textfiles/sex/EROTICA/S/swedish.txt

	There was a tall Swedish girl in my high school class.
Actually, her parents were Swedish, but she was born in the states and
so they gave her the un-Swedish name of Lauren.  Her height made her
appear somewhat aloof.  She always wore a pair of brown, wooden high
heel clogs with heels about three inches high so she towered over us.
What I loved about those clogs was how they exposed the naked heels of
her feet since she always wore them barefoot.  When she walked, the
high heel clogs provided delicious glimpses of the arches of her feet.
The heels on her clogs weren't that high, but they were high enough to
accentuate the calves of her feet.

	However, the best thing about her high heel clogs was how easy
they were to take off.  Eventually, some of the guys grew bold enough
to tease her about her clogs by sneaking up behind her and kicking one
of them so that it would fly down the hall.  Whenever this happened,
she'd whirl around and glare ferociously at the offender till he
shrunk away.  Then, she would reach down for the remaining clog and
walk barefoot with great dignity to retrieve her other clogs.  Walking
bare foot with one clog in her hand, she was a breathing angel.

	Her feet were large, yet also slim and well shaped.  Although
her toe nails were well trimed, she did not wear nail polish.  She was
a statuesque beauty who was out of my reach.  I could only hope to
worship at her feet, and I would be content to do so.

	By a stroke of good fortune, I happened to be at the opposite
end of the hall when some jock kicked her clog and it came sailing
toward me.  With child-like eagerness, I bent to pick up the clog,
with my back toward Lauren.  I gently held the clog with both hands,
caressing the brown leather and wood.  I slid my fingers down the
luxuriously padded insoles to the inner depths of her clog.  The
pungent smell of leather mixed with sweat wafted toward my nostrils
and I breathed in deeply as if I could fill my soul with the essence
of her clog and foot.

	I arose reluctantly, turned around, and walked toward Lauren.
She smiled sweetly as I handed her clog back.  She quickly slipped
into her clogs.  As she turned to walk away, she quietly said thank
you.  I stood there listening to the clomping sound of her clogs that
always made my senses come alive.

	I had several classes with Lauren and after my clog rescue
incident, we exchanged hello's.  Being in the same class with Lauren
was both a blessing and a curse.  I was always driven to distraction
by her clogs and what they concealed.  Sometimes I sat behind her,
other times, a little bit off to the side.  However, I always made sure
I had a good view of her clogs and her naked heels.  My vigilence was
usually rewarded by tantilizing peeks of the arches of her soles.
When she was bored, she would sometimes absent-mindedly move a foot in
and out of its clog, rubbing the bottom of her feet against the clog's
arch, which was accentuated by the height of the heel.  When I was
very lucky, she would cross her legs and casually swing one clog up
and down with her toes.  This action would nearly expose the entire
arch of her foot and I was completely riveted.

	The second time I was on the receiving end of a clog kick, I
was much bolder.  When she was before me, I knelt down and offered the
clog to her bare foot.  She grew wary, but gracefully extended
her foot so that I could slip on the clog.  When I reached up for the
other clog, she laughed quietly as she handed it over.  I slipped the
other clog on her remaining bare foot and stood up.  She smiled warmly
and said thank you.  The clomping sound of her clogs echoed in my soul
as she walked away and I was thrilled to have served her.

	Lauren took more notice of me in class and I was almost sure
that she caught on to the fact that I was fascinated by her high heel
clogs and her feet.  She took more opportunities to play with her
clogs and give more exposed glimpses of her bare feet.  Needless to
say, I was in heaven.

	The third time I saw her clog fly by me, I felt more cocky as
I retrieved her clog.  I was already kneeling down when she approached
me.

	"We have to stop meeting like this," I said in an bad attempt
at humor.

	"It's almost as if you plan this," she said, unfazed.

	By that time, she was already slipping her foot into the clog
I was holding.  I boldly cupped her naked heel as if I were innocently
helping her.  She stiffened slightly, but handed me the other clog
when I reached up for it.  Again I cupped her heel, but this time I
slid my other hand up the vamp of the clog so that my fingers grazed
the top of her foot.  She was taken aback by my boldness and stared at
my blankly for a few moments when I stood up.  I smiled warmly and
slowly, a look of intrigue crept into her face.  She regained her
aloof composure and told me that she was having a bit of trouble in
math and would appreciate some assistance.  I eagerly offered my
services and inquired where we might study.  My heart lept when she
mentioned her house.

	It turned out that both her parents worked until the evening
so the house was empty.  In retrospect, it wasn't a risky thing for
Lauren to bring invite me to her home alone.  She had sensed that I
was wrapped around her little finger and was a little puppy dog in her
hands.  When we arrived at her house, she told me I would have to take
my shoes off so as not to track in dirt from outside.  I complied
without hesitation.  Lauren slipped off her high heel clogs and put on
another pair just like them.  She explained that she had an indoor
pair and an outdoor pair.

	We went into the living room study and actually studied for
about an hour.  Eventually, she sat back and placed her high heel
clogs on the wooden coffee table.  As if by habit, my eyes immediately
fixated on her clogs and feet.

	"I see you like to admire my clogs," she said suddenly.

	My face turned red and I grew flustered.

	"Well I admire the way you walk so gracefully in your high
heel clogs," I said weakly.  I didn't mention that I also wanted to
ravish her feet.

	"They're not that high," she said, almost defensively.
"Anyway, it's not that hard to walk in them and they're actually very
comfortable.  I bet you could do it."

	Now there was a thought.  I had always wondered what it would
be like to wear her high heel clogs and feel the soft leather that
carried her delicious feet every day.

	"Since you're so short we must wear about the same shoe size.
Why don't you try it?", she suggested coyly.

	I protested vehemently, mainly because I was insulted by her
reference to my height.  Our arguing reached such a feverish pitch
that she finally stood on top of the coffee table, clogs and all, and
demanded that I at least try them on once and that it was no big deal
since no one was around.  Well, how could I resist when my object of
desire was standing on the coffee table in front of me in her high
heel clogs, demanding that I obey her will.  My resistance withered
away to nothing.  Sensing that, Lauren beckened my to follow her to
door where her outdoor clogs lay.  She impatiently gestured for me to
take my socks of and I meekly obeyed.  She then knelt down and offered
the high heel clogs to me like I had done in the hallway.  She even
cupped the back of my heels with her hand.

	The clogs were wonderful.  The padded insoles felt luxurious
and the height of the heels created a padded arch that pressed
deliciously against the soles of my feet.  Best of all, I now towered
over her and felt bold and daring.  I was wearing shorts that were
rather clingly and I knew my erection was a prominent tent pole,
pushing against the tight fabric of my shorts.  I proudly stood there
with my feet slightly apart, my hands on my hips, and my cock
straining for release.

	"All it takes is a pair of high heel clogs, and you turn into
a little tiger," she said with a sly look.  "Speaking of little
tigers..."

	Still kneeling, she suddenly reached up and grabbed my balls
aggressively.  I gave a help of surprise, which pleased her greagly.
In a flash, she work my shorts down to my knees so I was immobilized.
With one hand, she gently caressed my balls in a curious way.  With
the other, she lightly stroked the length of my cock.  When I groaned
with pleasure, she increased the pressure.

	She was excited, but very much in control.  She calmly
explained to me that she had read about guys with shoe fetishes in
Everything You Wanted to Know About Sex (but were afraid to ask).
Apparently, her parents were too embaressed to explain to her about
the birds and the bees so they left that book lying around where she
would find it.  Just wait till you get to the section about foot
fetishes, I thought wickedly.

	She continued by saying she was surprise to learn that I had a
clog fetish even though the heels on her clogs were somewhat high.
Great, I thought to myself, I'm her little science experiment.  Her
long, excruciatingly slow strokes were driving me crazy.  When I
whimpered with impatience and frustration, she stopped suddenly,
looking at my engorged cock thoughtly.  Finally, she took off one of
her clogs and began to rub in over my dick.  I came in body shaking
spurts as she was rubbing my cock vigorously against the padded insole
of her high heel clog.