Hippy chick next door (F/F)

[Janbound]

Yes I have a foot fetish. I also like sheer stockings and tights. And I might dream of being a barefoot lesbian cougar in a few years.



"Jesus fucking Christ—" Amy barely caught the coffee mug before it slipped from her grip, her elbow jerking awkwardly as she tried to balance the laundry basket against her hip. The back door was already swinging open before she could even set anything down.

“Coooooeeeeee. Amy.”

Jan’s voice stretched like warm toffee through the doorway, accompanied by the familiar jingle of her ankle bracelets and the faint scent of patchouli oil that clung to her like a second skin. She was her usual hap hazard self, despite it being 915 on tursday morning she was wearing a silk dressing gown loosely tied almost falling open and her bare feet had chipped black nail polish under her numerous rings and anklets.

Amy exhaled sharply through her nose—a habit she’d developed specifically for Jan’s impromptu visits—as the laundry basket dug into her ribs. The older woman’s gaze immediately flicked downward, lingering just a beat too long on Amy’s ankles where her tan tights disappeared into well-worn crocs.

"Brought you some kombucha," Jan trilled, holding up a murky bottle with her left hand while the right one drifted absently toward the doorframe, fingers tracing the wood grain. Her robe gaped dangerously almost exposing her chrst and Amy saw, as a,ways, she wore no bra.

Amy adjusted her grip on the basket, shifting her weight to one foot so the crocs made a soft squeak against her heel. Jan's eyes snapped to the sound like a cat hearing a can opener. "You know I hate that fermented garbage," Amy said, but Jan was already stepping inside without invitation, bare toes curling against the linoleum in quiet delight.

The robe fluttered open further as Jan set the bottle on the counter, revealing a sliver of sun-freckled thigh and the frayed hem of cutoff shorts underneath. Amy caught herself staring—just as Jan intended, probably—and quickly focused on the laundry basket's contents instead. A sock tumbled over the edge, landing near Jan's feet. The older woman inhaled sharply.

"Oh honey, you shouldn't have," Jan purred, reaching slowly to retrieve it with one bare foot, her anklets chiming like wind chimes in a storm. Her toes brushed Amy’s ankle before grasping the sock's fabric with reverence before glancing at Amy through her lashes. "Still warm from the dryer?"

Amy shifted abruptly, nearly dropping the basket again as the coffee mug’s contents sloshed onto her wrist. The liquid was lukewarm now, but the sensation of Jan’s lingering stare burned hotter. "Cut it out, Jan," she muttered, though her voice lacked its usual bite. The sock still dangled from Jan’s toes like some perverse trophy, swaying slightly with her exaggerated movements. “I dont know why you wear socks anyway.”

Jan giggled, a sound like wind chimes tumbling down stairs, and finally plucked the sock from between her toes with manicured fingers. She held it up, inspecting it with mock solemnity. "Cotton blend," she murmured, rubbing the fabric between her thumb and forefinger. "Soft. Just like I imagined."

Amy rolled her eyes, but her pulse jumped traitorously when Jan pressed the sock to her own nose and inhaked with a theatrical sigh. The laundry basket creaked under Amy's tightening grip. "Are you seriously sniffing my laundry now?"

"Just testing your conditioner, darling," Jan murmured into the fabric, her voice muffled but her eyes bright with mischief over the crumpled cotton. She lowered the sock slowly, letting it drape over her wrist like a waiter's towel. "Tide Free & Clear, hint of lavender dryer sheets...and you." Her tongue darted out to wet her lips. "Divine."

Amy's crocs squeaked again as she took an instinctive step back, colliding with the edge of the kitchen island. The coffee mug trembled in her grip, its remaining contents swirling like a tiny brown whirlpool. Jan mirrored her movement forward, the robe parting further to reveal the jagged hem of her homemade cutoffs riding up her thigh—frayed denim whispering against skin that hadn't seen sunscreen in decades, along with a bare left breast, equally tanned.

"You're impossible," Amy breathed, but her gaze flickered down to where Jan's toes were now kneading the linoleum in slow circles, leaving faint damp prints from whatever mysterious oil she'd rubbed into her feet that morning. The scent—something earthy with a citrus undertone—mingled unnervingly with the lavender from the sock still dangling from Jan's hand.

Jan's laugh lines deepened as she took another deliberate step closer, the robe's silk belt finally surrendering to gravity and slithering to the floor with a whisper. The newly exposed lace trim of her cutoff shorts strained against her hipbone, and Amy couldn't help noticing how the older woman's bare toes had inched forward until they were almost touching the scuffed rubber toe of her own crocs.

“Jan ! You’re almost naked in my kitchen at 930 on a Tuesday morning, trying to push whacky booze on me whilst sniffing my socks. What are yiu on?”

Jan didn’t answer right away. Instead, she flexed her toes against Amy’s crocs, the rubber yielding slightly under the pressure as one chipped-black toenail hooked under the strap. The anklets jingled softly, and Amy could feel the warmth radiating from Jan’s skin through the thin material of her tights. “You’re wearing tights,” Jan observed, voice dropping to a husky murmur. “With crocs. It’s *adorable*.”

Amy’s grip on the laundry basket tightened until the wicker creaked in protest. “It’s laundry day,” she muttered, as if that explained anything. Jan’s grin widened, and she leaned in just enough for the scent of her—patchouli, orange peel, and something unmistakably *Jan*—to flood Amy’s senses. The sock was still dangling from her fingers, brushing against Amy’s cheek as Jan came closer.

“Laundry day,” Jan repeated, slow and syrupy, her breath warm against Amy’s ear. “So that means...” Her toes curled under the strap of Amy’s croc, tugging gently. “All the *good* stuff’s in here.” The basket tipped over as Jan’s foot slipped under the strap of up Amy’s left crock, the toes tickling her tights-clad arch, the rough calluses catching on the sheer fabric with a whisper that made Amy’s breath hitch as she giggled.

The laundry scattered across the floor—panties tangled with gym clothes, mismatched socks, a stray bra strap looping around Jan’s ankle like a ribbon—and Jan let out a low moan that was half-laugh, half-something else entirely. She wiggled her toes deeper, the croc slipping off entirely now, her bare foot pressing flush against Amy’s nylon-covered heel. “Christ, you’re *warm*,” she murmured, eyes fluttering shut for a second before she grinned. “Like fresh bread.”

Amy’s protest died in her throat when Jan’s other foot joined the first, toes flexing against her arch with deliberate pressure. The coffee mug hit the counter with a thunk, forgotten, her hands suddenly gripping the edge to steady herself. “You’re ridiculous,” she breathed, but her hips tilted forward almost imperceptibly, pressing her weight into Jan’s touch.

“Uh-uh,” she tutted, pulling Amy’s foot up before she could retreat. The sudden movement sent Amy stumbling backward onto the kitchen island, her thighs parting instinctively as Jan knelt between them. The laundry basket tumbled to the floor with a clatter, spilling its contents across the tiles, but neither woman glanced at it.

Jan fell to jer knees, her boobs wobbling as she grasped Amy’s left foor in both hands, bringing it to her face and inhaling deeply, before sucking on the nylon covered toes.

Amy’s breath hitched as Jan’s tongue pressed hot and wet against her nylon-clad toes through the sheer fabric, the material growing damp with each hungry swipe. She tried to pull away, but Jan’s grip tightened, fingers digging into her arch as she sucked two toes into her mouth with a lewd pop. “Fuck,” Amy whispered, her fingers twisting in the hem of her skirt. The coffee mug lay forgotten on its side, a dark puddle spreading across the countertop. “You cant do this Jan. Its wrong. Im a married wo..hoooo. Hoooh.” She gasped as a shiver ran up,her leg when thecolder woman rubbed her nylon covered footbon her own breast.

Jan chuckled, the vibration traveling through Amy’s sole as she raised hervfoot to her fac3cagain , inhaling deeply, her tongue darting out to trace the damp seam between toes. “Wrong?” she murmured against her skin, her free hand already yanking the silk belt from her discarded robe. “Baby, you’ve been teasing me with these feet for *years*.” In one fluid motion, she flipped Amy onto her stomach, her knee pressing between her shoulder blades as she wrestled her wrists together. The belt looped tight, the silk biting into Amy’s skin as Jan knotted it with practiced ease.

“What the fuck are you doing Jampphhnnggmmmmpppphh.”

The gag came next—a crumpled sock shoved between Amy’s teeth, the faint taste of detergent and *herself* flooding her mouth as Jan secured it with the other sock, tying it behind her head. Amy’s muffled protest turned into a shuddering moan as Jan’s fingers trailed down her spine, pushing her skirt up to bunch at her waist. The nylon stretched taut as Jan yanked her ankles together, securing them with the belt’s leftover length. “There,” Jan purred, her breath hot against Amy’s calf. “Now we can *really* play.”

Amy’s hips jerked involuntarily when Jan’s nose pressed into the arch of her bound feet, inhaling with a low, reverent groan. “God, you’re *dripping*,” Jan murmured, her tongue dragging a wet stripe along the sole, catching the sweat-slick nylon. The fabric clung tighter with every pass, turning translucent where Jan’s mouth worked hungrily. Amy’s toes curled, the stretch of the belt biting into her wrists, but the pain was distant—drowned out by the hot-cold thrill of Jan’s teeth grazing her heel.

“Mm, salty,” Jan moaned, sucking two toes into her mouth at once, her cheeks hollowing as she worked the nylon like candy. The sound was obscene—wet and rhythmic—and Amy’s muffled whine vibrated against the sock gag. Jan’s fingers dug into her ankle, holding her steady as she switched feet, her tongue probing between each toe with agonizing precision. “That’s it, baby,” she cooed against the damp fabric, her free hand sliding up Amy’s calf to knead the tense muscle there. “Bet you’ve been sweating in these all morning. Nylon in rubber, and hot feet.”

“Mmnnggpph. Mmeennggmmpp.”

Amy’s protests vibrated against the sock gag, but the heat pooling between her thighs betrayed her. Jan’s tongue dragged another wet stripe along the arch of her bound foot, the nylon clinging tighter with each pass, translucent now from spit and sweat. The older woman hummed approvingly, pausing to press her nose deep into the damp fabric between Amy’s toes and inhaling with a shudder. “Christ, you’re *marinated* in here,” she groaned, lips brushing the straining material as she spoke. “All that heat trapped in rubber... festering...” Her teeth caught the nylon, tugging it taut against Amy’s skin before releasing it with a snap that sent a jolt up Amy’s spine. “Your scent is divine. How can you hide these babies from me?”

The coffee mug lay on the counter, its contents dripping onto Amy below as she arched against her bonds, her muffled moans harmonizing with the wet sounds of Jan’s mouth working over her feet. Jan hooked a finger under the waistband of Amy’s tights, peeling them down just enough to expose the flushed skin of her buttocks before burying her face again in her soles with a noise that was half-growl, half-prayer. “There’s my *girl*,” she murmured, her tongue skating up the achilles tendon to lick a long, slow stripe up hervcalf to behind Amy’s knee. Amy’s thighs trembled, her toes curling reflexively as Jan’s breath hitched. “Oh, you like that, don’t you?”

Much as Amy wanted to scream, to tell Jan to,leave her alone, that she was married, a mother, and certainly not a lesbian, her body betrayed her.

Jan’s lips traced the outline of Amy’s toes through the damp nylon, her tongue swirling in slow, deliberate circles that sent shivers up Amy’s spine. The silk belt dug into her wrists and ankles, the slight burn only heightening the sensation of Jan’s mouth moving lower, sucking at the arch with a hunger that made Amy’s stomach tighten. Her muffled protests dissolved into a ragged moan as Jan’s fingers slipped beneath the waistband of her tights, peeling them down now enough to expose the sweat-slick skin of her thighs beneath. “There we go,” Jan murmured against her ankle, her breath hot and uneven. “Let me *taste* you properly.”

The nylon stretched taut against Amy’s calves before Jan’s teeth finally caught the fabric, tearing a jagged seam down the center with a sharp *rrrip* that sent Amy arching off the floor. The cool air hit her exposed skin, but Jan’s mouth chased the sensation away, her tongue dragging up the back of Amy’s thigh as she discarded the ruined tights with a flick of her wrist. Amy twisted against her bonds, her fingers straining—not to push Jan away, but to reach for the naked skin of Jan’s body, robe discarded,still hanging off the chairback. Her toes brushed against a bare breast, then her blunt finger nails scraped against the older woman’s nipple, pinching the tender bud, before Jan’s free hand pinned her wrist back against her buttocks with a throaty chuckle. “Uh-uh, greedy,” she teased, her lips brushing Amy’s knee as she shifted lower. “You’ll get your turn.”

A whimper escaped Amy’s gag when Jan’s tongue finally found the soft, untouched skin behind her knee—laving slow, wet circles that made her thighs quiver. The scent of arousal mingled with the lingering musk of detergent and sweat, and Jan groaned against her skin, her fingers digging into Amy’s hips as she dragged her closer. “Fuck, you’re *dripping* down here too,” she muttered, her breath hot against the sensitive crease where thigh met calf. One hand slid up, slipping beneath Amy’s skirt to cup the damp fabric between her legs, pressing firmly just to hear Amy’s gasp vibrate against the sock. “Bet your panties are *soaked*.”

Jan didn’t bother peeling them off gently. The elastic snapped against Amy’s thighs as she yanked them down to her knees in one swift motion, the damp fabric sticking briefly before surrendering to gravity. The sudden cool air against her exposed skin made Amy jerk, but Jan was already burying her face between her thighs, nose pressing into wiry curls as she inhaled with a shudder. “Oh my *god*,” Jan moaned, her tongue darting out to lick a hot stripe from perineum to clit in one filthy, unbroken motion. “You taste even better than your *feet*.”

[LunaDog]

Now THAT is a next door neighbour to die for!

[TightsBound]

Great story! You had me hooked within the first two sentences and didn’t slow down for a second. This was a hot one, the kind that requires taking a cold shower, doing my taxes, and talking to my mom on the phone. Thank you as always for your writing!

[hunt407]

More, more, more!!!