Just a Sniff

Hunter was a cute young man, 19, short haircut, athletic young body, big green eyes and eager to please. He'd come to audition for me; my name is Donna Culkins, and I'm a theater director at the small community playhouse in my little town, a lifelong amateur actor and in my older years, a director.

He seemed smitten with me, but that's not totally surprising for young men like him to be attracted to older women. And in all modesty, he had reason to. I'm 63, but very well preserved, with chestnut brown hair tinged with gray, and a tall, lean body kept fairly muscular by constant exercising.

But it wasn't my overall look that seemed to garner young Hunter's attention that night. It was my feet. Naughty, naughty boy....

We auditioned several actors, me sitting in the audience seats, the actors on stage. I was wearing a comfortable v-neck, sleeveless t-shirt that did reveal a bit of my sexy, slightly saggy cleavage, but modestly. But it was down below that seemed to get the boy's attention: I was wearing very tight jeans, skinny jeans they're called, and had on short wool black socks that night, with black pumps on my feet. As I sat, just 10 or so feet from the stage, I crossed my legs, my pant leg riding up to reveal a couple of inches of my slender ankle, and the bottom of the muscular calf there, my shoe dangling as I watched.

When Hunter was up there reading for a part of a young man, he seemed flustered, unable to concentrate, and I couldn't help but notice him trying to catch glimpses of my shin, calf and feet without being too obvious about it. It was flattering, to say the least, and to be honest, I'd never entertained the notion of sexually exciting a young man. Well, at least not with my feet.

"Uh, don't be nervous, Hunter, just be yourself," I finally said, then turning to my assistant, whispering, "I'm going to the bathroom, maybe he'll loosen up a bit."

I lied about that, I just left the theater proper and stood outside, listening. Sure enough, with no one but my capable male assistant to audition for, Hunter's delivery was assured and precise. 'Oh well', I thought to myself. 'At least he's not a gay actor!'

I waited a few minutes, then went back in, where Hunter was finishing up. I sat down, again crossing my long legs, again my pant riding up to expose a tease of calf and shin and that sock, and again Hunter was acting nervous. I smiled, and chatted with my assistant.

"Hunter, can you stick around?" I asked. "Hang out in the lobby? We're almost done, and I'd like to talk to you, one on one."

"Sure thing Mrs. Culkins!" he said brightly, bouncing out of the room.

We finished up the last auditions and I walked to the lobby, where Hunter dutifully waited, noticeably brightening when I walked in. I bid the others goodbye, locked the lobby door and motioned for the boy to follow me back into the theater, which he eagerly did. I walked slowly to the stage, pulled up a chair and sat down -- crossing my leg to give him the show. Again, he went flush in the face, and nervously looked away, to the wings, the ceiling, anywhere but at the slender patch of flesh above my sock and the foot wearing it.

"Hunter," I said somewhat formally, "I'm prepared to offer you the part, would you like that?"

"Oh, yes, Mrs. CUlkins, yes!"

I smiled, and kicked off my shoes, crossing my legs. They clattered off the stage, landing at Hunter's feet. He looked down at them nervously, and I could swear I heard him sniff the air for their scent.

"Oh, sorry," I giggled. "Be a dear, pick them up and bring them on stage..."

He nervously obeyed, picking them up gingerly, one in each hand, soles in his palms, the openings up, chest level. The foot-loving teen was clearly trying to get a whiff!

He walked onto the stage, standing before me.

"It's so hot, I just want to get comfy," I sighed, putting my feet flat on the floor, pulling up both pant legs to the knees, revealing my very long, very smooth calves and shins above the socks he couldn't stop staring at. "You don't mind?"

"No, God, no, not at all!" he gushed, stopping himself when he realized his forceful response was too telling. "Uh..no..."

I sat back, legs crossed, bouncing, the muscular flare of the top leg bulging meatily around the shinbone. I looked up at him as he stood, my shoes still in his hands.

"Tell me one thing, Hunter," I said with mock sternness. "Do my feet and legs and shoes and socks...excite you?"

His face went white, his head shaking side to side, his mouth open, trying to lie.

"Smell them," I growled, a slight smile on my puckered lips. "Go on, smell your director's stinky shoes! Don't lie, I know you want to! In fact, you want to smell my feet, too, don't you? You couldn't stop staring at them and my legs when you were auditioning, it made you nervous, didn't it? The thought of them, so cheesy and ripe and nasty, the smell...the taste? Admit it. Admit it or you don't get the part. It's that simple, really."

He stared at me and then at my shoes in his shaking hands, then at my meaty, muscular legs and those dirty black wool socks. Ashamed, he nodded, head tilted down, toward my shoes.

"Very well, that's out of the way," I sighed. "Now smell. Smell those filthy shoes you're holding and maybe we can work that nervousness out of you. Smell them!"

He balked, unsure what to do. Impatiently, I snapped my fingers, pointing to the floor before me.

"Kneel," I barked. "Here. Now."

He obeyed, kneeling before me.

"Put your hands on the floor, by my feet," I said sternly. "And put my shoes on my thighs."

Gingerly, he placed a shoe on each of my thighs as I put my feet flat on the floor. He put his hands down, palms on the stage. I lifted my sweaty feet and put them on his hands, pinning them flat, twisting them until the bones dug in and made him wince. In this position, his face was over my thighs -- directly over my shoes.

"Smell them, one by one," I said, sitting up straight, my arms folded over my chest. "Do it."

He groaned and I swear he came in his pants as he dipped his face to my shoes, sticking his entire face in one, inhaling deeply, moaning from the scent, a heady mix of sweat, leather and foot funk, going from one to the other, not wanting to miss any of it. I smiled down at him, the back of his head bobbing left to right and back again, his hands squirming under my socked feet.

"That's a good boy, Hunter, that's a good boy," I hissed. "It's the only way..."

I let him devour my foot stink for a few more minutes, knowing it was driving him crazy, before pushing his face away and tossing my shoes to the side.

"Did you like my scent, boy?" I growled, leaning forward to pinch his face in my bony hand, eye to eye with him. "Was it stinky?"

"Yes, Mrs. Culkins, so stinky!" he said in squeaky voice.

"Lie down," I said sharply, releasing his hands from my feet and sitting back, crossing a leg. "On your back."

He quickly obeyed, his face inches from that dangling, bouncing foot, the dark sock above him. They smelled pretty rank, I had to admit.

"I haven't washed them in awhile," I said with a dark laugh. "Can you smell my dirty sock in that nasty old foot?"

"Yessssssssss," he moaned, inhaling deeply.

He tried moving his head up, anxious to take that socked foot in his mouth. I held it aloft, just inches from him, teasing him, as he sniffed the foul air around it.

"Just a sniff," I growled, wiggling the foot, knowing he was watching the big bulge of calf muscle above that sock as I did. "Just a sniff...."

He was going nuts, the poor boy, sniffing and gasping for more, inhaling deeply. The smell was sharp, pungent and captivating as he moaned beneath that socked foot. I looked down to his crotch. His thick cock was clearly visible in his pants.

"You naughty boy!" I growled. "You...you have an erection? From sniffing my dirty old foot and sock?"

His hands shot to his crotch, covering it up, and he tried to roll away. I grabbed him, laid him flat again and got up, lifting the chair and putting it over his face, the legs of it surrounding his head, the front pinning him to the floor. I quickly sat down again, facing the back of the chair, wrapping my legs around the sides, curling my feet and putting them on the lower rungs, wiggling my toes which were now just about brushing his trapped face.

"Sniff them!" I snarled. "You're trapped under me, boy, you have no choice! Sniff my dirty granny feet!"

He was beside himself, a trapped animal sniffing the air around him, the wet stench of my socks enveloping him. I wiggled my toes, bunching up my calves as I did, his eyes frantically drinking it all in along with the scent of my filthy socked feet.

"Mmmm, I have sexy old legs, don't I?" I teased, running my hands to my calves, massaging and caressing the muscle beneath the slightly wrinkled flesh of them. "Bet you'd love a taste of them, run your tongue over that silky skin, licking the salty sweat, and then down to my dirty feet, peeling off my wet socks and licking so slowly the wrinkled old soles, the nasty old heels, sucking it into your mouth and the feasting on my long, dirty toes!"

"Oh GOD YES MRS. CULKINS!" he screamed, struggling under the chair.

"Well it's not going to happen, tonight you get just a sniff," I teased with a giggle in my voice.

I kept him prisoner under my chair for 10 long, tortured minutes, hearing his desperate inhalation, watching him hump the air, hips lifting and falling, occasionally rubbing himself.

"Do NOT touch that penis, young man!" I'd scold him when he did, his hands falling away with a moan.

When I finally let him go and stood up to remove the chair, the poor boy was practically delirious with want. I decided to ramp it up a bit, sitting in my chair, lacing my fingers behind my head, my armpits glistening with sweat. His eyes widened as he knelt before me.

"Just a sniff, boy, just a sniff," I growled. "Smell Mrs. Culkins' sweaty armpits, go on, do it!"

He moaned, shuffling to my left, his nose a millimeter from my sweaty pit, a thin layer of stubble showing, inhaling deeply, devouring the crisp, sexy body odor. I let him linger for a full two minutes before ordering him to the other pit, and he shuffled eagerly to it, hands on his thighs as he squatted next to me, his nose close to the moist armpit he longed to lick.

"You want it, don't you boy?" I teased. "You'd love to stick your tongue out, lick that nasty sweat out of my pit, put your mouth on it, suck the salty, stubbily flesh, eat it all out, eat my grimy old-lady armpit stink!"

I couldn't believe the words coming out of my mouth, but it was making me nearly as crazy as the boy smelling me, my pussy tingling in my tight jeans. I had to ramp it up even more, so I stood, turning away from him, hands on my hips. I have a great ass for an old lady and in my tight jeans, it packed the snug material.

"Put your nose right up to -- but not IN my asshole!" I snarled over my shoulder. "And take a deep, deep sniff, but only a sniff boy, only a sniff!"

He moaned loudly, his face just a hair away from the ass he wanted to devour, smelling the fun of it.

"How's the smell of my granny asshole?" I teased, wiggling it side to side, clenching the muscles, making the flesh dance in the tight denim. "Smell ripe, nasty and raw?"

"Smells...smells so bad, Mrs. Culkins!" he gasped, inhaling sharply, the crisp scent of my ass that had been trapped in pants all day assaulting his senses. "Smells..so...GOOD!!!!"

I laughed and let the boy sniff at my butt for a few lingering moments before walking away, leaving him sniffing the air where it was, a desperate young man full of the scent of me, just the haunting, teasing memory of my smell still in his nostrils.

"You've performed well, and I trust you'll do equally well in my play, young man," I said, sitting back in the chair, crossing my legs. "And just to show you I'm not totally heartless..."

I snapped my fingers to have him lie at my feet, his crotch below the dangling one. I leaned over, and as he watched transfixed, unsnapped his pants and pulled out his long, thick cock, the head smeared with pre-cum that had oozed there from the last solid hour of being tortured by my scents.

"Nice, very nice," I cooed, tickling the tip with my nails, watching him twitch and squirm, trying to hump my hand only to be denied.

"Take my socks off," I said sharply, and he obeyed, with trembling hands, peeling one off then the other, revealing my long, bony toes, veiny insteps, wrinkled old soles and yellowed, calloused heels. "Now, smell them!"

He almost cried, bringing them to his face, rubbing them madly over it, groaning, inhaling the nasty, sweaty scent, trying to force them down his throat. Angrily, I brought my feet down and slammed his huge balls, making him scream.

"I did NOT tell you to lick or suck my filthy socks, young man!" I yelled, capturing his balls between my soles and squeezing them purple.

He stopped, moaning in pain and let them rest on his face. I smiled, and had an evil idea. I grabbed one of the socks and used it to tie tightly around those aching balls, pulling them up and cinching it off, his nuts going marble smooth and blue, his beautiful cock bobbing in the air. I took the other, thankful I'd worn a big, floppy pair of woolen ones, and stretched the opening wide, slipping it over his head and face. It was a struggle, and the material was at the ripping point, but I succeeded in yanking my stinky old sweaty sock completely over his head, positioning the foulest-smelling part directly over his nose and mouth. His breathing was frantic, deep and measured, comical almost as he gasped for air completely encased in the dirty black sock of a woman old enough to be his grandmother.

"There, there's your stinky treat!" I laughed, sitting back and clamping my silky, wrinkled insoles against his bursting cock. "And this, of course. Sniff that sock, boy, sniff it as my feet work your prick!"

Using his gushing pre-cum for lubricant, I stroked that gorgeous dick up and down, feeling its heat, watching it thrust in and out of my wrinkled old feet, taking the tip inside it, twisting my feet side to side, feeling and watching him squirm madly, his moans from inside the sock desperate and wanting. I'd vibrate my feet on the tip and then slowly work them down the shaft of his big cock, wiggling them side to side, like you would twist your palms together around a stick trying to start a fire in the woods.

The poor boy was delirious with pleasure and I knew he was within seconds of spurting his hot seed all over my sexy old feet. I sat back to jerk him, sneaking a hand into my pants to play with my superheated, hairy pussy, fingering the clit with my thumb and ramming the other fingers into my dripping hole.

"Don't cum...don't cum boy, don't you cum," I groaned, working his dick harder, jerking it up and down in my feet, the bottoms of them slamming over and over into those giant bloated balls made bigger still by being tied tightly in my dirty black sock. "Don't cum...."

I knew he had no choice, and within seconds, I came as he did, from my self-inflicted diddling but mostly from watching his cock explode in my feet, shooting thick ropes of sweet boy cream high into the air landing in long, thick stripes up and down my shiny shins, running over my muscular calves and completely soaking my feet. The kid came a ton, long and hard, and finished just as I did, groaning and sitting back, exhausted.

"Well, Hunter, I told you not to cum, didn't I?" I growled in mock anger.

"I'm so sorry...tried not to...couldn't help it..." he panted, his face still encased in my dirty black sock.

I yanked it off his head and made him kneel at my cum-soaked feet. He looked at them nervously, his big cock drooping between his legs.

"Sniff," I growled. "Sniff that cum on my feet!"

He groaned and obeyed, gingerly sniffing this time, not really wanting to inhale his own cum vapors, but welcoming them because the acrid stench of my dirty old feet was mixed in with it.

"Now lick," I snarled. "Lick your filthy cum off my feet, my toes, my shins and my calves!"

"But Mrs. Culkins," he started to say warily.

Angrily, I stood up, turned around and scissored his neck in my lower calves, his face inches above the thick blanket of spunk on my feet. I squeezed hard with the muscles and bones of my vicious lower legs and knew he was going dizzy.

"I can and WILL knock you out in the legs you find so sexy young man!" I growled, hands on my hips. "Now I'm going to ease my scissor squeeze just enough for you to EAT THAT CUM OFF MY FEET!"

I let him slip his face down to the cooling soup of his spunk on my feet and laughed as he slurped it into his mouth, gagging at the taste and texture but bravely gulping it down. He lapped madly at the sexy flesh of my feet and I let him out of my legs to kneel and lick the rest from the insteps, then my toes, sucking them into his mouth, feasting on the jism and foot sweat, and then licking up and down my shins and dancing calf muscles, attaching his mouth to the backs of my legs and sucking the flesh clean.

Finally, I let him stop to sit back, his face clumped with cum as I sat down and made him pull my socks back on my feet. I pulled the jean legs down over my shins and calves and stood up to walk away. He followed me into the lobby where we locked up and walked outside.

"I expect you at rehearsal early, Hunter, a half hour before, and to stay for at least a half hour after," I said as I got into my car. "As time goes on and you come along and grow into the part, you will be rewarded. At first, with just a sniff...."

I started my car and powered down my window as he stood obediently beside it. I smiled, reaching out to cup my hand into his crotch, squeezing his young balls until he winced in pain.

"And then we'll progress to other things," I laughed, driving away and calling back "If you're very, very good..."