Your erotic stories

For Amy Lynn Steele, it was hard not to reflect upon her current economic situation as she stood in the long line that filled every available representative of the Bureau of Unemployment Compensation. If she had not desperately needed the money, she would have vacated the building a long time ago, but the truth was, she needed the money, even if the weekly pay-out was far less than the amount she got as a Personal Assistant.

Now as the line barely moved, and her feet hurt from teetering in heels for the last hour, she cursed her outfit as another laid-off worker vainly pleaded his case about dependents. Shifting her weight from foot to foot, she could not help but dip her heels in a futile attempt to release some of the pressure from the ball of her foot. It was an act that did not go unnoticed by most of the men who stood in line around her. In fact, for the past hour she realized she had been their personal eye candy, for none of the other woman in the building wore such a formal outfit.

She really had not given her outfit much consideration when she got dressed for the initial unemployment application, as Mr. Bonnet had demanded all of his employees be dressed business formal at work. She had worn the same white long sleeved blouse, black miniskirt and matching black high heels so many times to work, that she was sure her co-workers would think it was the only outfit she owned. In the company of this diversified work force however, Amy’s outfit stood out. Twice she thought she caught another laid off employee pointing his camera phone her way and snapping pictures as she lifted her feet out of her painful shoes. She had promised herself a half hour ago that she would not dip her heels again and be placed on some on-line foot-fetish blog, but the pain came to much, and along with boredom, she found herself pushing her right shoe around in small figure eights with just her toes.

Amy was not sure, but she thought the act was being filmed. The man she had saw earlier with a camera phone had stuffed some electronic device into a mesh pocket in his backpack and was constantly shifting the backpack around on the floor to presumably get a better vantage point of her little foot show. Perhaps it was the boredom of the moment, an exhibitionist side she knew she had, or her heels hurting her feet so bad that she did not care, but Amy did not bother to put her foot back into her shoe. In fact she already knew what the man wanted her to do. With all her free time, she had accidentally discovered people were posting candid shoe play clips on Youtube. She only had to watch a few before some patterns emerged.

Already her shoe play had consisted of heel popping, some dipping and dangling, but what seemed like the holy grail of candid shoe play for the men that liked such things, was capturing a lady pulling her foot completely from the shoe. The fact was Amy would have loved to pull both shoes from her aching feet and stand there barefoot, but she knew that would have been extremely obvious. Instead, Amy pulled her foot completely out of her right shoe and curled her foot around her other foot and flexed her foot, stretchy what was a very aching foot. As she did so, she was sure the man was capturing his dream, a completely unclad foot, bare soles, and spread toes. On the latter, Amy made sure she spread them several times letting the drabby fluorescent lighting of the non-descript waiting room soak through the nylons and show she had painted her toes a bright fire engine red color.

For the next few minutes Amy toyed with her shoes, not upset in the least that her legs and feet would be broadcasted across the net within a few hours. She rocked her foot back upon her black shoes, letting the heel tip back sharply as her toes pressed against the top of the pumps which brought her arches almost completely out of her shoes. With her arches clearly in view, Amy shifted her foot so that her toes were forced down, but only for a second, and only long enough for her to pull her foot completely out of her shoe. Now completely withdrawn, Amy ran her nylon-clad foot slowly along the bottom half of her calf, letting the top of her foot massage her ever tightening calf as she balanced on one foot. That act was for her benefit, but stretching her toes out wide against the constricting fabric of her nylons was completely for the camera, as was pulling her toes upwards to stretch her arches out.

Other shoe play consisted of her having her foot barely back in the black pump and rolling it left and right, forwards and back and onto its side while lifting her heel out of the shoe while twisting. Alternating between this and rocking her shoe backwards while popping her heel again and again from the shoe, Amy was sure she was driving the man giddy with lust. Building upon that, Amy also slid her toes along the inner sole of the shoe letting the man get a full view shot of the bottoms of her foot as it ran slowly down the inclined plane of her heels. With her toes scrunching several times on the boring beige tiled floor, Amy did not care, and it made the boredom of the moment pass by with entertainment, even if her shoes, rolling now on the ball of her foot, the single form of entertainment of the unemployment office. Finally with her bit of exhibitionism complete did she turn to the man that had presumably been filming her, and meet him eye for eye. Only then did she wink and flash him a smile.

“Number eighty one,” came a scratchy reply over the loud speaker, and a moment later Amy scrambled to stuff her foot inside her shoe and walk up to the next available station and plead her unemployed status. There was hardly anything to plead as her benefit amount was automatically calculated and the meager amount was only one step above receiving nothing. Feeling increasingly glum, Amy began to grow angry at the plight she now faced.

“That bastard,” she yelled out upon reaching her car. Throwing her unemployment paperwork into the backseat of her car in anger, Amy began to cry. Suddenly there was a tap on the window, and Amy wiped tears away as she looked up to see the man with the backpack.

“Are you okay Miss? You looked kind of upset when you left in such a huff?”

“Just disappointed I guess.”

“With me filming you or your benefit amount?”

“My benefit amount. Filming me has been the highlight of my day. I kind of figured what you were up to and towards the end of it played into it for you,” Amy said with a shrug of her shoulders, now using a napkin from her glove compartment to wipe some tears away.

“Well here, it’s not much but I don’t make much on these clips either,” he said handing her a fifty dollar bill.

“And you got out of that long line to give me money? It’s okay, if you were in there you need it just as much as me,” she said handing it back. “Besides there is nothing illegal about what you did; as long as you don’t show my face, it’s just something I was doing in public anyway.”

“Wow, I have never been caught and had a lady so open about it. Most of the time they slip their shoes back on and run off like I’m some crazy guy or something.”

“It’s a little creepy to be talking to a man who was just caught secretly filming me inside a dark parking garage, but I have seen the video clips on Youtube and they are harmless enough I guess.”

“Then let me buy you lunch. You must be starved after waiting in line all morning, and I am sure you won’t be going back to your apartment to make a sandwich for yourself just to save a buck; let me buy it…consider it a professional courtesy?”

“Alright, but don’t get any ideas, it’s just lunch.”

The man did not push the issue with his good fortune. Grabbing his backpack he jumped at the opportunity and slid into the passenger’s seat. As he was slipping the seat belt latch into the mechanism, Amy could not help but surprise him with her candor.

“Shoes on or off?”

“What,” he asked unsure of what she meant?

“What is it you guys call it, pedal powering?”

“Oh pedal pumping, which are women driving in high heels, or I guess without them.”

“Yeah, do you want my shoes on or off?”

“You don’t mind me filming you while you drive?

“I figure you are buying lunch, and I am wearing heels, so why not film me as we drive? On Youtube I saw some clips have the ladies bare foot, while others are wearing their heels. It’s whatever you prefer?”

“Maybe start out in heels and then take them off halfway to Bracola’s? But if you don’t mind, I’ll use a little better camera though and maybe capture everything from different angles?”

“Bracola’s huh? Nice choice for lunch, though a little expensive. It will be a nice change from the fast food restaurants I have been eating at lately though, even if I have to hike up my skirt and show some toes,” Amy said with a grin.

Amy watched as the man eagerly rummaged through his back pack and pulled out three small video cameras. He diddled with the controls a bit and strategically placed them. One was on the floorboards and covered her feet and pedals from that level, while another sat near the shifting lever and looked down up her feet and pedals from above. The third one he held in his hands so he could capture everything he saw by moving the camera around. When he finally turned to face Amy, his grin said it all.

True to her word, Amy squirmed in her seat for a second taking some pressure off her bottom by pressing hard against the seat back. In doing so, she had taken the hemline and tucked it under itself so that it was two inches shorter making an already rather short skirt, into a micro skirt.

“You’re an exhibitionist, aren’t you?”

“I don’t know about that. As long as you don’t show my face in any of these clips I guess I don’t really care; but yeah, I’ll play the part.”

Amy really was not sure what to do as she started up her car and began to drive it out of the parking garage. It was a little odd to know a camera was strategically placed on the floor boards and shifter, and that everything Amy did from the waist down was being captured on film. It was also the first time she had wished she had purchased a standard transmission car instead of the automatic, which dispelled with the clutch pedal and all the shifting she would have normally had to do.

“With an automatic its going to be a kind of boring video doesn’t you think?”

“I don’t think so. You got nice legs and don’t mind showing them off, and that tends to manifest itself in video clips like this. I guess just drive like you normally do and we’ll see how it turns out.”

For the next twenty minutes Amy did exactly that, and surprisingly got into a pretty good conversation with the man who was now sitting beside her. She learned that his name was Scott and like her, he had recently been laid off as well. The conversation shifted from that of heels and shoe play to life in general, and she would have forgotten all about the drive being recorded if he had not been holding a video camera as she drove.

Because of this Amy did some shoe tease for the camera. Her right shoe was pretty much limited to pressing on the gas and brake pedal, but with her left foot she could do some heel popping and show her arches and allow peeks at her smooth soles. The need to concentrate on her driving, and maintaining a conversation with Scott, kept her from doing too much, but at stop lights she did reach down and pull her nylons taunt though this was more for the camera’s sake then if was from sagging stockings. She also tried her best to pull her foot back as far into the heel of the shoe as she could so that as much of her toes showed as possible. The small act never revealed her bright red toenail polish, but it did enable the cameras to capture some toe cleavage that a lot of men enjoyed seeing.

As a stop light changed from green to yellow several hundred yards up the road, it became apparent that they would have to stop to let oncoming traffic through. As the car slowed Scott offered his first suggestion for their hastily made video clip.

“This tends to be a rather long light, it might be a good time to take off your shoes and drive barefooted for awhile? I mean, that is if you don’t mind Amy?”

“Are you kidding me? Did you see how long I was standing in these things at the unemployment office? I’ve been dying to take these shoes off.”

As the car came to a stop, Amy reached down to pull them off. It took a bit of a dance on the brake pedal to ensure the car didn’t roll any, but when she was done, she had enough time to pass them to Scott so that the cameras had an unobstructed view. She also had enough time to pull the fabric of her nylons tight so that there was no slack by her toes, and even wiggled her toes some as the light changed to green again.

“Of course technically I’m not barefoot. I’m nylon-footed, but it’s going to take more then a stop light to tug off these nylons.”

“I think I prefer the nylons,” Scott said with a slight shrug.

“I would think stockings would be better for something like this because I could adjust my skirt so that the dark bands near my thighs would be just visible at the hemline; that is always sexy. I would probably wear a toe ring as well and definitely an ankle bracelet, you know just to give the light something to reflect which the camera would immediately pick up on.”

“And you would do all that?”

“Well you would have to spring for a slice of cheery cheesecake at Bracola’s as well, but something tells me you wouldn’t care?”

“Not at all,” he said as my made a right at the last light and slipped into a parking space. He let Amy gather up her shoes and slip them on to her feet and step out of the car as he collected his video cameras. Slipping them discretely into his backpack, he rushed to meet up with her at the trunk of the car as he asked another important question before disappearing into the trendy steakhouse?

“And what’s on the menu for lunch Amy?”

“Well above the table probably a steak, some wine maybe some salad, but under the table definitely some shoe play.”

The fact was, Amy was starting to formulate another plan, and one that was far more devious. They looked like the stereo-typical young couple out enjoying a late lunch both above and below the table. After the drinks were served, Amy excused herself to the powder room which Scott mistakenly took for a signal to set up his camera in his backpack. It still had to be discreet, but as he angled for the shot, Amy intensified things in the bathroom.

It started with her nylons, and she pulled them off her legs quickly and stuffed them into her purse. She rather disliked the way her legs looked bare, but for her plan to take place, she felt it was better if her legs and feet were nylon-free. The next part of her plan included soap, and she pumped as much into the palm of her hand as she could. Cupping her hand into a ball to hide what lay there, she casually strolled back to her seat and sat down.

As the main course of the meal began, Amy feigned eating and only used one hand to shovel her potatoes around with her fork. Underneath the table she pried first one shoe off, and then the other and then began to toe Scott’s leg. Scott instantly tensed up, but smiled as he felt her feet on him. But Amy could not really afford the time to dwell upon seduction. The soap began to soak a bit into her hand, and she knew that it was needed elsewhere. Without warning she slipped her foot up higher until it was in his lap and toeing at his genitals. Instinctively he grasped her foot and began to rub it.

“You took your nylons off.”

“I told you I don’t mind going barefoot.”

“But the cameras can’t see your feet in my lap?”

“I don’t care. I am not doing this for the internet anymore, I’m doing this for you.” And then without warning she said it; a command that had no segue way, just a raw voice that had to be acted upon. “Unzip your pants.”

“Amy,” he said but more of a question then simply her name? Amy did not give him time to question her; she withdrew her feet back and then reached under the table to take the big dollop of hand soap and rubbed it liberally onto her feet. As she extended her feet back she waited for Scott to reach for them, and upon feeling her lubricated feet, he knew instantly what her devious plan was.

“Here”?

Amy only nodded as took her fork and slipped a small piece of potato into her mouth. As she did so, she felt Scott take her feet and work them carefully between his unzippered pants, and over the waistband of his pushed down underwear.

It had been awhile since Amy had given a man a footjob, and certainly never while dining. Still she knew how to give one, and knew control was mostly up to Scott. Already his prick was rock hard and as her feet grazed his shaft, she could not help but swoon at the touch. He knew what he wanted, and it was not long before Amy felt his cock slide between her well-lubricated arches as his wiry pubic hair began to tickle the bottoms of her feet.

It was not a hard position to maintain for Amy, for she simply leaned back against her chair and let Scott hold her feet in position. To slide his shaft between her slickened feet, Scott used a combination of moving his hips as well as pistoning her feet slightly back and forth. Amy added to the pleasure by wiggling her toes and trying to capture the head of his shaft between her toes and the ball of her feet.

The hardest part of the ordeal was trying to maintain their composure and keep what they were doing discreet from the other patrons of the restaurant. Having only a small lunch time crowd helped, but Amy and Scott did not stop their thrilling adventure when the waitress returned to inquire about the quality of their meal. Amy spoke as Scott could only blush and nod at the inquiry. Even then Amy was sure the waitress knew something provocative was really happening under the table, but certainly wanted to leave the couple alone if that was indeed the case. Wiggling her toes upon a very sensitive part of his cock, Scott gritted his teeth as he flashed a desperate look at his dinner date. Only when the waitress walked away did Scott speak.

“You didn’t have to wiggle your toes right then did you?”

“No, but you’re the one getting all the fun out of this. I’m the poor girl who is at the most premier lunch spots in Boston and I got my bare feet wrapped around a complete stranger’s cock. I should be the one complaining, not you.”

“Then do you want me to stop, or go all the way?”

“Amy knew men far better than that, and she knew Scott would no more let her withdraw her feet then he could stop breathing for an hour. But the moment had its pleasures and its power, and with a smile, Amy leaned back and spoke the words every man with a foot fetish dreamed of.

“You can come on my feet.”

The words themselves nearly caused him to erupt, but Amy was not surprised when Scott held both feet with more grip and then started stroking them along his shaft with more vigor. Amy grew wet herself at the feeling of his shaft sliding between her slickened skin. She could feel every bulge, every line and every fold as she tried her best to cover as much of his manliness as she could. Watching his face carefully though, she knew there was not enough time to reach down and touch herself; at least not enough time to bring herself to climax. Scott was nearly there, and she waited for two more pumps along her feet before she took matters into her own hands. Using her powerful thighs, she tugged her feet out of Scott’s heavy grip, and at the last second pressed her feet hard into his cock. She was just able to get her feet into position when he erupted, spilling his seed in powerful, after powerful, ejaculation onto the underside of her toes

It was an incredibly powerful blast, and it seemed to last for round after round, no doubt her seduction in the unemployment office, in the car and then here that brought him to such a powerful climax. But Amy maintained her position on his shaft until the warm, thick, feeling on the bottoms of her toes, began to ebb. Only then did she move her feet around trying to use them as a makeshift napkin to clean her date up as best she could. Satisfied that Scott’s underwear could absorb what little remained, she pulled her feet quickly from his drawers and dipped her feet into her shoes before his baby-batter had a chance to make a noticeable mess on the carpeted floor. Scott was too busy pulling up his pants to notice what Amy had done with her feet, and only after each of them had reclined to a more natural position at the table did he ask.

“Are you headed into the bathroom so you can clean off your feet,” he asked quietly; a look of complete satisfaction taking over his expression as he asked?

“I don’t know, I kind of like how it feels, squishing between my toes and how these shoes feel all slimy inside now. It feels weird, but sort of good too, like a foot massage while wearing high heels.

“I can give you one of those later; at my place perhaps? In fact I was thinking, since you and I are both laid off, we could save a lot of money if we moved in together. You know what they say; two people can live together cheaper then one?”

“It depends on how good of a foot rub you can give me,” she said with a wink.