It's my birthday. I'm 19 years old today.

I'm going out tonight and I don't have a curfew. Dad is always crazed about curfew, but I've only missed it once, and that was back in ninth grade. He took the door off my room, took every electronic I own away from me, and wouldn't let me do anything except go to school and come home ... for three months. I think I read every book in the house during those 90 days.

I guess I learned the lesson. I never violated curfew ever again.

He bought me a pretty dress for my birthday.

I think Stella, his secretary, picked it out. She's got great taste. It's very classy, with a sheer top, but wonderful textures in the right spots. The skirt is short enough to make me happy and long enough to make dad happy. There are pearls on it. I might wear it more than once. It would be hard to take it to the consignment shop, I love it so much.

We finished my birthday cake and presents after dinner tonight while I was wearing my Harvard sweatshirt and "Pink!" sweatpants. Now, staring in this full-length mirror wearing this dress, I think I look like an adult and not a kid anymore. I'm wearing pearl earrings, a pearl necklace, and a pair of shoes my stepmother's brother Edward made.

He's a cobbler and makes all my shoes. Edward started bring me hand-made shoes even before Laynie married my dad. I had three different pairs just for the rehearsal dinner.

Most girls have a lot of cheap shoes, because you know they'll go out of fashion. But my closet is filled with the best shoes you can imagine. Edward makes them for the whole family, and he's an artist. They're the best quality and the best designs. Ever since dad married my step mom, people have been admiring my feet. Last year, dad refinished the attic just so Laynie and I would have a place to put our shoes. My friends who have size six feet like to come over and borrow mine.

And the girls with big feet are insanely jealous.

The shoes I'm wearing tonight match my birthday dress perfectly.

I'm starting to think nineteenth birthdays are a rip-off. I can already vote and be in porn movies. But I won't do either of those. I can't drink legally yet, so what's the big deal?

My fake ID will come in handy tonight.

Brenda wants me to go with her to Darian's apartment.

We're riding in her mom's Mercedes and I want to cruise around. Go downtown. We always get a lot of attention in this car, but I know what she really wants to do.

"Let's just go downtown," I say.

Brenda isn't going to do what I want her to do, even if it is my birthday. "I want to go to Darian's, just for a little while. I promise we'll only stay for an hour."

I pout.

She really plans to have sex with Darian while her parents think she's out with me. He's older than us and she hasn't told her mom and dad about him. In fact, she hasn't told her parents about her last five boyfriends. I think she has issues. She always picks older guys; she always ends up asking me to have threesomes because she's too scared to do it with them alone; and then, of course, the guys want to keep doing it with both of us and she gets mad and says they don't care about her.

It's good for me, but terrible for her.

Most of the girls we know aren't very adventurous, but Brenda and I have done everything. She's embarrassed by it all, and I love it all. I think she's a nympho who can't admit it, and I'm a regular girl who doesn't mind some crazy sex now and then. I love giving blowjobs and she hates it. I like having sex with her, but she thinks it's wrong.

Luckily, the last guys she's met are much better in bed than the high school boys we used to taunt. But her new boyfriends never keep her for very long.

And she's doing it all over again with Darian.

I'll have a great time and she'll be miserable within two weeks.

Outside of Darian's apartment, we take turns drinking out of a wine bottle she lifted from her parent’s cellar. It would probably be good wine, if we were drinking it the right way, but we're chugging it. I'll probably end up driving home because she gets drunk easy.

We get out of the car and our heels clip-clop across the asphalt parking lot and up the wooden stairs leading to Darian's condo. I feel really good in my dress, and I'm carrying the bottle with the last bit of wine in it. Brenda is wearing a club outfit. It's kinda shiny with really short pants and a tank top. She wore it under her clothes when she left her parents house and stripped down to this while driving over here.

I think she looks darling, but she’s worried she looks ugly.

Darian opens the door before Brenda knocks.

"Hey baby." He’s all smiles.

He's wearing a pair of khaki shorts and that's all. He gives Brenda a long, long French kiss and she puts her open hand against his chest. It's a good, romantic kiss. The kind they put on the cover of romance novels.

I taught Brenda how to kiss.

We were both virgins back then. I'd learned how to kiss from my stepbrother. He's off in college now, but when my dad married his mom four years ago, we were both kind of interested in each other. We used to make out for hours after school. He always wanted to touch my breasts, but I wouldn't let him. He ended up with a girlfriend his own age who taught him how to be a better kisser and he taught me. We'd lay on my mattress in the afternoons, and I could feel the weight of his body against mine. We'd kiss really slowly and barely touch tongues. Our breath would mingle. I would moan a little. I loved his tongue sliding sweetly along my lower lip. He'd nibble on my ears and whisper into my ears.

"Do you like feeling my hard cock against you?"

I could feel him pressing down on me and I liked feeling that hard bulge inside his pants against my body, but I couldn't bring myself to say it.

So I knew a lot about kissing when Brenda and I started hanging out. In fact, I might have been the one to awaken the nympho inside of her. The first time I kissed her on the lips, she cried. The second time, she wouldn't stop.

She always wanted me to be on top. She needed somebody strong to direct her. Eventually, I turned her into a really good kisser. We actually started having sex last year, when we were both eighteen.

Our bodies feel so good when they're intertwined with each other. She's so soft and has nice big breasts ... way bigger than mine. I like feeling her arms around me, her legs pulled up tight against my ribs, and her feet on the back of my thighs. She always wants me on top because I think she likes my long brown hair hanging down in her face. And when we sixty-nine, I love pushing my pussy down onto her face. She kisses me, licks me, sucks on my clit, and puts her fingers inside me. Sometimes she makes me so crazy I come on her face.

I squirt a little bit.

She's afraid of becoming a lesbian, though. I think it's all for fun, but she worries. I think that's part of the reason she’s been through so many men in the last few months.

Darian's bedroom is a mess, and nobody cares except me. He's lying back on the bed. Brenda is kissing him so passionately and sneaking peeks at me as I unbutton his shorts. I pull them down a little, grab the top of his boxer shorts, and pull everything off. His legs are kinda hairy, and his cock is gi-nor-mous. He's completely hard and the veins are standing up all over his shaft. His cock head is purple, but it's perfectly formed and I find it mesmerizing.

I hold onto his balls and run my tongue slowly all the way up his member.

They're both watching me as I close my eyes and take his huge cock into my mouth. I slide it further and further back into my throat in little pulsating motions, because I love feeling a cock almost, but not quite, gagging me. I keep my eyes closed because I don't want to feel like I'm giving a performance for my two-person audience. I want to suck this big dick, take it down as far as I can, get it so wet and hard he can't hold back his cum. His huge monster is the kind of unit I imagine I'll remember the rest of my life.

So I want him to remember me too.

Brenda thinks sucking on cocks is gross. For me, I love being in control of a man. This is the fifth guy Brenda and I have worked together, and every time they seem so happy and so out of control at the same time. I love it when they orgasm and can't stop giggling. I even love having cum in my mouth, but I learned I don't like to swallow. It sticks in my throat and makes me puke. I spit it out down my chin and play with it while it oozes down my nipples.

Brenda's interrupting me.

She's swung her leg over Darian and she's sliding down to fuck him.

Her legs are a little thick and her butt is kinda big, so she skootches her way down to Darian's penis. She reaches behind her and almost shoves a finger into my nose. She grabs his amazing cock and aligns his purple head and begins to wriggle her way onto him. I like watching cocks go into Brenda's pussy. I've spent so much time eating her, I sometimes think I'm in charge of her, and this is my way of giving her a treat. Watching her really fuck a guy is way more fun than shoving her purple dildo in her. I also know she fakes orgasms with her men sometimes.

She's riding him and panting and he's bucking her up and down so violently I don't dare put my face and hands near them. Her toes are pointed and her feet are rounded and her calves are tight as rocks. I sit back on the carpet and lean against the wall.

If this were a scene in a movie, I'd be smoking a cigarette.

Still in my pretty dress, in a crummy condominium, in a dirty bedroom, I'm sitting here watching my best friend fuck. I want to fuck him too. I wonder if I can handle him without freaking out. I'll have to wait for next time, though. She always hogs them to herself on the first time after she gets over being afraid. She won't care if I fuck him next time, in fact, she kind of sees me as a gift she can give to her boyfriends to make them love her even more. She makes funny groaning noises. He rolls her over and pulls her legs apart even farther. He wedges his knees underneath her and screws her hard and fast while he holds her ankles up around his ears. From behind, I can see his balls slapping up against her. I bet they feel good.

She has her first orgasm. Then a second. Then a third. The third one is always the biggest with her. If they're real, she's having a great time.

Then he pulls out and comes on her stomach.

They're happy.

I'm miserable.

"Let's go again." Brenda will be able to keep him to herself all night.

"I'm gonna go, you guys."

"Why don't you stay and party with us?" Darian wants to do two nineteen-year-olds on the same night, but I know Brenda better than he does.

"I don't feel very good."
"How will you get home?" Brenda doesn't want me to drive her mom's car without her in it.

"Um," I really haven't thought about how to escape, "Oh, Edward only lives six blocks from here. I'll go over there and he'll give me a ride home."

"Are you sure?"

I'm sure.

Out in the late night air, I can still taste and smell Darian's cock, and the image of him slapping against Brenda keeps playing in my mind. They'll be at it until dawn.

I like walking outside at night. The atmosphere feels heavier, safer, more personal. I'm taking the path around Ricket's Reservoir. I shouldn't walk by myself out here at night, but I don't want to walk on the sidewalk all the way to Edward's. Going this way, I can take off my shoes and carry them dangling down from my fingers and feel the wet grass between my toes. I hope I don't step on goose poop, or something sharp in the dark. I'm pretty sure I'm alone because the crickets are chirping. The stars are watching me anyway. And the moon. It's almost full and I guess I feel a little crazy because of it. I can hear myself breathing.

On the other side of the reservoir, I cross Scurvy Boulevard. It's the only major street in the area and I probably look pretty funny running around carrying my shoes in a party dress out here. I'm crossing in a crosswalk and the cars' headlights make me feel like a movie star.

Somebody honks.

"Show us your tits, baby!"

I walk on as if I don't hear it, but I wonder what would happen if I actually did it. It would be a great memory, but for some reason, I just keep moving forward.

Edward owns a crummy little house with a big barn in the back. He doesn't take care of either of them. The inside of the barn is filled with his work. As I walk down the street, I see all the lights in the house are turned off. He might be out, but I doubt it. I've never known him to do much except work. I walk down the dirt driveway overgrown with weeds into the back and hope I'll find him in the workshop.

"Edward?" I'm knocking and turning on the knob to the barn. The door creeks open and I peer inside. The smells of leather, and machinery, and wood waft toward me out of dim light. "Edward? It's Fionia."

"Fionia? What are you doing here?"

I finally see Edward at a workbench toward the back with a single bulb burning in a lamp. He's wearing his magnifying glasses and his cobbler apron. I've always told him he looks dorky wearing those, but he persists. If you couldn't see his project, you might think he was a jeweler cutting expensive rocks into precious gems, but instead he turns rivets, and straps of leather, and sanded heels, into magic.

"Brenda ditched me to hang out with her boyfriend, so I thought I'd come see you."

"Always nice to be second choice. You're sure dressed up. Oh wait, it's your birthday tonight." He glances at my feet. "Why aren't you wearing them?"

"I walked through the reservoir. I didn't want to trip."

"Do you like them?"

"Of course I do. You know I wouldn't wear any other designer. But these are sexy and not useful for walking through the mud in the dark."

"Sexy or useful."

Edward and I laugh. He's been asking me the same question ever since I've known him. "Do you want a sexy pair of shoes, or a useful pair of shoes?"

I've never once told him I wanted a useful pair.

"Well, let's wash your feet and you can try on a pair I've nearly finished for you. Unless you want me to drive you home or something."

"Nah, I'd love to see the new shoes. Do you have any more beer?"

I rummage through Edward's shop refrigerator and find some of his fancy micro-brew beer and flop onto the old corduroy couch. He brings me a warm, soapy bowl of water and the new shoes. When Laynie first started dating my dad, we met Edward and he used to wash my feet before shoe fittings. It weirded me out back then, but now I like it.

He kneels in front of me and begins to make me feel feminine.

“I have another birthday present for you.” He holds up a toe ring and we both watch it sparkle in the slanted light. He slides it onto my fourth toe on my left foot.

“Does that mean we’re married now?” I tease.

“Sure. We married upside-down.”

I take a long draft out of the beer bottle and love the way the scent of the leather accentuates the hops in the beer. The only lamp Edward used at his worktable casts dramatic shadows around the room.

I look down my shadowy legs and notice something I've never noticed before.

Edward is washing my toes, and my feet, and my ankles, with a holy reverence. He's almost worshipful as he cleanses and massages me. I don't think I'm that tipsy or that horny to be getting the wrong idea.

He's hot for my toes.

How can I let him know it's okay without scaring him?

He's older than me, but I’ve noticed before he’s attractive. He's Laynie's younger brother and she's a lot younger than my dad. Edward's nerdy side is kinda cute and his body is in good shape. I always wondered why he never married. I am so thankful I scheduled my pedicure before my birthday, because my toenails look wonderful with the shooting stars stenciled onto them. They're ready for a cosmic adventure.

The subtlest move I can make is to rub my toes together. He watches my feet touch and I see him smile before glancing up at me, shocked.

"It's okay." I'm whispering it and smiling uncontrollably.

His eyes glaze over and he returns to my feet. He’s shaking a little. He takes my right foot into his hands like a sparrow’s egg and gently raises it up. He stares at my toes, letting the light play with the shadows, and then ever so gently, he kisses each one. His right hand drops down and adjusts something in his jeans.

This is really happening.

He kisses, then nibbles, then sucks, then devours each toe on each foot. He's methodical and so content. His tongue encircles each toe and the heat in my body rises, watching him at the end of my legs.

I hike my skirt up a little and let my legs spread apart. I'm wet inside my panties and I want to touch.

Edward is gyrating and rubbing himself and I find myself doing the same and matching his rhythm. A tiny bead of sweat drips down his forehead and drops onto my ankle. I watch it roll around and off the back of my calf. I have to kiss him. I bend up awkwardly and stretch my legs into crazy contortions and pull his face toward mine. My feet and legs are folded up between us and he runs his wet hands wildly all over them. Our kiss is messy and violent and nothing like the pretty kisses I give Brenda.

I know I want more of this wildness.

I pull off my panties and fight my way out of my dress. Edward is of no help. He's so busy trying to swallow my feet I'm afraid he's going to choke. He also seems to be loving watching me squirm. I don't care if it's embarrassing; I need to be nude right now. I want to be exposed to him and give him anything his fetish desires. All those years of people telling me I have pretty feet is finally going to mean something.

He kisses his way up my legs and lands on my pussy like a shark. He's eating me wild and I can barely sit still. I slap my feet on his back and pull them all the way up to his head. I love feeling his tongue driving deep down inside me and the stretching acrobatics of giving him my feet takes me to a higher level. I didn't know it could be like this.

He pulls me violently down the couch and forces my ass into the air. I'm on my shoulders with my butt in his face and my legs flailing loosely in the air. He's licking my ass and I'm digging my fingers into my pussy.

I come.

And I come.

And I come with a tiny squirt.

It's a mess. He doesn't care and I want more mess.

I force my way out of his hold and lick my cum off his face. I push him back and tear him out of his clothes. I want him to leave his apron on, but he pulls it off in the frenzy. His cock has the craziest left turn I've ever seen. It's the right size, but it's headed somewhere I've never been. I lay Edward back onto the couch and saddle up to him. I put my feet around his cock and rub them up and down. He's paying no attention to me, staring at the miracle of my size sixes stroking his shaft. I can feel him getting harder and bigger with each pass of my toes.

I have to know.

I have to know if that crooked cock feels different from a straight one.

I climb aboard Edward and ride him like a cowgirl. We're face to face, both amazed at how the evening has turned out. I've pulled my feet up to his face so he can be close to his precious objects of lust. The entire weight of my body is sitting on his curvy cock and I'm loving him. I've kissed my step brother, I've turned my best friend into a lesbian, I've given a bunch of old guys I don't even know blow jobs, and now I'm screwing my step uncle. As the orgasms rise and fall inside of me and my muscles spasm uncontrollably, I realize I might be some kind of high-class trailer trash, or maybe I've been looking for this moment all along.

All those fancy shoes were a message.

Be at peace.

There's a place for everyone.

Edward pulls out of my throbbing pussy and he spasmodically covers each of my feet with his cum. He fills the air with his happy groans of satisfaction.

I feel a tear drop down my face. I've found my people. I've found my calling.

My toes have found their calling.

Originally published April 2009