her foot back, her eyes going wide as she glances downward. At her foot. At the arousal rising in your lap.
You can hear your breath, her breath, the two escaping in concert.
Slowly, you watch the nymph shift, her other foot sliding forward over the edge of the bench. You see it dip forward in the dim light—as if sliding into a silver pool.
Your eyes follow it. You watch her toes nervously trace down the length of her calf and ankle, picking at the braided anklet there before sliding down to the floor. You watch her fidget with her toes—flashing you brief glances of their undersides as she hooks her big toes around one another.
You swallow again. There’s another silence.
You glance back up into the nymph’s eyes. She’s averted her gaze from yours, though, a redness in her cheeks as her gaze remains locked on her own feet. You can see her eyes shift intermittently—toward the arousal in your lap—before quickly shifting back.
You can feel a faint sense of awkwardness as well—your naked dick twitching in the air before the exposed feet of the nymph before you.
The sight itself is ridiculous—almost obscene in a way. For you to have her doing something like this for you…
Despite the desperate ache inside you, you find yourself hesitating.
Maybe this was enough. Maybe you should stop here. Before...before there was no going back.
Up until now things had been...innocent. Teasing. Embarassing, but harmless.
Things might be a little awkward after everything that had happened, but if you went back now...there was still a chance that…
You glance back up as the nymph’s eyes meet yours for a moment. Sensing movement below, you glance down, your eyes widening at the sudden sensation of toes gingerly pressing against your inner thighs.
You immediately lean forward, the motion drawing another faint squeak of surprise from the nymph.
You blink as you realize you’ve reached forward to take her feet in your hands once more—gently cupping her heels in your palms. They’re cool to the touch. Smooth as well. Soft.
You can feel the nymph’s toes clench against your skin—pinching it slightly. It catches you off guard. It’s not enough to hurt, but enough to make you flinch.
You hear a sharp intake of breath from above. Meeting the nymph’s gaze, you can see a sudden look of worry on her face—her eyes glancing between your eyes and your lap. You can feel her start to slide her feet from your grasp.
You hold her heels in your gentle grip, shaking your head. You can feel a small smile creeping over your face, despite everything.
Her worried expression. Her flushed cheeks. Her eyes staring into yours between wisps of rose pink hair.
Despite all this—despite all she was going out of her way to do for you—she was still worried about trying not to hurt you, first and foremost.
You can feel a gentle warmth in your chest, despite the ache still present.
You can feel the nymph allows her legs to relax, her heels sliding back into the seats of your palms. You can see her glance down from your eyes and into your lap—her expression faintly hesitant.
Following her eyes, your own widen as you realize that your excitement had waned with your drifting thoughts—your arousal slowly deflating in the moment.
You can’t help but laugh. At the absurdity of it all. At the innocent worry still resting in the nymph’s eyes.
You look back up to her and smile. You can see a brief look of confusion cross her face before, slowly, she smiles back, the tension in her shoulders easing somewhat. You can slowly feel her toes come to rest once again on your inner thighs, the cool sensation of her skin on yours eliciting a new bob of vitality from your member.
You close your eyes for a moment, feeling a blush wash over your cheeks. You’d forgotten how ridiculous you must look, sitting at her feet, getting hard as her touch grew closer.
Your eyes open once again as you feel the nymph’s toes slide forward, tracing along both sides of your inner thigh. Both are angled inwards, the smooth pads gliding across your skin. They stop just shy of reaching you—clenching and unclenching nervously. Your arousal twitches again at the proximity, your brief lapse all but forgotten at this point.
There’s another faint flash in the window. Another rumble in the distance. The sound of falling rain. The nymph’s eyes and yours meet once more.
The ache has returned. In your chest. In your lap.
You inhale slowly. Exhale. You can see her watching you.
Slowly, her eyes drift downward.
Yours follow.
You watch as the nymph lifts her toes into the air on either side of your dick, splaying them hesitantly as you catch more flashes of the underside of her feet.
You swallow. You can still see their faint imprint of dust on their undersides. The softness of her soles. The gentle curves of her arches.
Your hands slide up from her heels to her ankles, brushing past her braided anklets with your wrists. You trace her smooth calves up partway, gently holding your hands in place.
The nymph’s toes hover on either side of you for a few moments, still splayed, your dick twitching between them. You can see the nymph’s uncertainty in their movements, gingerly moving inwards with care and caution. You can feel her calves tilt outward against your palms, the undersides of her soles and toes once again exposed in the dim light.
Her toes clench and unclench. You watch as they draw close.
An inch. A half inch. A hair’s breadth—
Your eyes widen.
“S-shit.”
Cool. Smooth. Soft. The touch of skin on skin.
The nymph’s touch against your clothing had been one thing, but this—
You inhale. For some reason, breathing is suddenly difficult.
You can feel each of her toes pressing up against each side of your shaft, the tiny, cool pads pressing against your skin. The feeling is electric—the sensation at once dainty, exhilarating, and degenerate.
Her toes—small, cute—grabbing at either side of your cock.
It’s wrong. Obscene. Incredible.
You close your eyes, leaning forward as your palms travel another couple inches up the nymph’s calves. You can hear her squeak in response, her legs tensing slightly.
You raise your head back up. Meet her eyes.
The uncertainty is still there. She looks to you for reassurance. Still worried, even now.
You shake your head. You can see her tense shoulders drop again.
“It doesn’t...hurt?”
You shake your head again.
“Should I...move...them?”
You can feel something in your chest throb. An ache. Her mannerisms. Everything about her.
You can feel something in your lap throb as well.
You inhale. Swallow. Nod.
“Please.”
You watch her nod back, blushing, her chest rising and falling as she takes another breath.
Her legs shift. You cup her smooth calves in your palms. Take a breath.
The nymph’s toes slide forward, gently gripping at either side of your cock.
“Nnnhn…”
Tightness. Resistance. You don’t even have words this time.
The nymph’s toes wrapping around your member, you feel yourself pulse in her grasp. You can feel her clench inadvertently before relaxing, her grip briefly shifting along your shaft with the motion.
You clench your teeth, your head drifting back forward. Your gentle grip on her calves tightens faintly. You can feel the edges of her toes pressing against your base.
It was unreal. The sensation. Her toes gripping your cock.
Even just sitting here, like this, you were—
Your eyes widen as you feel the nymph’s grip slowly start to rise, her toes sliding up the length of your shaft. They rise up just shy of the head of your cock before sliding back down to your base.
A jolt runs down your spine. You clench your teeth.
After all this buildup, the sensation of the nymph working your cock with her feet is all you can make sense of.
“Nnnh.”
You feel yourself twitch in her grip.
Sighing, you lean further forward, your forehead pressing against her knees. There’s a sudden squeak above you as you feel her legs part in surprise, your own eyes widening as your head comes to rest against the inside of her thighs.
You can feel her calves shift in your hands, your grasp tightening inadvertently when her grip on your shaft starts to loosen.
There’s an awkward moment of silence, the two of you too embarrassed to speak. The nymph’s thighs—cool and smooth against your cheeks—are tense. You can feel her eyes staring down at you from above. Feel the awkward hesitance in the grip of her toes on your cock.
You close your eyes. Inhale. Exhale. You can feel her thighs tighten on either side of you as the air rushes from your lips.
Your slide your hands further up along the nymph’s calves, tracing their smooth contours with your palm. Slowly, you tilt your head forward in her lap, resting its full weight there.
The quiet patter of rain hangs in the air as the two of you rest there for a moment. Breathing heavy. Breathing in unison.
After a moment, you can feel the nymph shift above you, the gentle sensation of her fingers coming to rest on your head. She brushes your hair back softly, resting her palm against you.
Your eyes tighten as she starts to move again—her thighs shifting against your face, her calves in your hands—her toes starting to stroke up and down your length once more.
She settles into a rhythm, her toes gripping you snugly on either side as she works up and down your shaft. You can feel her brush up against the head of your cock before pressing back down, the small pads pressing into your base before working up again.
Her fingers gently run through your hair at the same time, stuttering every so often as you exhale between her legs. You can feel her cool skin growing more and more flushed against your face. Feel small beads of sweat along the inside of her thighs.
Your pounding heart catches in your throat.
This nymph.
Your eyes widen as you feel the nymph’s grip slide up onto your cockhead, the shape of each toe catching and tracing along its underside on the way up. Your shoulders tense as you feel her grip tighten as her toes come together before she presses back downward, the head of your cock popping back out between them.
You grit your teeth. Exhale sharply. You hear the nymph do the same above you, her fingers suddenly gripping at your hair. You can feel her thighs shift—her calves, her feet—her toes still gripping on either side of your shaft.
She does it again. Her toes sliding up to your cockhead. Coming together. Gripping tightly. Pressing down. Pop.
Toes. Gripping. Pressing. Pop.
You can feel your breathing growing faster. Hers as well.
There’s a sudden sense of urgency. Tension. Tightness in your neck and jaw.
Toes. Gripping. Pressing. Pop.
Constriction around your cockhead. Her toes working their way up and down your shaft.
The hesitation seems to be fading from the nymph’s movements. Her strokes growing firmer. Faster.
Her toes grip at your cockhead with intensity. Press down more firmly against your base. Slide back up to your head before you can even take a breath.
She’s jacking you off now. Wholly. Fully. You can feel yourself getting close.
Your mind starts to race. It’s hard to focus. The sound of the nymph’s breathing and your own. The growing tension in her thighs. The growing intensity of the grip of her toes on your cock.
You can feel the furnace in your chest growing hotter—your teeth grinding together in your clenched jaw.
It was more than enough...but at the same time...it wasn’t.
A chain in your chest pulls taut. Tugging you forward. Lifting you from the edge of mattress at her feet.
The intensity coming to a head, you suddenly rise from the cot, the nymph letting out another squeak at the sudden movement. The grip of her toes on your cockhead immediately disappears, only fueling the sense of urgency in your chest.
Still holding the nymph’s calves in your hands, you climb up onto the bench, sliding her sideways as you kneel down on the cushions. Your heart thunders in your chest as you lean forward—one hand gripping the back of the bench—your knees pressing up against the undersides of her thighs as her head comes to rest on the pillow leaning up against the armrest. Her legs, bent, rest against either side of your waist, her slender calves gripping against you as her eyes widen.
You can see her flushed face staring up at you, one eye still obscured by her hair. You can see the swell of her breasts rising and falling beneath her camisole her hands pressed together over her mouth and nose.
Your eyes widen as you come back to your senses.
What were you doing—suddenly forcing her down like that? Were you trying to scare her?
You shift back onto your haunches, your palm trailing across the backrest as the other comes up to rest against your face.
What were you even doing anymore? Were you that desperate for release that you’d—
You stop as you feel a hand grab your forearm. You look down, the nymph’s thin fingers gripping your arm just above the wrist. You can see them slide back as you stare, pinching at your sleeve.
Your eyes slowly drift up to the nymph’s face. You can see her sitting up on the bench, her other hand steadying itself against the backrest like yours. She stares up at you—still breathing slowly—her eyes not wavering from yours.
You can feel her shift as your eyes make contact, her fingers tugging gently at your sleeve.
Slowly, you lean back forward, the nymph lowering herself back onto the pillow. You can see a bead of sweat trickle down her chest between her breasts, disappearing beneath her shirt.
The air between you two is hot with your echoing breaths. Humid. Hazy. A stark contrast to the cool air of the room around you. The cold rain and wind outside.
You lean further forward, placing your free hand on the cushion at the nymph’s shoulder. You can feel her flushed skin against the inside of your arm. Her face grows nearer—filling your vision—your eyes unable to leave the sparkling blue pools of light staring back at you.
Her hand reaches up, wrapping around your forearm again, gripping gently. The two of you hold there for another long beat—two beats, three—your senses numb to everything but the sight of her staring up at you.
Slowly, you can see her eyes drift down from yours, staring down at the space between the two of you. Your eyes follow as well, trailing down her neck. Her chest. Her stomach. Her waist.
You can see your thighs pressed up against the underside of hers from beneath, your arousal still bobbing a few inches from her lower abdomen. Hot. Twitching. Pained.
You can sense a heat rolling off of the nymph as well. Between her parted thighs.
You swallow, your eyes slowly trailing back up the length of the nymph’s figure, meeting her gaze once more.
It’s difficult to speak. To control your breathing. You feel like you’re in a haze.
“Should I… Should we...”
You stop as you feel the nymph shift beneath you, her legs sliding back from around your waist. You can feel her calves—her ankles, the sides of her feet—slide against you as she bends her legs outward.
You can feel the sensation of cool skin against your abdomen as she slides her feet up under you shirt, her soles and toes pressing against your skin. Slowly—and somewhat awkwardly, given the angle—you can slowly feel her slide them downward, bringing them to rest against your inner thighs. Her toes clenching. Unclenching. Your arousal bobbing again between them.
You look back into the nymph’s eyes as she stares back at you. Waiting. Watching. Asking you if this was still what you wanted.
Your chest tightens again. You swallow. Nod.
You can feel the nymph’s feet slide inward again. Feel her toes brush up against your base. At this angle, though, you can feel her soles pressing up against you as well. Sliding upwards.
“Nnn...”
You grit your teeth, the soft soles of the nymph enveloping your cockhead on either side. The sensation sends a chill down your spine, the fire in your chest starting to rise once more.
The nymph’s blue-green eyes meet your own. You can see her part her lips—as if to speak—before replying with a small nod instead, her face still flushed red.
You nod in turn and begin to move slightly, the nymph’s feet moving in tandem.
You can feel your muscles tense, the new sensation almost overwhelming. The gentle undersides of the nymph’s feet are soft and smooth against your cockhead—her soles pressing together as they slide up and down your head and shaft.
You swallow, your arousal twitching beneath the nymph’s feet. The sense of envelopment is unlike anything you’d felt up until now—the soft undersides of her feet swallowing your member.
You glance up, a sudden warmth breaking across your cheeks as you meet the nymph’s eyes. You watch the blush on her own face deepen, her eyes wavering as if to look away before shifting back to yours.
Another surge lights in your chest. Another tug. The chain in your chest tugs more forcefully this time. More intensely.
Reaching down, you cup one hand around the nymph’s feet, bringing them tighter together around your cock. You can feel her feet twitch at the sudden contact before relaxing, her eyes shifting to your arousal before shifting a back.
She gives you a small nod.
You grit your teeth as you feel her shift, tightening the grip of her soles around your cock.
“Nnn...”
You grunt again, the heat in your chest rising at the sudden resistance. Palm still resting against the cushion above the nymph’s shoulder, you begin to shift forward, thrusting between the undersides of the her feet.
Grip. Warmth. Softness. Give.
You find your jaw tightening again. You can feel the nymph’s soft soles enveloping both sides of your cock completely—your head briefly poking out in between her gripping toes before being swallowed back in between thrusts. You can feel yourself picking up the pace, the nymph’s own movements growing more awkward as she tries to match your motions.
Your eyes shift upward. You can see the nymph’s blue-green eyes focused on the sight of your arousal appearing and disappearing between her soles, her breathing heavy as her cheeks continue to flush red.
You can feel your chest grow hot, the chain in your chest lurching forward as you feel your arms and legs tense as one. Sensing the shift in your movement, the nymph’s eyes lift upward to meet your own. A brief flash of confusion passes across her expression before it shifts to a look of realization, her eyes growing wider.
Another tingle runs down your neck. You begin to thrust harder, your cock slipping in and out between the undersides of her soles more quickly. You can feel a tightness rising in the base of your shaft. A sense of urgency rising in your chest.
The sensation of her soles wrapped around your cock. The sight of her toes gripping at your cockhead. The shifting sound of her cool skin enveloping yours.
You wouldn’t be able to last much longer.
You can feel your arm starting to give out, your elbow bending as you try to hold your stance. You can see the nymph’s eyes widen as you lean in closer, her blush deepening at the sudden proximity. The sensation of her soles around your cock shift as you find her toes gripping around your shaft and head, the rhythm of your thrusting and her movements coming together as one.
Your eyes lost in hers, you take everything in. Her sight. Her scent. The sound of her breath.
Your eyes widen. You can feel your cock twitch as her toe pads slide up and down your shaft, your cockhead slipping out between them before immediately getting pulled back in. You can see splotches forming at the edge of your vision, the burning sensation in your chest coming to a head.
You can see the nymph’s eyes meet yours.
You can see her cheeks flushed red.
There’s a brief look of understanding. Realization.
A nod.
The nymph’s soles slide up, the soft flesh swallowing your cockhead entirely.
“Shit!”
With a grunt, you pitch forward, your cock erupting between the nymph’s sandwiched soles. Burying your head against her shoulder, you can feel yourself unload between the them, filling the cleft between them with your cum. Thrusting forward, you can feel your cockhead slip out of the smooth crevice, the small pads of nymph’s toes clenching around it as you continue to release.
Another surge follows, and then another, the hot ropes of white spurting out thickly between her toes. You can hear the splurch of your cum squelching between her feet, her sucking soles continuing to milk you through orgasm.
You’re dimly aware of the nymph’s hand sliding up around your side, gingerly coming to rest against you back. You can feel her fingers press gently into your skin, the back of your neck tingling as the tension that had built in your shoulders slowly ebbs and fades.
Steeling yourself with a long, slow breath, you push back up with your arm, glancing down at the nymph beneath you.
Taking in her flushed features, you slowly watch her eyes drift downward, her cheeks turning bright red as they settle toward your middles. Your gaze following suit, you feel your own cheeks do the same.
You can see your dick hanging limply between the exposed undersides of the nymph’s feet, utterly spent. Her soft soles glisten with a thick glaze of your cum, thin lines of white running out between her toes as they drip down onto the cushions below. You can see another line of your essence spattered up the insides of her calves and across her exposed midriff—the wet splatters barely holding their form as her soft, slender stomach rises and falls beneath them.
Slowly, you lift your gaze, watching as the nymph continues to stare, her eyes wide. You can feel the sides of her feet and ankles slowly settle back against your thighs, the sound of your breathing and hers steadily growing quieter as the moments pass.
Eventually, she raises her eyes again, the two of you holding each others’ gaze. The patter of rain continues to fall outside, faint flashes of gray light flickering outside the window as distant thunder rumbles.
You can’t break your eyes away from hers, the two green-blue pools shimmering before you, even in the dim light.
The sudden quiet and still around you almost feels foreign, the intense heat and tension in your chest slowly giving way to a feeling of cool and calm. You can feel the fatigue in your limbs now, the muscles in your legs and arm wavering.
Your eyes slowly sliding shut, you lean forward, resting your head against the nymph’s shoulder, a faint breath of surprise escaping her lips at the movement.
You inhale. Exhale. Breathing in her scent. You can feel a hint of warmth return to your cheeks—embarrassment—the full realization of what had transpired hitting home.
You weren’t even sure what to say right now. Now that you’d broken her gaze, you weren’t sure you could pull back up to meet it again.
You take another breath. Another. You can feel the nymph’s breath pass gently beside your ear, her chest slowly rising and falling beneath you. The sound of rain in the background is even and constant—you can feel yourself drifting slowly toward drowsiness, the night and your exhaustion catching up to you.
Maybe it was time you returned to your cot. You’d imposed upon her long enough.
Your eyes open in as you feel the nymph’s hand slide up your back—hesitantly coming to rest on the back of your head. It takes you a moment to remember to breathe, the soft, awkward embrace unexpected. Eventually though, you can feel your eyes sliding shut again, the warmth in your cheeks fading as you feel a gentle sense of relaxation cascades across your neck and shoulders.
You close your eyes. Inhale. Exhale. Taking in the nymph’s gentle warmth. The cool air around you is welcoming. Her scent is comforting. You can feel her fingers begin to trace up and down the back of your neck—the gentle motions hesitant at first before finding their rhythm.
You sigh into the nymph’s shoulder, nodding in thanks as you allow yourself to relax in the moment. Listen to the sound of rain falling outside.
The storm wouldn't be clearing for some time.
Might as well enjoy the moment a little longer.
Author's Note
Discussion welcome. 
