If you are a male then you need to keep reading this paragraph. Females can skip to the next one since they already know what I am about to divulge. There is a well-kept secret that men should be aware of; it is called a nail salon. A visit to one of these establishments can change your life. If you ask a man if he has ever had a pedicure he will most likely either not know what one is or he will say that they are for women. The truth you need to discover is that they are for any living being with feet. The following story is my personal testament to just how much of an impact a pedicure can have on your life.
Every two weeks my wife Eileen goes to a nail salon to have a manicure and a pedicure. She does this as fervently and religiously as a devout Muslim makes pilgrimage to Mecca. She has been doing this for as long as I have known her and unless some catastrophe precluded her going, she never missed her appointment.
We had joined a gym to stay more active and my usual shoes for exercising were in the washing machine when I was looking for them to go work out. I found an old pair in a closet and wore them to the gym. During my exercises I began to feel a pain in my big toe but ignored it and continued my full hour routine. When I got back to the house and removed my shoes and socks my big toenail was extremely discolored and bruised. Eileen saw it and examined it closely.
"I'm not surprised. Your toenails are in terrible shape. They are too long, a couple of them are ingrown and your big one may need medical attention."
"So much for getting healthy at the gym." I muttered dejectedly.
"Don't blame the gym for your lack of care for your feet. You need to do two things: get a good pair of shoes to work out in and come with me to the nail salon and see if one of the technicians can do something with your damaged toenail."
The following day I accompanied my wife to her biweekly nail appointment like a recalcitrant schoolboy being taken to the principal's office. Eileen informed the receptionist that she had brought me along to have a pedicure. I was uncomfortable being in this female sanctuary and received a few stares from the other patrons that were clearly meant to convey their resentment of my presence. The staff however made me feel welcome and guided me to a large chair with a basin attached to the front.
I took a seat next to the one Eileen was in and was immediately flustered by what to do with my feet since I still had my shoes on and obviously couldn't put them into the basin, which was now filling with water. I was saved by the arrival of my technician. When I looked up to see her I was immediately astonished by this angel that had suddenly appeared in my view.
She was not much more than five feet tall with a perfect body. I had never seen such a harmony of body parts on anybody, male or female. She had long jet-black hair pulled back in a ponytail. Her face was pretty but not what I would call classically beautiful. I probably thought this because I had a western conception of what a beautiful woman looks like and she was clearly Asian. In addition, I had a dismal history with short women. It wasn't a prejudice but an accurate evaluation of all the women I had known both intimately and socially. Short women and I never seemed to get along. The cutoff point was about five-six. I'm six feet two inches tall so that may have something to do with it.
It was obvious that I was completely absorbed in ogling her. She knew this of course and was dressed precisely to elicit this reaction. She was fully covered but her body could not have been more provocatively displayed. A blue skintight boat-neck t-shirt showed enough cleavage to demand attention. The straps of a lacy black bra showed ever so slightly when she bent over. Her hips and legs were covered in white leggings that left nothing to the imagination. Her pussy and ass were detailed so clearly under the sheer fabric that they became more erotic than if she were naked. I saw no evidence of panties. Her dainty feet were enclosed in little black Chinese slippers.
Women seem to have a built in digital timer that goes off at the exact second when they decide that you have spent enough time staring at their charms. Thank god for this, otherwise I would have begun to drool. She knelt beside the chair as smoothly as a gymnast and picked up my left foot.
"Please sir, allow me to remove your shoes."
Allow her? I would have begged for her touch anywhere on my body. Even through my sock I felt an electrical current making my ankle warm where she held it. She gently and efficiently removed my shoe then slowly pulled my sock down starting at the top. I swear she used her fingers to caress my lower calf in a way that left no misunderstanding that those fingers could do the same to more intimate parts of me. She carefully placed my shoe next to the chair and folded my sock to put inside it. My heart leapt for joy when I remembered that I had another foot.
When she had undressed my feet she then returned her hands to my ankle and began slowly sliding my pants leg up my calf. When she got to my knee she rolled the material up so it would stay in place above my knee. I don't know if it was wishful thinking or not but I got the distinct impression that those hands would have been very willing to slide much further up my leg. She then returned her hands to my ankle and picked up my foot to move it to the water in the basin. Then she repeated the procedure with my other leg.
She had been looking at my lower extremities the entire time but when both of them were submerged in the water she looked up at me and asked, "How is the water?"
I managed to stammer out "Fine" in a choking voice.
She then stood and walked away with my eyes locked on her gorgeous ass. A moment later she returned with a case full of bottles and assorted tools and a small stool, which she placed close to the basin. She then sat down on the stool with her legs spread wide and I knew where my eyes would be for the remainder of my pedicure. She picked up a small towel and placed it on the curved edge of the basin before reaching into the water to retrieve my right foot and putting my heel on the towel. She quickly evaluated my nails and announced, "Your toes are in dire need of my attention. When was the last time you had a pedicure?"
Before I could answer, Eileen, who I had completely forgotten about, said, "It's his first time but it won't be his last." She couldn't have been more right about that. Eileen then asked, "What is your name?"
The young woman said it was Judy.
"What is your Vietnamese name?"
Judy replied "Hunni, pronounced like the English word honey."
"That's a beautiful name. I hope you won't mind if we call you Hunni?"
"If it pleases you, I do not mind."
I finally spoke up and said, "Well it pleases me. So far you have been as sweet as your name and it suits you perfectly."
Eileen then said, "Hunni, this is my husband George. See what you can do with those toes even if you have to cut a couple of them off. He deserves it for neglecting them for so long."
Hunni looked at her and said, "I don't think such an extreme measure will be necessary if he will allow me to care for them on a regular basis. The damaged toe will need a long time to completely recover but I am sure I can restore it to health."
Her words were music to my ears. I wondered if I could get away with coming here every day. My musing on that thought was interrupted by Hunni asking me what kind of pedicure I wanted. My mind went blank. Eileen knew I would take several minutes to figure this out and said, "Deluxe." With that issue settled Hunni began to work on my feet.
Her first task was to wash my foot with a liquid soap applied with a small brush that had very soft bristles. This treatment introduced me to an entirely new concept of joy. My whole body relaxed and tingled as she delicately moved the brush over my foot. I wanted to close my eyes and lean my head back to bask in the sheer pleasure she was providing me.
The reason I didn't was the position of her upper body bent slightly over, affording me the glorious sight of her soft, supple, perfectly shaped breasts jiggling in synchronization with the movements of her amazing hands. You can try to imagine how intensely erection inducing this vision was if it could distract me from my hypnotic fixation with her pussy. It was truly almost impossible to differentiate the sensations she was producing in my brain from those of receiving a hand job. I wondered if I was going to make it through the entire pedicure without cumming in my pants.
My concern about unintended ejaculation increased when I remembered that everything she did to me was going to happen twice. When she was satisfied that my right foot was sufficiently clean she wrapped her hand under my heel and lowered it back into the warm water. Then lavished the same wonderful attention on my left foot. Each time she bent forward or reached sideways to get something from her case I got to see a different and enhanced view of her tits.
The cups of her bra were a little too small to contain her ample mounds, which afforded me increasingly revealing views of her tits depending on what she was doing and how she moved. I suspected she was fully aware of this and had become practiced in this intentional display. But you would never know it. She did it with so much attention to my foot that not a single telltale sign was visible that would indicate she was doing anything except her job. She was either as adept at multi-tasking as the most advanced supercomputer or she was missing her calling as an exotic dancer.
