Cafeteria Encounter
(Posted on Wednesday, March 13, 2002)
This story was submitted by Y. C. Chang.

Y. C. Chang
P. O. Box 865, Curitiba, Paraná 80011-970, Brazil

I sat with a dinner tray at my usual corner in the university cafeteria at 7:00 PM.   A dark haired girl came to my side, "I am  horny.  I need a man."

"Sit down please!  Do you want to get a tray of  dinner?" was my answer.

"Can you give me 'The Man'?"

"There are so many men  around here!" ducking into my favorite asopau del jueye.

"Can you skip your dinner and come with me?"

This was an unusual demand.   I stood up, "What is your name?"

"Gloria. Third year biology. So too are you?" said she in Spanish.

"No, teaching and  research assistant in biology. I have never seen you before."

"You will notice me next time!"

"Sit down here and let's to have a talk."

Sinking ourselves into a  garden chair outside the cafeteria in the tropical dim light. Two other couples were already petting at the far side. She grabbed my neck and wanted a quick fix. I untangled her hands, "You do not understand. I want some foreplay. I would like to see a girl in slow death  rather than being killed instantly!"

"I am having a real treat tonight! But what are you going to do with me?"

"Take off your shoes and give me your feet!"

She stared at me puzzled. I told  her that I am a foot fetishist.

"A what?"

"Never mind!"

I grabbed her feet and helped myself pulling off her shoes. She has a pair of slender high-arched feet. Smiling soles with deep calyces surrounded by ten long oval petals. Big toes slightly shorter than the second. Caramel-hued mulatto soles covered by coffee-brown backs. I lifted her feet with trembling hands and pressed her moist soles tightly to my lips and nostrils. Her "Shoolay"(as the locals call the girl's foot aroma) was not of the strong and overpowering type, but was intoxicating to inhale while digging my nose deep between her toes and giving a light rub on the tender skin of the balls of  her sole. My  pants began to bulge and I have to change my sitting position in order to hold her feet firmly to my face.

"My feet are dirty!"

"Mm---, they smell so good!"  and gave a light tickling at her left sole.

She jumped and tried to draw her feet back, "What are you doing?" cackling in a metallic voice.

I giggled more than she did, "Are you ticklish, Gloria?" Her ankles were in my iron grip and I began to make rhythmic scratches in both her soles with my long fingernails ready-made for such ocassions although the last time I used them was two years ago. It was beautiful to look at her body contorting and twisting in agony with ten long toes trying to hold fists at each of my  finger stroke. Her howling was so desperate as if at the end of her life. The other  two couples at our side did not even raise their heads.

"Tickling kills!"

"How do you know?"

"I remember in the history class that they killed the prisoners by tickling."

"Do you know there are better ways to enjoy tickling before death? Put both of your feet up here. Try to hold your laughter and do not jump so that I can tickle both your soles with my both hands at the same time. "

"I will try to hold out!"

I scratched lightly on  the tender skin of the central depressions of  her both soles with my index fingers at the same time while she let me to. But she soon screamed hysterically and withdrew her feet, "I can not stand it any more!"

I stuck my both hands into her short sleeeves and tapped into her armpits. She shrieked and drew her arms close to fend off my thrust while at the same time looked at her own breasts as if suggesting. I tried to loose her bra by putting my fingers under it and reached her nipples but found that she was not particularly ticklish there. I returned to her soles. I regret that I do not have eight hands to reach both her soles and armpits at the same time like those immortals in mythology.

Each time when I worked at her soles I have to give respite to her armpits and vice versa. But I did the next best by tickling her armpits and soles alternately, which made her busy in fending off my hands at both her upper and lower body at the same time. Soon, she seemed to give up. Her laughter became voiceless. Her teeth gritted tightly. Her  whole body was writhing spasmodically as if in great pain at each of my stroke.

Suddenly, she stiffened her arms and legs and rolled her eyes skyward with mouth wide open. I felt her wet skirt on my lap. She closed her eyes with her flaccid head resting on my shoulder as if fell into a sound sleep. "I am done!  I am dead!" groaned her lifelessly.

"But, " protested I, "you are jumping and struggling most of the time instead of enjoying being tickled! Next time , I have to tie you down in order to give you a sound tickling."

"Tie me down?" she feigned a horror.

"Yes!" peeling down her panties at the meantime and squeezed her half-erected clitoris with two fingers.

She jumped again, "No, not here please!" and put a hand down there.

I pushed her hand back and gave her more squeezing and stroking. She opened her mouth as if to cry out but without any voice. I dug deeper into her wet slit to find her G-spot while her body shrank into a small pile of ragdoll at this time. "Oh, it feels so good! But, wait, just----"  and had a second orgasm with gushing juice like pee.

"Have a short sleep  before we finish this session today. Or if you want more now?"

"More, until I can not walk so that you have to carry me back to the sorority house!"

I met her in the Old Town Campus two weeks later. She winced at me and made a clawing gesture at her own feet and armpits.