The Fall of a dad

When I was in high school, I worked in a kindergarten for I while, as a temp during holidays. It was a nice place in the outskirts of my home town near the woods, ponds and some foothills. It was something in between rural and suburbian

Not being a regular employee at the kindergarten meant that I was also allowed to babysit privately for the parents of the kids in the kindergarten. I did that for a number of families whose kids where nice and whom I liked. It gave me the opportunity to put aside some extra savings.

I kept babysitting for some of them even after I left the Kindergarten job and went to college close by. It was easy money, pretty flexible and nice to keep in touch with the kids and their parents and my hometown community.

One couple in particular I had a very good relationship with and I very much enjoyed babysitting for them. They were actually some of the first I babysitted for and also the longest as I continued babysitting for them also in college.

They were 40-ish at the time and lived in a nice, big house with a view down over a small stream right by the edge of the woods. They were very friendly and paid generously and their two kids were very sweet and well-behaved. They always planned so long in advance that I could always manage to babysit when they asked.

The mother was nice and bubbling, always asked about my life, school, family and whatnot. She was a tall ginger, pale with lots of freckles, just like me. The father was also very nice, although more reserved and serious. Where his wife seemed not to have a care in the world, he would regularly worry about the state of western democracy, declining young adult proficiencies in sciences or this or that armed conflict or civil war around the world. I had the impression he found me and my anecdotes a little bit silly.

He was a "modern" husband and shared in lifting the mental load. Not a given back then. It was easily as often him as his wife to make the practical arrangements with me etc.

I must admit that I sort of developed a secret crush on the dad after I went to college. College guys, it turned out, were not really more mature than high school boys. And I found out I had a thing for real men. Those with beards and gray sprinkling at the temples and strong and hairy arms and legs. Just like him.

I also noticed that he had a foot fetish of some sort.

Every time when I babysat for them, I was in my comfy clothes. I am a quite tall girl, but still with curves. I never had complaints about the size of my frontend or backend, but I usually preferred to wear loose clothes that didn't reveal anything. I usually wore just leggings or sweatpants and a large sweater or hoodie that hung down almost mid-thigh. After I had tucked in the kids, I would usually sit in their living room sofa and watch tv. I usually would have taken of my socks, put them in my pocket, and curled up my legs below me.

When the parents would return and I would get up to greet them in the door to the living room, the dad always seemed to have his eyes drawn to my naked white feet.

Surprisingly, I don't think the wife knew about his fetish, or I'm sure his wife would have easily recognised his oogling. It was sweet. And gradually of course more than a little bit exciting.

Inevitable, I began to feed his fetish a little. In all innosense of course at that point. I began painting my toe nails in bright colors. This seemed to draw his eyes even more. Sometimes, I also wore an occassional toe ring or a gold chain around my ancle. That made him positively distracted.

Once, I left my small white socklets in their sofa, and they never returned them, which I assumed they would have done, had the wife found them. I wondered what he did with those. Of course nothing further came of it. I must admit that more than once in a while, he was on my own mind when I lay in bed with my favorite toy.

At some point, however, sadly, they divorced. The husband stayed in the house and the wife moved somewhere close and they shared the kids equally.

I kept on babysitting for the two of them the next couple of years. Naturally, I didn't take me long before I thought about acting on my feelings with the dad. Eventually, I decided not to resist anymore.

I started out slowly. Our conversations when he got home after I had put the kids to bed had already gotten longer. I did indulge him in discussing the sorry state of the world, which I admit, grew on me. He also indulged me by letting me talk about the more mundane things about female college life.

I began staying put in the sofa as he also sat down to talk about his day and whatever he had been doing that made him need me to babysit. I think he had few others to talk to, after the divorce. Sometimes we had something to drink and we could easily spend an hour chatting in the sofa before I left.

Of course, I always made sure to show off my naked feet while we talked. Sometimes I stretched my feet and toes, sometimes I rubbed them seemingly absentmindedly with my hands, massaging each individual toe, all the while observing him. I noticed how his eyes always wandered and how his train of reasoning became distracted when I did this. I also accidentally brushed my feet against his legs once or twice, at which times he almost froze.

Anyway, I was of course very informed of the family calendar, and on when the kids were with their mom. So I decided to drop by the dad's house a Friday evening in the early summer, when I knew he was home, and the kids were away on some trip with their mom to her parents or something.

I had made sure to take good care of my feet and nails in the preceeding weeks and months. I had a nice long pedicure the same morning at the local mall. And had my toe nails painted beautifully. White polish of course. I was very excited in the salon, and they asked if I was going on a date, and I just smiled and beamed tellingly. To be honest, I hadn't dated in two years at that point and hadn't been intimate since then. I was, to say the least, needing.

I bought some new sandals with flat heels, the kinds with thin, goldish, almost string-like straps. There was a young shoe store salesman, who I also think enjoyed an eyefull of my beautifully pedicured feet.

And I treated myself to a new gold toe ring for the one middle toe. I was almost as excited as I imagined he would be, as I tried on the different types and sizes of rings.

I dressed up with new sexy dark green underwear that went well with my pale white skin. And this time I wore a bright and colorful summer dress rather than the usual comfy clothes. The kind that flows around you as you walk.

I went over at his house at seven in the evening and knocked. When he answered the door he was visibly confused, perhaps thinking he forgot he had hired me to babysit. I made sure to present myself properly in the doorway so that he saw my outfit. The sun was setting behind me, and I imagine that I shone like some kind of revelation. I didn't have to make sure he saw my new sandals and white nail polish. His eyes went there immediately.

I told him I was going out with some friends and meeting up with them nearby, but that I was early and had the time to swing by to see if I had forgotten some socks last time I was around?

He welcomed me inside, with slightly reddening cheeks, and offered me to sit in the sofa. Did I want a drink it being Friday and I was soon off to a party? As he knew I had turned 21 recently he joked that he wouldn't be checking my ID. If I would have had one objection, it was that his jokes were mostly lame.

I kicked off my one sandal and sat in the sofa, the one barefoot leg folded in under me and the other with a sandal still dangling from my toes. He served us some wine and sat. Visibly warm. We talked as usual.

I made sure to make some thoughtful pauses to look at my own dangling sandal. When I checked, his look was completely lost in the same view.

"So do you have a thing for feet?", I asked him looking dead in his eyes, so he couldn't tell if I was angry with it.

He swallowed and mumbled why I asked that.

I smiled at him and then began dangling the sandal even more, until - pouff - it fell to the floor. He swallowed audible again.

I lifted my leg up and folded out the other and pointed both feet towards him where he sat in the other end of the sofa. He was completely frozen and absorbed in looking at the white nail polish, the toe ring and the white skin of my slender pedicured feet.

"Let me guess: you haven't revealed this fetish of yours to anyone before?" I said as I inched slowly closer to him on the sofa. Now my toes reached his outer thigh.

I now clearly saw a bulge in his pants. He was wearing old jeans. Evidently a comfort clothing of his own. He didn't move at all.

"I think you found my socks years ago," I whispered. "Here in this sofa." I lifted up one foot to caress the front of his pants. "What did you do with them?", I teased. It was as if it jolted a bit behind the fly.

I kept on caressing his growing bulge. I started imagining how his cock would look like. It seemed big and hard from outside. I rose to my knees and leaned in over him and kissed him. He tasted good. Salty, dark and this mineral tinge of wine. I placed my hand on his pants front. He clearly kissed me back, but otherwise didn't move. This was promising.

I sat back again and raised my left foot, the one with the toe ring, towards his face and extended my toes to touch his lips. He received them eagerly with his tongue and lips. He kissed all toes as I presented each one to his mouth. The white polish almost glowed.

He gave the toe with the gold ring much attention. His tongue turned the ring slowly full circle. It was so very sensual. This went on and on, and he still didn't move or speak or even look at me. He just kept on licking and sucking my toes over and over as in a trance. My feet were positively buzzing with pent up sexual electricity.

I swapped one foot for the other and he went at it again with as much vigour as before. It was making me wet. I edged off my green panties, while still holding my right foot at his face. I managed to free them from my left leg and could now run them up along my right leg. I reached for his right hand and made him grab the panties and slide them the last distance along my leg right up to his face.

I imagine my scent must have been overwhelming, and I'm sure he almost came in his pants then and there. He was clearly breathing through my panties while still licking and sucking my toes.

I removed my foot and let him hold my panties to his face like a breathing mask. I rose up, leaned in over him, took the panties and grabbed and led his hands towards his back. He obliged. He was completely dominated. What a change.

Behind his back, I put his one wrist in the one leg opening of my panties. Then I twisted the panties tight and pushed his other hand in the other opening as a sort of handcuffs. Now he was even more vulnerable than before. His eyes were closed. I half-kneeled to the floor in front of him and laid my hands across his chest to feel him up through his shirt. I slowly unbuttoned it from the top. He had nothing underneath and I let my hands caress his hairy chest. A mixture of muscles and a hint of dad bod flab. This was a man unlike those smooth baby-ish college and high school boys. He was warm as a vulcano.

I slowly opened his belt and fly. His cock made a tent in his black boxers, and I released it by lifting the elastic band. Oh my. There it was. The most sexy cock I had ever seen in my life at that point almost sprang up in my face. It was thick and dark-skinned and hairy at the base. It was pointing upwards. It was uncircumcised, as I loved it, but his hard erection had already forced back his foreskin almost entirely baring his purplish cock-head. The head was wet with pre-cum.

I pulled his pants down to his ancles as he lifted up a bit. Now his ancles were tied together by his pants and boxers. I now saw his balls. They were also delicious - large, round, heavy, hairy and hanging low. And slightly moist from his sweat. I resisted touching his cock, but I moved my face very slowly towards it and made sure he felt my breathing on his exposed glans, shaft and balls.

I got up on my feet and went to grab my phone from my purse and returned. He squirmed and was about to protest, when I simply shushed him.

"I am gonna snap some photos to remember, and you will be happy to let me," I said.

Now I brought over a chair from the dining table and sat before him again. I made sure his entire length was in the frame and clicked away. It did not cool him off at all but the opposite. His cock almost pulsed and his foreskin slipped the last bit under its head, without any help. He still had his arms behind him and I resisted touching him for now.

I then put a foot on each side of his cock, resting soles flat on his skin. I inched them closer to his cock and pressed a little against him so that his cock stood out and up even more. He sighed.

I snapped some more photos. My beautiful feet now framed his beautiful cock, still pressing slightly against him. My arches set around the base of his throbbing manhood and my toes spread put next to his shaft on each side. His cock was like a dark tree trunk stretching upwards and outwards and filling my view completely. God, this was hot. It felt like my juices trickled down my inner thighs as gentle forrest stream.

I began caressing his thick cock with my toes. It was difficult to stretch them enough apart to grib it between them. I put my one foot below his balls and caressed them from below. With the other foot, I began to stroke up and down his long shaft. As my pussy was, his cock was by now also wet with its own juices. I could easily and effortlessly move his foreskin up and down his glans, soaked as it was in its precum.

I used my foot to gently pull down his cock in a more horizontal position and bobbed it a bit around. For ages I teased his grotesquely big and beautiful cock with my pale, freckled feet until I decided it was enough.

I bent over, stretched my tongue out and licked his tip. His taste was as his kiss - salty and dark. I decided to replicate the taste of his kiss even more and reached for my half empty glass of wine. It was room temperature by now. I gently tipped the glass at the top of his cock and let the wine drip down his length. The wine was still cooler than the temperature of his cock and he winced.

I put down the wine glass again and bent over his cock and took him in between my parted lips. The wine taste mixed with the taste of his salty sweat and sweet precum. I only managed to take his glans fully into my mouth. I rested there, letting my tongue slowly and rhythmically circle his head. It was almost jaw-aching. I used my hands and fingers to caress his balls and shaft.

I reached for my phone and managed to take a selfie with my face next to his cock in my other hand, cheek pressed against his shaft, as if his large cock was a girlfriend I was posing with. Then I again took him in my mouth, closed my eyes and completely focused on pleasing him with the slow, rhythmic swirling of my tongue.

After a long while, I let go of his cock and his giant head left my mouth almost with a popping sound. He remained motionless and just looked at me with anticipation.

I pulled my dress over my head revealing myself only in my new lace bra. He seemed almost blinded by my freckled whiteness. But he definitely noticed my breasts barely contained inside the green fabric.

I stepped forward, put my knees on each side of him and pressed myself onto him, my bra and breasts directly in his face. His tree trunk cock pointed up at my back from behind my ass. I felt its heat and moisture. I stayed there, rubbing myself gently and slowly up and down him, mostly feeling his chest and black chest hairs on my white belly.

I reached back, undid my bra and let it fall into his face. My breasts were now freed and I let the bra fall to the side and I pushed my white flesh into his face. I edged a little back and let his tongue find my one nipple, with was small, red and very pointy by now. He slowly circled it with his tongue and I enjoyed it.

After a little while, I shifted to the other breast and nipple. I felt I was so hard that I could have cut his face or tongue with my deep red nipples. His cock wetted what felt like my entire back with his precum and juices. My own pussy kept dripping into his pubic hairs below me and, I imagined, seeping down over his testicles and onto the sofa below him.

I stood up on the sofa, both feet on each side of him. My pussy was now at level with his face, and I looked down to his eyes bulging as he observed my strip of red hair, my clit, which I felt like must have been engorged to the size of a peanut and. I still hovered an inch or so from his mouth, as I started fingering myself. Two fingers parting my lips, and one finger slowly circling my clit. It felt like I kept dripping on his face and chest. I felt he was now inhaling me deeply, the same scent as when his face was smothered in my panties.

After a while, I removed my hand and moved forward to let me pussy kiss his mouth. He eagerly licked me, hands still tied behind, so a little like a helpless kitten. We found a rythm where I slowly rocked back and forth as the waves on a beach and grinded my pussy lips ever more forcefully along his rough tongue while my clit rested briefly on his upper lip.

I then moved a little forward, pushed his head backwards and arched my back so that his face was now more directly under me. I rested one hand on the wall and with the other I pulled at my buttock opening access for him to lick my asshole. He eagerly went for it and I felt his warm wet tongue on my sensitive sphincter.

We found a new rythm, where I rotated and he circled in the other direction. Sometimes he would tense his tongue forming a little tip he could insert into my anus and I paused from my rotating and pushed back to let him penetrate me as far as possible.

I reached back for his pole. I gave it a few gentle strokes up and down. I then lifted myself up to position its beating head directly at my wet opening. He looked down to see the narrow well-kept strip of my reddish pubic hair pointing down towards my glistening pink opening. I gently gyrated my hips slightly around so that his cock head slipped around along my pussy lips, my clit and my opening. He moaned and tried to thrust a little upwards, but I lifted myself a little more in anticipation to keep it firmly circling my entrance only.

In the end, I couldn't take it any more. I slowly leaned back on his cock and slowly, slowly, slowly took in his endless, thick, hard, grown-man cock.

Here I was, realising a fantasy of several years. Slowly being split from below by this beautiful mature cock - longer and wider than I had ever before seen or felt. Deeper and deeper it went, and my pussy lips became more and more stretched so that it almost felt like I could take no more. But deeper and further it went until I finally rested on his lap. Never had I felt so full, so stretched. Never so satisfied. Never such a pressure on my pussy lips and clit from within. As if I was impaled by a tree I was also climbing.

I involuntarily clenched my vagina. I at once felt all his length deep within me, and then I came right there without even having ridden him. Stars and light flickered before my eyes as I orgasmed. The wetness below me from the two of us seemed to fill his lap, and in my mind, the whole room for me to swim and swim to a surface high above me.

When I came to myself and my mind had returned behind my eyes, I was still resting firmly on his lap, his thick cock still deep inside me. He was still more than hard and evidently had had no release from his torture. I don't know how long my orgasm had lasted and how long he had had to observe my climaxing on top of him at the first penetration. It felt like hours, but had probably taken only less than a full minute.