Nylon Feet Mega Bundle

by Ella Ford

  I shifted my head, visiting the underside of her foot, planting hot kisses along the length of her sole. I reached her heel and lapped at it, wrapping my lips around it, then nibbled my way back along her arch. My entire universe collapsed to this single sordid scene; her foot, my mouth - a perfect couplet of interlocking parts. Her foot was drenched now, soaked by my attention. I dropped it down to my lap and grabbed the other, repeating the same sensual ritual of worship and adoration.

  As I was sucking hard on her big toe, I glanced up at Professor Cole. Our eyes locked and an unspoken, womanly communication passed between us. I knew in an instant what she wanted me to do, where she wanted me to go. Suddenly, all those years of thought experiments and hypothetical scenarios performed in the mental laboratory of a theoretical lesbian paid off.

  I lifted her leg and traced my lips over her ankle, nipping at the taut flesh of her calf. She yelped and moaned, sighing loudly. Then she lifted her hips and wiggled her tight skirt up her thighs until it gathered around her waist. I gazed along the length of her slender leg, following the nylon path to my final destination. I gasped as I found my prey - Professor Cole wasn’t wearing any panties! Had she planned this all along? I wondered to myself as I kissed the back of her leg, resting her leg on my shoulder and lifting up onto my knees, ready for my final approach.

  She seemed to sense my question and nodded with a wicked grin. Then she reached her hand between her legs and playfully stroked her pussy through the thin material of her pantyhose. The hosiery was rich and expensive, with no visible gusset. It pressed the complex folds of her pretty labia down, freezing the flesh in place in a stunning tableau of desire. Suddenly, without warning, Professor Cole gripped the delicate material in her fingers and ripped, tearing open a large hole centered on her pussy. I sighed in delight and shock.

  Her lips were wet, I could see that now. They glistened in the warm light of the late afternoon sun. I needed no further encouragement and quickened my pace, tracing a line of hot kisses down the inside of her thigh, approaching the end of my journey with every tender touch. I paused, suddenly gripped with self-doubt. Was I really about to do this? What if I did it wrong? What if I hurt her?

  But any hesitation I felt was swept away in an instant as Professor Cole reached down and parted her lips, revealing the complex topography of her pussy to me and beckoning me in. I shifted forwards, sweeping my honey blonde curls back off my face. Then I held out my tongue, closed my eyes and nervously licked at her.

  It was the lightest of touches, the briefest of tastes, but it sent electric jolts up my entire body. The musky flavor of her sex, the forbidden hint of the taboo, it all combined within my body to send my mind reeling.

  I dipped forwards for another pass, driven by foreign instincts and an awareness that I could not identify. I plunged my tongue deep into her, dragging it from her hole, through her wet lips and up to her clitoris. I shifted my focus there, intrigued by the hard bud that I found. I began to move in tight circles, pushing down on her, pressing her clit against her pelvic bone.

  Professor Cole yelped in pleasure, and distantly I worried that someone might hear. The faculty office was just across the hall. How often did her colleagues look in on her? Before I could linger on the worry, she reached down and gripped my hair, pulling me roughly forwards until my face was buried in her sex. I felt enveloped by her moistness, feeling her lips smear against my face. I struggled to keep pace, to continue my motions despite the overwhelming feelings that I was experiencing.

  She relaxed her grip slightly and I pulled back. My face was dripping wet with her, every sense filled with her, but I never once wanted to pull free. My first taste of pussy was stronger than any drug, more addictive than heroine. Never once did the thought of stopping cross my mind, never once did I want to reverse course and flee.

  I doubled down with my actions, moving my tongue quickly and without repetition. I knew instinctively what pleased her, since it was what pleased me too. Though this geography was new to me, I had studied maps and was aware of its landmarks, knew which paths to take to get me to my destination. I felt out of control and wild, lost in my overwhelming need to devour this woman.

  I pulled back and Professor Cole moaned as I reached down and grabbed her ankle, pulling both of her feet together, each wet with my saliva. Then I buried my face in both soles, inhaling deeply, kissing her soft skin. She sighed her appreciation and I reached down with my free hand, plunging my fingers into her bulging labia, smearing her wetness down into the cleft of her ass, finding her tight hole and pressing into it. She screamed now, louder than before, then gasped as she realized what she’d done and bit down on her wrist.

  I continued my twin assault, worshipping her feet with my mouth and working my fingers in her ass and pussy. Suddenly, I was in command, I was running the show. She danced like a puppet on my strings, writhing on the desk, her legs in the air, perfect sex exposed and open. I forced my thumb up to her clit and rocked it back and forth, pressing down, making tight spirals, squashing it and teasing it.

  I sensed a change in her. Her breathing quickened, became less audible. Short, sharp pants, quick exhales of breath. Her hands fell to her side and gripped the front of the desk, knuckles turning white, reflecting the tension in her body. She began to moan and I quickened my attention, biting at her stockinged feet, pressing two fingers into her tight pussy and working my hand back and forth.

  “Oh fuck, oh fuck, I’m going to come!” she moaned, a note of panic and surprise rising in her voice. Did she not think it would come to this?

  Suddenly, her spine arched upwards and her head pushed back. I felt her toes curl up into a ball on my face. Her thighs clenched together, locking my hand in her dripping pussy. I sensed every muscle in her go tense and rigid, activated by an intensity that I could only imagine. Her head fell to the side and her mouth fell open in a silent scream, the thin cords on her neck stood out in stark relief.

  Then, at once, the orgasm left her and she fell still. Her body went limp, arms collapsing to her side. I lowered her legs, resting her feet in my lap. Her knees fell apart, and her devastated pussy was revealed to me, glowing red like cooling lava. She lay back, prone and exposed on the desk, no longer caring who saw her like this.

  I continued to study her, stroking her soft pantyhosed legs distractedly, the fading warmth in my own body leaving my pussy unsatisfied and aching.

  In time, she gathered herself together and sat up on the desk, shuffling her skirt down her legs to hide her wetness. She looked flustered and dishevelled, face flushed red like a hot ember. She blinked and brushed a loose strand of hair from her face, then looked at me and smiled.

  “I think that will be all for now,” she said with a sigh. “Thank you Rebecca, don’t forget the quiz on Wednesday,” she added and hopped off the desk, picking up her shoes and returning to her work without even looking at me again.

  Stunned, I lifted myself to my feet and shuffled to the door, the taste of her pussy and feet still glowing bright in my mind.

  Sorority Feet

  September, 2013

  I know what you’re thinking. After an encounter like the one that I had with Professor Cole, I would plunge myself into the river of sapphic exploration, hopping from pussy to pussy in an insatiable quest for pleasure. You might imagine me taking advantage of the permissive college atmosphere, buying myself a pair of dungarees and shacking up with some free-love hippy chick whose carnal appetites were matched only by her perverted desire for self-discovery.

  I wish that any of that was true.

  In fact, after Professor Cole’s elaborate pantyhose seduction, I pretty much went back to how I was before: quiet, slightly nerdy, shy Becky. Still inwardly obsessed with pantyhosed feet, only now I had practical experience to haunt my dreams and fuel my fantasies.

  In no time at all, the college closed for the summer. Professor Cole proudly announced to her classes that she was joining the Peace Corps and leaving for Africa in late
July. In those remaining months of my freshman year, Jennifer Cole, with the insanely pretty feet and delicious pussy, never said a single word to me in person.

  I returned home, filled with a sense of regret and a sad feeling that I hadn’t truly experienced college life.

  What I’m trying to say is that my pussy remained resolutely uneaten!

  As I worked out those long Wisconsin days in the local Dairy Queen, I resolved that my sophomore year would be the time I finally embraced my sexuality. I might even come out to my parents!

  Yeah, right.

  ---

  It was the end of September and I had a new roommate. My former roomie, Carla, had dropped out of college over the summer. She’d met some boy or other and they’d decided to go off travelling. It was quite the scandal in the well-to-do suburb of New York that she’d grown up in. I even had a tearful telephone call with her parents in late August, begging me to talk sense into their only daughter and, later on, to reassure them that Carla wasn’t taking “the drugs”. Now, I’d seen Carla in pretty much every state of inebriation, but I never told them that. I especially didn’t tell them about the time that she’d allowed those two star wide-receivers to double team her while I’d cooled my heels in the local cinema until they were satisfied.

  Carla’s replacement, Ruth, was a very different sort of character. Cripplingly shy, quiet as a mouse, faintly attractive beneath the straw-like mass of blonde hair that spilled over most of her features and framed her enormous satellite dish glasses. Ruth was also deeply religious and spent most of her time in the college chapel, or attending church group outings.

  So it turned out that most of the time, I had the room to myself.

  Which is where I found myself one weekend at the beginning of fall. It was a quiet Saturday afternoon, crisp and clear, the kind of day where the first frosty hints of colder weather spiked the warm amber memory of a fading summer with a sharp bite. I had nowhere to go and nothing to do, save for a short essay for Dr. Chakrabati on the subject of existentialism - a topic I had no great love for, but one that might prove moderately interesting.

  As I was preparing to head out for a walk in the lovely weather, my cell phone rang. It was Anna, a friend of mine from the college film club. Anna was a dyed-in-the-wool sorority girl - like her mother before her and her grandmother before that. In our freshman year, Anna had wasted no time at all pledging for the local Delta Kappa chapter, enduring the secretive rituals and humiliating hazing that the sorority insisted on, something that Anna never spoke of in all the times we discussed our lives!

  “Hey Anna, what’s up?” I said, answering the phone with a swipe of my finger.

  “Becky, hi! Listen, I need a favor…” she said, leaving me wondering what she needed at this time on a Saturday.

  “Sure babe, what do you need?”

  “Well, here’s the thing. Tommy Kincaid… you know who I mean?”

  “How could I not? You never stopped talking about him for most of last year…” I replied sarcastically. Tommy Kincaid was an athletics scholarship student. Dumb as a rock but with an unrivalled ability to propel funny shaped balls to within an inch of a target one hundred yards away. And Anna had a planet-sized crush on the brute.

  My friend giggled on the other end of the line. “Oh boy, did I?” she drawled. “Well, anyway, Tommy Kincaid’s parents have given him the keys to their summer cabin upstate and he’s asked me along as his date! Can you believe it?”

  Anna sounded genuinely elated, her voice was giddy with excitement. “Aw, I’m super-happy for you babe,” I said with genuine sincerity. “So how can I help you out?” I added.

  She went quiet for a second. “Well, here’s the thing. It’s pledge week at Delta Kappa. And as a senior sister, I’m babysitting two pledges…”

  “Babysitting…?” I asked.

  “Well, see… you’ve got to swear this stays between you and me,” she said, sounding genuinely concerned.

  “I swear.”

  “Okay, see, we do this slave-for-a-weekend deal. It’s part of the hazing. You take two pledges, they compete to be the best slave, you pick one, they join. Sorority business, see?”

  I sighed. “Sure, all that sounds perfectly normal!” I said with as much sarcasm as I could muster.

  “Yeah, yeah. See how far you get in the real world without sorority connections Rebecca!” she scolded.

  “Okay, I’m sorry. What do you want me to do?”

  “Well, I got these two chicks,” she said. “What are your names again?” she added faintly, away from the phone. I heard two voices chirp up in the background. “I got these two chicks, Maria and Jane, till Monday. I can’t take them to Tommy Kincaid’s parents’ cabin, and I can’t very well let them wander free while they’re pledging….”

  “Heaven forfend,” I interjected, falling back into sarcasm.

  She ignored me and continued. “So I need you to take them off my hands. I’ll basically make you an honorary sister for the weekend and tell them to be your slave instead. You can have them bring you ice cream or whatever fucked up shit you can dream up. Have them massage your feet, I don’t care…”

  My heart skipped a beat…

  “... but I’ll be back to pick them up tomorrow afternoon. You cool Becky?”

  I thought for a second. Well, I’d be helping out a friend and Ruth was away for the weekend anyway. “Sure, I’ll do it.”

  “You’re a doll, doll! I’ll be over in ten!”

  ---

  An hour later, the three of us sat in stony silence, nobody quite sure what to say. I’m shy at the best of times, but I was really struggling in this situation. Across the room from me, side by side on the small sofa by the window, sat Maria and Jane, my weekend slaves.

  Now, I am not sure what goes on in sororities. I’d never had much interest in that side of college life, much less wanted to join one. But I’d be damned if I could explain these two sorority hopefuls who sat before me.

  Anna had dropped them off twenty minutes after our call. She air-kissed me like a Sorbonne debutante, ushered her charges into my room, then spun on her heel and high-tailed it off down the corridor and through the dorm without even introducing us. I guess she didn’t want to answer any of the obvious questions that I was going to ask.

  Like: why were her two pledges dressed as virgin sacrifices?

  I’m not kidding… each girl was wearing a simple, loose fitting white cotton dress and flat shoes. Both girls had long, dark hair that was tied up off their necks and shoulders in tight ponytails. I didn’t know whether to offer them a coffee or lead them up a blood-drenched Aztec pyramid! Sorority business, indeed.

  “So,” I said, desperate to break the overwhelming silence, “where are you from?”

  “Kansas City,” said the one with the darker skin, Maria.

  “Little Rock, Arkansas,” said the paler girl with the deep green eyes, Jane.

  We fell back into silence. “You guys really want to join Delta Kappa huh?” I asked, genuinely interested in what motivated beautiful girls like this into such strange humiliation.

  They both nodded eagerly.

  “What kind of things has Anna had you doing?” I asked.

  The two girls looked at each other, then glanced away nervously. Maria answered, “we’re not supposed to talk about sorority business.”

  “I see,” I replied, wondering what on earth that filthy minx had done with them. For the first time - I swear, the very first time! - my mind flashed with the potential fun that sat before me, fidgeting nervously on my ratty old couch. “And you’re my slaves for the weekend right? You’ll do exactly what I tell you?”

  The two girls nodded, looking wary and apprehensive.

  I began to feel a strange sense of control. It was most unlike how I normally felt around other human beings. Maybe it was an echo of my experience with Professor Cole, maybe it was the way that these two girls were dressed and how they were acting. But I began to find myself entertaining cu
rious notions and sordid possibilities. How far could I go? How much could I make them do? Did I even dare?

  It turned out, I did. “Girls, I’d like you to stand up and come over here.”

  “Yes, sister,” the two pledges said in unison, then stood up and stepped quickly over to the bed, their heads bowed. The Arkansas girl, Jane, looked docile and compliant, but there was a spark of rebellion in the eyes of the latina girl Maria. I studied them as they stood before me, heads bowed, hands crossed before them.

  “Now, kneel down there,” I said, pointing at the floor by the bed.

  Jane instantly fell to her knees and settled back on her heels, turning to watch Maria. The other girl was shaking her head silently, a look of smouldering anger gathering on her pretty face. There was a glint in the kneeling girl’s eyes, as though she sensed victory.

  “Kneel please,” I repeated, pointing to the space beside Jane and infusing my words with a forceful tone.

  “Listen, I…” started Maria, beginning her protest.

  “I said kneel!” I snapped. “Do you want to be Delta Kappa or not?” I said, feeling a little guilty to use their ambitions against them.

  Maria’s dark features relaxed and she sighed, then lowered herself to her knees beside Jane.

  I sat forward on the bed, staring at my temporary charges. I felt my head swimming with excitement and nervousness. This was most out of character, but the familiar warmth that was growing in my pussy drove me forwards, flooding my mind with instinctual urges.

  I shifted to the side and swung my legs around until my feet were hanging over the edge of the bed, inches away from Jane and Maria. I was barefoot, wearing only a loose floral print skirt and a tight white t-shirt.