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    Aromatherapy part 2 (repost)

    repost from the Ancient Amber Archives



    AROMATHERAPY part 2
    by Amber K

    Two weeks had passed since Mr. Simmons's session with Claire Evans. In that time, Brad had developed a nightly ritual. Long after his wife retired to bed, one could find Brad securely locked in the downstairs bathroom masturbating furiously to the fetid scent of Mrs. Evans' soiled stockings. To the uninitiated, Brad would have appeared rather ludicrous. One toe of the nylons, pressed firmly to his sniffing nose, the other, sucked fervently between his lips filling his mouth with the tangy and bitter taste of the therapist’s foot-funk.

    Brad's mind was on fire with the remembrance of Mrs. Evans's gloriously stinky feet. It soon became a dull ache in his chest as he yearned to again inhale their near deadly aroma. A growing resentment for his wife also bloomed soon after the therapy session. Occasionally he would catch torturous samples of his wife's full-bodied foot-reek. Their filthy unwashed odor would sometimes fill the room when she disrobed following her aerobics class. Of course she would quickly bundle the soiled footwear to the laundry room to be washed before she climbed into the shower. Brad would, at these times, sniff fitfully at the residual stink that would slowly fade as she left the room. Her efforts to deny him that which he desired now seemed hateful to him and thoughts of his wife's feet now inspired him to anger. Why would she not indulge him? Who would it hurt for christsake, Brad thought. I'd do anything for her ... why does she refuse to help me!??

    As far as Brad's wife was concerned, she was helping him. Of course she had always leaned towards the selfish side of things ever since she was a little girl, thus the idea of working through the dilemma so both could benefit never occurred to her. The idea of treating him like a junkie made perfect sense though. She did her best to deny him any stimuli concerning her foot smell and would continue to do so until he dropped this ludicrous new kink. I mean how gross, she thought, smelling someone's nasty feet!

    On the fateful camping trip, during which she had caught Brad sniffing her soles, she had taken a sniff herself. Once Brad had fallen asleep, following the indignant chastisement he had received from her, she had pulled one of her bare feet to her nose and tentatively took a sniff. Immediately she had jerked her head back in revulsion. The smell of her own filthy foot aroma was overwhelmingly horrible and she couldn't imagine such a thing giving her husband such a powerful orgasm. He had to be sick, she insisted to herself, he just had to be.

    The act of smelling her foot had triggered a gut response as had the first time she had caught Brad with her socks and the same only an hour earlier when she’d witnessed him smelling her feet in earnest. It was a deep disturbing sensation. Inexplicable but very present. She continued to look despairingly at the dirty and grimy surface of her soles and bottoms of her toes; they were near black with grime and particles of sock fuzz clung to the skin’s slimy surface. "Disgusting!" she had said out loud, nearly waking him in the process. The sensation of feeling deeply disturbed hovered at the corners of her consciousness. There was something else there, but Jen refused to waste her time delving to deeply into the reason for it. I mean, who wouldn’t feel freaked out, she mused, before going back to sleep.

    When Brad's therapist, Claire Evans, had contacted her about attending the next session, Beth was dubious. Why should she have to go ... Brad had the problem not her? Besides, she was busy with the school and didn't have much in the way of free time. Somehow Mrs. Evans had finally convinced her and they had both agreed upon a date for the session.

    Claire sat in her office listening to Tess Chavez relate her sexual fantasies concerning her 15 year old stepson. The session was drawing to a close yet she could tell that Tess was getting more worked up by the minute. Her face was flushed and she continuously crossed and uncrossed her legs. Claire knew this was a polite way for Tess to stimulate her own pussy without actually touching it. Claire watched Tess's tongue dart of her mouth for the sixth time in the last few minutes and wet her lips. Suddenly the woman changed gears and began to relate a fantasy in which she watched her natural born daughter, age 17, and her stepson engaged in anal penetration.

    "I think we'd better save this for our next session, Tess. I have a four O'clock and its already three-fifty." Tess took a deep breath to compose herself and reluctantly smiled at Claire.

    "I'm sorry, I guess I got kind of carried away, Mrs. Evans."

    "No need to apologize, Tess, we'll continue where we left off next week. Remember to make an appointment with my assistant when you leave."

    "Thanks, Mrs. Evans."

    No sooner had Tess closed the door than she peeked back in. "Yes?" Claire inquired. "There's no one in the front office, Mrs. Evans," Tess replied apologetically.

    "Oh, I'm sorry Tess, my assistant is on her Thursday jog. I'll pencil you in myself."

    "OK, see you next week," Tess smiled. Claire watched the matronly woman close the office door. If her family only knew the things she told me, Claire thought.

    Before Claire could finish organizing her notes for the Simmons session there was a knock on her office door. "Yes?" The door immediately opened and a strikingly pretty woman entered. She was petite and stood barely above five foot. Her short cropped brown hair was matted with sweat and appeared unkempt though the suit she wore was immaculate. "Mrs. Simmons?"

    The woman plopped down in one of the patient chairs and exhaled loudly. "Am I to assume my husband has yet to arrive."

    "Are you all right, Mrs. Simmons, you looked flushed. Would you like a glass of water?"

    "No thanks."

    "You look as if you ran here. Are you sure everything is alright?"

    Mrs. Simmons smirked in a non-friendly manner. "The showers at my gym were out of order. Of course they were fine when my aerobics class started, but when we went back to the locker room there was a sign claiming a pipe had burst. Of course its hot as hell outside and I'm sweating buckets now. I'm sure I'll positively ruin my blouse!"

    Claire's first response to this woman was one of dislike, but she skillfully pushed her personal feelings aside and addressed the woman with a pleasant smile. "I'll get you a glass of water and turn up the air conditioning. Then maybe when can chat a bit before your husband arrives."

    "Whatever."

    Claire watched the woman sipping the water she had offered and felt relief when the woman's hackles seemed to go down a bit. "Why don't you take off your jacket, I'll hang it for you." Mrs. Simmons unbuttoned her suit jacket revealing a prim, white blouse with large sweat rings beneath her armpits and a damp spot on her back. Claire could smell her sweat and perfume. The spots seemed to fade a bit as the air touched them.

    "Better?" Claire inquired politely.

    "Yes, thank you. Isn't Brad supposed to be here?"

    "I told him to come in at 4:30 and my assistant, Betty, is on a jog until 5:00 or so, which gives us some private time to talk."

    "What do we have to talk about?"

    "Well, the reason we are here is to hopefully repair your sexual relations with you husband."

    "That's up to him," Jen sneered, "I sure as hell didn't tell him to start sniffing feet to get off."

    "Maybe we should discuss your obvious aversion to his desire. You sound rather vehement."

    "Of course I am! Why the hell wouldn't I have an aversion? Would you want your husband snuffling at your feet when they smelled bad?"

    "So does it embarrass you?"

    Jen was taken of guard momentarily. "Well ... I don't know. It just bothers me."

    "Do your feet smell strongly, Mrs. Simmons?"

    "What the hell kind of question is that! That's none of your business!"

    "Its a simple question, Mrs. Simmons. If it will make you feel any better, my feet smell very bad from time to time. Its nothing to be ashamed of."

    "OK, ya they stink sometimes ... there, happy?"

    "I assure you I'm not trying to make you uncomfortable, Mrs. Simmons. I'm simply trying to understand why you have taken such an issue with your husbands newly remembered desire."

    "What do you mean 'newly remembered' ... he wasn't like this when we met or before we married for that matter."

    "Its a childhood trauma that inspired the desire I believe. It has recently resurfaced, but I think the rest should come from your husband."

    "I don't care why ... I just want it to stop! If you can't help him then maybe we should go to someone who can!"

    "The problem is, Mrs. Simmons, that I don't think your husband's condition can be considered a problem."

    Jen was speechless. Not a problem, was this woman nuts! He liked to smelled stinky feet!

    "Why are you ashamed of the smell of your feet, Mrs. Simmons?"

    Suddenly a loathsome memory flooded Jen's head. She was six years old, still Jennifer Woletski … long before she would marry and become Jen Simmons … she was away at summer camp. Jen and her cabin mates were playing "truth or dare" long after the rest of the camp was asleep. Jen had just finished sticking the end of her pinkie finger in her rectum on a dare. All the girls were laughing, including herself. Jen had always been an exhibitionist, even at that young age. The next cabin mate in line was Cindy Lathrop. Cindy also chose "dare". Marty Fletcher dared her to smell Jen's feet for two minutes without stopping. Jen's heart had sunk upon hearing this. She knew her feet were really stinky from a hike that afternoon and she'd been mortified to find no clean socks in her bag. All the other girls had their shoes off, but Jen had keep hers on to mask the stench. Maybe that was why Marty used Jen's feet as a dare for Cindy. Jen was now sure that all the girls had noticed that she was the only one still wearing shoes.

    Before she could object Cindy had grabbed the heel of her shoe and pulled it off. All five girls were sitting in a close circle until Jen's shoe thumped to the floor. The reek of Jen's sweaty foot and crusty sock filled the cabin, sending all of the girl scurrying away. They were all pinching their nose and yelling "gross" and "yuck" at the top of their lungs. Jen's face blushed a deep red. "You have to smell it!" Marty taunted Cindy. Her voice sounded nasally since she had pinched it closed like the other girls. Jen looked at Cindy and saw the girl was in a panic. Her lips were drawn back in a near snarl of loathing as she gazed in disgust at Jen's socked foot. "You have to you have to!" Marty chanted. Again Jen was about to object when Cindy laid on her back and pulled the foot down onto her face. Jen felt air sucked between her toes through the covering of her moist sock as Cindy took her first sniff.

    The girl coughed and began to moan loudly in a pitiful voice. All the girls laughed maniacally and began to chant, "Smell her feet, smell her feet, smell her feet!" Finally Marty darted forward and ripped the sock from Jen's foot. To Jen’s growing horror, she felt the hot scummy skin of her sole come in contact with the soft cool flesh of Cindy's face. Now the poor suffering girl had Jen's slimy sole on her lips, nose and forehead. Another load moan sounded from beneath her foot as Cindy got a sample of Jen's rank foot directly.

    After the two minutes were up Cindy dizzily crawled out from under Jen's foot and everyone clapped. They all insisted that Jen put her shoe back on before they all suffocated. The game continued, though Jen had lost all interest. For the next few turns each girl chose truth instead of dare. Finally Marty chose dare and of course Cindy insisted she smell Jen's foot as well. Instantly the chant went up again. Jen tried to stop it, but her voice was drowned out by the other yelling girls.

    Marty bravely took Jen's foot in hand and pulled off the shoe. She then pulled off the other shoe and sock as well until she held both of Jen's bare feet. She raised the soles in front of her face forcing Jen to lay back onto her elbows. The girls continued to chant loudly as Marty placed her nose in the hollow formed by Jen's arches. Suddenly the cabin went deathly quiet as they all waited to hear the tell tale first sniff. When it finally came it was very loud indeed and sent all the girl squealing in hilarity and revulsion.

    Marty bellowed an inarticulate sound of loathing following her initial sniff. Jen was so embarrassed she felt she might pass out! Marty moved her nose all over the bottom of Jen's feet ... first smelling her toes then her heel then every inch of her soles. Each sniff was punctuated by a choke, cough or groan of disgust. Lastly she spread Jen's toes and sniffed between her big toe and second toe.

    "Oh GOD!" Marty screamed, "I can't do this anymore ... its awful!"

    "Thirty more seconds!" Cindy yelled, "You can't stop yet!" Cindy scrambled across the floor and pushed Marty's face into Jen’s soles. Marty's nose poked between the toes she was just smelling. All the girl's dog-piled on Marty, holding her in place, forcing her to keep sniffing. Jen was near the point of tears.

    "Two minutes!" one of the girls yelled and they finally let Marty go. Marty stumbled to the other side of the cabin casting dirty looks at all of her friends. The last most scornful look she saved for Jen. "Your so freakin’ gross Jen! Your feet smell like Mrs. Cumber's butt!" Mrs. Cumber was a large fat woman from their school, and this sent all the girls into fits of laughter. "Shut up!" Jen yelled at all of them. She wasn't sure who said it first, but they all took up the sing-song chant, "Stinky-Feet-Woletski … Stinky-Feet-Woletski!”

    The worst thing of all was that the nickname name had stuck and spread through camp by the next day. Girls would walk by Jen plugging their noses and then laughing after she had passed. Jen was mortified beyond reason. Maybe it wasn’t such a big deal, but to her it was the whole world.


    Jen hadn’t thought of that incident since she was little. Could that have something to do with why she was so freaked out? No, there was something else … something else she wasn’t remembering.

    Jen’s brow furrowed as she sat deep in thought. Claire took note of the woman’s introspective mood. Obviously Mrs. Simmons was having a memory triggered by the question. It only took but a span of moments for Jen’s memory to play the incident out on the screen of her mind. During which time Claire sat patiently. After some time had passed, Claire felt it was appropriate to intercede. “Are you willing to help me help your marriage?”

    Jen seemed startled momentarily and for an instant her face was open and innocent. As she slowly came back to the present her guarded countenance returned and she again scowled at Claire.

    “Just make my husband knock it off and everything should be peachy.”

    Both women sat in silence for a number of minutes. Jen glanced at her watch and began to tap her foot and drum her fingers on the arm rest of the chair. Well then, Claire thought, I’ll just have to shock her out of her attitude. Let’s push some buttons and see if she jumps …

    “Do you like to suck cock in public?” she asked pleasantly. Jen’s eyes grew large and her mouth dropped open.

    “What?” she stammered.

    “Do you like to have a large cock fucking your mouth where someone could walk in on you? Have you ever had a man cum on your face in a public place? A restaurant bathroom maybe … or a phone both? Have you ever been anally penetrated by … let’s say … a janitor at the school you work at? Maybe in the boiler room … or in the gym by the basketball coach?”

    “How dare you!” Jen shrieked.

    “Have you?”

    “I most certainly have not!”

    “How about with your husband? Have you ever given him a handjob during Christmas dinner at your parents house maybe … in the front seat of the car while he was driving? Would you like to masturbate for me right now?”

    “I’ll sue you! You fucking bitch .. who the hell do you think you are? I swear I’ll …”

    Jen’s tirade was cut short as Claire pulled a sizable silicon dildo from her desk drawer and thumped it on her desktop. “You could use this … my assistant should be due back any minute now … she might walk in on us so you’ll have to be prepared for that. Take my word of it … this is a very effective toy as you can see.”

    Jen was struck speechless. Her eyes flickered from the giant dong to Claire and then back again. Her face flushed and Claire noticed tiny drops of sweat forming on her upper lip and forehead. An image forced its way into Jen’s mind … that of herself, nude from the waist down sitting in her chair, both legs spread wide and hooked over the sides of the arm rests, the dildo clutched in her hand working its way in and out of her pussy, the therapist watching casually from behind her desk. Instantly she was soaking through her panties. Before she knew what she was doing she stood up. Regaining reason she sat back down abruptly.

    “Maybe some incentive is in order,” the therapist said as she stood and reclaimed the dildo from the desk. Jen remained frozen in her chair as the woman approached her. The dildo was offered and she took it in a daze. Now with both hands free, the therapist slowly began to unbutton the front of Jen’s blouse. In seconds her bra was unsnapped and her breasts fell free. Jen continued to remain in shock as her skirt was pulled down to her ankles and then off. Her panties followed suit. Jen was now nude save for her stockings, garters and mules. As in the erotic image Jen had pictured, the therapist lifted each of her legs, one at a time, onto the armrests. Now Jen was spread and her pussy began to drip a puddle on the leather seat.

    The therapist then turned and crossed the office to the window. She pulled a cord and the shades lifted, filling the room with daylight. Jen could see passersby on the street outside and knew she was completely visible. Returning to her desk, the therapist sat and again looked at Jen. A man, and what looked to be his daughter, crossed the street and began to unlock his car. The girl, who couldn’t have been more than twelve years old, looked into Mrs. Evans’s office and spotted Jen. She quickly notified her father and the man turned to see what his daughter was fussing about.

    Before Jen took time to consider the situation she hiked her knees up higher and plunged the dildo, hilt deep, into her sopping pussy. In a frenzy she began to fuck herself with wild abandon. The look of shock on the pedestrians’ faces spurned her to an even more elevated height of passion. With her free hand she inserted a finger in her rectum and wiggled it as she administered the punishment of the dildo. Seeming to regain his composure, the man covered the eyes of his smiling daughter and bundled her into the car. He spared a moment to stare at Jen in further shock before climbing into his vehicle and speeding away.

    Jen had engaged in sexual activities in public more times than she could remember, but this was the first time she was actually seen by someone. The actualization of her fantasy was almost more than she could bare. Jen returned her attention to the therapist and locked eyes with the woman. With her mouth agape and panting, she initiated a staring contest with Claire. Her eyes dared the therapist to look away. Jen was unaware as words pored from her own mouth.

    “Look at my pussy, bitch … do you like watching me fuck myself, bitch? You wanna suck my tits, you wanna lick my asshole? You wanna fuck me?”

    “I’d like to see you suck his cock,” Claire responded.

    Jen jerked her head to the side to see her husband hovering in the doorway. The look of naked surprise on his face aroused her even more.

    “Please come in, Mr. Simmons,” he therapist said in a conversational tone. Brad entered the office still looking at his wife, unbelieving of what he saw. As he passed her on the way to the other chair, Jen pulled her fingers from her ass, grabbed his belt loop violently and fumbled his pants open. In a flash his soft penis was in her mouth and she was sucking hard. Her eyes remained open, looking at the therapist behind her desk. Jen felt Brad’s cock growing erect in her mouth and she bobbed her head faster, sliding its full length down into her throat. She choked, but forced it even deeper, her eyes watering.

    “Can you make him cum, Mrs. Simmons? Spray it on your face,” the therapist suggested in an infuriating normal tone.

    “How ‘bout you come over her and I’ll stick it up your ass, you whore!” Jen taunted before thrusting Brad’s cock back into her mouth.

    “Jen!” Brad yelped in dismay.

    Saliva dripped down Jen’s chin as she worked his cock like a woman devoid of sanity, which wasn’t far from the truth. Her hand worked the dildo like a piston, slamming its full length in and out of her cunt.

    “Oh God! Put it in my ass .. NOW … HURRY!” Jen screamed.

    Brad, caught in the moment, quickly maneuvered to the front of her chair and bent his knees until the head of his cock was level with her anus. Jen pulled her knees until they touched her chest and with both hands roughly pulled him forward, screaming as her ass was filled. Brad began to ride her hard and deep as Jen coached him to go faster. Soon Jen was nearing orgasm, her nails digging into the soft flesh of Brad’s sides.

    Unexpectedly Jen felt a tugging on her shoes. Her clouded mind tried to clear itself. Both shoes were pulled off her feet followed by her stockings. Jen looked past Brad’s shoulder to see the therapist dropping them to the floor. Next she circled behind Jen’s chair and leaned forward over her. The therapist’s heavy breasts weighted on top of Jen’s head and then slid down in front of her face. For a moment Jen was blinded beneath them. Her senses were filled with the therapist’s feminine scent, body lotion and a hint of musky perspiration. Jen then felt the woman’s hands encircling her ankles and her legs being lifted. Before she could stop it, Jen felt Brad’s nose slip between her toes and sniff deeply. “NO!” she yelled in anger.

    Brad’s scream masked her exclamation and she felt his cock quickly pulled from her anus. The therapist moved and suddenly Jen could see again… just in time for her face to be bathed with semen. The therapist’s face hovered to her right and Jen watched as a burst of cum from her husband’s cock splashed the front of her blouse and spattered her chin. The therapist quickly moved towards Brad and again grabbed her ankles. Jen tried to kick but the woman held her firmly and offered the soles again to Brad. He lustfully sniffed her rank feet as her pumped his spewing cock. Again Jen tried to pull her feet away, but the therapists grip was like steel. The sinking feeling returned in the pit of her stomach and something like a repressed memory wavered on the edge of her perception. Something seemingly monumental threatened to break through to her conscious mind. She had a brief image of trees and a path and then
    quite abruptly the memory that had been teasing her mind like a ghost from the past came crashing home:

    It was the final day of camp and Jen had taken about all she could stand of the teasing and name calling. Choruses of “Stinky-Feet-Woletski” echoed in her head. Returning for a very long solo hike she again entered the camp from the less populated side. She stomped towards the first set of cabins like a rumbling thunderhead. All the other girls were in the arts and crafts building and Jen had hopes that the area would be deserted.

    When Jen had turned the corner behind one of the cabins, a girl who she only knew by name stepped out from behind a tree. The girl was Anna Mitchner, or Mitchell … Jen wasn’t sure. She was a small, gangly girl with fuzzy blonde hair and thick glasses. She was pretty in a plain way, but the glasses labeled her as a dork in her classmates eyes.

    “You’re Jennifer Woletski, right?” she had asked timidly.

    “Ya … so?” Jen had responded.

    “Can I ask you something?”

    “What?” Jen asked suspiciously.

    “I’ve heard what everyone says about you … ya, know, about your … ahh … “ the girl glanced down towards Jen’s shoes meaningfully.

    “Go get stuffed!” Jen had barked and started to stalk away.

    “No … wait. Can I … can I smell them?” the girl seemed shocked at what she herself had just asked, but stood her ground, blocking the path.

    Jen had been too angry for words at first. She merely glowered at the girl, her fists clenched at her sides. “Who put you up to this!??” she finally shouted.

    The girl flinched back and her cheeks colored. “No one, I swear …”

    “Well its not funny!” Jen had yelled close to tears.

    “I just … I just want to … that’s all …” the girl had said in a near whisper, backing away.

    “OK,” Jen had sneered maliciously, “you want to smell my feet, huh? You think that’s funny, huh? Fine, you’re going to smell stinky feet! You’re going to smell my feet for real! That won’t be too funny will it!” Jen had grabbed the girl and pushed her into the bushes. Little Amanda went down with a scream of surprise … her glasses flying from her face. “Now you can tell all your dumb friends that it wasn’t so funny after all!” Jen kicked off her hiking shoes and jumped on the prone girl.

    There was a brief struggle but Jen easily overpowered the smaller girl. Reaching down, Jen yanked off one of her socks. She was pleased to feel that it was damp and crusty from her hike. Good, she thought, she how funny she thinks this is! With her free hand, Jen crammed the sock into Anna's mouth. “Taste that!” she shouted. The girl’s eyes grew comically wide and she made a grunting sound from behind the sock. “What’s wrong, jerk … sock got your tongue?” Jen quipped.

    Quickly Jen pulled off her other shoe and sock and spun around so she was sitting on the girl’s pelvis. “That’s right … Stinky-Feet-Woletski and her smelly feet!” Jen yelled as she smacked both of her unwashed, sweaty feet onto the girl’s face. She rubbed them back and forth over the girls nose … spreading her toes and letting the toejam smear on the girls forehead and cheeks. “Smell ‘em! Smell my stinky feet! You like that, jerk! Smell ‘em!”

    Jen could hear the girl sniffing and for a moment she was pleased with her revenge. Jen’s feet were slimy with sweat and foot-funk and slid effortlessly over the smaller girl’s skin. Then she noticed that the girl was smiling around the sock in her mouth. Her eyes closed and she had the look of bliss on her face. Jen started to pull her feet away in confusion, but the girl grabbed both of her ankles and sniffed again deeply. “NO!” Jen had screamed, “Stop it! Let go!” But the girl kept sniffing. Jen’s confusion began to turn to fear. She had no idea what was happening but it scared her nonetheless. She tried to roll away, but the angle was too awkward to brace herself for efficient movement.

    When it was obvious that the girl would not let go, Jen’s fear and confusion turned to fascination and she gazed enrapt at the geeky girl sniffing her feet and toes. She relaxed her legs and watched in stunned amazement as this strange little girl slowly explored every part of her feet with deep and loud sniffs. Each of her toes was spread in turn, the girl sniffing in between. Jen could also hear her sucking and slurping on the sock in her mouth. The little weirdo is sucking up all of my foot sweat, Jen marveled.

    Her attention was broken by a sound on the trail behind her. Jen turned her head to see a group of girls approaching. Before she could act they saw what was transpiring. All of them gapped and covered their mouths in surprise. At first the guilty sensation of being caught doing something bad flooded through Jen. Her adrenaline began to pump. Then she instantly became excited for the same reason she had felt guilty. She watched the girls watch her and Anna and her scalp began to prickle and butterflies danced in her stomach. It was hard not to smile … it was a wonderful feeling.

    Then one of the girls began to giggle. Soon they were all laughing and pointing. Jen fell to her side as Anna rolled from beneath her. The girl’s face was bright red with embarrassment. She looked back and forth between Jen and the group of cackling females obviously in panic. Quite suddenly she burst into tears and ran off down the path. The group of girls began the sing-song litany of “Stinky-Feet-Woletski” and Jen snapped. She waded into the group with flying fists … dropping each face she came in contact with. The girls were too shocked to defend themselves and ran crying down the path to seek safety with the camp counselors.

    The word of Jen’s attack traveled fast and needless to say that was the last time she had heard the dread nickname of Stinky-Feet-Woletski. For some reason, Jen had buried this memory deep in her subconscious. Ever since then she had been self-conscious of her foot odor, but had never dwelled on the reason way. It had always seemed self evident.

    So there it was … after all these years.


    Once again it took only moments for the full impact of the repressed memories to run their course. Brad had just finished cumming and Jen was totally covered in the stuff. Her husband sagged against the desk looking abashed and guilty beyond reason. His cock was still fully erect and appeared swollen and raw. Jen turned her gaze to the therapist still standing beside her Brad. The woman’s eyes drifted back and forth between the two of them. Jen was filled with anger and loathing for the woman, but every time her eyes settled on her own naked and cum drenched body she felt a shiver of excitement. Jen looked down at her own feet and realized she could smell them in the air. The rank aroma of her unwashed feet sent a twinge of shame and embarrassment that rippled across the euphoric surface generated by the therapist’s inspection of her nude form.

    Upon hearing the office door open behind her, Jen was again swamped by the overwhelming excitement of being caught. She could smell the assistant’s perfume and an under current of clean sweat before she entered the room. Hadn’t the therapist mentioned that the assistant was out jogging … I’m not surprised she sweating … its hot as heck out there, Jen thought distractedly.

    “Mrs. Evans?” the assistant asked hesitantly.

    “Yes Betty, please come in won’t you?” the therapist said with a smile.

    She may have seen Brad but she hasn’t seen me yet, Jen thought in excitement. The high backed, leather chair was most certainly obscuring the assistant’s view. Wait till she sees me naked and covered with my husband cum! I can’t wait to see the look on her face! Without realizing it, Jen began to masturbate slowly … all previous misgivings from a moment ago forgotten.

    “Please pull up the reclining couch and grab the restraints from the store room, Betty. I’ll be needing your assistance as well, so be quick about it. Thank you.” Most of this exchange was lost on Jen. She was still in high expectation of revealing herself to the assistant. The therapist then looked down at her and she slowly emerged from the depths of her sexual revelry. “There’s something else I would like to try during this session Mrs. Simmons, so bare with us a bit longer …” Something in the therapists look gave Jen that sinking feeling again. What was this “something” she was referring to? Jen jumped as the sound of the couch scraped up beside her chair. She looked to her left and caught a fleeting glimpse of the assistant as she bent down to fix something to the side of the couch.

    “If you wouldn’t mind helping me with Mrs. Simmons, Betty …” Jen felt herself grabbed firmly underneath her armpit. She looked up in panic to see the assistant bending over her. This woman’s the spitting image of Betty Paige, Jen thought off-hand, her name suits her; then she was hauled from the chair. Jen looked with dawning horror at the reclining couch, now prepared with what looked to be canvas and steel restraints. The therapist grabbed her other arm and the two woman began to lead her towards the couch. Brad looked on as his wife fought to free herself.

    “Let me go dammit! Brad, fucking do something!”

    “Just calm yourself, Mrs. Simmons, this is for the good of your marriage,” Jen heard the therapist remark.

    “Fuck you!” Jen retorted as her bare ass thumped onto the leather couch. Now that she was closer she saw that it was not a normal couch at all but some kind of … well, she couldn’t tell what.

    “Could you help me with the straps, Betty?”

    “Yes, Mrs. Evans.”

    To be continued in Aromatherapy part 3
    http://www.footsniffing.com/image.php?type=sigpic&userid=501&dateline=13150106  05

  2. #2
    Fledgling Footsniffer
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    This is wonderful! Thank you so much for reposting it!

  3. #3
    God Of Footsniffing sniffguy's Avatar
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    my kind of therapy

  4. #4
    Fledgling Footsniffer
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    Where can my wife and I set up a session with Claire Evans? She's just what would do Little Silver the most good!

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