by Bo
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Over the past six weeks the environment in the offices had changed completely. Sales were up 15%, attendance had improved dramatically, product development went from 3 months behind to 18 months ahead of schedule and egos were inflated to near mythic proportion. All of this was obviously due to our support staff. If you'd asked us before hand, I'm sure that none of us would have predicted the effect that having all too willing faces to rest our sweaty feet on would have.
Gunnar and I developed the most sensual relationship that I've ever experienced. It became increasingly obvious to me that he enjoyed the experience more the more pungent my feet were. Being the good manager that I am, I started wearing my socks for more than one day. Now my feet are inclined to sweat a lot and smell quite a bit anyhow but when I changed my routine and showering at night rather than in the morning and wearing my socks for three or four days, I could feel the increased enthusiasm and excitement he generated beneath my meaty, funky 11.5's. Having a guy's nose nestled under the hollow of your toes, inhaling deeply, lightly massaging the underside of your arch with his chin and exhaling damp, warm breath on the ball of your foot is always a huge turn-on and even more so when it goes on for hours at a time.
I'm usually pretty aroused by the time that three o'clock finally arrives. As you recall, after three is when our socks can finally be removed. Gunnar came up with an amazing technique of sucking my toes. He'd stick his tongue out slightly and roll it into a cylindrical shape, and wrap it around each individual toe- this is just about heaven on earth. He then sucks and moves his tongue up and down the toe, simulating a blow job, I love having my toes blown this way. It's also a turn on to know that similar scenes are being played out in twelve other offices in the building, not to mention in one hundred and ninety-two other offices throughout the world too.
The twelve of us started scheduling weekly meetings in the conference room on Wednesdays at 5:00pm. We requested that our support staff attend these meetings too. After the first two or three, Mike O'Neill from the License & Patent suggested that for these meetings, we swap support. Mike is the youngest SVP within the company, worldwide. He's kind of a twisted guy if you talk to him for any length of time, though obviously very bright. He's about 6'-2', 195#, with sandy hair and blue-green eyes. He's clearly corporate, pale skin, wire-rim glasses and the most sadistically cute boyish grin. He's prone to raising one eyebrow anytime someone makes a suggestion, looking stern and then bursting into an incredibly husky laugh.
We all thought that it was a great idea as it gave us the opportunity to be a bit more rough and aggressively forceful than we could with our own staff. These meetings became the high point of the week. It's quite a thrill to watch twelve guys sitting around a conference table knowing that twelve faces are being smothered beneath. Graham Baxter, the marketing director, frequently brought a stool in lieu of using one of the rocking/ swiveling conference room chairs. Now, Graham's kind of a big guy, mid 30's, played lacrosse and was on wrestling team in college. He's into breathing deprivation and he'd perch his butt on the 30' stool and literally stand barefoot on his temporary support member's face for the entire meeting, usually about an hour and fifteen minutes or so. He liked to place the ball of his left foot over the mouth of his support and wedge the guy's nose between his first and second toes. He'd then cross his right foot over his left, at the ankle, providing an up close and personal view while he flexed, flicked and wiggled the meaty toes on his right foot. How the guy on the floor managed to breathe for the duration escapes me, but no complaints were ever filed to the Support Grievance Committee after one of our meetings.
Throughout the months that he'd been the new CEO, Ralph Granger instituted many new company policies and added quite a few perks but if you read between the lines, it seemed like he'd merely thought up new ways to have our support staff under our feet for as many hours as possible. One of the first changes he made was to build a Corporate Dining Room. He'd noticed that he never saw any of his Directors in the company cafeteria. Realizing that we didn't like to leave our desks, or more specifically that we didn't want to stop having our feet worshipped, he created a private dining room for the thirteen of us, complete with the necessary provisions for our staff to remain underfoot. Granger also added an executive weight room for us. We were amazed that there were stations for our support staff to be under our feet while we were on the bench, at the cable system and even while standing and using the free weights. My favorite new policy was the monthly, mandatory volleyball game. Though Ralph wasn't into casual days, he thought that the casual atmosphere of the company-wide games would create an increased sense of camaraderie which would hopefully translate to the bottom line. It was funny to notice that at these games, senior management never wore socks with their sneakers. These games lasted about two hours and were usually on days that seemed sunny and in the 90's, and man did our feet stink afterwards. It was one of the only times that I'd seen Gunnar, my support, wince. Once he did that, I reveled in sliding my sweaty soles all over his face though did my best not to seem too eager, after all, I didn't want him to request a transfer. He dutifully spent the remaining three and a half ours under my raunchy, sweaty feet. I was so hard the rest of the day. I usually wore fresh socks for the next couple of days after these games to give him a break.
Of the twelve directors, only two of us that I know of are gay, me and Rick
Johnson, our corporate counsel. We'd had dinner several times, socially, to discuss the trials and tribulations of succeeding in corporate America. We'd naturally become a whole lot closer since our support staff had been provided as he didn't really feel comfortable talking about how horned up his guy Aaron made him. I was always eager to listen to Rick or any of the others for that matter. Though most of the others were probably straight they all mentioned at one time or another, that they really got off having a guy under their feet. The wives of a couple of them had started complaining early on, about the drop in their husbands' sex drive. After being so horned up all day long, who could blame us for taking part in circle-jerks in the private dining room before we went home. The poor guys were usually exhausted by the time they got home to the wife and kids.
Anyhow, back to Rick. He never participated in our end-of-day ritual, as he was too self-conscious to take part and was becoming increasingly depressed as the weeks went by. It seems that he's a foot slave himself, by night. He likes to spend the evening at the feet of his boyfriend Al, a fully pumped truck driver. Rick could hardly contain the frustration of not being on the floor under the desk of Steve Giles, the Systems Manager. One day, Rick came into my office really distraught. I'd just had Gunnar put my shoes and socks on and
I'd sent him home. I thought that Rick was going to burst into tears or something and asked him if there was anything that I could do to help. Little did I know what he had in mind. He told me that he couldn't stand being on the wrong end of the deal day after day, and asked if he could assume Gunnar's position for the next hour or so. Because I sensed that somehow this was crossing a boundary, I was pretty confused. For the past ten years or so, I'd encouraged my partners to worship my feet. Some of them were pretty good, Gunnar was much better, but Rick's performance was unlike anything I'd experienced. For the first fifteen minutes or so, he lay under my desk very lightly kissing my feet all over and licking them with very short, delicate strokes of his tongue. He then started lightly rubbing his face all over my soles, slightly tickling them with his goatee. Realizing that the tickling was getting me aroused, he took his pen out of his shirt pocket and proceeded to run it lightly up and down the sole of my foot. I was trying hard to conceal my pleasure as this was definitely starting to go somewhere that it shouldn't. After giving it my best shot, I gave in and started moaning and wiggling my feet, trying to get them out of his grasp. I finally gave up and let him have his way with my feet. For the next hour, he used anything that he could get his hands on to tickle me mercilessly. The best sensation was a combination of his teeth on my heel, lightly nibbling while caressing my arch with his goatee. I was getting near the point of having to release when I told him that I had an appointment I was running late for. He got up from the floor a new man and pulled me into my lav where he sucked me until I was drained dry. I left him there, grinning like I'd never seen him grin, as he started to relieve himself.
To be Continued...
