Vevila, library, page 2 of 2

Vevila lounging at the library.
by Tyklfynd

Vevila made it to the library just after lunch, latte in hand. Found her way to her favorite couch. Slipped off her clean white flip flops. And stretched out on her tummy to study. She slid her bare, smooth soles over the arm of the couch, and innocently flexed her feet, pretending not to notice that several men had strategically seated themselves to get a close view of her feet.
She came here often, usually after a few cups of coffee at the campus coffee shop. The library was the perfect place to safely mingle, and perhaps even tease, those boys who were drawn to the sight of her bare soles like flies to fly paper. She always pretended not to notice them. And they tried so hard to be sly about gawking at her wiggling toes and soles. It made her feel so sexy and powerful, to draw them to her and hold them in their seats. They sat so still as they gawked. Except for he package adjustment they always did about 15 seconds after setting themselves up for the show.
Today was a Scott day. He was a frequent voyeur of her pink soles. And she loved it most when he was there. He was so cute, in a slightly shy and nerdy sort of way. And she would just arch and flex and wiggle slowly till he was shifting around, looking like he couldn't stand it.
Vevila took great care of her feet; carefully exfoliating, moisturizing, and polishing her young soles till they were smooth and sensitive. It delighted her to have her feet admired, especially by Scott. And her heart pounded as she secretly watched his reflection in the window. His eyes were glued to her feet. Every time she curled her toes he would tense up ever so slightly. When she spread her toes out and arched her feet he would hold his breath. The feeling was delicious, to tease him like this, to make him squirm for lust after her naked feet. Vevila wondered, is Scott a tickler or a worshipper? Most of the foot lovers are one or the other. To find out she brought her left foot up to her hand and scratched her arch gently, twitching as she scratched, to show how ticklish her feet were. She smiled and nearly giggled at his reaction. He bit down on his knuckles as if the sight of her twitching tickled foot was more than he could stand. Perfect!
Vev often fantasized about being tied up and tickled; with heavy doses of foot tickling. The thought of being helpless and tickled incessantly scared her a little, but also excited her more than any other of her fantasies. She imagined herself tied spread eagle, nude, and blindfolded, as a night prowler teased her genitals with feathers and tickled her body and feet with his fingers. Recently, the night prowler was always played by Scott.
And why didn't he do something? No matter how long or often she teased him with her ticklish soles, he would just sit there. He never left first. She would have loved it if he would just sneak up and tickle her feet. Or at least try and talk to her. But he was too shy.

* * *

Scott came in from the burning humidity, into the cool air conditioned library. He loved weather like this; all the women were in sandals, or even better, in flip-flops. And such a joy to see a woman's feet flex and arch as she walks along in flip-flops. When you look down at their feet as they pass, they never suspect you are checking out their feet, they just think you are averting your gaze because you are shy. To Scott, flip-flops were about the sexiest shoe a woman could wear. It was so cute and hot the way they squeezed their toes together to hold on to the shoe as they walked. And you got little teasing peeks at their bare soles as they lifted up their heels. Also, when woman sat down, they almost always either dangled the flip flop, which was just devastating, or pulled their feet out all together and propped them up on a chair. Perfectly clean white flip flops were the best. They gave a women's feet a very clean, fresh look.
The library was the perfect place to find barefoot women. They stretched themselves out on the couches and chairs, kicked off their sandals, and curled their toes as they studied; completely unaware of his eyes peeking at their soles from between the bill of his baseball cap, and the top of his book. One particular girl was his favorite. She had feet to die for. So smooth they were shiny. Perfectly clean and well cared for. The youngest, supplest, softest soles. Not a callous or imperfection. The tops of her feet were a very deep dark tan. As were her long, strong legs. Her hair was midnight black, and shiny. So black it looked almost blue. She was gorgeous, way out of his league and he new it. But her feet, oh my god, he lusted after her feet. Her heels were plump, pink, and smooth. Toes that looked like ripe little fruits, begging to be nibbled. High arches that made him ache with the desire to stroke them with his tongue. Flexible and supple, clean and delicious, he ached from head to toe to touch them.
He didn't know her name, but always looked for her in the same area. He kissed any hope of studying goodbye when she was stretched out on her favorite blue couch; his eyes would be glued to her magnificent soles every minute she was there, until she left. She was an untouchable goddess. 15 seconds after he quietly positioned himself to gaze lovingly at her irresistible feet, he was lost in a lustful daze. It tormented him to stare at her delicious size 10's, but he couldn't stop torturing himself. And best of all, she had no idea that he was even there. He knew she would scowl at him as a perverted freak if she ever noticed how desperately he wanted to kiss, lick, worship, and tickle her feet. Especially tickle. All his life he had been a total tickle freak. Looking up the word "ticklish" up in the dictionary, so aroused by the definition. Sometimes he just wanted to leap on these gorgeous women all around him in his classes, pull off their shoes and tickle their feet mercilessly.
Then it happened, a moment he would cherish and relive again and again. This dark goddess brought her left foot up to her delicate fingers, and scratched her high arches. But she twitched as she tried to scratch herself! She was tickling herself! A woman's feet have to be insanely ticklish for her to be able to tickle herself! He couldn't stand it, it was just pure torture, but no matter how crazy with lust he felt, he couldn't stop gawking. Someday, he thought, someday he will find a woman who will let him tickle her feet, maybe even like it, and that would be heaven. Oh how he wished for that day with all his heart. How alone to be a foot freak.