The Barefoot Barstoolistas

Luckily for Pete, things panned out fine.

The next guy fapped, disposed of his fap paper, then went to sniff under his Barstoolista's toes, left it at that, and went to wash his hands at the pipe stand. Then the other guy fapped, disposed of his fap paper, went to sniff under his Barstoolista's toes and then knelt to kiss her soles in tribute, left it at that, and went to wash his hands at the pipe stand.

Pete knew that the three guys preceding him had respectively spent $10/£10, $20/£20 and $30/£30. Pete didn't think the three guys were skinflints - a foot guy didn't come all this way and at such considerable expense not to indulge in the entire experience. And neither did Pete believe the novelty was beginning to wear off for them. Pete thought the three dirty-feet guys before him were probably nearing the end of their holidays in Bang Tam and were running low on funds, so they could no longer afford the extra $50/£50 to go to the backroom - to 'get off good!'.

The Proprietress was having a long day at the cash register, and she was now looking a bit tired, Pete thought as he went up to the bar counter with the correct money in his hands - £110. But the Proprietress seemed to revive, and her eyes light up as she saw the five twenty-pound notes and a ten-pound note fanned out in Pete's hand like a top hand at cards.

Pete handed his £110 to the Proprietress and said, "Good evening, madam. I would like to patronise a Barefoot Barstoolista: Number fifteen. The full menu: five minutes in chair Number fifteen, then sniff under Barefoot Barstoolista Number fifteen's toes, then kiss her soles in tribute, and then go into the backroom with her for five minutes to lick her dirty soles and suck clean her toes - to 'get off good'!"

The Proprietress said in her sing-song voice, "Footboy misread menu pricing. That only cost footboy eighty pounds - not one hundred and ten pounds."

Pete said, "Oh, yes. The other thirty pounds, madam, is to buy two Barefoot Barstoolista souvenir T-shirts."

The Proprietress said, "Understand in backroom footboy not Barstoolista pump meat to feet?"

Pete said, " Yes, madam. I read up on the local laws regarding this during my flight from Gatwick - advisories to red-light district tourists are prominent in the booklet on Bang Tam my travel agent gave me."

The Proprietress said, "You English. I like English - make best footboys. And you read up on local rules. Not every footboy read up on rules - and then unhappy when discover must pump meat to feet themselves. And you polite - call me madam. And you like dirty feet. I am retired Barefoot Barstoolista. Business owner like dirty feet and like my dirty feet best - so marry me. I make husband submissive - he treat me like queen. Now I run business. I still help when busy - with dirty feet! Over years hundreds of footboys come to backroom for five minutes to lick my dirty soles and suck clean my toes - to get off good! And all footboys get off good!"

Pete said, "Madam - I am sure! I don't doubt it for a moment!"

The Proprietress put Pete's £110 in her cash register and exchanged his sheets of hard currency for his free sheet of triple-ply fap paper and two cellophane-wrapped Barefoot Barstoolista souvenir T-shirts. She said, "When wear one - think of your Barefoot Barstoolista!"

Pete assured the Proprietress that he would.

Then the Proprietress said, "English footboy - I like you. You very respectful. What your name? And how long you at Bang Tam?"

Pete saw no reason to be unforthcoming with the Proprietress, so he said, "Madam, my name is Peter, and I arrived in Bang Tam today. It is only by miraculous chance that I discovered you. I have another nine nights, and I will be here every evening to adore and honour a Barefoot Barstoolista."

The Proprietress said, "Footboy Peter - open flap in bar counter. Come in - meet husband."

Pete could not see a man behind the bar; he saw only reserve Barefoot Barstoolistas, chatting amongst themselves in their sing-song voices while awaiting their call-ups. But when he opened the flap in the bar counter to come behind the bar, he saw the husband of the Proprietress.

Pete stared downwards, awestruck - he had discovered the explanation for and the reason behind the Proprietress' elevated sitting position.

The Proprietress' former employer and business owner but now disempowered husband was sitting on the floor behind his wife's high barstool - placed on a two-foot-high platform like a throne put on a pedestal. In mesmerised rapture, his face was in between and inches from the Proprietress' upturned dirty soles as she rested the tops of her green rubberised plastic flip-flopped feet on the chromed circular rung of her barstool. Unconcerned and indifferent - all but insensible - to Pete's presence behind the bar, the husband kissed the grimy bottoms of the heels of his wife and queen the Proprietress. The Proprietress responded to her keenly attentive husband's expression of devoted submissive homage with an apt reward. Adeptly pinning both of her green flip-flops under her left foot on her barstool's rung, the Proprietress reached her right foot the few inches backwards to cup her toes under her husband's nose. The husband eagerly centralised his face behind the Proprietress' right sole, moaning his olfactory delight as he inhaled her under-the-toes aroma and beheld the grimy bottom of her right heel an inch from his eyes. Pete watched raptly as the Proprietress then massaged her dirty right sole on her power-relinquishing and authority-transferring husband's perfectly positioned and nicely realigned face at rung height of her high barstool. And, rubbing the grimy bottom of her heel and the grubby ball of her foot on her husband's nose and face and eliciting more expressions of in-his-place happiness, the Proprietress was doing nothing to alleviate and everything to heighten Pete's unabating raging hard-on.

The Proprietress explained, "Husband like sit every day from six p.m. until ten p.m. at dirty soles of his queen, while take money from footboys."

Pete was pretty much at a loss for words, and he wondered why he was being made privy to the Proprietress' matrimonial arrangement.

The Proprietress said, "Ten p.m. I finish at cash register. I take husband to backroom to lick dirty soles and suck clean my toes - he get off good!"

Pete said, "Madam - I am sure he does! I think your husband is an extremely fortunate man."

The Proprietress said, "Footboy Peter - want be extremely fortunate man tomorrow? Peter want adore and honour Proprietress? Obsessive husband not want take night off - must give occasional night off! But I now accustomed to reverent attendant at barstool - is nice. I like face of worshipful footboy for plaything. Is good pastime. So need suitable replacement. So I not charge footboy Peter if want replace husband on floor behind barstool tomorrow at six p.m. for submissive homage: admire dirty feet of Proprietress, sniff under toes, kiss soles in tribute, and position face nicely for foot massage. Then reward for obedient and worshipful footboy! Ten p.m. I take footboy Peter to backroom to lick dirty soles and suck clean toes - footboy Peter get off good!"

Pete was astounded but not lost for words - he grabbed this incredible opportunity of a lifetime. "Madam Proprietress, there is nothing I would like more than to sit on the floor behind your barstool for four hours in submissive homage. To admire your dirty feet, sniff under your toes, kiss your dirty soles in tribute, and position my face for your easeful foot massage would be the greatest pleasure and most wonderful honour of my life!" Pete could not find a formula of words to delicately express his ejaculative devotions to her later at ten p.m. when she was relieved at the cash register, and she took him to the backroom to lick her dirty soles and suck clean her toes - to 'get off good!'. So Pete just said, "Madam, thank you for choosing me to relieve your devoted husband at your feet behind your barstool for an evening of reverent adoring attendance. I will not disappoint you! I will be here tomorrow at six p.m., madam Proprietress."

The Proprietress said, "Footboy Peter - I think I choose replacement to relieve husband well. Know footboy when see one - especially obedient and submissive and pliant footboy who not only care about self! Confident footboy Peter will not disappoint! Now, go out through flap in bar. Polite and respectful footboy can introduce himself to his Barefoot Barstoolista: Number fifteen."

Pete did as bid. He took his two cellophane-wrapped Barefoot Barstoolistas souvenir T-shirts and his free sheet of triple-ply fap paper to the red leather seat and chromed circular runged high barstool correlated with his white plastic fapping chair - Number 15.

Pete said politely, "Good evening, Miss. I have paid madam Proprietress upfront for the full menu, and she has permitted me to introduce myself to you. Miss - I cannot say how thrilled I am to make your acquaintance!"

Barefoot Barstoolista Number 15 turned to appraise Pete - and Pete's heart crashed about his chest. Had he ever set eyes on a more beautiful young woman? Pete seriously doubted it.

Barefoot Barstoolista Number 15 said, "So - footboy! You like my feet?"

Pete said, "Miss, your feet are beautiful - and so are you. I can honestly say I have never set eyes on as beautiful a young woman."

Barefoot Barstoolista Number 15 said in her sing-song voice, "You English! I like English - make best footboys. English footboy - what your name?"

Pete said, "Miss, my name is Peter."

Barefoot Barstoolista Number 15 said, "Peter - nice name! And Peter nice man! My name An-Su - and Peter polite and respectful to An-Su. Not all footboys polite and respectful to An-Su - only want fap to feet of An-Su! So footboy Peter - want fap to feet of An-Su? Ready? First on chair? Then go to barstool to sniff under toes of An-Su to get excited again? Then go to knees at barstool to kiss dirty soles of An-Su in tribute? Then lick dirty soles and suck clean toes of An-Su in backroom - to get off good?"

Pete said, "Yes - all of that, An-Su. And I am sorry to hear that you are not treated with due reverence by all of your clients. It is criminal!"

An-Su said, "Footboy Peter polite, respectful, reverent - and kind to An-Su. An-Su remember. So footboy Peter - introductory chit chat over! Five minutes start now! Go sit in chair Number fifteen - fap to feet of An-Su!"

The foot guys getting off in their white plastic chairs to the antics of the flexible rubberised plastic flip-flopped feet of their chosen Barefoot Barstoolista were not disconcerted in the least by the other foot guys sitting adjacent or stood queueing behind them.

Nor was Pete. Pete did not know any of them, and they did not know each other - so there was no reason to be coy. So, with the precious seconds of his five minutes slipping away like gold dust through his fingers, Pete followed the example of his fellow fappers and pulled his shorts down to his ankles for unfettered access before sitting down in white plastic fapping chair Number 15.

Pete's chosen Barefoot Barstoolista tonight, An-Su, looked over her shoulder at Pete and smiled - and with her flexible red rubber flip-flopped feet, An-Su gave Pete the foot tease of his life.

Craving urgent release from his all-day unabating raging hard-on, it was in an agony of ecstasy that Pete managed to delay the inevitable for nearly two minutes - and then erupted into his at-the-ready free sheet of triple-ply fap paper.

Pete finished up, wiped up, deposited his sodden fap paper in the waste paper bin attached to the leg of his chair, stood and pulled up his shorts.

Pete then approached Barstool Number 15, got to his knees, and An-Su positioned her shapely dirty soles for Pete to sniff under her toes for renewed and enhanced excitement. Result: instant hard-on. Pete then spent the remainder of his five minutes kissing An-Su's soles in tribute.

An-Su slid off red leather and chrome runged high Barstool Number 15 and said, "Footboy Peter - five minutes up! Now five minutes - backroom! Lick dirty soles and suck clean toes of An-Su - get off good! Footboy Peter - in moment walk behind An-Su and watch flip-flop feet!"

An-Su signalled to the Proprietress for her replacement. A moment later, a stunningly beautiful reserve Barefoot Barstoolista came out through the flap in the bar. Pete watched as she slid her pert posterior onto the red leather seat and rested her blue rubberised plastic flip-flopped dirty feet on the chromed circular rung of Barstool Number 15. An-Su's colleague caught Pete's instinctive downward look, looked at Pete appraisingly, and the two Barstoolistas acknowledged each other with a ritual nod and a knowing (know footboy when see one!) smile. An-Su's substitute then delighted in informing her in English that her backroom client was also to be a substitute tomorrow evening, 'sitting in' for the Proprietress' husband as her barstool attendant and pastime plaything for her dirty feet for four solid hours. Pete had shame enough to look away in red-faced chagrin.

Pete's averting look took in the four dirty-feet guys now queueing behind white plastic fapping chair Number 15. They were all disappointed at An-Su's departure with Pete to the backroom. But upon seeing the excellent qualities of An-Su's sensational replacement on Barstool Number 15, none of them stepped out of the queue, and the guy at the front with a tell-tale bulge in his shorts hurried to the bar counter to present his $s/£s to the Proprietress at her cash register.

An-Su led the way to the backroom. And Pete felt himself building up a good head of steam again as he followed behind An-Su, watching her alternately displayed dirty bare soles and listening to her flexible red rubberised plastic flip-flops slapping against her heels.

As Pete had anticipated, the backroom of the Barefoot Barstoolistas - albeit another wooden hut with wire mesh insect screens for windows - was a less ramshackle building than the backroom of the Ladyboys.

An-Su led the way in, and Pete saw the superior interior of the Barefoot Barstoolistas' backroom.

Instead of four thin foam-rubber bedrolls on a bare wooden floor for foot guys to lie supine, on a red linoleumed floor, there were six well-padded black leather chaise longues for the Barefoot Barstoolistas to recline on. 'Bedside tables' held tall stacks of white triple-ply tissue paper. And for paying the $50/£50 premium price for five minutes with their Barefoot Barstoolista in the backroom, fappers could afterwards use the private sink instead of the public pipe stand outside to wash their hands.

At the foot of each of the six chaise longues was the standard white plastic chair for a foot guy to sit in - to 'get off good'!

And sitting in three of the white plastic fapping chairs, foot guys were unashamedly doing precisely that, at the perfectly elevated feet of their reclining Barefoot Barstoolista.

An-Su handed Pete a sheet of triple-ply tissue paper from the tall stack on a free 'bedside table', then got herself comfortable on the vacant recliner. An-Su said, "Footboy Peter - get ready! Five minutes start now! Pump meat to feet of An-Su! Sit in fapping chair to lick dirty soles and suck clean toes of An-Su - get off good!"

An-Su was setting the clock running on his five minutes of heaven with the delectable Oriental, and time slowed for no man. So Pete didn't hesitate - he pulled down his shorts for unrestricted access and sat down in the white plastic fapping chair at the foot of An-Su's recliner.

An-Su pressed a button on her chaise longue, and Pete groaned aloud his anticipatory pleasure as An-Su's slim golden-brown legs began rising to present to him both of her shapely dirty soles.

Pete thought exaltedly: This is what it's about!

And again, Pete was not put off by the ecstatic expressions and ejaculative exclamations of the other three fappers in their white plastic fapping chairs - anonymity bestowed equanimity and banished inhibition; the foot worshippers both outside and here in the backroom bared their souls as in the ultimate devotional homage they revered and honoured the bare soles of their chosen Barefoot Barstoolista.

Pete loved the feel of a woman's bare sole in his hands, and so he took hold of An-Su's left foot to massage simultaneously and stuck out his tongue meaningfully - An-Su got Pete's message.

An-Su understood Pete desired to serve her humbly as he ardently adored her - not an uncommon trait in footboys.

An-Su wiped the whole length of her dirty right sole up and down Pete's protruding and quickly discolouring tongue, and then she inserted all five muddied toes into Pete's accommodating mouth to suck clean. Pete sucked on and in between An-Su's dirty toes and beheld her beautiful smiling knowing face - and became hard and erect as a flagpole.

An-Su was a big-draw Barefoot Barstoolista (she didn't always have dirty feet!), so she had plenty of experience in the backroom. An-Su knew footboys, knew their giveaway signs - and now she knew that Pete was trying to prolong his peculiar pleasure, trying to delay the magical moment of his convulsive and conclusive outpouring.

At the optimal moment, An-Su removed the toes of her right foot from Pete's saliva flooded mouth, removed her left foot from his massaging hands, and inserted into Pete's welcoming mouth the bottom of her grimy left heel. "Footboy Peter - pump meat to feet!" encouraged An-Su. "Time running out! Pump meat to feet of An-Su - get off good!" exhorted An-Su. "Suck bottom of dirty heel and look at dirty sole and toes - get off good!"

Pete didn't need instruction - but he loved it when told what to do.

It didn't take long.

Dirty feet Pete sucked the bottom of An-Su's grimy left heel and watched her scrunching and splaying slender dirty toes an inch from his eyes. Pete pumped meat to feet with his left hand, and with his right hand, he readied his free sheet of triple-ply fap paper. As soon as Pete began his exclamations of ejaculative ecstasy, An-Su removed her heel from Pete's mouth and inserted her toes up to the ball of her foot. "Footboy Peter - get off good!" urged An-Su. "Pump meat to feet of An-Su - get off good!"

Pete had fapped once outside on white plastic fapping chair Number 15 to the expertly teasing flexible red rubberised plastic flip-flopped feet of the high barstool perched An-Su - but that was priming. A releasing of excess steam, as it were, for the big event in the backroom.

And by now, Pete had built up another good head of steam. Desperate to properly release the tormenting tension of his all-day unabating raging hard-on, Pete sucked on and in between An-Su's slender dirty toes and beheld her triumphantly smiling beautiful face - and he 'got off good!'.

As Pete finished up and wiped up, An-Su proffered both feet invitingly for Pete to finish licking her soles clean and sucking her toes spotless. "Footboy Peter - five minutes almost up! But An-Su allow one extra minute to return kindness to polite and respectful footboy. But footboy Peter must be quick - Proprietress expect An-Su back in bar soon! So hurry - finish tongue-clean of dirty soles and toes of An-Su!"

Pete hurried, licking and sucking the more stubborn remaining dirt and grime from the delectable An-Su's soles and toes. An-Su's arches were more or less clean, so Pete focused his efforts on the grubby balls of her feet and the grimy bottoms of her heels. Pete worked his tongue, rubbing and scouring to dissolve and drink down the muddy nectar to reveal the bronze-gold of An-Su's sun-blessed skin tone before his five minutes plus one of heaven with her expired.

Pete deposited his second sheet of used triple-ply fap paper into the already overflowing waste paper bin affixed to the leg of his white plastic fapping chair. Pete saw with distaste that the other five waste paper bins were similarly overfull.