My Barefoot Sister-in-Law Teases Me Every Time We’re Alone

My wife’s sister knew almost from the first day what kind of man I was. She didn’t need me to tell her in words: it was enough to see the way my eyes dropped to her feet whenever she took her shoes off. Carla is petite, slender, very fair-skinned, with blonde hair and green eyes. She wears a size five and a half, just like her sister, and has the habit of slipping off her sandals as soon as she sits down, as if the floor belonged to her and no one were watching.

I was watching. Always watching.

Back when I was still dating my wife and spending afternoons at my in-laws’ house, Carla used to walk around in flip-flops or open sandals that left every toe, every curve of her instep, and those soles of hers that looked like velvet, fully on display. She’d sit across from me, cross her legs, and let one sandal dangle from the tip of her foot while she talked about whatever. To her it was an innocent gesture. For me it was a provocation I could barely hide.

One day, when we were alone in the kitchen, I couldn’t hold back and told her.

—Your feet ought to be illegal —I blurted, staring at them shamelessly—. They’re the most exciting thing I’ve ever seen in my life.

She froze for a second, surprised, and then burst out laughing.

—So that was it —she said, looking down at the bulge I wasn’t even trying to hide—. I’ll have to be more careful with you around. I don’t want my sister blaming me for your sins.

But she wasn’t careful. Quite the opposite.

***

From that afternoon on, every time we were alone the same ritual repeated itself. I’d take one of her feet in my hand, slip off her sandal if she was still wearing it, and massage it slowly while she watched me with a half-smile. She never stopped me. At first she only let my hands roam over her instep and heel, but with time I started kissing her toes one by one, and running my tongue along the whole sole, lingering on that impossibly soft skin. I’d suck her big toe all the way, taking it into my mouth up to the knuckle, and I could feel the sigh that escaped her, one she tried to hide by crossing her legs tighter.

—It’s not like I do anything special, you know —she told me once, amused, while I kissed the arch of her foot—. I’ve always had them like this.

She said it like it was nothing, but her eyes were shining, and when she looked down at the hard bulge straining against my fly she bit her lip. She knew exactly what she was doing. When she noticed me starting to breathe differently, when I could no longer think about anything else, when my cock throbbed ready to split the fabric of my pants, she’d pull her foot away and stand up.

—Don’t you even think about coming here —she’d say, laughing—. You need to save that load for my sister’s feet.

And she’d leave me there, with my swollen dick and my semen right on the edge, while she put her shoes back on as if nothing had happened. Once she confessed to me, almost sadly, that her husband had no idea what he had on his hands. That he had never touched her feet, that it never even crossed his mind, that he had never sucked one of her toes or jackhammered himself against her soles. What a waste, I thought. And I told her so with my eyes.

***

A few weeks ago they invited us over for dinner. My wife and I arrived on time, and the first thing I saw when I walked in was Carla’s sandals: a single thin strap between the first two toes, nothing holding the heel, with a high heel that forced the foot to arch in that way that drove me crazy. She moved around the living room swinging them, letting them slip halfway off her heel, and every time she did she caught my eye to make sure I was still hooked.

After dinner we sat on the sofa talking. Her husband on one side, my wife on the other, and Carla opposite us, a glass in her hand. At one point she took off her sandals, put her feet up on the edge of the sofa, and started rubbing her husband’s leg with them absently, while she looked at me sidelong. He didn’t even flinch. For him it was just an affectionate little gesture. Me, on the other hand, I had a cock hard as a rock and felt like my heart was about to burst out of my chest.

—I’m going to the bathroom for a second —I said, getting up as discreetly as I could, with my hand over my pants so my erection wouldn’t show.

—I’ll walk you, this house is a maze —she replied at once, barefoot, before her husband could offer.

She walked ahead of me down the hall, knowing I was staring at the soles of her feet with every step. When we got to the bathroom door, she turned around.

—Try not to make a mess on the floor —she murmured, barely holding back her laughter, her eyes fixed on my fly.

I was just about to head back to the living room when I grabbed her arm, bent down, and lifted one foot to my mouth. I sucked her toes hungrily, one by one, taking them deep into my throat, coating them in saliva from end to end. I ran my tongue over the whole sole, from heel to tip, nibbled the arch, licked between her toes with the tip of my tongue as if I were eating her cunt. She bit back a moan and gripped the doorframe. Without stopping sucking her foot, I lowered my fly with my other hand and pulled out my cock, hard, swollen, the tip already wet with pre-cum. I rubbed her soles against my cock just two or three times before she pulled back, panting.

—Are you insane? —she whispered, glancing toward the hall—. My sister and my husband are ten meters away. If they hear us, if they come looking and see me jerking you off with my feet in the hallway, they’ll kill both of us.

—Carla, I swear, right now all I want is to come all over your feet —I told her, not recognizing my own voice, with my cock in my hand and dripping between us—. One minute. Give me one minute and I’ll blow the whole load.

She looked stunned, shook her head, and squeezed my dick with her fingers for a second, like a farewell, before going back to the living room as if nothing had happened. I locked myself in the bathroom for a long while, my cock burning, trying to calm the impossible without jerking off for fear it would show on my face when I came out. For the rest of the night she didn’t take her sandals off even once. She had learned her lesson, or maybe she just wanted to leave me half-starved so I’d spend the night thinking about her, with a hard cock under the sheets.

***

On the way home, my wife surprised me.

—You spent the whole night staring at Carla’s feet —she said, with an uncomfortable grimace—. And she knows it. All that sandal-taking-off act was to tease you, wasn’t it? You were lucky my brother-in-law didn’t notice anything. But be careful.

—It was nothing —I lied—. I didn’t do anything. It’s just that… your sister has beautiful feet. Like yours —I added, trying to fix it.

She looked at me sideways with a crooked smile.

—Yeah, sure. Don’t change the subject. Tonight you’re going to show me all that devotion, and you’d better not be thinking about my sister’s feet while you lick mine.

I kissed her and promised I’d only think about her. And that night I kept my promise. Or almost. I tore her clothes off as soon as we shut the bedroom door, laid her back on the bed, and lifted her legs until her feet were at my face. I licked her soles, sucked her toes just like I’d wanted to do with her sister’s, and while I was sucking them I jacked myself off with my other hand, my cock already soaked. When I couldn’t take it anymore, I pressed her feet together and shoved my dick between her two soles, up and down, fucking that warm little gap she deliberately squeezed me with. My wife moaned and told me to come all over her feet, and I did, thick ropes falling between her toes and sliding down her instep. Then I opened her legs and ate her pussy until she came twice in a row, so there could be no doubt who I was fucking. But when I finally buried myself in her and started pounding her all the way to the hilt, I closed my eyes and for one second, just one second, it was Carla’s feet I saw.

***

But what really changed things happened a few days later. We were all at my in-laws’ house and, in the middle of the afternoon, a plan came up to go shopping at a mall. The others, including Carla’s husband, had left early for a tennis tournament. She said she’d rather stay and watch a movie she’d started. I, using the excuse of some work on the computer I couldn’t leave half-finished, said I wouldn’t go either.

As soon as the car disappeared down the street and the house fell silent, I waited about ten minutes just to be safe. Then I headed to the living room.

Carla was on the sofa, legs stretched out and feet wrapped in a pair of open high heels that left the base of her toes peeking out. I didn’t say a word. I knelt in front of her and started taking off her shoes.

—Careful, someone might come back —she said, not moving, not pulling her foot away.

—No one’s coming back for hours —I replied, and kissed the top of her foot.

I caressed her feet slowly, kissed them, licked them all over, sucked each toe at my own pace because for once we had all the time in the world. I spread her toes with my tongue and ran the tip between them one by one until they were shining with saliva. I licked the sole from heel to toe in one long, slow stroke, and I felt a moan escape her that she no longer even tried to hide. I nibbled her arch, sucked her ankle, devoured both feet as if I were eating the most delicious cunt in the world. She started clenching her legs, shifting on the sofa, and I saw that her little shorts were plastered to her crotch, with a dark wet patch that couldn’t be hidden.

—You’re wet, sister-in-law —I told her, my lips pressed to her instep.

—Shut up and keep going —she answered, closing her eyes.

When I couldn’t take it anymore, I opened my fly and pulled out my hard, swollen cock, the tip dark purple. I started rubbing it against her soles, up and down, and smeared her toes with pre-cum. She watched me with a mixture of disbelief and curiosity, but not once did she try to stop me. On the contrary: she licked her lips and looked down, missing nothing.

—Are you really this crazy? —she asked in a low voice, her breathing ragged.

—Crazy as hell —I admitted—. I want you to massage me with your feet until I blow all over them. I was left wanting the other night at your place, and I’ve been jerking off for days thinking about this.

She tilted her head, thoughtful, and started moving her feet. First her toes, closing them around my glans, sliding up and down my cock with a delicacy that took my breath away. She had me trapped between both soles together, forming a warm little hollow where I was pushing my hips almost without realizing it. Then she wrapped me up completely, squeezing with those soft, warm soles I’d been imagining against my skin for years, setting a firm rhythm, up and down, slick with my own pre-cum, which was already soaking her fingers.

—Fuck, Carla, you do that so well —I gasped—. Look at how you’ve got it, look how it’s dripping.

—Do you do this with my sister’s feet? —she asked, without stopping, squeezing harder—. Does she like you fucking her soles like this? Does she come with you? Does it turn you on as much as this is turning you on right now?

—Always —I confessed through my gasps, my cock wrapped between her soles—. And she loves it. But yours… yours are something else, sister-in-law. I’ve spent years wanting to come all over these feet.

Something in my answer lit her up. She opened her legs a little, slid her free hand inside her shorts, and started touching herself while she kept jerking me off with her feet. I heard her moan, heard her let out a thick gasp when her own fingers found her clit, and seeing her there, masturbating and massaging my cock with her soles at the same time, finished breaking me. She pressed her feet harder against me, set a firm rhythm with her toes, sliding up and down the full length of my cock, and when she felt I was about to explode she didn’t let up. On the contrary, she sped up.

—Come, come all over my feet, brother-in-law —she panted, her hand buried between her thighs—. Fill my toes with cum, I want to see it.

I came over the top of her foot and her toes with a shudder that ran through me completely, a long, thick jet that fell between both feet and slid down her sole, and then another, and another, while she came almost at the same time, biting her lip and looking at me with half-lidded eyes. I filled her feet completely with semen, the toes, the instep, all the way to the ankle, and I didn’t stop emptying myself until the last drop slid off my tip.

I cleaned her feet myself, carefully, almost reverently, licking each toe and sucking her soles clean so I wouldn’t leave any trace of my load.

—Did you like it? —I asked.

—More than I should have —she admitted, still breathless—. I came, you know? With your cock between my feet. My husband has never touched my feet. It never even crosses his mind. He doesn’t know what he’s missing.

—You’ve got a husband who doesn’t know how lucky he is —I said—. Imagine marrying the owner of feet like these and never fucking them. What a waste, sister-in-law.

She burst out laughing and stretched out on the sofa like a cat, her legs still open and her shorts shoved off to one side.

—Well —she said, looking at me with half-closed eyes—, from now on that problem is solved. I’m counting on you to appreciate them as they deserve. And to fill me up with cum every time we’re alone.

—Any time you want —I replied—. That’s what you’ve got me for.

I went back to my computer before the others returned, my heart still racing, my cock softening against my thigh, and the certainty that this had not been an ending, but a beginning. And as I listened in the background to the movie she was still pretending to watch, I thought about how strange desire is: how women find a way to tease us in the most impossible situations, and how, again and again, we’re willing to lose everything for just one more caress.