This story was over on the Foot Fetish Site Mousepad and was written by a lady named JenSorel and I thought it belonged here because it is very well written.
I am also posting Part II in a seperate thread.
F/F Adult themes
Stays In Vegas
by JenSorel
I love seeing someone’s toes for the very first time.
Just adore it.
I’m speeding down I-15 in my somewhat new convertible with a somewhat new friend. She’s young and sexy and has been driving me absolutely crazy for the last two hours, ever since I picked her up at her place and she plopped her tempting body into my car.
We’re heading to Vegas for the weekend. I’m wearing a tight beige sweater that flaunts my taunt midriff, a short denim skirt that flaunts a pair of tanned thighs, and my cozy tan Uggs on my flawless size sevens.
I’m not going to even give a hint at what color my nails are painted. You should know by now.
My companion exits her abode wearing a pair of slides, a very mini black skirt, and two, count ‘em two, sexy tank tops -- one white and one pink. She’s so young, I’m thinking her feet just might be virgins.
Can’t wait to see them. Can’t wait to taste them.
It takes one hundred and thirty-seven miles, but she finally slips her sexy feet out of her pointy Hollywould slides to reveal her size sixes to me.
I love this moment. Just adore it.
My eyes dart from the road to the floor and back as I discreetly check out her naked extremities.
They look delicious. Utterly delectable. So worth the wait. So young and tempting.
They are long and thin feet, the skin slightly tanned and incredibly smooth all over. The tops slope down from her trim ankles and slide into her toes. It all looks like a fun ride that my lips, nose and tongue are sure to enjoy over and over again.
Her lengthy toes look so amazingly tasty, each one pristine. Each one a slender digit with a unique personality, painted to look like one next-door, but so one-of-kind and so scrumptious. Her neat and pedicured nails are colored with a trendy white polish that almost seems to glow in the sunlight.
Can’t take my eyes off of them.
Her long toes bend at their midpoint like succulent pieces of shrimp in an appetizing cocktail. I see only glimpses of the dollops of flesh that I know hang from each toe. At mile one-forty-six images of enjoying those dollops with some champagne begin to dance in my head.
I push my right foot downward and make us go really, really fast.
She giggles and rubs her legs together.
“Like that?” I inquire.
“Love it!” she replies.
“You have pretty feet,” I say, beginning to do what I do best.
She glances down toward the floorboards, where she’s keeping her feet. She fans her toes quite possible unconsciously and says, “Thanks” with a slightly befuddled tone.
“I like pretty feet,” I say loud enough so she can hear me. The top is down and the wind is whipping as we speed toward Sin City. It feels good. She looks good. And our talk is turning me on.
“I know. I gathered that the night we met, from that game of footsy we played at that dinner. After the shoot. Remember?”
“Oh yeah. Was it that obvious?”
“Yeah. It was. It is.”
“What do you think of that?”
“It’s different. Maybe a little odd. Maybe a little intriguing.”
“Intriguing. I like that.”
She crosses her legs and bobs her bared right foot for seven miles. Seven tantalizing miles.
“Do you like them?”
“What?”
“Feet.”
“I like that mine are cute and not ugly”
“Yours are more than cute. They’re sexy as hell.”
“Intriguing,” she says with a little giggle. She then places that right foot on the passenger side dashboard for fifteen miles, adding her left to the show for miles one-seventy-tow through one-seventy-seven. I scrutinize both feet in the sunlight.
They’re utterly gorgeous.
She’s driving me crazy and she knows it.
At mile one-seventy-seven, she shifts and sits on her right foot and I see her curvy sole and the underside of her toes for the first time. I realize here, as we pass Barstow, California how much I adore the dollops of flesh that hang from sexy toes on every foot.
I press my right foot down on the pedal that speeds us toward Sin City and glance down at the sole that’s smiling up at me.
The mesmerizing sole is inches from the stick shift and inches from my hand. I move a finger and tickle her sole with one of my nails.
She flinches and yelps, “Stop. Jen! That tickles.”
“Feet. Ticklish and sexy as hell. Yummy! My favorite kind”
She laughs. Then she reaches over and squeezes my thigh. Just for a moment, but enough to send a jolt of pleasure up and in between my legs, resulting in something festive and wet.
“Vegas, baby,” I say, glancing at my hope-to-be lover, whose dark hair is whipping in the wind and looking like something in a captivating movie. “We’re going to have so much fun this weekend.”
“I have a feeling you make every place fun,” she says, looking at me just like a soon-to-be lover.
I then take my hand off the steering wheel and my hungry fingers travel about two feet to tickle the bottom of her tempting foot again. My nails dance across her sole and my fingers slide up her arch to her little toes, making the girl go, “Ooohh! Hey, that really tickles.”
“Then I’ll have to remember that.” I say squeezing her big toe with two fingers right before my hand leaves her sole and her hand leaves my thigh.
“Jennifer. You’re crazy.”
“I just know how to have fun.”
“I can tell.”
After that she very knowingly tempts me with her feet for the rest of the ride in an assortment of imaginative ways.
I love that. Just adore it.
Finally in Vegas, we throw our bags in our rooms and freshen up. I hurriedly brush my teeth, check make-up and reapply my lipstick. A little perfume and, in no time, I’m in the hall and in front of her door.
KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!
DRIP! DRIP! DRIP!
She answers, barefoot and on the phone. She motions me in and I obey. I check out her feet as she slips them into her slides. There they go, all covered up again.
She does what I just did as she talks on her cell. She checks her make-up. Applies some lipstick. She brushes her teeth while chatting. Then she hangs up. “I’ll be right out,” she says as she closes the bathroom door. She pees.
I wait. I wiggle my toes, all warm and snug in my Uggs. They want out. The want to be loved. The want to be adored.
It seems they’ll have to wait.
“How about a trip downstairs for a little gambling and some drinks?” she says as she exits the bathroom.
I frown. I guess don’t have a poker face, because she giggles and says, “Don’t pout, Jen. You can try and seduce me later.” She laughs again.
I don’t see what’s so funny and begin to wonder if the girl is playing games. I begin to wonder if she’ll be a tease, or a tough one to win over. Thought I had in her in the car, but now I’m not so sure.
I smile. “Let’s gamble!”
“That’s my girl.”
We enter the elevator and I push the down button. As I turn to her, she says, “I am so glad you made me to come.”
She says it innocently, but her suggestive words hang in the air for a moment, then I take a huge leap of faith and whisper, “Haven’t made you come.” With a very sexy smile I add, “Yet.”
The words make her blush, then laugh out loud.
I take a step forward and invade her space. I place a hand on her back and pull her toward me. Our bellies slide against another, our breasts smash together and, as our thighs clamp together, we kiss. Our lips come together and the softness of the kiss makes my knees weak and my center awash with festively wet joy. I move my hand across the small of her back as our tongues dance together.
Then I grab her cheeks, the pair of cheeks down there. I squeeze the youngness out of them.
She’s not laughing any more. She moans. Then groans.
I smile. I sigh when my fingers encounter her own wetness, as my hands travel under her miniskirt only to find no panties and a puddle in my honor.
Our lips part and she whispers, “Make me come.”
I move in for another kiss and reply, “Soon. Very soon,” just before our lips touch again, just as another kiss blows my mind. I lick her chin. “It’ll be so worth the wait. Trust me.”
That’s when I feel her bared right sole slide down my left leg, from the back of my burning thigh, to the ticklish underside of my knee and into the snugness of the top of my Ugg. Her toes dive in and tickle my calf. “Like that?” she whispers.
“Love that.” I confirm with the words and then a deep wet kiss.
As our elevator drops some thirty floors, I fall for the girl I drove to Vegas with and even before we reach the casino floor I feel like I’ve won.
Can’t wait to taste her toes. Can’t wait to taste her toes. Can’t wait to taste her toes.
Did I mention I cannot wait to taste her toes?
When we reach the lobby and the doors slide open, we act professional as we exit the elevator.
A few photographers in the lobby take her picture. They always do. See, my soon-to-be lover is quite famous. She smiles at the camera, plays to their lenses. They eat her up, as will I.
What’s her name?
Sorry. What happens in Vegas must always and will always stay in Vegas.
I am also posting Part II in a seperate thread.
F/F Adult themes
Stays In Vegas
by JenSorel
I love seeing someone’s toes for the very first time.
Just adore it.
I’m speeding down I-15 in my somewhat new convertible with a somewhat new friend. She’s young and sexy and has been driving me absolutely crazy for the last two hours, ever since I picked her up at her place and she plopped her tempting body into my car.
We’re heading to Vegas for the weekend. I’m wearing a tight beige sweater that flaunts my taunt midriff, a short denim skirt that flaunts a pair of tanned thighs, and my cozy tan Uggs on my flawless size sevens.
I’m not going to even give a hint at what color my nails are painted. You should know by now.
My companion exits her abode wearing a pair of slides, a very mini black skirt, and two, count ‘em two, sexy tank tops -- one white and one pink. She’s so young, I’m thinking her feet just might be virgins.
Can’t wait to see them. Can’t wait to taste them.
It takes one hundred and thirty-seven miles, but she finally slips her sexy feet out of her pointy Hollywould slides to reveal her size sixes to me.
I love this moment. Just adore it.
My eyes dart from the road to the floor and back as I discreetly check out her naked extremities.
They look delicious. Utterly delectable. So worth the wait. So young and tempting.
They are long and thin feet, the skin slightly tanned and incredibly smooth all over. The tops slope down from her trim ankles and slide into her toes. It all looks like a fun ride that my lips, nose and tongue are sure to enjoy over and over again.
Her lengthy toes look so amazingly tasty, each one pristine. Each one a slender digit with a unique personality, painted to look like one next-door, but so one-of-kind and so scrumptious. Her neat and pedicured nails are colored with a trendy white polish that almost seems to glow in the sunlight.
Can’t take my eyes off of them.
Her long toes bend at their midpoint like succulent pieces of shrimp in an appetizing cocktail. I see only glimpses of the dollops of flesh that I know hang from each toe. At mile one-forty-six images of enjoying those dollops with some champagne begin to dance in my head.
I push my right foot downward and make us go really, really fast.
She giggles and rubs her legs together.
“Like that?” I inquire.
“Love it!” she replies.
“You have pretty feet,” I say, beginning to do what I do best.
She glances down toward the floorboards, where she’s keeping her feet. She fans her toes quite possible unconsciously and says, “Thanks” with a slightly befuddled tone.
“I like pretty feet,” I say loud enough so she can hear me. The top is down and the wind is whipping as we speed toward Sin City. It feels good. She looks good. And our talk is turning me on.
“I know. I gathered that the night we met, from that game of footsy we played at that dinner. After the shoot. Remember?”
“Oh yeah. Was it that obvious?”
“Yeah. It was. It is.”
“What do you think of that?”
“It’s different. Maybe a little odd. Maybe a little intriguing.”
“Intriguing. I like that.”
She crosses her legs and bobs her bared right foot for seven miles. Seven tantalizing miles.
“Do you like them?”
“What?”
“Feet.”
“I like that mine are cute and not ugly”
“Yours are more than cute. They’re sexy as hell.”
“Intriguing,” she says with a little giggle. She then places that right foot on the passenger side dashboard for fifteen miles, adding her left to the show for miles one-seventy-tow through one-seventy-seven. I scrutinize both feet in the sunlight.
They’re utterly gorgeous.
She’s driving me crazy and she knows it.
At mile one-seventy-seven, she shifts and sits on her right foot and I see her curvy sole and the underside of her toes for the first time. I realize here, as we pass Barstow, California how much I adore the dollops of flesh that hang from sexy toes on every foot.
I press my right foot down on the pedal that speeds us toward Sin City and glance down at the sole that’s smiling up at me.
The mesmerizing sole is inches from the stick shift and inches from my hand. I move a finger and tickle her sole with one of my nails.
She flinches and yelps, “Stop. Jen! That tickles.”
“Feet. Ticklish and sexy as hell. Yummy! My favorite kind”
She laughs. Then she reaches over and squeezes my thigh. Just for a moment, but enough to send a jolt of pleasure up and in between my legs, resulting in something festive and wet.
“Vegas, baby,” I say, glancing at my hope-to-be lover, whose dark hair is whipping in the wind and looking like something in a captivating movie. “We’re going to have so much fun this weekend.”
“I have a feeling you make every place fun,” she says, looking at me just like a soon-to-be lover.
I then take my hand off the steering wheel and my hungry fingers travel about two feet to tickle the bottom of her tempting foot again. My nails dance across her sole and my fingers slide up her arch to her little toes, making the girl go, “Ooohh! Hey, that really tickles.”
“Then I’ll have to remember that.” I say squeezing her big toe with two fingers right before my hand leaves her sole and her hand leaves my thigh.
“Jennifer. You’re crazy.”
“I just know how to have fun.”
“I can tell.”
After that she very knowingly tempts me with her feet for the rest of the ride in an assortment of imaginative ways.
I love that. Just adore it.
Finally in Vegas, we throw our bags in our rooms and freshen up. I hurriedly brush my teeth, check make-up and reapply my lipstick. A little perfume and, in no time, I’m in the hall and in front of her door.
KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!
DRIP! DRIP! DRIP!
She answers, barefoot and on the phone. She motions me in and I obey. I check out her feet as she slips them into her slides. There they go, all covered up again.
She does what I just did as she talks on her cell. She checks her make-up. Applies some lipstick. She brushes her teeth while chatting. Then she hangs up. “I’ll be right out,” she says as she closes the bathroom door. She pees.
I wait. I wiggle my toes, all warm and snug in my Uggs. They want out. The want to be loved. The want to be adored.
It seems they’ll have to wait.
“How about a trip downstairs for a little gambling and some drinks?” she says as she exits the bathroom.
I frown. I guess don’t have a poker face, because she giggles and says, “Don’t pout, Jen. You can try and seduce me later.” She laughs again.
I don’t see what’s so funny and begin to wonder if the girl is playing games. I begin to wonder if she’ll be a tease, or a tough one to win over. Thought I had in her in the car, but now I’m not so sure.
I smile. “Let’s gamble!”
“That’s my girl.”
We enter the elevator and I push the down button. As I turn to her, she says, “I am so glad you made me to come.”
She says it innocently, but her suggestive words hang in the air for a moment, then I take a huge leap of faith and whisper, “Haven’t made you come.” With a very sexy smile I add, “Yet.”
The words make her blush, then laugh out loud.
I take a step forward and invade her space. I place a hand on her back and pull her toward me. Our bellies slide against another, our breasts smash together and, as our thighs clamp together, we kiss. Our lips come together and the softness of the kiss makes my knees weak and my center awash with festively wet joy. I move my hand across the small of her back as our tongues dance together.
Then I grab her cheeks, the pair of cheeks down there. I squeeze the youngness out of them.
She’s not laughing any more. She moans. Then groans.
I smile. I sigh when my fingers encounter her own wetness, as my hands travel under her miniskirt only to find no panties and a puddle in my honor.
Our lips part and she whispers, “Make me come.”
I move in for another kiss and reply, “Soon. Very soon,” just before our lips touch again, just as another kiss blows my mind. I lick her chin. “It’ll be so worth the wait. Trust me.”
That’s when I feel her bared right sole slide down my left leg, from the back of my burning thigh, to the ticklish underside of my knee and into the snugness of the top of my Ugg. Her toes dive in and tickle my calf. “Like that?” she whispers.
“Love that.” I confirm with the words and then a deep wet kiss.
As our elevator drops some thirty floors, I fall for the girl I drove to Vegas with and even before we reach the casino floor I feel like I’ve won.
Can’t wait to taste her toes. Can’t wait to taste her toes. Can’t wait to taste her toes.
Did I mention I cannot wait to taste her toes?
When we reach the lobby and the doors slide open, we act professional as we exit the elevator.
A few photographers in the lobby take her picture. They always do. See, my soon-to-be lover is quite famous. She smiles at the camera, plays to their lenses. They eat her up, as will I.
What’s her name?
Sorry. What happens in Vegas must always and will always stay in Vegas.
