Exposing hubby's ff friend

[philgill11]

My husband Phil has a single friend whom I hadn't met for several months. Phil had invited him over a couple of times but I was away once, and on a girls' night out the second time.

Finally Ralph came over when I was home. A nice fellow in his early 30s, a bit portly and a little on the short side - only a few inches taller than my own 5'4".

Now I must tell you that Phil has a fetish for my little size 6 feet. I am sure he notices other ladies' feet too if they are just right. Mostly he says he hates feet other than mine. I am never too sure if I believe him, but he does have specific tastes for tiny feet with round toe tips that descend across at a straight angle. He likes deep nail beds and adores my high arches. Typically, I keep my toes painted for him and soles soft and smooth, lotioning and pumicing daily.

As Phil and Ralph relaxed in the rec. room in the basement on either side of our sectional couch, drinking beer and watching a ball game, I came down with some hors d'oeuvres in the form of nachos and devilled eggs. They asked me to have a drink but I had some laundry I was in the middle of - but told them I would be back in a bit to enjoy a drink with them.

The boys were already getting pretty drunk by the next time I came downstairs again, with five or six beer cans sitting on the tables on either end of the sofa and the treats all but gone.

"Come sit down Honey," Phil requested, but I had already poured myself a drink to join them and lifted my glass showed them. I sat in the middle of the sectional and pulled my knees up with my feet on the edge of the couch - gin and tonic in hand.

I saw Ralph glancing at my pink painted toes.

"So you work with Phil?," I asked Ralph, already knowing the answer. His gaze never left my toes.

"Yes," Ralph said, finally looking up at me in a kind of nervous way, like he was afraid to talk to women.

"I saw you looking at my toes. Do you like them," I asked the friend.

"I guess," he said.

"Oh, sorry I just noticed you staring at them," I said. "I just finished painting and drying them. I think they look sexy."

"Nice for feet I guess," Ralph said.

As the chit chat continued, Phil moved over a little towards me and stretched out his large arm for me to snuggle inside. He rubbed my shoulder and tapped it on occasion, a little harder each time until I got the hint and stretched out my legs and feet in the direction of his friend.

I must mention at this time that Phil is always on the lookout for guys who might also have a foot fetish, and it turns him on thinking of another guy lusting after my feet.

With my soles now quite close to Ralph, we both noticed him looking down at them several times.

"Is there something on my feet," I asked him.

"Huh?, ah, no."

"I am sorry, I never even asked you if it would bother you if I put my feet up on the couch next to you," I said.

"It's no problem, I never even really notice women's feet," Ralph said.

"So you wouldn't enjoy yourself massaging Michelle's feet?," Phil questioned in disbelief. "Come on!"

"No not really," he slurred, the effects of the beer loosening up the friend.

"I don't believe you, Ralph," Phil blurted quite loudly.

"Honey..."

"What?," I turned and asked.

"Do you mind if Ralph gives you a little foot rub?"

"I couldn't," he said.

"Well if you don't notice pretty feet, it won't be a problem," Phil said.

I pointed the toes on my right foot towards the friend, tempting him to massage it.

Ralph looked at the little foot pointed towards him. I could see him scanning the wrinkles and pink nails. Finally he reached out and held it.

"Okay I will prove it," Ralph said. "You're sure you don't mind, Phil?"

He shook his head "no."

Ralph turned towards me, leaning against the arm of the couch. He bent his left leg and pulled it onto the sofa until his knee was against the back cushion - his crotch pointing towards me. I looked down at his crotch where there was no sign of excitement... yet.

Ralph was wearing tan cotton leisure pants and there did seem to be some tenting at the fly area the longer he held my foot, so I presumed he was lying about my feet.

As he touched the milky white tops of both of my little feet his fingers at my ankles, he inhaled in a choppy and rather loud way, his lips quivering uncontrollably.

His hands slowly and gently caressed the tops, gliding towards and finally cupping my toes.

Ralph's eyes were now closed, as he began what could only be described as more a fondling than massaging of my soles.

I could clearly see the hard-on under his pants fully formed now, and a little wet spot beginning to appear.

I looked over at Phil. He had crossed his left leg over his right knee so Ralph couldn't see him twitching his fingers across the shaft of his dick below his jeans as he intently watched his friend's hands caressing my petite feet.

"Honey if you want your soles massaged you will have to roll over, right Ralph?," Phil said in a shaky voice.

"Definitely," he said.

Ralph never let go of my feet as I turned over. Soles up, Ralph pulling at my ankles until my feet were in his lap.

I could feel my toes against the incredible hardness under his pants as he began pressing my feet on to his erection. I looked up at Phil but he was in a sort of dream-state watching his friend enjoying my feet.

A little freaked out at this point, by all the foot attention, I batted my feet on his lap and exclaimed that he was tickling my feet - which he wasn't.

"Sorry," Ralph said, in a sympathetic and guilty way, guiding my feet to his lap again.

"I should probably move the laundry anyhow," I said, pulling my feet off Ralph's longing lap and swinging them back onto the floor.

The disappointment on the two mens' faces was palpable.

I felt a bit sad ruining the boys' fun but at that time I just wasn't prepared for so much feet attention or maybe what would amount to a foot fetish threesome even.

"We should just tickle the living hell out of your feet for being a party-pooper," Phil said.

I could see Ralph look at Phil smiling, as though to say "are you serious?"

"Haaaaa Haaaaa!," I laughed, looking back at the two disappointed friends.

"I guess Ralph wasn't lying about the feet thing, Phil," I said. "Thanks for the foot rub, Ralph."

From that point in time Ralph came over virtually every week, looking at and sometimes touching my feet, but refused to admit he had a foot fetish.

But we knew... and continued to torment him.