I helped a girlfriend move yesterday. Well, I did the beer and pizza runs, cleaned her kitchen, watched kids, and packed her shoes. And I thought I was depraved about the number of pairs of shoes…
Anyway, a small gaggle of us were left at the end of the day sitting with our feet up whining about blisters. Her Christmas gift, a Black and Decker aromatherapy foot bath happened to be on top of the pile, complete with lilac smelling bubbly stuff. Plugged it in, and it started it’s foot tickling thing. ohhhhh. ahhhh. I am so glad I live in the technological age. I’m such a geek, but I especially love pleasure giving gagets. Note to self, must get one of those. So after drying off the now purple and lilac smelling toes (with the great candy-ass pink pedicure), we proceeded to massage each others feet. Playing with my toes if you don’t tickle me, turns me on. Well, often times watching you breathe turns me on, but that’s immaterial. So girls doing sensual foot massages got me thinking about why it is that my feet are such an erotic part of me? I would rather have reflexology than a full body massage any day. Maybe second only to the back of my head and hair for overall sensuous hot spots, those sensations walk the line between tingly, relaxed, and gut tightening sensations. I don’t know if she felt the same way about her toes being played with, but I was biting my lip by the end of it. The girl gives good feet. grin.