tagMind ControlFoot in Mouth Disease

Foot in Mouth Disease


Please note that I am Australian –and therefore write from an Australian perspective.

I'm a student and my particular educational institution of choice is some way away from my home, and what with petrol prices the way they are, I'm a fan of the old public transport.

People say things about public transport being questionable, but I've never had any complaints.

Now, on the day in question – yeah, I know, it sounds like a police report, but how else do you phrase it? – I was catching a bus. It was a good bus; I'd give it a seven. Fairly clean, not too tardy with the timetable; all in all, a good day of family fun.

So, of course, me being the cool guy I like to believe I am, I was sitting right up the back; and inexplicably, no-one else was. Then again, it is around the end of year assessment period – and I'm renowned for having my exams later than my friends – renowned in three states (!)... just kidding. Anyway, today wasn't an exam, just a standard trip to the campus where I'd make glib remarks about how no-one turns up to class.

The bus stopped at an ordinary suburban stop and a group of people around my age got on – I never know how to describe us – me being 21 – I don't feel like a "twenty-something" I'm not quite a "young adult" anymore; not a "kid"... anyway, a bunch of what we called tertiary students – university that is.

There was a guy about my age and two girls, one of whom was a stunning young woman with long brown hair tied back in a single ponytail, who wore a summery sort of dress that came down to her knees and those shoes that just sort of slip on – I don't know the name. No tights, I noticed, casually checking out her legs – or stockings or whatever women called them

You may have guessed – I'm not a laureate on all matters female.

Anyway, I just sat there, not listening to music on account of my mp3 player not being charged – and trying not to do anything when they all walked up and sat on the seats in front of me – the second girl and the guy sat on the first and second ones from the back on the left side, and the one with great legs sat pretty much in front of me on the right side of the bus.

Having no music, I ended up listening to their conversation

"You're just jealous" The other one, who I didn't notice what she looked like, said to the one in front of me.

"Why on earth would I be jealous?" She said, her left foot dangling in the air, the shoe hanging precariously.

"Because he likes me now."

Ah. Teen Drama – that bountiful fuel source that powered so many episodes of Degrassi...

"So what? I got bored of him."

"That's what you say."

"What else would it be?" She asked, starting to flick her shoe against her bare heel.

"Just because he isn't turned on by Hypnosis any more..."

"Maybe I made him like that"

"Whatever, he's my man now."

"Like I care – I can have anyone I want"


Whether propelled by a challenge or because she wanted to, the brunette in front of me let her shoe fall to the ground and stuck her left foot right in my face, covering my mouth and nearly my nose as well.

"Breathe." She said, staring right at me.

Now, I should clarify, I don't have a foot fetish. Well, maybe a tiny one, but only as much as any straight man like women, and feet are a part of women. That said, you didn't see this foot. As feet go, it's right up there.

Barely noticing that no-one else was on the bus, I just breathed in. Again, I say that I'm not a foot sniffer, but she smelt pretty damn good. Of course, I did it the way everyone says to, in through the nose, out through the mouth.

Obviously, she liked the feeling of my mouth tickling her soles, because she giggled.

After a few inhalations of her foot, she looked at me straight in my eyes and told me:

"Kiss." Just that one word.

No-one else was on the bus, so I figured why the hell not? I started kissing her foot.

She moved it around, so her toes were facing me, and of course, well, I was kissing her foot, so I shifted a bit.

Content with the job I was doing, she applied a bit of downward pressure on her foot, currently being embraced by me. It may have been possible to move my head, but it was easier to fall to my knees to continue kissing her foot.

"You like this."

I muffled a "yes"

"Yes, Mistress." She corrected me.

Idiot! Of course. I repeated.

"Good, slave." She smiled at her friend

You know, I felt good for her. Not because of the foot kissing, but because she was able to prove her friend wrong.

I think if there's a moral here; that's what it is.

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