Lesbian Foot Fetish?

[EllaFord]

Honey, you've been staring at them all night, why don't you come over here and take a closer look? Oh, come now, don't look so shocked.
You thought you were being discrete, but I know the look... I know the quick, stolen glances; the lingering stares when I slipped off my shoes, when I curled my toes. I recognize the hunger in your eyes, the confused urges you feel, the need to do something... something that shocks you.
Well, honey, we're alone now, everyone else has left. Just you and me. So why don't you kneel down there and do what you've wanted to do all night? I won't bite, promise!
That's right... good girl. Don't they look so tempting, so soft? Don't you just want to put your mouth on my sole, bury your nose behind my toes, touch me, taste me, smell me? Don't you want to lose yourself in my pretty little feet?
I have an idea. Maybe you should say 'please, Miss, may I?' first...

https://i.imgur.com/N7h7oQH.jpg
https://i.imgur.com/kBSM4J8.jpg
https://i.imgur.com/Q9P5Rhu.jpg
https://i.imgur.com/MKKrz0A.jpg
https://i.imgur.com/PqY4FzW.jpg

 

[redder00]

https://i.imgur.com/GODopfr.jpg

---

It was her certainty that threw me; the way she skillfully tossed the directive into the conversation like a casual observation. One minute we were talking about the minutiae of office life, toner supplies or stationery vendors, I can't even remember what, and the next she was asking me to... well...
"Get on your knees and crawl under my desk," she said, glancing up from her paperwork, her dark eyes suddenly narrow and focused, mouth curled up in a sultry smile.
"Ms. Monroe?" I replied, sure that I'd misheard her.
"I said, get on your knees and crawl under my desk."
She leaned her head to the side and rested her chin on her upturned palm, then absentmindedly pointed downwards with her other hand. My gaze followed her motion as she slowly crossed her legs beneath the desk. The oppressive silence of the room was interrupted by the soft swish of her nylon covered thighs brushing together like the gentle brush of a lover's caress.
"I'm not sure I understand," I said, though that wasn't quite true. A tidal wave of remembered office rumours rose in my mind as I recalled the hushed bathroom talk about Alice Monroe and her curious appetites; rumours I'd dismissed as scurrilous slander, the incessant chattering of the secretary pool gossips.
Ms. Monroe frowned and sat forward, clasping her hands together before her and drawing her feet beneath her seat. She fixed me with an icy glare, then beamed her viper smile. I felt myself shrink under her scrutiny, cowering before the overwhelming presence of this maddeningly compelling woman.
"I want you to listen carefully, Ella, because I'm going to say this only once," she began, her voice low and steady, almost monotone, the kind of intonation you use when giving a child her final warning. "In approximately twenty seconds, you're going to get down on your knees and crawl under my desk. You're going to remove my shoes and you're going to wrap those pretty, painted lips around my foot as though it was your boyfriend's cock. My feet have been in these heels all day long and they need attention."
I glanced down again, unable to parse what was being asked of me. Beneath the desk, Ms. Monroe offered her foot out to me and flicked her toes upwards, slipping the shoe from her heel and letting it dangle back and forth lazily. I returned my gaze to Ms. Monroe's face. The corner of her mouth rose in a suggestive smirk.
"If you're a good girl," she began, emphasizing the words 'good girl' with a purposeful focus, "then I'll let you eat my pussy later."
Her words hung in the air between us like an accusation, my short term fate detailed in that single sentence and left for my inspection. My instincts told me to stand and run, to leave the office and the building and the whole awful job. I considered pleading with her, telling her that I wasn't a lesbian, that I didn't do those kinds of things, that she had the wrong girl. But I said nothing. Deep down, I knew that such protestations would be futile at best and dishonest at worst. Instead, my eyes dropped below her desk once more and fixated on the slowly swinging shoe that hung from her foot; the curve of her arch, the perplexing softness of her sole flashing into view as her foot dipped slowly up and down.
I felt my body moving, my vantage point shifting until it felt external and remote, becoming a casual observer of my own sordid submission. I slipped forwards from the chair to my knees, scarcely able to believe that I was doing this, barely understanding the myriad thoughts and feelings that were running through my mind. An insistent throb rose between my legs, a drumbeat of novel desire that thrilled and confused me with every deep pulse.
I glanced up at her and our eyes met, an electric spark of connection passing between us as she held her foot out towards me. She nodded and smiled, then pointed downwards again; that lazy, expectant gesture that I found so difficult to resist.
Reaching forwards with trembling hands, I took her shoe by its long heel and slowly lifted it from her foot, relishing the unveiling with an instinct that I didn't recognize but embraced like an old friend.
Tasting freedom, her foot flexed, toes stretching back and splaying out, causing the dark line of her pantyhose seam to ripple like a mathematical curve as her digits danced. It was hypnotic, irresistible. I felt a warm wetness between my legs, soaking my panties as my anticipation rose. My breathing quickened to fast, deep sighs and I caught her scent in my nose for the first time. An intoxicating cocktail of shoe leather and sweat and floral perfume, each bold note complimenting the others and overwhelming my senses with the closeness of the other woman and the intimacy the encounter.
My mind raced, struggling to handle the cascade of new feelings surging through it. I surrendered to my instincts and allowed myself to be guided by the new hunger that had possessed me utterly. My fingers wrapped around her foot and halted its mesmerizing motion, gripping the soft, velvety length of it and holding it before my face. The universe seemed to collapse to a tunnel; my one focus becoming Ms. Monroe's foot, the bold fixation of my raging desire.
For the briefest of moments the old me exerted itself, a stranger in this new reality, and demand to know what on earth I was doing, why I'd capitulated to her sordid whims with barely a word of protest. But then Ms. Monroe wiggled her toes back and forth impatiently, crimson jewels beneath black nylon, and my old self vanished without so much as a sigh or a whisper.
Leaning forward, I touched my lips to her sole, a tentative, probing kiss like the first taste of adolescent love. The flavor of her filled my being, rich and warm, the essence of woman, and my body demanded more. I kissed her again, flicking my tongue across her nylon covered flesh, sampling her like a fine wine. Each taste made me hunger for more, each kiss made my heart and mind sing in a glorious chorus of desire.
I moved to her toes, wrapping my lips around her, feeling them squirm in my mouth as my tongue lapped at her. Her pantyhose became soaked, the darkening wetness of my uncontrollable lust. I buried my face in her sole, pushing my nose into the space behind her toes, and breathed in, filling myself with her, consuming her like a vapor, melding our mutual desire into a glorious single entity. Faster and faster I moved, lost in my exploration, provoking the drumbeat between my legs to a fast crescendo, devouring her toes and sole and heel with the passion of unexpected lust.
And then she moved, uncrossing her legs and pulling her foot from my mouth. I gasped and blinked, shocked into awareness by the sudden absence, but I held onto her foot like a prize. Before me, Ms. Monroe shifted in her seat and parted her legs, reaching down and tugging her smart, crisp skirt up her shapely thighs. Without thinking, I gasped again as I glimpsed her pussy, exposed and frozen beneath the soft, dark gauze of her sheer pantyhose, the absence of panties shocking the part of me that was still shocked by such trivial omissions. With growing fascination, I studied the complex folds of her sex, a glorious topography that I found myself longing to chart.
Then she spoke, her voice low and rich, dripping with expectation and hot, sultry desire.
"I knew you'd be a good girl Ella."
And I knew then that I was going to be a very good girl indeed.

I really hope Ms. Monroe took you home with her car that day after work.
and there you did what you couldn't do in the office. worshiping her lovely legs and feet, this time without any hindrance between your tongue and the white soft smooth skin of her soles, arches, pedied toes, and between them

Thank you so much. your words are magic. never ever seen an author to write with such passion about other women's feet. I really needed and need you

 

[SaraDarkened]

Yeah, fine, I've started checking out every girl for nylons.

 

[redder00]

Yeah, fine, I've started checking out every girl for nylons.

You should have never come here sweetie... now you'll do this for the rest of your life.
and it's only the beginning. it gets worse ... you'll get caught a lot while starring at other girls' legs, shoes and sandals, the way they dangle them, the shape and color of their toes, or their bare feet while they're in flip flops at park or other public places.
it's not a fetish... it's a disease.

 

[SaraDarkened]

You should have never come here sweetie... now you'll do this for the rest of your life.
and it's only the beginning. it gets worse ... you'll get caught a lot while starring at other girls' legs, shoes and sandals, the way they dangle them, the shape and color of their toes, or their bare feet while they're in flip flops at park or other public places.
it's not a fetish... it's a disease.

In my defense, a dangling heel has always been powerfully distracting.

 

[redder00]

In my defense, a dangling heel has always been powerfully distracting.

hmmm. as I always say. *grins*
Many people have this without even realising it and knowing about it. they just need something or someone to trigger it. to awaken their inner foot-whore.

 

[SaraDarkened]

hmmm. as I always say. *grins*
Many people have this without even realising it and knowing about it. they just need something or someone to trigger it. to awaken their inner foot-whore.

And it is gorgeous today.
Which means...
whimper

 

[EllaFord]

Don't get me started on dangling heels... oh, okay then...

---

You see her in the crowded coffee shop, sitting by the window, golden hair radiant in the early morning sunshine. Your eyes linger for a moment, attracted by the shapely curve of her legs; black nylon and high heeled pumps, raised foot tracing lazy circles in the air beneath the table.

She looks up, glancing at the clock on the wall. Her eye catches yours and you look away quickly, a hot flush rising in your cheeks. She smirks and returns to her paper, touching a single slender finger to her cheek, toying with her earring.

You risk another look, unable to resist. Gazing across the room, you watch as she flexes her toes, slipping her shoe off, allowing the exquisite heel to hang from her foot. You look on, mesmerized, following the slow bounce as she rocks her leg back and forth. You feel a familiar warmth as her foot is revealed, visible in all its sensual glory: the bend of her toes, the curve of her arch, the soft flesh of her sole. You can't look away, you can't break the trance that the rhythmic motion has put you in.

She looks up again and you don't try to hide your interest this time. A base instinct tells you that this elaborate show is for your benefit. She smiles nervously, blinking twice, idly playing with her coffee cup. All the while, her shoe hangs there, swaying in place like a hypnotist's watch.

Your senses rage, overwhelming you with new urges. You long for the shoe to fall, to run over there, to pick it up, slip it over her painted toes, to smell her, to touch her, to...

She smiles again and reaches down, sliding her shoe back onto her foot. She grabs her purse and stands, turning towards the door. As she leaves, she looks back, finding you with laser focus. She winks and then she's gone. But still the warmth remains.

https://i.imgur.com/DIsUHUV.jpg
https://i.imgur.com/t3qZZaj.jpg
https://i.imgur.com/1mFFB0i.jpg
https://i.imgur.com/QmKpgp7.jpg
https://i.imgur.com/ZnF86ON.jpg
https://i.imgur.com/OjI8O6i.jpg
https://i.imgur.com/71g3Qpo.jpg

 

[SaraDarkened]

Don't get me started on dangling heels... oh, okay then...

---

You see her in the crowded coffee shop, sitting by the window, golden hair radiant in the early morning sunshine. Your eyes linger for a moment, attracted by the shapely curve of her legs; black nylon and high heeled pumps, raised foot tracing lazy circles in the air beneath the table.

She looks up, glancing at the clock on the wall. Her eye catches yours and you look away quickly, a hot flush rising in your cheeks. She smirks and returns to her paper, touching a single slender finger to her cheek, toying with her earring.

You risk another look, unable to resist. Gazing across the room, you watch as she flexes her toes, slipping her shoe off, allowing the exquisite heel to hang from her foot. You look on, mesmerized, following the slow bounce as she rocks her leg back and forth. You feel a familiar warmth as her foot is revealed, visible in all its sensual glory: the bend of her toes, the curve of her arch, the soft flesh of her sole. You can't look away, you can't break the trance that the rhythmic motion has put you in.

She looks up again and you don't try to hide your interest this time. A base instinct tells you that this elaborate show is for your benefit. She smiles nervously, blinking twice, idly playing with her coffee cup. All the while, her shoe hangs there, swaying in place like a hypnotist's watch.

Your senses rage, overwhelming you with new urges. You long for the shoe to fall, to run over there, to pick it up, slip it over her painted toes, to smell her, to touch her, to...

She smiles again and reaches down, sliding her shoe back onto her foot. She grabs her purse and stands, turning towards the door. As she leaves, she looks back, finding you with laser focus. She winks and then she's gone. But still the warmth remains.

https://i.imgur.com/DIsUHUV.jpg
https://i.imgur.com/t3qZZaj.jpg
https://i.imgur.com/1mFFB0i.jpg
https://i.imgur.com/QmKpgp7.jpg
https://i.imgur.com/ZnF86ON.jpg
https://i.imgur.com/OjI8O6i.jpg
https://i.imgur.com/71g3Qpo.jpg

You are horrible
notices my shoe is dangling

 

[EllaFord]

You are horrible
notices my shoe is dangling

I'm actually jealous of you honey!

I remember discovering that I liked feet several years ago. Although, while it felt like a discovery at the time, in hindsight it was more of an acceptance. But regardless of what it was, it was such a wonderful journey to take

 

[redder00]

^^ damn! I really need a foot orgy with you lovely girls. right now !

 

[SaraDarkened]

^^ damn! I really need a foot orgy with you lovely girls. right now !

Toe nibbling?

 

[redder00]

Toe nibbling?

Toe nibbling, toe suckling, licking arches, sniffing, biting heels ... whatever you say hun *grins*

https://i.imgur.com/vMKkQEZ.jpg
https://i.imgur.com/37F2bEt.jpg
https://i.imgur.com/FAAt5hv.jpg
https://i.imgur.com/7LQuI9v.jpg

 

[SaraDarkened]

THink I'm gonna need my toy, while you do that

 

[redder00]

THink I'm gonna need my toy, while you do that

you wouldn't need a toy. I can change position and use my tongue on somewhere else whenever you ask and btw, there are always 2 tongues available in a threesome

 

[SaraDarkened]

you wouldn't need a toy. I can change position and use my tongue on somewhere else whenever you ask and btw, there are always 2 tongues available in a threesome

Come.

Here.

giggles

 

[redder00]

Come.

Here.

giggles

shhhhh. no need to say anything. only look at me, raise your leg up and wiggle your cute colored toes before me...

 

[SaraDarkened]

shhhhh. no need to say anything. only look at me, raise your leg up and wiggle your cute colored toes before me...

extends dainty foot, nails painted a little-girl-pink

 

[redder00]

extends dainty foot, nails painted a little-girl-pink

comes closer on all fours, stares at it in wonder with a deep hunger and eagerness in her eyes, slowly grabs the cute little delicate foot from the heel. and places it on her face. breathes deeply and sends the pleasant scent of her body and perfume into her lungs, then stands on her knees, bends her neck, places her lips on top of her toes, and slowly kisses it. a slow, but long kiss. the first of so many...

 

[SaraDarkened]

comes closer on all fours, stares at it in wonder with a deep hunger and eagerness in her eyes, slowly grabs the cute little delicate foot from the heel. and places it on her face. breathes deeply and sends the pleasant scent of her body and perfume into her lungs, then stands on her knees, bends her neck, places her lips on top of her toes, and slowly kisses it. a slow, but long kiss. the first of so many...

Makes tiny happy sounds. Eyes glowing down at her little...foot whore

 

[redder00]

Makes tiny happy sounds. Eyes glowing down at her little...foot whore

Just wondering to what those ' tiny happy sounds' turn to when I place the tip of my tongue on the very bottom of your heel, and lick your pretty arch and sole, hard, deep and long, all the way up to your sensitive toes.

 

[SaraDarkened]

Just wondering to what those ' tiny happy sounds' turn to when I place the tip of my tongue on the very bottom of your heel, and lick your pretty arch and sole, hard, deep and long, all the way up to your sensitive toes.

Giggles and purrs, probably.
If you want moans, you'll need to use teeth...foot-whore.

 

[LionsGirl]

https://i.imgur.com/GODopfr.jpg

--oh my..!! All I can say is wow!!!! I've never really thought about feet in a sexual way. Your story is so wet and erotic. I love the feeling of submission as I read it. I really hope you'll write more.

It was her certainty that threw me; the way she skillfully tossed the directive into the conversation like a casual observation. One minute we were talking about the minutiae of office life, toner supplies or stationery vendors, I can't even remember what, and the next she was asking me to... well...
"Get on your knees and crawl under my desk," she said, glancing up from her paperwork, her dark eyes suddenly narrow and focused, mouth curled up in a sultry smile.
"Ms. Monroe?" I replied, sure that I'd misheard her.
"I said, get on your knees and crawl under my desk."
She leaned her head to the side and rested her chin on her upturned palm, then absentmindedly pointed downwards with her other hand. My gaze followed her motion as she slowly crossed her legs beneath the desk. The oppressive silence of the room was interrupted by the soft swish of her nylon covered thighs brushing together like the gentle brush of a lover's caress.
"I'm not sure I understand," I said, though that wasn't quite true. A tidal wave of remembered office rumours rose in my mind as I recalled the hushed bathroom talk about Alice Monroe and her curious appetites; rumours I'd dismissed as scurrilous slander, the incessant chattering of the secretary pool gossips.
Ms. Monroe frowned and sat forward, clasping her hands together before her and drawing her feet beneath her seat. She fixed me with an icy glare, then beamed her viper smile. I felt myself shrink under her scrutiny, cowering before the overwhelming presence of this maddeningly compelling woman.
"I want you to listen carefully, Ella, because I'm going to say this only once," she began, her voice low and steady, almost monotone, the kind of intonation you use when giving a child her final warning. "In approximately twenty seconds, you're going to get down on your knees and crawl under my desk. You're going to remove my shoes and you're going to wrap those pretty, painted lips around my foot as though it was your boyfriend's cock. My feet have been in these heels all day long and they need attention."
I glanced down again, unable to parse what was being asked of me. Beneath the desk, Ms. Monroe offered her foot out to me and flicked her toes upwards, slipping the shoe from her heel and letting it dangle back and forth lazily. I returned my gaze to Ms. Monroe's face. The corner of her mouth rose in a suggestive smirk.
"If you're a good girl," she began, emphasizing the words 'good girl' with a purposeful focus, "then I'll let you eat my pussy later."
Her words hung in the air between us like an accusation, my short term fate detailed in that single sentence and left for my inspection. My instincts told me to stand and run, to leave the office and the building and the whole awful job. I considered pleading with her, telling her that I wasn't a lesbian, that I didn't do those kinds of things, that she had the wrong girl. But I said nothing. Deep down, I knew that such protestations would be futile at best and dishonest at worst. Instead, my eyes dropped below her desk once more and fixated on the slowly swinging shoe that hung from her foot; the curve of her arch, the perplexing softness of her sole flashing into view as her foot dipped slowly up and down.
I felt my body moving, my vantage point shifting until it felt external and remote, becoming a casual observer of my own sordid submission. I slipped forwards from the chair to my knees, scarcely able to believe that I was doing this, barely understanding the myriad thoughts and feelings that were running through my mind. An insistent throb rose between my legs, a drumbeat of novel desire that thrilled and confused me with every deep pulse.
I glanced up at her and our eyes met, an electric spark of connection passing between us as she held her foot out towards me. She nodded and smiled, then pointed downwards again; that lazy, expectant gesture that I found so difficult to resist.
Reaching forwards with trembling hands, I took her shoe by its long heel and slowly lifted it from her foot, relishing the unveiling with an instinct that I didn't recognize but embraced like an old friend.
Tasting freedom, her foot flexed, toes stretching back and splaying out, causing the dark line of her pantyhose seam to ripple like a mathematical curve as her digits danced. It was hypnotic, irresistible. I felt a warm wetness between my legs, soaking my panties as my anticipation rose. My breathing quickened to fast, deep sighs and I caught her scent in my nose for the first time. An intoxicating cocktail of shoe leather and sweat and floral perfume, each bold note complimenting the others and overwhelming my senses with the closeness of the other woman and the intimacy the encounter.
My mind raced, struggling to handle the cascade of new feelings surging through it. I surrendered to my instincts and allowed myself to be guided by the new hunger that had possessed me utterly. My fingers wrapped around her foot and halted its mesmerizing motion, gripping the soft, velvety length of it and holding it before my face. The universe seemed to collapse to a tunnel; my one focus becoming Ms. Monroe's foot, the bold fixation of my raging desire.
For the briefest of moments the old me exerted itself, a stranger in this new reality, and demand to know what on earth I was doing, why I'd capitulated to her sordid whims with barely a word of protest. But then Ms. Monroe wiggled her toes back and forth impatiently, crimson jewels beneath black nylon, and my old self vanished without so much as a sigh or a whisper.
Leaning forward, I touched my lips to her sole, a tentative, probing kiss like the first taste of adolescent love. The flavor of her filled my being, rich and warm, the essence of woman, and my body demanded more. I kissed her again, flicking my tongue across her nylon covered flesh, sampling her like a fine wine. Each taste made me hunger for more, each kiss made my heart and mind sing in a glorious chorus of desire.
I moved to her toes, wrapping my lips around her, feeling them squirm in my mouth as my tongue lapped at her. Her pantyhose became soaked, the darkening wetness of my uncontrollable lust. I buried my face in her sole, pushing my nose into the space behind her toes, and breathed in, filling myself with her, consuming her like a vapor, melding our mutual desire into a glorious single entity. Faster and faster I moved, lost in my exploration, provoking the drumbeat between my legs to a fast crescendo, devouring her toes and sole and heel with the passion of unexpected lust.
And then she moved, uncrossing her legs and pulling her foot from my mouth. I gasped and blinked, shocked into awareness by the sudden absence, but I held onto her foot like a prize. Before me, Ms. Monroe shifted in her seat and parted her legs, reaching down and tugging her smart, crisp skirt up her shapely thighs. Without thinking, I gasped again as I glimpsed her pussy, exposed and frozen beneath the soft, dark gauze of her sheer pantyhose, the absence of panties shocking the part of me that was still shocked by such trivial omissions. With growing fascination, I studied the complex folds of her sex, a glorious topography that I found myself longing to chart.
Then she spoke, her voice low and rich, dripping with expectation and hot, sultry desire.
"I knew you'd be a good girl Ella."
And I knew then that I was going to be a very good girl indeed.

--oh my..!! All I can say is wow!!!! I've never really thought about feet in a sexual way. Your story is so wet and erotic. I love the feeling of submission as I read it. I really hope you'll write more.

 

[EllaFord]

--oh my..!! All I can say is wow!!!! I've never really thought about feet in a sexual way. Your story is so wet and erotic. I love the feeling of submission as I read it. I really hope you'll write more.

I think I can probably manage that

 

[redder00]

Giggles and purrs, probably.
If you want moans, you'll need to use teeth...foot-whore.

http://38.media.tumblr.com/176554b3fd612301495a707a91084c78/tumblr_mvcpjp9AjN1slx3rko1_400.gif

Like that?