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Tap.

Tap, tap, tap.

Tap, tap.

The familiar chimes of plastic keys decorated the air. On this day, Quinn was particularly enraptured in a piece of writing. She just had a heated discussion with an ignorant client who insisted on including foot fetish in their request despite her well known and clearly indicated rule against it. Normally, she’d simply block such customers or reject their story entirely, but this individual had requested multiple stories in the past, and she always got paid generously.

You’d think my regulars would get the gist by now. The nerve of some people…

Quinn’s keystrokes grew harsher, laced with her stewing frustration.

I’ll show them. You don’t need sweaty, repulsive body parts to make a good story. I’ll give them a story that’ll knock their pants off. They won’t ask for another pair of smelly feet ever again.

Quinn leaned closer to the screen, eyes narrowed, determined to produce a masterpiece of erotica. What she failed to notice in her zeal was that her feet had once again begun to wander. The pungent smell of being clad in socks and slippers for hours slowly began seeping into the air. With her mind so focused on the story and her growing irritation, Quinn didn’t even feel her right leg gradually repositioning itself. After a few moments, her right foot, encased in a maroon ankle sock with sweat stained soles, sat just in front of her plain pink panties. Her foot wiggled its toes in anticipation.

It started slowly. After making sure Quinn was still fully engaged in her writing, her right foot carefully inched its heel towards her unsuspecting snatch. It first made very gentle contact, to which Quinn gave no reaction. Only then, did it begin to gradually rub her clit through the fabric.

Quinn was clearly in a bad mood. Her fingers struck with such fervor that they threatened to break apart her keyboard. The combination of the hot summer day, the incessant client, and the disgusting thought of feet made her especially angry. She couldn’t wrap her head around why people were so fascinated with feet. Feet smell, they sweat, and they’re gross. Why couldn’t her client understand that? Feet should be covered whenever possible as much as possible. As far as Quinn was concerned, wearing socks and shoes at all times should be written into law. She was so upset her face was growing flush, and her breathing was getting heavier.

Wait.

Quinn’s mental tirade was cut short when she noticed how she was feeling. The heavy breathing, the red cheeks, it wasn’t just an emotional response, nor was it a consequence of the summer heat. In fact, the combination was all too familiar to the adult novelist.

Am I… getting turned on? What the...

It wasn’t impossible for Quinn to feel some excitement due to the nature of her work, but she hadn’t even written any particularly saucy scenes yet. Not to mention she was angrily thinking about feet of all things. Arousal is the last feeling she should be experiencing, yet it was only growing stronger. She even realized she was involuntarily grinding against her chair.

What is going on with me?

Finally, Quinn felt the movement against her crotch and instinctively looked down. To her complete and utter shock, what she was grinding against wasn’t her chair, but instead, her own right foot. Not only was it out of her slipper, but it was eagerly rubbing her own heel against her panties.

A million thoughts flashed through Quinn’s head. Shock, from the unintentional actions. Confusion, from not knowing why she was doing this or how she didn’t realize sooner. Disgust, from seeing and feeling her sweaty foot touch her body.

Quinn immediately tried to pull her foot away. Her surprised was instantly doubled when she saw that her foot didn’t budge at all. She tried again and again, but her leg showed no signs of moving, and her foot kept grinding away. Unbeknownst to Quinn, the late-night sessions while she’d been sleeping had trained her body to be highly receptive to foot fondling. By now, her breathing had gotten even heavier and she kept unintentionally grinding back into her foot, sending shivers up her spine. Every time she gasped, she’d breath in more of the foot stench permeating the room, and the pleasure in her subconscious would be further heightened. A stain was beginning to form on her panties.

Quinn, ignorant to anything that happened the last few nights, was incredibly confused as to how she’s getting so flustered by just her foot grinding against her through her underwear. That confusion combined with the mounting feelings of pleasure distracted her from thinking straight and made her start to panic. She grabbed her rogue limb with both hands, getting her palms uncharacteristically wet with sweat, and desperately tried to pry it away. Unfortunately, her leg had magically gained immense strength. Her foot felt immovable, and it was intent on bringing her to orgasm.

Following an entire minute of trying and failing, Quinn suddenly felt her foot relent. However, before she could celebrate, she felt her leg shake her hands off. She watched her foot turn, completely without her input, until the sweaty sole of her sock faced her from below. Then, her foot, entirely of its own accord, _waved _at her.

“What the fuck!?”

Quinn couldn’t help but voice how utterly disturbed she was. All she heard in response was a small giggle. Before she could even process where the sound was coming from, her eyes widened. Rising slightly into the air, she saw her right leg and ankle bend in an unbelievable act of flexibility to point her own toes towards her pussy. Her toes gestured towards the visible dark spot, as if signaling its intention.

“No…” Quinn instinctively shook her head and whispered in protest.

Her sentiment seemed to fall on deaf ears however, as her foot plunged back in. Unlike her heel, her toes were highly agile; they attacked her clit with precision, alternating between making small circles with her big toe and running up and down the outline her slit with all five toes. Her panties were soaked within seconds. Moans and grunts escaped the poor girl as she watched her own foot work her clit better than she, with her fingers, ever had. Quinn, now lost to the throes of pleasure, couldn’t help but thrust against her own toes.

After several minutes of humping her own foot, Quinn’s arousal had reached mind melting levels. She grabbed and squeezed her breasts while her foot worked away. However, no matter how horny she got, she felt no closer to finishing. In fact, it felt as if her toes were intentionally preventing her from doing so. They would skillfully massage her clit until she was on the brink of orgasm only to stop short, slowing down and giving her body time to calm down. This relentless teasing was driving Quinn crazy. When she tried to reach her hand down and do it herself, her foot kicked her away.

“Fuck, let me cum!” She cried, clearly frustrated.

Just then, her left foot kicked off the wall behind her desk and Quinn felt herself and her chair flying backwards.