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Subject: {Nasakcuf}JDR"Unexpected Rewards A"( MFF feet exhib )[1/2]
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JOHN DARK REPOST
The following story is posted for the entertainment of adults. If you are
below the age of eighteen or are otherwise forbidden to read electronic
erotic fiction in your locality, please delete this message now. The story
codes in the subject line are intended to inform readers of possible areas
that some might find distasteful, but neither the poster nor the author
make any guarantee. You should be aware that the story might raise other
matters that you find distasteful. Caveat lector; you read at your own
risk.
The enjoyment of these reposts can be increased by reading the "Coming
Attractions," which includes some of the thinking behind the pattern of the
reposts, as well as the titles to be reposted in the next week.
These stories have not been written by the person posting them. Many of
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itself. Posting the comment with a Cc: to the author would be the best way
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=====================
Notice: This story, entitled "Unexpected Rewards" is
protected under US copyright laws. As such, all rights
under such laws are reserved to the author. This
document may be freely distributed and exhibited, so
long as it is not sold or otherwise garner a material
profit for any distributor or recipient without the
express, written permission of the actual author.
(c) 1996 D. Nasakcuf
=====================
Unexpected Rewards
D. Nasakcuf
Section A
My name is Kyle. This is obviously not my real name, but it'll do in
the way of an introduction. I'm in my late twenties (20ish, 20something,
etc.), have a BS in Chemistry, and do something very unchemistry-like for a
living. What I am about to relate happened to me during one of the so-
called "General Education" (affectionately referred to as "GE classes")
classes that us poor chemistry saps are required to take.
This particular class was a "Human Resources" class that goes my many
different names (some of them even clean) in a student's vocabulary; the
class schedule simply called it MHR 318. Essentially a mix of psychology
and sociology, this class attempted to explain to us how and why people
behave as they do in groups. From the first day on, I knew I was going to
enjoy the class. Not because of the subject matter, mind you, but rather
due to all of the GORGEOUS females in this class. Now, I may be many
things (some of them even productive things), but one of the things I'm not
is handsome. As proof, I think that my lack of dating experience speaks
for itself. I therefore was under NO illusion that I was going to get
anywhere with anybody (especially not with this crowd), but as I think most
guys will agree, looking is a good part of the fun. So I looked. And
looked. And the quarter wore on.
Sporadically throughout the quarter, we had so- called "group
activities." These events essentially became BS sessions for most of us;
most of the work took place in the last 5 minutes of a 1 hour activity.
Although I thought I might seize upon various opportunities (I was usually
the only guy in the group), I never really said anything to anybody: all
these years of being single and not mingling with the female crowd have
made me somewhat shy. So I essentially did some more looking. And some
more. And then one fine day, fate came over and broke its' fickle finger
pointing out a path for me to change my actions from looking to doing.
In many classes of this "General Education" nature, there frequently
are quarter-ending projects that are assigned that may be worth up to 60%
of your grade; screw this up and you're toast. This class was no
exception. There were three of us in the group: myself, and two females,
whom I shall refer to as Jenny and Lisa (not their real names, of course).
Lisa was a VERY cute, tan, 5'9" brunette. Of medium build, I found out
later that she works out daily at the school gym (me, I'm just your
standard couch potato, and a skinny one at that), where she jogs and swims.
I suspected something along those lines from the outset, because she had
very muscular legs. But subtly so. If she wasn't doing anything, all you
saw was a very shapely, tan set of legs. But when she flexed her leg
muscles, you could tell there was some power there.
Perhaps I should digress for a moment, and point out that, although I
am all for a nice face, shapely body/legs, etc., there is one feature of a
woman that I find overridingly attractive, her feet. Not just any set,
mind you: there is a certain proportion of width to length that I find
especially appealing, usually more wide than long. Lisa had what I would
call a "perfect" set. I would estimate that she wore a size 8 wide; I
couldn't even begin to guess what the proportion was. On the day we formed
the group, she was wearing a short, black skirt that revealing her supple
legs, and so-called dollhouse shoes with white, fuzzy sports socks. This
last point is important, as white, fuzzy socks are all part and parcel of
my fetish. From the moment I laid eyes on her, I fell in love (or is that
lust, I can't really tell...?). But I digress too far...
Jenny on the other hand, was a dirty-blond beauty with shoulder-length
hair and a nice face. She was wearing Jeans that day, so I couldn't really
tell what her legs were like; her gleaming new Nikes told me she was about
a size 6, also wide. Lisa's feet were unparalleled by this, but Jenny had
the edge in another respect: She was bustier than Lisa, I'd say three times
so. Both seemed very gregarious, and, although I was quite nervous at
first, I eventually learned to relax.
Our assignment was to do a report on diversity in the workplace. We
chose a large pharmaceutical giant and agreed to meet in the library to
begin our research. I soon discovered that neither Lisa nor Jenny had many
research skills; both were music majors and had somehow avoided taking
classes requiring that skill, until now. As a result, our meetings in the
library were usually quite brief; I found that both of them agreed with
virtually everything I said, and we were in and out in usually under 5
minutes.
As the quarter began to draw to a close, I came to the stark
realization that we had yet to put pen to paper. I had spent some time in
the library doing research for the MHR report and therefore had plenty of
material, but it was all disjointed, and it would take time to assimilate
it all into a reasonable report. Neither Lisa nor Jenny (bless their
souls) would be of any genuine help; they were eager but not really in a
position to assist, as I had essentially done all of the research.
External pressure was also building: This was the quarter I was taking
Physical Chemistry, and all of my procrastinated laboratory formals were
coming due. It looked like an all-nighter was fast approaching.
You can always tell when someone has pulled an all nighter: These
disheveled, bleary-eyed denizens of the night are not a pretty site. Don't
feel too good, either. By 5 o'clock, the umteenth cup of coffee just
consumed, one begins to realize that the caffeine is no longer working and
begins to feel like a zombie somnambulist (sleep walker). The stomach gets
upset, and there are, of, course, those occasional fits of nervousness that
make you want to race around the campus 6.02 x 1023 times. Actual
"learning" is generally out; you go to class because it's the right thing
to do, and because a desk is more comfortable to sleep in than a chair,
something I fallen out of on more than one occasion. Be all that as it
may, the dreaded day approached much faster than I would have liked, and I
steeled myself for what lay ahead. Gathering books, reference material,
and computer disks, I sped off to the all-night computer lab under the
library. It was 9 o'clock in the evening, and the lab had already begun to
fill up with other poor saps with whom I would be sharing my plight.
There is an old saying that goes something like this: "Things that can
be done at anytime will be done at notime until time has run out." Since
what I just wrote makes no real sense, I'm sure that's NOT how the saying
goes, but the gist of it all is that I could have done my reports at any
time, but reserved specifically now (when I have no time), to do them.
People who practice moderated, scheduled study habits don't have this
problem, but what do those sleeping, decaffeinated idiots know, anyway?
Somehow, the "all- nighter" was a college institution in and unto itself,
and somehow things would not have been nearly as fun without them. (More
learning would have taken place in their stead, and we all know how painful
THAT can be, hah!)
By 2am, I'd finished the lab reports. I'd had the foresight to start
on them earlier in the day, and they weren't the abominable snowmen I'd
expected them to be. I now had a decision to make: Do I also do the MHR
report? Under the circumstances, I could have waited until the weekend to
do it (it was Wednesday), as the report wasn't due until the following
Monday, a whole twelve days away. But, the report was worth 60% of the
total grade for the class, and I needed time to edit and beef up my report
with punctuation, verbs, and other entities that I felt would enhance my
(sorry, our) grade. Aside from my turning the lab reports in, nothing
special was happening the next day, so my being "out of it" bore no special
penalty other than the contempt of my professors. Yeah, right. Like THEY
never pulled an all-nighter when they went to school...
By 5am, I'd finished a rough (very rough, it could've been used to
whittle diamond) draft that I felt contained all of the facts the professor
wanted, distilled and condensed for her edification. (Did I mention she
had nice feet, too? Married, though, so perish the thought). Elated, I
printed out the report and booted up Microprose's Civilization (I do that a
lot; my strategy is to beeline for chemistry). That was a mistake. I was
killed by the Romans at precisely 6am. I guess when they said "Prepare for
War," they meant it. Those murdering bastards. Oh, well. Off to
breakfast.
After a rather uneventful day, it was time for the MHR class to meet
again. At that time, something happened that hadn't happened since the
time I cut class for 4 weeks only to discover that the exam had been moved
and I had therefore missed it (who needs exams, anyway? The real world
doesn't take tests...). The teacher announced that we would not only be
turning in a written report, but would also be presenting our topic ORALLY.
Oh shit! For a moment, my catatonic mind had forgotten that I had worked on
the report that evening, and I therefore began to experience the so called
"time panic" when you realize you have too much to do and no time to do it
in. But something suddenly clicked in my mind, and I began to realize that
I was in good shape after all. I began to remember the report...the MHR
report....2am to 5am...that was right before those fucking Romans...*click*
Oh yeeeeahhh! I began to relax. No problem. We're relatively almost done
(relative to what? Haven't a clue, but it sounds good in this sentence).
Obviously pleased with myself, I became laconically confident. Oral, eh?
Why, I'll just unzip right here and....nah, better not do that.
Over the course of the next twelve days, I hammered the report into
its final form. The speech we had to give was supposed to be about five
minutes, and, with the information we had coupled with my skills as a BS
artist, this would not be a problem. It was decided that I would give the
oral presentation (surprise!) when the time came, and when it did, things
couldn't have gone smoother. Ultimately, we got an "A" on the written
report and an "A" on the oral component. Cool deal.
I have to point out that I had not really intended for things to work
out the way they did. Originally, we all were supposed to work on pieces
of the report; this was, after all, a class on group behavior. However, it
was simply more expedient for one person to do the work, especially
considering our backgrounds. I therefore wasn't sure how to interpret the
look Lisa gave me as I took my seat following the presentation. It seemed
seductive somehow, but uncomfortably so. Her dark-brown eyes met mine for
one very intense moment where I felt she could peer all the way down into
my very soul. I instinctively looked away, but just for a moment, I
thought a saw a smile.
After class, we agreed to meet that Saturday one last time, ostensibly
to "wrap up loose ends." I showed up early and simply went to the computer
lab and tried to get another game of CIV off the ground. At the anointed
hour, both Lisa and Jenny showed up, and, much to my surprise, invited me
to lunch. That had never happened to me before: Girls don't invite me to
anything, let alone ones of the caliber of Lisa and Jenny. When I lamely
inquired as to why, Jenny indicated that they simply wanted to say thanks
for what I did. Amazingly, I continued to protest (where's divine
intervention when you need it? Someone should have shut me up already!),
but neither of them would have any of it. So I finally relented. The
restaurant they took me to was a local one that I'd never gone to before,
not exactly Wolfgang Pucks' but not McDonalds, either. As we took our
seats, Lisa made a verbal point to sit directly across from me. Only later
did I understand the significance of that.
At first, the "meeting" proceeded uneventfully. We ordered our food
and engaged in the usual chitchat about college life and classes. The food
was good, and I felt quite relaxed after eating and chatted amicably. I
remember that Lisa was talking about the MHR class when I suddenly felt a
strong pressure on my left foot. Instinctively, I moved my foot, only to
discover that the pressure followed it. I also noticed that Lisa now
seemed to be fixated on me; she never interrupted her discussion, her gaze
fixed in my direction. Pretending to not be affected by the goings-on, I
leaned back in my chair so that I could sneak a peek under the table to see
what was up.
Well when I did that, it could safely be said that two things were up.
The first was Lisa (eventwise), who had apparently taken her shoes off and
was now stepping on my left foot. The second was my cock (literally),
which immediately reacted to the unfolding scene below by becoming
uncomfortably stiff. As Lisa noticed what I was doing, she began to rub my
foot with hers by dragging the balls of her feet across the top of my foot,
and back again. When she got to my toes, she applied extra pressure, not
so much that it hurt, but enough to make a difference. I straightened
myself out and met Lisa's gaze, which never wavered from its fixation on
me.
"So what did you think of the class, Kyle?" she suddenly asked. The
question caught me unprepared, as I was only pretending to be engaged in
the conversation; the unexpected extra-curricular activities having usurped
100% of my attention. "Uh, what?" Her face seemed to harden, but in a
very sensuous way. "I said," she continued, looking me straight in the
eye, "what did you think of the class?" I suddenly felt the pressure on
my foot shift. It moved to the inside of my leg, and began to ever so
slowly creep its way up the inside of my leg.
One of the disadvantages of being inexperienced sexually is that even
the slightest sexual implication yields a huge bodily response. The fact
that I have a foot fetish didn't help this situation either, it only served
to heighten my reaction to it. As her foot moved up my leg towards its
intended target, I felt my cock stiffened to the point where I felt as if I
could have deflected bullets with it. I finally found the words (and
spittle to help me form them) to answer her original query: "Uh, it was
alright," I said, nodding. It was all I could muster. Between the desert I
had for a mouth and that odd, queasy kind of good-feeling that was welling
up in my stomach, I lacked the focus to formulate anything but the simplest
of thoughts and sentences.
By now Lisa had reached the edge of the chair I was sitting in. Still
she continued onward, until that one glorious moment occurred when I felt
that pressure between my legs, directly and precisely placed where it was
needed most. I suddenly noticed that during this entire time, I had been
holding my breath in anticipation of this auspicious moment. Now that it
had finally arrived, my breath just kind of squeaked out in a slow,
wheezing kind of way. As I looked down, I saw that my crotch tightly
cradled her wide left foot. Her toes were draped over my cock's head, and
the balls of her feet were firmly placed at the point where the head meets
the shaft, with the rest of her foot running down its length. The feeling
of sexual pleasure, although most pronounced near the tip, was absolutely
and irresistibly pervasive.
During this entire glorious affair, I had apparently begun slouching
further and further down in my chair; by now, it seemed as if I'd form a
sideways letter "L." It was therefore a mad scramble to straighten back
out as the waiter returned. As he approached, I noticed Lisa slouch down
in her own chair, her eyes still transfixed directly at me. Suddenly, the
pleasant sensation between my legs.....spiked. One minute, there was the
pressure, the next, a very intense feeling of pleasure as she thrust the
balls of her foot into my crotch, then the pressure again. I suddenly felt
very strange, best described as a very pleasant version of an urgent need
to urinate. As Lisa adjusted herself in her chair, her thrusts became more
urgent. Slower at first, then with increasing intensity, she continued her
masturbation, each thrust sending waves of increasingly intense sexual
pleasure throughout my body.
"Will that be all for you?" queried a distant voice. Through an
oblivious haze, I looked up into the face of the waiter, who had check in
hand.
"Uh, Yes" I responded in a quivering voice.
"No dessert? No more sodas?" By now, I was fighting for control. No
way I could climax and still maintain my composure. This knucklehead had
to leave, and now.
"Nope" I mustered, "I think we're fine." With what seemed to be
infinite slowness, the waiter placed the bill in front of us. Without
warning, Lisa began suddenly to jiggle her foot very rapidly; the "spikes"
of sensation now came quickly and urgently. I felt this odd sort of
prickle in my scalp that seemed to occur in tandem with Lisa's thrusts.
"You can pay at the front" the waiter finished, motioning towards the
register. "Y'all have a nice day."
As he turned to leave, I shifted my gaze back to Lisa. Her mouth was
slightly open in a sultry type of half-smile, with her tongue sexily
caressing one corner of her mouth, looking straight at me. In spite of
myself, I begun to stare at this female who had me in the palm of her hand
(or at least at the sole of her foot), quite unsure of what else to do. I
began to slouch down against her foot, and found glorious resistance there;
as if to accommodate, the jiggling became even more urgent, more intense.
Lisa began to lick her lips ever so slowly, grinning sexily all the while.
Suddenly, an odd sort of itching sensation appeared in my crotch, and I
felt pleasantly bizarre.
It happened just as one of Lisa's foot-thrusts found its mark. With a
force I didn't expect my loins to be capable of, I shot off my first spurt.
Every fiber of my existence seemed to participate in this initial launch:
it would not surprise me to know that I shot my entire load on that first
spurt. Fighting to maintain some semblance of composture, I could do
nothing but look at the faces Lisa was making at me as torrents of orgasm
raged through my body, my spurts occurring (as if on cue) whenever her
thrust landed.
After the sixth spurt I was utterly spent; I could feel my bodily
plumbing continuing to pump, but nothing was coming out. Lisa slowly
stopped her rubbing action and began to crush my crotch with directed
pressure. She then curled her toes and attempted to drag my still-hard-
but-softening penis down as far as it would go as if to try and squeeze the
last drops of sperm out of it.
"MMMMMmmmmmm" Lisa grinned, looking straight at me. "You all right?
You look a little pale..."
I looked at the now motionless foot squarely placed on my crotch.
"Ugh" I choked, meaning to say "I'm fine."
She giggled at my failed attempt at speech, throwing her head back.
"I caught you looking at my feet several times while we were in the
library. Jenny did, too. I thought you might enjoy something like this."
I looked at Jenny, who had remained silent throughout all this.
I can't deny it, of course. One day, for example, while we were in
the library, we had just taken our seats and began to work, when I noticed
Lisa squirming in her chair. As I looked questioningly at her, she
grimaced, "I'm looking for something." It dawned on me that the reason she
was squirming was because she was shifting her feet/legs around under the
table. Immediately, an odd (but pleasant) sensation began to well up in my
crotch area, and I half-braced myself expecting a delicate press on my
crotch. But, alas, it was not to be. She suddenly stopped her motion, and
announced "There. Found it." My disappointment must have almost been
audible. She had been looking for the supporting bar under the table.
Lisa at first looked askance at me, then smiled. I suppose that's when she
made the connection....
As I let waves of relief course through my body, we prepared to go;
Lisa seemed several "feet" taller as she got up from the table, but I'm
sure that was just an illusion. As we headed out the door, I indicated
that they could drop me off at the library, as I still had a paper to
write. "Uh-uh" Lisa replied. "I'm not through with you yet..." Despite
the sexual encounter of previous, I felt my cock hardening up once more; my
mouth was as dry as ever. "Hope you've got some stamina...you're gonna
need it." Yeah. And sooner than I thought.
It didn't really even occur to me to ask where we were going. I found
myself going through the motions of opening the car door and taking a seat.
It was Lisa that was driving, and Jenny took the back seat, with me. The
fact that the front passenger seat was empty escaped my attention.
And so we began to drive. Presently, Lisa started up a nondescript
conversation with Jenny, something about an upcoming audition. This went
on for about ten minutes, when suddenly, Lisa started talking to me. "So,
Kyle...did you enjoy that little squeeze I gave you, hmmmm?" Little
Squeeze indeed.
"Yeah" I mustered, still somewhat winded, "And at the rate I'm going,
I'll never recover from it, either." Lisa smiled and adjusted the rear-
view mirror a little, I noticed that she was now able to see more of the
back seat area.
"You know what I like, Kyle?" she continued, slightly biting her lower
lip. I couldn't really tell if she really wanted a response to that, so I
answered quickly, least I give birth to the dreaded "Pregnant Pause."
"No, what?"
"I like to watch guys being made to cum reeeaaally haaaarrd" she
responded, putting a sexy emphasis on the last two words. "What do you
think about that, Kyle?" Her words only slowly sunk in. Think? Me?
Under these conditions? Never! I'm only human....
By now, Jenny had scooted in a little closer to where I was sitting,
and was looking me right at me. "Would you like her to kiss you, Kyle?"
Lisa said from behind the rear-view mirror.
"Uh...." was all I could muster. Then again, I didn't really NEED to
respond: Jenny responded enough for the both of us. Without further
prompting, she stretched herself out into my arms. I could feel her
breasts gently pressing against my chest as I fell over from my upright
seated position.
"Open your mouth, Kyle", she breathed with a sultry smile, her face
suddenly inches from mine. I could feel her hands in my hair; I do believe
she was gently massaging my scalp and even pulling my hair a little. Her
breath was warm and minty, and I had the urge to partake of it deeply. Not
quite sure of what to expect, I cautiously opened my mouth. With the same
sultry smile on her face, she began to move her head down towards my lips.
As her head got closer, I could feel my own breath becoming more and more
shallow...
I should point out that, prior to this day, I'd never been kissed.
You can therefore imagine my reaction when our lips first touched. I had
never before felt so invited, tasted something so succulent, as Jenny's
lips did on that kiss. Half instinctively, half out of sheer bliss, I
closed my eyes as the kiss progressed. I suddenly felt her tongue probing
the interior of my mouth, searching out my tongue to intertwine with. Her
sweet saliva mingled with mine (was that a Tic-Tac, perchance?) as she
found her intended target. Still quite unsure of myself, I did nothing as
she stretched her tongue deep into my mouth, then ran the tip of it over
the top of my tongue. Her lips were firmly locked over mine, forming a
tight seal between our two mouths. Her tongue seemed to be everywhere,
probing and caressing even the most distant spots in my mouth. Mustering
up courage from some deep unknown reserve, I moved my tongue to intercept
hers; it didn't have to go far. She responded instantly, wrapping her own
tongue lovingly around mine.
===========
[At some point, the author must have referenced these footnotes. They were
like this when I saw them, but the references are fairly clear.]
In this class, girls outnumbered guys by about 2:1, which was the highest
in any of my particular curriculum classes.
Most pharmaceutical giants are large, ya know...
Only marginally successful this time around. I didn't finish this
particular scenario until some time after the time span this story deals
with. End Result? The bastard Romans nuked me in 1988, and between dead
troops and global warming, I found myself unable to compete further...
Puns like that are protected by my First Amendment rights under the
constitution. In Singapore, however, it would have garnered me an
additional 6 lashes from the cane, the prior 6 for writing this tome in the
first place...
This is NOT a pun spun off from my personality. I'm not a shallow person.
Am not! Notnotnotnotnotnotnotnotnotnot!
=====================
Unexpected Rewards
D. Nasakcuf
Section A
-30-
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