“Okay, here we go,” I croaked. I grasped the back of her thigh more tightly, and then placed the cold, steel ruler against the bottom of her skirt, on the front of her leg. A quick glance told me that her hemline was a good six inches above the knee, but I’d known that much from a mere visual inspection. To an experienced leg-watcher like myself, hem-length is all important. I pressed the ruler firmly against her leg, and then slowly slid it up underneath her skirt, until the tip of the metal touched her burnished flesh.
“Oh,” she gasped, her emotions running quickly from anger to pleasure, hot to hotter.
I kept on sliding the ruler up her leg, until it touched the edge of her panties, while with my left hand I began openly caressing the back of her leg, stroking up and down from her thigh to the vulnerable spot at the back of her knee, and then back up again – higher and higher each time, slowly and sensuously. My hand slipped underneath her skirt, touched the top of her stocking, felt the rounded flesh that led up to her big, beautiful buttocks.
“Oh, Ms Williams,” she breathed.
I reluctantly pulled my eyes away from her lush, luxurious legs and glanced up at her face. Her eyes were closed, her red, pouty lips open, her body quivering with excitement, her big chest heaving with mounting desire. “Call me, Karen,” I said, for lack of anything poetic to utter. My mind was muddled with the brazen leg-heat of the young, Latina hussy. I sensed that we were well beyond words, anyway, and that’s exactly where I wanted us to be.
I slid the edge of the ruler underneath her panties, rubbed it against her ultra-sensitive skin, firing her pussy, while my other hand caressed and squeezed her butt cheek, revelling in its firm over-fullness. “You’ve got beautiful legs, Vanessa,” I whispered, mesmerized by the feel of her soft, smooth, superheated leg flesh.
“I’ve seen you admiring them, Karen,” she confessed quietly. “And wondered when you would take matters into your own hands.” She stared down at me, her emerald eyes misted over with lust, her nostrils flared with passion-heavy breath. She slowly began to unbutton her blouse.
I dropped the ruler and quickly moved directly between her willowy legs, squatting in front of her, gripping her legs with both of my loving hands. I began stroking her legs, running my hands up and down her thighs, down the back of her legs, the front. Her knees buckled slightly and she gasped, but I kept right on fondling her gorgeous legs. I couldn’t ever get enough of them, but I’d die a blissful death trying.
She tore open her blouse, peeled it off her shoulders, and threw it aside along with her inhibitions. The Venetian blinds on my floor-to-ceiling twentieth-storey office window were open, exposing our wanton desire to the great, big world beyond, but neither of us cared. My own world had shrunk down to the busty young woman’s long, stocking-clad legs, and the wet, smouldering pussy that I knew lay at their apex.
Vanessa frantically unfastened her chaste, pink bra and tossed it away. Her big, beautiful tits spilled out into the open. They were huge – round and heavy, peaked by thick, long, dark-brown nipples that were already fully engorged as a compliment to my preliminary leg work.
“Take off your skirt,” I said in a choked voice, my hands never taking a break from groping her stunning legs.
She fumbled with the fastener on her skirt, her hands shaking and clumsy, until, finally, she succeeded in unhooking it, and the skirt puddled at her feet.
“Yes,” I murmured, as I stared at her satiny, black panties. The contrast between her skin’s deep, rich brownness and the sleek black of her stockings was simply and utterly breathtaking. Her panties were damp at the front, at the bottom. “Sit on the edge of the desk,” I ordered, and she obeyed.
I stood up, turned around, and reached out and slipped my quavering fingers under the top of her right stocking, and began to carefully unroll it from her leg. She lay back on the desk and stuck out her leg, moaning softly as I unrolled her stocking. I tore off her high heels and pulled the stocking from her foot. As I did the same with her left leg, she began to play with her tremendous tits, squeezing and kneading them, gripping their heavy thickness in her small hands. She rolled her inch-long chocolate nipples between her fingers and groaned.
I had both of her stockings in my hands now. They were still warm from the heat of her hot, hot legs, and I rubbed them together, rubbed them against my face, drank in the silky sensuality of the heavenly garments, smelled the sweet smell of young womanhood in them. Then I placed them to the side and grabbed up the fleshy reality of her bare legs. They shone brown and smooth in the light, and I held them by the ankles, and pressed them together. I began sucking on her toes.
“Yes!” she hissed. “Make love to my legs!”
That had been my intention all along. I held her feet together and sucked on as many toes as I could cram into my hungry mouth at once. Then I pulled them dripping wet out of my mouth and flicked my tongue up against them, against the underside of her feet. Her legs jumped in my hands, but I held on tight. I swallowed two of the toes on her left foot – sucking on them, tugging at them with my mouth, playfully biting them. My tongue coated them with saliva, bathed them with my grateful admiration, my mouth worshipping them. I put her feet back together and sucked long and hard on both of her big toes at once, then licked at the soles of her feet again, lapping at the sensitive skin in long, slow –
“Karen! Hello! Karen!”
I gave my head a shake. “Huh, what?” I looked around. Ms Sanchez was standing next to my tiny desk, looking down at me, a stern expression on her face. “Yes, Ms Sanchez?” I asked. I’d been day-dreaming again. And judging by my boss’s angry face, she didn’t know and didn’t care what a big role she had played in that dream.
“Karen, I’d like to see you in my office. Right now!” She abruptly turned around and walked away, my bleary eyes following her big butt, as it bounced underneath her tight, black skirt.
The other girls in the typing pool were looking at me and smiling. I grinned stupidly, got up, straightened out my skirt, and stumbled away from my desk and after Ms Sanchez, knowing that I was going to catch hell – again.
“Yes, Ms Sanchez?” I said glumly, when I’d arrived at the door of her spacious, well-appointed office.
“Come in and shut the door, please, Karen,” she replied briskly. “Have a seat.”
I did as she said and sat down in a comfortable leather chair in front of her large antique desk. She stood in front of me, staring at me with her big, green eyes.
“Karen, your three-month probation period is up today. And this is the fourth time in the last three months that I’ve caught you day-dreaming when you should have been working.” She held up my personnel file, and continued in a businesslike manner, “What are you thinking about when you’re supposed to be working, anyway?”
I blushed scarlet and looked down at my hands.
“Do you have some personal –” She was cut off by the phone ringing. “Just a minute,” she said, and walked around her desk and picked up the phone.
I sucked some cool air into my overworked lungs and made up my mind. It was now or never. I stood and walked over to Vanessa, picked up her hand in mine, pulled her from her chair, and walked her in front of the desk.
“What are you doing!?” she asked, startled by the bad, bold look in my baby-blues. “I –”
Her words caught in her lovely throat when I bent down in front of her and began caressing her legs. “This is what I’ve been dreaming about,” I confided, feeling up her legs with no intention of taking no for an answer.
In a matter of a few fleet minutes that seemed like sexually charged hours, I had her flat on her back on the desk, her hands groping her tremendous tits, polishing her jutting nipples, while I sucked on her slender toes. I sucked both of her big toes into my mouth at once, and my head bobbed up and down on her toes as if I was sucking a rock-hard cock. I licked the soles of her feet, my tongue tracing trails of fire on the bottom of her delicately arched feet.
“Yes,” she moaned
, like I knew she’d moan, her body jumping each and every time that I licked her feet – and I licked hard and often.
I bathed her beautiful, bronze feet with my tongue, sucked on her toes again, kissed and nipped at her ankles, and squeezed her fleshy calves in my hands. Then I placed her sparkling feet between my legs, squeezing them with my knees, and quickly pulled off my stylish cashmere sweater and lacy, black bra. I lifted her legs back up and pressed her naked feet against my full, dewy, bare breasts. “That feels good,” I murmured, rubbing her feet against my tits and chest.
“Let me do it,” she said.
I let go of her and watched and felt her use her feet to massage my breasts. The sensual delight of her saliva-slick feet on my big, white tits and pink, engorged nipples made me weak in the knees, and the head. She rubbed my juicy globes with her feet, played with my rigid nipples with her toes, then took one oversized tit between her feet and squeezed and fondled and caressed it.
I closed my eyes, tossed back my head, and groaned, my long, blonde hair cascading down my naked back. The air in the office turned hot, my voluptuous body hotter. I felt loose and limp, and my head spun dizzily as my senses were rocketed unchecked along an erotic rollercoaster by that Latina vixen massaging my tits with her talented feet. I quickly found myself teetering on the brink of a catastrophic orgasm.
I grabbed onto her loving feet before I exploded in premature ecstasy, opened my eyes, and said, “I want your toes in my cunt.”
She smiled up at me, then pulled her tit-buffers out of my hands, stood up, and brushed the unimportant business paraphernalia off of her desk. Her butt cheeks quivered with the effort, and I reached out and grabbed her big behind. She straightened up with a sigh, leaned back into me, and I wrapped my arms around her massive chest and held her close. She turned her head, parted her lips, and I pressed my wet mouth against hers. We kissed ferociously, longingly, our tongues fighting a frenzied battle in which there were no losers, only winners. I gripped her huge, tan tits and squeezed them, felt the incredible heated heaviness of them, pulled and primped her nipples, all the while mashing my mouth against hers – tasting deeply of her.
Finally, we broke apart. She pulled down her panties and stepped out of them, and I clawed off my skirt and my panties and joined her on top of the desk. Her pussy was slick with dampness, gloriously naked except for an inverted triangle of soft, brown fur at the very top of it.
“I want you to toe-fuck me,” I hissed, as I sat back on the gleaming surface of the oak desk, facing her. I stuck out my left leg until my foot was only inches away from her beautiful face. She let me dangle there for awhile, like the toe-teasing scamp that she was, staring hungrily at my foot, her thick, pink tongue flicking out and brushing lightly against my toes. My leg began to quiver with the effort of holding it up and out, and the raw sexual anticipation of what her mouth would do to me, until, finally, she gently took hold of my foot and steered the outstretched toes into her mouth.
“Yes!” I cried out, oblivious to the strictly business setting in which we were pleasuring each other, and the staff working just outside the thin confines of her office-playground.
She fed on my toes. She sucked them, licked them, bit them. I closed my eyes and let the scalding waves of sensuality wash up from my leg and engulf my pussy. I shuddered as her mouth attacked my foot and her tongue slapped against my toes. She licked and kissed the bottom of my ivory foot, the top, my ankle, my calf. She was obviously an experienced foot-worshipper herself, as evidenced by her practiced, patient technique. I stroked my pussy, rubbed my swollen clit, shoved a couple of fingers inside my sopping wetness.
“No!” she exclaimed. “Not like that!” Her green eyes were blazing with lust.
I took my fingers out of my red-hot pussy, let her watch me lick the juices off. Then I pulled my foot away from her and spread my legs, extending her an open invitation to foot-fuck me.
“That’s more like it,” she said, smiling wickedly.
She held out her right leg and I caught it and sucked on her toes until they were good and wet. Then I steered her delicate foot down to my burning, blonde pussy and brushed it against my glistening lips. I was jolted with pleasure. She pushed her foot forward and her big toe pressed against my aching clit, and I screamed with unbridled joy. My body rippled as if with electric shock, and I knew that I would not last long with her toes in my pussy.
“I’m going to fuck you,” she said, and thrust her big toe inside my pussy. She pushed farther inside of me, and I grabbed onto her tapered ankle and helped her plunge in and out of my volcanic pussy with her toe.
As she and I toe-fucked my cunny, she began rubbing her own steaming pussy with her hand. She shoved two fingers inside and frigged herself fiercely, all the time foot-fucking me with abandon. We stared fiercely at each other, at our sweat-dappled, heaving bodies, our eyes glazed over with suffocating passion and towering desire. The sight and smell and feel of that sun-kissed Latina goddess was rapidly becoming too much for my pussy to bear. I desperately hammered her foot into my flaming lovebox, her toes penetrating deeper and deeper and deeper – to my very sexual core, where lay mind-shattering ecstasy.
“I’m going to come!” I screamed at her.
Her lips were set in a grim, red line, her teeth clenched, her face contorted with the effort of staving off her own explosive climax until the very last possible moment, as she finger-fucked herself to the searing edge of all-out orgasm. She screamed, “I’m coming!” and her body shook, and her magnificent brown melons were jolted over and over again as powerful orgasms detonated inside of her and thundered through her writhing body.
My mind and sight went fuzzy, and my whole world disintegrated down to her foot and my pussy, my pussy and her foot. My cunt erupted, and scalding waves of supererotic bliss crashed down upon me and my body convulsed with the most intense orgasm I had ever experienced; once, then twice, then a devastating third time. I felt like I was going to pass out as I was rocked again and again and again by earthquake orgasms that had as their epicentre Vanessa’s toes in my pussy.
Aftershocks of ecstasy tore our bodies apart as we desperately held onto each other – my hands clenching her foot, her hand squeezing my leg – until the last of the white-hot orgasms had coursed through us and dissipated. I raised her foot up out of my smouldering pussy, to my mouth, and licked my come off of her wiggling toes.
“I want a taste, too,” she whispered exhaustedly, and I let her pull her limp leg away so that she could twist her foot into her mouth. She licked what I had licked and smiled a satiated smile.
My left foot reached out and began to fondle her soaking wet pussy, getting to know it a little –
“Karen! You’re doing it right now, aren’t you?” Ms Sanchez demanded to know, slamming the phone down angrily.
I grinned sheepishly. “Doing what?” I asked innocently.
Fortunately, I didn’t get fired that day, just incredibly fired-up. It’s my work-related fantasies, after all, that help pump up my morale, turn my ultra-boring joe-job into a so wicked toe-job.
The Gift
Dahlia (Berlin, Germany)
The martinis were stronger than they should be before 4 p.m., and lunch took twice as long, but it was my birthday, so I didn’t really care. I’ve always been pretty good at not letting on how drunk I felt, and today was no different. Making my way back to my desk, a neat grin on my face, my feet methodically moving left, right, left, right in my pointy black patent leather heels, I slid gratefully into my seat and exhaled slowly.
All I had to do was keep staring at my monitor for a couple more hours and then I could leave early. All I had to do was stare and type a few words and no one would know that I was wasted off my arse. I just had to keep my mouth shut, my face focused, and no one would know the difference.
“Dahlia?”
I turned around.
“Urn, someone left this at the front desk for you.”
Michael reached forward and gent
ly placed an artfully wrapped package on top of “To be Filed”. I stared. I knew this package would impress me even if I wasn’t seeing double – the bow was red luscious silk, the paper was as smooth as satin and as brilliantly red as my fingernails, and the box was big enough to cover my entire desk.
“Do you know who dropped this off?” I asked, turning around, but Michael had already gone back to the mailing room, leaving me alone with my oversized gift.
I glanced around the room but no one seemed to have any interest in me or my enormous red box. I debated for a second whether to open it now or save it for later, but knew that I couldn’t resist, and so, with a sigh and a tingle of anticipation, I delicately slipped the bow off and ran my nails under the tape keeping the paper shut. With a satisfying hiss, the wrapping fell to the sides, and I stared at the white cardboard box.
I looked once more at the wrapping paper – no note, no explanation. Having no idea who would give me such a large present, much less deliver it to my desk, I opened up the box and peered inside, hoping the contents would provide some answers.
At first, all I saw was a neatly folded stack of black lace, underwire, and red ribbon. I looked around the room – no one was watching. Was this some kind of joke? Without taking the fabric out of the box, I reached in and lifted up the material. I groped with my left hand to see if there was anything underneath. My fingers found a slim metal chain – and nothing else.
What the fuck? I looked around the room again, but no one was watching, no one was snickering, no one was paying me any attention. Time to figure this one out, I thought.
The Mammoth Book of Women's Erotic Fantasies Page 52