"You'd do that for me?" Rebecca asks, sounding genuinely flattered "I asked Shaun for one a couple of years back and he gave me hell about it for weeks. Personally, I think he just wasn't ready to handle a pair of all-american feet." She reminisces. Shaun may not have been ready, but you sure as hell are.
You kneel at Rebecca's feet, patting your lap, gesturing for her to lay her feet there. She happily obliges.
"It'll be good to get pampered like this." Rebecca smiles, as you slowly, savouringly, tease open the laces of her left workboot.
"Footrubs can be therapeutic." You inform her. Sometimes on both ends, you think, as you finish her left laces and move onto the right ones, unlacing the boots before you slide them off her feet, saving the best reveal for last, as it were.
"Now, my feet are kinda ugly. Promise you won't be too disgusted?" Rebecca asks sweetly. You expect she's being too hard on herself, having such a cute girl with ugly feet could be the ultimate disappointment.
"I promise, no matter what, I won't hold anything back." You say, quickly pulling off her boots. As you get a good look at all the supple footflesh she now has on display, you know she was being too hard on herself.
"Oh, Rebecca, your feet are beautiful!" You say, practically swooning at the sight of her creamy white arches. Best of all, she wants you to rub them, she actually wants you to do it!
"I bet you say that to all the Assassin engineers you give footrubs to." She smiles, shifting her now bare feet ever so slightly in your lap.
You decide to get to work, rubbing from her the balls of her feet to her heels, working your hands over her flawless skin. You ease your fingers in and around the toes, ever so slightly rubbing them up and down, a reflection of another thing of yours you'd like to rub on something of hers. You cup the balls of her feet as if they were tiny, perky breasts, and glory in the heat radiating from Rebecca's gorgeous feet.
You shift her feet around in your lap, inconspicuously drawing them back and forth across the tent you're pitching in your jeans. At least, you hope you're being inconspicuous, you're too afraid that looking up at Rebecca will end this joyful encounter and you'll wake up, alone at home and with no sexy Assassin feet to mess around with.
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