Your erotic stories

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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He couldn't keep his eyes on the road, or his mind on his sales pitch. The sexy blonde was driving barefoot, and all Gavin could think about was how his cum would look on those toes of hers. "Wow, it handles like a dream," the girl said, smiling. The bright sun reflected back from the polished chrome of the gas pedal, the dazzling light gleaming from between her toes.

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"What was your most interesting photo shoot, Natasha?" Alex asked. His digital SLR snapped in the silence of the hotel room. I held my pose, wondering how honest I should be. "Well, I did a shoot last year wearing nothing but body paint," I offered, the over-stuffed comforter pressed softly between my legs.

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It was an ordinary day except for the fact that it was only mid-morning and I was aching for a good hard orgasm. My husband had been out of town for a few days and before that had been my time of the month. It had been a good 10 days since we had a nice rousing session where all the right buttons were pushed and an amazing gasping, moaning, climax was ripped from me. As described in my prior stories, my husband and I enjoy our own flavor of a female led marriage (Nothing more gratifying provides the best background, but all of my stories provide different bits and pieces).

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"I'm so tired!" Ying exclaimed and fell on the large bed she was sharing with her friend and roommate Katie. "Me too!" Katie agreed and lay down right next to Ying. The two high school seniors had just finished another one of these long days of dance trainings and rehearsals for their ballet performance next week and definitely needed some rest. They felt lucky to have been selected as the only ones from their ballet class to join this summer school of a famous dance company in a big city on the East coast. But then again, they had no idea of how intensive it would be and how exhausting; several units of practice every day and performances every two weeks.

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Melissa kicked off her sandals as she walked into her best friend's apartment. Her very drunk best friend was close behind. "I just need a little nap," Amber slurred, shuffling toward the bedroom she shared with her boyfriend Sam. He was spread out on the couch in their living room, reading a magazine.

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