As I suspected, sleep did not come easily for me for the next several days. Every time I tried to get some sleep, all I could think about was Holly...about her feet, her delicious love nest, how she pulled me to her and finally gave me my much needed release. Sleep was impossible, even though in my heated state I was constantly engaging in some auto-erotic activity just to ease the frustration. Even after giving myself orgasm after orgasm, I still couldn't get her out of my head (either one!) long enough to get any decent sleep. The anticipation of meeting her again was making me a wreck.
I had the hots for her so bad that I kept her silky stockings under my pillow every night. I spent many long minutes - hours even - sniffing and kissing them, rubbing them blissfully all over my face. Often I licked along the toe seams, and along the reinforced strips to the heels. I remembered how incredible that toe seam looked while she rubbed her feet in my face. I even found myself putting my hands inside them and rubbing the foot portion on my throbbing penis, imagining that it was Holly's sexy toes and soles rubbing me to orgasm. But I was always careful not to get my cum on those stockings. I wanted them pristine...with no scents on them but Holly's. Somehow, soiling them in any way seemed almost sacrilegious. I thought that anything that was lucky enough to be worn by Holly deserved to be treated with the utmost respect and awe. To be honest, I actually WORSHIPPED those stockings, touching and kissing them reverently over and over for hours at a time, wishing her legs and feet were still in them.
So, sleepless and dog tired, I waited and waited for Thursday to come. The clock never seemed to move. The second hand crawled along with an agonizing slowness that drove me insane minute by minute. My days and nights had become a painful blur of dreaming about Holly and sniffing and kissing her stockings. Nothing else mattered. My dad was worried about my haggard state, but my mom just comforted me as much as she could. She just figured I was in love, and what I was going through was perfectly normal. Ha! If she only knew.
Though my mom thought I was in love, it was much more like lust...even obsession. Once I'd gotten a taste of Holly's incredible feet and soft, lickable quim, I was hooked. I'd do almost anything to taste either of them again. It was all that filled my brain...all that I thought about. I was barely able to get through my classes.
When Thursday finally came, I was fumbling all over myself with anticipation. I wasn't even that bad the first time I met her, but somehow PLANNING to meet her again, knowing that I was now officially her "foot boy" and "pussy boy"...well, that made it all completely different. Besides, she had left me with the promise of introducing me to all kinds of kinky pleasures...mostly hers, of course, but enough left over for me to make me blissfully unaware of the inequity in the arrangement. It wouldn't have mattered if I'd allowed myself to acknowledge that inequity anyway. My submissive side reveled in the idea of giving Holly all the pleasure she demanded, while accepting whatever crumbs of satisfaction she might dole out to me. Those seductive feet and sticky sweet flower - and hopefully at some point the rest of her body as well - were enough to keep me coming back again and again. She was the Foot Goddess of my dreams, now made real and touchable.
Finally, Thursday arrived. I drove to McDonald's. I waited in the parking lot for her to show up. My hands were wringing the life out of the steering wheel. I was sweating and shivering. I kept seeing her slowly, tantalizingly using one foot to remove the shoe from the other. I could almost smell her stockings, the subtle scent of her bare feet. My tongue moved around in my mouth as if tasting the slickness between her legs. I squirmed in my seat, a burning, itching throb between my thighs.
Then I saw her car pull into the entrance. My heart raced. My breathing became labored. I shivered even more. It was almost as if my mind was warning me that Holly wasn't good for my health...that she was planning to eat me alive....chew me up and spit me out. I didn't listen. I didn't care. I welcomed the devouring with open arms...and throbbing loins.
She pulled her car up in front of mine, rolled down her window and smiled wickedly at me. She was not the least bit surprised to see me waiting there for her. She KNEW I wouldn't stand her up. Still grinning, she motioned with her finger for me to come to her. I could almost see her licking her lips.
As I opened my car door and got out, my mind was telling me that I was responding to a command not unlike someone who says "Here, boy!" for their dog to come to them. As usual, I didn't listen to my brain. Or, again, I didn't care. I was going to enjoy the wicked Holly as much as I could...or as much as she'd allow me to. It was all that mattered.
I closed and locked my door. I walked around to the passenger side of Holly's car, opened the door with a sweaty, trembling hand, and dropped myself weakly into the seat. I was still shaking all over. Just seeing her again was making me burn with desire. I tried not to show it, but that was impossible. Even if I wasn't a walking bag of hormones, Holly would've seen through my act immediately.
"Hello, foot boy," she cooed, grinning that grin that made me sweat.
Remembering her preference, I replied, "Hello, Goddess."
"You remembered. Very good. Are you ready to please your Goddess tonight, foot boy?"
"Yes, Goddess," I replied, the words breaking up a bit as I found myself swallowing hard.
"Wonderful. I've got some delightful things planned for tonight. But first, let's get dinner. And since you're a college boy and more than likely on a tight budget, dinner will be my treat. But...you'll have to pay me back in other ways. I'm sure you won't mind." Her grin could've turned granite to putty...except that it had the reverse effect between my shaking legs. Before turning back to the wheel to drive off, she added - to herself or to me, I wasn't exactly sure - "I've so much to teach you." Her pink tongue licking those moist red lips caused my sweat glands to kick even further into overdrive, not to mention OTHER already churning glands that were doing the same.
With that, she drove off, pulling out of the McDonald's parking lot and onto the main road. It was still light out, and I thanked all the powers that be for that, because I got to look at her as she drove. I didn't even care where we were going. I just wanted to gaze longingly at her. I was finally with her again. What else could possibly be of any importance?
This time, her long, shiny black hair was curled into a tight bun on the top of her head. Her make-up was the same as the first time I'd seen her, though her eye shadow seemed a shade or two darker...more mysterious. She wore a silky red blouse, very low cut, and extremely tight stretch pants, which I wasn't surprised to see were black. At her ankles, sheer smoky stockings snugly hugged her legs from there to her toes. I couldn't see much above her ankles because of the tight pants, but I imagined my eyes could see those stockings as they kissed her calves and thighs all the way up to Nirvana.
As I looked further down, below those well-turned ankles, I noticed with surprise - and unexpected pleasure - that, except for the stockings, Holly was barefoot as she drove. My eyes focused on the sheer toes as they pressed down on the metal and hard rubber pedal, noting that these stockings were not reinforced as were the ones I was now lucky enough to own. At least not a thick dark area that fully covered the toes as with the other pair. Rather, this time the toes were as sheer as the rest of the stocking, with only a thin seam that ran along the tips of Holly's toes....toes that were still as brightly painted as they were several nights ago. I watched those feet as they controlled the car...thinking how much the car and I had in common, being so easily and unerringly controlled by Holly's feet.
I heard a laugh, and looked up, reluctantly. "I always drive barefoot," she said. "You like watching me drive like this?" she asked, her dark eyes twinkling. As I looked into those mesmerizing eyes, I realized something. When Holly asked you a question, or just expected any kind of verbal response from you at all, her eyes would bore into yours and not waver from them until she got an answer.
"Well," I said, trying to catch my reath, "what's not to like. You know I adore your feet." I was trying to sound calm, even suave, but, in retrospect, Holly saw right through it. I was only fooling myself, and not even doing that very well.
