Nylon Feet Mega Bundle

by Ella Ford

  One day in late August, she fucked me in the ass, taking my anal virginity without a second thought. I cried like a little baby, I cried for joy. Never have I been so happy as I was that summer, never have I been so fulfilled. It was quite a time.

  But come September, our sapphic studies would need to make time for our academic studies. It was time for college, and all that this entailed.

  In college, the outlandish was commonplace, and our forbidden love was expected behavior. Every girl had a lesbian fling, every woman a fetish or three. We found ourselves immersed in this world, inseparable lovers, out and proud. We attended lesbian rallies, joined book clubs for lesbian literature, we went to fetish bars and sleazy haunts where painted girls would suck our toes while we gripped each other’s hands and gazed into each other's eyes. We became a familiar sight around campus: Lana and Abby, the rich girl and the rock chick, an unlikely pair but part of the scene.

  Oh, we had our wobbles, like everyone does. Accusations of infidelity, self-conscious worries about body image, my endless, unrelenting fear that I was not classy enough for Lana or good enough for her social circle. We fought and argued and slapped and raged, but always we returned to each other’s arms, to each other’s feet.

  In our senior year, we shared a dorm room. That we hadn’t before was as surprising as it was awkward, more to maintain the illusion of friendship for our families than anything else. But by year three, we couldn’t wait any longer. We turned our room into a shrine of gaming and fetishism and decadent pleasures. Our relationship dildos, our kinky heels and our bundles of pantyhose shared closet space with our PS3 and our Gamecube. It was blissful, I wanted that time to never end.

  But nothing that good can last forever.

  On Friday nights, we usually went to a bar. A local dyke bar called Lydia’s. It was a friendly crowd with a good mix of couples and singletons, fine music and good wine. Slowly, over the months and years, we became locals, propping up our end of the bar like Norm from Cheers.

  One particular Friday, just after midterms, we found ourselves drinking more than normal. I was ultra-horny. Cramming for the tests had meant that neither Lana or I had been particularly interested in erotic matters for the last few weeks. But now that all of that was over, I found myself feeling super frisky. Lana wasn’t helping. She was wearing a black, plunging neck, mini-dress with the same tan, sheer-to-waist pantyhose that I was wearing, and regulation Lana pumps. Her long, honey hair was in a tight braid that fell down her back and bobbed as she walked. Honestly, I wanted to lay her over the bar and fuck her with my fingers there and then. And I probably would have, if not for the cautionary sign behind the cash register which warned against “Heavy Petting”.

  Still, I couldn’t shake my dirty thoughts.

  “Lana,” I started, taking a sip from my beer, “can I ask you something?”

  “Sure, honey,” she replied, beaming angelically from behind her extravagant cocktail.

  “Remember we talked about, well, you know… that thing,” I said, alcohol slurring my words slightly, but giving me confidence to do what I was about to do.

  She shook her head and wrinkled her nose. “What thing, babe?”

  I coughed and reached deep for the courage to do what I was about to do. “That we, you know, experiment with…” I paused “another girl?”

  She frowned and nodded. “Ah, Abby’s fabulous threesome plan. I remember. What about it?”

  “I think we should,” I blurted out.

  “What, now?” she said, blinking.

  “Why not? Let’s just pick a girl, seduce her, and fuck her.” I was on a roll now, it seemed like the greatest idea in the world. The idea of seeing another girl between Lana’s legs excited the hell out of me, and the thought of Lana sucking the toes of some unsuspecting co-ed left me wet and breathless.

  “I don’t know, Abs…” she frowned, trailing off to nothing. “If you want to, I guess.”

  “You don’t sound convinced?”

  She gazed at me with a look of vague melancholy. “I just… Am I not enough for you?”

  “Oh, honey,” I said, reaching across and laying my hand on her soft knee. She shuddered at my touch. “You’re more than enough for me, almost too much!” I said and she laughed nervously. “I just think it might be fun, you know? An experiment. We don’t have to marry her or anything. It’ll be a one-off, think of her like a new dildo.”

  She sipped her drink and narrowed her eyes. “Maybe,” she said.

  In my slurred state, I took that single word as affirmation, agreement, enthusiasm even, permission. I didn’t hear the doubt and hurt in her voice until I replayed the conversation back in my mind much later on.

  “What about that one?” I said, gesturing across the bar to a girl sitting alone at a table. I’d spotted her half an hour before and she still hadn’t been joined by her inevitable date. She was a similar age to us, slightly younger maybe. A redhead, wearing a tight, white t-shirt and denim shorts, sheer black pantyhose and strappy black heels.

  “Can’t think why you picked her,” said Lana with a forced smirk, staring across at the girl’s long limbs beneath her table. As we watched, the girl uncrossed her legs and recrossed them in the opposite direction, pointing her painted toes at us. “Can’t think why at all…”

  “Are you not wondering what her feet taste like?” I said, gazing at her outstretched leg as it bounced up and down. The girl was staring into her drink longingly, she’d clearly been stood up.

  “You clearly are,” said Lana impishly. It sounded as if she was coming around to the idea.

  I squeezed her thigh and looked her straight in the eye. “Let’s fuck her, babe. Together.”

  A wide smile rose across her face, lighting her features. She nodded once. “Okay, let’s fuck her.” Then she paused and spoke again. “I have one condition though, Abby.”

  The girl rotated her ankle and moved her toes in a lazy, hypnotic circle. A warm heat rose between my legs. “Name it,” I said, without thinking.

  “I don’t want you to kiss her, not on the mouth. I don’t think I could stand that.”

  I thought she was joking at first and turned to face her. Her expression was perfectly serious.

  “Sure babe, of course,” I said, wondering inwardly why that was such a big deal. The idea of seeing Lana’s tongue in the mouth of a casual fuck made me weak at the knees and horny as hell. “Pussy fine; mouth bad,” I added, trying to lighten the mood.

  Lana reached over and touched my lower arm. “Promise me, Abs.”

  I nodded. “I promise, Lana, okay. I won’t kiss her. Now, should we go and get us some ass?”

  Lana smiled back at me. “Really?” she said with a withering stare.

  Picking up our drinks, we wandered across the bar. All around us, couples were pairing off or snuggling close, roaming hands touching, caressing. The air was thick with desire and rich perfume. In contrast, the girl sat alone as if bathed in a spotlight of solitude.

  “Hi, do you mind if we join you?” said Lana, as polite as ever.

  The girl looked up and smiled sweetly. “Sure,” she shrugged, “be my guest.”

  She seemed surprised to have any attention paid to her, but she shuffled around and let us sit beside her, Lana on one side, me on the other.

  “We couldn’t help but notice you were alone,” I said, trying to sound sympathetic but inwardly imagining tearing that pretty white t-shirt off her with my teeth.

  “Yeah,” she frowned. “Stood up. Last time I use that dating site.” She had a thick southern accent, pretty sounding and rustic, she pronounced ‘I’ as ‘Ah’. There was a naivety to her tone, a refreshing innocence.

  “Are you a freshman?” I asked, though I already knew the answer.

  “I am, yes, can y’all tell so easily?” she said, grimacing slightly.

  “Lucky guess is all,” I smiled, then looked over at Lana as she took a sip from her drink. She nodded with an almost imperceptible wink. It was on.<
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  “Listen, honey, I’m Abby, this is Lana,” I gestured across to Lana, who gave a little wave and mouthed “hello”.

  “Pleased to meet y’all, I’m Cindy.”

  “Cindy listen,” I said, being all alpha and butch, “I’ll cut to the chase. Lana and I share a dorm room and we have a Super Nintendo with a multi-tap and Super Bomberman. Would you like to come over to play some Bomberman with us?”

  As chat up lines go, it wasn’t that great. Lana looked down into her drink and groaned.

  “I don’t know what any of those words mean,” said Cindy, shaking her head.

  “Would you like to come over to our room and play videogames,” I restated with a sigh. Uncultured girls, honestly.

  Cindy nodded, unconvinced at first but quickly getting into the idea. “Sure, I like games, it sounds like fun,” she said and winked at me, indicating that she thought the whole videogame idea was nothing but an idle ruse to lure an unsuspecting freshman back to our lesbian love nest and teach her how to love like a real woman. And that she was quite okay with that, thank you very much.

  As we left the bar, stumbling on our heels in the rush to find a taxi and get home, I found myself thinking of Bomberman strategies and realized that she was only partially right.

  Back at the dorm, we tossed our purses on the dresser drawers and kicked off our heels. Lana popped open a bottle of red wine while I fiddled with the ancient Super Nintendo in the corner. Cindy, for her part, stood nervously by the door, gripping her arm and looking as if she was going to make a run for it at any second.

  “Oh,” she said as she watched Lana and I fuss around the room, “I didn’t realize we actually we going to… you know, play videogames.”

  I turned to her and nodded. “It’s kind of our thing.”

  “Videogames?”

  “Yes,” I said, fixing her with the filthiest look I could manage. “We play videogames, then we fuck. Right, Lana?”

  “It gets us in the mood,” said Lana, handing Cindy a glass of wine and taking a sip from her own. “Say, why don’t you take your shoes off, Cindy? You look like your feet could use the break.”

  Cindy’s face softened and her initial skepticism faded a little. “Oh boy, y’all have no idea,” she said. Then she staggered over to my bed and collapsed back with a pretty little sigh.

  Lana glanced over at me and I returned her look, momentarily distracted from the spider’s web of cables I was fighting as Cindy reached down and began to unbuckle her shoe. I winked, and Lana smiled back.

  “Say, Cindy, those are lovely shoes,” said my insatiable lover. “Do you want me to help you with them?” she said with a look of wide-eyed innocence that made me tremble a little.

  Cindy looked up, blinking. “Oh… you would? Thank you, I can’t quite make my fingers cooperate,” she said.

  Lana walked across the room like a Valkyrie, a goddess on endless legs and set her wine down beside the bed, then lowered herself down to her knees before Cindy who gazed at her with a hypnotized expression of total captivation. Lana’s tight dress rode up her thighs as she kneeled, I noticed, showing the initial curve of her divine ass. I watched her shuffle into position, a position she’d adopted before me on times too numerous to count, the way she folded her legs beneath her, the way her nylon soles poked out from beneath her bottom and her toes twitched without conscious thought.

  Then she lifted Cindy’s leg before her and began to unbuckle the strappy sandal. Cindy stared at her, eyes wide and lips parted.

  “You have such lovely feet,” purred Lana. This was the Lana that I knew, the Lana that I loved, the Lana that had seduced me with nervous touches all those years ago in my Mom’s basement. Lana the temptress, Lana the seductress, Lana the being of pure pleasure.

  “Th-thank you, I think,” said Cindy uncertainly, “no-one has ever said that about my… my feet before.”

  Lana glanced up from her foot and smiled at her. I watched her work from the TV corner, gripping Super Bomberman in my hands, unable to concentrate on what I was doing, mesmerized by this slow seduction before me.

  “It’s true,” she said, and slipped off Cindy’s shoe, sliding it forward with glacial precision, revealing the true shape of her foot in millimetre increments. “See the arch here,” continued Lana, her voice melodic and sultry, teasing the tip of Cindy’s sandal along the edge of her sole, “see how perfect and curved it is?”

  Cindy sighed and chewed at her lower lip.

  “See the line of your toes?” Lana said, holding Cindy’s foot aloft and touching her finger to the line of painted digits before her. “See how perfectly ordered they are, how each one is shorter than the last? See how your pantyhose seam follows this adorable line with mathematical precision?”

  The tease! I thought to myself, feeling the heat of desire growing between my legs, pushing aside the buzz of the wine.

  Cindy nodded, but didn’t reply. She was caught now, utterly hooked by the scene unfolding before her. She flexed her toes, probably without thinking, stretching the fabric of her black nylon pantyhose.

  Lana gave a little gasp, a forced, girly sigh of surprise. She giggled coquettishly, then removed Cindy’s other shoe, repeating the slow, sensual ritual. “Would you…” she started, speaking with barely more than a whisper, adding to the palpable tension in the room. Her head was lowered, peering at Cindy from the top of her eyes. “Would you mind if I… if I kissed your foot?” she said, sounding for all the world like a young girl asking for more pudding.

  Cindy blinked, surprised at the request. Her face was flushed, a hot scarlet rash that ran up her neck from her chest matching the fire of her red hair. She looked hot, she looked horny, she looked like a deer in the headlights of a car driven by my beautiful, sensual lover. She nodded. “I mean, no… no I don’t mind…” she clarified, but her clarification wasn’t needed. What she wanted was written on her pretty little face.

  Lana smiled and traced a single fingernail down Cindy’s foot. Cindy squirmed on the bed, reaching down and grabbing the comforter in her painted nails. Lana held onto her, didn’t let her pull away, then she leaned forwards and touched her lips to Cindy’s sole, kissing her with the tiniest of caresses. Cindy sighed and blinked quickly.

  Lana pulled back and beamed at her. “You taste amazing, honey,” she said. “Abby, would you like to taste our new friend?”

  I set Bomberman down beside me, the pre-sex gaming session I’d naively planned in my head suddenly becoming the furthest thing from my thoughts. I crawled across the room and stopped beside Lana, stroking her upturned nylon soles as I passed, relishing the soft warmth of her flesh and the way she shuddered when I touched her.

  “I’d love to taste her,” I purred.

  Lana held Cindy’s foot aloft between us and we both gazed at the perfect shape of it. I could hear Lana’s breathing beside me, fast and urgent, a hunger I recognized. As one, we both leaned in and planted kisses on Cindy’s foot. She inhaled sharply and shifted on the bed, reacting to this new thrill. As she squirmed, her t-shirt came loose from her denim shorts and revealed the toned, tanned flesh of her stomach. The sight of it made my pussy throb.

  “Oh my,” she whispered, sucking on her finger, “y’all are some kinky bitches,” she added as an afterthought.

  Lana smiled like a courtesan and turned to me, lowering Cindy’s foot to the floor. “Say, it’s warm tonight, isn’t it?” she said. I loved this dance, I loved this pretence, I loved how my lover was leading both Cindy and myself through her own private seduction.

  I nodded.

  “Can I… can I help you out of your dress?” asked Lana, the same girly innocence, utterly mesmerizing, utterly arousing. I wanted nothing more than to take her, to take them both, restraint was paralyzing now.

  I nodded again, and Lana moved to my back, putting me between her and Cindy. I lifted my head and my hand reached down and touched Cindy’s foot, stroking her soft sole. I felt Lana sweep my dark, shoulder length hair off my neck, t
hen slowly tease the zipper of my purple, dress down my back. Cindy watched her work, her hands roaming slowly over her own body. In turn, I watched Cindy, I studied her face, the line of her lips, the gentle rise of her breasts beneath the tight material of her t-shirt and the endless length of her legs, splayed apart, an arrow to the wonder of her sex.

  “Lift your arms, honey,” whispered Lana, breathing into my ear. I did as I was told, unable to resist. With one fluid motion, Lana lifted the dress over my head and set it neatly down beside us. I felt the cool of the evening air on my flesh, the warm scrutiny of Cindy’s eager eyes on my chest. And then my bra was gone, falling down my arms, gone like an afterthought with a casual flick of Lana’s fingers.

  I shifted, parting my knees and touching my hand between my legs. My pantyhose were soaked through.

  “Oh my,” drawled Cindy from the bed, lifting her foot to touch my thigh, “you’re not wearing any panties.” She looked shocked and excited in equal measure.

  I turned to Lana. “Now you,” I said, and gestured up onto the bed. Lana crawled and hopped up like a puppy, caressing Cindy with curious hands. I jumped up behind her, kneeling over her, touching each hand to her shoulders. “Do you want to see her, honey?” I asked, almost breathless, fighting every animalistic urge that was raging through me. This slow seduction was a sensual torture, like wading in molasses when I wanted nothing more than to be free-falling. Cindy nodded.

  My hands were trembling but somehow, I managed to unzip Lana’s dress. She lifted herself up on her knees and raised her arms. She looked like a swan, slender and proud, a sculpture of perfect femininity, a goddess. I have no more words for how radiant she looked in the flickering candlelight of our cramped dorm room, the memory haunts me to this day.

  I glanced down as I peeled Lana’s dress up her body and over her head. Cindy was leaning to the side, resting on her elbow, peering at Lana with wide eyes. She seemed as transfixed as I was by the majestic form of my lover.