by Ella Ford
I found myself checking my cell phone every thirty seconds, hoping that she would text, fearing she wouldn’t. I’d tried to play it cool when I left the hotel room. No big deal, just one of those things. I tried to convince myself that I didn’t really care if she called or not. But my insistence was half hearted and dishonest. In truth, I longed to see her again, to continue this strange exploration.
My cell phone remained quiet.
I reached my stop and left the train, hurrying down the street to my block. I entered my apartment and took a quick shower, then changed into my work clothes. I was running late, so would need to take a cab back downtown. I called for a taxi and sighed as I noticed that I still had no text.
I scolded myself for my impatience, it had only been ninety minutes since I left the hotel room! Samantha probably wasn’t awake. I tried to take my mind off it by preparing for work.
Forty minutes later, I reached the office and relaxed into my tasks. I had a packed calendar that day, with back to back appointments and calls. I became lost in the normality of my job, the feelings from the night before sinking to the back of my mind as I went about my business. I thought nothing more of Samantha and the hotel encounter for the rest of the day. Then at four in the afternoon, my cell phone chirped and the screen flashed. A text!
The feelings that I’d held at bay came flooding back to the front of my mind and I fumbled to unlock my phone with trembling fingers. I found the message and blinked to focus on the words.
Free for dinner tonite? I was thinking Luigi’s at 9. S x
My heart pounded in my chest as I struggled to absorb the brief message. As I was reading it for about the twentieth time, my phone buzzed again and a new message arrived. This one simply said:
No panties x
Oh. Shit. I forced my hands to remain still enough to tap out a brief reply:
Deal x
I collapsed back into my chair, mind racing at the terse exchange. What did Samantha have in mind for me now? I longed to find out, not a single note of apprehension in my thoughts now. The day could not end quick enough.
---
Once again, I stepped out of a taxi onto the pavement. This time I had the presence of mind to pay the driver what I owed him and even managed to tip appropriately. I thanked the man and turned to inspect my destination.
Luigi’s was a popular Italian several blocks from Samantha’s hotel. I knew it well, and enjoyed the cozy intimacy of the decor and the warm welcome of the family that ran it. I felt a nervous rush of excitement as I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the windows as I approached the door.
It was a pleasant summer night, so I’d gone for a loose knee length dress with a colorful floral print. It was quite thin and cut low around my breasts, exposing an indecent amount of cleavage. I’d settled on wearing my hair down, pulling it to one side and letting it fall over my shoulder and chest.
I had considered keeping my legs bare, but decided on light stockings with nude heels. I’d seen the effect that my hosiery had on Samantha last night and didn’t want to risk losing that intoxicating magic.
As instructed, I was also wearing no panties. It felt strange to be so exposed around there, the light breeze of the summer night blew across my naked lips and chilled me pleasantly. I shuddered at the erotic thrill of complying with Samantha’s requests. It felt good to be led by her, to allow her to direct me for our mutual pleasure.
As I stepped into Luigi’s I immediately saw Samantha. She was seated alone at a table in the far corner. She hadn’t seen me yet, so I took an opportunity to gaze at her, to drink in her beauty and presence. It was her turn to wear a little black dress tonight. I admired the way that the tight material hugged her body and emphasised her chest. Her hair was braided in a tight ponytail that snaked across her shoulder. Her bare arms were folded in front of her as she studied the menu with an intense concentration. I wondered if she was nervous, if she feared that I might not turn up? She appeared superficially confident, sexually aggressive and used to getting her own way. Yet there was a vulnerability to her, a need for attention and approval. The two sides of her seemed at odds, yet their combination was mesmerising to me.
I was suddenly startled by a quiet cough to my side, “May I help you ma’am?” spoke the Maitre d’.
“Thank you, I’m meeting my, um, friend,” I stammered, pointing across the room to where Samantha sat. The man nodded politely and went back to his work. I walked across the restaurant and stopped in front of Samantha.
She looked up, momentarily startled and stood to greet me. We embraced stiffly, whispering brief hellos. I wasn’t really sure what to say, so quickly sat down. As Samantha also sat down, I caught a glimpse of her body. Her dress was very short, barely covering the tops of her black stockings. She tugged at it as she sat, wriggling it down her body and smiled at me. She was wearing open sandals, strappy with a high heel. She seemed unconcerned about wearing stockings with open toes. I didn’t disapprove, enjoying the sight of her painted toes through the thin material.
“You look lovely tonight,” she drawled in her thick southern accent, “I could eat you up.”
“Later,” I quipped, insanely proud of my confident grasp of lesbian banter.
She smiled warmly at me and glanced around the room. She lowered her voice and leaned forwards, “Did you follow my instructions?” Her eyes flicked downwards, her meaning obvious.
My heart was pounding at the thrill of her forthrightness, “Yes,” I breathed, “no panties.”
She smiled and sat back, studying the menu. “Should we order wine?” she asked, dragging my thoughts back to the small matter of actually being in a restaurant.
We ordered a bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon, which the waiter poured and Samantha tasted. She smiled her approval and he filled our glasses until they were half full. We each raised our glass and Samantha paused for a moment, thinking of the correct sentiment. “To exploration,” she finally said, satisfied that her toast fitted the mood. We touched glasses and I took a long sip of the rich wine.
As we drank, we fell into a comfortable conversation. Each of us eager to find out more about the other. Samantha told me that she was from Atlanta, visiting New York on business. She was a PR executive and lived alone with her two dogs. My heart sank a little as she told me that she would be in town for just a few more days, but my spirits rose again when she said she came to New York often.
The waiter returned and we ordered our meals. I marvelled at the intricate instructions that Samantha gave for every aspect of her order. She wanted the soup warm but not hot, the bread should be fresh and soft, not hard and old. She wanted her pasta overcooked rather than undercooked, with not too much sauce and no pepper. The waiter struggled to keep up with her endless requirements and appeared relieved when I reeled off my order in five seconds flat. Samantha and I laughed as he walked away, then fell into a comfortable silence.
I finally dared to speak, “Y-you’re my first… woman I mean,” I blushed and stared at the table before me.
Samantha took my hand and squeezed it gently. “I hope you enjoyed it honey, I know I did.”
I nodded, “You have no idea.”
She smiled warmly, then let go of my hand. Her arms went below the table and she leaned forwards slightly. “I’m taking my shoe off,” she said matter of factly.
I considered this, nodding as she worked. My mind raced as I wondered what was going to happen. What was she going to do in this busy restaurant? She sat back in her chair and folded her hands in front of her. She smiled at me again and winked. I felt a soft touch on my leg, the briefest brush against my stockings. I shuddered.
Once again, I felt her foot slide up and down my calf, lightly caressing my leg. Samantha never took her eyes off me, never once betrayed her actions. I sighed at the pleasant feeling of our legs rubbing together, felt myself becoming aroused in yet another new way. There was a thrill to this that I had never encountered before. A secret thrill between the two of
us, one that people mere feet away from us had no idea of. I struggled to remain calm as my body tingled with every touch. I forced a smile back at Samantha.
Suddenly, her foot passed my knee and pushed between my legs to caress my inner thigh. She eased it forward inside my dress and onwards to my pussy. She sunk into the chair slightly, nibbling on her index finger with an air of total innocence. I pushed forward in my own seat to reach her, keen to feel her touch on me.
I gasped as her pointed toes pressed against my pussy. A pulse of pleasure ricocheted around my body as the warmth settled there. I fought to remain quiet and calm, fearing that our secret interaction would remain secret no longer. I inhaled and took a sip of my drink. As the glass reached my lips, Samantha clenched her toes and pressed on my clit. I gasped and nearly spilled the wine. She grinned at me with obvious amusement. “Sorry,” she smiled, clearly not sorry at all.
I set my glass down and focused on her face. Her toes continued to knead between my legs, flexing as she probed me. I squeezed my thighs together around her foot as she worked, eager to slow her down and end this torture. It had little effect.
As her slow manipulation continued, I felt the room fading into irrelevance. The light buzz of conversation and the gentle jazz music playing in the background became distant and faint. My focus narrowed to the woman before me, fixating on her golden radiance. She stared back at me, studying my face for reactions as her skillful toes applied their rhythmic pressure. I found myself breathing heavily, each exhale and inhale accompanied by a jolt of pleasure from my pussy. The feeling built inside me, unstoppable and expansive, it filled my limbs and body with a numbing warmth. I longed for release yet knew that it was impossible here. I longed to drop my hands to my pussy and take her foot in my hand, grinding it into me to reach fulfillment. It was overwhelming, intense and unrelenting. I felt myself slipping, slipping away. I prepared to release myself into it…
The waiter returned and placed a plate of food in front of me. Samantha withdrew her foot, slipping it out of my dress and leaving me empty and bereft. I gasped, blinking at the sudden absence. The waiter looked at me, concern washing over his face, “Is everything okay ma’am? Are you unwell?”
I struggled to regain my wits. Samantha answered for me, her drawling voice laced with amusement, “My friend is fine, she just gets a little excited when she eats out is all. Isn’t that right honey?”
I nodded mutely, wishing the waiter would just go away and we could get back to having Samantha’s foot fuck me again.
He looked skeptical, but continued placing food on the table. Eventually, he gave a snooty harrumph, muttered “bon appetit” and left us alone.
I looked at Samantha, brimming with lust and hunger. It suddenly became imperative that I had her and it would not wait. She sensed my longing and nodded her assent. I looked around the room, eyes settling on a door in the far wall.
“Let’s go to the bathroom,” I gasped hurriedly. She nodded again and moved to stand. I gathered my wits, steadied myself and stood with her. We dashed across the restaurant, her hand in mine, ignoring the looks that the other patrons gave us.
---
As we reached the bathroom, we pushed our way in to the small room. It was clean and light, a single stall and a porcelain sink. Samantha pushed the door shut and flicked the lock closed, ensuring we wouldn’t be disturbed. She turned to face me, a look of hungry desire in her eyes. I leaned back against the sink, urging her forwards.
She paused, then pounced at me, grabbing my waist with her frantic hands and pulling our bodies together. Our mouths met, no longer soft and tender, this time we kissed with feverish intent, our tongues warring together in our mouths. A constant struggle to gain ground and taste the other. My hands roamed over her body, over the heaving bulge of her breasts, down her waist and round to grab her ass and pull her towards me. I was insatiable, I wanted us as close as possible, for our bodies to touch in every way imaginable. I wanted us to merge into one, a single entity of pure lust. Samantha was clearly driven by the same compulsion, she clawed and tore at my dress, pulling it up and pawing my exposed thighs.
I pushed her back and leaned onto the sink. With my right hand, I pulled my loose dress up around my waist, with my left hand I plunged my fingers into my pussy. She watched me touch myself, fascinated by the playful dance before her. Then without warning, she fell to her knees on the hard floor of the bathroom and plunged her head between my legs. Her tongue fell on me without warning or preamble. She eagerly lapped at my labia, teasing those loose folds between her lips and sucking them into her mouth. She probed around my clitoris, brushing across it lightly at first but quickly gathering pace. This was no time for shy seduction, our actions were driven by pure need now. All rational thought had fled, replaced by sheer animal desire.
I moaned at her assault, dropping a hand to her head as she buried herself deeper into me. I applied a light pressure to her, not allowing her any avenue of escape. The only thing that mattered to me now was the feeling of her tongue on me and in me. My body shuddered as I felt the first onset of climax. She felt it too and redoubled her efforts, plunging her tongue into my tight hole and then returning to circle around my clit with renewed intensity.
I pulled my hands back and gripped the sides of the basin on which I leaned. I squeezed my tired thighs around Samantha’s head. I glanced down to look at her in the final moment of calm before I was swept away. She looked up at me from between my legs, her eyes burning with desire and a need to give pleasure. It was intoxicating, to have this angelic thing between my legs, focusing only on my fulfillment. It became too much, I felt something give within me, a point of no return as I crested the wave of my pleasure. The orgasm exploded in my body, spilling out into my furthest reaches. I tensed and shook, panting with each pulse of the orgasm’s power. I held Samantha’s mouth on me, not willing to lose that warm touch just yet. She capitulated, surrendering herself to my grip and allowing herself to become lost in my pussy. I held on for dear life as the climax coursed through me, then finally relaxed as it withdrew.
Samantha fell back onto the cold floor, panting, her face drenched in my juices. I fell down beside her, gripping her head in my hands and pressing my mouth against hers, drinking in every taste of our shared passion.
Suddenly, there was a sharp knock on the door. “Is everything alright in there?” came a voice from the other side.
We hurried to our feet and I shouted a trembling, “Yes, everything’s fine, will be out in a second.”
I looked at Samantha and grinned, “I don’t know about you, but I’m really hungry. Shall we eat?”
She looked back at me, a mischievous smirk filling her face, “Again?” and we laughed together.
Epilogue
We spent most of Samantha’s visit to New York in her hotel room, exploring each other’s bodies and thrilling at the intensity of our mutual attraction. I became insatiable, wanting to taste her in every way and use her stunning body for things that I had never even dreamed of a few days before.
I found myself fixated on her feet, exploring this new desire that she had awakened. She revealed that she shared my peculiar fetish, that my hopeless gawping in the coffee shop that day had drawn her to me, convinced her to invite me back to her room. I was surprised to find that she had never explored this particular thrill before. It delighted me that I was her first.
When it came time for her to leave New York, we bid each other a fond farewell, promising to meet whenever she was in town again. She invited me down to Atlanta to stay with her, I agreed instantly like a teenage girl with a childish crush.
---
So that’s my story. The sordid tale of my first lesbian encounter and the genesis of my strange fetish. I can’t begin to describe where it came from, what triggered my lustful desires. Perhaps it was just fate, the unavoidable attraction of two people whose destinies were intertwined.
I draw my attention back to the Sex and the City DVD that has Samant
ha so enthralled. The rising warmth in my belly suggests that it’s probably time to drag her away from the TV and take her into my bedroom.
I lift her foot to my mouth and lightly nibble the soft curve of her arch, relishing the feel of the soft material of her pantyhose on my mouth. She gasps, and I fix her with a hungry stare that clearly signals my intent. She looks back at me, reflecting my desires with her own.
She raises a finger to her red lips and purrs demurely, “Bedtime?”
THE END
Dominating Summer
by Ella Ford
Prologue
I sometimes think back to that night in Vegas. I think about how I was before, and how I am now. I marvel at the change in myself, the fundamental disconnect between the two people. What was it, exactly, that caused such a drastic shift in everything that defined me as a person? Was I simply acting on deep seated needs and desires that I had yet to confront but which were always present? Or was this sudden departure new and novel, the natural consequence of circumstances and opportunity?
I wonder if I should have done things differently, should have behaved in a manner more appropriate to my temperament. What would you have done in my position? How would you have reacted if offered such a unique and compelling opportunity? An opportunity that had no consequences, no repercussions, no responsibilities. An opportunity to have complete control over another person, to indulge your deepest fantasies and explore desires that you had never even considered before. What if that person was another woman? Would that alter things? Would you be more tempted?