**Experimentation**

It was a quiet Sunday afternoon- the sun was shining brightly through the slight cloud coverage, shafts of light raining down on the myriad and varied buildings of the city of Atlanta. Grey pillars amongst the sea of blue sky, white clouds, and green trees, the slightest of smogs marring the picturesque (most of the smog had been blown off by yesterday's storm). 

The state's several thousands of church buildings were filled with harmoniously repentant people, all singing and some dancing, a few sitting quietly as their clergy droned on and on, some wondering, very concernedly, if their souls were doomed to this terrible fire that promised by the preachers and spoke of in holy writ. 

Others broke their fast at the equal several thousand chains of waffle restaurants, where fat and joyous cooks tossed eggs, burned toast, and slung waffles and coffee like it was going out of style. On the radio, soft tunes of ages gone by played and people sat and ate and ruminated and ate some more, pestered occasionally by a server who, in her words, is 'only keepin' it together, thank you Jesus,' and is the sweetest lady you're ever like to meet.

Others still, of a different sort, stay home and worship at their own altars of rest and relaxation- time for reflection. Two such are Darcy and Andrew- not particularly religious, no, but they, more so Darcy, believes in something of a divine, as is the wont of such in her millennial generation- cosmic karmic law, universal harmony, blends of Taoism and feel-good-ism. Whatever it might've been, it never really manifested to be something of a Sunday activity in Darcy's mind- no call to hajji, no building upon the rock. As most other millennials, theirs is a feel good do nothing God. 

Still. 

Sunday was a special day for them- time of intellectual pursuits and reinvigoration of the mind. While their actions certainly didn't fall into the category of religious dogma, they did follow the Abrahamic god's example of resting on the seventh. And, to be truthful (since y'all're bein' good god-fearin' Christians, bless your hearts), the intellectual pursuits we spoke of earlier truly just consist of books, magazines, outdoorsy activities, and, now getting less and less frequent since unemployment, Andrew's law journals. 

This time, Andrew, lying comfortably on a reclining Darcy's stomach, was sifting through a specially sized magazine labelled, and chuckling every time he thought about it, Tiny Times. 

What freshman marketing exec pumped that one out, he mused.

Tiny Times is what it sounded like- policy, politics, and human interest stories relevant to him. It was a print magazine, but those were fast becoming a rarity- his tablet, another recent purchase, was still charging. It passed as weird for him, seeing how it was a couple of months, to hold an actual collection of paper in his hands. He did prefer using a tablet, but... Well, the tactile sensation of paper on skin gave him a sense of normalcy. Almost comforting. 

High above him, the lights of Darcy's own tablet flickered softly as she browsed whatever website. He smiled, looking up at her face- her brow furrowed and her eyes squinted as she read, something Andrew found amusing. He wondered, briefly, what she was reading- not that it mattered, she always looked like that when she read- Andrew called it her 'reading murderface,' much to her chagrin. 

He set the magazine to his own stomach and closed his eyes. This was great. It'd been months since they'd started their relationship officially, and so far the move had felt right. The late spring and summer days had been filled with wonderful fun, pleasant memories, and very touching moments between the two. The nights, seemingly endless, were filled with love, the two bonding in a way they'd never felt before. 

He sighed, content. Perhaps it was just the honeymoon of their relationship- the novelty of it endearing them both. It certainly wouldn't be uncommon- he'd heard of and experienced it many times before in previous relationships. 

Then again, this was different, he felt. He couldn't recall feeling so at ease with someone- even in the quieter moments. They occasionally had their spats, as any lovers do, but he recalled always feeling more sad than angry when they did so- like he was sorrowful that such a conflict did take place. Andrew, a certified headstrong and stubborn asshole, often found himself wanting to change and make things better than be right. 

He wanted to be better, he realized, for her. That had to mean something, right? That the relationship wasn't just fluff and infatuation. A deep connection. 

He pondered that. He didn't have a crystal ball, but he wasn't an idiot- he'd been with very toxic girls before, and Darcy certainly wasn't one of them. He may not have been able to predict everything that could happen, but he certainly believed that they could work it out together.

He sighed again, just a little more contentedly this time, just a little more assured. 

He was nearly dozing off when a soft voice above him shook him out of it.

"Hey Drew."

He popped an eye open and gazed up at her. 

"Will you come up and read this?"

Flipping over, he arose and walked over closer to Darcy's neck, able to get a better vantage point.

"What am I looking at?" He asked, to which Darcy pointed at a small passage with her finger. 

Andrew read, mouthing the words as he did so- a terrible habit of his, he thought. Finally, he nodded his head.

"Well... Wow. That's something else." He turned his head over to face her. "Where did you find this?"

She blew air out of her nose, causing Andrew's hair to flip wildly about. When she spoke, a sonorous rumble shook beneath his feet, and he balanced himself.

"I found it after, well, browsing. You remember that stuff... What is it called, that giant woman thing, you know, that my friend was telling me about..." She bit her lip and cast her eyes to the side, trying to remember the word. Finally she snapped her finger and said, "macrophilia. Remember?"

Andrew rolled his eyes and nodded. 

"Oh yeah." He grimaced. "That shit sounds weird. Are you really reading it?"

She nodded, smiling. 

"Yeah. And, yes, it's a little weird but... That thing you read..." She blushed slightly. "Doesn't it sound interesting?"

He nodded, sitting back down and onto her neck. 

"I suppose. Why?" He looked up at her, cranking his head way up. "What did you have in mind?"

He felt her swallow, the lump passing through her throat as causing him to shift his seat slightly. 

"Well... Do you want to try it?"

He was quiet for a moment. Then, nodding, he simply said, "sure. I'm down." 

Darcy smiled, looking a little relieved. This did not go unnoticed by Andrew, who smiled back and asked,

"Ha, did it make you nervous, bringing it up?"

She blushed again, and nodded weakly. She then brought her thumb and forefinger close together, holding it just in front of one eye and closing the other. 

"Just a little."

**********************

"So, where to start, where, toooooo start."

A naked Darcy held a naked Andrew in her palm- the clothes had come off fairly quickly, and they lay now discarded in a pile near the couch on which Darcy sat longways. When she had first approached Andrew with the idea, she had been so nervous to suggest it that she hadn't put any thought into executing the task. Now, both of them committed to it, indecision had crept back into her like some unwanted bug infestation. 

The idea was simple enough- worship. Not in any serious sense of the word, nothing theistic or, well, she blushed, blasphemous, but fun. An extension, she hoped, of the pet and master relationship that had supplemented their sexual fun.

Thankfully, the little man in her hand had broken the silence with a suggestion. 

"On your breasts?"

Seemed like good as any, she thought. Smiling, she laid down lengthwise on the couch, and set him between her two cafe au lait mammaries, the warmth of anticipation emanating off them and flushing Andrew's face. 

Once set down, he stood up and looked around. How did one worship another person? He tried to think about any religion he may have been subject to as a kid. He remembered, very vaguely, a lot of standing up and sitting down. Also, he remembered, less pleasantly, a bland cracker and the worst goddamn fruit juice he ever had. 

But he didn't have any of those things right now. Maybe he could stand up and down on her. He doubted that he should.

Tentatively, he set his hands on one breast and he began to massage softly.  He heard, most satisfyingly, a quiet moan from above. He looked up, and found a very placid smile pass on Darcy's lips. 

"That feels wonderful... But won't you go lower, little man?"

"Lower, huh?" He grinned mischievously. "Such a demanding goddess."

She blushed, biting her lip, and smiling devilishly- something that indicated that she wasn't quite embarrassed. 

"Mmhmm. What can I say," she said, "I'm a goddess who knows what she wants..."

He chuckled, dragging a finger along her breast as he continued his journey down south, making her shiver. 

"Goddess," he muttered with a patient smile, relishing the feeling warming flesh underfoot. "The things I encourage."

She chuckled, causing to jump slightly on her tummy. 

"Goddess... Hmm, I like the sound of that..."

Past her waist line he arrived were a tuft of curly black sprouted like a rough carpet. It crowned Darcy's sex, the little bean erect and her mons swollen and waiting. The heady aroma of woman was in the air, and Andrew found himself intoxicated by the scent- something he had become so used to, but never lost the inherent excitement that came with it. 

Satisfied, he knelt down and reached over take hold of her clitoris, but a voice forbade it.

"Wait, no..." He looked back up at the woman's face, an eyebrow cocked. Her eyes were closed and a bead of sweat dotted her forehead. She flushed and bit her lip. "Keep going down... My feet..."

How odd, he thought. Usually Darcy was straight to it when it came to hankypank. Could she have something else in mind?

He obeyed, eager to please his love... His goddess. He walked down the smooth leg, grateful to not be wearing any socks, lest he slip. 

He arrived at the end, Darcy's foot raising high up into the air before him like some pillar of cuteness. A smooth skin gave way to five well-formed toes, each adorned with a healthy nail crowning, devoid of any polish (Darcy liked it that way, he remembered). The toes wiggled softly in the summer air, eagerly awaiting a tender touch. He wasn't a foot guy, but there was something to be admired in Darcy's feet, Andrew believed. She kept them well trimmed, clean, and scrubbed them daily with her peach wash, the smell even now wafting over and drifting lazily into his nostrils. Such actions kept the feet soft and smooth, something Andrew was now very grateful for, considering what may have been coming down the pipe for him. He took another step forward, intent on rubbing them, when the foot he was on suddenly flattened and set itself onto the couch armrest.

"Go ahead and hop off," came the command from above. 

Once off, the feet retracted and set themselves in the sides of the armrest. heels pressing into the side so as too present only the balls of her feet and her toes. Again, they wiggled softly in the air, swaying back and forth hypnotically. 

"Little man," came the quiet, almost embarrassed request, "will you rub my feet?" Then, with a chuckle, "the feet of your goddess?"

Andrew was nonplussed. A foot massage? Was that it? Surely it couldn't be that simple. It was nothing like in the passage they had read together. Was that all she really wanted?

"Are you sure?" He asked tentatively, looking past her big toe and up at her face. "Just a foot massage?"

She nodded, smiling softy. He noticed that a hand had snaked its way down to her crotch and now lay rest there, seemingly waiting.

"Just a foot massage," came the cloudy reply, the reply of someone who had just placed her finger on her clitoris. 

Andrew frowned- not malignantly, but just confused. 

"It doesn't seem like worship to me..." He offered. 

Darcy grinned and squinted her eyes.

"Well, my mom always told me that you can pray with both your lips and your hands..."

"Are you saying I should use my lips? Kiss your toes?" He asked with a wolfish grin on his face, which she returned right back to him.

"If my most devout desires so."

With that laugh hanging in the air, Andrew set to work, starting just below the big toe- seemed like good a good place as any. At his touch, it twitched slightly, the movement pushing him back just a bit.

"Is my goddess ticklish?" He teased, poking his head between her toes and looking up at her. She twitched her toes again just a little bit, closing softly the two digits and flexing her foot so he was an inch off the ground.  He wasn't hanging by his head, mind you- he had grabbed the insides of her toes and lifted himself up in addition. She grinned at him.

"Yes, she is," she called back, her finger brushing her sex only slightly, "and keep it up and you'll be toe jam, little devout!"

She set him back down and he continued his work, smiling all the while. It was a hollow threat, but more comforting than anything. Darcy had exercised so much caution prior to- she wouldn't stop now, he believed.

He kneaded, pulled, stretched, and occasionally kissed each toe, taking all the time he needed to make sure each got individual attention. Every once in a bit he would look up, and see her softly flicking her button, a placid, serene look resting on her face. She had closed her eyes, biting her lip and taking very deep breaths. 

She particularly loved being massaged between her toes, he found. Each push or pull elicited a soft moan or gasp, or a quickening of breath, her masturbation keeping in rhythm and time. Every other once in a while, his name would escape her lips in a warble- satisfying, in the deepest way imaginable. The kind of feeling you got when a close parking space opens up, when you take that first bite of your favorite ice cream, or when you delve deep into your pocket and find a twenty. 

He continued, relishing the work he was doing. At times, he felt almost like he was outside of himself, observing this man massage, impossibly, toes of a woman who was close thirty times his height. Was this really him? Was he caressing these perfect toes with love and care that he'd never expressed prior? It felt like it wasn't... And yet, it was. 

Darcy's breathing quickened once more, and she changed the rhythm of her strokes. Her clitoris was red and erect, her labia engorged and wet. Her fingers plunged deeply into her, and after a few second's twisting, she pulled them out with a soft pop. High above she bit her lip.

"Andrew," her voice lilted. He paused his work and looked between her toes toner face, reddened and blushing with fluster. Her eyes opened and she smiled down on him.

"Yes?"

"Call me... Call me your goddess... Will you?"

He smiled, slightly embarrassed by the request. To be playful and teasing about her divinity was one thing, but to actually ask it... That was something outside normal for him. A part of him knew she really didn't think herself a deity- she was posturing, playing the game. Even still, another part of him couldn't help but wonder, or rather... Couldn't help but comply. For all intents and purposes, she was his goddess. She provided for him, gave him comfort, was his support, and even loved him in a way that felt transcendent. Andrew was at best an agnostic, and had his doubt about any benevolent paternal (or maternal) force in the universe. Even so, with all that this woman did for him...

Why shouldn't he worship her? She had been the closest thing to a God as anything for him.

"Darcy," he began, letting his words spill out his mouth slowly like a drip, unfamiliar at the time, then continue onward, "you... Are my goddess." He whispered, the idea foreign but now becoming more comfortable. 

The goddess in question closed her eyes and smiled, pleased with her devout's confession of faith. She bit her lip, blushing slightly at the thought of what she would say next.

"Again," came the half-request, half-command. "Tell me again."

He took another breath, accepting his task. 

"Darcy, you are... My queen, my goddess." The words flowed out his mouth with surprising fluidity. "You are... My light. My pillar of fire. My way and life."

He continued his stroking, her toes responding to each minute lithe finger movement. His voice continued to drip in praise, as if the Pentecostal fire of old had taken hold of him. 

"You are my love, my reason. Every bit about you is magical. You enchant me, you protect me, you let me into you and your secret places..."

He continued to rub, running suddenly out of ideas of things to say. He... Wasn't very good at making this kind of stuff come out, but he tried his best. Instead of ending up saying something very stupid, he just decided on

"You are my goddess, Darcy!"

And that seemed to break the dam- an explosion and yelp suddenly erupted from Darcy's throat, a high pitched gasp that ripples through her and caused her to suddenly shudder in absolute ecstasy. 

He backed away from the now curling toes, removing his hands before they were caught in a grip he couldn't escape. He trotted over to see her face, her lips pressed together and suddenly being bitten, one hand massaging her breast in a squeeze and her other plunging her fingers deep into her engorged pussy, discharge splurting out between her fingers and the opening. 

His own erection, at best tepid during the massage, was now fully invested. He bit his own lip, missing that feeling, that very distinct pleasure of filling a woman up, making them curl their toes. He touched himself, softly, shuddering at the feeling. 

It wasn't too long before Darcy finished her climax, and was soon fluttering down down down from her cloud nine. Her face, however, kept its serene little smile. She opened her eyes and gazed at the little man staring at her between her toes. She wiggled them, making him smile and her giggle. 

"You should open a foot massage business- you do," she blew a stray hair from her face, "a damn good job!"

He smiled at her, and still looked at her between her toes- that fact, however, struck Darcy as odd. She moved her foot to the right slightly and looked at him. 

"Why don't you come out from behind my... Oh."

Rock hard, she found. All revved up and nowhere to go. She made a face, pouting her lips in a sad frown.

"My poor little devout," she cooed, "you worked so hard for your goddess and all you got back was blue... Well," she said, sitting up and leaning forward, "I can fix that..."

A wicked grin passed her face and she reached over for Andrew. He thought about dodging and trying to cause her to chase him, but he thought otherwise- it was too high and somehow he didn't think that he should make the girl whom he was technically worshiping frustrated.

A large but dexterous hand scooped him up and brought him to her face. She was licking her lips, and without any words, she opened her palm and licked him from toes to head, one long stroke. She kissed him, again, again, and then once more. Softly, with all the tenderness of a mother, she nuzzled him with her nose, pressing him into her hand. The pressure was nice on Andrew's body, the warmth radiating from her so comforting and loving. 

She held him back in front of her face once more, smiling at him and biting her lip. She arose from her seat on the couch, the remaining discharge from her soft and swollen labia flipping forward with her movement and dripping some down onto her toes, splatting inaudibly. It felt cool to the touch, and Darcy relished the feeling. 

I am a goddess to this little man in my hand, she thought to herself, feeling herself slip into the part very easily. I hold him here, and he his mine to do with whatever I please. I could have him rub me again, accompany me to the bath (hey, I've got to remember that one!), or have him feed me grapes like before when he was my little slave for the night. 

She tittered and shook with the realization. Literally anything. She could place him between her breasts, have him be a little passenger and have him massage her breasts for her as she went to work, have him paint her nails, have him spend all the night long inside of her...

But then another realization came- to indulge in her nerdy side, with great power came great responsibility. Sure, she could be a literal goddess and Queen to this man, to have him worship her at her toes, but remember- this was Andrew! A real human being. Her friend. Her lover. Her companion. Someone for whom she felt a deep and resounding affection for. She could never make this man her actual slave or elevate herself to a true goddess status. She wanted equality with this man. 

She wanted to be his goddess, yes... But she wanted to be HIS goddess, his own to have. A benevolent giantess. Someone he could count on, someone who provided and cared for him. Someone who served him. Someone to whom he could give his love and get love reciprocally. She wanted to love this man, and earn his love in return.

She arrived at the wall, still holding the tiny man in her hands. Carefully, after giving him a short kiss on the head, she squatted down (shivering after feeling the cool-conditioned air pass past and up her open southern lips), and set Andrew supine lengthwise in front of her. 

She continued to squat over him and she grinned, her hair draping over her eyes and casting long shadows over him.

"Do you love your goddess, Andrew?

He nodded.

"That's good, because she just looooooves her little worshipper~" She stroked a finger across his stomach, eliciting a soft moan from the tiny guy. Perfect. "And, as a reward for all your faithful service," she stood back up as graceful as her size would allow, "your goddess is going to give you some much needed release..."

"Ooooo," Matt cooed, half-mockingly, which Darcy returned with a protruding tongue. Standing back up to her full height and stretching, she was still boggled when she did this- how tiny he was! No bigger than her toes that wiggled and flanked on either side of him. It used to inspire something of a small anxiety in her, to know that one small misstep would splatter him like a grape, but now... It was something different. It inspired in her a fierce imperative to protect him, to keep him safe. It was at one part possessive, another part loving... Maybe she did feel something of a divine stewardship over him. 

He wiggled a bit, sitting up and cranking his head up to look at her. 

A grin passed her lips, and before she knew it, she half-barked at him.

"Did I say you could move?"

The phrase brought an uncertainty to the situation. They had been playing before, the divine and the devout, but an actual vocal command with that kind of tone... Well, they were crossing into uncharted lands. This was almost ownership, implicit if not explicit. 

The look that passed Andrew's face was at first a sort of shock, mild at most. But then, like the dawning sun, a smile crept on his lips. He inhaled and exhaled deeply- but not heavily. Reflectively, but not forlornly. He was interested, she realized- interested to see what was going to happen next, not upset or startled, and that set her heart at ease like no other. Again, she had been scared that she was overstepping her bounds, but his accepting reaction, something more frequent as of late, reassured her. 

Her lips curled into a soft little pout, a concerned head cocking to one side.

"Your goddess is very big, and she doesn't want to hurt you in the slightest," she half confessed. 

"Oh yeah," came the reply, "how so?" Then, placing a hand on his mouth, he asked "is talking allowed? Or rather," he coughed and cleared his throat, adopting a look of magnanimity or pomp, "doth my goddesseth permiteth her subjects to talketh?"

The chuckle and eye roll from above made him smile, glad he could still make this woman smile. She bit her lip then continued.

"Yeseth... Eth eth eth. I doth permiteth mineth eth eth..." She raspberried her tongue as she tripped over her faux-Shakespearean, giggling. "Yes little guy, you can talk." Shifted her weight again to the other foot, still looking down at him. "However," he said, leaning ever so carefully forward and setting her hands on the wall, "it would be best if you didn't move while your goddess worked..." A grin passed on her lips. "I don'teth want to stepeth on you." She chuckled. "Make you go squisheth!" 

Trying to balance on her outstretched hands and single foot, Darcy dragged her other foot on the heel over to where Andrew was laying down. She slowly hovered her foot, still holding her heel on the carpet below. 

"You ready, little devout?"

A soft nod from below, heavy breathing. 

"Good."

Her foot rolled down on him, slowly and tender. She found herself consciously slowing, somehow the fear of harm or worse coming back into her. She pressed on (not literally), her foot and toes splayed out as her sole contacted the flesh below.

It was warm! Very warm. She could make out the distinct shape of his legs, waist, then torso just by laying her foot on top of him. As she laid her toes to rest, she saw that they came up to his neck, the second largest toe (her 'pointer' toe she supposed) came just below his neck. And thank goodness for that- even that little toe of hers (long as it was) was a tree trunk! 

The feeling was all too surreal- each step they took together, each new adventure, the size difference became more real, less novel... Or maybe even more novel. Here, the warm body of Andrew pinned under her foot (she unconsciously lifted her foot slightly to alleviate any pressure), she realized something- she truly was a giant, a goddess to this tiny man. She literally held his life under foot.

Just think, if she had pressed any harder...

She blinked and swallowed, pushing those thoughts out of her mind. Out of the question, out her mind.

She would not hurt Andrew, and that was final. She cared deeply for this man, this fellow human. She couldn't live with herself if she ever hurt him. 

To try and take her mind off it, she focused back in Andrew, he looking up at her and smiling, rather nervously. 

"Really," he asked incredulously, a mocking and teasing tone lacing his voice, "I massage your toes and now you're gonna squish me like a bug? Jeez," he rolled his eyes. "See if I ever give you a massage again."

Darcy chuckled and dragged her toe across his chest slowly, feeling his respiration jump and a tiny bulge poke the bottom of the ball of her foot. She felt the pressure increase on her hands, her weight leaning on the wall.

"Don't worry, little devout," she said, biting her lip. Her hesitation was leaving her, a sweet and wild confidence filling the void. "You're not going to get squished, but I am going to reward you..."

Darcy's foot shifted, and her pointer toe was replaced by her big toe, a thing that covered maybe sixty percent of Andrew's body. Her eyes, however, narrowed and she snapped a finger.

"Oh, and, uh..." She gritted teeth and cast her eyes to the side. "We should probably have a safeword. Just in case, I mean. If the pressure gets to be too much or you want to stop... How about..."

"Waffle?"

Darcy screwed her face up, squinting. She brushed a stray hair from her face. 

"Waffle? Seriously?"

Andrew nodded.

"Sure. I am kind of hungry, actually."

Darcy laughed and stroked him again with her toe as she said, "well, okay. You're such a little weirdo sometimes."

"Says the girl who asks me to call her a goddess and is stepping on me?"

She blushed deeply and her bottom lip disappeared behind her front teeth.

"Fair point." She shook her head. "Anyway, enough talk!" She blew him a kiss and wiggled her toes above him. "It's time for your reward, little devout..."

Slowly, her toe pointed down, she descended her foot onto him and dragged it down from his chest to his waist. Lithely, and with a grace almost impossible at that size, she circled his testicles and pressed down softly.

Andrew moaned, his halfrection, apparently retreating back after a whole lot of nothing, fully engorged once again, ready for action. 

"Hmmm... Does that feel good?"

"Yes," he breathed out, "please, keep..."

"Keep going?" She cooed at him, finishing his thought. She licked her lip and smiled down. "Of course. Anything for my little man."

She rubbed and pressed, pressed and flicked, and expertly navigated her big toe all over him, taking special care of Andrew's penis and balls. He was fully erect, his thriving manhood sticking into the air like some pink tower. As Darcy dragged her toe along it, the side brushing by the shaft, even she felt the warmth radiating off of the blood-thick flesh. She flicked her toe softly, striking the shaft and Andrew gasped- for a half second Darcy worried she hurt him, but a smile from him assuaged her. 

It wasn't a even thing, no big deal, to pleasure Andrew like this. She marveled at the novelty of it. She'd heard of footjobs before, but that was with normal sized partners. Here was a situation that could very really devolve into an accident, if her foot slipped or she got careless. Then again, their first sexual experience did involve her sticking him inside and having basically his entire body inside her mouth for oral. How was this any different?

Well, I could step on him for one, she thought. I had hold of him inside me and he was laying on my hand when I licked him all over, so he was fairly safe, but now... 

She closed her eyes and smiled. Those thoughts had no place with her right this second. Yes, there was always a risk, and yes, she ought to take every precaution available to her for these kinds of things, but...

Come on. This was Andrew here, not some bug. She would always be cautious. Always.

She opened her eyes and looked down- Andrew's eyes were half closed, half open, and he was biting his lip. His breathing, she could hear, even from his distance, was more shallow, more rapid. 

Again she flicked her big toe around him, his chest and legs and his sex. They responded to each minute caress, each loving touch, with warmth and a sharp gasp escaping Andrew. 

"Hmm," Darcy cooed high above him, "I think my little guy likes this..."

She giggled as he nodded, still lost in his pleasure. 

With each stroke, he got closer and closer to the crest; with each flick or brush with her toe, he felt the blood in him thicken and course trough, threatening, he believed, would squirt out his nose if it got any higher.

Darcy seemed to sense this, and shifted in her position to try something very special- she twisted her heel and positioned her foot to hover her middle and pointer toes right above his cock.

Slowly, with a mischievous grin to match, she lower and splayed her toes out, just ever so slightly. Once her toes flanked his member, she carefully unsplayed her toes and let both of them contact the sides of the shaft. Andrew gasped at the slightest twitch, his hands grasping at the carpet and strands in a desperate attempt to not rocket off.

She smiled at the reaction- perfect. 

Her toes tightened slightly, squeezing the penis between the scrunching- the warm shaft caught and was held firmly, while not painfully. Again the shudder from Andrew, and a soft little gasp from Darcy- she felt the flush heat of his member radiating into her skin, warming her toes and thrilling her like no other. 

With a coy little bite of her lip, she began to flex infinitesimally- tiny tendons of her toes pulling mere millimeters back and forth, manipulating his member just so within her perception.

The desired effect was... Well, desirable. Andrew no longer shuddered wildly but made long stretches and pulls, biting his lip and moaning, highly satisfied- the sound of someone who just had their itch, one that had bothered for hours, scratched. Darcy bit her own lip, feeling more than pleased with herself.

Andrew himself was happy as well. Higher and higher he rode the sensation, letting himself fall into complete control of this beautiful creature he called his own. The act she wrought on him was, he admitted, a little off kilter from their usual fare, and he did hesitate but a bit when she started, but now...

But now!

He had always known Darcy to be a dexterous woman, surprisingly so for her height (even before his diminishing, in fact)- but the act of her little giving him a foot... Well, he supposed, a toejob (Is there such a word, he half dreamed, half thought), and by God, did it feel wonderful. 

Suddenly, finding a kind of blankness in the ever-rising crest, he felt himself slip past the point of no return, that feeling of ready or not, here it comes (literally, a voice echoed far away in the mind).

"D, Darcy."

He felt himself rise higher and higher, his mind elevating and blanking in one white hot moment where his nerves screamed and the stomach became hallowed out and void and wonderful. He released, inhaling sharply and smiling while squeezing his eyes shut, his stomach lurching upwards and inwards. His penis, still enveloped in the toe grip she held him in, twitched and erupted white hot seed that shot straight into the air, arced slightly, and then splattered softly on Darcy's big toe. 

He was, vaguely, aware of a distant giggle- all was blank as he sailed down from his cloud nine, riding the final wave of contented pleasure of post-coitus action. 

With a final grunt, Andrew flopped his head and arms (he had apparently grabbed Darcy's toe sometime during his orgasm) onto the carpet, utterly spent. As the sounds and sensations finally filled the blanks that were, he felt, shaking once more, Darcy releasing him from her grasp, slowly, and then as a little bit of playfulness, dragged her middle toe once more down his body and legs. 

"Mmmmm," he let out a moan, approving on all levels of the sudden pressure on his body. Darcy above him giggled and swayed her hips.

"Good for you, then, I imagine?"

Andrew nodded warmly, smiling and drinking deep breaths through his nose. She chuckled and, once she knew her feet were planted firmly on the floor and not her boyfriend, bent over doubly and reached down. 

Her fingers wiggled beneath him, digging themselves beneath and picking up his arms and legs and core and scooping him up in her hands, once again marveling at how light his body was. Was it really this tiny guy that squirted his unliteral liters of load all over her toes? She smirked at the thought. 

I picked me a healthy one, she thought. 

She brought him to her face, he slumping gloriously and resting his head softly on the thumb that held him pinned to the hand. She smiled, letting the little guy continue to slump. She lazily walked back over to the couch and sat down, doing her best to keep the little man stable. Softly, she set the little guy down onto the throw pillow next to her, lifting her foot as she did so.

"That," she declared finally, letting her head throw back and whipping a bit of sweat from hair, "was absolutely amazing. Thank you, little man," she reached over as poked her now supine boyfriend, who moaned annoyedly at her touch, "for making me feel like a goddess."

Andrew lifted himself up after a second or two, stretching his arms and legs and flexing his toes like a cat. Darcy watched him with something not unlike wanton lust, despite the both of them climaxing. Some animalistic tendency in her. To be predatory. To be the queen. Goddess. 

Maybe that is what brought it on in the first place.

"You are very, very welcome my dear." He sighed, contented, and looking over at Darcy. He smiled at her crookedly, and she shot it back at him. Both just sort of basked in each other's presence. It had been a long few couple of months, full of challenges, but also all the more filled with pleasures and surprises. 

"So then," Andrew began, looking briefly at his now sodden genitals and nails, thinking he ought to clean up before doing much of anything else, "what next? Or rather, what next, o goddess mine?"

Darcy laughed and bounced her foot, the one resting on her leg, up and down. She felt something cold and wet there pass from one toe to another. She glanced over and found the discharge of her tiny guy still clinging ever so tenaciously to her toe.

Andrew continued to speak, counting on his fingers as he rattled off activities. 

"We could pack, watch a movie on Netflix, or we could... Um..."

He looked up to see her just in time wrap her lips around the top of her foot, her tongue poking out from between her big and index toes. She watched in mute and horrific fascination as Darcy sucked the semen right off her foot, and saw, with equal disgust and pleasure, the bolus travel down her neck when she swallowed. Darcy locked her brown eyes on him, smiling a bit when she realized he was watching, half embarrassed. 

"Or, I guess, we could suck jizz off our toes. I guess that works too."

Darcy giggled as he folded his arms uncomfortably and shifted, unconsciously covering his own privates that still had hints of the almighty white offspring batter (and the semi he had sprung). 

"I can't help it," she half-whispered in that flirtatious 'don't care' tone of hers. "Like I said the first time, you're a tasty treat for me."

"Jesus, Darcy." He said shaking his head, the smile creeping on his lips betraying his incomplete disgust. "Are you hungry? Should we go to Waffle House or something? I don't think I'll be on the menu there but maybe a waffle and coffee would suffice?"

"Oooh, can I get cheese on my hash?"

"Only if you're sharing," he shot back. "Oh, and chili."

"Deal!" She said, slapping her feet on the floor and scooping him up in her hands to go clean up in the bathroom. As she rose Andrew's tiny voice popped up once again.

"Oh, and you'll have to use house creamer for your coffee. You emptied me out of cream, I'm afraid."

"Ewww," Darcy droned through a laugh, shutting the bathroom door behind her.