Your erotic stories

"You know what I want." "Yes," I answer. I drop to my knees. She smiles down at me and parts her legs. Her right leg extends towards me. I take her foot in my left hand and with my right I undo the strap of her shoe. I remove it and toss it aside. I close my eyes and rub her foot against my cheek, loving the smooth, sensual feel of her skin against my face. Gently, ever so gently I kiss her ankle.

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The morning rush had already been hectic, and squeezing through a throng of people equally hell bent on making the same train, to the same station, at the same time; Amy Lynn Steele felt glad to just have a seat as she plunked herself down on the hard plastic and watched the outskirts of Boston zip past. She had done it now for the past sixty five days, and while she was beginning to get used to the routine, she was also getting used to seeing the same people aboard the crowded train.

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The absolute worst thing about being a student, living in a crappy, run down apartment, has to be having no access to laundry facilities. On Saturday mornings, when most of Eric's friends were recovering from the night before, or maybe getting some homework done, Eric would be at the laundromat trying to beat the noon rush of other students who lived nearby.

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I was nineteen (about three years ago) when I had my first real life experience testing my foot fetish. I had been aware of my fetish since I was in middle school, always looking under the table at girl's feet. The older I got the stronger the fetish became. I had a couple girlfriends in high school but had never had the courage to tell them about my fetish.

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I recall the exact moment when I realised that my friend John's girlfriend, who's name is Emma, had fantastic, sexy little feet. We were out shopping; we being myself, Jim Hodges and a few others. Those being John, Emma and my girlfriend at the time, Joanna. Joanna and I finished that very night to be honest, but she's not really an integral part of the story anyway.

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Not long after graduating from college with my bachelors, I moved into a house with some of my frat brothers for about two years. I was lucky enough to find a great job that I knew from the start would lead to bigger things if I worked hard enough. The hours were limited, however, so I found myself with more free time on my hands than I wished for.

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"I've been in quite a writing rut lately, with several of my best stories left unfinished for months now. Many people tell me the only way to get out of a writer's block is to keep writing. Hence, I wrote this story based off something peculiar I noticed at a party; a girl sniffing a pair of flats. At first, I amused myself with the idea the girl had a foot fetish, but soon realized they were hers when she immediately put them on.

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So how long have you been into feet? Who am I? What's my name? Irrelevant. You don't need to know my name, my age or my star sign. What you do need to know is that I work as an S2 auditor for Deloitte, a global financial services firm in their Islington based London England branch. I'm attractive, hard working, driven and get on very well with my colleagues, so with this in mind I think you can see how, when I was chosen amongst five other members of my department to take part in the prestigious upcoming Rising Stars exhibition at the Estoria hotel in Manchester, it didn't come as much of a surprise.

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Janet and Clarke had a pretty good sex life, right from the get go. They had that special chemistry that allowed them both to trust each other enough to be comfortable so that they could both get right down to the core of what turned them on. They both had their share of kinky things that they each liked and they always seemed to be discovering new fetishes and turn-ons. But, as comfortable as they both were with each other, there were still things that hadn't been fully realized between them.

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I was on a flight from Vancouver to San Francisco feeling restless and I was anxious to get back home. I tried to get some writing done on the plane, but I couldn't concentrate. There was a father with his young son in the seat behind me constantly crying and kicking my seat. I tried to type, but my energy was gone, so I just stared at the blank screen in front of me.

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