My Daughter’s Best Friend

Posted on Posted in Stories

I swear to you, I never meant to sleep with my daughter’s best friend! She was twenty, for goodness sake, I went to college with her mom! Oh god, if anyone ever finds out, I’m done for… But how could I not? It was the pantyhose…

I’d been out of the house running errands. Sarah, my daughter, was away at college and I had the place to myself. Her deadbeat father had left years before and I’d found myself settling into the single life with some relish.

I returned home around four and dropped the groceries off in the kitchen, then I wandered into the den to have a well-earned sit-down.

And there she was, as large as life, sitting on the couch and looking as though butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth! She must have let herself in with the key under the plant pot.

“Katie,” I said, suddenly concerned that something might have happened to Sarah, “are you, okay honey?”

“Yes, Miss Ford,” she said quietly. Katie was a good kid, never in any trouble, never running around the town with boys or experimenting with alcohol. Unlike my Sarah…

“What are you doing here? Sarah’s away at college, you know?”

“I actually came to see you, Miss Ford,” she said. She seemed calm, not distressed at all. As the shock of finding the girl in my home faded, I started to notice how she was dressed. Her outfit wasn’t at all like Katie’s usual conservative style. A short, denim mini-skirt and a gorgeous white off-the-shoulder top. And pantyhose, pale, white pantyhose…

“What can I help you with dear?” I said, moving across the room to sit on the sofa beside her.

She paused. “I read your books,” she said after a second, then lifted a single finger to her lips.

I glanced around, unsure what she meant. I was about to ask her when she spoke again.

“I found them on Amazon. The stories you wrote.”

The bottom fell out of my world in a flash. I felt instantly dizzy, my vision collapsed into a tunnel. I thought I’d been careful…

“I don’t know what…” I began, desperate not to reveal my dirty secret.

“I’d noticed the manuscripts on your laptop when Sarah and I were doing a college assignment,” she said. A look of triumphant pride flashed across her pretty face, framed by the cascade of golden hair that tumbled down her neck. “I looked up the name you use online, and downloaded some stories.”

A horrific thought crossed my mind. “Does Sarah know?” I demanded.

She shook her head and smiled. “No, only me.” She paused for a second, then shuffled closer to me, locking her eyes on mine. “It’s okay Miss Ford. I liked them. They made me feel… excited.”

For the first time, I felt a rush of guilty pleasure, a hot warmth between my thighs. I glanced down at Katie’s body as she curled her legs beneath her and stroked her hand across her pale white hose. Oh shit, this couldn’t be happening. Erotica writing was a hobby of mine, a way of exploring the fantasies that I’d been having ever since my husband left me. I never meant for them to be read by anyone I knew!

“The way you write about girls… about girls together,” she started, looking suddenly serious and older than her years, “it’s how I feel.”

I nodded numbly.

She turned and gazed down at her body, then stroked her slender fingers up her calf to her thigh. “I wore pantyhose for you,” she purred, then pointed her feet at me. “Do you like them?” she asked, her voice dripping with sultry sexuality.

“I… I…” I stammered.

She turned her body and sat with her back to the corner of the sofa, then stretched her long, coltish legs out towards me, resting her feet on my thighs, sliding the soft nylon of her hose against mine. “Would you like to touch them?”

I felt my heart hammering in my chest and a hot flush that rose over my neck to burn my face. In the back of my mind, I felt a glowing shame, an embarrassment that my filthy secret was out. That my sordid fetish, my near obsession with pantyhose and feet, was known by someone other than the countless anonymous readers who share my desires. But that feeling of shame felt distant and indistinct as I gazed down at Katie’s feet, encased in pale nylon, her toes unpainted but well kept, flexing in their delicate prison; how she felt warm against me, how the sight of her and the smell of her was making my pussy sing with an unfamiliar beat. She was my daughter’s best friend for Christ’s sake!

I turned to her and nodded, unable to resist what was being offered to me, unable to prevent the dam of my desires from breaking and flooding my senses with an unstoppable deluge of hungry lust. She smiled, triumphant, and sat back on the couch, nibbling on her fingernail as she watched me with rapt attention.

With trembling hands, I reached down and touched the top of her foot, relishing the silky softness of her hose and the warmth of her skin. She flinched at my caress and her toes curled, digging into my thigh. I became fixated by the contrast of her white pantyhose and my black pantyhose, the feeling of contact and slippery friction between us as I stroked her foot.

Then she shifted and pushed her legs straight, lifting her foot from my thigh and allowing me to touch her sole. With that slight motion, I caught her scent in my nose. A maddening cocktail of girlish perfume, soap, and sweat. My pussy roared and throbbed with an incessant drumbeat as all of the fantasies that I’d written about, but never lived, came alive at once. I touched my hands to her feet once more, pushing my thumbs into her soft soles, massaging her, kneading her, every silky caress provoking new heights of desire in my body. My pussy felt hot and wet, slippery thighs brushing together as I squirmed on the couch.

I turned to her, unable to believe what I was doing. When I glanced up, she parted her legs slightly, allowing me to see up her short, denim skirt. I gasped and my heart raced as I saw her young pussy beneath the pale material of her hose. She wasn’t wearing any panties and her exquisite pink folds were frozen as though locked in ice.

“Your mother, she…” I began, my final, futile protest, my last effort to avoid calamity.

Katie lifted her finger to her lips and whispered her reply. “Shh,” she breathed and, with that, my resistance faded in an instant.

“I want you to use your mouth,” she said. I could scarcely believe that this normally reserved young woman was commanding me so easily, that she controlled this situation as though she’d done it a million times. At that moment, I truly believed that I would have done anything that she asked.

I shuffled forward and slid from the sofa, lowering myself to my knees before her. Then I took her long leg and lifted her foot until it was inches from my face. For as long as I could bear, I resisted the temptation that I felt so badly and studied her foot, relishing the expanse of young flesh before me. The intricate wrinkles of her sole, smoothed to perfection as she flexed her digits back and forth; the delicate line of her toes, framed by the seam of her pantyhose; the exquisite aroma of shoe leather and sweat and perfume that made my heart hammer and caused a peculiar sensation of dizziness to grip my mind as it filled my nose and throat.

I changed my focus, looking past the girl’s foot along the length of her leg and down to the inviting space between her thighs. I sighed as I watched her slip her hand beneath the waistband of her pantyhose and force it down, fingers slipping into her pussy and spreading her slick, pink lips apart for me.

A thousand imagined fantasies flashed through my mind, a hundred sordid tales that I’d written down these last few years, contrived scenarios from the deepest, darkest recesses of my mind and encapsulated in words as my pussy ached and longed for these experiences. Yet here I was, living such a dream, finally confronting what I’d never dared would actually happen. All thoughts of my college friend or my daughter or the shame of my secret revealed were gone now; in their place was lust, pure, primal desire, the overwhelming need to touch, taste, smell, to fuck this young girl, to savor the soft warmth of her body and every blissful sensation of her long legs and sinful feet.

With the final barrier of my resistance fallen, I plunged forwards, pressing my face against her sole, driving my nose into the space between her toes. I breathed in, deeply, quickly, pulling her essence into me, filling myself with her. I felt dizzy, uncontrolled, fuelled by desires and instincts that were until now theoretical, but which crystalized into sordid reality in the fraction of a second after I tasted her for the first time. Like a woman possessed, I kissed her and licked her, each touch eliciting soft, long moans from somewhere far away, girlish expressions of surprise and delight.

As I nibbled her arch, I glanced up at her and found her hand moving quickly between her legs, quick circles, a blur of motion as she massaged her clit. Beyond that, her pretty face was flushed and pink, mouth parted and eyes wide. She seemed entranced, enthralled, as shocked by the reality of sensation as I was. I turned back to her foot, her pantyhose now soaked by my mouth. One by one I plucked at her toes, nibbling, biting, kissing. Then I shifted my attention to her other foot, repeating the sordid ritual of my worship anew, reliving that glorious sense of discovery and the exquisite deluge of sensation. And all the while, Katie’s hand moved in a swift blur on her young pussy, provoking her to quick sighs and soft moans.

Panting, I pulled back, still holding her foot by the heel, gazing at her hand between her legs, suddenly feeling as though I was in control. I reached out and lay my hand on hers, halting its quick motion on her pussy and locking it in place. She gasped.

“Let’s go to my bedroom,” I finally said, breathless and horny.

She nodded. “Yes, Miss Ford.”

Hand in hand, we scampered across the living room, stockinged feet tapping on the hardwood floor.

Oh god, I thought to myself, this will make a wonderful story!