The Nun's Feet

Man tricks devout nun into erotic foot massage.

It was a June afternoon and I had just left mass. Not knowing what to do, I went to my friend Lorena's place, who lived nearby and was a nun. She had taken her vows ten years ago, and the convent where she lived was quite flexible, so three days a week she slept outside of it, in an apartment in the Lince district inherited from her family.

I knocked on the door and she opened it. She was in her thirties and I saw, as always, her pretty face and, despite wearing her habit, it was noticeable that she had a good figure. She let me in. We always talked about things from the Bible and prayer. However, I desired her. I had had many sexual fantasies with her, but I knew it was impossible. The nun was a true devotee. Though something had occurred to me, a formula that couldn't fail.

The beautiful nun knew very little about eroticism, so perhaps my fetish would go undetected. What's more, it was possible that she didn't even know of the existence of this particular taste: feet. I had always been a lover of women's feet. I had spent hours looking at foot photos and masturbating. But there had been few occasions when I had the privilege of touching beautiful feet in real life.

The delicacy of the nun's facial features and her pretty hands made it evident that her feet had to be more than fine. So that day, after going to mass, I already had in mind a series of lies with which I would convince her to let me enjoy that part at the end of her legs.

We were talking casually. She offered me mango juice. With passion, the nun Lorena spoke to me about certain passages from the Old Testament. Then, out of nowhere, I commented that I was self-studying the art of reflexology. She showed interest, since in her work as a nun she also performed certain nursing tasks. I told her that there were many studies on foot massage and emotional and physical health. She indicated that she had heard something and that it would surely be effective. Then, I dared and asked the question. I swear I was filled with anguish. I asked if I could massage her feet to demonstrate the technique. I was sure she would say no; but she said yes.

I couldn't believe it! There, right in front of me, that pretty nun was taking off her shoes and stockings. It was so erotic to see how, slowly, she began to reveal her feet to me. My penis got hard instantly. I almost shouted with excitement, but I'm a good actor and acted as if everything was normal. Without me saying anything, she placed her feet on my legs, close to my erection, which apparently she hadn't noticed.

Then I started talking about how reflexology this and that. As is obvious, I know nothing about reflexology. My charlatanism was nothing more than a story to validate my actions. Then, I touched her feet. They felt so soft and warm. They were so soft and perfect. No calluses. The most beautiful toes I had ever seen. And I began to massage. The curve of her feet was so pleasant under my palms. And my favorite part: her toes in my hands. My heart was pounding hard and I felt my body temperature rise. She looked in beatific calm, and told me it was quite relaxing.

I touched those feet as much as I wanted. The heels, the entire sole, the toes. I was in my glory. I was so eager to take out my penis and masturbate. I kept talking about the healthy properties of reflexology, but less and less. And the nun Lorena seemed more and more relaxed. She even expressed that she could feel the well-being it caused in her body.

Then came the next lies I had devised.

With a trembling voice, with the feeling that she would throw me out of her house for being a pervert, I told her that there was a special Chinese technique. This consists of sucking the feet during the application of reflexology, because that contributes to the stimulation of the nervous system. I myself knew it was an obvious and stupid lie. It was too evident that there was lust in my intentions, but I had to try. The nun seemed drowsy and smiling, and told me it sounded very interesting, to proceed.

I said to myself, what? And I looked at her face, and it was one of clear relaxation and pleasure. She was so beautiful. Seeing her face like that, contorted, made me realize the little skin-to-skin contact, let alone with a man, that she had had for a long time. And perhaps she didn't have an erotic reading of what was happening, perhaps she did--I don't know--but it was clear that she felt pleasure.

I continued massaging and began sucking her toes. I started with the left foot and it seemed to me that she let out a small moan. I sucked each toe of both feet, slowly licked her perfect soles, and even gave small bites to her heels. She moaned softly and slightly moved her head. She even said: keep going, it feels very good. I continued massaging, sucking, and already directly kissing her feet all over. My penis was about to explode. Then I dared to place one of her feet on my erection, over my pants, while continuing to suck her other foot. To my surprise, she began to massage my penis with the foot that was on my pants. She moved her pretty toes with skill, both inside my mouth and over my shaft, then I ejaculated. A wet stain remained on my pants.

I lowered her feet and told her that the reflexology was over. She commented that she felt better in health. That even a certain back pain she had had gone away. She told me that it was noticeable that I had studied reflexology well and that if I wanted, I could come another day to practice with her again. Then, she changed the subject and continued talking about the Old Testament. I followed the conversation and acted as if nothing had happened, despite my pants being wet. She spoke with her soft and pure tone, but continued with her bare feet on my legs. Half an hour passed, until I said I had to go. She put on her stockings and shoes and walked me to the door.

From time to time I visit her and we haven't done the reflexology thing again. I think I'll try again this Sunday, after mass. I need to think of more lies, fictions, that allow her and me to enjoy again. Just as religion is a fiction that allows us to live, there are fictions that must be told to give ourselves permission to enjoy.