Feet Molested, Pink Heels Stolen

This is a story of my wife's feet being fondled without consent at a party. Told in her words:

I was at a party one time, everyone was dressed up because it was Christmas, and I had some taupe colored light brown pantyhose covering my size 6 feet and legs. My toes were painted hot pink and I wore a pair of pink heels to match which I left at the door when I entered my friend's house.

I was alone at the party, and as the evening went on I was getting very drunk. I don't drink a lot, so by 1:00 in the morning I was very tired, and very out of it.

By this time, many people had left the party and gone home. There were six of us left, and we ended up sitting around the kitchen table. My friend and her husband were there, another couple, and a very good looking guy right across from me whose girlfriend left earlier with some people she knew because she had to work in the morning. He said he was having too much fun to leave, and she had no problem with him staying.

Unfortunately, what she didn't know was after she left this man was hitting on me, or should I say my perfect little feet.

He was everywhere I was. If I went to get a drink, he was there. If I sat on the sofa, he was sitting on the floor below me leaning up against the arm. He was a bit of a bore, so not my type at all, but he kept talking me up all night.

Once beside me on the couch, I could feel the large palm of his hand being placed over my toes on the floor. I was speaking to a woman next to me at the time, so didn't want to cause a commotion. He probably didn't realize it himself, I thought. But then I felt his fingers outlining each toe on my right foot, and finally gliding over all five toes at once. I lifted my toes and turned my foot away from him as he got up to grab another drink.

My feet are not even 8 inches long, and I have been told by several people that they are very pretty. Every girl likes a compliment, so I asked why they thought so. Apparently my toes don't descend at too great an angle, but in a perfect straight line, I have a high arch and my toe tips are round. The nails are deeply embedded and round nicely into the nail beds. These are things guys apparently like about pretty feet. That, and I keep them up too with lotion and plenty of bubble baths. No rough skin whatsoever.

So here I was at 1:00 in the kitchen, and we were all talking. He often had his legs stretched straight out under my chair. Before long his feet would be just barely touching my hosed toes, then he'd move them, and ever so slightly be pressed up under my pantyhose arches. My legs were crossed under my chair, and sometimes I would be talking or listening or laughing, and not paying much attention to my little feet.

If I crossed them in front of me, he would change positions and suddenly not be stretched out, but cross his legs until his shin found its way to my elevated foot. Meanwhile he'd be gently trying to press his giant man-feet over the top of mine.

As the evening wore on, and this game of cat and mouse continued very indiscreetly, I began to get extremely tired, and actually laid my head down on the table and closed my eyes. My friend told me that the two couples were going to change, and take a hot tub, and she'd make up a cot for me in the basement as soon as they were done.

So there I was, too tired to get in the hot tub, and nowhere to go. Of course my handsome friend across from me was going nowhere either, as he said he'd stay to keep me company until they all got back.

We talked a bit, and again I realized how I wasn't into this guy. Blah, blah, blah, he kept talking and talking to me. I was sitting up at this point trying to be polite despite how tired I was, but into his fourth or fifth story, I could take it no longer.

I excused myself for my rudeness, but had to lay my head on the table again, and rest my tired eyes. He said go ahead, and didn't miss a beat in his story.

My little nylon feet were crossed under my chair, my arms crossed over the table, and my head laid on top of them. I began to nod off, just as he was at it again. I felt his feet press against mine way under my chair. First ever so lightly, then more firmly.

I was really too tired to bother moving them, and began to nod off just as he hooked his toes behind my heels and began wiggling them around the back of my heels... drawing them forward, the silky stockings sliding easily over the hardwood floor as I fell fast asleep.

About 15 minutes later, I felt a bit uncomfortable. I didn't know where I was, but my legs felt elevated. There was some movement over my tiny feet.

Were those hands?

I started to become a little more conscious, and could tell that my feet were up on a chair. They were pressed up against something, but encased between... thighs!

Someone's thighs?

Fingers were roaming over the top of my toes, caressing them under the now wrinkled fabric of the pantyhose, which was very loose now.

Was I still dreaming?

My toes were being cupped in someone's hands, and then those same big hands were sliding over the nylon foot down the inside across the balls and arches, down to the tops of my heels.

As I was officially coming to, there was a pressing feeling. That's what woke me up! This annoying pressing.

My toes were pressing against something, something metal, something hard. It was against a zipper of some pants.

It was against his crotch?

His hands were on the tops of my toes, loving them and pressing them into his crotch; moving them both around in circles, and gyrating his erect penis against the bottoms of my stocking feet and toes!

Pressing, pressing, presssing, pressssssssing.

When I came to I pulled my feet back, and though he tried to hold on for a second, I pulled my chair back and ran into the bathroom. When I came out he was gone.

I went down to where my friends were hot-tubbing, but didn't mention anything. It seemed too unlikely, and I was so drunk, and so fast asleep.

Was I dreaming the whole thing? or hallucinating?

That night I slept alone on a cot in the friends' basement. After I slept it off, and got up in the morning to go home I noticed my hot pink high heels were missing. I had to wear a pair of my friend's shoes, which were probably two sizes too big for me.