by Ella Ford
Once again, I felt her foot slide up and down my calf, lightly caressing my leg. Samantha never took her eyes off me, never once betrayed her actions. I sighed at the pleasant feeling of our legs rubbing together, felt myself becoming aroused in yet another new way. There was a thrill to this that I had never encountered before. A secret thrill between the two of us, one that people mere feet away from us had no idea of. I struggled to remain calm as my body tingled with every touch. I forced a smile back at Samantha.
Suddenly, her foot passed my knee and pushed between my legs to caress my inner thigh. She eased it forward inside my dress and onwards to my pussy. She sunk into the chair slightly, nibbling on her index finger with an air of total innocence. I pushed forward in my own seat to reach her, keen to feel her touch on me.
I gasped as her pointed toes pressed against my pussy. A pulse of pleasure ricocheted around my body as the warmth settled there. I fought to remain quiet and calm, fearing that our secret interaction would remain secret no longer. I inhaled and took a sip of my drink. As the glass reached my lips, Samantha clenched her toes and pressed on my clit. I gasped and nearly spilled the wine. She grinned at me with obvious amusement. “Sorry,” she smiled, clearly not sorry at all.
I set my glass down and focused on her face. Her toes continued to knead between my legs, flexing as she probed me. I squeezed my thighs together around her foot as she worked, eager to slow her down and end this torture. It had little effect.
As her slow manipulation continued, I felt the room fading into irrelevance. The light buzz of conversation and the gentle jazz music playing in the background became distant and faint. My focus narrowed to the woman before me, fixating on her golden radiance. She stared back at me, studying my face for reactions as her skillful toes applied their rhythmic pressure. I found myself breathing heavily, each exhale and inhale accompanied by a jolt of pleasure from my pussy. The feeling built inside me, unstoppable and expansive, it filled my limbs and body with a numbing warmth. I longed for release yet knew that it was impossible here. I longed to drop my hands to my pussy and take her foot in my hand, grinding it into me to reach fulfillment. It was overwhelming, intense and unrelenting. I felt myself slipping, slipping away. I prepared to release myself into it…
The waiter returned and placed a plate of food in front of me. Samantha withdrew her foot, slipping it out of my dress and leaving me empty and bereft. I gasped, blinking at the sudden absence. The waiter looked at me, concern washing over his face, “Is everything okay ma’am? Are you unwell?”
I struggled to regain my wits. Samantha answered for me, her drawling voice laced with amusement, “My friend is fine, she just gets a little excited when she eats out is all. Isn’t that right honey?”
I nodded mutely, wishing the waiter would just go away and we could get back to having Samantha’s foot fuck me again.
He looked skeptical, but continued placing food on the table. Eventually, he gave a snooty harrumph, muttered “bon appetit” and left us alone.
I looked at Samantha, brimming with lust and hunger. It suddenly became imperative that I had her and it would not wait. She sensed my longing and nodded her assent. I looked around the room, eyes settling on a door in the far wall.
“Let’s go to the bathroom,” I gasped hurriedly. She nodded again and moved to stand. I gathered my wits, steadied myself and stood with her. We dashed across the restaurant, her hand in mine, ignoring the looks that the other patrons gave us.
---
As we reached the bathroom, we pushed our way in to the small room. It was clean and light, a single stall and a porcelain sink. Samantha pushed the door shut and flicked the lock closed, ensuring we wouldn’t be disturbed. She turned to face me, a look of hungry desire in her eyes. I leaned back against the sink, urging her forwards.
She paused, then pounced at me, grabbing my waist with her frantic hands and pulling our bodies together. Our mouths met, no longer soft and tender, this time we kissed with feverish intent, our tongues warring together in our mouths. A constant struggle to gain ground and taste the other. My hands roamed over her body, over the heaving bulge of her breasts, down her waist and round to grab her ass and pull her towards me. I was insatiable, I wanted us as close as possible, for our bodies to touch in every way imaginable. I wanted us to merge into one, a single entity of pure lust. Samantha was clearly driven by the same compulsion, she clawed and tore at my dress, pulling it up and pawing my exposed thighs.
I pushed her back and leaned onto the sink. With my right hand, I pulled my loose dress up around my waist, with my left hand I plunged my fingers into my pussy. She watched me touch myself, fascinated by the playful dance before her. Then without warning, she fell to her knees on the hard floor of the bathroom and plunged her head between my legs. Her tongue fell on me without warning or preamble. She eagerly lapped at my labia, teasing those loose folds between her lips and sucking them into her mouth. She probed around my clitoris, brushing across it lightly at first but quickly gathering pace. This was no time for shy seduction, our actions were driven by pure need now. All rational thought had fled, replaced by sheer animal desire.
I moaned at her assault, dropping a hand to her head as she buried herself deeper into me. I applied a light pressure to her, not allowing her any avenue of escape. The only thing that mattered to me now was the feeling of her tongue on me and in me. My body shuddered as I felt the first onset of climax. She felt it too and redoubled her efforts, plunging her tongue into my tight hole and then returning to circle around my clit with renewed intensity.
I pulled my hands back and gripped the sides of the basin on which I leaned. I squeezed my tired thighs around Samantha’s head. I glanced down to look at her in the final moment of calm before I was swept away. She looked up at me from between my legs, her eyes burning with desire and a need to give pleasure. It was intoxicating, to have this angelic thing between my legs, focusing only on my fulfillment. It became too much, I felt something give within me, a point of no return as I crested the wave of my pleasure. The orgasm exploded in my body, spilling out into my furthest reaches. I tensed and shook, panting with each pulse of the orgasm’s power. I held Samantha’s mouth on me, not willing to lose that warm touch just yet. She capitulated, surrendering herself to my grip and allowing herself to become lost in my pussy. I held on for dear life as the climax coursed through me, then finally relaxed as it withdrew.
Samantha fell back onto the cold floor, panting, her face drenched in my juices. I fell down beside her, gripping her head in my hands and pressing my mouth against hers, drinking in every taste of our shared passion.
Suddenly, there was a sharp knock on the door. “Is everything alright in there?” came a voice from the other side.
We hurried to our feet and I shouted a trembling, “Yes, everything’s fine, will be out in a second.”
I looked at Samantha and grinned, “I don’t know about you, but I’m really hungry. Shall we eat?”
She looked back at me, a mischievous smirk filling her face, “Again?” and we laughed together.
Epilogue
We spent most of Samantha’s visit to New York in her hotel room, exploring each other’s bodies and thrilling at the intensity of our mutual attraction. I became insatiable, wanting to taste her in every way and use her stunning body for things that I had never even dreamed of a few days before.
I found myself fixated on her feet, exploring this new desire that she had awakened. She revealed that she shared my peculiar fetish, that my hopeless gawping in the coffee shop that day had drawn her to me, convinced her to invite me back to her room. I was surprised to find that she had never explored this particular thrill before. It delighted me that I was her first.
When it came time for her to leave New York, we bid each other a fond farewell, promising to meet whenever she was in town again. She invited me down to Atlanta to stay with her, I agreed instantly like a teenage girl with a childish crush.
---
So that’s my story. The sordid tale of my first lesbian encounter and the genesis of my strange fetish. I can’t begin to describe where it came from, what triggered my lustful desires. Perhaps it was just fate, the unavoidable attraction of two people whose destinies were intertwined.
I draw my attention back to the Sex and the City DVD that has Samantha so enthralled. The rising warmth in my belly suggests that it’s probably time to drag her away from the TV and take her into my bedroom.
I lift her foot to my mouth and lightly nibble the soft curve of her arch, relishing the feel of the soft material of her pantyhose on my mouth. She gasps, and I fix her with a hungry stare that clearly signals my intent. She looks back at me, reflecting my desires with her own.
She raises a finger to her red lips and purrs demurely, “Bedtime?”
THE END
Her Best Friend Likes Feet
by Ella Ford
Chapter 1
“I like feet,” said Abby, blushing slightly and staring down at her cooling coffee as she stirred it frantically.
I looked at Dani and she looked back at me, neither of us quite sure what to say. This conversation had spun off in an entirely unexpected direction and Abby’s confession has stunned both of us into an awkward silence.
After several seconds, Dani broke cover and asked the question that the two of us were clearly desperate to ask. “What do you mean, you like feet?” she probed, a note of incredulity creeping into her voice.
“Come on guys, you swore you wouldn’t laugh at me!” protested Abby, her light blush deepening to a furious glow. “You asked me what my secret turn-on was and I told you! I thought my two best friends would understand,” she said. She sounded as though she was going to burst into tears.
I reached across the table and touched her forearm reassuringly. “Aw, come on Abby. We’re just trying to understand what you mean. It’s a pretty out there turn on, don’t you think?” I said, doing my best to sound compassionate and not really succeeding. It isn’t every day that your best friend of ten years tells you she has a secret fetish, let alone one so weird and gross.
Abby sniffed and forced herself to look at me. “Well, you know now. I like feet, and I’m not ashamed,” she said defiantly.
Dani sat forwards and propped her head on her hands. then fixed Abby with a penetrating gaze. “I’m still not sure what you mean,” she said, her training as a cop emerging in the way she gently interrogated our friend. “Like, guys’ feet or just feet in general?”
Abby squirmed under the scrutiny and I genuinely thought that she might stand up and flee from the diner. But after a few seconds, she sniffed and looked up from her drink. “N-no, not guys’ feet....”
Dani and I looked at each other once more, the realization of what Abby was implying landing in our minds simultaneously. “Girls’ feet? But you’re not…” I stammered, struggling to make sense of this. Dani nodded, obviously as eager as me to figure out what Abby was really confessing here.
“... not a lesbian. Is that what you were going to say?” Abby asked, and I nodded reluctantly. “You’re right. I’m not a lesbian. I think. I mean,” she looked up and fixed her stare directly on me, “you know me Joanne, I like guys. I love sex, and I’m pretty sure I’m not living in some weird denial state or something. It’s just…”
Dani and I sat forward in our seats, drawn in by the unfolding confession. I guess after ten years of friendship, such earthshaking revelations are few and far between, and I found myself relishing every sordid detail of this one. “Go on,” I encouraged her.
“It’s just… ever since I can remember, I’ve been attracted to women’s feet. There’s just something about them, something that really gets me, you know?”
Dani and I both shook our heads in unison. “I guess I never really thought about them like that. They’re just things at the end of my legs. Kinda weird looking, kinda stinky. But hey, whatever floats your boat,” I said.
“I know, I know. You think I’m weird. Hey, I think I’m weird. But still I have these feelings.” She paused and took a sip of her coffee, then glanced across the diner at one of the tables by the window. “Listen, without being too obvious about it, look over there at the window seat. Tell me what you see.”
Dani and I simultaneously flicked our heads around in the least subtle way possible. Abby groaned and raised her hand to her forehead in consternation and the three of us laughed quietly. Then I turned my attention back to the window seat.
“Okay, I see a woman in her early thirties maybe. She’s dressed smart, looks like an office worker, perhaps from the block over the street. She’s drinking a large coffee and checking her phone every few seconds. Looks like she’s waiting for someone,” I said, feeling like a cop on a stakeout. I turned back to Abby and found her grinning to herself.
“Right, that’s what you see. Do you want to know what I see?” she asked, clearly leading up to something.
Dani and I nodded together. “What do you see?” I asked.
“Right. First up, she’s wearing pantyhose. Or maybe thigh high stockings, I’m not entirely sure but the detail fascinates me.” I turned my head and glanced around again. Abby was right, the woman was wearing pantyhose. They were tan and sheer, and seemed strangely out of place on a hot day like this. Abby continued, “Every few seconds, she slips the high heeled shoe off her foot and dangles it on her toes. Then she flexes her foot and bounces the shoe up and down for a minute. When she does this, I can see the arch of her foot and the ball of her heel and my heartbeat quickens slightly.”
As Abby spoke, I became aware of a change in her voice. I looked at her face and realized that she was staring intently at the woman by the window. Her eyes had glazed over and she was speaking distantly, with a drawl that was rich with desire. I began to feel uncomfortable as my best friend became lost in what was obviously a sexual fantasy, but found myself compelled to continue listening.
“In a few seconds, she’ll reach down with her hand and slip the shoe back on her foot, then uncross her legs and recross them. As she crosses her legs, there’ll be a quiet swishing sound as her thighs brush together, then she’ll slip her shoe off once more and start the whole thing all over again.”
Abby finished talking and Dani and I fell into a stunned silence, unsure of what to say next. It was Dani that spoke first. “Wh-what do you … you know … want to do? To her, I mean …” she asked, obviously as intrigued by this as I was.
Abby squirmed once more. “I-I don’t know. You guys have to understand that I’ve never done anything about this before, and I’ve never told anyone else about this. So you have to swear on our friendship that you won’t tell anyone?” Dani and I both nodded. “I guess,” she continued, “I guess I want to touch her feet. I want to feel how soft they are, what the pantyhose feels like. I kind of want to,” she paused and took a deep breath, “I want to taste them as well, to feel them on my face, to put them in my mouth.”
As Abby spoke, I felt a warm flush on my neck. There was something hypnotic about the whole thing, the rich, erotic way that she spoke. The feeling of taboo, of forbidden desires. I wasn’t entirely sure I got the whole foot thing, but the way that it was affecting Abby was triggering something inside myself. I became distantly aware of a familiar warmth in my mid-section, a gathering presence that caused tingling sensations in my stomach and … well, elsewhere.
“Gross!” exclaimed Dani, suddenly rousing me from my trance.
Abby blushed deeply as she emerged from the depths of her fantasy. “Dani! You swore you wouldn’t make fun of me!” she spat and fell silent.
“I’m sorry Abs, it’s just … you have to admit it’s pretty weird right?”
To my surprise, Abby chuckled. “Yeah, it’s pretty weird. Listen, let’s just forget I ever said anything okay? I was mostly kidding anyway,” she said and turned back to her coffee. Her face glowed with the echo of her fantasy, and I wondered just how much she was actually kidding.
Af
ter that, conversation returned to the mundane details of everyday life - about work, about houses, about guys. It was as if Abby’s confession hadn’t even happened, and both she and Dani seemed happy to let it go and never mention it again. But it played in my mind, over and over again. The way that Abby had spoken about the woman by the window, the way that she had described her peculiar desires and strange needs.
I sat in silence, not really contributing to the conversation, instead studying Abby as she chatted with Dani. It may have been my imagination, I’m still not really sure. But every so often, Abby’s eyes would flick to the right, towards the window. As I watched, she’d linger there, her gaze falling down among the legs of the tables and the chairs, and her eyes would dance with a secret flame.
I’m a firm believer that sometimes, things happen for a reason. Call it God or a higher power, but I reckon that the universe is a hell of a lot weirder than we give it credit for. I also think it has a pervy sense of humor. So what happened later that day didn’t really surprise me at all. The true surprise was how I reacted.
After leaving Dani and Abby at the diner, I hoped on the bus and rode it all the way out to the suburbs where I lived alone. The memory of the conversation was beginning to fade and I struggled to remember the feelings that I’d experienced during Abby’s strange confessional. Instead, my mind turned to less interesting thoughts like what groceries I had to pick up, or what I was going to do about my stupid, broken boiler.
When I got home, I fixed myself a drink and collapsed onto the couch, slipping off my shoes and grabbing my laptop. I was in a productive mood, and intended to use the internet to find a boiler repair man capable of dealing with the endlessly complex contraption that sat uselessly in my cellar. I wasn’t hopeful.
I swung the laptop screen up and waited for a few seconds for the aging machine to warm up, then instinctively opened up my email to see if I had any messages. It was the twenty first century equivalent of glancing into your mailbox on your way home. With no surprise, I found my inbox peppered with the usual collection of junk email, viral videos from friends and tempting notifications of never-ending sales. With a practiced motion, I dragged the mouse across the screen and selected all of them, intending to doom them to a short life in the trashcan, when a single email caught my eye.
