Sniff and Giggle

Sniff and Giggle

By Author Unknown

My wife and I have been married for ten years now and our relationship is excellent in many ways - particularly under the covers. Karen, a 5’9”, short-haired brunette, is probably the most understanding woman I’ve met. She delights in my foot fetish, including my passionate desire to sniff her beautiful stinky feet, so much that she will deliberately wear the same dark socks for days under her leather heels, teasing me all the while, e.g. “I’ll bet you’d like to sniff my FOOT... wouldn’t you?” with a smirkish grin. She loves the fact that a part of her body can exert such control over a man and, being highly educated, is well aware of the fact that foot fetishism is not only harmless fun, but hardly rare.

I am unabashedly submissive. In addition to the foot fetish, I love to be tied up and tickled mercilessly by the fingertips of a dominant woman. Karen has turned this event into an art form. Usually she’ll bind my hands together, drawing them as far back to the head of the bed as possible, place both ankles in slipknots at the opposite ends, then tie my elbows together before cinching my total helplessness with a tight-fitting blindfold. Often she starts by removing one shoe and sock, preferably pitch black, hover her foot one inch above my face, and ask me which foot it is. If I am incorrect, the tickling begins furiously. If I am correct, she then gives me a second sniff test, then another, and another, until finally I fail. Her tickling method is to lightly caress my skin with circular patterns using her nails, very gradually moving toward the major targets (belly, underarms, feet). One peep, twitch, or giggle out of me and the whole process starts over. Usually these sessions end with her straddling and tickling me while she has an orgasm and/or stroking me to an orgasm. In the case of the latter, she’ll use a start/stop method which continually brings me to the brink of an orgasm and then back again. She can keep this up for 30-40 minutes and she has. Needless to say during such an experience, I am sniffing alternately her left or right bare foot, coupled with verbal chastisement all the while (“sniff my stinky foot, you ticklish little boy”).

Now for the actual story. Karen and I have a number of close friends, some of them women. We’re all in our 30s. Two of her friends are very close to both of us, so much so that they know the intimate details of our sex life. They find it amusing that my wife can bring her husband to his knees with the promise of sniffing her stinky bare foot. They’ve seen me do it on several occasions. Well, one night around two weeks ago we had a party at our house. By around 1:00 a.m., everyone had left except for the two women above (Julia, a cute blue-eyed blonde with the body of a gymnast, and Heather, who looks like my wife only she is three years younger and a bit thinner). They were typically the last ones to leave. But this evening would not be typical by any stretch of the imagination.

“We have a surprise for you, Sam - that is, if you’re willing to be a little adventurous”, said my wife, in front of our two remaining guests, both grinning from ear to ear. They’d had more to drink than me on this particular evening, hence their lack of inhibition. I’d also noticed that the three of them had spent quite a bit of time huddled together earlier in the night, presumably gossiping. Not so. Rather, I was now to find out, they were discussing an experiment they would like to “try out” on me, the presumed goal being to get me hornier than I’d ever been before in my life. Their stated intention, which each of them took a turn to elaborate, was to tie me up in a unique position and then tickle me while I sniffed their feet. This was too good to be true. I obliged, which took less than a nanosecond, and they led me down to a room in the basement (usually where we just store things). In the center of that room was an old military-style cot, two chairs, an ottoman, and a thick rug underneath everything. At the side of the room, perched upon a displaced coffee table, were what appeared to be a large, X-shaped bar with leather cuffs attached to each of its four ends; a blindfold; a ball gag; and a jar of Vaseline.

Glancing back to the cot, I could see that a hole, maybe two inches in diameter, had been cut through the canvas at approximately its midpoint. It didn’t take long to figure out its intended purpose. I also noticed, however, that the material wasn’t really canvas - rather, it appeared to be a thin white sheet, heavily tethered to each of the four sides, so that it was stretched taut.

“Sam, remove your clothes except for your shoes”, was all my wife said. The others nodded, doing their best to keep from laughing. That wonderful rush of embarrassment and humiliation (at least in this context) gave me immediate goose bumps. Without further ado, I removed my clothes. Karen, Julia, and Heather were all fully clothed and wearing shoes. Karen was wearing her favorite old pair of black, chunky pumps without hose (she’d worn them all day and evening and now I knew why); Julia wore Tretorn sneakers without socks, and Heather had on a pair of knee-high brown boots. I couldn’t tell whether she was wearing socks, but one could easily see the outlines of her feet and ankles in those boots.

So there I was, stark naked with only my shoes on in front of three fully clad, smirking women. “I think you know what to do next”, said Heather. That being the case, I proceeded to lie stomach-down on the cot. The hole in the sheet was just big enough to allow my penis and testicles to squeeze through. The sheet was able to support my body weight, although it did give a little, causing me to arch my back. “Good boy. Now, place your hands behind your back and bend your knees forward,” said Julia while, at the same time, my wife placed the blindfold over my eyes, making sure I couldn’t see. The next thing I heard was Heather returning from the table with the X-bar. Slowly and methodically, all three of them carefully secured my wrists and ankles into the cuffs. It was very difficult to move at all based on the structure of the X-bar - any movement in one limb had to be accompanied by movement in the remaining three. The next thing I heard was one of them taking off her belt, which was then strapped over the small of my back, eliminating the possibility of raising my rear end off of the sheet.

Karen militantly announced: “Sam, we are going to play a game with you. You will smell the bare feet of one of us, while the other two tickle and tease you. Every five minutes, we will rotate positions. At the end of each rotation (designated by an egg timer), your task will be to identify whose bare foot you were just sniffing AND whether it was the left or right foot at the end. The egg timer will chirp once at the close of a session, at which time you must verbally declare whose foot and which foot you were kissing and sniffing. You will receive no feedback. Thirty seconds later (allowing the switching of positions), you will hear two successive chirps, indicating the start of the next session. Given 12 such sessions, or rounds, you will thus have four opportunities to smell our feet, although we will take turns with you in a random manner. This will take some practice, but, with experience, we believe you will be able to demonstrate the learning task assigned to you. Two rules: no giggling, and no talking. Either infraction will get you a sharp slap on the ass from whoever happens to be tickling your feet, and the tickling will become more aggressive.

“Your eventual reward will be slow masturbation to orgasm. If, after one hour, you fail to learn the distinct scent of my friends’ bare feet, which I can assure you stink wonderfully (obviously they’d been planning this for days), you will be denied orgasm and released.”

Wow! Was I ready to get started.

Unbeknownst to me, Heather assumed the position of lying on the carpet directly below me. She would have full access to my penis and midsection. My wife brought up a chair directly behind me, sat down, and slowly began to unlace my shoes. Julia placed her chair in front, quickly peeled of her sneakers, and propped her aromatic bare feet - crossed at the ankle - on the ottoman placed near my face. Her bare toes were apparently directly in front of my nose, because I could already ascertain a very pleasant foot odor. “If you strain your neck just a bit, you can kiss them directly.” Doh! She’d made a mistake. I knew that I would be kissing Julia’s feet. No one uttered a word although I am sure she received a good brow-beating from Karen. Besides, I still had to figure out whether I would be kissing the left or right foot at the close of the first session.

Then I heard two successive chirps, sending a rush of blood to my groin.

I started sniffing a pair of warm, damp, wonderfully stinky feet. Although I knew they were Julia’s, she kept switching which foot was crossed over the other, forcing me to regain my concentration repeatedly. Meanwhile, a very deft pair of hands began to lightly caress and tickle my penis and balls, sending a jolt through my helpless body. I could not avoid an initial squeal, precisely at which point I felt a sharp SLAP! Bearing this tickling from underneath - making one feel extremely vulnerable and exposed - was nearly impossible, but not being into pain, I wanted to avoid another slap. This same woman also occasionally tickled my belly and around to my ribs and sides. My god, how could I possibly be so ticklish there!? I then realized the significance of the thin, white sheet. The sensation was similar to having one’s feet tickled wearing stockings or thin socks. This was obviously known to the woman behind me, for she began lightly tickling both feet without removing either sock. The sensation was practically tripled. Thank heavens bodily trembling was allowed. I writhed, trembled and bucked uncontrollably - all to no avail. I was at the profound mercy of twenty tickling fingers, while being distracted by a very stinky bare foot gently working its toes all around my nose (or is it the other way around?).

After five minutes, I heard a “chirp”. I blurted, “Julia’s left foot”. Silence. Oh my god. How was I going to learn anything without any feedback? I thought, as the girls switched positions. They didn’t even breathe hard, making sure their identity could not be known except for the smell of their feet. During this session, out came the Vaseline. This woman - perhaps my wife - generously greased down my swollen member and proceeded to lightly masturbate it while tickling my balls with her other hand. She would switch this pattern abruptly, tickling both sides - then one side and stomach - other side and stomach - penis and stomach - testicles and stomach - etc. Sometimes she used a light stroke, other times she dug in, especially when tickling my ribs. I was in erotic ecstasy. Meanwhile, the next foot tickler decided it was time for one sock to come off, so then my feet were tickled this way for a bit. She made a point of tickling my ankles, shins, and kneecaps also. With a full reach, she was able to tickle my rear end and the vulnerable, ultrasensitive backs of my thighs. How in hell was I supposed to be able to characterize female foot odor with all this going on? Speaking of which, the new pair of feet had quite a different smell than the last pair. This time it was distinctly old worn leather mixed with that luscious perfume from the heavens we call female foot perspiration. GOD! It was so good I almost forgot my task, namely, to identify the source. I hadn’t thought much about it when, all of a sudden, “chirp”. I blubbered, “Uhh, Heather’s left foot.” More shuffling around. Two more chirps. Geez - was I making any progress? I had no idea.

And so the sessions went. I tried to keep track of the number but was beset with too many distractions to have any inkling just where we were in this “experiment”. I did notice, however, that the woman underneath generally began stroking my penis for longer and longer periods of time. On at least four occasions (close to the end, it turns out) I was brought incredibly close to orgasm. The women could tell because I would tremble and buck so violently that the cot nearly flipped over, even though that was not possible. Guess after guess (“Karen’s left foot... Julia’s right foot... Heather’s right foot...”) went unacknowledged.

Finally, after guessing “Karen’s right foot” and what seemed like a temporal eternity, I realized that the woman below me might well be in the process of bringing me to orgasm. She did her share of tickling intermittently, but this individual seemed quite adept at controlling and stretching the limits of my swollen member. Meanwhile I was smelling a most wonderful scent - somewhat boot-like - while both of my bare feet were being tickled furiously. About four minutes into this session (just a guess), I noticed that the woman underneath began stroking my penis with one hand and tickling with the other consistently. This time there was no chirp. I was going to blow if she kept this up for ten more seconds and by the way my body was convulsing, they all knew it. She didn’t stop. The moment had arrived. Amid a growing scream from the depths of my lungs, I began a long, heavy ejaculation which must have covered her entire torso. Uncontrollably and reflexively, my body continued bucking for a few more moments after my orgasm had peaked.

It turned out to be my wife. The woman tickling my feet was Julia. The woman whose lovely feet I’d been kissing and sniffing was Heather.

“How did I do???” I asked, as my blindfold and bonds were being removed. “Two out of 12 - not bad for your first run-through. “First?”, I said. “That’s right”, said my wife, as she lovingly stroked my hair and the others looked on, again giggling. We’re going to do this to you every Friday night from now on - that is, until you’re batting at least .750.”

That sounded good. And indeed, it was the most turned on I’d ever been in my life.