Giantess World
Mitch wasn’t just scrutinizing a foot, but what instead seemed like a vast landscape, a place he very much wanted to lay himself down: inhale sharply, perhaps drag his tongue across the bountiful terrain, and thrust his hips a few times for good measure, since he was already hard as granite in his pajama boxers now. Never in his life had he ever looked upon or appreciated a single object as obsessively as this one, though Mitch could think of no more deserving sight to occupy his entire mind. He’d fallen into such a lovely trance with her foot, absolutely longing now to press his lips to the tender apex of the arch, if not fling his whole body onto the island of her sole, physics be damned, but the realization of exactly how dramatically aroused he’d become, despite the unknowns and eeriness of his imaginary nocturnal visitor, snapped him back to his prior in-the-moment breathlessness.
That was when the sheets at the end of the bed uniformly domed, exposing Mitch’s body under the covers to the void beyond, and allowing the nameless faceless perfect-footed intruder’s right sole to hug flush with her host’s inner leg and glide right into the opening of his underpants. In perfect dream-logic, the stupefied fetishist’s garment seemed to balloon along with the blankets, giving this foot-angel easy access to massage her toes first onto his scrotum, kneading the pads of her digits across his balls, then beginning at the base of his shaft, stroke upward until the entirety of his trembling erection was form-fittingly cupped to the contours of her warm, creamy, immaculately-pliant naked sole. The kind of electric jolt which traveled through Mitch then, of necessity and shock and sexual glee all at once, couldn’t be understood with any existing metric, so deep was his adoration for this singular sensation above all others he’d ever experienced in his life. Since he couldn’t spasm or even speak his gratitude, though, his pupils just fluttered, while on the inside, he moaned loudly enough that his bedroom invader would know the fullness of her effect on him.
“Maybe you’ve started to understand now,” she intoned. Her buttery sole shifted position by a fraction of an inch, but even that fleeting stroke alone was enough to make Mitch groan with desire in a completely different pitch, like his throbbing rod was a musical instrument she’d mastered from the first toe-tap. He’d thought he was horned up before, but she was pushing him into a new stratosphere of eroticism within ten seconds of stroking. There didn’t seem to be a single drop of lubricant drippily painted on her sole flesh for aid, nor any other substance to cut back the friction and maximize the euphoric slip-and-slide effect, but there may as well have been, for the dainty swoop of those constantly-refurrowing arch rimples sensitively activating the complete circumference of his gearshift. The question of how she accomplished this became even more important to Mitch than who she was.
Of course the lack of lube did mean, once she really got down to the business of sole-sawing, that there was a gentle tingle of a rug burn from that skin-to-skin effort, but this was broadly overshadowed by the much more robust mania of body-pulsing arousal the bedridden recipient was gyrating through right now. Again Mitch’s perception of space in the darkness became warped, since he could’ve sworn that the feeling of her warm-padded foot was expanding in congress with his stimulation, not just pushing down on his cock but his entire body at once like a second mattress, uniting with that invisible weight squeezing him tightly down to the sheets. Still he could no longer mind this claustrophobia in his own frozen body, while he was receiving the unquestioned-best sexual pleasure of his life.
“So very excited, and so very quickly. Something tells me you have been building up for a long while. Watching, believing, hungering. Saving yourself. Saving this for me,” the woman purred. Her foot was molesting him now with such flawless and hypnotic care, activating every nerve ending and making Mitch wish his mast could remain melded close with that silky, brain-melting sole sculpt indefinitely. Meanwhile its lovely opposite, still holding court on the guy’s chest, kept his drowsy gaze locked on as though he was drunkenly viewing the satiny smooth peach-white texture through a telescope from four inches off. “The first payment has come due, and I do not intend to leave without collecting. Christen my sole. Now.”
At last releasing his inhibitions, and regretful already that this dream would have to eventually end, Mitch cummed right on cue. This omnipotent shadow-woman treated him to just enough bodily agency then for a climactic jolt and an audible moan, as he lotioned her bare arch with a more exuberant payload than he’d ever delivered in his life. Though this was no surprise, since the exponential pleasure of this whole mysterious and vaguely-frightening affair had officially blown every other prior sexual experience out of the water. As the aftermath coiled about him in heat and goose bumps, the only dent in Mitch’s ecstasy was the grief he felt momentarily at the thought of never having a dream this good again. What if the rest of his life passed by and he never equaled that orgasm? Sure, he could awaken and touch himself to the fuzzy memory of this eerie footjobbing rendezvous for years to come, and surely would, but that would still never match up to the glory of living it out now, mesmerized by the plush underside details on a planetary scale of one ped, while the other cushily pedaled his dick to the kind of completion he’d been waiting for his entire foot-adoring life.
When the final drop of seed had been lapped away and collected via the delicate swipe of her perfectly-moisturized wrinkles, the woman at last seemed to draw back into the dark, taking both soles with her this time. Not uttering a word, she vacated his boxers and stole away the lovely work of art perched before his face. Mitch wanted to cry out and beg her to stay, even grab onto her ankle and never let go as her heel massaged down his body to depart. Unfortunately she’d fully re-paralyzed him, and so all the helpless creature could do was forlornly squint into the spacious void of his bedroom, but fail to pick out a silhouette to follow. His eyes welled with regretful tears and his manhood was even attempting to stand back at attention under the covers, like a white flag of surrender, but she’d already slipped out of sight. Over several elongated seconds, the intangible mass pinning down Mitch’s body relinquished too, until it was only him again, breathing heavily and verging on tears in solitude, or at least he thought so, until that flinty murmur returned at its loudest:
“Keep yourself pure. Hope, but do not consummate. You are in debt to me now, and when the next payment comes due, I will expect the same devotion. Though I do not think such a task will trouble you. Rest well now.”
Mitch heard a distant rushing of wind, like howling through shutters, and then it all came to deafening nothingness again, and he was left panting in the sheets, still marveling with the vividly tactile sensations visited across his whole body. He was bewildered, exhausted, and still a bit scared, but nonetheless couldn’t keep a broad grin off his face. What an imagination he’d been blessed with.