"If there isn’t much sweat there in the first place, then what harm can the nylon do." The pretty girl looked slightly annoyed, "You’re pretty sure about this, aren’t you?" she said. "Well, yes," I said, trying to look cool while feeling a bit nervous about her. "Well, we do have an available sample right here, so maybe we should find out?" she said, looking first at me, then at her friend. She lifted her foot and held it in the air. "What do you think," she asked me, "Can you smell it?" "No," I lied, feeling a hint of the vinegar-like odour. She moved the slender and beautifully curved foot closer to my face. I could see a spot of sweat on the ball just below the reinforced toe part. "Still nothing?" she asked. "No," I insisted. "Gee, I think he is right," she said, turning to her friend. "Because I’m a woman, my feet actually have no odour!" Her friend laughed. "And now?" she said mock seriously as she placed her sole flat on my face. I wasn’t able to say much. The smell. “Well, baby boy, let’s go out to eat. I have a little surprise for you.” At these words my heart starts pounding again, and my cock grows a little in my jeans. Fuck… skinny jeans were not a good idea. You glance down and grin. “We’ll get to that, love. Don’t you worry.” I gulp and drive to the nearest restaurant, an Olive Garden that’s considerably nicer than anything else in the area. We walk into the restaurant, and you swagger ahead without bothering to wait for a hostess. Your confidence is intoxicating; hips swaying with purpose, long legs striding forward meaningfully, brown hair flowing behind you. I follow behind you like a little puppy dog, desperate to be near his master no matter the circumstances. You find a booth that suits our needs and sit down, gesturing for me to sit next to you. I do, and you immediately place one of you long legs over mine. You rub my shin up and down, practically straddling my thigh, and I gasp inwardly when I feel something wet. “Miss… you’re.
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