Foot Fetish Books Novels & Stories

Curiosity was eating at her. With an effort, she made herself focus on the other titles. He had books on negotiating, battle tactics, history, agriculture…boring. Didn’t the man read any fiction? There was a book on stained glass that looked mildly interesting, but she kept scanning the shelves, hoping for something more enticing. Her search was rewarded. There, right in the middle of his shelves at eye level, was an entire shelf of books devoted to lovemaking. Wiley’s eyes boggled as she read the titles: An Illustrated Guide to the Sensual Arts. A Woman’s Climax. Emotional Need and the Sensual Virgin. There were dozens of titles.

"I wanted to ask—." As she talks, a part of me zones off. Imagining something else. Cream's skin. Ber's cock… And the newest addition, Vanilla's feet. I'd always had a strange foot fetish, but I never knew I'd be into baby feet. Cause that's exactly how hers is. White and all pink, while soft and so small… "Channing?" I blink. Right. This pigeon is still here. "Hmm?" "Would you?" She asks. "Ah, I—" Can't stand you. Staring at you makes me wish I was anywhere, probably being fucked with my head while my head's bashed into the wall, restricting my oxygen while I cum.

Livvy moaned and when I looked at her, she had her eyes closed. Fucking hell this was way too sexy to be doing with my daughter. I had never really had a thing for feet before, but suddenly I felt like I might just have a new fetish. Trying to control my rapid breathing, I continued massaging her. For the better part of fifteen minutes, I rubbed her foot. And then something happened that made me tense every muscle in my body.

I know him, but not like this. He grabs my hand and sits me on the bed, he reaches up my legs slowly touching them as he grabs the garters and undoes the hooks. I feel the instant release of my tights and he glides his hand on my thigh. I stifle a moan as I look down at him. I am supposed to be in control, but damn, I am putty in his hands. His hands grab the ends of my right stocking and begin to pull it down slowly. When he gets to my ankle, he kisses it gently and then unhooks my stiletto. He takes my shoe off and then pulls the stocking all the way off. He gently plants kisses down my ankle to my toes and I want to shudder. Feet fetishes usually don’t turn me on, but this is Mr. Landa!

Alesya innocently showed the book she had just finished reading. Nicholas took over the book that was in Alesya's hands. Without realizing it, her hand which was still cupping Alesya's moci was still there. Not letting go, not squeezing. “Where did you get this book?” Nicholas insisted. Her face turned red when she saw the contents and title of the book. “Tips to satisfy your partner in bed.” So many pictures, complete with first night tutorial.

The adoration that lights up his eyes when he gazes at my bare feet stokes my lust like nothing else. You see, feet are Jesse’s fetish, but mine is being in control of Jesse. These two desires complement each other perfectly. I choose when and where he’s allowed the honor of worshipping my feet, and in the end we both wind up satisfied. Jesse had been such a good boy all week—taking

I grabbed a container of body wash and a scrunchy, got it good and soapy, then began washing her, working down her back, being careful to gently but firmly rub and massage her body. Soon I worked my way down to her feet. She turned, placing a hand upon my head and lifted her foot as I washed and massaged. The soft moans she made encouraged me. Despite my own desire, I didn't spend long on her feet. I'd lost my last girlfriend when I was open about my foot fetish. She was happy when I would surprise her with heels or clothing that emphasized her legs, but the moment I came clean, it was "I can't be with a guy who wants to lick my feet."

But my wear suddenly felt too tight across the shoulder, way too warm. My fingers fidgeting, I opened the Rite book. “I exorcise thee, unclean spirit–” She arched, deliberately. The torn dress slid higher, exposing the smooth skin of her stomach, the shadow forming between her thighs revealing no undergarments. Just slick, swollen flesh catching the candle light. She was already wet and dripping, her scent filling the space which hit me. My mouth went dry. “Keep reading,” she purred. “The words make me throb. Makes me want to clench around something thick and holy.”

Oblivious to my surroundings, I let my pajama bottoms fall to the floor, clasped my hand onto my labia and fondled the swollen tip of my engorged clit. My mind wandered and I tried to imagine what the woman’s body felt. I watched her fall atop the stranger and ravage his cock with kisses and almost swallow the entire thick shaft. The extreme eroticism of my voyeuristic encounter made it feel less invasive because they couldn’t see me and more sexual because it made me free to explore this fetish I discovered.

Axel walks to the box and hands it to the man. “Foot fetish,” the man reads. “I did not expect that at all,” he says, chuckling. “Alright, are you up next, miss?” Foot fetish? I’m surprised, too. Not that I hate feet or anything, but Axel’s just never said anything about it. I walk up to the board and have a look at the options. There’s about 20. I run through the list, immediately dismissing at least 80% of the options. Domination … nope.