by Ella Ford
She shuffled forwards and knelt between my legs. “Have you ever had your toes sucked?” she asked, adopting an childish tone of perfect innocence that drove me wild.
“Never,” was all I could reply.
Samantha reached down and took hold of my right foot. She rested it on her lap and stroked the tips of her fingers up my lower legs to my knee. Her touch was electricity, every point of contact sent ripples of pleasure up my legs to my pussy and beyond. I’d never dreamed that such intense feelings could come from something as simple as being touched. She raised my leg, supporting it with her right hand and then slowly slid my stiletto heel off. She lingered over this, her eyes gazing intently at the shoe and foot as it emerged. I flexed my toes, enjoying the way that the sheer material of my stocking stretched around them, the way my painted nails showed through the thin gauze. This delighted Samantha, her face lighting up with a filthy smile as my toes danced for her. She raised my foot and inspected the sole, drawing a single nail up the soft flesh of my arch. I flinched at this, pulling back slightly and gasping.
Samantha held fast and shot me a look of admonishment. “Did I tickle you darling?” she purred, her former innocence lost in the teasing tones of pure seduction. I nodded, unable to speak now and willing her to continue. “Let’s see if I can make it better,” she whispered.
She raised my foot again, pulling it close to her mouth. I could feel the warmth of her breath on my sole as she lingered there. After an endless pause, she lightly touched my toes to her mouth, drawing them over her lower lip and studied my expression for a reaction. I reached behind me, grabbing the headboard of the bed and stared back at Samantha, my hungry expression speaking my consent.
My toes slowly disappeared between her moist, red lips and into her warm mouth. I gasped, my heart pounded. It felt wonderful.
I cannot stress this enough ladies. If you haven’t had your toes sucked yet then you really need to remedy that. It is hard to explain the sensation, a kind of warm wetness that encompasses your entire foot. It drove me wild, my pussy ached with every gentle flick of Samantha’s tongue. I moaned as she slowly pulled her tongue across my sole from the heel of my foot to the tips of my toes. I could see that the material of my stocking was wet with her saliva now. I longed to taste it myself, I longed to taste her.
She turned her attention to my left foot, repeating the slow process of removing my shoe and lightly teasing me with her fingertips. Without thinking, my hand fell to my pussy and my legs fell apart. I spread myself wide and began to massage my wet lips. As Samantha’s mouth took my toes once again, I found my clit and gently squeezed it between my index and middle finger. Muscle memory took over and I worked by touch alone, unable to take my eyes off the blonde at my feet. I felt an urge to step up the pace, to come for her, to display that utter pleasure that her skillful touch brought. But I held off, another task suddenly seemed more urgent.
I gently pulled my foot back from Samantha, rousing her from her deep trance. It was my turn to be predatory, and I sat up on my knees and leaned forward to her. I pressed my lips against hers once more, kissing her deeply and forcing myself into her mouth. Our tongues danced together for endless seconds, then I pulled back and pushed her back with a surprising force. I felt overwhelmed with my lust, desperate to devour this strange woman. She fell back on the bed, long legs spread out before her. I snatched her ankle and pulled her foot up to my breasts. She gasped at the ferocity of my action, yielding before me and spreading her legs apart to reveal her pussy. Her moist lips glistened in the dim light of the room, tiny drops of wetness clinging to the delicate hair of her neat thatch.
I held the sole of her foot against my breast, teasing my nipple with the soft material that encased it. The fleshy nub grew hard and sensitive as I brushed it. It throbbed with my desire. Samantha’s hands fell on her own breasts, kneading them with an urgency that betrayed her own passion. Finally, I could take no more and I raised her foot to my mouth.
I realised that from the very moment I saw Samantha, from the second my eyes fell to her delicate feet, I had wanted this moment. I’d longed to feel her on me, to taste her, to smell her. This uncanny attraction, this unfamiliar need, it all led to this pivotal action. I paused, studying the delicate foot inches from my face. The perfect line of her toes, the soft wrinkled skin of her sole, the swell of her heel. I plunged forward, pressing the foot over my mouth and nose. I inhaled deeply. Her aroma filled me, a warm musk, a subtle combination of her sweat and the leather of her shoes.
You’re probably thinking that it would be gross, but it really wasn’t. It was her in her purest form. My desire for Samantha rendered the pheromonal scent of her utterly irresistible to me. I wanted more, I wanted to experience all of her, to take her inside me and absorb what she was.
I rubbed the soft sole of her foot on my face, drowning in the sensations it elicited. I kissed her repeatedly, across her arch, her heel, each of her toes in turn. I could feel Samantha writhing beneath me, her hand frantically moving between her legs. Her eyes were clenched shut, her head rolled from side to side. She moaned with every rough kiss. I took her toes in my mouth, wrapping my lips around them and sucking hard to extract every flavor I could. She arched her back, inhaling suddenly.
I reached down and grabbed her other foot, holding it with the first and gazed at the perfect pair. Once again, I plunged my face between them and inhaled deeply. I thought I might come there and then, such was the intensity of my reaction. To have her so overwhelmingly on me, it was intoxicating.
Instead, I fell back onto the bed, still clutching her right foot in my hand. I positioned myself such that her foot lay between my legs, resting on my dripping pussy. I pushed myself onto it, pressing the heel onto my clit. With my own right foot, I stretched out between Samantha’s legs and forced myself against her pussy. I began to gyrate my ankle, rubbing the ball of my foot against her warm mound. She sensed me there and reached down, guiding my gyrations to her most sensitive area. She moaned loudly, flinging her head back as my stockinged foot pleasured her.
With furious determination, I began to rub Samantha’s foot against myself, lightly at first to find the rhythm, then slowly thrusting against the hard flesh of her heel. We writhed together, our pussies pushed against each others feet. Our moans fell into phase, the beat of our pleasure reaching a perfect resonance with the motions of our feet. I felt a spark within my pussy, a runaway feeling that cascaded upwards, igniting my body as it swept over me. I pressed harder against Samantha, keen to synchronise our ecstasy. She responded by gripping my stockinged foot harder, pulling it against herself and grinding her hips in time with my actions.
My breathing quickened. Short, sharp pants that fled from my body with every jolt of pressure on my clit. I quickened my pace, both with Samantha’s foot and my own. The waves of pleasure coursing through me intensified, an intolerable warmth that couldn’t be contained. I sensed my climax on the horizon and did not shy away from it.
It swept over me, pulling me along in an unstoppable deluge of pleasure. I screamed, and heard Samantha scream too. I pulled her foot against my pussy a final time, grinding her toes into me, mashing my throbbing clit as the orgasm intensified.
My body tensed, I threw my head back and moaned “Yes! Oh God yes!” From far away, I felt the pressure on my own foot peak as Samantha rammed it against herself. Her leg went hard, the muscles suddenly tightening to push her foot against me as her own orgasm took her. I felt as though I might lose myself in this endless surge, that the feeling might never abate. I didn’t care, I longed to be swept away in the waves that this woman had summoned. I held my breath, held my eyes tightly shut and rode it where it would take me.
Then it ended, releasing my body and casting me back to earth. I felt Samantha go limp, her foot still pressed lightly on my pussy. We collapsed to the bed, two spent casings, our rifles firing no more.
---
Later that night I lay beside Samantha, my head resting on her che
st. She was dozing lightly, her sleeping breath deep and regular. My hand lay on her breast, covering the soft nipple with my palm. I could feel her heart beat beneath her skin, a gentle rhythm that lulled me forwards towards sleep.
But I resisted, struggling to remain awake and savour every precious moment of this unexpected encounter. My mind toyed with the strange thoughts within it. I was lying with a woman, I had pleasured a woman, I had allowed myself to be pleasured by her. I remembered the hungry longing that had driven me forward, never stopping once to think about what any of it meant, what changes it might bring to my life. I had been focused only on her, the taste of her, her scent and touch. A human longing in the purest sense, the desire for another without thought of implication. I thought about her feet, her long legs in the soft stockings. Where had this come from? Had I always felt like this but never dared to face it? Did it matter?
I sighed and concentrated on the rise and fall of Samantha’s chest.
Chapter 3
The next morning, I rose early and dressed quietly. I needed to leave to go to work and didn’t want to wake Samantha, so decided to leave her a note. I pondered over the hotel note paper, wondering what to write. Eventually I settled on just my cell phone number. I wanted to see Samantha again, to explore these new feelings, but I didn’t know if this was just a vacation fling to her. My note would leave the ball in her court. Satisfied, I grabbed my coat and bag and left the hotel room.
The city was just waking up for the new day, so the streets were fairly quiet with very few people around. Even so, I felt slightly uncomfortable taking the subway home in my tight, black dress. I felt stares on me, sensed judgement from other people in my car. But I didn’t really care. As the ancient train car rattled onwards, I found myself drifting back to last night and the cornucopia of sensations that my body had discovered. I shuddered at the thought of Samantha’s deft tongue and her soft lips.
I found myself checking my cell phone every thirty seconds, hoping that she would text, fearing she wouldn’t. I’d tried to play it cool when I left the hotel room. No big deal, just one of those things. I tried to convince myself that I didn’t really care if she called or not. But my insistence was half hearted and dishonest. In truth, I longed to see her again, to continue this strange exploration.
My cell phone remained quiet.
I reached my stop and left the train, hurrying down the street to my block. I entered my apartment and took a quick shower, then changed into my work clothes. I was running late, so would need to take a cab back downtown. I called for a taxi and sighed as I noticed that I still had no text.
I scolded myself for my impatience, it had only been ninety minutes since I left the hotel room! Samantha probably wasn’t awake. I tried to take my mind off it by preparing for work.
Forty minutes later, I reached the office and relaxed into my tasks. I had a packed calendar that day, with back to back appointments and calls. I became lost in the normality of my job, the feelings from the night before sinking to the back of my mind as I went about my business. I thought nothing more of Samantha and the hotel encounter for the rest of the day. Then at four in the afternoon, my cell phone chirped and the screen flashed. A text!
The feelings that I’d held at bay came flooding back to the front of my mind and I fumbled to unlock my phone with trembling fingers. I found the message and blinked to focus on the words.
Free for dinner tonite? I was thinking Luigi’s at 9. S x
My heart pounded in my chest as I struggled to absorb the brief message. As I was reading it for about the twentieth time, my phone buzzed again and a new message arrived. This one simply said:
No panties x
Oh. Shit. I forced my hands to remain still enough to tap out a brief reply:
Deal x
I collapsed back into my chair, mind racing at the terse exchange. What did Samantha have in mind for me now? I longed to find out, not a single note of apprehension in my thoughts now. The day could not end quick enough.
---
Once again, I stepped out of a taxi onto the pavement. This time I had the presence of mind to pay the driver what I owed him and even managed to tip appropriately. I thanked the man and turned to inspect my destination.
Luigi’s was a popular Italian several blocks from Samantha’s hotel. I knew it well, and enjoyed the cozy intimacy of the decor and the warm welcome of the family that ran it. I felt a nervous rush of excitement as I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the windows as I approached the door.
It was a pleasant summer night, so I’d gone for a loose knee length dress with a colorful floral print. It was quite thin and cut low around my breasts, exposing an indecent amount of cleavage. I’d settled on wearing my hair down, pulling it to one side and letting it fall over my shoulder and chest.
I had considered keeping my legs bare, but decided on light stockings with nude heels. I’d seen the effect that my hosiery had on Samantha last night and didn’t want to risk losing that intoxicating magic.
As instructed, I was also wearing no panties. It felt strange to be so exposed around there, the light breeze of the summer night blew across my naked lips and chilled me pleasantly. I shuddered at the erotic thrill of complying with Samantha’s requests. It felt good to be led by her, to allow her to direct me for our mutual pleasure.
As I stepped into Luigi’s I immediately saw Samantha. She was seated alone at a table in the far corner. She hadn’t seen me yet, so I took an opportunity to gaze at her, to drink in her beauty and presence. It was her turn to wear a little black dress tonight. I admired the way that the tight material hugged her body and emphasised her chest. Her hair was braided in a tight ponytail that snaked across her shoulder. Her bare arms were folded in front of her as she studied the menu with an intense concentration. I wondered if she was nervous, if she feared that I might not turn up? She appeared superficially confident, sexually aggressive and used to getting her own way. Yet there was a vulnerability to her, a need for attention and approval. The two sides of her seemed at odds, yet their combination was mesmerising to me.
I was suddenly startled by a quiet cough to my side, “May I help you ma’am?” spoke the Maitre d’.
“Thank you, I’m meeting my, um, friend,” I stammered, pointing across the room to where Samantha sat. The man nodded politely and went back to his work. I walked across the restaurant and stopped in front of Samantha.
She looked up, momentarily startled and stood to greet me. We embraced stiffly, whispering brief hellos. I wasn’t really sure what to say, so quickly sat down. As Samantha also sat down, I caught a glimpse of her body. Her dress was very short, barely covering the tops of her black stockings. She tugged at it as she sat, wriggling it down her body and smiled at me. She was wearing open sandals, strappy with a high heel. She seemed unconcerned about wearing stockings with open toes. I didn’t disapprove, enjoying the sight of her painted toes through the thin material.
“You look lovely tonight,” she drawled in her thick southern accent, “I could eat you up.”
“Later,” I quipped, insanely proud of my confident grasp of lesbian banter.
She smiled warmly at me and glanced around the room. She lowered her voice and leaned forwards, “Did you follow my instructions?” Her eyes flicked downwards, her meaning obvious.
My heart was pounding at the thrill of her forthrightness, “Yes,” I breathed, “no panties.”
She smiled and sat back, studying the menu. “Should we order wine?” she asked, dragging my thoughts back to the small matter of actually being in a restaurant.
We ordered a bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon, which the waiter poured and Samantha tasted. She smiled her approval and he filled our glasses until they were half full. We each raised our glass and Samantha paused for a moment, thinking of the correct sentiment. “To exploration,” she finally said, satisfied that her toast fitted the mood. We touched glasses and I took a long sip of the rich wine.
As we drank, we fell into
a comfortable conversation. Each of us eager to find out more about the other. Samantha told me that she was from Atlanta, visiting New York on business. She was a PR executive and lived alone with her two dogs. My heart sank a little as she told me that she would be in town for just a few more days, but my spirits rose again when she said she came to New York often.
The waiter returned and we ordered our meals. I marvelled at the intricate instructions that Samantha gave for every aspect of her order. She wanted the soup warm but not hot, the bread should be fresh and soft, not hard and old. She wanted her pasta overcooked rather than undercooked, with not too much sauce and no pepper. The waiter struggled to keep up with her endless requirements and appeared relieved when I reeled off my order in five seconds flat. Samantha and I laughed as he walked away, then fell into a comfortable silence.
I finally dared to speak, “Y-you’re my first… woman I mean,” I blushed and stared at the table before me.
Samantha took my hand and squeezed it gently. “I hope you enjoyed it honey, I know I did.”
I nodded, “You have no idea.”
She smiled warmly, then let go of my hand. Her arms went below the table and she leaned forwards slightly. “I’m taking my shoe off,” she said matter of factly.
I considered this, nodding as she worked. My mind raced as I wondered what was going to happen. What was she going to do in this busy restaurant? She sat back in her chair and folded her hands in front of her. She smiled at me again and winked. I felt a soft touch on my leg, the briefest brush against my stockings. I shuddered.
