SERVING THE NEIGHBOR'S FEET

SERVING THE NEIGHBOR'S FEET
Author Unkown

I have always had a thing for bossy older women. I recently moved
into a fairly spacious new condo in a nice suburban neighborhood,
where I live next door to Ms. Margaret, an attractive divorced
Southern Belle in her late 40s. She has always been very friendly and
a bit of a flirt; we weren't really interested in one another, but she
was frequently asking me to come over and do little favors for her:
hooking up her tv or helping her move furniture around the living
room. I enjoyed her company and sort of liked having her playfully
order me around.

One evening we both arrived home at the same time and ran into
one another outside our doors. She showed me a note that there was a
large package for her at the front office downstairs, and asked me the
favor of carrying it up for her.

I cheerfully agreed, and returned a few minutes later, hauling a 30
pound box from a mail order catalog. She thanked me sincerely and
invited me in for a drink.

"I really appreciate your help, " she said, offering me a seat on the
couch while she took a seat herself in a reclining chair. "I've been
stuck in these heels since 8AM and my feet are killing me." She
looked down at her feet, covered with tan stockings and green leather
pumps with sharp 2-inch heels, and slowly twisted and flexed her
shapely ankles.

"I could give you a foot massage," I offered.

"Well, that sounds nice, but i have to warn you that my feet must
smell pretty gross and disgusting by now." I swallow nervously but
insisted a foot rub would be no trouble at all. Somehow I find myself
sitting on the floor with her feet in my lap. They are narrow but
long, size 9.

"Well all right then, here are my feet and if you would please help me
-off- with these tight sweaty pumps, thaat's right, aah that cool air
feels good on my stocking toes. So stinky! I can smell them all the
way up here, how can you stand it down there, mmm that feels nice."

I sit down there for a long time, rubbing her poor tired sweaty stinky
stocking feet.

+Her feet are so stinky and disgusting that my eyes water and my nose
wrinkles involuntarily from being up so close to them. But still I
sit there on the floor, continuing her foot rub, massaging her sweaty
soles and arches while she absent-mindedly wiggles her reinforced
nylonned toes just inches from my face. Her foot sweat makes the tan
hose cling to her red toenail-polished toes.

"Don't be shy, smell my feet," she announced, as if it were the most
natural request in the world. "They're so rank and nasty. I can't
believe how stinky they get. I guess it'd help if I washed my feet
once in a while, or changed my stockings. Oh well, too bad for you,
guess you'll get to find out how they smell all up close and
personal." She curled her toes and rubbed the balls and arches of her
stockinged feet together, unleashing another reeking wave of foot odor
with the friction of her stockings.

"Tell me what part smells the worst. Find out which part of my foot
smells the stinkiest. A woman wants to know these kinds of things.
Is it smelliest between my toes, or how about the bottoms of my feet,
what do they smell like? Here, take a good whiff of my nylon foot
bottoms, press your nose up against those reinforced toes. Now smell
my sweaty arches and footsoles and stockinged heels. Do you like my
stinky nylons? Do you like it when I rub my nylonned soles against
your face? Do you like having your face used as my sweaty foot wipe?"

Oh my god her feet stink, they smell so bad, they're so gross and I
can't believe I'm rubbing them for her and letting her just stick them
in my face like this.

"Can you feel the stiff, gritty patches around the reinforced toes of
the stockings, from where my dirty sweat has dried, all mixed up
with old shoe leather and my stinky toe jam?

"Here, why don't you help me off with my stockings? They're
knee-highs, so let me pull up my pants leg and you can roll them
off my bare foot for me, that's right. Now roll them up and put them
in my shoes." A new wave of stinky foot smell pours off of her
sweaty bare feet, more powerful than before. I can clearly see and
smell the slimy glistening sweat on and between her pedicured toes and
covering her pretty wrinkled bare soles.

"Take a whiff of my toe cheese," she says, spreading her sweaty,
gritty, grimy naked toes just inches from my face.

"Don't my feet have a stinky aroma? Don't I have stinky bare feet?
Can't you smell how much stronger it is between my toes, with all that
toe jam and toe cheese from where all the sweat gets trapped between
my stinky toes? Why don't you kiss my foot, no don't just kiss it,
why don't you open your mouth and suck on my toe cheese, stick out
your tongue and get a nice mouthful of toe jam to suck on?" I
couldn't believe I was letting her do this to me, it repulsed and
humiliated me but I loved it. I just let her push her sweaty toes
into my mouth and I licked and sucked out her cheesy toe jam, toe by
toe.

Next she had me lay on my back and lick the bottom of her foot, all
sweaty and stinky, for a very long time. I do a lot of that now.

Most nights now I'm not home for fifteen minutes before the phone
rings, with a request to go next door for Her Majesty's foot massage.
Her pedicured size 9s sweat heavily in her tight pumps, and she wears
the same lethally stinky reinforced-toe knee-highs for days on end.
Some nights after the foot rub she has me smell the sweat-soaked toe
of her stocking or smell inside her shoe. She likes to find out what
shoes give her the strongest foot odor, and wears those most regularly.

Many nights she doesn't send me home until after midnight; she sits up
reading or watching movies while I suffer at her stinky feet,
massaging them, licking them clean and sucking her toe-jam, or just
laying silently with her sweaty, reeking footsoles planted full on my
face.