”“Good”, he said while massaging harder.“And what else do you love?”“Your feet.” I said. Despite repeating this ritual every morning, I ...till felt ashamed.“And how do you like them?”“Bare.” I had to admit as always.“Only?”“No, also when you wear socks.”“Which socks?” he continued, unsatisfied.“The white tennis socks, and the blue socks for trekking.”“Well, well....” he said in an impatient tone. “But the socks are not enough right? What do you need more?” I did not answer. He knew the answer,. Her breathing had grown heavier and she felt a fluttery feeling in her chest as she became physically aroused, but still she did nothing. She was savoring the mood. If he wanted to wait a month of Sundays to take it to the next level, she was willing to wait. For the first time she was sure he had feelings for her; she wasn't sure how deep they ran, but he wasn't just trying to get into her pants. She was enjoying every second of it. She'd discovered what a turn on anticipation could be."See. More

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