Pizza Girl 24 min read

My neighbor Edna and I decided we’d go grab a pizza at the best pizzeria in town, down by the square in the old center of the town. Since it was Sunday, a very young and cute girl was working. As far as I understand, she’s some kind of relative of the pizzeria owner. She only works on Sundays, so I used to take the opportunity to pick up pizza there just to get a sneak peek at her lovely body. The girl was a little over 1.60 meters tall with a flat stomach and beautifully shapely legs. She has a wonderfully shaped behind and nice breasts. Her face is very cute in a Southern European way, framed by her gorgeous black hair. Her black eyes are always bright and cheerful. She always wears a red shirt with the pizzeria’s logo and black, form-fitting pants that were a little long, with a hem that fell over the white sneakers she always wears. When we walked in, I saw that the girl had received a birthday card for her 20th birthday. As always, she greeted us cheerfully and warmly. I greeted her back and looked at her as I wished her a happy birthday in retrospect. She gave one of her sweet smiles and asked what we wanted. I ordered the house pizza, and Edna ordered a kebab pizza to eat there. I couldn’t help but stare at the cute girl as she brought out the salads, bread, cutlery, and everything else that was supposed to be there. Edna, of course, noticed my glances at the cute girl’s butt and chest. She giggled at me, but I couldn’t stop my eyes from following the beautiful pizza girl. Since I suffered from a fetish for women’s feet, I’d always been fascinated by how she managed to keep her shoes completely white, both on top and on the soles. She’d probably never even set her foot outside the pizzeria’s clinically clean floor while wearing them. I’d always wondered what it would feel like to be under the pizza girl’s feet. The closest I’d ever come was when she once picked up some beer and soda cans and dropped the empty cardboard box on the floor. Unfortunately, she never stepped on the box, and I got my pizza and left.

When the pizza girl brought our pizzas, I stuck one foot out from under the strangely shaped leg of the table. Somehow, she’d figured out that I’d been staring way too much at her shoes, and, yes, at the rest of her body as well. At one point, she’d noticed that I’d reacted when she stepped on a dropped napkin. To my delight, I felt a heavy, pleasant pressure against my foot. Instead of pulling her foot away and apologizing, the lovely girl simply leaned forward and set down Edna’s pizza, before placing my pizza in front of me. “Enjoy your meal,” she said, smiling at me. I thought she’d quickly step off my foot, but she stayed there for a few extra seconds before lifting the foot that wasn’t on top of mine, so her entire weight was pressed against me. Not that it hurt in the least; it was just surprising. I smiled at the cute girl as she trotted away from us with a big smile playing on her lips.

When we had finished eating, the girl walked over to us. I stuck my foot out in the same spot, not because I thought she’d step on it again. To my delight, I felt that same wonderful pressure on my foot. “Is everything to your liking?” the girl asked, as she pressed down on my foot with what must have been her full body weight. I smiled at her and said that everything was fantastic, then smiled at her with a knowing glance down at our feet. “Would you like anything else?” the girl asked. “No, just the bill. I guess we can’t get out of paying,” I replied. The girl giggled amusedly before gathering the plates and walking away. I couldn’t believe I’d gotten to be under that hot girl’s foot on two separate occasions. We paid and left, satiated and happy. Back at my apartment, I wondered how I could end up under the pizza girl’s feet without her sneakers on, I had no idea what her feet looked like. It had felt nice under her weight, but the aggressive pattern on the soles of her shoes wasn’t very comfortable against my foot. That night, I dreamed that both Edna and the pizza girl were tramping on me with old-fashioned rubber flip-flops of the softer kind. I was lying there being trampled on both from the front and the back at the same time, which was, of course, impossible. The pizza girl was a little heavier than I’d imagined, though she had a very pleasant way of trampling me with her just-the-right-size flip-flops. I still had no idea how I’d be massaged by her feet in real life. I’d probably have to settle to study her gorgeous young girl’s body when I was there on Sundays, but she had stepped on my foot, which was a bit unexpected. Maybe there was a tiny bit of her enjoying having something alive underneath her. In any case, she’d be wearing her gym shoes, and they weren’t exactly comfortable pressed hard against me.

The following Sunday, I had some other business at a store near the main square and arrived at the same time as the pizza guy and the pizza girl, who, for the occasion, was wearing a thin summer dress and flip-flops. I only caught a glimpse of her feet, so I didn’t have time to take much in before they disappeared into the pizzeria. When they opened at noon, I ordered a hamburger and used their restroom. Imagine my luck when I found the pizza girl’s flip-flops inside. I couldn’t help but pick them up and examine the moderately worn soles with clear imprints of her feet. Of course, I pulled out my phone and took a number of pictures of her flip-flops. The girl looked at me curiously as I came out of the restroom and sat down at an empty table, so I had a view of the entrance to their back area. That’s where I usually sit and sneak glances at her while she’s working. That day, she was bringing out freshly baked bread, and I stared, fascinated, at her round, sexy butt, but she caught me looking and flashed a teasing smile. If only she knew what I’d done with her flip-flops, not that I’d gone too far, but they certainly had brushed against a certain part of my body. I’m not sure, but I thought she might have wiggled her butt a little extra and jiggled her breasts as she walked back to the back of the restaurant. I still didn’t know how I was going to end up at her feet, and now I also wanted her to be wearing her flip-flops instead of those white sneakers. That day, we didn’t even come close to each other; she just handed me the hamburger and took my payment. She was standing behind the counter, so I couldn’t see much of her other than her cute face. She wished me bon appétit, and I made my way toward the door. I hurried home and finished my meal before pulling out my phone and scrolling through the photos of her flip-flops. I have to admit that I masturbated before falling asleep that night.

The following Sunday rolled around, and as usual, I headed down to buy pizza and check out the cute, pretty girl who worked there on Sundays. There was something strange about the whole atmosphere, and when I walked into the pizzeria, I noticed the power was out. I only had eyes for the cute girl. She came over and told me that nothing was working, which I’d already figured out. “So, no pizza today, then? Because even if the power comes back on, it’ll take a while to heat up the pizza oven, right?” I asked. “Yeah, it has to heat up for a few minutes,” the pizza girl replied in an irritated voice. Just then, the power came back on. The pizza girl tried to start the pizza oven, but it wouldn’t turn on. She let out a stream of words in a language I didn’t understand, though I assumed she was cursing. A little way up the wall was a switch that I assumed was some kind of ground fault circuit interrupter. “You’ll probably have to reset that,” I said, poking at the switch. The pizza girl stretched up and tried to reach the switch, but she was a few millimeters too short to push the button. As she stood on tiptoe, I put my foot under one of her heels. Unfortunately, she twisted her foot and missed me when she sank down. Before I had a chance to react, she pulled something out to stand on and stepped up onto it. Of course, I wished it was me she was standing on, but that wasn’t the case. She got the pizza oven going. I managed to get my right foot under hers and she stepped straight across it when she stepped down. She swore and apologized to me, but I said it didn’t matter. I ordered the house special and asked to pick it up in 45 minutes. The pizza girl nodded, and I left the pizzeria to come back later. I went home and pleasured myself while waiting for the pizza. When I came back to pick it up, both the pizza girl and the owner were there. They apologized that they couldn’t make the pizza, but I told them it was fine, it’s not your fault, after all.

An hour before the pizzeria opened the following Sunday, I drove up and caught sight of a heavenly sight. The pizza girl was getting ready to throw out some cardboard boxes for recycling. Since it was very hot, she was wearing a thin black summer dress and her worn flip-flops. I parked the car and approached the pizza girl, who was just then flattening the cardboard boxes under her flip-flops. Without being able to stop myself, I said, “Imagine how nice it would be to get a massage under your flip-flops, just the way those cardboard boxes get to experience it.” The pizza girl looked at me with a strange expression. “Have you ever lain under a pair of flip-flops?” she asked with an amused smile playing on her lips. “Yes, I have, and it was incredibly comfortable,” I replied. “I just thought it was my brother who was such an idiot that he wanted to lie under my feet,” said the pizza girl, smiling. “How can I get to lie under your flip-flops?” I asked, my heart pounding. “You’ll have to lie down once I’m done with these boxes,” said the pizza girl with a smile. I almost freaked out when I heard her reply. So, I was supposed to lie under her, and in flip-flops, no less. I never thought the pizza girl would ever finish flattening and folding the boxes. When the last box was finally flattened and folded up, the pizza girl came walking toward me. “Do you really want to lie under my flip-flops?” she asked with a big smile. “Yeah, of course I do,” I replied, my heart pounding. We went into the pizzeria, where I threw myself on the floor. The pizza girl walked around me, and to my surprise, she trampled on both my hands. Just as I’d suspected, she was a bit heavier than her short stature suggested, not because she had any unnecessary fat, but because her ass and breasts were as sexily shaped as they were. “I’m not going to step on you any harder than this right now,” the girl said, kicking off her flip-flops, which landed on my back. She then walked away from me. Feeling a little disappointed, I got up and picked up her flip-flops, which I placed on the counter. With a big smile, the pizza girl came back in and gave me a hug before sending me out of the pizzeria. I heard her giggle as she locked the door behind me. The real world hit me hard in the head when I hit the headboard and realized that I had dreamed it all and that it was time to go to the tiring and boring job. Somehow, I’d ended up with a wet spot in my crotch that was shaped exactly like the sole of one of the pizza girl’s flip-flops. I could almost feel the light stroke of the pizza girl’s lovely feet brushing against my groin. I had to force myself to get out of bed to change my underwear and wash up, and I still had no idea how I could get a massage from her feet and flip-flops.

The night after I had the most wonderful dream of my life when the pizza girl started taking short steps up my arms. You could tell it wasn’t the first time she’d done this. I really loved lying under her flip-flops as they gave my arm muscles a hard but nice massage. At the same time, I was afraid she’d would step up on my head. Standing up on my upper arms, she only took a slightly bigger step. She just stood on my shoulders. Gently and smoothly, she took a series of tiny steps down my body. I savored every step she took, even though she was a little heavier than I’d expected. Down by my feet, she turned around and walked all the way back up to my hands. I’d never in my life felt anything as wonderful as lying under the pizza girl’s feet and flip-flops. She stepped off, and I turned over so I was lying on my back, the spot she’d just massaged with the soft, flexible rubber soles of her flip-flops. She stepped up onto my chest and gave me a sweet smile. “Is it as nice underneath me as you’ve been longing for?” she asked as I watched her bare legs disappear up under her skirt. I just nodded, and the pizza girl’s feet gave me a wonderful massage on my chest. Thanks to her delightfully sexy figure and gorgeous breasts, she weighed a little more than I’d thought, and she completely flattened me in the most wonderful way I’d ever dreamed of. When she got off me, I sat up and gave her a hug. She then more or less kicked me out of the pizzeria. Unfortunately, I was awakened by real life, and I’ll probably never get to lie there and enjoy her feet and wonderful body.

I don’t know how the pizza girl figured out my fantasies about her wearing her flip-flops on her feet. Admittedly, my fetish fantasies had probably shown through. My thoughts had been racing, and I’d probably been staring at her feet a bit too much in those lovely pair of flip-flops I’d seen her wearing on a few occasions. This Sunday, she was the one who opened the front door. I got to admire her gorgeous butt as she walked ahead of me into the pizzeria. As usual, she was wearing the same clothes and shoes she always wore. Of course, I checked out her beautiful, alluring movements her sexy butt and slender figure made before she slipped behind the counter. “Hi, what would you like today?” she asked, glancing at me with a mischievous look. “I’d like something baked in, but not a calzone, something with more filling.” The pizza chef came in and greeted me. He immediately started making a pizza for me. But I didn’t know what would end up in it; it would be a surprise when I got home. I assumed it was the other stuffed pizza they usually made, but oh, how wrong I was, as it turned out. I realized that the two of them were up to something while they were making the pizza. The pizza girl glanced at me every now and then to make sure I didn’t notice what they were up to. They were up to something, and the pizza girl giggled every now and then while she stole glances at me. When the pizza was ready, the pizza chef put it in the oven. He baked it as usual, so I didn’t suspect anything out of the ordinary, but that was about to change. I sat there daydreaming, oblivious to what the pizza girl was up to. Without me noticing, she came over to me. I was jolted awake by a firm pressure on my right foot, after which my left foot was also pressed down against the floor in a heavenly way. The pizza girl smiled broadly at me as she handed me the pizza box. “Here’s a gift from me,” said the pizza girl with a loud giggle. She then stepped off my feet, and I saw that she was wearing her flip-flops. I didn’t have to pay for the pizza either. They rushed me out of there. When I got home, I opened the pizza box and got the shock of my life. Inside were two baked pizzas half the normal size. I cut into one of them, and to my utter surprise, there was something inside it that looked like a flip-flop. Of course, I took a bunch of pictures of them before I started cutting them up and eating them. They looked like regular pizzas, even though they were smaller than usual. I reminded myself to thank them, especially the pizza girl who had let me enjoy a moment under her feet and flip-flops. I never found out what the two “flip-flops” in the mini pizzas were made of, but they were edible and pretty tasty.

The pizza girl’s beautiful, welcoming smile pierced right through me, and I reacted like the man I am. I could see that neither the beautiful, petite girl nor the pizza chef could hold back their laughter over what they’d tricked me into last Sunday. “What can I get for you today?” she asked in a voice that was warmer than she usually used with their customers and bubbling with suppressed giggles. “You can make me an Emilia and pour me a beer, because I plan to eat here,” I replied. “I’ll take care of that,” she said as the pizza chef came in and greeted me warmly. I went and sat down at a table. A minute or so later, the pizza girl came over with a beer and a glass she handed over to me, after which, as usual, she began bringing out the salad and all the toppings that were in the fridge. She had to make four trips before everything was set out where the customers could help themselves. She then came back with a whole bunch of freshly baked bread. To my surprise, she took a piece of bread on a plate and walked over to me. I was even more surprised when I felt a fairly firm pressure against one of my feet. “As you saw when you were studying my figure, there’s some salad to be had,” she said with a giggle, without stepping off my foot. “I can’t stop sneaking glances at your wonderful appearance,” I said, embarrassed and with a bright red face. “No, I’ve noticed,” she said with a slightly dismissive snort. “I’m sorry,” I said, and she gave me a crooked smile in return. The pizza girl was still standing heavily on one of my feet, which I’d stretched out toward her. “There’s something else you like about me,” said the pizza girl, glancing down at the foot she was standing on. “Yeah, what you’re doing right now is absolutely wonderful,” I replied, embarrassed. Just then, several customers came in, so the pizza girl had to leave me. My foot throbbed slightly from being pressed down under her weight, but it felt different than the first time she’d stepped on my foot. I noticed she was wearing a different pair of shoes. They seemed to be some kind of indoor slippers with thin soles. I could feel the contours of the sole of her foot a little more clearly. I was sitting with the back of my chair against the wall, both feet free, waiting to see what the pizza girl would do when she brought my pizza. I saw her glancing my way. Not that I thought she had any idea of my thoughts about wanting to lie under her feet while she was wearing flip-flops. She was probably just reacting to my staring. Admittedly, she’d stepped on my foot when Edna and I ate there, and again just now. I was far too cowardly to even mention how wonderful it would have been to feel her not-too-heavy weight on my foot. I was sitting alone in the lower part of the pizzeria, while the others were upstairs on the second floor. I really hoped the pizza girl would fall into my trap and make things nice for me when she brought my pizza. And what a sensational delivery I got to experience. The pizza girl crept up in her quiet indoor slippers, and I felt her set her first foot down on mine. A millisecond later, her other foot pressed down as well, while she distributed her entire slight weight across my feet. “But you haven’t even poured the beer yet,” she said with an amused glance at me. Still standing on my feet, she grabbed the glass and the beer bottle; with a practiced motion, she poured the beer with just the right amount of head. “Bon appétit. I’m not going to have to stand here on your feet and feed you, am I?” said the pizza girl with a cackle that shook me to the core. “Do you know about my desire to enjoy being under your feet?” I asked, stammering. “I figured that out a long time ago, and it was confirmed when you were here eating with your female friend. And here I’ve been trying to hide my trampling fetish.” “Hide? Instead, you’ve been advertising it with the biggest billboards I’ve ever seen,” the pizza girl giggled cheerfully. She was interrupted when a hungry crowd came in, and she didn’t come anywhere near me again.

I suffered from my foot fetish, though my main goal wasn’t to be stepped on by the pizza girl, but just to look at her beautiful curves during the few minutes it took to make the pizza or hamburger. My great passion for girls’ feet in flip-flops made me want her to wear them, but she wore her white sneakers while working, so the only chance I had to see her in flip-flops was before they opened. I couldn’t go there every Sunday to see if she was wearing her flip-flops when they arrived. I was way too chicken to ask her if I could see her in them. The young woman had, after all, figured out that I liked her flip-flops and her feet, which I found sexy. For the next couple of Sundays, there were so many people that I couldn’t watch her in peace. I could only sneak a peek at her when she walked up or down the stairs to the floor above. She had a habit of skipping the last two steps. Her gym shoes made a sound when the soles hit the floor that turned me on. At the same time, her lovely breasts swayed in a wonderful way. It would have been even more delightful to see her do that in flip-flops, though it was unlikely that would ever happen. The following Sunday I was alone, so when the pizza girl asked what I wanted, my mouth ran away with me before my brain could stop me. “I’ll have the house special and I’ll buy your most worn-out flip-flops,” I said, realizing at the same time what I’d said. The pizza girl gave me a strange look. “What do you want with my flip-flops?” she asked with an amused twinkle in her eyes. “I want them so I can dream about your beautiful curves and sacred feet,” I replied, embarrassed. “Oh, come on, you just want to use them as sex toys,” said the pizza girl in a matter-of-fact voice. “Admittedly, but I’d never admit that to you,” I said, blushing. “What are they worth to you?” she asked, amused. “What do you want for them?” I asked timidly. “You can buy a new pair of the same kind,” said the pizza girl, glancing at me. I had pictures of them, so I knew exactly what kind they were. “Okay, I’d be happy to do that by next Sunday,” I said, my heart pounding. “Okay, we have a deal,” said the pizza girl with an amused smile. I got my pizza and hurried out of the pizzeria to eat it and find a pair of flip-flops. I knew which store had sold them, so I rushed there and bought two pairs. I knew her size, and I figured I’d keep one extra pair at home and give her a pair.

I thought long and hard about how I wanted the flip-flop swap to happen. I wanted to be near, or under, her sexy feet, so I came up with the idea that she would sit on a chair with me lying underneath it. She would put her wonderful feet up, still wearing the old pair of flip-flops. She would take off the old pair, and I would replace them. She would then slip her sexy feet into the new pair of flip-flops while I enjoyed the contact with her feet. I hesitated a bit, turning the idea over and over in my mind, but it was the best way to swap the sandals. I could enjoy the pizza girl’s feet, while she wouldn’t have to degrade herself by stepping on me. The only question was how I would convince her to do it that way. She had “accidentally” stepped on my feet every now and then, so maybe she wasn’t entirely opposed to having me under her feet for a while. When Sunday had finally rolled around, I knocked on the door to the pizzeria’s outdoor seating area. With a broad grin, the pizza girl came over and let me in. Embarrassed and feeling quite unsure of myself, I greeted her and received a casual hug in return. “Do you have a new pair of flip-flops for me?” the pizza girl asked with a giggle. “Yes, I do,” I replied, taking a few steps into the pizzeria. With my face bright red, I explained how I wanted the exchange to go, which the pizza girl agreed to, though she wanted me to be shirtless. I quickly slipped off my T-shirt and crouched down by a chair. The pizza girl circled around me a few times before setting her sights on my bare chest. With a light caress from one of her feet, she sat down on the chair and placed both feet on my chest. It felt really good to have her worn-out flip-flops against my skin. I savored the caresses as she wiggled her toes out of the two Y-shaped straps, causing the soles to rub gently against me. She then placed the bare soles of her feet against me. I took my time replacing the old pair with the new ones of the same brand. Their soles had a sharper pattern, since they were brand new. The pizza girl took her time and let me feel the weight of her legs against my chest. She then remained seated for a while, so when she moved her feet, the soles scraped against my skin by a few millimeters before releasing. The pizza girl giggled when she saw the two marks left by the new soles. Suddenly, she shifted her weight and, without warning, stood up. I groaned, caught off guard by her body, which weighed about 50 kg. The pizza girl stood there on top of me for a minute before hopping down to the floor. It was the first and only time I felt her full weight on me.

The end