Summary:
Nerdy girl is given a foot job by cheerleader in library.
Note 1:
This story was inspired by the video series Bratty Babes Own You. A series that is mostly girls humiliating men with pantyhose clad foot jobs... thankfully in the past few months, they have added lesbian pantyhose foot jobs, usually where the aggressor uses her nylon feet to get a raise or to get them fired or to get out of detention. Yet they always imply it's humiliating to get a foot job. So I have written a short (very short for me) story as I envision the perfect Bratty Babes Own You video.
Note 2:
Thanks to Tex Beethoven and Robert for editing this.
Nylon Foot Rub: A Nerd Falls
I was sitting where I always did during my morning's free period before lunch... in the library. Many students would use this break before lunch to go home and nap, but I used it to perfect my work.
I was on my laptop, in my usual spot in the secluded back section of the library, completing the final essay of my high school career. I had already received early admission to Harvard and was just focusing on keeping up my stellar grades, even though most students in the school had already called it a year. I had slipped out of my shoes, like I usually did when I was working, always finding that shoes confined my feet. To me, shoes are a prison.
Today was also an official senior skip day, so all the senior classes were mostly ghost towns. In advanced English there were just six of us, and in Chemistry only Sarah and me. I expected I would probably be the only one attending any of my classes after lunch. That said, I always enjoyed the quiet of the library. It gave me quality time to work on my essay, which I wanted to be perfect to maintain the hundred percent score in English I currently had.
I was startled when Amber Adams, the head cheerleader, the archetypical blonde-haired, blue-eyed pageant queen (she actually won Ms. Teen Massachusetts a couple years ago), greeted me cheerily, "Hi, Eleanor."
I don't know which surprised me more: Amber speaking to me, Amber knowing my name, or Amber being at school on skip day. Of
course
I knew her name, everybody did. I replied, "Hi, Amber," as I looked at her in her cheerleading attire complete with pantyhose, the attire she wore almost every day. The only thing I had in common with the cheerleaders was wearing pantyhose. I wore them every day and so did they. In truth, many of the girls wore pantyhose with their skirts and dresses... likely because the popular cheerleaders did. I had heard that Amber's mother was the owner of Elegant Stockings, an expensive yet popular brand worn by many celebrities, which had also triggered the slow and steady growth of pantyhose and nylons returning to being fashionable. I wore them because I always had, and because they helped to shade my overly pale legs. I also found jeans confining so always wore dresses, although ones I purchased mostly at secondhand stores.
"You're not taking advantage of Skip Day?" she asked, as she sat down at the table across from me.
"No," I answered, looking around to see if any of her usual posse was with her. She seemed to be alone.
"Why not?" she asked.
"I don't see the point," I answered. These easily being the most words I had ever spoken to Amber, or Amber to me. Truth was, Amber wasn't a stereotypical bully like the cheerleaders in the movies, we just lived in different worlds, travelled in different circles. She was actually a very sweet person.
"So you can live life and not to be stuck in the library all the time," she answered.
"I live life," I said, annoyed by her accusation, and yet deep down knowing where this was coming from. I didn't go to parties; I didn't have a boyfriend or a girlfriend (it was 2019 after all); I didn't hang out with the popular kids.
"I'd like to see you living some life right now," Amber said, in an odd tone and with a sly smirk on her face.
"I don't think so," I said, just as I felt her foot parting my legs. I gasped, as her foot went straight to my pantyhose-clad crotch and my eyes went wide, "W-w-what are you doing?"
"Helping you start to live life," she smiled, as her foot began rubbing my vagina before I had the chance to react or process what she was doing.
"Stop that," I demanded, although my intended rebuke came out as more of a moan.
"Have you ever had sex with anyone?" she asked, ignoring my protest, as her foot rubbed me in a strangely pleasurable circular pattern.
I should have moved my chair away, or at the very least put my hands under the table and moved her foot away, yet I didn't do anything.
I was paralyzed by shock.
Paralyzed by the question to myself:
Is this really happening? In the library?
I looked around. There were only a few people in the library at the time, and they all were out of sight and thus oblivious to what was happening.
I couldn't see Mrs. Washington, the librarian, although she did like to make the rounds during the day.
"I know you're a little lesbian behind that nerdy facade," Amber accused, as her foot stopped and then started moving the other way.
"No," I disagreed weakly, even though I knew I was. I didn't find boys attractive at all, although I did admire a girl's body. I went to football and basketball games to admire the cheerleaders, not to cheer for the team. I literally hadn't bothered to learn the rules for either sport, not seeing the point.
My
point being that Amber, Katherine, Josie and Jane were all cheerleaders I had fantasized over many times. Yet I had no actual experience with any gender (there are more than two these days, you know) to confirm my sexuality.
"I've noticed you admiring me and my girls all year; you don't even take your eyes off of us when the team makes a big play," she continued both her words of accusation and her stimulating sexual assault of my now wet vagina. I was also alarmed to learn she and perhaps others had noticed me checking them out.
"No, I'm there to watch the games," I insisted, but this time with the slightest of moans, as I looked around to see if anyone was aware of what was happening. Thankfully, the few other students were both out of sight and earshot.
"I think it's yes, you're only there to perv on us, not that I mind. And I also think you'd love to taste my pussy," Amber persisted.
"It's still no," I denied, even though I definitely had imagined doing just that that on a few bedtime occasions. I wondered what a pussy would taste like. I was naturally a people pleaser, and I found the idea of pleasing a pussy intriguing. I found a vagina way more visually appealing than a penis, just like I found a girl way more visually attractive than a boy.
She added, "I'm told by some of your friends that mine is particularly delicious."
"W-w-what?" I stammered, catching her implication, and yet unable to fathom what friends she could possibly be talking about. I only had a few friends, none of them were lesbians, and most resented the cheerleaders for the hierarchy we lived with at school, where being pretty trumped being smart.
"Oh, yes, most nerds are very good cunt eaters," Amber declared, "it's in your nature."
"That's absurd," I replied, even as the pleasure inside me was building and I couldn't help but wonder what her va-jay-jay would taste like.
