tbone
06-02-2003, 8:45 PM
First Trample Experience.
-for Stryder
I've had a few spontaneous trample experiences, some I could have avoided if I had been more "careful." I was just discovering this fetish and, other than a few neighborhood experiences when I was growing up, this was the first real spontaneous one I remember
This one involved a situation when I was a junior in high school. Others happened during this train trip, but I’ll stay focused on this one for now.
I need to preface this account by saying that I was quite aware of my foot and trample fetish by now and beginning to explore it and try to figure out what in the world it was.
I'm not sure why we remember some occurrences years later in so much detail, but I guess this was pretty intense. I even remember sounds, sights and scents. But that afternoon in Dallas was the first real experience like this that I remember.
I went to a large high school near Pittsburgh. We had a large band of about 125 musicians and a drill team of about 50 girls. We were invited to participate in the Cotton Bowl parade in Dallas that year and, of course, to see the game.
After the parade, we went into the stadium to our place to see the game and sat where we wanted in that section. A few of the drill team members sat behind me in the row above. As the pre-game was beginning, I leaned back and put my hands on the floor of the row behind to support me.
The uniform for the drill team was fairly traditional, the overlay top, short pleated wool skirt and white flat-heeled leather boots and nude pantyhose.
The girl behind me, Nikki, was mostly Thai, about 5"10" (my height) medium build, about 140 pounds, long straight jet-black hair down to her lower back and a real sunny disposition. We knew each other casually but that's it; she wasn't at all "stuck up" but quite "out of my league" if you remember that sort of thing as a teenager. If I had more self-confidence then - well who knows?
I guess Nikki didn't realize that my hands were on the floor between her boots and, when she leaned back to get something from someone behind her, she picked her feet up and put the toes of her boots back down squarely on my hands.
She didn't realize it right away and I was in shock. It didn't hurt but the reaction I got emotionally kind of surprised me. I had enough presence of mind to not say anything for a few moments. Almost immediately, Nikki put more weight on her toes as she pushed down to lean back a little to say something to a friend behind her. When she turned back around she twisted her feet slightly. I felt a light crunch in my knuckles and she realized that her feet were on something. She looked down at the same time as I looked back.
Nikki quickly lifted her boots off my hands and said, "I'm so sorry Tom, I hope I didn’t I hurt you.”
I assured her that she didn't and still to this day can't believe what I said next. I told her (completely true) that I've had slight arthritis in my joints including my fingers since I was younger and the pressure as she pushed down on my hands actually helped. The inherited condition is true but I don't know where the rest came from.
I guess we made some kind of connection here because Nikki just giggled and just said, "Well, if it helps, put your hands back down there and I'll do what I can. My feet in these boots are really tired and maybe you could help me if you could rub them a little later."
The words almost stuck in my throat as I immediately said, "No problem, Nikki; whatever you'd like."
With that, I put my hands back down behind me and she gently placed her boots back on my hands. She pushed down a little, twisted slightly and asked if I was ok. "Never better," I replied. "Thanks a lot."
"No problem," she said and we went on watching the game, which was about to start.
I remember hearing one of her friends sitting with her (who I did not know well) immediately asking her how she managed to get a promise for a foot rub from a cute guy just like that? I didn't hear her reply.
Now Nikki was not a real excitable person. As we went through the first two quarters, she would occasionally push down a bit as she reacted to the game or something someone said. Sometimes she'd remember I was there and give me a push or a little twist. I'd look back and she'd give me this big smile that would just melt my heart.
Even though they were hard soled, I felt little discomfort under Nikki's boots. When she'd twist, I feel a little crunching as the small bones and tendons would roll under her feet. Need I say, I didn't remember a lot of the small stuff during those two quarters. But her feet seemed to be getting a little heavier.
With about 5 minutes left in the half, a snap was fumbled and an SMU back took off with it. He was clear for about 25 yards and everyone jumped to his feet, Nikki included!
She was still on my hands and I sure knew it. My mind started racing, watching what was happening down on the field and dealing with the moderate pain as my hands were squashed under the smooth, hard soles of Nikki's boots.
Forgetting for a moment that I was there she bounced pretty hard twice before she remembered. Wow! She immediately stepped off my hands, bent down, and hugged me telling me she was so sorry; she knew she had to have hurt my hands that time.
I told her honestly that it hurt a little but no damage. Even a little benefit because she "popped" the joints in my knuckles and wrists. I usually can't do that by myself. "So thanks."
She just got this slight winsome grimace on her beautiful oriental face and replied, "You're quite welcome...I think."
She sat back down reached down, grasped my hands and rubbed them a little with her slender long fingers and said, "They seem to be ok." I assured her that they were never better.
Then she said, "My feet are kind of tired and a little hot in these boots, could you rub them a little?" and put her legs out and down on either side of me.
As I slid her boots off, I remember the sound of the soft leather against her pantyhose was almost mesmerizing. And her sigh as her feet came out of her boots was quite gratifying. I put one boot down on either side of me and asked if I could take her socks off. She just said, “Please.”
As I did that, the soft, warm scent and sight of her long, slender stockinged feet with perfectly painted light red nails beside me became really distracting. And I was also aware as I looked back that her friends were watching with quite a bit of interest.
To this day I kick my self for not recognizing the opportunity here, but then I was a 17-year-old kid in heaven. Oh well, back to Nikki.
As I gently but firmly massaged each foot from her heels, to her arches and the balls of her feet to her toes, pulling the end of her pantyhose so she could wiggle her toes free, Nikki just sat back with her big brown eyes closed and this indescribable smile of peaceful enjoyment on her face.
I continued for about 30 minutes, through the half time show and into the third quarter. Finally she pulled her legs up, putting her feet up on my lower back and pushing a little alternately with each foot and said, “Tom, that was awesome; thanks so much. I feel so refreshed, like I didn’t just march in a 3-mile parade.” I told her that the pleasure was also mine. (Of course I didn’t tell her half of what I was thinking and feeling at that point. But she surely must have figured by now that I really didn’t mind her feet at all.)
Then she said if you want me to put some more pressure on your hands, I could do that with my boots off; your hands would keep my feet warm enough. So I put her socks down on the floor and my hands on them. Then she put her stockinged feet down on my hands for the next hour or so to the end of the game, pushing and twisting on them and even occasionally standing on them. (still had to reassure her on that.)
I finally convinced her to occasionally rise up on the balls of her feet, putting her whole weight on my hands and gently twisting back and forth. What a delightful feeling as my hands lightly crunched under her soft stockinged feet. All I remember of that game is a few crucial plays and the score and numerous sensations of Nikki’s boots and stockinged feet.
-for Stryder
I've had a few spontaneous trample experiences, some I could have avoided if I had been more "careful." I was just discovering this fetish and, other than a few neighborhood experiences when I was growing up, this was the first real spontaneous one I remember
This one involved a situation when I was a junior in high school. Others happened during this train trip, but I’ll stay focused on this one for now.
I need to preface this account by saying that I was quite aware of my foot and trample fetish by now and beginning to explore it and try to figure out what in the world it was.
I'm not sure why we remember some occurrences years later in so much detail, but I guess this was pretty intense. I even remember sounds, sights and scents. But that afternoon in Dallas was the first real experience like this that I remember.
I went to a large high school near Pittsburgh. We had a large band of about 125 musicians and a drill team of about 50 girls. We were invited to participate in the Cotton Bowl parade in Dallas that year and, of course, to see the game.
After the parade, we went into the stadium to our place to see the game and sat where we wanted in that section. A few of the drill team members sat behind me in the row above. As the pre-game was beginning, I leaned back and put my hands on the floor of the row behind to support me.
The uniform for the drill team was fairly traditional, the overlay top, short pleated wool skirt and white flat-heeled leather boots and nude pantyhose.
The girl behind me, Nikki, was mostly Thai, about 5"10" (my height) medium build, about 140 pounds, long straight jet-black hair down to her lower back and a real sunny disposition. We knew each other casually but that's it; she wasn't at all "stuck up" but quite "out of my league" if you remember that sort of thing as a teenager. If I had more self-confidence then - well who knows?
I guess Nikki didn't realize that my hands were on the floor between her boots and, when she leaned back to get something from someone behind her, she picked her feet up and put the toes of her boots back down squarely on my hands.
She didn't realize it right away and I was in shock. It didn't hurt but the reaction I got emotionally kind of surprised me. I had enough presence of mind to not say anything for a few moments. Almost immediately, Nikki put more weight on her toes as she pushed down to lean back a little to say something to a friend behind her. When she turned back around she twisted her feet slightly. I felt a light crunch in my knuckles and she realized that her feet were on something. She looked down at the same time as I looked back.
Nikki quickly lifted her boots off my hands and said, "I'm so sorry Tom, I hope I didn’t I hurt you.”
I assured her that she didn't and still to this day can't believe what I said next. I told her (completely true) that I've had slight arthritis in my joints including my fingers since I was younger and the pressure as she pushed down on my hands actually helped. The inherited condition is true but I don't know where the rest came from.
I guess we made some kind of connection here because Nikki just giggled and just said, "Well, if it helps, put your hands back down there and I'll do what I can. My feet in these boots are really tired and maybe you could help me if you could rub them a little later."
The words almost stuck in my throat as I immediately said, "No problem, Nikki; whatever you'd like."
With that, I put my hands back down behind me and she gently placed her boots back on my hands. She pushed down a little, twisted slightly and asked if I was ok. "Never better," I replied. "Thanks a lot."
"No problem," she said and we went on watching the game, which was about to start.
I remember hearing one of her friends sitting with her (who I did not know well) immediately asking her how she managed to get a promise for a foot rub from a cute guy just like that? I didn't hear her reply.
Now Nikki was not a real excitable person. As we went through the first two quarters, she would occasionally push down a bit as she reacted to the game or something someone said. Sometimes she'd remember I was there and give me a push or a little twist. I'd look back and she'd give me this big smile that would just melt my heart.
Even though they were hard soled, I felt little discomfort under Nikki's boots. When she'd twist, I feel a little crunching as the small bones and tendons would roll under her feet. Need I say, I didn't remember a lot of the small stuff during those two quarters. But her feet seemed to be getting a little heavier.
With about 5 minutes left in the half, a snap was fumbled and an SMU back took off with it. He was clear for about 25 yards and everyone jumped to his feet, Nikki included!
She was still on my hands and I sure knew it. My mind started racing, watching what was happening down on the field and dealing with the moderate pain as my hands were squashed under the smooth, hard soles of Nikki's boots.
Forgetting for a moment that I was there she bounced pretty hard twice before she remembered. Wow! She immediately stepped off my hands, bent down, and hugged me telling me she was so sorry; she knew she had to have hurt my hands that time.
I told her honestly that it hurt a little but no damage. Even a little benefit because she "popped" the joints in my knuckles and wrists. I usually can't do that by myself. "So thanks."
She just got this slight winsome grimace on her beautiful oriental face and replied, "You're quite welcome...I think."
She sat back down reached down, grasped my hands and rubbed them a little with her slender long fingers and said, "They seem to be ok." I assured her that they were never better.
Then she said, "My feet are kind of tired and a little hot in these boots, could you rub them a little?" and put her legs out and down on either side of me.
As I slid her boots off, I remember the sound of the soft leather against her pantyhose was almost mesmerizing. And her sigh as her feet came out of her boots was quite gratifying. I put one boot down on either side of me and asked if I could take her socks off. She just said, “Please.”
As I did that, the soft, warm scent and sight of her long, slender stockinged feet with perfectly painted light red nails beside me became really distracting. And I was also aware as I looked back that her friends were watching with quite a bit of interest.
To this day I kick my self for not recognizing the opportunity here, but then I was a 17-year-old kid in heaven. Oh well, back to Nikki.
As I gently but firmly massaged each foot from her heels, to her arches and the balls of her feet to her toes, pulling the end of her pantyhose so she could wiggle her toes free, Nikki just sat back with her big brown eyes closed and this indescribable smile of peaceful enjoyment on her face.
I continued for about 30 minutes, through the half time show and into the third quarter. Finally she pulled her legs up, putting her feet up on my lower back and pushing a little alternately with each foot and said, “Tom, that was awesome; thanks so much. I feel so refreshed, like I didn’t just march in a 3-mile parade.” I told her that the pleasure was also mine. (Of course I didn’t tell her half of what I was thinking and feeling at that point. But she surely must have figured by now that I really didn’t mind her feet at all.)
Then she said if you want me to put some more pressure on your hands, I could do that with my boots off; your hands would keep my feet warm enough. So I put her socks down on the floor and my hands on them. Then she put her stockinged feet down on my hands for the next hour or so to the end of the game, pushing and twisting on them and even occasionally standing on them. (still had to reassure her on that.)
I finally convinced her to occasionally rise up on the balls of her feet, putting her whole weight on my hands and gently twisting back and forth. What a delightful feeling as my hands lightly crunched under her soft stockinged feet. All I remember of that game is a few crucial plays and the score and numerous sensations of Nikki’s boots and stockinged feet.