The story so far:
"POEM-MASH: All Poets Welcome!" -> "your french manicure is my foot du jour"
I had been with many different types of people before, men and women, but no one was like him. I always thought that a soul mate was some title made up by the same person who wrote all those fairytales I hated. The stories with the happily ever after that made anyone, except the children listening, regurgitate in their mouth.
The only person who can tell me theirs only one person out there for everyone is the one person whom you can only talk to thru death, and healthy at the age of 29 I wasn’t going to be six feet under anytime soon. Any living being who told my there was only true love, Id thought, just had never participated in an orgy.
Everything was different after I met him. Life pre-him was exuberant filled with randomness, long nights, adventures, and experimentation. I didn’t need anyone, hell; I had had everyone, and could have anyone I wanted. The most long term thing in my life was the freezer burned fish sticks I had before I became a vegetarian. Other then that people came in and out of my life like the swiftness of a fast food restaurant, and I preferred it that way.
All About Anna was playing in the theatre when I met him for the first time. It was a foreign adult film that I had seen enough times to have come to know all of the different usher’s work schedules. Pedicures and porn were my cocaine, and I had already gotten my feet done earlier this week. Now I needed my other fix, and I was always the only female in the audience. Most the men there already knew me, and were complacent enough to masturbate in the aisles around me. I was known to lend a helping hand if I seen any limbs appetizing enough to catch my eye.
I have never been shy. So when my favorite part of the movie played, it was nothing new that the straps of my satin dress were down to my waist. My hands were caressing my breasts delicately, occasionally pulling my nipples, causing gratifying pain. Just as my fingers were tip-toeing down to my headquarters a new face sat next me.
He said nothing, and he didn’t need to. The look in his eyes told me everything I needed to know. His eyes, filled with a rainbow of browns and greens, were staring into my mind, and he was reading all of my deepest secrets and desires. I couldn’t explain it, even after searching Google and Web MD later at home, why I felt like he knew me and had known me in past’s lives.
He got up and moved one seat over and lifted the arm rest in between us, never detaching our eyes. Somehow, I knew what he wanted. He unzipped his pants and pulled out the most astonishing, mouthwatering, solid dick I’d ever seen in my life. I wanted to be touching it in anyway possible. He pulled my feet to his lap and unzipped the thigh-high leather Naughty Monkeys I was wearing, and revealed my freshly painted toes.
Seductivley, he put my toes into his mouth, and sucked each falangy sending chills up and down my body. He massaged my heels as he licked away at the big toe, and a soft moan rushed out of my mouth. The mysterious man, the porn playing in the background, the eyes that I felt on us, and the sensual pleasure he was giving to my feet caused me to orgasm less then ten minutes in. I threw my head back and used my boot to cover the groan of satisfaction that may have shut down the theatre if heard.
When I came back to reality, the man who’d made me cum faster then the rabbit I had gotten from the toy party was rubbing my foot up and down his shaft. Seeing the intense look of pleasure in his eyes, I took over, and even began to use both feet. One foot moved up and down making sure not to forget to rub me heels on his balls. The other foot caressed his penis, while my toes buffed his head. His breathing began to pick up pace as pre cum leaked out and lubed my feet, making it slippery all over. He stared at me the entire time with a look of desire that I had never seen. Then he looked at what I was doing, and he was so enwrapped in the ecstasy that he couldn’t close his mouth.
As I quickened the pace, I tighten the grip of my feet on his manhood. I had been a ballerina for five years, and my foot muscles were strong from the piques and pirouettes. I could tell he was trying to hold it in, but moments later he groaned


