"Tell me" You say, sliding a hand down my chest "exactly what" my belly "is making you" lower "nervous" You hold the head of my cock softly in the loop of your thumb and forefinger.
I an rigid in my seat with anticipation, fear, excitement, shame. I swallow through a dry mouth, and thick tongue. I'm suddenly afraid I'm going to lose control of the volume of my voice, bellow to all and sundry what you're going to do to me.
"Just.. what you said you would.. do to me." I say in barely a whisper. I'm hard against your fingers, you squeeze to the point of discomfort and hold me tightly.
"And what was that?"
"I, uh. You.."
"I... what?"
"You, um. Said you would make me lie on the floor and use my face as a footstool." The lights are dimming, but I must be visible across the room purely by the red glow of my face.
"Did I? Oh my. But.. what if somebody saw you?" You start to jerk me off almost imperceptibly "what if everyone knew you were down there under my sneakers?" I'm squirming in my seat.
"I don't-"
"You don't want that? You don't want to get down on the dirty floor and be my foot rest? Well ok then." You say, whipping your hand away and turning to the screen.
"No, nonono I want it. Please? Please let me?" I say in a keening stumbling whisper. You ignore me. The film is starting, the lights are dropping. I take a deep breath, and scramble to my knees, start kissing the toes of your Nikes. The floor is sticky under my hands, there is a tracery of mud on your shoes, and I can taste dirt when I lick my lips. You allow this to happen, but pay no attention to it, until after a few minutes you shift yourself more comfortably in your seat, and in the process bring one shod foot down against my face, irresistibly forcing my cheek into the floor, then rest the other casually on my thigh, leaving me crunched in a frozen grovel beneath you. The floor is hard and cold against my cheek, sticky with ancient spilled soda. The tread of your shoe grips against my face painfully, my neck already hurts from my unnaturally twisted pose. I can see nothing, down here, in the dark. I can't move. I can't do anything but listen to the slightly muffled noise of the film, and feel the weight of your leg, the gritty rubber against my skin, and imagine that any second somebody is going to notice this.
After an apparent eternity (how long is this movie?), the pressure on my head is released and you kick me in the side just hard enough to ensure my attention. You kick me again, and I roll onto my back, hoping that this is the correct interpretation. You put one foot squarely on my forehead, lean down and peer to see me in the dark. "Clean my shoe." You mouth to me, bringing your other foot down heel first against my sternum. I take your foot in my hands, and bring it reluctantly to my face, part my lips, and run my tongue across the tread. There is no purpose to making me do this except degradation - you can't feel my tongue, can't see me even if you were looking, and once your shoe is as clean as I can make it by feel and taste, it will be filthy again by the time we're half way home.
You offer no assistance to me, your leg heavy in my hands - if I stopped holding it up the full weight of it would smash down against my lips. I keep licking, swallowing down the muck, grit between my teeth. Abruptly, you switch feet. Your just cleaned shoe comes to rest pressing my erection into my belly, moving restlessly. The other moves to my mouth. I start licking. Dirt. Grit. Rubber. Your other foot teasing, rolling, crushing. You use the toe of your shoe to tug my top higher, revealing my flesh, my cock swollen hard, a slick of precum dribbled onto my gut. I keep lapping. Dirt. Grit. Rubber. You bring the toe of your shoe to the head of my cock and tap it absentmindedly, before applying pressure, and twisting like someone putting out a cigarette.
Luckily there are explosions, to cover my involuntary yelp of pain as rubber tugs and twists the sensitive skin. Apparently satisfied, you change position in your seat, bracing against my body, and settle back, one shoe pressed into my face, the other resting softly against my cock. By the time the movie finishes, I am stiff and sore, my erection gone and my bladder bursting. It isn't until the lights come up that you release me, immediately bursting out laughing when you can see my face. You snap a picture on your phone, turn it to show me the tread marks indented on my cheek, the dirt smeared around my mouth, the popcorn stuck in my hair.
"Oh my god you look a mess" You laugh, pulling a package of face wipes from your coat pocket and handing them to me. "Finish this, your mouth must be gross" You say, handing me the melted dregs of your drink. I grin up at you, swill my mouth, swallow, wipe my face. "Better?" I ask.
"Sort of" You say, stroking my cheek where evidently the print of your shoe is still visible. "Hope we don't run into anyone we know on the way home!"
