ffs052002
11-02-2010, 9:27 PM
I appreciate all of the comments – thanks.
Here is the continuation.
The smell from her foot was strong. I held my position for what felt like about 15 minutes so as to wait until she was engrossed in her work. Then I slowly turned my head to the left. This allowed my nose to escape her nylon toes and get some much needed fresh air. Unfortunately this freedom was short lived.
Samantha slowly slid her foot over my cheek until her toes were once again over my nose. As you could imagine, this was not a comfortable position for her. She then gripped my nose with her toes and turned my head so I was again facing up towards the ceiling breathing through her damp sweaty toes. I tried the same thing a little later with similar results; only her grip on my nose was even tighter. I got the message and did not try to move again.
As I lied there, Samantha would occasionally move her foot around. Surprisingly she seemed quite content that once she found a comfortable position she would leave her foot there for a long time. At one point she told me to move the bag to the other side of my head so she could change feet. I thought this was great as it hopefully meant she was at least half way done. As I moved the bag, it finally gave me a chance to look at my watch. I had been smelly her foot for 30 minutes.
She wasted no time settling in with her left foot on my face. Aside from telling me to move her bag, she had not spoken to me during this time. Then she asked a question about one of the clients we had met with. As I was about to answer, I expected her to remove her foot from my face. I really need some fresh air. Instead, she pressed her toes even harder over my nose and lifted the sole of her foot which was resting in my face to a level that was barely above my lips. As I answered her and spoke, my lips were rubbing the sole of her foot. I felt as though I was speaking to the bottom of her foot. Once my answer once complete, she pressed her foot back down on my face again. It was one thing to have a quick smell, it was another to have your face used as a footstool and be forced to smell those feet for a long period of time.
Finally she was finished. I heard the sound of her laptop close. I had been under her feet for so long, my mind had been wondering to other thoughts and I had almost forgotten where I was. I was looking forward to having her take her feet off my face. Talking to her foot that was resting on my face, I said “how are things going up there boss?”. She replied “good”. That was it. She did not say anything else and she was not moving her foot. I knew her laptop was off and we agreed that I would be her footstool until she was finished. Why was she not moving her foot? I had been under both feet for a long time. I needed some fresh air. Finally she moved her foot so I could get up.
I thanked her for doing the work and moved backed to the chair to sit. I waited to see if she was going to thank me for smelling her foot stench, but nothing. Instead she started talking about our plans for tomorrow. When we finished, she looked at me and said “why were you turning your head while you were smelling my feet?” Do I tell her it was because the smell of her feet was so bad? Of course not. I had to think fast. I replied “ the floor in here is quite hard, I was getting a headache so I tried to adjust the position of head”. “I understand”, she said. “Next time we will have something soft under your head so you can be comfortable. When you move your head like that, you are not smelling my properly”.
I could not believe what I had just heard. First she mentioned a next time. I was not planning for a next. Suffering under the smell of those feet for as long as I did, was good enough. Secondly, saying that I was not properly smelling her feet. I was not aware that there was a proper way for me to position myself as her footstool. I took the high road again and did not answer. We bother agreed to check in for the night and we went our separate ways to get some sleep.
In the morning, I did the same thing as the day before. I went down and got the coffees. Samantha’s door closed and she walked towards me. I turned to face her and found myself staring again. She was wearing brown leather boots with a brown leather skirt. However, this time she did not have any nylons on and was going bare foot inside those boots. To most people, they would not really think about this and up to yesterday, neither would have I. But for some reason all I could think about was how sweaty and stinky her feet would get in those boots all day.
After we finished our coffees, we headed off to work.
The second day went great as well. By the end, we had additional orders and growth of roughly 6.5%. This meant that our two day total was 15%. Samantha was very excited. As the day on the convention floor drew to a close. We were both exhausted again. She looked at me and no words were necessary. We both know it was time to get dinner and then get back to the suite for paper work, etc.
It was hot on the west coast this day and the restaurant we walked to was a little further away than the one the first day. Again we shared a bottle of red and some good conversation over our meal. At one point, Samantha looked at me and said “My feet are killing me in these boots. It is just like yesterday. Except today, because I am not wearing nylons, my feet feel like they are submerged in a pool of sweat inside my boots. They are very hot and I cannot wait to get back to the suite to relax like last night.
I just smiled but then I thought. Like last night – what did she mean by this? Her description of the current state of her feet made it clear to me that I did not want a repeat of last night. We finished dinner and walked back to hotel in the heat. We did stop at a store to pick up another bottle of red to drink in the suite.
When we entered the suite, I opened the bottle, poured a couple of glasses and set them on the table by the chairs. I tuned on the T.V. and then I did the same thing as the night before. I went to my room, dropped off my jacket, removed my tie and grabbed my computer. When I came out of the room, Samantha was seated in the same wingback chair. Her feet were up on the table again and they were still encased in those boots. I also noticed a pillow on the floor in front of her chair. I was about to pick it up, but left it sat in the chair opposite her. I reached for my computer bag and she interrupted me. “What are you doing” Samantha questioned. “ I am starting my computer to get to work. You did it last night so I figured it is my turn today” I replied. “Oh no you don’t. If I let you type we will be up all night and I want to go for a run early in the morning. I will enter the data.” She stated. I did not want to argue so I agreed. She said “but before I start, I could really use your help with these boots”. I did not want to take off these boots as I knew what waited inside each of them. However, rather than object, I again slid forward and she moved only her right foot to the floor. I slowly undid the zipper and prepared myself for the smell that was to come. Samantha never took her eyes off of me. The boot slid off her foot with relative ease as it was soaked with sweat. Again she slid her foot across my palm coating it with her sweat in the process. As I went to get up she asked “where are you going”. I said “ I am going to sit down”. She just laughed and said “ very funny. I placed the pillow on the floor so your head would not get sore tonight. Now slide yourself in to position, I want to get our work done so we can get some rest.
I could not believe what I had just heard. She was casually speaking as though it was expected that I would let her use my face as a footstool for those smelly feet. She looked at me and said “ Go on, we are both tired and do not want to be up all night”. I put my head down and did what was expected. She moved her left foot beside my head. With her boot on and the high pointed heel, her leg was in the right position to be able to type.
As I was getting in to position, I could not hep but notice her foot. Her toes were painted a crimson red and they were perfect in length. Her feet looked smooth and well cared for. I thought, oh well it could be worse I guess.
Once I was in a comfortable position using the pillow. She leaned forward and looked at me to make sure I was okay. Then never breaking eye contact, she raised her foot above me and slowly lowered towards my face. I could see the sweat glistening from the bottom of her foot as it approached my face. Then it made contact.
Her feet may have felt damp the nigh before but this was a whole other level. She opened her toes and placed them over my nose and I started to breathe. It was unbearable but I new I had to endure – besides once she was done with our work, she would take them off.
She did not just rest her foot on my face. She made a point of sliding it all around and then she got comfortable. At one point, she had a question. This time as I spoke to her foot, I could feel the sweat on my lips as they moved across her sole. I did my best to stay focused but it was not easy. Then she lifted her foot and told me to open my mouth. I did and she took her big toe and started rubbing it across my lower teeth. “My toe is itchy. I hope you don’t mind” she giggled. I did not say a word. The problem was that as she was using my teeth to scratch her toe, her toe was also sliding across my tongue. Now, not only did I have to smell her feet, but my taste buds were being assaulted with the taste of her foot sweat. When she had finished scratching she simply said “close”. And I did. With my mouth closed, the salty taste from her foot intensified.
The process was similar with her left foot. And oddly enough, her big toe on that foot had an itch as well. Finally she was finished. I could hear her shutting down the laptop. I would finally be able get from under this prison. She leaned forward, looked down in to my eyes and asked “how are you doing”. “Okay”, I answered. I noticed her lean forward and grab her glass of wine. She then sat back but did not remove her feet. Samantha was now sipping her wine and watching TV while I suffered under her feet. I am guessing it took her about 15 minutes to finish the glass. She placed it on the table and grabbed her boots. She then finally lifted her feet from my face. “Good night. Great work again today” She said as she stood up and walked away leaving me in my position. I stayed there for moment thinking about what had just happened. Slowly I got up and made my way to my bedroom so I could get some sleep and try to forget about smelling her feet.
Next part soon.
Here is the continuation.
The smell from her foot was strong. I held my position for what felt like about 15 minutes so as to wait until she was engrossed in her work. Then I slowly turned my head to the left. This allowed my nose to escape her nylon toes and get some much needed fresh air. Unfortunately this freedom was short lived.
Samantha slowly slid her foot over my cheek until her toes were once again over my nose. As you could imagine, this was not a comfortable position for her. She then gripped my nose with her toes and turned my head so I was again facing up towards the ceiling breathing through her damp sweaty toes. I tried the same thing a little later with similar results; only her grip on my nose was even tighter. I got the message and did not try to move again.
As I lied there, Samantha would occasionally move her foot around. Surprisingly she seemed quite content that once she found a comfortable position she would leave her foot there for a long time. At one point she told me to move the bag to the other side of my head so she could change feet. I thought this was great as it hopefully meant she was at least half way done. As I moved the bag, it finally gave me a chance to look at my watch. I had been smelly her foot for 30 minutes.
She wasted no time settling in with her left foot on my face. Aside from telling me to move her bag, she had not spoken to me during this time. Then she asked a question about one of the clients we had met with. As I was about to answer, I expected her to remove her foot from my face. I really need some fresh air. Instead, she pressed her toes even harder over my nose and lifted the sole of her foot which was resting in my face to a level that was barely above my lips. As I answered her and spoke, my lips were rubbing the sole of her foot. I felt as though I was speaking to the bottom of her foot. Once my answer once complete, she pressed her foot back down on my face again. It was one thing to have a quick smell, it was another to have your face used as a footstool and be forced to smell those feet for a long period of time.
Finally she was finished. I heard the sound of her laptop close. I had been under her feet for so long, my mind had been wondering to other thoughts and I had almost forgotten where I was. I was looking forward to having her take her feet off my face. Talking to her foot that was resting on my face, I said “how are things going up there boss?”. She replied “good”. That was it. She did not say anything else and she was not moving her foot. I knew her laptop was off and we agreed that I would be her footstool until she was finished. Why was she not moving her foot? I had been under both feet for a long time. I needed some fresh air. Finally she moved her foot so I could get up.
I thanked her for doing the work and moved backed to the chair to sit. I waited to see if she was going to thank me for smelling her foot stench, but nothing. Instead she started talking about our plans for tomorrow. When we finished, she looked at me and said “why were you turning your head while you were smelling my feet?” Do I tell her it was because the smell of her feet was so bad? Of course not. I had to think fast. I replied “ the floor in here is quite hard, I was getting a headache so I tried to adjust the position of head”. “I understand”, she said. “Next time we will have something soft under your head so you can be comfortable. When you move your head like that, you are not smelling my properly”.
I could not believe what I had just heard. First she mentioned a next time. I was not planning for a next. Suffering under the smell of those feet for as long as I did, was good enough. Secondly, saying that I was not properly smelling her feet. I was not aware that there was a proper way for me to position myself as her footstool. I took the high road again and did not answer. We bother agreed to check in for the night and we went our separate ways to get some sleep.
In the morning, I did the same thing as the day before. I went down and got the coffees. Samantha’s door closed and she walked towards me. I turned to face her and found myself staring again. She was wearing brown leather boots with a brown leather skirt. However, this time she did not have any nylons on and was going bare foot inside those boots. To most people, they would not really think about this and up to yesterday, neither would have I. But for some reason all I could think about was how sweaty and stinky her feet would get in those boots all day.
After we finished our coffees, we headed off to work.
The second day went great as well. By the end, we had additional orders and growth of roughly 6.5%. This meant that our two day total was 15%. Samantha was very excited. As the day on the convention floor drew to a close. We were both exhausted again. She looked at me and no words were necessary. We both know it was time to get dinner and then get back to the suite for paper work, etc.
It was hot on the west coast this day and the restaurant we walked to was a little further away than the one the first day. Again we shared a bottle of red and some good conversation over our meal. At one point, Samantha looked at me and said “My feet are killing me in these boots. It is just like yesterday. Except today, because I am not wearing nylons, my feet feel like they are submerged in a pool of sweat inside my boots. They are very hot and I cannot wait to get back to the suite to relax like last night.
I just smiled but then I thought. Like last night – what did she mean by this? Her description of the current state of her feet made it clear to me that I did not want a repeat of last night. We finished dinner and walked back to hotel in the heat. We did stop at a store to pick up another bottle of red to drink in the suite.
When we entered the suite, I opened the bottle, poured a couple of glasses and set them on the table by the chairs. I tuned on the T.V. and then I did the same thing as the night before. I went to my room, dropped off my jacket, removed my tie and grabbed my computer. When I came out of the room, Samantha was seated in the same wingback chair. Her feet were up on the table again and they were still encased in those boots. I also noticed a pillow on the floor in front of her chair. I was about to pick it up, but left it sat in the chair opposite her. I reached for my computer bag and she interrupted me. “What are you doing” Samantha questioned. “ I am starting my computer to get to work. You did it last night so I figured it is my turn today” I replied. “Oh no you don’t. If I let you type we will be up all night and I want to go for a run early in the morning. I will enter the data.” She stated. I did not want to argue so I agreed. She said “but before I start, I could really use your help with these boots”. I did not want to take off these boots as I knew what waited inside each of them. However, rather than object, I again slid forward and she moved only her right foot to the floor. I slowly undid the zipper and prepared myself for the smell that was to come. Samantha never took her eyes off of me. The boot slid off her foot with relative ease as it was soaked with sweat. Again she slid her foot across my palm coating it with her sweat in the process. As I went to get up she asked “where are you going”. I said “ I am going to sit down”. She just laughed and said “ very funny. I placed the pillow on the floor so your head would not get sore tonight. Now slide yourself in to position, I want to get our work done so we can get some rest.
I could not believe what I had just heard. She was casually speaking as though it was expected that I would let her use my face as a footstool for those smelly feet. She looked at me and said “ Go on, we are both tired and do not want to be up all night”. I put my head down and did what was expected. She moved her left foot beside my head. With her boot on and the high pointed heel, her leg was in the right position to be able to type.
As I was getting in to position, I could not hep but notice her foot. Her toes were painted a crimson red and they were perfect in length. Her feet looked smooth and well cared for. I thought, oh well it could be worse I guess.
Once I was in a comfortable position using the pillow. She leaned forward and looked at me to make sure I was okay. Then never breaking eye contact, she raised her foot above me and slowly lowered towards my face. I could see the sweat glistening from the bottom of her foot as it approached my face. Then it made contact.
Her feet may have felt damp the nigh before but this was a whole other level. She opened her toes and placed them over my nose and I started to breathe. It was unbearable but I new I had to endure – besides once she was done with our work, she would take them off.
She did not just rest her foot on my face. She made a point of sliding it all around and then she got comfortable. At one point, she had a question. This time as I spoke to her foot, I could feel the sweat on my lips as they moved across her sole. I did my best to stay focused but it was not easy. Then she lifted her foot and told me to open my mouth. I did and she took her big toe and started rubbing it across my lower teeth. “My toe is itchy. I hope you don’t mind” she giggled. I did not say a word. The problem was that as she was using my teeth to scratch her toe, her toe was also sliding across my tongue. Now, not only did I have to smell her feet, but my taste buds were being assaulted with the taste of her foot sweat. When she had finished scratching she simply said “close”. And I did. With my mouth closed, the salty taste from her foot intensified.
The process was similar with her left foot. And oddly enough, her big toe on that foot had an itch as well. Finally she was finished. I could hear her shutting down the laptop. I would finally be able get from under this prison. She leaned forward, looked down in to my eyes and asked “how are you doing”. “Okay”, I answered. I noticed her lean forward and grab her glass of wine. She then sat back but did not remove her feet. Samantha was now sipping her wine and watching TV while I suffered under her feet. I am guessing it took her about 15 minutes to finish the glass. She placed it on the table and grabbed her boots. She then finally lifted her feet from my face. “Good night. Great work again today” She said as she stood up and walked away leaving me in my position. I stayed there for moment thinking about what had just happened. Slowly I got up and made my way to my bedroom so I could get some sleep and try to forget about smelling her feet.
Next part soon.