She Still Plays with Dolls

by

Twerp

Man oh man, is she ever fly. 18, lean and not to mean. It's hard to beleive the same girl used to tug on my sleeve. She was always cute, no doubt about it. You knew from an early age she was gonna break a few hearts. But mine? Nah! Yet here she was. Well, there she is. Teasing, tormenting, tempting. Incouraging my intentions. I used to sit at this very window and happen a glance or two towards the pool where her mom used to sun herself. But now somebody else has captured my attention. Four years of college and not once did a lesson ever mention this. How the hell did she grow up so quick?

Ashley loved the sun. It gave her life, nourishment, sustenance. And an enviable skin tone that was the perfect compliment to her beach blonde hair. She basked in all her feminine glory as the sun paid his goddess homage. Asley felt like a Queen during her daily rituals. And has was the routine, her dolls were strategically placed at her divine feet.

She still plays with dolls. What the hell was that all about? Was it one of those security blanket deals? But why the hell would a vision of such imposible beauty have insecurity issues. I remember she used to carry them with her everywhere as a child, but i mean c'mon. She was a kid, that's expected. But here was this woman, with Barbie and Ken prostrated at her feet. Wierd. Intriuging, but wierd. And her feet. Now that I've noticed, i never noticed how beautiful they were. While away at school i developed a certain affinity for the female extremeities, and hers were quite striking. Even from way up here, this i could tell. Like they were designed to be noticed and attract attention. Nails unpainted, but glossed and buffered to an immaculate shine. A ring adorned the middle toe on her left foot, and when wiggled and flexed to the appropriate postion, it would deflect a sunbeam right into my iris and nearly blind me.

Ashley knew she was beautiful. The product of good genes and a posh upbringing. She wasn't arrogant she was just right. Since she was a little girl she felt like the rest of the world was somehow beneath her. An inflated sense of self worth for sure, but for some reason it seemed appropriate. She was aware of the stares. Her ample bosom and healthy back side provided peace of mind. But she admired her feet has her greatest asset, and she flaunted unabashedly, without the slightest hint for shame. She knew. And this fed her desire. Pedicures twice weekly, always free.
She had had her feet worshipped by many a willing tounge. Male, female, friends, family, teachers. She didn't discriminate. She demanded. Yet she wanted, no, she desrved more. Absolute power, total domonation, the whole world groveling at her magnificant feet. For now though, her two little dolls complied.

I wish i were one of those dolls right now. I envy their position of utter servitude. I have places to go and people to meet, but all i want to do is worship Ashleys feet. The girl i used to babysit has enslaved my being. And i'm feeling like believing in Ashley. My Goddess. i want this.

That's it Mike. This is all you need. Just stare and believe. Believe in me as your supreme being. Your trust is in me, and your world is my feet. Now set yourself free, for your tongue is the key.

I want this my Goddess, your body erotic. My thoughts are encompassed by visions of you as a giant.

Giantess.

Our eyes fianlly met. It had been so long. She motioned for me to come down, and i did.

'It's been a long time Mike.'

'You look amazing Ashley.'

'Always the little Romeo.'
She stood up, and i mean she stood up.

Her two peice pink string bikini screamed at me, has i stare face to nipple.

'%&%&%'

'My setiments exactly little Mike. Things seemed to have changed since last we met. For the better i hope?'

'Wow