by Amber K.
“So would you like to begin, Mr. Simmons?”
Up to this point, Brad Simmons was studying the office in which he sat, poignantly avoiding eye contact with the woman sitting behind the desk. Upon hearing his name he quickly looked up.
“I really don’t know how to do this kind of thing … this was my wife’s idea.”
“Well, maybe we could discuss why you are here for starters and then we’ll move on from there.”
Simmons again showed signs of visible discomfort and once again restlessly cast his eyes about the room.
“Well … I ….,” Brad stammered, cleared his throat noisily, then tried to work the saliva back into his mouth. A few moments of uncomfortable silence followed finally punctuated by another loud throat clearing from Brad.
“Your wife informed my assistant that you have developed a sexual aberration that is disrupting your love life.” Usually Mrs. Evans preferred her patients to instigate the therapy session with a verbal declaration of the issue at hand, but she was beginning to feel it was necessity to get the preverbal ball rolling with a direct approach. “So why don’t we discuss the initial onset of the problem.”
“I don’t know if I can do this, Doc,” Brad said as he cast a wary, sidelong glance.
“I’m not a doctor Mr. Simmons, I’m a certified sex and wellness therapist … Claire would do just fine, or Mrs. Evans if it would make you more comfortable.”
“Ok … Claire,” Brad said the name slowly as if trying it out for size. This would be a hell of a lot easier if she wasn’t a woman, Brad thought. Maybe if she was fat and ugly it might work. But she’s just pretty enough to make me uncomfortable.
“You say it is on your wife’s insistence that you are here seeking therapy?” Claire ventured.
“Do you feel you need therapy?”
“Ya, I guess so … hell, I don’t know.”
“This condition, is it something that has developed over the years?”
“Kind of I guess … though I really didn’t know it was there until a year ago.”
“Was there something significant about this last year?”
Brad let out a resigned sigh and began to relate his tale, seeming to gain a bit of confidence as he went. “My wife’s a teacher at the Sunny Bay Middle School. She started working there as a teacher’s aid when she was 21 or so … so I guess its been about five years now. Anyway, it was Halloween of last year and she told me they were having an in-school trick or treating deal that was supposed to be safe for the kids. It was kind of like a carnival though not as grand as that.”
Claire made a few notes on her yellow legal pad.
“Well, I really didn’t want to go, but we’d been having a few issues about my not attending her school functions so I said ‘Sure, what the heck … I’ll go with you’. It seemed to make her happy. So on Halloween I went with her to the school and it was pretty much as I expected; bunches of preteen kids running amok screaming their heads off.
“Around eight O’clock or so they announced that the haunted house was open and that everyone should get in a line. I was getting ready to duck out for a smoke when Jen, that’s my wife, Jen grabs my arm and says that I had to go through it with her and the rest of the kids. I guess she could tell I was going to put up a fuss so she said that she and the other teachers had put in a lot of work and it would be nice of me to show my support … blah blah blah. Anyway, I got in line with everyone else.
“The haunted house was in their gymnasium and was basically put together with cardboard, sheets, plywood and stuff like that. It was pretty rickety and I was surprised they thought the thing was safe. So, anyway, halfway through, you get to this point where you have to get down on your hands and knees and crawl through this long plastic pipe. There were tiny holes cut in the side of the tube for a strobe light to flash through. It was fine for the kids, but I just barely fit. I crawled in behind one of my wife’s students, I think her name is Karen or Kerry or something. My wife came in behind. We get about what I think is halfway through the thing and I hear a loud crash and everyone in the tube starts screams like crazy. The next thing I know the sound effects shut off and I could see the overhead gym lights come on through the tiny holes in the tube.
The principle starts telling everyone to be calm. He says some kids knocked down the back part of the structure and it was going to take a bit to dig the pipe out from underneath all of the 2×4’s and boards and stuff. Basically, me and my wife and about five kids were stuck in the crappy tube, strung out like sausage links. Then …. after a minute or so my wife started getting a little fruity …”
“Ah … ya … I guess I should have told you about that first. My wife is, I don’t know what its called … she likes to do … ah, stuff in public…”
“She likes to have sexual encounters in public places? ‘
“So you’re saying she’s an exhibitionist.”
“Ya that’s it, an exhibitionist …”
“I see, please continue … you were trapped in the pipe and your wife started to instigate a sexual encounter …”
“Ya, we’re stuck in there and she reaches up under my robe, see I was wearing a grim reaper get-up, all I had on was shorts cause the robe was hot as hell. She pushes my shorts aside and grabs my cock. I was totally not into it, but I was afraid to say anything. If the kids overheard she’d get fired for sure. I knew they couldn’t see since none of use could turn around, but it was still dangerous as all hell.”
“You said there was a student in front of you in the tube?”
“Ya,” Brad seemed to grow more uncomfortable.
“A female student named …” Claire referred to her notes, “Karen or Kerry?”
“Or something like that, a “K” name,” Brad shifted uncomfortably in his chair.
Ok, Claire thought, now we are coming to the issue, its something to do with the girl. Did he have pedophiliac thoughts maybe?
“How old was she Mr. Simmons?”
“I don’t know … 12 or 13 or something …” Brad glances up guiltily and tries to continue with his narrative. “Anyway, my wife pulls out my cock and starts to squeeze it. She kind of crawls up closer and squeezes herself between the top of the tube and my back … ya know, kinda leans on my back which made it so I couldn’t move at all. Not even an inch. So even though I wasn’t into this, I starting getting hard anyway, ya know?”
“That’s common, Mr. Simmons.”
“Ya, well she starts, ya know, giving me a hand-job. She spits in her hand and really starts going off. It starts making this noise like, well, like a hand job, and I’m sure the girl in front of us is gonna hear it. I … err… make a good bit of noise during sex … I always have and I can’t really help it So I start kinda groaning. I’m doing it before I even realize I’m making any noise. So instead of stopping, my wife slaps her hand over my mouth to keep me quiet and speeds up the hand job. In order to reach, she leans even more on my back which pushes my head almost to the floor of this tube.”
“How close are you to the student?”
“How close are you to the student?” Brad is totally caught up in the memory, his reservations are temporarily forgotten … “Pretty close, her ass was right in my face at first. She was wearing an angel or fairy costume so I could see her panties and everything. But when my wife pushed me forward … well, that’s when it got crazy.”
“What got crazy, Mr. Simmons?”
“Well, I …. I got a really strong whiff of her feet.”
And hear we are, ladies and gentleman, Claire thought … the crux has arrived. “Please continue.”
“Well I guess the girl took off her shoes when she crawled into the tube cause they were bare. The soles of her feet were only an inch or so from my nose, and with my mouth covered I had no choice but to smell them.”
“What did they smell like?”
“They smelled really strong … I mean, I guess you’d say they smelled pretty freakin’ horrible, but that’s the thing, as I was smelling this little girl’s rancid feet I started getting even more turned on, ya know? I got rock hard and my whole body started shaking. I guess my wife thought it was what she was doing cause she did this sultry little laugh and sped up her hand. In seconds I was sucking in as much of her foot smell as I could, really digging it. I know it sounds sick but I couldn’t stop myself. I kept thinking about how long it had been since she had washed her feet … what her dirty socks on the floor of her bedroom would smell like … how bad her feet would stink after her gym class … stuff like that. Then before I knew it, I was cumming like crazy … all over the damn place. I was groaning and moaning to beat the devil and sniffing that girl’s feet for all I was worth. My cum sprayed all over my inner thighs, knees and everywhere.”
Brad sat in silence for a moment, regaining his composure. Obviously reliving this experience had effected him significantly. Claire noted that his face was flushed and that he was sweating. She added the observation to her notes and waited patiently for him to continue. When it appeared that he was at a stand still, Claire prodded him to get him going again. “Did you relate the specifics of the event to your wife?”
“Hell no!” Brad yelped in surprise. “She’d divorce me for sure! Jesusgod no … I never said a word. It was hard to keep quiet though, with all her primping about how good her hand job was and about how excited I got. I guess she came to … at least that’s what she told me on the way home that night. Do you have any water?”
Claire poured Brad a glass of water from the decanter on her desk and waited for him to compose himself.
“So the thing is Doc … ah, I mean Claire, sorry … in the next few days I started remembering all sorts of crazy stuff from when I was a kid: like I had this babysitter who used to make me smell her feet. I can’t remember why, but I do remember that I hated it at first, but after a while I couldn’t wait for her to come over … even though I remember pretending like I still hated it so she would keep doing it, ya know? And then there’s was a time I smelled my mom’s feet when she was taking a nap and she woke up and caught me. I think she spanked me but I’m not sure. And then there’s a bunch of other stuff that’s just fragments and images. I don’t know why or how I forgot all of it,” Brad drained the last of the water from his glass.
Claire tapped her pen against her teeth and noted that Brad’s breathing had regulated and that he seemed less excitable. She had to admit that his case was very intriguing and that she had yet to deal with one of this specific nature. She’d read, at the most, a few paragraphs about foot fetishists during her studies but nothing that dissected the issue enough to be of help.
“So if you didn’t communicate any of this to your wife,” Claire inquired, “why is that she asked you to come see me?”
“The thing is, after I started remembering all of that stuff, I became kind of obsessive about it all. I masturbated a bunch of times a day trying to bring up as many vivid memories of that babysitter as well as that night on Halloween smelling that girl’s feet. Of course I started doing stuff like smelling my wife’s gym socks and her stockings and stuff. I was sneaking around like that for about two months before she finally caught me with my nose buried in the toe end of her socks from Jazzercise. She totally flipped! She said I was a freak … which I thought was pretty lame since she’s the one who likes “doing it” in public. But she said that she was normal and a lot of people were like that, but that I was a weirdo.”
“Do you think you are a weirdo, Mr. Simmons?”
“I don’t know … you tell me.”
“So was it the event of your sock sniffing that caused the rift in your sex life?”
“No. After she knew I was sniffing her socks, I couldn’t find a worn pair to save my life. As soon as she came home, her socks or stockings would go right in the washing machine … and she started putting odor eaters in her shoes and powdering her feet. I was going nuts! I tried smelling my own feet,” Brad added with a touch of humiliation, “but it just didn’t do it, ya know?”
“Did you try to discuss this with her?”
“I tried but she wouldn’t talk to me about it. She said that it gave her the creeps to know I was sneaking around smelling her stinky socks. Then this last week we went backpacking with some friends. We were on a five day hike and I knew even with her odor eaters her feet were really stinking. I instigated sex with her the last night before we came home and when we were in the middle of it, I tried to take a sniff of her feet. I took one whiff and her feet smelled so incredibly strong I started cumming right then. I mean her feet smelled out of this world. Really foul and rank. They were literally slimy with sweat and foot-funk. Unfortunately she saw me take the sniff. Her eyes got really wide and her mouth popped open in a look of shock or surprise, ya know. Then my cock exploded all over her face. I couldn’t stop myself, those feet stunk so bad I had to take another few sniffs while I was cumming. I pumped my cock and kept smelling her feet like a madman. I totally drenched her face and I could hear her choking on the cum that was going into her mouth, but I didn’t care … I had to keep smelling those feet! I was out of control.
“When I was finally done cumming she totally freaked out on me. She said that the second we got home she wanted me to get some help. She said if I didn’t we weren’t having sex again, so here I am.”
After thinking for a few moments Claire looked Brad in the eye, “Since I have only your side of the story to work with I feel uneasy making too many harsh judgments on you wife or drawing any conclusions at all for that matter. Based solely on your point of view, I would have to say that she is not very understanding and that she is acting in an horrendously selfish manner. I think it would be helpful, if not a necessity, to have her attend the next session.”
“I don’t think she’ll come … she said I had the problem and not her.”
“Well, I’ll give her a call personally Mr. Simmons you can rest assured.”
“Well, what do I do in the mean time, I’m going nuts! I almost considered picking up a hooker!”
“I don’t think that would solve your problems.”
“Well what then?”
“I’m not in a position as of yet to dictate a course of action for you. I think we need to take this one step at a time. I would though like to try an experiment with you permission.”
“Sure I guess … what do you want me to do?”
“I received my certificates from a treatment center called Littlerock … have you heard of it? No? Well, some of their methods are rather extreme and at times considered unorthodox by the uninitiated, but I find them effective nonetheless. Basically I would like to follow a series of procedures specifically intended for those with a fetish or intense sexual obsession. The process assists the therapist to diagnose the extent of the subject’s obsession. The first part is a basic verbal stimulus. After that we may move on to more advanced enactments. Are you ready to begin?”
“Sure … I guess.”
Claire stood and moved one of the unoccupied office chairs closer to her side of the desk. “I want you to sit here, but first I need you to remove your pants and undergarments.”
“I assure you it is necessary. If you do not feel comfortable with it just say so.”
Brad looked at Claire for a few minutes. Back to this … if she were fat and ugly this would be no big deal … well maybe it would. “Ok, I’ll give this a shot.” Brad reluctantly pulled off his jeans and underwear and made a halfhearted attempt at covering his genitals.
“Please have a seat,” Claire said as she indicated the chair. As Brad sat down he realized the chair was a lot closer to the therapist than he had at first surmised; their knees were almost touching. He felt very exposed and vulnerable. To make matters worse, Mrs. Evans clicked on her desk lamp and focused the light directed upon his cock and balls.
“I’d like you to please remove your hands from your penis,” Claire said in a matter of fact tone.
Reluctantly Brad moved his hands away and set them on the arm rests. He could feel the heat from the lamp warming his genitalia.
“I want you to take deep breaths and relax yourself as much as you can. Close your eyes if you feel it will help. I want you to keep your arms on the rests of the chair and not to move them, ok?”
“Now, lets begin. Everything I am about to say is true, rest assured I am not inventing facts for your benefit, understood? Now I want you to open your eyes. Now follow the tip of my pen.”
At first Brad thought she meant to hypnotize him, but instead of rocking the pen back and forth, she started at her chest level and moved the pen down her pant leg and finally ended pointing at her shoe. She was wearing a pair of chunky soled mules, and he could see her feet were bare within. When his eyes landed on her exposed heel, he felt his face flush. He didn’t even realize the pen was gone until he heard her scratching something onto her note pad. His eyes drifted back to her face.
“Please continue to look where your eyes were directed. I have a series of questions for you and I would like you to answer truthfully. Would you like to smell my feet?”
Brad gasped, his face going a beet red. Again he heard the scratching of the pen.
“Do you want to smell my feet, Mr. Simmons?”
All that came out was a dry croak that sound like “aggyaaaa”.
“ Please speak up Mr. Simmons.”
“I’m sorry … I said ‘yes’.”
“I see,” more scratching. She began to dangle one of the mules exposing more of her heel. He guessed her feet to be at least a size 10, maybe bigger. They didn’t seem bony like most big feet he had seen on women. These looked more full … at least from what he could see.
“Would you like to watch your wife smell my feet?”
This kind of thought had strangely never occurred to Brad, but the image was like a thunder bolt in his brain. He pictured his wife’s face wrinkled in disgust as she sniffed at those big feet. “Oh god,” he whispered. Apparently that was a good enough answer for the therapist because she scratched another entry into her notes.
In a conversational tone Claire began to relate a few important details: “This is all rather ironic, but I assure you it is the truth … A little over a week ago the belt on my washing machine snapped. I’ve been too busy to make it to the Laundromat and I’ve been forced to recycle my stockings, being as I only have two good pairs. Today, the smell was seeping out of my shoes and became too embarrassing to wear. I took them off and stuck them in my purse, but during my last session you could still smell them in the room. I finally was given no choice but to put them in a sandwich bag to mute the smell. They are now in the bottom drawer of my desk. Do you want to smell them?”
Brad could only groan at this point … more scratching from the pen.
“Do you want your wife to smell them? Would you like to see your wife “forced” to smell them?”
Again Brad uttered an inarticulate monosyllable. Claire’s eyes traced the outline of what was now an enormous erection standing like a flagpole between his thighs. Thus far no physical contact had been made, nor had he access to the aroma of unwashed feet. He was given a glimpse of a heel and the suggestion of foot odor, combined with a few strategically placed mental images. Claire felt she was efficiently narrowing in and finding his angles. She felt it was time to step up the process. Both mules slipped from her feet and thumped to the carpet.
“Look at my feet, Mr. Simmons.” There was no need to instruct him, but the verbal command was important nonetheless.
Brad stared transfixed at her glorious feet now revealed. She had both feet side by side with her ankle bones touching and her soles flat on the floor. They had to be a size 11 for sure … and as he had imagined they were not bony in the slightest. Her toes were plump yet long and her skin was a creamy white. Her toenails were painted a dark maroon and the overall vision was one of high eroticism. Brad was speechless.
“Do you see my feet Mr. Simmons? Do you want to smell my feet?”
Unconsciously, Brad’s hand began to move towards his swollen cock.
“Mind your hand, Mr. Simmons. Please leave it on the arm rest, thank you.” Brad was snapped from his revelry and replaced his hand sheepishly. He then heard the sound of her desk drawer open. Her hand returned holding a zip-lock sandwich bag. Within, Brad could see a crumpled pair of tan nylons. She placed the baggie on his knee. His eyes were instantly glued to the holiest of holies trapped within the bag.
Claire watched as his body began to quiver. His erection now appeared almost painful, the head was a deep purple and glistening as it leaked a steady stream of precum. It throbbed and bounced with his pulse rate. His fingers and hands twitched on the arm rests. She half expected to see him begin to drool. This poor man was worked up beyond anything she had previously viewed.
“Would you like to smell my stockings? Do you think they will smell strong? Can you describe what you think they will smell like?” Claire asked these question knowing full well he was beyond the point of speech. For some reason she felt the need to see how far she could push him. Claire began to wonder if she was she actually enjoying this in more than a clinical nature. With that thought she realized she may be acting irresponsibly, but she quickly pushed aside her doubts and continued with the process.
“Now Mr. Simmons …. Mr. Simmons …. Mr. Simmons!” Finally Brad tore his eyes away from the stockings. “I would like you to begin breathing only through your mouth.” Claire moved back and placed both feet on the desk, directly in front of Brad’s face. “Look at the soles of my feet.”
Brad began to pant loudly. Breathing through his mouth was a lancing hell, but he knew the therapist must know what’s best and that this was for his own good. His eyes traced every millimeter of her feet. To Brad her feet were beyond perfection … they were damn near supernatural. Her arches were high and elegant, her pads were broad and meaty toped by her perfect toes. Her heels were rounded, not flat, with a trace of calluses at their base. He also noted a slight callous on the instep of her big toe. She neither flexed her feet nor spread her toes, they remained motionless for his inspection.
“I want you to stand,” Brad did as he was instructed though on shaky legs. “Now I would like you to bend forward until the tip of your nose is touching the area of my foot directly beneath my toes. Continue to breathe thorough your mouth and nothing more.” Brad slowly bent forward until his nose rested upon the hot flesh of her pad. Immediately his eyes began to sting and water slightly. Now a line of drool did threaten to drip out as he was bent forward panting like a dog.
“Now I am going to count to five,” Claire announced, “are you ready Mr. Simmons? Mr. Simmons?”
SMELL THE FOOT … NOW!”
Brad pulled the hot, stinging fumes of her huge, rank foot into his nostrils. The stink was like an explosion to his senses. He’d never smelled anything like it before. The smell of her foot matched its size … it was rank beyond comparison. He began to hyperventilate through his nose… sniffing, sniffing, sniffing! His cock jumped with each stinky sniff he took. His mind was in shock trying to assimilate such an intense reek. His entire body tingled. Brad opened his eyes to see her huge toes, blurry at such close range. His eyes focused until he could see clearly, the toejam nestled between her toes. Again his eyes shifted focus to see Mrs. Evan’s face, framed through her toes. She was watching him intently as she gnawed on the tip of her pen. He took another shuddering sniff … this one longer than his short huffs. The sniff slowly continued, pulling in as much of her gloriously wretched foot-stink as he could manage in a single smell. Time seemed to slow as he filled his lungs with that one long sniff. The heady stink of her feet filled his entire being like a hellfire conflagration.
When the sniff finally ended and his lungs were filled to capacity with her foot odor, he began to exhale, but the exhale came out in a near scream as he stood up, stiff as a board. His poor tortured penis could take no more, exploding cum in a bursting flood of pearly white jizzum. His hand reached to staunch the flow, but the orgasm was too intense to be abated.
Claire Evans screamed in surprise as her face was drenched with Mr. Simmons’s sudden deluge. Ropes of hot semen continued to jet from his swollen member, spattering her face and neck, some spurts actually finding their way into her open mouth, and filling it with the tang of his seed. Instinctively she swallowed repeatedly to avoid choking on the salty fluid. Some of the goo dribbled from the corners of her lips, pooling in her cleavage. Claire was frozen in shock … her expression was one of utter disbelief as this man continued to send gouts of cum in strong arcs towards her face. Her eyes were glued to the head of his swollen cock marveling that the flow seemed to have no end. She’d never, in all her days, seen a man cum so much. She could now understand Mrs. Simmons’s shock at witnessing her husband’s orgasmic explosion following the smelling of her feet. Again Claire unconsciously swallowed another mouthful of the cum and noted the final spurt as his orgasm ended.
Brad collapsed in the chair shaking from head to toe. Claire, still in shock, stared at him for a number of minutes while his cum dripped from her chin. She reached a hand to her chest and felt the unbelievable amount of sperm oozing down her cleavage, soaking her blouse. She pulled a handful of tissue from her desk and tried to mop up the mess. As she returned to her senses, Claire realized her nipples were hard as bullets and her pussy was soaking through her panties. This would not do. She had to maintain a level of professionalism at all cost. After a few deep breaths Claire regained a semblance of composure. When she again looked upon Mr. Simmons she realized he was weeping. She quickly closed the space between them and massaged his shoulders until his sobs subsided. “I’m so sorry … I couldn’t stop it,” Brad moaned.
“Sush now, Mr. Simmons … I pushed you to the point of climax, it was not your doing.”
“But you screamed!”
“I was merely surprised at the force and suddenness of your orgasm. I had planned to allow time for you to masturbate, to avoid tenderness and swelling in your testicles, once the process was finished and I had collected all the data I needed. Of course I expected to give you a bit of privacy by leaving the room. I just didn’t expect it to happen in such the way it did. There’s no need for you to apologize. I should have expected it though. You’ve been worked into a state of extreme desire and yearning by the abstinence of your wife. I was attempting to discover your ability to withstand temptation as well as gage the depth of you desire. I think we have established both and have made considerable progress for a single session, though I do apologize for upsetting you.”
Claire returned to her desk as Brad pulled on his pants. There was no need for him to clean himself, not a drop of semen had fallen on him.
“I will be calling your wife this week to set up an appointment in which you both should be present. I feel that some serious steps must be taken to save the marriage and allow for you both to enjoy a healthy sexual relationship.”
“How can I stand it though! I don’t feel any different! The smell from your foot is still on my face … and each time I sniff my whole body shivers! Right now I swear all I want to do is smell your feet for the rest of my life! Why won’t my wife let me …”
Claire cut Brad off mid-sentence … “I want you to take this home with you,” the therapist tossed the zip-lock bag to Brad, “if you are feeling depressed or in need, please use them freely until our next session.”
Brad gazed at the stockings in the bag with blatant greed. Looking up, “Can I ask you a question? Was all that stuff about your washing machine true … or did my wife tell you about everything before I got here.”
“As I said, Mr. Simmons, everything I told you was true. Ironic, as I initially stated, but nonetheless true. I assure you, Mr. Simmons my feet do not smell this strong naturally. It was a happy coincidence is all , but it did turn out to be quite useful for you case.” Brad merely nodded. “I hope to see you next week, Mr. Simmons … you and your wife. Good day.”
Once Brad reached the parking lot, and climbed into his van, he immediately scrambled into the back seat. After making a cursory inspection of the parking lot through the tinted windows, he tore open the bag and thrust his face inside. The sheer material of the nylons closed about his nose as he deeply sniffed. The rank effluvium of sweaty foot funk assaulted his senses. It was like an amalgamation of corn chips, old leather, vinegar, soy sauce and a plethora of other like smells multiplied one thousand times. It was a pure unadulterated explosion of stinky feet. The rankness of Mrs. Evan’s aromatic foot-stink was perfectly embodied in those crusty nylons. It was unmistakably the same smell of her foot he had sniffed during the session, but it had intensified in the hot, steamy confines of the zip-lock bag. He sniffed again, greedily moaning aloud. In seconds his cock was again hard, this time in hand as he masturbated furiously to another climax.
From the window of her office, Claire Evans watched Simmons’ van sit motionless in the lot for at least ten minutes before finally pulling out onto the street. A grin marred her otherwise clinical appearance. Of course the cum stains on her blouse helped to dispense her air of professionalism as well. She had a pretty good idea of what had delayed him and she was glad. The thought that she was glad slightly disturbed her. She should not receive a feeling of joy from a man smelling her befouled nylons, but for some reason it empowered her. She would have to be careful with this case. It had the sense of danger. If nothing else, her blatant disregard for typical therapeutic protocol during the later parts of the session was a good indicator of her need to reign in a bit.
Seating herself on the office couch she pondered the case again. She then decided on one more coarse of action before locking up for the night. Opening the closet in the front lobby she pulled out a pair of running shoes belonging to her assistant, Betty. Betty kept these shoes at work for her Tuesday and Thursday jogs. On several occasions Claire had playfully complained about their smell in the office. She knew the scent they held.
After returning to her office she once again sat on the couch and pulled off her slacks and panties. The leather of the couch was cold on her ass but soon warmed from her body heat. Claire felt it was necessary to fully understand the relation and experience of the foot smell coupled with sexual climax. This was something she was most assuredly inexperienced in. She laid back and began to masturbate. After a few moments she lifted Betty’s running shoe to her nose and sniffed deeply. The foul wave of stench emanating from the shoe filled her with loathing. Her nose wrinkled in disgust yet she forced herself to sniff again, savoring the horrid scent of her assistant’s nasty little shoe. She sped her fingers up, pushing harder on her clit, and sniffed again. This time she almost gagged. “Jesus your feet stink, Betty,” she surprised herself by musing out loud. Again she forced herself to take another sniff of the rank shoe. Her nostrils began to quiver as she continued her smelling inspection.
Dropping the shoe to the floor, Claire pulled her own foot to her nose. She paused a moment, stealing her reserve. She eyed her foot, now only inches from her face. She began to rub her clit even faster. “Ok,” she said out loud, “here we go.” As soon as her own foot-stink entered her nostrils her face pulled down in an almost comic expression of disgust. “Holy shit!” she moaned, “he was smelling this!” The will it took to sniff her foot again was even more difficult than smelling the shoe, but Claire sniffed again. The reek from her foot seemed thick and tangible. She had no idea her feet smelled so intensely. Despite the horrific odor of her raunchy foot, Claire’s orgasm was steadily approaching. She began to mimic Mr. Simmons’s quick repetitive sniffs, completely filling her senses with the stench of her own monstrously stinky foot. She continued to assault her pussy, finally forcing an orgasm of tremendous proportions. As the orgasm hit, she thrust two fingers, knuckle deep into her anus and pumped, smelling all the while.
When Claire finished cumming she sat a while starring at her feet. She’d never considered the power they had, nor the possibility for them to smell to such an extent. After this experience she felt she had a pretty good idea of how intense it could be for someone like Mr. Simmons. If the intensity of her feet was unleashed upon someone who yearned for the smell, it would be tantamount to a sexual weapon. If her feet smelled this strong now, what would happen if she purposely pursued an even stronger scent? And then how would someone like Mr. Simmons react? Food for thought.
As she locked up the office she found herself looking forward to the call to Mrs. Simmons and to the next session. Yes, she would have to be careful with this one … very careful.
Two weeks had passed since Mr. Simmons’s session with Claire Evans. In that time, Brad had developed a nightly ritual. Long after his wife retired to bed, one could find Brad securely locked in the downstairs bathroom masturbating furiously to the fetid scent of Mrs. Evans’ soiled stockings. To the uninitiated, Brad would have appeared rather ludicrous. One toe of the nylons, pressed firmly to his sniffing nose, the other, sucked fervently between his lips filling his mouth with the tangy and bitter taste of the therapist’s foot-funk.
Brad’s mind was on fire with the remembrance of Mrs. Evans’s gloriously stinky feet. It soon became a dull ache in his chest as he yearned to again inhale their near deadly aroma. A growing resentment for his wife also bloomed soon after the therapy session. Occasionally he would catch torturous samples of his wife’s full-bodied foot-reek. Their filthy unwashed odor would sometimes fill the room when she disrobed following her aerobics class. Of course she would quickly bundle the soiled footwear to the laundry room to be washed before she climbed into the shower. Brad would, at these times, sniff fitfully at the residual stink that would slowly fade as she left the room. Her efforts to deny him that which he desired now seemed hateful to him and thoughts of his wife’s feet now inspired him to anger. Why would she not indulge him? Who would it hurt for christsake, Brad thought. I’d do anything for her … why does she refuse to help me!??
As far as Brad’s wife was concerned, she was helping him. Of course she had always leaned towards the selfish side of things ever since she was a little girl, thus the idea of working through the dilemma so both could benefit never occurred to her. The idea of treating him like a junkie made perfect sense though. She did her best to deny him any stimuli concerning her foot smell and would continue to do so until he dropped this ludicrous new kink. I mean how gross, she thought, smelling someone’s nasty feet!
On the fateful camping trip, during which she had caught Brad sniffing her soles, she had taken a sniff herself. Once Brad had fallen asleep, following the indignant chastisement he had received from her, she had pulled one of her bare feet to her nose and tentatively took a sniff. Immediately she had jerked her head back in revulsion. The smell of her own filthy foot aroma was overwhelmingly horrible and she couldn’t imagine such a thing giving her husband such a powerful orgasm. He had to be sick, she insisted to herself, he just had to be.
The act of smelling her foot had triggered a gut response as had the first time she had caught Brad with her socks and the same only an hour earlier when she’d witnessed him smelling her feet in earnest. It was a deep disturbing sensation. Inexplicable but very present. She continued to look despairingly at the dirty and grimy surface of her soles and bottoms of her toes; they were near black with grime and particles of sock fuzz clung to the skin’s slimy surface. “Disgusting!” she had said out loud, nearly waking him in the process. The sensation of feeling deeply disturbed hovered at the corners of her consciousness. There was something else there, but Jen refused to waste her time delving to deeply into the reason for it. I mean, who wouldn’t feel freaked out, she mused, before going back to sleep.
When Brad’s therapist, Claire Evans, had contacted her about attending the next session, Beth was dubious. Why should she have to go … Brad had the problem not her? Besides, she was busy with the school and didn’t have much in the way of free time. Somehow Mrs. Evans had finally convinced her and they had both agreed upon a date for the session.
Claire sat in her office listening to Tess Chavez relate her sexual fantasies concerning her 15 year old stepson. The session was drawing to a close yet she could tell that Tess was getting more worked up by the minute. Her face was flushed and she continuously crossed and uncrossed her legs. Claire knew this was a polite way for Tess to stimulate her own pussy without actually touching it. Claire watched Tess’s tongue dart of her mouth for the sixth time in the last few minutes and wet her lips. Suddenly the woman changed gears and began to relate a fantasy in which she watched her natural born daughter, age 17, and her stepson engaged in anal penetration.
“I think we’d better save this for our next session, Tess. I have a four O’clock and its already three-fifty.” Tess took a deep breath to compose herself and reluctantly smiled at Claire.
“I’m sorry, I guess I got kind of carried away, Mrs. Evans.”
“No need to apologize, Tess, we’ll continue where we left off next week. Remember to make an appointment with my assistant when you leave.”
“Thanks, Mrs. Evans.”
No sooner had Tess closed the door than she peeked back in. “Yes?” Claire inquired. “There’s no one in the front office, Mrs. Evans,” Tess replied apologetically.
“Oh, I’m sorry Tess, my assistant is on her Thursday jog. I’ll pencil you in myself.”
“OK, see you next week,” Tess smiled. Claire watched the matronly woman close the office door. If her family only knew the things she told me, Claire thought.
Before Claire could finish organizing her notes for the Simmons session there was a knock on her office door. “Yes?” The door immediately opened and a strikingly pretty woman entered. She was petite and stood barely above five foot. Her short cropped brown hair was matted with sweat and appeared unkempt though the suit she wore was immaculate. “Mrs. Simmons?”
The woman plopped down in one of the patient chairs and exhaled loudly. “Am I to assume my husband has yet to arrive.”
“Are you all right, Mrs. Simmons, you looked flushed. Would you like a glass of water?”
“You look as if you ran here. Are you sure everything is alright?”
Mrs. Simmons smirked in a non-friendly manner. “The showers at my gym were out of order. Of course they were fine when my aerobics class started, but when we went back to the locker room there was a sign claiming a pipe had burst. Of course its hot as hell outside and I’m sweating buckets now. I’m sure I’ll positively ruin my blouse!”
Claire’s first response to this woman was one of dislike, but she skillfully pushed her personal feelings aside and addressed the woman with a pleasant smile. “I’ll get you a glass of water and turn up the air conditioning. Then maybe when can chat a bit before your husband arrives.”
Claire watched the woman sipping the water she had offered and felt relief when the woman’s hackles seemed to go down a bit. “Why don’t you take off your jacket, I’ll hang it for you.” Mrs. Simmons unbuttoned her suit jacket revealing a prim, white blouse with large sweat rings beneath her armpits and a damp spot on her back. Claire could smell her sweat and perfume. The spots seemed to fade a bit as the air touched them.
“Better?” Claire inquired politely.
“Yes, thank you. Isn’t Brad supposed to be here?”
“I told him to come in at 4:30 and my assistant, Betty, is on a jog until 5:00 or so, which gives us some private time to talk.”
“What do we have to talk about?”
“Well, the reason we are here is to hopefully repair your sexual relations with you husband.”
“That’s up to him,” Jen sneered, “I sure as hell didn’t tell him to start sniffing feet to get off.”
“Maybe we should discuss your obvious aversion to his desire. You sound rather vehement.”
“Of course I am! Why the hell wouldn’t I have an aversion? Would you want your husband snuffling at your feet when they smelled bad?”
“So does it embarrass you?”
Jen was taken of guard momentarily. “Well … I don’t know. It just bothers me.”
“Do your feet smell strongly, Mrs. Simmons?”
“What the hell kind of question is that! That’s none of your business!”
“Its a simple question, Mrs. Simmons. If it will make you feel any better, my feet smell very bad from time to time. Its nothing to be ashamed of.”
“OK, ya they stink sometimes … there, happy?”
“I assure you I’m not trying to make you uncomfortable, Mrs. Simmons. I’m simply trying to understand why you have taken such an issue with your husbands newly remembered desire.”
“What do you mean ‘newly remembered’ … he wasn’t like this when we met or before we married for that matter.”
“Its a childhood trauma that inspired the desire I believe. It has recently resurfaced, but I think the rest should come from your husband.”
“I don’t care why … I just want it to stop! If you can’t help him then maybe we should go to someone who can!”
“The problem is, Mrs. Simmons, that I don’t think your husband’s condition can be considered a problem.”
Jen was speechless. Not a problem, was this woman nuts! He liked to smelled stinky feet!
“Why are you ashamed of the smell of your feet, Mrs. Simmons?”
Suddenly a loathsome memory flooded Jen’s head. She was six years old, still Jennifer Woletski … long before she would marry and become Jen Simmons … she was away at summer camp. Jen and her cabin mates were playing “truth or dare” long after the rest of the camp was asleep. Jen had just finished sticking the end of her pinkie finger in her rectum on a dare. All the girls were laughing, including herself. Jen had always been an exhibitionist, even at that young age. The next cabin mate in line was Cindy Lathrop. Cindy also chose “dare”. Marty Fletcher dared her to smell Jen’s feet for two minutes without stopping. Jen’s heart had sunk upon hearing this. She knew her feet were really stinky from a hike that afternoon and she’d been mortified to find no clean socks in her bag. All the other girls had their shoes off, but Jen had keep hers on to mask the stench. Maybe that was why Marty used Jen’s feet as a dare for Cindy. Jen was now sure that all the girls had noticed that she was the only one still wearing shoes.
Before she could object Cindy had grabbed the heel of her shoe and pulled it off. All five girls were sitting in a close circle until Jen’s shoe thumped to the floor. The reek of Jen’s sweaty foot and crusty sock filled the cabin, sending all of the girl scurrying away. They were all pinching their nose and yelling “gross” and “yuck” at the top of their lungs. Jen’s face blushed a deep red. “You have to smell it!” Marty taunted Cindy. Her voice sounded nasally since she had pinched it closed like the other girls. Jen looked at Cindy and saw the girl was in a panic. Her lips were drawn back in a near snarl of loathing as she gazed in disgust at Jen’s socked foot. “You have to you have to!” Marty chanted. Again Jen was about to object when Cindy laid on her back and pulled the foot down onto her face. Jen felt air sucked between her toes through the covering of her moist sock as Cindy took her first sniff.
The girl coughed and began to moan loudly in a pitiful voice. All the girls laughed maniacally and began to chant, “Smell her feet, smell her feet, smell her feet!” Finally Marty darted forward and ripped the sock from Jen’s foot. To Jen’s growing horror, she felt the hot scummy skin of her sole come in contact with the soft cool flesh of Cindy’s face. Now the poor suffering girl had Jen’s slimy sole on her lips, nose and forehead. Another load moan sounded from beneath her foot as Cindy got a sample of Jen’s rank foot directly.
After the two minutes were up Cindy dizzily crawled out from under Jen’s foot and everyone clapped. They all insisted that Jen put her shoe back on before they all suffocated. The game continued, though Jen had lost all interest. For the next few turns each girl chose truth instead of dare. Finally Marty chose dare and of course Cindy insisted she smell Jen’s foot as well. Instantly the chant went up again. Jen tried to stop it, but her voice was drowned out by the other yelling girls.
Marty bravely took Jen’s foot in hand and pulled off the shoe. She then pulled off the other shoe and sock as well until she held both of Jen’s bare feet. She raised the soles in front of her face forcing Jen to lay back onto her elbows. The girls continued to chant loudly as Marty placed her nose in the hollow formed by Jen’s arches. Suddenly the cabin went deathly quiet as they all waited to hear the tell tale first sniff. When it finally came it was very loud indeed and sent all the girl squealing in hilarity and revulsion.
Marty bellowed an inarticulate sound of loathing following her initial sniff. Jen was so embarrassed she felt she might pass out! Marty moved her nose all over the bottom of Jen’s feet … first smelling her toes then her heel then every inch of her soles. Each sniff was punctuated by a choke, cough or groan of disgust. Lastly she spread Jen’s toes and sniffed between her big toe and second toe.
“Oh GOD!” Marty screamed, “I can’t do this anymore … its awful!”
“Thirty more seconds!” Cindy yelled, “You can’t stop yet!” Cindy scrambled across the floor and pushed Marty’s face into Jen’s soles. Marty’s nose poked between the toes she was just smelling. All the girl’s dog-piled on Marty, holding her in place, forcing her to keep sniffing. Jen was near the point of tears.
“Two minutes!” one of the girls yelled and they finally let Marty go. Marty stumbled to the other side of the cabin casting dirty looks at all of her friends. The last most scornful look she saved for Jen. “Your so freakin’ gross Jen! Your feet smell like Mrs. Cumber’s butt!” Mrs. Cumber was a large fat woman from their school, and this sent all the girls into fits of laughter. “Shut up!” Jen yelled at all of them. She wasn’t sure who said it first, but they all took up the sing-song chant, “Stinky-Feet-Woletski … Stinky-Feet-Woletski!”
The worst thing of all was that the nickname name had stuck and spread through camp by the next day. Girls would walk by Jen plugging their noses and then laughing after she had passed. Jen was mortified beyond reason. Maybe it wasn’t such a big deal, but to her it was the whole world.
Jen hadn’t thought of that incident since she was little. Could that have something to do with why she was so freaked out? No, there was something else … something else she wasn’t remembering.
Jen’s brow furrowed as she sat deep in thought. Claire took note of the woman’s introspective mood. Obviously Mrs. Simmons was having a memory triggered by the question. It only took but a span of moments for Jen’s memory to play the incident out on the screen of her mind. During which time Claire sat patiently. After some time had passed, Claire felt it was appropriate to intercede. “Are you willing to help me help your marriage?”
Jen seemed startled momentarily and for an instant her face was open and innocent. As she slowly came back to the present her guarded countenance returned and she again scowled at Claire.
“Just make my husband knock it off and everything should be peachy.”
Both women sat in silence for a number of minutes. Jen glanced at her watch and began to tap her foot and drum her fingers on the arm rest of the chair. Well then, Claire thought, I’ll just have to shock her out of her attitude. Let’s push some buttons and see if she jumps …
“Do you like to suck cock in public?” she asked pleasantly. Jen’s eyes grew large and her mouth dropped open.
“What?” she stammered.
“Do you like to have a large cock fucking your mouth where someone could walk in on you? Have you ever had a man cum on your face in a public place? A restaurant bathroom maybe … or a phone both? Have you ever been anally penetrated by … let’s say … a janitor at the school you work at? Maybe in the boiler room … or in the gym by the basketball coach?”
“How dare you!” Jen shrieked.
“I most certainly have not!”
“How about with your husband? Have you ever given him a handjob during Christmas dinner at your parents house maybe … in the front seat of the car while he was driving? Would you like to masturbate for me right now?”
“I’ll sue you! You fucking bitch .. who the hell do you think you are? I swear I’ll …”
Jen’s tirade was cut short as Claire pulled a sizable silicon dildo from her desk drawer and thumped it on her desktop. “You could use this … my assistant should be due back any minute now … she might walk in on us so you’ll have to be prepared for that. Take my word of it … this is a very effective toy as you can see.”
Jen was struck speechless. Her eyes flickered from the giant dong to Claire and then back again. Her face flushed and Claire noticed tiny drops of sweat forming on her upper lip and forehead. An image forced its way into Jen’s mind … that of herself, nude from the waist down sitting in her chair, both legs spread wide and hooked over the sides of the arm rests, the dildo clutched in her hand working its way in and out of her pussy, the therapist watching casually from behind her desk. Instantly she was soaking through her panties. Before she knew what she was doing she stood up. Regaining reason she sat back down abruptly.
“Maybe some incentive is in order,” the therapist said as she stood and reclaimed the dildo from the desk. Jen remained frozen in her chair as the woman approached her. The dildo was offered and she took it in a daze. Now with both hands free, the therapist slowly began to unbutton the front of Jen’s blouse. In seconds her bra was unsnapped and her breasts fell free. Jen continued to remain in shock as her skirt was pulled down to her ankles and then off. Her panties followed suit. Jen was now nude save for her stockings, garters and mules. As in the erotic image Jen had pictured, the therapist lifted each of her legs, one at a time, onto the armrests. Now Jen was spread and her pussy began to drip a puddle on the leather seat.
The therapist then turned and crossed the office to the window. She pulled a cord and the shades lifted, filling the room with daylight. Jen could see passersby on the street outside and knew she was completely visible. Returning to her desk, the therapist sat and again looked at Jen. A man, and what looked to be his daughter, crossed the street and began to unlock his car. The girl, who couldn’t have been more than twelve years old, looked into Mrs. Evans’s office and spotted Jen. She quickly notified her father and the man turned to see what his daughter was fussing about.
Before Jen took time to consider the situation she hiked her knees up higher and plunged the dildo, hilt deep, into her sopping pussy. In a frenzy she began to fuck herself with wild abandon. The look of shock on the pedestrians’ faces spurned her to an even more elevated height of passion. With her free hand she inserted a finger in her rectum and wiggled it as she administered the punishment of the dildo. Seeming to regain his composure, the man covered the eyes of his smiling daughter and bundled her into the car. He spared a moment to stare at Jen in further shock before climbing into his vehicle and speeding away.
Jen had engaged in sexual activities in public more times than she could remember, but this was the first time she was actually seen by someone. The actualization of her fantasy was almost more than she could bare. Jen returned her attention to the therapist and locked eyes with the woman. With her mouth agape and panting, she initiated a staring contest with Claire. Her eyes dared the therapist to look away. Jen was unaware as words pored from her own mouth.
“Look at my pussy, bitch … do you like watching me fuck myself, bitch? You wanna suck my tits, you wanna lick my asshole? You wanna fuck me?”
“I’d like to see you suck his cock,” Claire responded.
Jen jerked her head to the side to see her husband hovering in the doorway. The look of naked surprise on his face aroused her even more.
“Please come in, Mr. Simmons,” he therapist said in a conversational tone. Brad entered the office still looking at his wife, unbelieving of what he saw. As he passed her on the way to the other chair, Jen pulled her fingers from her ass, grabbed his belt loop violently and fumbled his pants open. In a flash his soft penis was in her mouth and she was sucking hard. Her eyes remained open, looking at the therapist behind her desk. Jen felt Brad’s cock growing erect in her mouth and she bobbed her head faster, sliding its full length down into her throat. She choked, but forced it even deeper, her eyes watering.
“Can you make him cum, Mrs. Simmons? Spray it on your face,” the therapist suggested in an infuriating normal tone.
“How ‘bout you come over her and I’ll stick it up your ass, you whore!” Jen taunted before thrusting Brad’s cock back into her mouth.
“Jen!” Brad yelped in dismay.
Saliva dripped down Jen’s chin as she worked his cock like a woman devoid of sanity, which wasn’t far from the truth. Her hand worked the dildo like a piston, slamming its full length in and out of her cunt.
“Oh God! Put it in my ass .. NOW … HURRY!” Jen screamed.
Brad, caught in the moment, quickly maneuvered to the front of her chair and bent his knees until the head of his cock was level with her anus. Jen pulled her knees until they touched her chest and with both hands roughly pulled him forward, screaming as her ass was filled. Brad began to ride her hard and deep as Jen coached him to go faster. Soon Jen was nearing orgasm, her nails digging into the soft flesh of Brad’s sides.
Unexpectedly Jen felt a tugging on her shoes. Her clouded mind tried to clear itself. Both shoes were pulled off her feet followed by her stockings. Jen looked past Brad’s shoulder to see the therapist dropping them to the floor. Next she circled behind Jen’s chair and leaned forward over her. The therapist’s heavy breasts weighted on top of Jen’s head and then slid down in front of her face. For a moment Jen was blinded beneath them. Her senses were filled with the therapist’s feminine scent, body lotion and a hint of musky perspiration. Jen then felt the woman’s hands encircling her ankles and her legs being lifted. Before she could stop it, Jen felt Brad’s nose slip between her toes and sniff deeply. “NO!” she yelled in anger.
Brad’s scream masked her exclamation and she felt his cock quickly pulled from her anus. The therapist moved and suddenly Jen could see again… just in time for her face to be bathed with semen. The therapist’s face hovered to her right and Jen watched as a burst of cum from her husband’s cock splashed the front of her blouse and spattered her chin. The therapist quickly moved towards Brad and again grabbed her ankles. Jen tried to kick but the woman held her firmly and offered the soles again to Brad. He lustfully sniffed her rank feet as her pumped his spewing cock. Again Jen tried to pull her feet away, but the therapists grip was like steel. The sinking feeling returned in the pit of her stomach and something like a repressed memory wavered on the edge of her perception. Something seemingly monumental threatened to break through to her conscious mind. She had a brief image of trees and a path and then quite abruptly the memory that had been teasing her mind like a ghost from the past came crashing home:
It was the final day of camp and Jen had taken about all she could stand of the teasing and name calling. Choruses of “Stinky-Feet-Woletski” echoed in her head. Returning for a very long solo hike she again entered the camp from the less populated side. She stomped towards the first set of cabins like a rumbling thunderhead. All the other girls were in the arts and crafts building and Jen had hopes that the area would be deserted.
When Jen had turned the corner behind one of the cabins, a girl who she only knew by name stepped out from behind a tree. The girl was Anna Mitchner, or Mitchell … Jen wasn’t sure. She was a small, gangly girl with fuzzy blonde hair and thick glasses. She was pretty in a plain way, but the glasses labeled her as a dork in her classmates eyes.
“You’re Jennifer Woletski, right?” she had asked timidly.
“Ya … so?” Jen had responded.
“Can I ask you something?”
“What?” Jen asked suspiciously.
“I’ve heard what everyone says about you … ya, know, about your … ahh … “ the girl glanced down towards Jen’s shoes meaningfully.
“Go get stuffed!” Jen had barked and started to stalk away.
“No … wait. Can I … can I smell them?” the girl seemed shocked at what she herself had just asked, but stood her ground, blocking the path.
Jen had been too angry for words at first. She merely glowered at the girl, her fists clenched at her sides. “Who put you up to this!??” she finally shouted.
The girl flinched back and her cheeks colored. “No one, I swear …”
“Well its not funny!” Jen had yelled close to tears.
“I just … I just want to … that’s all …” the girl had said in a near whisper, backing away.
“OK,” Jen had sneered maliciously, “you want to smell my feet, huh? You think that’s funny, huh? Fine, you’re going to smell stinky feet! You’re going to smell my feet for real! That won’t be too funny will it!” Jen had grabbed the girl and pushed her into the bushes. Little Amanda went down with a scream of surprise … her glasses flying from her face. “Now you can tell all your dumb friends that it wasn’t so funny after all!” Jen kicked off her hiking shoes and jumped on the prone girl.
There was a brief struggle but Jen easily overpowered the smaller girl. Reaching down, Jen yanked off one of her socks. She was pleased to feel that it was damp and crusty from her hike. Good, she thought, she how funny she thinks this is! With her free hand, Jen crammed the sock into Anna’s mouth. “Taste that!” she shouted. The girl’s eyes grew comically wide and she made a grunting sound from behind the sock. “What’s wrong, jerk … sock got your tongue?” Jen quipped.
Quickly Jen pulled off her other shoe and sock and spun around so she was sitting on the girl’s pelvis. “That’s right … Stinky-Feet-Woletski and her smelly feet!” Jen yelled as she smacked both of her unwashed, sweaty feet onto the girl’s face. She rubbed them back and forth over the girls nose … spreading her toes and letting the toejam smear on the girls forehead and cheeks. “Smell ‘em! Smell my stinky feet! You like that, jerk! Smell ‘em!”
Jen could hear the girl sniffing and for a moment she was pleased with her revenge. Jen’s feet were slimy with sweat and foot-funk and slid effortlessly over the smaller girl’s skin. Then she noticed that the girl was smiling around the sock in her mouth. Her eyes closed and she had the look of bliss on her face. Jen started to pull her feet away in confusion, but the girl grabbed both of her ankles and sniffed again deeply. “NO!” Jen had screamed, “Stop it! Let go!” But the girl kept sniffing. Jen’s confusion began to turn to fear. She had no idea what was happening but it scared her nonetheless. She tried to roll away, but the angle was too awkward to brace herself for efficient movement.
When it was obvious that the girl would not let go, Jen’s fear and confusion turned to fascination and she gazed enrapt at the geeky girl sniffing her feet and toes. She relaxed her legs and watched in stunned amazement as this strange little girl slowly explored every part of her feet with deep and loud sniffs. Each of her toes was spread in turn, the girl sniffing in between. Jen could also hear her sucking and slurping on the sock in her mouth. The little weirdo is sucking up all of my foot sweat, Jen marveled.
Her attention was broken by a sound on the trail behind her. Jen turned her head to see a group of girls approaching. Before she could act they saw what was transpiring. All of them gapped and covered their mouths in surprise. At first the guilty sensation of being caught doing something bad flooded through Jen. Her adrenaline began to pump. Then she instantly became excited for the same reason she had felt guilty. She watched the girls watch her and Anna and her scalp began to prickle and butterflies danced in her stomach. It was hard not to smile … it was a wonderful feeling.
Then one of the girls began to giggle. Soon they were all laughing and pointing. Jen fell to her side as Anna rolled from beneath her. The girl’s face was bright red with embarrassment. She looked back and forth between Jen and the group of cackling females obviously in panic. Quite suddenly she burst into tears and ran off down the path. The group of girls began the sing-song litany of “Stinky-Feet-Woletski” and Jen snapped. She waded into the group with flying fists … dropping each face she came in contact with. The girls were too shocked to defend themselves and ran crying down the path to seek safety with the camp counselors.
The word of Jen’s attack traveled fast and needless to say that was the last time she had heard the dread nickname of Stinky-Feet-Woletski. For some reason, Jen had buried this memory deep in her subconscious. Ever since then she had been self-conscious of her foot odor, but had never dwelled on the reason way. It had always seemed self evident.
So there it was … after all these years.
Once again it took only moments for the full impact of the repressed memories to run their course. Brad had just finished cumming and Jen was totally covered in the stuff. Her husband sagged against the desk looking abashed and guilty beyond reason. His cock was still fully erect and appeared swollen and raw. Jen turned her gaze to the therapist still standing beside her Brad. The woman’s eyes drifted back and forth between the two of them. Jen was filled with anger and loathing for the woman, but every time her eyes settled on her own naked and cum drenched body she felt a shiver of excitement. Jen looked down at her own feet and realized she could smell them in the air. The rank aroma of her unwashed feet sent a twinge of shame and embarrassment that rippled across the euphoric surface generated by the therapist’s inspection of her nude form.
Upon hearing the office door open behind her, Jen was again swamped by the overwhelming excitement of being caught. She could smell the assistant’s perfume and an under current of clean sweat before she entered the room. Hadn’t the therapist mentioned that the assistant was out jogging … I’m not surprised she sweating … its hot as heck out there, Jen thought distractedly.
“Mrs. Evans?” the assistant asked hesitantly.
“Yes Betty, please come in won’t you?” the therapist said with a smile.
She may have seen Brad but she hasn’t seen me yet, Jen thought in excitement. The high backed, leather chair was most certainly obscuring the assistant’s view. Wait till she sees me naked and covered with my husband cum! I can’t wait to see the look on her face! Without realizing it, Jen began to masturbate slowly … all previous misgivings from a moment ago forgotten.
“Please pull up the reclining couch and grab the restraints from the store room, Betty. I’ll be needing your assistance as well, so be quick about it. Thank you.” Most of this exchange was lost on Jen. She was still in high expectation of revealing herself to the assistant. The therapist then looked down at her and she slowly emerged from the depths of her sexual revelry. “There’s something else I would like to try during this session Mrs. Simmons, so bare with us a bit longer …” Something in the therapists look gave Jen that sinking feeling again. What was this “something” she was referring to? Jen jumped as the sound of the couch scraped up beside her chair. She looked to her left and caught a fleeting glimpse of the assistant as she bent down to fix something to the side of the couch.
“If you wouldn’t mind helping me with Mrs. Simmons, Betty …” Jen felt herself grabbed firmly underneath her armpit. She looked up in panic to see the assistant bending over her. This woman’s the spitting image of Betty Paige, Jen thought off-hand, her name suits her; then she was hauled from the chair. Jen looked with dawning horror at the reclining couch, now prepared with what looked to be canvas and steel restraints. The therapist grabbed her other arm and the two woman began to lead her towards the couch. Brad looked on as his wife fought to free herself.
“Let me go dammit! Brad, fucking do something!”
“Just calm yourself, Mrs. Simmons, this is for the good of your marriage,” Jen heard the therapist remark.
“Fuck you!” Jen retorted as her bare ass thumped onto the leather couch. Now that she was closer she saw that it was not a normal couch at all but some kind of … well, she couldn’t tell what.
“Could you help me with the straps, Betty?”
“Yes, Mrs. Evans.”
PART 3 – FINAL
Before Jen could utter another word the assistant roughly slammed her backward onto the couch. All previous thoughts of sexual gratification to be gained by the assistant seeing her naked were now gone. Jen felt the cool leather stick to her sweaty back and buttocks. While Jen was concentrating on freeing herself from the assistant’s steely grasp, the therapist quickly strapped both of her bare ankles to the couch. In a second, Betty the assistant, had also secured both of her wrists by pulling her arms down the length of the couch legs and lopping her hands through canvas and leather harnesses. With her arms pulled in such a manner, her breasts poked out dramatically leaving her with an incredibly vulnerable sensation.
“That should do nicely,” Evans’s said clinically, “Thank you, Betty. Are you comfortable Mrs. Simmons … nothing pinching?”
“Let me go you fucking bitch!” Jen spat in growing horror, “you can’t fucking do this! BRAD!”
Jen was disheartened to see Brad looking at the therapist subserviently and ignoring her pleas for assistance.
“Now let’s silence the chatter, shall we, Betty?”
“Yes, Mrs. Evans … ”
Jen’s eyes bulged as a rubber bit was placed in her mouth and secured to the head of the couch by an attached canvas strap. Another strap followed across her forehead … completely immobilizing her head and neck. Mrs. Evans and her assistant stood back to admire their handy work.
“Will that be all, Mrs. Evans?”
“No Betty, please stay … ” The therapist sat down on a desk chair and wheeled herself to the couch-side. Jen’s eyes tried to roll far enough over to see what she was doing. Jen felt, more than saw, a drawer being opened on the side of this weird-ass couch. Mrs. Evans inspected the contents, closed it and opened another one. She continued to rummage in the drawer humming quietly to herself. “Oh, Betty, could you please adjust Mrs. Simmons stirrups for vaginal access? We call this couch The Positioner, Mrs. Simmons … you should experience no discomfort during the realigning, I assure you.”
Jen’s wild eyes rolled to follow Betty as she approached the foot of the couch. Kneeling down, the assistant reached under the lip of the couch end and Jen heard an audible click. She also noted that the assistant wrinkled her nose in disgust and coughed slightly. Her nose had come a mere inch from the tips of Jen’s bare toes and she had obviously gotten a whiff of their unwashed fragrance. Jen again felt the deep pang of humiliation centered around the issue of her foot aroma.
This was quickly forgotten as Jen felt her legs spreading! The couch end swung open in a V, spreading her legs until her hips creaked. Another click and her knees were bending and coming up towards her chest. The couch rocked a bit as the stirrups locked into place. Jen was now completely spread, with both her anal and vaginal openings exposed. She struggled fruitlessly to free her legs, yet both were still securely fastened to each padded, full leg stirrup.
Meanwhile, Brad watched the proceedings with mounting excitement. A part of him relished the scene of his wife’s humiliation. She’d been such an extreme, selfish bitch these last months and here was her assumed punishment. He couldn’t think past the end of the session … but right now he was gratified beyond belief. He then realized that not only was he gratified within those feelings of vengeance, but painfully aroused as well. This sensation was peeked when he witnessed what Mrs. Evans pulled from the drawer in The Positioner.
“Ah … here we are,” the therapist murmured. Jen’s eyes grew to the size of saucers as an enormous rubber dong filled her vision. The dildo was monstrously large and neon pink in color. It was sculpted to resemble a penis complete with veins and bulging head. Its twelve inches wobbled in the therapists had as she wheeled the chair towards the foot of The Positioner. After a few more scoots in the chair, the therapist was positioned between Jen’s legs and nearly at eye level with her vagina and anus. “Could you grab the K-Y lubricant from the third drawer as well as the silicon implement labeled “Intruder”, Betty?” While Betty rummaged in the side of The Positioner she smiled reassuringly down at Jen. To Jen her calm smile was maddening.
“Now, Mrs. Simmons, I would like you to listen very closely. You are now completely helpless and literally at our mercy … so you might as well relax. I would like to try a treatment that I think may be helpful in your case. I realize that it was your husband who originally approached me for treatment but after careful deliberation I find that it is you who is in need of treatment. This first step we will undertake this afternoon should facilitate a beginning to your road of recovery. Now relax your vagina for me please … ”
Brad watched as Mrs. Evans, with one smooth motion, pushed the entire length of the dong into Jen’s pussy. His wife’s eyes bulged as the dildo buried itself until the flange was resting against her small mound of pubic hair; whether from pain or shock, or a little of both, Brad could not ascertain.
“Very good, Mrs. Simmons,” Mrs. Evans smiled sweetly, “that was very good indeed.”
“Will you be needing these now, Mrs. Evans?” Betty inquired while offering over the items claimed from the drawer. Brad’s eyes feel upon “The Intruder” at the same moment as Jen’s. The Intruder was a good six inches in length and jet black. It started from a tapered tip and bulged out in a cone shape to what appeared to be a girth of four inches at its fullest point. Beyond the height of the cone’s flair, it again tapered off in a sudden ridge to a girth of an inch or so … beyond that was a flange somewhat like that on the dildo. “Thank you Betty … please pull a stool up beside Mrs. Simmon’s head.”
Brad circled around behind the therapist and watched as she applied a generous amount of the K-Y Jelly to his wife’s anus. Still holding the end of the dildo embedded in Jen’s pussy with one hand, the therapist took hold of The Intruder and placed the tip lightly against the puckered anus beneath. “I suggest you relax again, Mrs. Simmons.”
Pushing from her shoulder, Mrs. Evans jammed The Intruder against Jen’s asshole. At first it only moved an inch or so. Brad heard Jen scream from behind her gag and watched as Betty began to soothingly stroke her hair. Mrs. Evan pushed again with doubled effort and The Intruder slid in another two inches. Brad saw that his wife’s anus was now stretched out to, at the very least, an inch and a half in diameter. The therapist then began to wiggle The Intruder from side to said with a quick jerky action then pausing to turn it back and forth in a grinding motion. With another heave Mrs. Evans buried another two inches up his wife’s rectum.
The Intruder was now almost all the way in. Jen’s anus was now almost completely stretched to accommodate the full four inches of the cone’s summit. With another twisting motion, Mrs. Evans forced the remaining inch into Jen’s asshole utterly submerging the cone in her rectum. Brad watched in lustful fascination as his wife’s anus lethargically tightened around the inch thick stalk beneath the cone. Then with a final shove, Mrs. Evans pushed until the stalk disappeared as well leaving only the flange.
“I’ll now be stimulating your colon, Mrs. Simmons.”
Brad noted two holes in the end of the flange. With a flourish, Mrs. Evan plugged two wires into these receptacles. Brad’s eyes followed the therapist’s hands as they moved down toward two dials on the side of The Positioner. Both dials were marked with numerals of 1 to 10 in small white characters. The therapist slowly began to two both in unison. This action was soon followed by a dull humming sound and Brad could see the flange of The Intruder was vibrating. Mrs. Evans turned the dials to 4 and the humming sound grew in volume.
Jen’s toes began to clench and spread as her inner ass was vibrated by The Intruder. “Unique sensation is it not, Mrs. Simmons?” the therapist inquired. She noted the reaction of Mrs. Simmon’s feet and toes and turned the dials to max. The humming sound grew again in pitch and Jen’s feet began to kick and quiver. She made a visual inspection of the patient’s face and noted her eyes were near glassy and staring at the ceiling. A thin sheen of sweat covered her brow and cheeks. Getting a tighter hold on the pink dildo, Mrs. Evans began to pull it in and out of the patient’s vagina. She could feel the pink, rubber cock vibrating under her grasp. The Intruder’s pulse was traveling through the thin wall separating the anus and vaginal canal lending its vibration to the pink dong. Sharp grunts and muffled moans began to issue from beneath the patient’s gag. Mrs. Evans noted the patient’s nostrils flaring with each deep intake of breath.
By this point Jen was in a world of pure sensation. The initial insertion of the giant pink dildo was painful and wonderful all in one. Jen had never been so filled in her life. But things had taken a turn for the worse when she set eyes upon The Intruder. She knew from first glance where it was meant to go. When its tip had brushed her asshole she had immediately clenched up. The thick dildo in her pussy made her muscular control shaky and she was only able to maintain for a second or two. The moment she was forced to relax the first inch had been forced in. Nothing so large had ever entered her rectum and the pain was exquisite. Like nothing she would have expected. The dull ache had turned to a seering pain as each inch traveled up her tortured ass. At one point she had been close to passing out, but the final push, which had expanded her once tight anus to an unbearable four inches, shocked her back from the brink.
The vibration began moments later and was followed by several mini and uncontrollable orgasms. When the dildo began to plum her pussy she thought she would die from sexual overload! But then the therapist was saying something … Jen struggle to pay attention but it was nearly impossible. Finally the wretched woman’s words began to filter through the haze.
“Can you hear me Mrs. Simmons? We are now ready to move on to the next phase of this treatment and I would like your full attention. Please open you eyes.”
Jen slowly opened her eyes and the vision of Betty the assistant blurred into focus. She was perched on a stool beside the couch.
“Betty, will you please remove your running shoes and the socks beneath.”
DEAR GOD! Jen’s mind screamed in panic … NOT THIS! PLEASE NOT THIS!
“My shoes and socks?” Betty asked in an unsure voice.
Betty slowly began to unlace her jogging shoes and pulled them off one at a time. Jen’s eyes were helpless glued to the spectacle of the woman removing her white socks. The feet beneath looked red and damp with sweat. Betty tucked her socks into her shoes and placed them on the floor.
“Now please place both of your feet on the patient’s face, allowing enough space for her to breath.”
“I haven’t showered since the day before yesterday, Mrs. Simmons … and of course I just went jogging … ” the assistant said in a somewhat hesitant and apologetic tone.
“Perfect, Betty … more the better …”
“Oh ya … make her smell them!” Brad suddenly piped in.
“Please Mr. Simmons …”
“Sorry … ” Brad mumbled sheepishly.
“Betty … ?”
Betty slowly lifted her feet above Jen’s face. The two women’s eyes locked momentarily and Betty exchanged an apologetic look with Jen. “Sorry, Miss, Doctor’s Orders.” And then Jen was in hell.
The first sniff of the woman’s feet hit Jen like an explosion. The woman’s feet were an abomination. They were rank and pungent, covered with a layer of slimy foot-funk. Bits of sock fuzz were embedded in her instep and on her slightly callused heel. Jen could see that the soles of her feet were mostly a rosy hue, yet yellowed in certain spots. As the assistant wiggled her toes, bits of toejam sprinkled Jen’s face. The feet lowered another inch until they were resting lightly on her face .. her nose buried beneath the reeking toe cleavage.
“Deep sniffs, Mrs. Simmons … smell Betty’s feet thoroughly.” The therapist began to jam the dildo faster and harder. Jen was unable to concentrate enough to hold her breath. She was forced to sniff the nasty aroma of this woman’s filthy, unwashed feet. Jen’s nostrils quivered beneath the torturous foulness of the assistant’s reeking peds. Tendrils of odiferous foot-stink burned through Jen’s very being until her eyes were watering from the intense stench of the dirty feet.
“Please fuck your wife, Mr. Simmons.”
Jen felt the huge dildo removed. For a moment, the assistant’s feet hovered enough for Jen to see Brad positioning himself eagerly between her legs, then the slimy soles descended again. She felt Brad’s rock hard prick sliding effortlessly into her gushing pussy. The second he was inside of her, Brad began to ride her hard and mean. He fucked with wild abandon. When Jen thought she was as humiliated and tortured as she could be a new horrid stench assaulted her. She looked up to see another pair of bare feet toying with her nose. These feet were huge … and the smell … it was like nothing she had ever sniffed. They were twice the stench of the assistant’s feet and without seeing the face that went with them, Jen knew they belonged to the therapist.
These new feet were much more instant than the assistant’s stinky hooves. The toes played with her nose and the soles rubbed themselves over her face. The heels were offered up for her forced sniffing inspection as were the toejam filed crevices between each of the long, thick toes. The foot scum from this new pair of feet caused the skin of Jen’s face to sting incessantly at first contact.
Then the therapist, using her chubby toes, pulled the tip of Jen’s nose back, opening the airways further. Betty’s toes then spread beneath Jen’s now gaping nostrils issuing forth a tide of rancid and vinegary foot aroma. Soon all four feet were crowding for room above her tormented, flaring nostrils. She was literally drowning in a vaporous cloud of rank, dirty feet. Brad continued to fuck her as The Intruder vibrated her body from her asshole inward. This is what hell must be like, Jen thought to herself.
Then the worst thing of all began to happen. She felt it deep in the pit of her stomach. At first it was a warm fluttery sensation … then it began to spread. She felt her pussy tightening and the muscles lining her anus began to quiver in unison. This can’t be happening, her mind screamed! She tried to fight it, but the warm feeling continued to spread. She took even deeper sniffs of the four wretched feet, actively smelling them and drawing as much of their foul foot odor into her lungs as she could manage. She pictured her mothers stinky feet … she pictured smelling them … she pictured smelling her sisters feet and licking the sweat and toe jam from between her toes. She imagined smelling all of the feet of her students and fellow teachers at school. Jen conjured every horrible, revolting image of stinky feet she could think of to intensify the terrible experience… but the warm sensation in her stomach continued to grow and intensify despite her efforts. It wasn’t working!
Jen then felt two sets of hands on her breasts … fondling. Both of her nipples were suddenly grabbed and pinched roughly … then twisted. It was too much to hold back. The flood gates opened and Jen was cumming! Wave after wave of her orgasm swept over her. Her body shook in frightening ecstasy, each muscle tightening until her entire body was livid. Then the convulsions began in earnest as Jen was ravaged by the most titanic orgasm she had yet to experience.
Amazingly enough, amidst the maelstrom, Jen sensed Brad’s nose pressed against the soles of her feet. She could feel the air passing through her toes as he sniffed her stinky foot reek. She felt his cock shuddering and then exploding inside of her. She could feel his cum filling her pussy and dripping down the crack of her ass and pooling around the flange of The Intruder. She hadn’t noticed at first … but now she was only smelling the assistants feet.. the therapist had left her seat.
Jen then felt a virtual explosion in her ass as The Intruder was roughly yanked out. Her anus was cruelly spread from one inch to four as her anus cleared the ridge. Instead of the dull ache following the removal, another orgasm hit just as the last big one was fading. This one was much shorter and less intense, but it left her a quivering heap of flesh nonetheless.
When Jen awoke sometime later, Brad was helping her get dressed. The assistant was no longer in the office and The Positioner was pushed back against the wall from whence it came again appearing as an innocent piece of furniture. Mrs. Evans sat smugly behind her desk watching Jen with a knowing smile. Jen was too exhausted and in shock to vocalize any of the confusing thoughts that fluttered through her mind like nervous birds. Though she couldn’t focus on the meaning of the words … certain vague phrases seemed to float through her mind like wisps of smoke. Jen tried to piece them together but could only glean that these phrases had been spoken by the therapist, Mrs. Evans. Had she been talking to Brad or myself while I was unconscious? Jen couldn’t be sure … but she thought it was a close guess.
The drive home with Brad was one of uncomfortable silence. She and Brad did not talk during the following week. Jen had quickly contacted a lawyer concerning Mrs. Evans the day following the session and had a meeting set for the next Thursday.
The day of Jen’s scheduled meeting with the attorney, a package arrived as she was on her way out. It arrived in a plain brown wrapper without a return address. Jen signed for the parcel and brought it into the kitchen. Using a knife from the cutting block she slit the tape and removed the box within. It seemed so light Jen wondered if anything was inside. As she pulled back the flaps of the box, a noxious and fetid odor spilled forth. Within the dark confines of the box were a pair of tan stockings and what looked to be yellowed ankle socks. The dank, heady reek of feet spilled forth in cloying tendrils which invaded Jen’s nostrils. Before she could stop herself she had already sniffed twice. The two sniffs were enough to recognize the pong of Mrs. Evans’ rancid tootsies.
At first Jen was furious … then terrified. Her pussy was quivering on the verge of an instant orgasm and she had already soaked through her cotton panties. What has that horrible woman done to me! I won’t sue her … that’s too kind for mind fucking me like this! I’ll pay her back in spades … and that pervert of a husband is going to help me … whether he likes it or not. That bitch is gonna be sorry!