Crazy For Feet Forum

You guys suck. I live so far out in the country (217 people in my town) that I never see girls, much less dressed in heels. Thanks for all the pictures!!

Interesting...ankle bracelet, well done toenail polish, bare feet in clogs...I would say this lady either has a foot fetish, or has a husband that does. (wedding band on left ring finger) Either way, she does not mind calling attention to her feet while in public.

The Miracle Fashion By Seasick As we are escorted to our seats by the hostess, I can see the men and woman look in turn; the men looking at my wife as we pass, and their wives looking in consternation at their husband’s simply for looking. It is not the sound of her heels crushing the peanut shell...

Personally, I think its hard wired in just about every person. I have a little girl and she cannot keep her shoes on, as her shoes and socks come off all the time no matter the time or the place and I know this is true of most children. I think on some primary level we want to be barefoot, but as we...

I am late in getting onto this post, but anyway for me it started in church. I was forced to go by my parents, but I got this cool job. I sat in a small room in the back and recorded the sermons for the shut-in elderly people. It was not a very elaborate set up so a person physically had to hit the ...

Setting Sail

From the distance, Amy Lynn Steele’s smile looked genuine as she stood on the dock in front of the chartered yacht, the Magpie, and greeted the new guests in turn. Beside her stood the rest of her crew, smiling brightly as well, and shaking hands with the people that would be their shipmates for the next few weeks.

Fortunately the guests spent the majority of their time questioning the Captain, whose role was certainly more noble than that of the ships Engineer. Amy was thankful for that, and let her stare turn from the guests to a piece of paper stapled to one of the many pilings that held up the lavish dock. As its upper right corner flapped in the stiff off-shore breeze, she marveled at how it managed to keep from blowing away altogether. Even as its edge flip-flopped back and forth, she was still able to read the advertisement with its bold red print.

Wanted: Harbormaster it said in big bold print. There were other words printed in black ink across the page, no doubt describing the details of the job and what they were looking for in the way of ideal candidates, but these words were far too small for Amy to read at this distance.

For Amy, what she could read, was really all she needed to read. While many regarded her presence aboard a ten million dollar yacht as priceless, inwardly Amy was becoming more and more disenchanted with it with each voyage that she embarked upon. The owners demanded professionalism from the crew, and even now that image was manifested as each one stood at attention, their uniforms matching in both color and style.

As the Captain watched the last passenger crest the gunwale, Amy looked at him with jealousy. Of the twelve member crew, ten were men and had the luxury of wearing light blue double breasted shirts, matching trousers and shoes polished up to a gleaming shine. Amy and the Stewardess Alicia, both got to wear the same light blue cotton shirts as the men, but below that knee length skirts had to be worn, with beige nylons and a pair of black heels. It was the latter that completely repulsed Amy. Granted the shoes had a rather chunky heel that made them semi-wearable upon the heaving ship, but they were still difficult to wear at times, and completely unneeded in the din of the engine room.

Once down inside the bowels of the ship, Amy seldom wore them, preferring instead to go barefoot. In reality she would have kicked them off now if she could have. The ones she now wore were a bit too tight around her toes and pressed unmercifully into the ball of her feet. She cringed at the pain, hoping the guests would soon disperse and the ship would set sail, leaving her to roam the engine room devoid of her painful shoes.

“Ms. Steele, you are needed at once in the Engineer room,â€￾ suddenly came a cry from Cynthia, the yacht’s owner as she thrust her head over the gunwale of the boat and looked down at her entrusted crew. “I was showing Anthony the engine room and there is a big puddle of oil coming from the front of the starboard engine.â€￾
Amy immediately jumped into action. Oil was the lifeblood of the powerful diesel engines and any leak could lead to catastrophe. Still, as fast as she was now running, she did not forget the paper stapled to the dock’s piling. Grasping the ear still flapping in the breeze, she made quick work of pulling it free of its remaining three staples and shoved the piece of paper into her pocket. She did it so fast, so quick, that her fellow crewmembers did not even see her grab it.

Even in her heels, Amy slipped quickly towards the stern of the yacht, ducking in the passageways and sliding down the shiny stainless steel rails that lined the ladder that lead into the engine room. Swooping down in one deft movement, Amy’s attention immediately turned towards the starboard engine, and peered at the front of the engine. Just as she had been told, a small trickle of thick black oil oozed down the front of the stark white engine block.

For a moment, Amy surveyed the problem and came to a quick conclusion on what the culprit was. Reaching into her toolbox, she found the ratchet, socket and extension she needed, and began to climb up the giant engine to tighten the loose bolt that was making all the mess.

It was not an easy task. Marine engines have a slew of pipes to funnel water and oil in and out of the block, and Amy found herself squeezing her way up and around these labyrinths of pipes to gain access to the bolt. Some were hot, while other had bolts and protrusions that Amy had to wiggle her legs around to avoid. It was this act that irritated Amy to no end.

As she wiggled her way up to the top of the engine, she thought about her previous schooling. Breaking the gender barrier at the Maritime Academy was not an easy task, and she took pride in the fact that she had graduated with top honors. Fixing this oil leak hardly taxed her knowledge of marine diesel systems, but doing so without catching her nylons on anything was another matter altogether. Amy was equally sure that it was a problem that her other classmates did not have worry about, and she resented her uniform more and more with each passing day.

Finally reaching an area of the engine where she could reach the bolt, Amy could easily see the problem. Grasping her tools, she placed them on the head of the bolt, spun the bolt deeper into the block with ease, the ratchet singing out its familiar clicking as the bolt easily seated itself back into place. The repair was going well until she went to give the bolt a final twist to snug it up. Placing her foot on a incoming coolant line, Amy went to give the ratchet a final tug when her foot slipped off the round pipe. She caught herself before she feel against the hot engine, but it did not stop her temper from flaring. Grabbing a hold of her high heels, she flung them across the engine room.

“Fucking high heels,â€￾ she yelled and began to squirm her way out from the front of the engine.

“Amy,â€￾ rang out Cynthia’s voice, as one of the shoes sailed just in front of her face and bounced off an electrical panel. “Whatever on earth has come over you?â€￾

“It’s these bolts. They are made of Stainless Steel. Whoever built this yacht did not know anything about engines. Stainless steel is pretty all polished up, but the threads don’t stretch. All these Stainless Steel bolts have to be replaced or they will just keep vibrating loose.â€￾

“Oh my, this is serious.â€￾

“Well I can keep tightening them up, so its nothing we have to fix before leaving port, but when we get back to Maine, you should have the builder replace all these bolts with mild steel ones. They should have known that.â€￾

“Well I know you are doing the best you can Amy. If the engines fixed, then why don’t we go topside and fix us a drink. I think you need a little break.â€￾

“I’m okay. I just got a little upset that’s all.â€￾

“A little upset? Amy I watched you take that poster off the piling,â€￾ she said and reached into Amy’s skirt pocket to pull out the crumpled and dog eared piece of paper. “You’re thinking about getting another job huh?â€￾ Amy looked sheepish as she turned to gather up the high heels she had thrown, and slipped them on her feet, more of an excuse to avoid looking at her employer than to actually put the shoes on. “Come on, I want to talk to you about this.â€￾

Amy reluctantly followed her employer up the ladder and out of the engine room. It was only a short walk to the master bedroom, a location chosen away from the other guests and where Amy and Cynthia could talk in private.

“What would you like for a drink,â€￾ she asked of her Engineer acting as the perfect host as she did so?

“I’m fine,â€￾ Amy said nervously; a reaction she often displayed when she was topside and out of her mechanical element in the lavish confines of the ships interior.

“Rubbish Amy. Then Gin and Tonic is shall be,â€￾ the woman said as she splashed in a heavy amount of Gin, then a lesser so amount of tonic and handed the tumbler to Amy. As Amy took it with trembling hands, she tried to cross her legs and look nonchalant as the woman poured her own drink and sat in the settee across from the bed. As her right leg crossed over the left however, Cynthia noticed a small blotch of oil that had stained her nylons. “Oh Amy, you got oil on your stockings, here change out of them before that oil irritates your skin.â€￾

Amy had to push the hemline of her uniform up a bit to see the stain Cynthia was speaking about, but knew Cynthia was more concerned about the oil staining the linens on her bed than she was having the oil irritate her skin. Still Amy reached up under her skirt to pull the offending piece of clothing from off her hips and then quickly kicked off her shoes. Tugging the semi-opaque fabric down her long legs, Amy noticed Cynthia’s gaze never wavered from her legs even as she walked across the room to a small trash can located next to the nightstand.

“Now tell me Amy, why would someone even consider giving up a job such as this? We only sail in good seas; we have only the best food, not to mention the very best yacht in the marina?â€￾

“I know,â€￾ she said looking down. “You have been wonderful to work for, but I am just getting tired of itâ€￾

“Tired of what Amy? If it’s the pay, we can change that. This is our third yacht Amy, and you are the best Engineer we have ever had. Do you know how long it would have taken other engineers to figure out why the bolts are loosening up on that engine? You figured it out in no time, and that is what we need when we are underway.â€￾

“Perhaps, but I am just not comfortable here. I did not go through four years of college at the Maine Maritime Academy to tighten bolts on a diesel engine wearing a skirt and stockings. It might be alright for some people, but it’s just not for me Ms. Myers.â€￾

Cynthia tipped her tumbler up and sent the remaining contents of the drink into her mouth, then stood up and began to laugh; a hearty deep laugh that lasted for a minute before she stood up only to sit next to Amy on the bed.

“Amy, Amy, Amy, my dear girl, you have so much to learn. You make it sound as if wearing a dress and heels is a punishment. Men are such blubbering fools for a woman in heels and a dress. Tomorrow you will put on my little black Marciano dress and a pair of my black stiletto heels, and we will go ashore and see how many men take notice.â€￾

“Ms. Myers, it’s not about whether men like me in a dress or not.â€￾

“Then what is it Amy? Shore time? Vacation? More chances to meet men,â€￾ she asked with a smile?

“No, but the latter would be nice,â€￾ she joked back, the alcohol now giving her stomach a warm glow to it that also relaxed her. “I hate to admit it, but it has been awhile.â€￾

“Amy, you don’t need a man,â€￾ Cynthia said with a smirk and reached out to pull at her chin and steer Amy’s lips tightly against hers.

This was her first kiss; at least her first passionate kiss with another woman. She watched in silence as the woman tilted her head towards her, but Amy was expecting her to whisper something to her, or at the most, give her an understanding peck upon her cheek. Instead her lips landed squarely upon hers, open and embracing. When her tongue probed, Amy parted her lips, and allowed the woman the pleasure of swirling her tongue about her mouth, lashing her teeth with it until Amy returned the passion with her own sweet tongue. The kiss had lasted for a full ten seconds, and now that the other woman had broken it, she was waiting for Amy’s reaction.

Amy’s mind reeled as the woman pulled her mouth away from hers, the woman now searching Amy for an expression… any expression, to prove whether the kiss they just shared had been consensual.

“Another woman is…is…is so very romantic,â€￾ she said softly and took her hands into hers.

“I’ve never…I never imagined I…â€￾

“I know, me either, but there is something special about another woman…a woman’s touch…a woman’s kiss..â€￾ the lady said, and gripping her hands in the manner that she did, Amy felt secure as the beige comforter seemed to melt around upon her bottom as the other woman moved beside her, then tilted her head and moved in for a second kiss.

Amy leaned towards the older woman, her hands going around Cynthia’s back, pulling her closer in an unmistakable display of consent. Cynthia’s lips did not waste precious time and quickly found the young woman’s, her probing tongue stealing all thoughts that homosexuality was somehow wrong. Amy’s lips parted in turn, quicker and more open than they had the first time, as she accepted the wave of passion that now overwhelmed her.

“Noâ€￾, Amy cried when Cynthia broke the ten second kiss, her lips trailing off hers to draw a path down her chin, over her neck where it paused to suck, to nibble, to tease…

“Yes,â€￾ Cynthia said in response, for she knew Amy was not referring to disgust over their steamy moment of passion, but from the retreat of her tongue from deep within her mouth. ‘Yes Amy, oh yesâ€￾ she repeated, and smiled a wantonness smile as she sunk to her knees on the floor of the boat that rocked on the bay’s gentle seas.

Cynthia never unlocked her gaze from Amy’s pleasure derived eyes as she swooned down into the most submissive of positions and covered her slightly hairy sex with her lips in one deft move. For an instant, Amy had the urge to run for the woman was so smooth, so gentle, and so seductive, that Amy knew she was in the presence of an experienced woman; a woman whose gentleness and reassurance radiated from her smile, her lips, and now her tongue. Amy could only coo as she flicked it expertly upon her sex. She even moaned aloud as the woman placed her hands on her inner thighs and pushed her legs further distant, gaining access to her most secluded of body parts.

She went limp at the ministrations she felt upon her neither region. All thoughts of fleeing escaped her as feelings of love, tenderness and lust began to well up after months of dormancy. “It’s been so long,â€￾ she thought. “So very, very long,â€￾ as a liquid fire began to eminent from her depths. She felt her lover dab at them with her tongue, then flick in time with the moisture that was increasing proportionally with her feelings, until Cynthia’s tongue had to lap continuously at the trickle of lust that was leaking from the young woman’s very core.

For minutes Amy fought the urge, but then gave in, reaching between her outstretched legs and lustfully grabbed Cynthia’s hair with her hands. Holding it in clumps, she guided her, first a bit higher, and then harder upon her mound so that it was pinned with pleasure and pressure like no man could ever do.

Then she felt it. Cynthia’s hand sliding under the foam of the mattress to settle between the crack of her bottom. As it toyed at her anus, Amy twitched and felt a single finger enter her anus. Amy squirmed, feeling her lover’s feminine mouth bounce over her sex as her finger settled deeply inside of her, feeling it fill a void she never knew she had.

Then no sooner had her finger probed the ribbed passage of her bottom when Amy’s orgasm exploded within her. It was an explosion without warning, an explosion without build-up, and an explosion without the crested wave that occurred with the men in her life. This time it was just the all-knowing knowledge of another female that gave her an orgasm she had never experienced before, and she heard herself screaming in ecstasy in the aft cabin. As tears streamed down her cheeks at the pleasure of it all, Amy looked at Cynthia, her faced speckled with her fluids.

“Amy you’re crying.â€￾

“I needed that. Oh how I needed that, but…â€￾

“But you’re confused. I know, I felt the same way once myself. But now…now I know what I need. I need you Amy, as an Engineer for our yacht, and as a companion. Please don’t leave this yacht Amy.â€￾

Looking down through blurry, tears filled eyes, Amy looked at her employer as she never had before. Without question, the woman had the means to acquire anything she wanted, from the finest linens, to the most lavish yachts, and yet now she looked at Amy with a need so profound, it almost scared her. As Cynthia shifted on the gently rocking floor of the moored yacht, Amy could not help but feel the power she held as Cynthia did not move from one of the most submissive positions of mankind. As a smile spread across Cynthia’s face, Amy realized it was a position she truly revered.

“I guess having to wear a skirt and heels on this yacht isn’t so bad after all,â€￾ Amy said with a big grin.

I'd just keep farming until the money ran out

My wife does this thing I call a Pattyjob. She will straddle me and rub her feet along my shaft to help 'get me going", but it is a hard pace and position to maintain. Over the years I have settled for that turning into a handjob, but with a twist. She will put her feet on my bare chest where s...

Yes I can. People are like "her foreign policy is terrible", but can you imagine what would happen if she went over to I ran wearing a short skirt, crossed her legs a few times, kicked off one of her shoes and said "Don't you guys think that enriched uranium isn't a good idea", a...

This may not be exactly what you are after, but it should be close. I kind of like her myself.

I kind of work in a place like that, only not in an office. I am a machinist by trade and thus build very high end yachts. (10-20 million dollar boats). Obviously with teak decking, gel coated fiberglass and mirror finish stainless steel bright work, you don't wear shoes on the boats, even when buil...

Futile Farming
By Seasick

“Son of a Bitch,â€￾ Scott Steele yelled out as the sound of a wrench first bouncing off of steel, and then clattering to the concrete floor, echoed throughout the farm shop. For a second there was silence, and then somewhere in a distant pasture a coyote howled, setting of a cascade of other coyote howls that resonated throughout the midnight silence of the Steele Farm. Scott took a deep breath, and then scooted his creeper underneath the silage chopper a bit more to retrieve the wrench. Upon grabbing it though, and pushing himself back, he was surprised to look up to see his wife looming above him.

Amy had dressed as a seductive farm wife, and as Scott pushed back from underneath the chopper, he was greeted by a pair of long legs encased in beige nylons and teetering in three inch black high heels. With his face only inches away, he slowly followed the legs upwards, past her knees and thighs, past her denim miniskirt, over her black halter top and stared at her big blue eyes looking down at him with a smile.

“You do know it’s past midnight don’t you,â€￾ she said holding a beer for him as she said it?

“Yes I am well aware of that, but tomorrow is supposed to be dry and I got forty acres of grass down in the Cates filed and I need to get this silage chopper up and running if I am going to get it done before the rain,â€￾ he said as he took the jack shaft that lead from the chopping head over to the gearbox and tossed it up on the work bench. “I think I can get this cross rebuilt if I can get it apart and do a bit of welding on it, but…â€￾

“But you are working yourself right to death,â€￾ Amy said as her husband sat down on the stool and began to remove the snap rings that held the cross in place.

“We both knew this was what it was going to take to make this farm viable Hon. I’ll have plenty of time to sleep when I’m dead.â€￾

Amy did not reply. The work bench sat between two bays used for working on equipment, and while Scott sat on one side, she sat on another. Unbeknownst to him however, she had reached down and slipped off her black high heel on her right foot by placing it heel to toe with her left, and then brought her foot between his legs and pressed it seductively into his crotch.

“You know that makes it kind of hard to keep the pliers on the snap ring when you do that?â€￾

“Then don’t be using the pliers, just enjoy what I am giving you.â€￾

Amy had been married to Scott for three years and knew just what he liked and she had dressed entirely for his liking. A farm was hardly a place for nylons, but tonight for her husband, she gladly wore them. Granted they were a lighter shade that gave her legs a softer look, but not so dark that he could not see the toe ring she had put on each middle toe, and of course a silver ankle bracelet that glinted off her right foot. Now as she lovingly shoved her left foot into his lap, she wiggled her toes and tried to find his manhood that was slowly beginning to get bigger.

“Amy,â€￾ was all he could say, though Amy had no idea whether it was a communication that was supposed to stop her, or spurn her on.

“Unbutton your pants.â€￾

“Right here?â€￾

“Who is going to see us, besides this is our place now. Our farm, if we want to play footsie out in the equipment shop, we will.â€￾

Scott was not about to argue with her. They had worked tirelessly to get the funding to afford the farm, and now they were working hard to make it profitable. Break downs had been worse then anticipated and it seemed they never spent much time together. Their bed was a place to merely collapse for awhile and not really a place to have any sort of meaningful marital relations. Now he unbuttoned his jeans for her and pulled them down to his knees letting her have full access to genitals. As he did so, he could not help but reach out and grab her beautiful feet as they began to slide over his hardened shaft.

“I know high heels don’t really belong on the farm, but I know you like me wearing them for you.â€￾

“That’s fine,â€￾ he said in a half-whisper as he peered down at his wife’s almost perfect feet. Only size six, they were petite and cute, with every toe nestled tightly against the other and with arches that were deep and perfectly situated for wearing high heels. Better still was her penchant for going barefoot a lot. It mattered little if it was in the house, in the car, or around the farm, her shoes were always off. Of course going barefoot was one thing, going shoeless while wearing nylons was another, and farm life never leant itself to wearing stockings. That is why this night meant a lot to Scott. Encased in beige stockings, Scott thrilled at the feeling of her scratchy stockings sliding along his hardened shaft, and kneading his hairy balls.

“Do you like that Hon,â€￾ she said as she let his big hands riddled with calluses and scars guide her soft feet towards his most erogenous of zones? When Scott only mumbled, Amy decided to up the thrill by a bit more. Gripping her black halter top, she pulled the garment over her head and let her husband’s gaze fall over her bare chest. If she could have done her own farmwife errands topless, the sun would have given her an all over tan that would have been more seductive then her rather pale chest. Still Scott was not disappointed. Amy did not have super huge breasts, but it mattered little to him, size C’s were big enough, and what she lacked for a chest, she made up for with perfect feet.

Now she built upon her perfect feet by using the perfect technique. Using the tip of her big toe, she touched the sweet spot between his legs in an exploratory way. At first, he seemed soft and resistant; no doubt his mind on the broken plight of the tractor and the oncoming rain, rather then on Amy’s seduction methods. But as Amy flexed her toes and ran her foot along the underside of his shaft, she felt her husband’s familiar member swell and rise with definition. The hardness grew beneath her red painted toes, as she lightly rubbed the hardening curve of his cock.

Increasing the pressure, Amy splayed her toes and pulled them back, letting them fan out and move in five directions as the feeling of the ball of her foot ran over his now pulsating shaft. Realizing quickly that his wife had more urgent needs than that of the broken down tractor, Scott released the tight grip around her ankle and began to run his hands over her nyloned feet. It was soft and enticing despite the unkempt, filthy and vile interior of the equipment shop in which they played.

Scott felt Amy’s desire and she could not help but thrill within her, her body riddled with goose bumps, as she shivered, but the result being from the soft touch of her husband and having little to do with the cool evening air of the very rural setting. She could only continue to lose herself as she felt his hardened shaft slide under the pressure of his foot, a drop of pre-come soaking into the material around the ball of her foot as she continued to rub and stroke him. The dexterity was amazing, her well toned leg muscles shifting and sliding, using her toes and arches to grip her husband with just as much skill as if it was her own hands.

Amy continued to lose herself in the moment, as she felt his cock swell and push against her nylon clad foot as she pushed back against it. Rolling the soft ball of her foot over the hardened, twitching shank, Amy slipped off her second shoe so that both feet could come into play. Alternating now between some toe nuzzling and gripping his cock between her arches, Amy slid her feet along his shaft in long slow pulls, every now and then letting the tip of his cock pop under her toes. When that happened, she would wiggle her toes and let him catch the full effect of her wily feet upon his cock.

In some respects Amy disliked the position they were now in. With the work bench stoutly built and heavily braced, little else could be done. Too much distance separated them for him to reach up under her skirt and toy with her aching clit. Even grasping her toes and sucking them to oblivion was out, though it was a thrill that Amy equally loved. A hundred times a minute she fought the urge to jump off her stool, climb onto the bench and have Scott bury his face in her sex. Or clamber on top of the bench and have him bury his shaft deep within her. While the desire was there, Amy had an ulterior motive and merely stayed at her post, sliding her nylon feet up and down his shaft waiting for him to erupt upon the tops of her feet.

Amy swooned with delight. Never in her life had she been so proud to please her husband. He had worked so hard to give her everything she had dreamed of, and now the very man she had wed, squirmed under the pleasure-pressure of her nylon clad toes.

Knowing he was close to ejaculation, Amy fanned the flames by splaying her toes just enough to flex the nylon in a provocative way. Placing them over the head of his cock, she had just enough time to capture the head of his penis between the ends of her toes and the ball of her foot. He tried to pry her feet off to a better position, but Amy held them firmly and then felt the powerful eruption as six blasts jettisoned into the cracks around her toes. Quickly she brought her other foot up and used the tops of her toes. In this way she contained the eruption and kept the mess to merely an ooze as his powerful blasts slowed and finally just dribbled out of his prick.

Amy watched with delight as a broad smile began to creep across her husband’s face. Even though she had not achieved any sexual fulfillment for herself, she had long understood the importance of satisfying a man with a fetish fantasy and knew it was something he would always remember.

“God Amy that felt so good.â€￾

“Well you deserve it. You have been working really hard these last few months and this farm is really starting to turn around. It’s been a long time since I put on nylons and played a little footsie with you, but I know you like it, and you know I don’t mind.â€￾

“No?â€￾

“Not at all, but as I watched the bull breed those heifers today I realized they are not the only thing that needs to get breed. What would all this hard work mean if we did not have children to pass it on to? Don’t you think its time to hear the little pitter-patter of feet around this place? Maybe a boy to help you do chores in a few years? Maybe a little-daddy’s girl to have some 4H sheep?â€￾ Now that I took the edge off I figure we can make love all night.â€￾

“And getting the haylage in before it rains?â€￾

“That will have to wait,â€￾ Amy said with a lustful smile.

I don't go to the Dr's very often, but when I do its often entertaining. First off my Doctor is female, in her late 40's perhaps and is pretty good looking. There is no question she is from "away" or out of state as we call it, and she does not tend to fit the typical Mainer mold. Now keep...

Barefoot Day
By Seasick

The morning rush had already been hectic, and squeezing through a throng of people equally hell bent on making the same train, to the same station, at the same time; Amy Lynn Steele felt glad to just have a seat as she plunked herself down on the hard plastic and watched the outskirts of Boston zip past. She had done it now for the past sixty five days, and while she was beginning to get used to the routine, she was also getting used to seeing the same people aboard the crowded train.

The woman beside her was one of the people she often commuted with, but unlike the previous days where the woman scowled, or talked business too loudly on her cellular phone, today she smiled. Amy was not sure if that came about because of the bright summer weather Boston was experiencing, or if it was her change of attire. Shedding the typical neutral colors of her knee-length skirt, blouse, nylon stockings and high heels, Amy noted that instead she wore a pink and white sundress that looked airy and light. She was about to push herself forward a bit to see what the lady had on for shoes when the woman helped her investigation by crossing her legs. It was done nonchalantly, but Amy was shocked at what she saw. The woman was barefoot.

For Bostonians, the local news media had been abuzz with Barefoot Day for the past several weeks. Some television stations claimed the day originated because of some boycott surrounding a major shoe manufacturer overpaying an athlete, while other stations claimed it was a nudist camp in Florida pushing their acceptance agenda. Whoever it was that first proclaimed the first day of summer to be Barefoot Day never expected so much controversy.

Immediately the television stations were overrun with Emergency Room Physicians, Nurses and Podiatrists calling for a ban on the day. Safety was their primary concern, but as with most issues in Boston, the more negative publicity the idea generated, the more popular the idea became. Fearing the worst, many hospitals added extra staff to their emergency rooms fearing a rash of foot injuries from having so many go without shoes. It was a hard point to argue against; Amy reasoned this as she looked down at the soles of her fellow commuter and noticed they were blackened from the grime of the city streets.

Yesterday the argument by the shoe defenders seemed so logical, but now Amy was not so sure. Looking around the train car she noticed two other bare foot commuters. Their demeanors were much like the woman sitting next to her, happy almost and certainly chipper. Amy had expected the barefoot people toiling about the city to be the college kids, or from more liberal backgrounds, never in her mind did she expect everyday working people to embrace the day so whole heartily.

As Amy contemplated the reasoning for their more inspiring demeanor, she thought it was perhaps because the day offered a fun change to a boring routine, or perhaps it was because the day offered freedom from society’s unwritten dress code. Either way Amy’s own high heeled pumps suddenly seemed cumbersome. Deep down inside Amy knew her high heels were not bothering her any more than normal, but as she got off the train and walked the two blocks to her office building, kicking off her shoes and going barefoot for the day began to sound appealing.

Stepping into the main lobby, Amy departed from her usual routine of heading straight for the elevators and whisking herself straight towards her office. Instead, she side-stepped in the lobby and approached a small alcove filled with several plush loveseats where clients could be met in a comfortable atmosphere.

Finding a seat on one of the leather couches, Amy set her briefcase beside her as if she was preparing to meet a client. Instead she crossed her legs, placed her hand firmly on her elevated high heel shoe, and slipped the uncomfortable shoe from off her foot. As she did so, the heel of the shoe ran across her beige nylons, making a zipping sound as leather ran across nylon. She looked around quickly to see if anyone had noticed the sound or what she was doing. Upon only seeing people steadily work their way towards the elevator, Amy was encouraged to slip off the second shoe.

It was the exact same procedure as the first shoe except that it required Amy to set her now all-but-bare foot on the floor. She was still wearing her nylons so the cool slate floor was tempered slightly. She was too preoccupied with slipping off her other shoe to pay much attention to the floor however. Even with both shoes off, Amy paid little attention to the floor underneath her meagerly dressed feet. That was because she was contemplating her next move.

After looking around the lobby one more time, Amy felt secure enough to slip her hand up under her skirt, find the hemline of her pantyhose and pulled them quickly down her legs. She was sure she had put more than one run in her stockings from her hurried removal, but scoffed at that small cost as she tugged them off her feet, the stretchy fabric making a slight snapping sound as she hurried to stuff her shoes and pantyhose into her briefcase.

It was only then that Amy felt the full effects of her actions. The slate floor of the lobby had been no doubt buffed to a bright polish by the night time janitor, but with nightfall also came the cool chilly air of early spring. Completely barefoot, Amy felt every ripple in the natural rock flooring, and felt the coolness well up into her feet. She also saw the contrast of her bare feet and the natural flooring, her pale white feet, complete with bright red toenail polish contrasting greatly against the dark blue, almost midnight black, slate flooring.

Taking a deep breath, and knowing everyone in the office building would soon realize she was barefoot; and would be going barefoot for the whole day; Amy stood up and strolled across the lobby with determination.

No one seemed to notice until she found the elevator and rode it to her floor with her colleagues. Stuffed inside the square hoisting box Amy had to be wary of people stepping on her feet with stilettos heels and polished up penny loafers. True to tradition, no one spoke, but looked humbly at the floor as the floors whisked by with the audible beep that indicated each floor. Only one man seemed to notice her lack of footwear, and it did not escape Amy that this man strategically placed himself beside her no matter how many people got on or off the elevator. When she looked up to see if she could catch the man smiling, she was shocked to learn that it was her own boss.

Now that a few hours had passed by, Amy was not surprised when he paged her asking for her to meet him in his office. Amy took a deep breath, then turned the knob of her boss’s door and slowly swung it open. She knew what he wanted to talk to her about, but decided to pretend like she did not know, and thus padded barefoot across the plush rug towards a chair on the other side of his desk. Amy feigned a smile then sat down, sitting up straight and tried to look professional even as she crossed her legs nonchalantly. As she did, she watched her boss’s eyes follow her movements, his eyes never moving from the arch her bare foot made as her leg crossed over the other and then hovered her foot in mid-air.

“Thanks for coming in Ms Steele,â€￾ he said handing her a single sheet of paper that obviously had been copied from another document. “Please read that if you would.â€￾

For a moment, Amy scanned the document seeing that it was a paragraph taken from the company rule book about dress codes. The yellow high-lighted passages were regarding the use of appropriate foot wear. After reading it, Amy still held the paper, but looked at her boss as he started to speak again.

“It’s pretty clear isn’t it; appropriate shoes must be worn while at work? Obviously you are not wearing any, and haven’t been all morning. Do you mind me asking you why?â€￾

“I thought since its barefoot day, it would be alright?â€￾

“Really? Well I forgot about today being barefoot day, but to tell you the truth Amy, I kind of expected a different answer from you. One of the reasons I hired you was because you don’t mind going against the grain, and saying how you really feel and not just repeating what you think I want to hear. I kind of thought you would say the dress code was restricting or you just liked being carefree….â€￾

“Well if you want me to be truthful,â€￾ she asked looking at him with a slight grin?

“Please do.â€￾

“Well personally I do like being a little care free, and the dress code is a bit strict about making us wear such uncomfortable shoes, but I don’t think this has anything to do with the dress code. I think you like me going barefoot. In fact I think you like me going barefoot maybe a little too much. I realized that in the elevator this morning.â€￾

“Interesting….â€￾

“I mean its okay. A lot of guys like woman going barefoot. Hell my ex-husband liked it, so I went barefoot around him all the time. I didn’t mind, but I think that is the real reason why you called me in here. It has nothing to do with the dress code. I have seen others in this place violate the dress code in far worse ways and nothing was said.â€￾

“Well if it’s only for this day,â€￾ he said then watched as Amy took her legs and placed them on his desk. It was such a simple act and yet she grinned as her boss began to shake since her feet were outstretched mere inches from his hands. He reached out to touch her feet, but as soon as he fingers got within an inch of them, he quickly withdrew them as if her bare feet were a trap waiting to spring on him.

“Amy if you’re going to do that, then yes, you will have to wear shoes.â€￾

“I’ll put my shoes on, afterwards,â€￾ she said and with a grin got up out of her chair and slowly walked to the door. Locking it, she gave her boss a wink and then disappeared into his bathroom for a moment. He was not sure what she was doing until she returned, her hand overturned and cupped, a dollop of hand washing soap pooled in her palm. Using her free hand, Amy pushed aside the papers on his desk and quickly jumped up on the desk.

“Amy,â€￾ he said, but while he meant it almost as a rebuttal, as Amy placed her bare feet into his crotch and toyed with him, he began to squirm from delight. He was also getting hard, his erection making a slight bulge in his pants that made Amy realize she was reading her boss perfectly.

“Pull down you pants and I’ll give you a footjob. It will have to be quick, but I don’t mind. I gave my ex-husband plenty of these. He called them Amyjobs,â€￾ she said with a laugh.

Amy’s boss was too engrossed in his good fortune to disobey. With a feverish pace, he undid the snap of his pants and pulled at his zipper all before gripping the waistband of his pants and underwear and pulling them down in one fell swoop. As the clothing cleared his knees, his erection sprang free, a jumble of wiry hair, droopy balls and a cock that sprang out in an arch, pulsating from the pleasure of having his one fetish be realized so openly.

He tried to look up at Amy and look her in the eyes, but Amy was already using the liquid soap to lather up the soles of her feet. She knew there were better choices but in his office their lubricating methods were reduced to using what they had on hand. Still, when she was sure her feet were coated enough with the liquid soap to defile friction, Amy granted her boss the look in the eyes that he was after. Her slight smile said it all, and that was she understood his need, his desire, his fetish…and that despite the office being the less than ideal location to grant him that pleasure, she had no qualms about letting him enjoy her feet.

With a lift of her feet, Amy heard her boss let out a low moan as her feet touched his cock for the very first time. It was a sound that was uttered from the pit of his stomach, his diaphragm emitting the sound of a man who was immensely pleasured, and that pleasure only grew as Amy lipped her feet tightly around his shaft, first lubricating his entire length with the instep of her feet, then maneuvering them slightly back so that she captured him between the bottom of her toes and the balls of her feet. In this way she could apply more pressure, stroke longer and flex her toes so that the feeling did not become stagnant and repetitive.

Instinctually, her boss reached out to hold her feet, rubbing some of the liquid soap on the topside of her feet, but also controlling the movement somewhat. Amy was convinced she was maintaining the right pace and pressure, but had no reservations about letting him speed up and slow the pace according to the deep guttural pleasures that were undoubting welling up inside him.

Amy could see this on the mans glazed eyes. Just the way he held an erotic expression, and from the way his eyes glazed over, Amy knew she was doing her job exceedingly well. Knowing full well her timed strokes and heavy toe flexing would inevitably get him to erupt upon her feet, Amy also knew men’s emotions, and knew them well. With one more trick up her sleeve, and nothing really to do with her hands, Amy placed them on the hemline of her dress and pulled the hemline upward. Momentarily, she lost contact with her boss’s engorged shaft, but this was rewarded by glorious peeks at his secretary’s s well manicured sex. He smiled at the sight of her slit, coming in and out of view in time with her long feet strokes upon his shaft. Amy furthered his pleasure by wiggling her arms out of the bodice of her dress, slowly unbuttoning the front, then pulling down her top so that her breasts were exposed. A quick tug at her bra gave her the nudity she was after. Amy knew she did not have the ideal feminine form but hoped her eagerness to undress, and the added visual stimulation; coupled with the ministrations upon his cock, would get her boss off quickly. Already the time seemed to be lagging as both of them were in a very uncompromising situation.

“Amy,â€￾ he began to say quietly as lust began to overwhelm him…

“Shhhh Hon, just enjoy it,â€￾ she said with a grin and meant every word, for she too was enjoying the sex.

Despite her nudity, her sexual act with a married man, and knowing full well every moment of this was wrong, Amy swooned with delight. Never in her life had she seen such a powerful man become felled by lust. The very man before her, who controlled so many careers, now squirmed under the pleasure pressure of her bare, soap soiled toes.

Knowing he was close to ejaculation, Amy fanned the flames by splaying her legs just a bit, letting the man get an open look at her exposed sex. As soon as she saw his eyelids roll back and his eye lids shut, Amy quickly repositioned her feet. Placing them over the head of his cock, she had just enough time to capture the head of his penis between the ends of her toes and the ball of her foot. He tried to pry her feet off to a better position, but Amy held them firmly and then felt the powerful eruption as six blasts jettisoned into the cracks around her toes. Quickly she brought her other foot up and used the tops of her toes. In this way she contained the eruption and kept the mess to merely an ooze as his powerful blasts slowed and finally just dribbled out of his prick.

Amy watched with delight as a broad smile began to creep across her boss’s face. Even though she had not achieved any sexual fulfillment for herself, she had long understood the importance of satisfying a man with a fetish fantasy and knew it was something her boss would always remember.

Amy swooned with delight at that thought, even as she grabbed her pair of pumps out of her briefcase and slid them on her feet. Walking around with heels soiled by her boss was not exactly what Amy wanted to do for the rest of the day, but she knew the act would impress him nonetheless. Slowly she pulled her bra and dress up over her chest and then pushed her hemline down to a more lady-like level, only then did Amy speak, and when she did so, she did it softly.

“Wait a second and I’ll get you cleaned up.â€￾

Silently she chided herself for not grabbing some tissues earlier from the bathroom, but it was a quick retrieval in any case as she came back and began to rub the combination sperm and soap from off her boss’s steadily decreasing erection. She was as through as she was dutiful, and after it was entirely clean, she leaned over and gave the head of it just a small kiss.

“Thank you for letting me do that. It’s been a long time since I gave a man a footjob.â€￾

“I think I should be thanking you,â€￾ he said. As he said it, Amy took a piece of note paper and started scribbling on it with a pen he had lying on the desk. Handing it to him, he could not help but inquire. “Six thirty seven Garland road, what’s that?â€￾

“It’s my home address. Barefoot day doesn’t get over until midnight you know,â€￾ she said with a big grin.

Illegal in Blue
By Seasick

Officer Keith Bohn smirked inside the darkened interior of his police cruiser feeling smug about his stealth position in a used car lot where he was hidden from casual view. Across the street a wedding reception had been raging most of the night, and was just now beginning to wind down. A quick glance at the clock on the radio revealed that it was nearing one AM, a time when most couples had left the reception to a younger, more rowdy crowd.

When Officer Bohn looked up from the clock, his patience was rewarded as he watched one of the Brides Maids say her good-byes at the foyer of the Odd Fellows Hall, and then make her way towards her car. As she did so, officer Bohn had a clear vantage point in which to observe her. As she opened the door to her silver Toyota Highlander, Officer Bohn had a split second of time to see the hem of her maroon dress slip over the mid-way point of her thigh and smiled as the wide bands of her thigh-high stockings were revealed. It was a glorious view, but short lived as the woman slid her long legs towards the pedals of the vehicle and then shut the door in one fluid motion. Officer Bohn’s carefully chosen position was not revealed even as the woman pulled out just in front of him and preceded to drive down the deserted street, the yellowish glow of the multiple streetlights glinting off its metallic surface.

For a few blocks Officer Bohn was content just to follow the vehicle, watching for the tell-tale signs of an inebriated driver. That patience began to wear thin however when he thought about the skimpy, tight fitting bridesmaid outfit she was wearing, and even more importantly, the accompanying thigh-high stockings and equally flattering high heels she had adorning her long legs. Thinking of that, the metallic surface of her silver car only reflected more light when he flipped the switch to his blue light bar, and saw the early morning darkness resonate with the pulse of intense blue strobes.

As Keith cautiously walked up to the driver’s side window of the expensive sport utility vehicle, through the rear window he could see the woman reaching into the center console, perhaps to innocently grab the necessary driver information police officer’s always asked for, or perhaps to grab for a breath mint in a pathetic attempt to cover her alcoholic breath. Either way he was disappointed. He had been in hopes that this woman would have tried to swoon the Officer by pulling up the hemline of her dress, and accenting her cleavage as best she could.

"Good evening miss. I'll need to see your license, registration, and proof of insurance,â€￾ he said as he shined the powerful light of his menacing looking flashlight in her face so as to temporarily blind her. As she squinted against the bright light, Officer Bohn danced the beam inside the interior of the car, presumably searching for illegal contraband, when in fact he was taking a look at her long legs that stretched out towards the operating pedals of her car. To his surprise however, the look netted its own reward when he saw her black high heels lying on their sides on the passenger’s floorboard.

“I’m afraid you’re going to have to put your shoes on Miss. In the State of Maine, driving barefoot is a citable offense as it really is for your own safety.â€￾

“I know,â€￾ she said meekly as she handed the officer the paperwork he asked for. “I’m just not used to wearing high heels and it felt funny driving in them.â€￾

Keith pretended to look over the paperwork, when in fact it was much more interesting to watch the young lady reach over the center console and begin to place her feet back into her shoes. It would have been a simple task, but the high heels had the added inconvenience of a single tiny strap that wrapped around her ankle and she fought for a minute getting each one of the buckles to lace through the tiny slit. Keith knew it was probably the nervousness at being stopped by a police officer that made the menial task so difficult, but he chose to ask her about the dexterity from a different point of view.

“Miss, have you been drinking tonight?â€￾

Keith already knew the answer when he saw her eyes grow big and her face lose all expression, then just as quickly as she looked up at him; she looked away, pretending to adjust the strap on her shoe as she muttered an answer into the darkened interior of the car.

“A little I guess.â€￾

“A little huh? Well I am afraid I am going to have to ask you to step out of the car Miss and submit to a field sobriety test. Are you familiar with what that consists of?â€￾

The young woman only nodded to the officer and quietly removed her seat belt and stepped out of the vehicle. As she did, once again Officer Bohn saw the hemline of her maroon satin Bridesmaids dress gently get tugged up her legs just high enough for the stocking tops of her stockings to show. This time however, he was much closer and got a much better view and had to suppress his pleasure by forcing himself not to grin.

“Okay Miss Boynton, why don’t we start with trying to walk in a straight line? Using your feet heel-to-toe, try and walk along this parking lot stripe without using your balance. Do you think you can do that?â€￾

“I’ll try,â€￾ she said and placed her right foot out first, then placed her left foot just in front of it and tried to alternate her feet as she tried to walk the ten feet or so Officer Bohn wanted her to walk a straight line in.

As Keith watched the attractive young woman stretch her arms out beside her, and tried her best to prove her sobriety, he could not help but watch her sexy black stiletto heels, making their slow, deliberate clicking sounds of heel tip upon hard asphalt. Twice he watched the heel dip into a wide crack in the pavement making the young woman lose her balance and catch herself by stepping off the line. On the second stagger, she looked at him, he hands on her hips.

“Can I at least take my heels off? I am not used to wearing them and I at least deserve a fighting chance at this?â€￾

“I suppose that is only fair,â€￾ he said as he opened up the rear door of his police cruiser so she could have a place to sit as she removed them. As she fiddled once again with the tiny silver buckles of her ankle straps, Keith honestly tried to assess her drunkenness. Even with a few years of law enforcement experience, he honestly could not determine if she was impaired by alcohol or not. This time she had less trouble with slipping the silver prong from out of the hole in the leather strap, but Keith knew removing her shoes was not a real test of mental dexterity.

“This is kind of ironic isn’t it? I can’t pass the sobriety test with my shoes on and I can’t drive my car with them off either,â€￾ she said with a smile as she pulled each shoe off in turn and tossed them gently onto the asphalt pavement of the parking lot. “You never said whether or not you are going to cite me for that infraction?â€￾

“I think there are more important safety concerns right now than you simply driving barefootâ€￾, Officer Bohn said as he watched the young woman stand up and walk the few steps to the white parking lot stripe. As she started to put one foot in front of the other, Keith could not help but look down at her all-but-bare feet. Clad now only in a pair of beige colored stockings; the fabric of which was so sheer that he almost wished she had left her shoes on.

For starters, the young woman had perfectly proportioned feet; neither too thin nor too long, and had each one had toes that nestled one against the other in a perfect descending order. The tips of her toes formed a perfect curve, no toe too long or short, and her nails were painted a deep maroon color that matched her dress perfectly. The color also was also bright enough so that it was visible through the thin, sheer fabric of her nylon stockings, a look that Officer Bohn especially liked. The last thing Keith noticed was how on the third toe of each foot, she wore a bright gold ring, an accent that she certainly did not need, for her feet along held his gaze, or any man’s gaze for that matter, without the need for expensive jewelry.

Now as officer Bohn watched the woman struggle to maintain her balance, it became clear that even bare-footed, Amy Lynn Boynton was to inebriated to drive.

“That’s far enough Miss Boynton. I’m afraid you are too impaired to drive your vehicle, and out of concern for you and the safety of others, I cannot let you drive home.â€￾

As his words began to sink into the young woman, Keith watched keenly unsure what the young woman’s reaction would be. As he spun her around and began to place the handcuffs on the young woman, she began to softly cry. He tried to block out her soft tears out of his mind and dedication to duty as he carefully sat her onto the rear seat of his police cruiser watching her head with his hand as he did so.

With her mind on her current predicament, Amy forgot about her shoes until Officer Bohn nearly tripped over them.

“I’ll take those,â€￾ she said as tears continued to stream down her face.

“I’m sorry Miss, we had an incident a few months ago where a woman kicked an Officer with a pair of high heels on, and he got injured pretty. New policy states that they have to be treated like weapons and confiscated. I’m sorry, but it is for my own safety.â€￾ Amy only nodded as the officer swooped them up, then gently tossed them onto the passenger’s seat as he pulled the police cruiser out of the derelict parking lot and started down the main highway.

As he did so, Amy only cried softly in the back seat. Keith could only look at her with compassion. This was the aspect of his job that Keith absolutely hated; arresting people for lapses in judgment when he had to release suspects that he was sure were guilty of far worse offenses, and yet evidence just was not there to support the arrest.

In his mind he rehearsed the whole scene that was about to befall on the young woman. It was true that her high heels now had to be treated in the same manner weapons were to be handled, and it turned his stomach knowing what her beautiful bare feet would have to be walking on. Blood, dirt and vomit were cleaned up from the holding cell on an hourly basis, not to mention the caliber of people that would be milling about in the same cell with her for the next few hours. Dressed as she was in her skimpy bridesmaid dress, Keith knew that in itself was a punishment worse than her crime. Thinking of that, Officer Bohn made a decision that he hoped he would not regret.

As the moon slowly made its arc in the night sky, Officer Bohn maneuvered slowly through the city streets. Behind him Amy cried softly in the back seat, holding her face in her hands as she felt the cold handcuffs cut into her wrists. She was too upset by her current predicament to pay much attention to the streets the police officer had taken until he came to a stop beside the curb. Looking up she noticed he had stopped just in front of her apartment.

“This isn’t the police station,â€￾ Amy stated in surprise as the office got out and opened up the passenger’s door and let the young woman out. As he undid her hand cuffs, he smiled as he spoke.

“You’re too inebriated to drive Miss, but at the same time I hate to see your life ruined just because you had one to many. Consider this a professional courtesy, but also consider yourself very lucky Miss,â€￾ he said sternly as he placed the hand cuffs back into their leather case on his belt.

“Are you going to get into trouble letting me go,â€￾ she asked as she wiped the tears from her eyes and then rubbed her sore wrists in turn?

“I could, but I’ll erase the dash cam and conjure up something on the patrol report. When your sober in the morning feel free to go back and pick up your car. I’m sure it will be alright there overnight.â€￾

“I will,â€￾ she said slowly, and then looked down at the pavement on the side walk. Slowly she looked back up at the officer, her gaze meeting his. “Now is this where I am supposed to invite you into my apartment and show my appreciation for helping me out? If it is, I will.â€￾

Keith only smiled.

“That is quite the offer, but because I’m still in uniform I’m afraid and that would be what we call Illegal in Blue. I’m afraid I’ll have to decline.â€￾

“But I’m still free to go?â€￾

“Of course Miss, just try to show a little better judgment the next time you are out drinking okay?â€￾

Amy nodded and ascended the stairs leading up to her second floor apartment. As she heard the police cruiser start up and pull away from the curb, her right foot hit the first stair tread. ‘Damn it, my shoes,’ she thought as she turned to see the taillights of the police cruiser make the corner at the end of the street. To late to flag the police officer down, she climbed the remaining stairs, cringing as skirted a broken bottle of beer on the mid-point landing, and skirted past a bag of trash that some alley cat had partially ripped open. Even with her feet barely protected by the thin fabric of her nylon stockings, Amy took refuge in the fact that she was only barefoot and not arrested, not realizing that it was her bare feet that had given her tonight’s freedom.

For the next two days, Officer Bohn often thought about what he had done for Amy and what it would have been like had he taken her up on her offer. Still the thoughts about her were beginning to wane as additional patrols brought additional problems and additional suspects into custody.

He was just wrapping up his shift, sitting at the small diner on the east end of town when Amy walked in. It took her a second of scanning the small building to spy the police officer and immediately smiled and made her way over to him.

“May I have a seat,â€￾ she cordially asked? Keith had to make a sweeping gesture with his hand as he had just taken a mouthful of his burger, but chocked it down in order to talk to the pretty young woman again. As he swallowed the bite of his burger, Amy continued.

“Your co-workers said you always ate here at the end of your shift. I thought I would catch up with you and see if I could get those pair of high heels I left in your car the other day?â€￾

“Yeah sure, they are in the trunk of my car. I’ll go get them.â€￾

“In due time,â€￾ she said with an inquisitive expression now spreading across her face. “There was something else I needed from you though. Why you let me go the other night? Most cops would not have done that, much less turned my offer down. Why?â€￾

Keith grinned but shrugged his shoulders.

“Every week I have to let some jerk out of jail that desperately deserves it because there is no evidence to hold him. You made a mistake in judgment. I just cut you some slack.â€￾

“That’s bullshit and you know it. I bet in your entire career you have never once personally taken a drunk driver home and told them to sleep it off. I could see you doing that if you thought you were going to get something from me, but having refused my little offer…â€￾ she said letting the words trail off as she studied his expression.

Officer Bohn only grinned, his face flushing a bit crimson as he looked down at his burger.

“You wouldn’t understand Amy. It’s complicated really.â€￾

“Try me.â€￾

“You have cute feet Amy. If I took you to the police barracks your shoes would have been confiscated and you would have had to walk barefoot on the most disgusting floors you have ever seen. That place is filled with fifty drunks on the weekend and the thought of those cute little feet walking through grime, puke and blood was pretty revolting. I hated the thought of you enduring that just because you had a little too much to drink. That’s the real reason I took you home Amy.â€￾

“And the reason you turned down my offer?â€￾

“Dressed as you were, the people you would have been detained with, would have been all over you. If I took advantage of you that night, I would be no better then them.â€￾

“Interesting reasoning,â€￾ she said, as a big smile spread across her face. “Of course having just been in a wedding, and having a few drinks in me, not to mention having a man in uniform just do me a huge favor, there was no way that would have been construed as taken advantage of me. In fact I think you would have done me a favor that night. I was more than willing.â€￾

“I could tell, but I was in uniform.â€￾

“I know, but it’s interesting. I have a thing for men in uniform and you have a little foot fetish,â€￾ she said now starting to get up. Keith only watched, disappointed that she was obviously leaving as the conversation was just starting to get interesting. “But now that you are off duty, why don’t you drop those high heels off at my apartment. I’ll be waiting…bare foot of course,â€￾ she said with a big grin as she turned and walked out of the diner.

Political Rivals
By Seasick

Jennifer Marshall forced herself to smile even as the man she so greatly detested politely pushed in her chair before taking a seat directly across from her at the expensive steakhouse they dined at. The arrogance within him was so great that the man had not even bothered to take his wedding band off even as he reached across the wooden table and gripped her hands.

“Now please my dear, no talking of Evan, daycare or of children in general, tonight is a night to talk about us.â€￾

“Yes,â€￾ she said softly, though in reality Jennifer was indeed thinking about the ten years of resentment had led to this moment, and how she was surprised at how quickly her plan had come together.

It had been surprisingly easy to find out the daycare provider of the Senator’s son, and just as easy to bring her nephew to that same day care center and ultimately make contact with the man she was hell bent on retaliating against. A known womanizer, it only took a few days of wearing some short skirts, high heels and stockings to get the man’s attention. A bit of a smile, some tolerance for some “accidentalâ€￾ touches, and that contact led to some conversation, some flirting and eventually this date.

“I would say you look nice tonight Jennifer, but you always are dressed nice. It’s nice to see a woman dress up even while running errands. Tell me, do you always wear skirts?â€￾

“Yes, it was something I learned from my dad. He always wanted me and my sister to dress nice, and of course insisted that my mother did as well. It’s just something that stayed with me I guess.â€￾

“It’s rare these days, but a nice change.â€￾

“Most men seem to appreciate it, but I like to please them, and it is still a man’s world out there,â€￾ she said with a smile. The Senator nodded, but as he did, the faint sound of a shoe clattering off the hardwood floor slowly came to his ears. It no sooner had reached his ears when he felt Jennifer’s nylon clad foot toying with his calf. With a look of surrender, Jennifer moved her foot up higher, using his legs as a guide until her foot was pressed tightly against the bulge in his trousers.

“Are you going to get me off with your foot,â€￾ he asked quietly, leaning over the table so that none of the other patrons could hear?

“If you would like? I can do something wonderful things with my feet,â€￾ she said as she wiggled her toes against pants covered scrotum.

Jennifer knew the senator must have liked what he saw, even as he squirmed under the pressure of her foot. She had spent considerable amount of time choosing what to wear for this man, and her stockings were no exception. Buying the most expensive pair she could find, Jennifer knew they looked sleek and smooth instead of grainy like the inexpensive brands. At the same time she was careful with her toe nail color choice, choosing a barn-red hue that contrasted nicely with the darkish fabric of her nylons. Now she wiggled her toes to let him see the effect of brightly painted toes wiggling with dark stockings before toying with his balls again.

Jennifer’s moment of glee was shattered when the Senator grabbed her foot roughly and began to grasp it. For a second Jennifer thought the Senator might have recognized her, but slowly the tight grip began to turn into more of a rub. Even as he held it tightly, Jennifer saw the Senator squirm and reach under the table with his other hand. Jennifer knew what he was doing when he finally pulled her foot ahead, stuffing her toes between the opened zipper. As he toes pressed up tightly against his engorged shaft, only the paper thin fabric of the stockings separated her bare skin from that of the Senator’s.

“Get me off,â€￾ he said leaning forward so only she could catch his simple statement.

Jennifer had given enough foot jobs to know that it would take two feet to do that. With a slight clatter she stepped out of her other pump and leaned back against her chair. It was awkward at best, and while the other patrons could not see what was occurring under the table, her body positioning was not exactly that of a couple having a formal diner together either.

Pressed tight against his shaft, Jennifer maneuvered her feet in time, and up and along his shaft. It was a difficult job, trying to capture the mans shaft between her insteps while rubbing. The Senator helped in this regard by gripping onto her feet and pulling them along his shaft.

Jennifer had always preferred being barefoot while giving a man a foot job, but she had given plenty to men who had a fascination for nylons. The Senator seemed to be such a man and the feeling of her rough, stockings as it made a slight zipping sound as it ran up and down his cock seemed to spurn him on. Already she could feel the vein running along his shaft length beginning to tighten, and several times she took her toe and traced this vein for his erotic pleasure.

As the Senator’s eyes began to close, and his feverish tugging of her feet along his cock began to increase, Jennifer knew he was close to coming. Gripping his shaft with expert skill, Jennifer held his shaft wither left foot, while stroking her right foot so that his shaft was captured between her big toe and fourth toe. After stroking several more times, Jennifer felt the man twitch and quickly shoved her foot up so that the head of his cock was under the ball of her right foot. She had no sooner captured it there when she felt the first powerful blast hit her foot and begin to soak into her nylons. Several more followed and she watched in awe as a man powerful enough to send a bill quickly through congress, became nothing more then a twitching pile of testosterone, overcome by sheer pleasure.

Jennifer slowly pulled her foot off his now softening shaft and slid her foot back into her shoe by toeing it into position with her left foot. Her soaked stockings clung to her feet and felt warm and sticky as she pressed against the floor to push herself into a more upright poison in her chair. As she did so, she could feel the man’s sperm press against the ball of her foot and ooze slowly between her toes. She cringed at the thought; at least from an emotional level. She detested this man with all her being, but on another level she had the proof she needed, she had loads of his DNA coating her toes, stockings and now inside of her black pumps.

“Thank you,â€￾ he said as he hefted his wine glass in a little toast.

“You’re welcome, but that’s just the tips of my toes,â€￾ she added with charm. “As I said, I don’t mind pleasing a man.â€￾

Upon seeing the waiter heading towards their table carrying a platter of food, Jennifer instantly knew her next move. It had been carefully choreographed a million times in her mind, and now she hastened to put down her wine glass and slip her hands underneath her skirt. For a moment all the Senator saw was Jennifer squirming in her seat, then reaching down under the table. What she had been doing became glaringly obvious when she pulled her panties off her legs and brought a black pair of lacey panties above the table and dropped them on the Senator’s plate.

“Jennifer, what are you doing,â€￾ the Senator uttered in a harsh whisper? People can see what you just did.â€￾ That was confirmed when a woman seated at the next table saw the lacey black panties bunched upon the plate and sucked in her breath rather loudly at the sight. Sitting on the Senator’s plate, and complete with a little wet spot from the slight turn on Jennifer had gotten from her expertly done foot job, the panties spoke volumes about what Jennifer’s role was later on that night. Timed to perfection, and right on cue, Jennifer picked up the plate as if it was a half eaten side salad and handed it to the waiter who had just arrived.

“Could you take this back to the kitchen please, the Senator and I are finished with these for the evening.â€￾ As the Waiter reluctantly took the plate, Jennifer only smiled at the Senator who was glaringly aware that the other patrons had watched the entire charade take place.

“Jennifer…â€￾

“What, that’s what you want isn’t it? To get in my panties tonight. To have sex,â€￾ she said as she began to tug down the top of her dress. “Why no, I don’t mind going topless for you Senator while we eat,â€￾ she said as her dress was pulled down so far, her breasts; without the benefit of a bra, sprang free in the open air. She said it as if the Senator had requested it, and in an instant a plethora of “oh my’sâ€￾, sprang up from the other patrons in the restaurant.

“Jennifer for God’s sakes pull up your dress. I am a Senator for Christ sakes, if any one sees you I am sunk…â€￾

“Sunk,â€￾ Jennifer asked in shock, but showed no sign of pulling up the top of her dress to cover her naked chest. “Sunk huh? Like you did me and my father? You don’t remember do you? The first election ever between you and my dad, when you had me followed, waiting for me to mess up so you could exploit it across the news and put yourself ahead of my dad in the polls. Oh yes Senator you are sunk. Most woman think back to their high school days and remember being in the backseat of a car with fond memories. I was pulled out half naked, arrested and charged with prostitution just so you could win an election.â€￾

“Yes, yes, so that was you huh. Well I am sorry, so lets get redressed here and we can discuss payment or something. We don’t need you…â€￾

“Having my topless picture with you strewn across the front page of the paper? Well it’s too late Senator. We have been photographed. I called the paparazzi, and they have got the whole thing. The footjob, the panties and of course me being topless.â€￾

“But how could you…Why?â€￾

“Because you killed my dad you scum. He couldn’t take the fact that everyone thought I was a hooker. His beautiful daughter; a hooker. He was not like you. He could have cared less about winning or losing the election, but to have everyone thinking his daughter was a prostitute, that was too much so he killed himself, all so you could win a stupid election.â€￾

“You bitch.â€￾

“Say cheese,â€￾ Jennifer said as she turned towards the front window of the restaurant wearing a big grin on her face. Somewhere beyond the pain of glass, a photographer’s flash resounded in the night sky.

Mismanagement
By Seasick

Jennifer Lynn Steele spun slowly around in her desk chair and stared out the window that overlooked the machine shop floor. Across the large steel building, massive machines hummed as they spun, milled and ground steel to amazing tolerances, some so tight they could only be seen and not felt with the fingers. It was this feat that amazed her, and of course what gave the company their competitive edge.

Turning back around to face her desk, Jennifer took a moment to survey the room. A grin spread across her face at what she had recently acquired. Only a month before, she had been standing on the opposite side of the desk, listening with shock as her father spoke two disturbing words.

Elder Hostel?

It was a combination of words Jennifer Lynne Steele never thought she would ever hear her father speak. By all accounts, her father was a workaholic, a man that had spent his entire life making a small fledgling toolworks company into a thriving business and Jennifer was enraged that he would be willing to place it into jeopardy.

“What are you thinking father? Why now when we are so close to getting more contracts,â€￾ she remembered saying in anger?

Since that day there had been many conversations between the two of them, but whether it was a true desire to start towards his degree, or just a mid-life crisis, it did not matter. A month had passed, and now Jennifer sat at this side of the desk and held the companies reins.

Leaning back in her chair, Jennifer sipped at her mug of coffee and reviewed the machine shops weekly schedule. It only took a minimal glance, for now that Jennifer was the Chief Executive Officer of the toolworks company, she kept it memorized and made sure it was adhered to with the utmost diligence. As the columns of numbers began to add up to favorable profits, Jennifer reclined a bit more in her chair, slid one leg over the other and began to unconsciously dangle her shoe from her toes. As it danced from the tip of her toe, Jennifer gave her foot a little flick and watched as the shoe clattered to the carpeted floor.

Without question, Jennifer’ dressed the part of the powerful business woman, complete with black pinstriped miniskirt, match black pinstriped blazer, and a white button up blouse that just peeked from underneath and around the edges of her blazer. Below the skirt, Jennifer wore a pair of beige nylons that were so sheer, so smooth that it left the machinists guessing as to whether she was wearing nylons or bare-legged. That reason alone was the sole reason she chose to wear such nylons. Her shoes however were her weakness, and in the carpeted confines of the offices, Jennifer seldom wore them. Even now, barely an hour into her work day, Jennifer reached down and pulled the black three inch stiletto heel off her other foot and placed it neatly under her desk. As she did, the buzzer sounded in the shop behind her and the employees began to stop their machines and began to gravitate towards the break room.

“God damn buzzer, I don’t think her father would be too happy about the way she has been treating us,â€￾ one machinist grumbled on his way into the break room.

“I know he wouldn’t. That Bitch has only been in charge a week and she’s installed a buzzer for break and lunch, started this mandatory overtime bullshit and increased our health insurance contributions. She keeps this up and no one will be here,â€￾ another machinist stated as lunch pails began to open up and the sound of the microwaves began to hum inside the break room.

“Well we have that visitor from the Air Force Contractor coming here today to look into that big contract for making those aviation parts. If it derailed that contract she would realize she could not do anything without machinists to make it.â€￾

“We can’t do that John, that would only hurt us. No we need to do something that would not jeopardize the contract and make the shop look bad, just her.â€￾

“Yeah like put down a big spot of coolant on the floor and watch her slip and fall when she walks over it in those stupid high heels she always wears.â€￾

“Or just take her shoes in the first place,â€￾ Tim said quietly. Tim was the Shop Supervisor and seldom spoke up in the break room when management issues arose. The fact that he spoke now, spoke volumes about how he felt and the other Machinist’s listened intently.

“She would look pretty funny trying to put on her perfect business woman persona without any shoes on her feet. I think we ought to do it. If we all stick together what can she do, fire us all?â€￾

It only took a few moments to craft a plan. As the buzzer sounded and the machinists began to go back to work, Steve and Scott grabbed a broom handle and a roll of duct tape and waited for Jennifer to leave the room. With three cups of coffee into her by mid-morning, it did not take long for its effect to take hold and she went into the office bathroom. As she did, Steve wrapped a big wad of duck tape to the end of the broom handle, then by opening up a ventilation grill that vented the stuffy office air out into the shop, Scott slipped the broom handle across the floor and stuck one of her high heels onto the duck tape. It only took a matter of seconds to retrieve both shoes. She was returning from the bathroom as the two employees quietly squirreled the stolen shoes into the men’s bathroom and hid them above one of the ceiling tiles above one of the urinals.

Through the glass that separated her office from the shop, the machinists watched with great delight as she sought in vain for her missing heels. They could see her pace back and forth, first searching around the desk, then in the closet and even out to her car. She asked the receptionist, before out of desperation she finally called Tim into her office.

“Tim I cannot find my shoes anywhere, and I have that Air Force Contractor coming in here in an hour to tour our shop. I’m thinking the Machinists are playing some sort of game with me?â€￾

“I don’t think it is a game Miss Steele, I think this is serious.â€￾

“This is childish Tim and as Shop Supervisor I demand that you get my shoes back to me now.â€￾

“No, I was your Shop Supervisor, now I am looking for a new job, just like half of those machinists out there,â€￾ and he began to get up.

“How dare you speak to me like that? You would never speak to my father like that, so why should I allow you to do the same?â€￾

“Because your father would never have done this, he treated his workers with respect. He would never have installed a buzzer. These machinists are adults; they don’t need some timer to tell them when to go to break. They don’t need an extra hundred bucks taken out of their checks to pay for health insurance when they barely make enough money now. Your father understood all that. He treated his workers good for a reason…they treated him good in return.â€￾

“So they are going to derail this contract just to get even?â€￾

“No Jennifer, they took your shoes so you look bad, not the company. Think about it. You have eighty machinists out there hoping to death that they get this contract so they can continue to work. That is all they want, but they don’t want to work in some sweatshop.â€￾

“Some changes were needed Tim.â€￾

“I agree. Hell they agree, but you could at least show them respect.â€￾

“I do respect them Tim. They work in ten-thousandths of an inch every day and make part after flawless part.â€￾

“Then tell them that Jennifer, not me,â€￾ Tim stated as he got up from the chair and walked out.

Jennifer took a deep breath and reflected on how things had spiraled out of control. She stared at her blank computer screen for a moment, and then down at her feet clad in the semi-opaque fabric of her nylons. A quick glance at her watch showed that she did not have much time to reorganize the troops.

It was a long walk down to the machine shop floor; one where she hung her head low and thought about how she was going to address the machinists. It was almost ironic, her heart feeling as cold as the concrete floor with only the most meager of material of her nylons separating her bare feet from the cold concrete floor.

As her speech began to materialize in her head, she had Tim stop production and had the Machinists gather around her. There was an eerie sound of silence as the machinist’s milled about, all of them mum.

“It seems I owe you all an apology. As all of you know, my father has left this company to me for the next few months and I really thought I could handle the job. In fact I thought foolishly that I could improve upon a good thing. The fact is, I have been to the best business college there was, taken some great classes and had some great professors. Unfortunately, they don’t tell you how to interact with your employees very well. After talking with Tim today it has become very clear that I have a lot to learn about managing people.â€￾

“It has come to my attention that a lot of you are planning on leaving. I guess I cannot blame you. Still without you this company can not survive, let alone grow. In an hour we have an Air Force contractor coming here to take a tour of our shop. This is a great opportunity for us to add more machinists, do some great work and make more money.â€￾

“Now you don’t have to answer me out loud, but for those of you that realize I have learned from my first horrible week as a manager, and that I will right some of the wrongs I made, and eventually become a better manager, you can start cleaning this shop up for this important tour. I guess for what it is worth, I am sorry I treated you so disrespectful.â€￾

It took a second for someone to move, but when he did; Tim walked quietly over to the rack holding up the shop brooms and started to sweep the floor. His actions showed more dedication than any words ever could and slowly the rest began to grab brooms, dust pans and began to fan across the shop to clean it up. That is except for one employee. Steve walked quietly over to Jennifer and spoke to her quietly.

“I have to tell you Miss, I was the one that stole your shoes and that no one else was involved in that. If you are going to terminate me for stealing, I understand. In fact I’ll go get them for you.â€￾

“Actually I don’t want them back Steve, I think I can use this little incident to make us stand out from the other machine shops.â€￾ Steve was left in confusion as Jennifer smiled and returned to her office.

An hour later, and struggling to control her nervous voice, Jennifer pushed the intercom to the receptionist. “Please, let him in,â€￾ she said and then stepping out behind her desk greeted the Air Force Contractor as he stepped into her office. After the traditional pleasantries were exchanged, Jennifer sat down behind her desk, crossed her legs and watched as the man’s gaze ran down her long legs and paused at her uncovered feet. She could see a little smile grow upon his face at the appreciation of her fine legs stretching out from the hem line of her skirt to the very tips of her toes.

“I suppose I should explain something Mr. Thalheimer. When I took over this company I made a little bet with the machinists that if they made it through a whole day without any machinist’s errors, I would give them something for their diligence. I figured it would be ice cream or something. I should have known better, but they are always making fun of how I wear high heels in a machine shop. The bet was, I would not wear my high heels for an entire day. So of course that was yesterday so of all days, today I had to live up to my end of the bargain,â€￾ she rambled on, making up her little white lie as she went.

“I certainly hope you do not look unfavorably upon us, I assure you we are a very professional company and having eighty machinists having a perfect day is quite the accomplishment considering the tolerances we work with. I figure if looking a little foolish for a day improves moral in here, then I could do it. I’ll probably be picking metal chips out of my nylons tonight, but I try to keep the machinists happy if I can. So I do have to apologize for my unprofessional appearance.â€￾

“Miss Steele, let me assure you have no reason to apologize. In fact I think it is great that the management here is willing to look silly if you will, just to improve moral. I came up through the machinist craft myself and today all I see is companies trying to manage employees with a heavy hand. I think it’s great that you are willing to keep things loose in this shop.â€￾

“Well,â€￾ Jennifer said as a smile came to her face,â€￾ if you are impressed with our management smile then I think you will also be impressed with out quality and skilful machinists…â€￾

As Jennifer began to trail off into her rehearsed speech about the company’s merits, she could not help but look down at her bare feet, her red painted toes just peeking through the thin fabric of her nylons. Never in her wildest imagination would she have believed that talking off a pair of high heels would have meant so much for the future of the toolworks.

Yes, silly me I kept going through you never realizing you had a sub-forum on here to post them directly. I'll add some other story's in the near future.

While obviously the foot job was fictionalized for the sake of eroticism, much of the rest of the story is true. The town of Bucksport Maine is very much real, and the grave stone with the black foot is also very real. In fact it has become somewhat of a tourist destination and certainly is part of ...

Ghostly Vengeance
By Seasick

"No," Alyson said as she slapped her boyfriend's foot from between her legs. Of course with it came a stern look, but Alyson's steadfast resolve was lost when he looked into her eyes and caught a hint of lust.

"But Alyson," he pleaded, ignoring her gesture and slipped his foot up under the hemline of her skirt and began to trace lines of her labia against her stretched panties. All attempts at stopping his foot were thwarted however when he again pushed against her labia and twisted it with passion. For over a minute, only the sounds of his foot gliding under her skirt could be heard as the two enjoyed each other’s company at the kitchen table of her parent’s home.

"God I need you Alyson," he said when their footsie session paused for a breath.

"Me too, but we can't do it here, my parents are home."

“There are ways,â€￾ he said as he looked down at the floor with a big grin spreading over his face. He did not have to spell out exactly what he wanted, Alyson already knew. It was no secret that Scott had a foot fetish and she had gotten him off with a footjob several times. It would still be risky, but if her mother came in, she could pull her feet out of Scott’s lap and her mother would be none the wiser.

Answering her boyfriend by placing her foot in his lap, Alyson was not surprised when he did not even bother to unlace her sneakers. They were made by Keds; and soft soled and made of white canvas; they easily slipped off her foot without having to be untied. Her white slouch socks were next, and Alyson had to grin as Scott gripped the sock with nervous anticipation and slowly pulled the white cotton off her foot. Rewarded with five cute toes painted delicately with a bright red toe nail polish, Scott would have swooped down to kiss each one if he had been flexible enough to reach it. As it was, Alyson pulled her foot out of his lap and quickly replaced it with her other foot. Once Scott had tugged off her other shoe and pulled off her sock, Alyson was a bit more relieved. It was one thing to be wearing shoes in the house, or to be in bare feet, but to be caught with one shoe on and one shoe off would have required some difficult explaining to her mother.

“God I love it when you’re barefoot Alyson.â€￾

“I know. Barefoot and pregnant huh?â€￾

“Well I don’t know about that,â€￾ he said as he gently steered her feet towards his pants that he hastened to pull the zipper down of.

“Well we got to start using something or I will get pregnant. We didn’t use anything last time, or the time before that.â€￾

“Well you won’t get pregnant doing this,â€￾ he said as he felt his girlfriends beautiful bare feet slip inside his open pants and touch his ever hardening cock.

While she had given Scott several footjobs, this one was replete with eroticism. They were in her parent’s home for one; her mother just upstairs cleaning out a closet while her father was outside mowing the lawn. Having to work her foot within the tight constraints of his pants was yet another. Several times as her toes ran along his twitching shaft, Alyson felt his zipper cut into the top of her foot. It would have been much easier if he had unsnapped his pants and unzippered them, bringing down the tops of his jeans for better access, but that would have been more difficult to explain if her mother came down the stair, or her father finished the lawn mowing.

So Alyson used her toes, positioning his cock as best she could between her big toe and fourth toe and rubbed the underside of his shaft from balls to tip. She used a lot of pressure, forcing him back hard against the wooden chair, but also letting him feel every inch of her bare feet along his shaft.

“You like thatâ€￾, she asked, but already knew the answer? His eyes were rolled back into his head as an indicator, and his hands were instinctively on her feet, pulling them up and over his shaft in a frenzied torrent of movement. Alyson slipped her other foot into his lap, and while there was not enough room for both of her feet to be inside his pants, it at least gave him something to hold onto, and something for him to see. In honesty, it was probably the latter point that was more important. Alyson had woefully fair complexion, and even with hours spent in the sun, the tops of her feet were white. This contrasted greatly with her bright red toe nail polish that Scott insisted she always wear.

Now looking down, he saw her perfectly manicured toes semi-poised as she pointed them straight out and let him see a lot of her feet taunt in muscular strain. More importantly however, was her other foot dancing its magic lap dance within his pants, pressing and stroking, sliding and moving along his shaft in erotic circles. Alyson also used just the right amount of pressure, and varied the strokes from long to short just to encourage interest.

Scott wanted nothing more to swoop down and bring both of her feet into play. To have his pants pulled off, the two of them naked in bed would have been the ultimate footjob, but for the moment he knew he had to be content with what he had. Alyson was at least willing to please him; here within her parent’s home when either parent could have popped in.

“Alyson….’, he said dragging her name out as a warm sensation began to over take him.

“It’s okay honey, you can come on my feet. I don’t mind.â€￾

Her words were so honest, so sweet, so sincere that it was all Scott could do to hold back. In one last effort of consciousness, he pushed her foot down so that her toes were covering the top of his shaft and began to come. Instantly Alyson felt the hot sticky jism splattered endlessly onto the tops of her toes and land and ooze within the four crevices five toes created. She kept her feet positioned as they were for a moment, ensuring he was indeed spent, and then when his grip on her feet began to relax; she ran her feet along his softening shaft for a few strokes before pulling it out of his open zipper.

As she held her feet up off the floor, she reached under the table for her socks and shoes, and slipped on her slouch socks before her boyfriend’s come made a telltale dollop of mess upon her mother’s kitchen floor.

‘Thank you,â€￾ he said as his senses began to come back to him. “I really needed that.â€￾

“I didn’t mind,â€￾ she said with a grin, as a beam of reddish sunlight shot through the sliding glass door of the colonial home and pooled on the wide pine floorboards of the kitchen as Alyson moved from the kitchen table. The light was fading into night, but she could see well enough to saunter across the hardwood floor feeling her boyfriends jism slowly soak into her white socks as she did so. Her mother had an antique highboy she kept for her better stationary and Alyson was intent on getting a couple of pencils for more serious studying now that his attention had returned to normal.

She smiled at her reflection in the glass doors, her skin replete with a tan from the long days of sunning herself over the summer. She was not sure if the reflected image on the glass was magical or just mystifying, but it seemed to be the only furniture in the house whose reflection she did not take exception to. Even though it was not a mirror per se, her hips, stomach and thighs all looked more slender, her facial features more defined and younger looking.

Alyson pressed forward, literally squishing her chest upon the upper drawers of the highboy she tried to peer in the uppermost drawer. As she did, her movements dislodged a key that had been hidden safely behind the drawer for decades. Picking it up, one of the facets on the shiny key reflected a glimmer of light and Alyson quickly applied it to the lock on the front to the highboy and opened up each drawer.

All were empty of anything but normal, mundane things, but curiously, the bottom drawer rattled. Alyson investigated further by prying the drawer carefully out of the opening and looked carefully at the back. As she had expected, the drawer contained a false bottom and she removed it to see a diary waiting for decades to be discovered.

"Great Grandma's Diary," she said aloud when she read the name stitched into the front.

"What," her boyfriend asked as he groggily rubbed the endless pages of his text book from his eyes?

"I found my Great Grandmother's diary hidden in this drawer," she said with obvious excitement. As he rubbed his eyes, Alyson began to turn page after page, scanning the handwritten pages with quickness and interest. Lost in the content of the diary, Alyson was oblivious to the fact that she was supposed to be studying for a test.

"Oh my God,â€￾ she said upon seeing an important discovery. “She was having an affair with a Judge, a married judge at that."

"So what, he wanted a little on the side. No big deal."

"It was big back then," she said and continued to read. After a few minutes of silent reading, Alyson began to talk to her boyfriend again.

"It says here that the affair was discovered by the Judge's wife and that she demanded retribution. My Great Grandmother was then accused of witchcraft within the span of a week."

Alyson was shocked by these words, but when she looked at her boyfriend to whom she was speaking, she saw his eyes were again locked onto his text book. Ignoring him she turned to the last entry in the diary and read it silently.

"Oh dear diary, what have I done? What have I done? What should have been true love and companionship has turned into heartbreak, for this is my last entry. I shall give this to my sister for safe keeping and swing from the gallows at noon. Oh Lord what have I done?

Alyson was astonished at these words. She had heard about her Great Grandmother's trial of witchcraft, but this turn of events was too much. She bolted from the kitchen, her pleated skirt and tight fitting top was skewed and rumpled looking, but Alyson did not care as she grabbed her sneakers and quickly thrust her feet into them, without bothering to even lace them, she grabbed her Great Grandmother's diary and bounded out the sliding glass door, forgetting all about her boyfriend.

"Alyson. Alyson, where are you going," but his words were lost as a dust-devil followed her across the driveway.

Twenty minutes at a hard jog brought Alyson to the Town of Bucksport's main street cemetery. Judge Buck, the founder of the town, had a prominent head stone at the head of the cemetery overlooking the river. In front of it stood a heavy chain to keep the tourists from touching the legendary monument. Alyson dipped below this chain and read the brass plaque out loud.

"John Buck, born in 1719 in Massachusetts, he was granted a parcel of land in what is now Maine. Buck had dark, penetrating eyes and was a man of strong convictions. And was also the Justice of the Peace."

"A woman was accused of witchcraft and brought before Colonel Buck. She was then condemned to death. As the noose was placed around her neck, she uttered this curse," Jonathan Buck, listen to these words, the last my tongue shall utter. In the spirit of the only true and living God I speak to you. You will soon die. Over your grave they will erect a stone that all may know where the bones of the mighty Jonathan Buck are crumbling to dust. But listen, all ye people, and may your descendents ever know the truth. Upon that stone will appear the imprint of my foot, and for a long time after your accursed race has perished from the earth the people will come from afar to view the fulfillment and will say: There lies the man who murdered a woman. Remember well, Jonathan Buck, remember well."

"After the Colonel died, his grave was marked by an ordinary marker. In 1852, Buck's descendents decided to erect a larger, more elegant monument to better honor Bucksport's namesake. That is when the curse came to bear."

"An exceptionally clean, unblemished piece of granite was chosen. Nevertheless, one morning the townspeople noticed the unmistakable mark of a leg and a foot on the front of the monument! It was assumed that it was done by vandals, and they attempted to have the monument cleaned with some kind of solution, but nothing work. They also tried to gouge it out, but it returned, and the monument was even replaced three times, but the image returned every time."

"But it's wrong. The legend of Bucksport is all wrong," Alyson cried out just as a gust of wind kicked up and began to blow the oak leaves of the cemetery trees around in an eerie cyclone. It brought a cold chill to Alyson's meagerly covered skin, giving her the same strange goose bumps that had occurred in the kitchen. As she turned to rush out of the frightening cemetery, a strange soothing voice began to call her name.

"Alyson, dear Alyson, please don't leave. You're the first mortal I have spoken to in fifteen decades. Please stay, please; you are the only one in our family who can take vengeance against our family's past."

It took all of Alyson's nerve to turn and face the voice she heard. She was not sure what to expect, but she held her Great Grandmother's diary close to her heart as she spun on one foot and watched a white apparition come closer from the back of the headstone and revealed itself before her very eyes. It shimmered a white translucent color, but did not approach any closer than five feet or so.

"Who are you and how do you know who I am, or about my family's history?"

"I'm your Great Grandmother Alyson. The one that penned the very ink in that diary you are holding...the one who was murdered...the one who has been waiting for a family member to discover that diary and extract revenge."

"Revenge?"

"Revenge my dear," and as she spoke, Alyson felt a strange sensation, a mixture of warm and hot liquid burst forth and rest upon her stomach. Instantly she stepped back.

"This is really giving me the creeps."

"I was only touching the child Alyson. The Great Great Grandson of Jonathan Buck."

"But I've never done anything of the sort with anyone who is a Buck."

"No, no you haven't my child, but you have with a Blake. A Scott Blake to be exact, your boyfriend whose mother was a Buck before getting married, making the child within you...

"Jonathan Buck's Great Great Grandson."

"Correct, and now it's our family's turn to extract justice Alyson."

"And just how do you propose I do that," she asked in a huff, crossing her arms at the apparition of her all-knowing Great Grandmother?

"The answer is in the wind my dear," and with those words the white silhouette disappeared into the darkened evening.

As a bright pink glow settled upon the western horizon, Alyson noticed her goose bumps were gone. The only thing her Great Grandmother had left behind was a heavy breeze that eddied around the schoolgirl, and then only for a minute. Just as quickly as she disappeared, so did the wind. As Alyson went to bolt from the frightening cemetery, a lime green brochure lay at her feet. She paused again, hearing the last words of her Great Grandmother echo in here ears as she stooped over to pick it up. "The answer is in the wind my dear. The answer is in the wind..."

Alyson was trembling as she picked up the bright green brochure. Flipping it over, she was startled by what she read. ABORTION IS MURDER! the brochure from a religious conservative group proclaimed in bold black ink.

"Oh my God," she gasped in horror at the unmistakable wish of her Great Grandmother.

"Oh my God!"