by Ella Ford
“Is something wrong?” said a sudden voice.
I jumped in fright and snapped my head back to the road, swerving the wheel slightly and causing the car to brush against the rough ground by the side of the highway.
“I… what?” I said, unsure what to say.
“You were staring at my feet,” said Willow with a hint of accusation.
“No, I…” I stammered, feeling a hot, red flush creeping up my neck. “I like your ankle bracelet,” I added, improvising quickly.
Willow stroked down her shin and touched her fingers to her lower leg. I noticed that her fingernails were painted the same shade as her toes, that captivating blue-green shade. “This old thing?” she said distantly. “It was a gift from my childhood sweetheart,” she drawled sarcastically with a snort, “never could bring myself to throw it away.”
She slowly drew her fingers up her leg, stroking the soft material of her pantyhose.
“What happened to him?” I asked. “Your ‘childhood sweetheart’,”
Willow wrapped her hands around her knees, bending them so that her toes were barely resting against the dashboard and her thighs were pulled up against her body. “Same as happens to all men,” she said with a note of disgust.
I nodded in sympathy, not really knowing what she was talking about but having seen enough TV to get the basic jist.
“He was a jerk,” she continued distantly, “but he gave the best foot massages.”
“Oh really?” I inquired, feeling a pulse of warmth from between my legs.
“Yeah. He really liked feet,” she continued, turning her head to gaze into the distance. I glanced around and found her pretty face illuminated by the warm pink glow of the setting sun and a wistful, far away expression in her eyes. “No surprise there…”
“What do you mean?” I asked, knowing exactly what she meant but wanting to hear her talk about it.
Willow released her knees and stretched her legs until her feet were pressed up against the windshield again. She began to idly stroke her fingers up and down her dark legs, unconsciously enjoying the silky softness. “Well, you must’ve noticed?” she drawled, her voice low and distracted. “Like, every other guy I date seems to want to suck my toes,” she continued. “I catch them looking at my feet all the time. It’s weird.” She splayed her toes apart, stretching the flimsy prison that held them. “Hell, I only wear pantyhose out here because it gets me more rides!” she added with a coquettish titter.
I felt a rush of guilt, and allowed the car to fall into silence, thinking about what she’d said.
“Do you find that? About guys I mean…” she asked, turning to face me.
I decided to take a chance. “I’m not really into guys,” I replied, smiling warmly and fixing her with a friendly glance.
She gasped and her mouth fell open. “You mean, you’re…” she paused, “... a lesbian?” She pronounced the word deliberately, as though for the first time. I sensed that this girl was a little bit more sheltered than her appearance suggested.
“Well, I prefer girls, yes,” I replied. “Does that shock you?”
“N-no,” she stammered, “I d-didn’t mean… I’ve just never met one before.”
“A lesbian?” I asked with a wry grin.
“Yes, I mean, no,” she said, flushing a fetching pink color that matched the warm light of the cooling sky.
“You might be surprised,” I said with a laugh and the pair of us fell into a strained silence.
As we drove on through the darkening early evening, I found myself unable to think about anything beyond Willow and her long, long legs. She’d withdrawn her feet from the dashboard, curling her legs up against her body in the passenger seat as though to protect herself from what she obviously perceived as a threat. But every now and again, I caught a glimpse of her painted toes through the corner of my eye and my pulse quickened. As my arousal grew, my senses seemed to heighten. I became aware of the smell of her, a subtle mix of soap, perfume and sweat. It was intoxicating and maddening. I briefly considered attempting to seduce her, but realized that this made me little better than the pervert truck driver that had been her previous ride.
After half an hour of sullen silence, Willow spoke again. “What about…” she began, “what about girls?”
I turned to look at her, cowering on the passenger seat. “What do you mean?”
“I mean.... guys seem to be obsessed with feet. Do girls?” she asked, growing in confidence but still sounding timid and nervous.
I frowned, not sure how to answer. Turning to face her, I flashed her a sultry smile. “What do you think?”
She turned away from me and pondered my words. Then spoke once more. “Do… do you like feet?” There was a note of inquisitiveness in her voice, a genuine interest. I briefly allowed myself to wonder what the root of her curiosity was. Was it theoretical? A need to know about something she’d never previously considered? Or was it deeper? Driven by an awakening instinct that demanded satisfaction?
“Yes,” I replied simply, allowing the single word to hang in the air between us.
She sighed, a brief exhale of surprise and … something else. Then she fell into silence once more. I glanced at her face, studying her frown and the furrow of her brow, trying to discern what she was thinking. Was she disgusted? Curious? ...Aroused? She seemed to be locked in an internal skirmish, battling against some instinct that was impossible to identify from the outside. Was it the instinct of disgust or the instinct of attraction? After several minutes, she spoke again.
“Becky, can I asked you a question?” she breathed, barely louder than a whisper.
“Of course,” I replied, knowing what the question was going to be from the cadence of her voice.
“Would you… would you like to touch my feet?” she asked, haltingly at first, but stating the final question with a firm confidence that indicated her instinctual skirmish was over.
I turned to face her and fixed her eyes on mine. “I would,” I replied firmly, allowing no doubt as to my sordid intention.
She sighed and licked her lips, blinking in surprise. Then she turned to stare out at the road ahead, sitting forward in her seat. She pointed at the highway before us, picking out a road sign.
Dusty Road Motel - next left, 400yds.
“Motel,” she said urgently, the single word unfolding in the charged air of the car to reveal a world of sensual possibility. There was a tangible tension between us, a crackling electricity driven by mutual need and unexpected desire.
I nodded and pressed my foot against the gas pedal, urging the vehicle to cover the final short distance in as quick a time as possible. Suddenly, nothing was more important than being alone with this girl, devouring her, introducing her to worlds of pleasure beyond anything she’d ever imagined before.
---
With trembling fingers, I stabbed the key into the lock, missing the target several times before slotting it home with a relieved sigh. I paused for a second and glanced around. The motel car park was deserted, each window in the short row of rooms unlit with drapes drawn. Beyond us, the deepening darkness of the sultry evening cloaked the barren scrub in warm ochre and deep crimson light. It seemed as though Willow and I were the only people in the world.
The young hitchhiker looked at me expectantly, eyes wide, breathing quickly. Her face was a mask of nervous trepidation, unsure of herself, knowing only that this new desire I’d awakened must be addressed, and quickly. I glanced down her body, drinking in the length of her limbs, her narrow waist and modest breasts. She seemed to sense my scrutiny and flashed a sheepish grin, her cheeks flushing lightly. Then she blinked twice, an impatient plea that was utterly unmistakable. I nodded quickly and held my hand out. Willow glanced down at my outstretched fingers, then gingerly placed her hand in mine. I could feel her nervousness, tiny shivers and clammy skin.
Without bothering to conceal my interest, I allowed my eyes to wander down to her feet, following the dark length of her p
antyhose covered legs. She’d slipped her desert boots on as we left the car, but not bothered to tie the laces. The dusty shoes encased her feet like badly wrapped presents, and I couldn’t wait to unwrap them.
Unable to stand it any more, I leaned back against the door and pushed the handle down, stepping backwards into the room, pulling Willow along with me.
The pair of us skipped through, driven by wild instincts and pure desire. As I stumbled in, I slammed my palm against the wall, hitting the light switch more through luck than any kind of coordination. A pair of dim lamps flickered into life, illuminating the threadbare suite, revealing a space that had seen thousands of occupants and very little care. I glanced around, not really caring about the faded decor or questionable cleanliness, needing only to locate the bed. Then I dragged Willow through the door towards the dusty looking mattress.
She followed along with a faint gasp, kicking the door closed behind her, glancing around the tired room. Then she returned her gaze to me, eyes narrowed and breathing quickly.
We reached the bed and I pulled her close to me, closing the gap between us until her body was against mine. I could feel her warmth, the presence of her beside me, the soft swell of her breasts and hard nipples rubbing against my skin through the soft material of my t-shirt. I reached up and touched my palm to her cheek, holding her in place, locking my eyes on hers. The trembling motions of her body halted at my touch, her movements became synchronized with mine and she looked up at me with impatient longing, her pretty mouth hanging slightly open. Her expression seemed to cry out to me. Kiss me, it sang, kiss me now.
I leaned forward, snaking my arm around her body, gripping her firm ass and brushing my fingertips beneath her high shorts. She reciprocated immediately, wrapping her arm around my waist, gripping me in a sensual mirroring of my motions. There was a trepidation to her motions, never quite sure what was wanted or permitted. Her eyes went wide as she touched me for the first time and she exhaled deeply. I closed my eyes as her minty breath washed over my face, suddenly feeling the sheer presence and closeness of the girl. Then I bent my head down and brushed my lips against hers, feeling sparks of electricity at the brief kiss, pulling back after that exquisitely brief taste.
She sighed and went tense in my grip, hands tightening on my lower back, bunching up my t-shirt in her fists. She closed her eyes and leaned her head to the side, an unconscious response that invited me on for more. I couldn’t resist and returned for another touch, this time flicking my tongue over her mouth, lapping at her wet lips, relishing the taste of her skin. The faintest hint of salty sweat, rich with longing and desire. She reciprocated again, parting her lips slightly and pushing her tongue out to meet mine. I lifted my hand from her ass and gripped her face on both sides, twisting her head to the position I wanted, then I kissed her hard, locking my lips on hers and pushing my tongue into her mouth. She didn’t attempt to resist my bold assault, relenting and falling back, allowing me to probe and explore her.
For endless minutes, our tongues danced together. The young hitchhiker gradually grew in confidence, finding herself amid our duelling mouths. She pushed back against me, as hungry for my taste as I was for her. Her tongue flicked around my mouth, lashing against my lips, my tongue, my cheeks. She moved like a ravenous beast, responding to novel desires and new drives, but knowing instinctively what she wanted.
Then we fell apart, both panting with sensual exhaustion, sucking air into our lungs to fuel the pumping jackhammers of our hearts. The air in the room was warm and sticky, cooling from the heat of the high desert, charged with a crackling tension of lust between two women.
“On the bed,” I breathed, gripping her bare arms and pushing her towards the mattress. She nodded and allowed herself to be moved, then turned and fell onto the threadbare comforter, slithering her body away from me and twisting around onto her back, resting on her elbows. Her feet were pointed towards me, inviting me to explore, begging me for attention. I wondered if she remembered my fetish, remembered the strange conversation that got us here in the first place.
It didn’t matter. She was mine now, for this night only, Willow belonged to me. I gazed down at her and she gazed back at me, her eyes wide and mouth open, breathing quickly in short, sharp pants. Her gaze flicked over my body, over my breasts, my hips, my bare legs, always returning to my face as though testing the limits of her permissions. She didn’t yet seem to realize that my body was as much hers as hers was mine.
Without shifting my gaze, I kicked off my canvas sneakers, then peeled my t-shirt over my head. Then I flicked open the button of my khaki shorts and allowed them to fall to the floor, kicking them to one side to join my discarded top. She sighed hungrily, studying my body as I stood before her in my bra and panties.
“More?” I purred, touching my fingertips to my bare stomach and glancing coquettishly to the side.
She nodded urgently, eyes pleading. I reached behind my body and expertly unclasped my bra, allowing the delicate white underwear to fall down my arms, revealing my breasts to her. She looked on with a intense stare, eyes flicking between my rigid nipples. Then her gaze fell down to my skimpy panties, begging me to continue, desperate to see. I reached down and hooked my thumbs into the waistband and slowly, deliberately, teased the intricate lace garment down my legs, bending my leg to hide the pink line of my pussy from the young hitchhiker. She craned her neck to see, giving precisely the response I sought, confirming her instinctual interest in my sex.
I wondered briefly if this was entirely new for her? Or had she harbored these sapphic desires for her whole life, never daring to face them, never wanting to pursue them? It didn’t matter. All that mattered was her hungry longing and irresistible desire.
I turned and revealed myself to her, watching her eyes crawl over the smooth place between my legs, her nervous glance heavy with anticipation. As I watched, her tongue flicked out of her mouth and wetted her lips, an unconscious expression of her hunger.
“I want your feet,” I said, surprised by how breathless I was. Despite my utter control, I still felt a sense of halting trepidation, a need to prolong this sensual seduction for as long as possible. She nodded obediently and lifted her leg, offering the dusty boot to me. I fell forwards and stepped up onto the bed, drawing my legs under my naked body and kneeling at her feet. She shuffled back slightly to make room for me, never lowering her raised leg.
I gripped her leg under her calf, stroking my fingers across the soft, thick material of her pantyhose. She shuddered at my touch, glancing down at my hand as I took hold of the taut muscle of her calf. Her hand moved to her chest, fingertips lightly tracing the swell of her breasts, teasingly stroking around her nipples without a conscious thought.
I smiled down at her and slowly eased her boot from her foot, tossing it aside onto the bed beside us. I glanced down at her toes, naked again, but for the dark mesh of her black pantyhose. I could smell her, the musky product of a day in the desert sun. It was invigorating and intoxicating, a heady cocktail of sweat, perfume and shoe leather. I breathed deeply, lifting her leg until her foot was before my face, filling my nose and throat with her, fueling my intense desire to wild heights. My body flushed with a sudden pulse of warmth from my pussy, a molten tsunami of desire that pushed me onwards, driving me with energized instincts that were familiar and novel at the same time. She splayed her toes, stretching at her pantyhose as though struggling against restraints.
I wondered idly if she realized how enticing this motion was, how much it inflamed the desires of those watching it. Was it intentional, a sultry tease to drive passions, or merely an involuntary response to sudden freedom? It didn’t matter and the thought evaporated as I watched her turquoise painted toes dance before me.
“Hold still honey,” I purred, smiling down at her beneath me. She sighed and her toes froze in place, then I gently placed her foot back onto the bed and took hold of her other leg. Slowly, teasingly, I repeated the sensual unwrapping. Tender caresses of her
calf muscle; slipping her unlaced boot from her foot, examining the dark shape of her sole and arch, the intricate jewels of her toenails beneath her pantyhose. All the while, she gazed at me, face held in rapt attention by this prolonged exploration of her body. “How does it feel?” I breathed, lightly running my fingertip across her sole.
She shuddered and sighed, flinching slightly, then she grinned mischievously. “G-Good,” she stammered.
“How does this feel?” I smirked, then slowly licked up from her heel to her toes with my tongue. This time, Willow gasped and then began to breathe quickly, squeezing her eyes shut and pushing her head back.
“Oh god,” she moaned. Her other foot moved to my side and she began to stroke her toes over the soft flesh of my thighs. There was a warmth to her, a simmering heat that signalled her desire, plainly tangible in this involuntary act.
I turned back to her foot and licked it again, focusing my attention on the exquisite sensations that the act provoked in me. Her salty taste, so rich and vital and alive; the trembling feeling in her leg; the quickening cadence of her breath, short sharp pants through parted lips. I felt my own desire rising, beginning as a subtle ball of warmth in my midsection, pulsing and writhing with unrealized potential. I felt its gentle insinuation, its constant nudging for more. A beast that demanded feeding, my lust stirred in my core and I intended to give it such a bold feast.
