My first story didn't generate much response, but I'll give it another shot. Here's one by request of DG:


It’s funny what you think about when you’re waiting for someone.
Since I’ve been waiting, I think I’ve decided that I’ve got a pretty good life.
Oh yeah, what am I waiting for? My wife. No, not for her to get ready.
I’m waiting to pick her up from work, like I do most nights.
Just sitting here in the restaurant parking lot.
So why do I have a pretty good life? Not because I’m rich.
Hell, I deliver pizzas and my wife is a coffee shop waitress.
We’ve got a car that runs, but we don’t even have a permanent address.
Everything we own is in the trunk or the back seat. But that’s okay.
We can afford to eat every day, and we’re basically free. Free to go
where, or do what’ we want. And that’s why life is pretty good.
Of course, none of it would be nearly as sweet without my wife.
Her name’s Tara. We met two years ago, when we were both 21.
We got married nine - no - ten months ago. Time flies when you’re having fun.
I first saw her when I was bumming around some RenFaire in Texas.
She was working a booth selling some jewelry she had made.
It was love at first sight, I guess, though I never really believed in that.
She was wearing a blue bandanna on her head, gypsy style.
She had shoulder length hair, light brown, or maybe dirty blonde you
could call it. She wore a white peasant blouse with flowers embroidered
on it, low-cut, but not too flashy. She had on a striped, flowing skirt,
and she had a ton of bangles on her wrists and ankles. She was gorgeous;
not in an airbrushed supermodel kind of way, but in a wonderful, pure and
natural way. Hard to describe, but you know it when you see it.
She was beautiful all over, but maybe her best parts were below
those ankle bangles. She was barefoot, and her feet were glorious to behold.
I’ve always been a guy who appreciated feet, and these were the best
I’d ever seen. Her ankles were slim and well-defined. Her heels were
nicely shaped. Her arches were just right; not too high and not too low.
Her toes were perfectly proportioned, and I could tell from the way they
spread out and grasped the ground that this was a girl who lived her life
barefoot. She didn’t have polish on, which was cool, because I like the
natural look. She had a couple of toe rings on each foot, and that was
really cool with me. I had to get to know this girl.
She batted her incredible blue eyes at me and said, “Hey handsome,
like to buy some jewelry for your girlfriend?” Stud that I am, I said,
“She’s already wearing it.” Then she melted like butter and was
overwhelmed by my charm.
Okay, not really. I wish I was that smooth. But, long story short,
I was at least charming enough to get her to invite me back to her campsite
that night. We talked for hours and really hit it off. I gave her a foot massage,
and she told me it was the best she’d ever had. Maybe she was just being polite,
but I am pretty good at rubbing the feet, if I do say so myself.
Then she said she had to get something from her tent. A minute later,
she called for me to give her a hand. I stuck my head in the tent, and she

was laying there totally naked, giving me a fantastic smile. I immediately
pitched a tent myself, if you know what I mean. I jumped to it, and it was
the most amazing sex I’d ever had. We did it three times that night,
though I thought I would have a heart attack after the last one.
It was just the first of many great nights (and days) of sex with Tara.
So anyway, shortly after that, she had had enough of the RenFaire
life for awhile. Since I had a car, we just started traveling around the country,
going wherever we felt like. We earned money by working odd jobs,
selling Tara’s jewelry, and occasionally panhandling. And the thing was,
Tara did it all barefoot. Nothing phased her. Rocks, gravel, hot asphalt,
even glass; she was amazing. We had been together for a couple of months
before it dawned on me that I had never seen her wear shoes, not even sandals.
I asked her if she even owned any. “Nope,” she said, with a sly smile.
That gave me a charge, let me tell you.
About a year ago, we were in Las Vegas, and that’s when we got
officially hitched. Tara was a barefoot bride, of course. Before we left
Nevada, Tara just had to explore the desert. Taking bare feet up against
scorpions, rattlesnakes, cactus, and blazing hot sand would be crazy, right?
Well I guess Tara’s crazy, then. That’s my barefoot girl.
Of course, everybody runs into snags in life now and then, and we
finally hit one three months ago. We had come to the Gulf coast, looking to
enjoy the beach for awhile. It was great, camping on the beach, making love
to the sound of the waves, life doesn’t get any better. Then, the transmission
on the car went out. It was going to cost about $1,500 bucks to fix.
We sure as hell didn’t have that sitting around. This was bad news.
We were going to have to get, gulp, regular jobs.
We found this coffee shop that was hiring. We went in and they
hired me to wash dishes. They were willing to hire Tara as a waitress,
but under one condition: she had to wear shoes and socks. The lady who
owned the place was cool, and she didn’t personally have a problem with
Tara’s bare feet, but she said there were workplace safety regulations
she had to follow. We might have been able to argue it, but we were
desperate, and we didn’t want to put the lady in an awkward spot if
something bad did happen.
When we left the coffee shop, Tara couldn’t hold back the tears
any longer. She had promised herself that she would never wear shoes
or socks again. I told her it was okay, she could look for something else.
She knew that the coffee shop was our best option at the moment, though.
We went back to the beach, and had some of our typical great sex.
She seemed to feel better after that. When she woke up in the morning,
she had come to a conclusion: she would wear shoes and socks for the job.
It broke my heart, but the practical side of me knew it was what she had to do.
First we got her a pack of socks. She didn’t even want to carry them.
We opened up the pack outside the shoe store, and she stuck a pair in her pocket.
The anguish on her face was painfully obvious, at least to me.

We went in the shoe store, and the employees kind of gave us strange looks.
I just made a comment about Tara breaking her flip flops.
Tara was too depressed to say anything.
Once she finally settled on a pair of shoes that was cheap,
but seemed to be comfortable, it was time to try them on. She pulled
the socks out of her pocket, and slowly pulled them onto her gorgeous feet.
A little part of me died watching those glorious wonders of nature slowly
become smothered in those fabric prisons. Then she put the shoes on,
and took a few steps. She was almost clumsy, since she was so used to
being able to feel the ground and grasp with her toes. She decided that the
shoes were okay, and then kicked them off immediately. As she stripped
off her socks, I breathed a little sigh of relief to see those toes I loved wiggling
their way to freedom from their cotton confinement.
Later that day, we went to work, and Tara managed to survive a full
shift in shoes and socks. They came off the second we were done, of course.
She was a trooper, but I knew she hated it.
A month ago, we finally got the car fixed, and I got a job delivering
pizzas, which paid a lot better than the dishwashing. Tara stayed on
at the coffee shop. Actually it was too bad, because Tara could have
done the delivery job barefoot, but she didn’t have a driver’s license.
We’ve decided we want to stay in the area, but we need to build up
a little more of a cash reserve. I’m determined to help the love of my life
get back to her natural state; barefoot 24/7. Hopefully, that’s going to happen
soon, but in the meantime, I’m waiting to pick her up from her shod job.
Oh, hey, she’s coming out now. I love this ritual. Not three feet
from the door, she nudges her shoes off with her toes. Then a couple of
quick yanks, and the socks are off. She stuffs them in the shoes, and walks
across the rough gravel in the parking lot. She flashes a big grin, partly
for me, and partly for her newly freed feet. She reaches in through the passenger
window, and tosses her shoes and socks into the back seat with a snort
of disgust. She hops in the car, and gives me a big kiss. She puts her feet
on the dash, wiggling her toes. “Damn! I fucking hate shoes!” she exclaims.
She says the exact same thing most nights, but I still love to hear it. I tell her
that I bought some sandwiches and soda at the convenience store. We can
both get food from work, but that gets a little old. I also picked up a couple
of lottery tickets. She gets a kick out of scratching them off, and one time
we won fifty bucks. I start driving, and she grabs a sandwich.
She leans against the inside of the door. I get nervous when she
does that if the door’s unlocked. It’s probably not as dangerous as not
wearing a seat belt, though, so what the hell. I don’t know how she can
look so sexy just eating a sandwich, but she does. She stretches her feet
out into my lap, her recently liberated toes seeking out my manhood.
She begins to stroke me through my jeans, and suddenly my pants are too tight.
“Just giving you a little head start,” she winks. She’s had a lot of practice
at this, and knows just how far to go. I’ve got to save something for her, right?

She finishes the sandwich, and grabs one of the lottery tickets.
She takes a coin from the ashtray and starts scratching it. It strikes me
funny the way her hand over the ticket and her feet over me are
moving in rhythm. Damn, it’s hard to concentrate on driving.
She finishes with the ticket, and tosses it on the floor.
“Sorry not a winner. Congratulations on pissing your money away!”
she laughs. She takes out the other ticket. Once again, she rubs the ticket
and me in perfect rhythm. Good, we’re here. I couldn’t pay attention to
the road much longer. I park the car. Her hand and her feet stop. I notice
she looks stunned. “What’s wrong, babe?” She looks at me, wide-eyed.
“We--just--won--five--million--dollars!” I look at the ticket.
Holy shit. I smile. My barefoot girl never has to wear shoes and socks again.

Thanks SC! This is one of my all time favourites, a true classic. Who wouldn't love to have a girl like her? A true dream girl!!!

Regards

DG