wearyfoxes
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The Grading Session-Part 1 (f/m)
She was sitting at the desk next to mine. They had managed to cramp six desks into the tiny TA office, but right now the two of us were the only ones working. We had closed the door so that we could concentrate on grading exams.
"Can you take a look at this one?" she asked me with her red pen in her hand. I sighed and rolled my chair over to her corner.
"I cannot figure out the points on this excercise."
Looking over her shoulder, I tried to figure out the problem. While I was going over her comments, I realized out of the corner of my eyes that she stared down at my sandaled feet again. This early in spring I was usually the only one in our office who didn't wear socks or closed sneakers. And from a conversation earlier in the semester I knew that she liked men's feet, if they were in shape that is.
The thought of a girl looking at my bare feet had always got me excited, as far as I can think back. So it came to no surprise that I wore my sandals even earlier this year than normal.
Teasingly, I moved my foot closer next to hers, until my toes almost touched the leather of her sneakers.
"Well, I don't know..." I began, now crossing my leg over so that she got the full view of what I know she was secretly gazing at.
"I think you could give him another point, given that he answered...," I mused while I kept my sandal dangling off from my foot now.
I knew that at this point she was concentrating on my toes trying to hold on to the shoe more than on the essay in question. She seemed hardly listening.
"You think you're alright with this now?" I asked her looking down at my foot and then back up. She looked at me with a mixture of embarassment and a devious little smile.
"Sure," she mused, "there's just one more thing."
"What's that?" I wondered, ready to stop the tease and head back to my desk.
"I think YOU need help with this excercise," she grinned, tapping the back of my sandaled foot with her pen."
Before I could respond, she had taken my sandal off my foot.
"I don't think we need this one anymore," she said matter-of-factly. With a wink of her hand she gestured me to put my other foot up, from which the sandal was also removed.
"If you are a good boy, you might get these back later," she determined with the determined-yet-friendly style that she used in class with her students. With these words, my sandals vanished in the drawer of her desk, which she locked immediately.
"But don't count on it," she added. "You know, I like your feet much better like this, and I just might have you go home barefoot today..."
I couldn't believe what was happening. Here I was, and one of my deepest desires was becoming reality. Even though I didn't know then that I would be getting more than I had bargained for.
I suddenly also felt really naked around her without my shoes on. For a moment both of us stared at the floor where my bare feet rested next to her sneakers. There was a moment of hesitation, but she knew that there was no sense in going back now.
Tapping against the side of my foot with her shoe she motioned me to put my foot back up. Without a word I complied and put my foot up on her desk.
"And the other one," she demanded teacher-style.
When both of my bare feet were resting on her desk, she inspected them for a couple of seconds.
"You know that your feet are turning me on, right?" she uncapped her red pen.
"I just don't know whether I like your toes or your arch more?!" she mocked quizzically.
"I think, I just have to give you an excellent overall grade for those perfect footsies!"
I watched in awe as she readied her pen. It seemed to take for ever until the tip of her pen came to rest on the top of my foot. Slowly, a large red A+ was taking shape on the skin of my foot. She wrote slowly and diligently, while I surpressed a giggle.
While I felt the pen move across my foot, I realized that I was getting hard.
Luckily, she was too concentrated on her human writing surface to notice.
When she was done, she paused for a moment and judged her work from a distance.
"Well," she pondered with the pen in the corner of her mouth now. "I firmly believe that a grade needs to have an extensive written comment."
She looked me in the eyes knowingly.
"Don't you think so, Mr. Teacher?"
I simply nodded my head in awe, for she was already reaching for another writing utensil from her desk caddy.
'Oh no, not that!' I thought. She was holding a fat black felt-tip permanent marker in her hand.
"This should get the job done, don't you think?" she teased, uncupping her instrument of torture.
I could already smell the chemicals and imagined how bad it must tickle if she wrote on my foot with THAT one.
"Hey, listen, I don't know whether this is such a good idea. I mean, I will never be able to wash this permanent stuff off from my foot, and me wearing sandals and stuff, everybody will see what we did in here!" I tried in desperation.
Her mouth formed a devious smille now.
"Well, then let's make sure to sign your grade in an 'inconspicous' spot'!"
I didn't like the way in which she emphasized the last part, and before I knew it, she had taken my left foot off from her desk and placed it into her lap so that the bottom faced her pen.
"My, what a soft sole you have," she admired, tracing invisible letters a few inches away from my foot.
"I think it will make the perfect writing surface for my comments, don't you think?"
"I really don't know..."
"Oh, don't worry, if we are running out of space, we will just continue with the other one! And don't you think about running away now."
She pointed at my bare feet.
"If you don't want to go to the seminar barefoot tonight, you just sit back and let me do my job!"
I pondered the situation and knew that he had me in her hands. I couldn't possibly be seen without shoes, for while I liked to tease I was highly embarrassed of sticking out of the crowd, especially in front of all the other students and the professor.
I had to comply from here on, and so I hoped that it wouldn't be too bad. Boy, was I wrong!
When she began to write the first word I almost jumped out of my chair.
When the soft felt-tip permeated the skin of my sole with black ink it tickled like hell! I instinctively pulled my foot back and looked at the large, thick "Ex..." that she had written on the ball of my foot, just below from where the toes connect.
She looked at me disapprovingly, slapped my foot and put in firmly back in place.
"If you cannot sit still, we will have to use the tape on your ankles!" she scolded.
"What if somebody is coming in?" I asked anxiously, pointing to the office door.
"Well, let's hope that you are lucky today and nobody will!" she mused waving the pen under my nose.
"And if--..." she looked me in the eye..."we might invite them to help us get this grading session done THOROUGHLY."
To be continued...
She was sitting at the desk next to mine. They had managed to cramp six desks into the tiny TA office, but right now the two of us were the only ones working. We had closed the door so that we could concentrate on grading exams.
"Can you take a look at this one?" she asked me with her red pen in her hand. I sighed and rolled my chair over to her corner.
"I cannot figure out the points on this excercise."
Looking over her shoulder, I tried to figure out the problem. While I was going over her comments, I realized out of the corner of my eyes that she stared down at my sandaled feet again. This early in spring I was usually the only one in our office who didn't wear socks or closed sneakers. And from a conversation earlier in the semester I knew that she liked men's feet, if they were in shape that is.
The thought of a girl looking at my bare feet had always got me excited, as far as I can think back. So it came to no surprise that I wore my sandals even earlier this year than normal.
Teasingly, I moved my foot closer next to hers, until my toes almost touched the leather of her sneakers.
"Well, I don't know..." I began, now crossing my leg over so that she got the full view of what I know she was secretly gazing at.
"I think you could give him another point, given that he answered...," I mused while I kept my sandal dangling off from my foot now.
I knew that at this point she was concentrating on my toes trying to hold on to the shoe more than on the essay in question. She seemed hardly listening.
"You think you're alright with this now?" I asked her looking down at my foot and then back up. She looked at me with a mixture of embarassment and a devious little smile.
"Sure," she mused, "there's just one more thing."
"What's that?" I wondered, ready to stop the tease and head back to my desk.
"I think YOU need help with this excercise," she grinned, tapping the back of my sandaled foot with her pen."
Before I could respond, she had taken my sandal off my foot.
"I don't think we need this one anymore," she said matter-of-factly. With a wink of her hand she gestured me to put my other foot up, from which the sandal was also removed.
"If you are a good boy, you might get these back later," she determined with the determined-yet-friendly style that she used in class with her students. With these words, my sandals vanished in the drawer of her desk, which she locked immediately.
"But don't count on it," she added. "You know, I like your feet much better like this, and I just might have you go home barefoot today..."
I couldn't believe what was happening. Here I was, and one of my deepest desires was becoming reality. Even though I didn't know then that I would be getting more than I had bargained for.
I suddenly also felt really naked around her without my shoes on. For a moment both of us stared at the floor where my bare feet rested next to her sneakers. There was a moment of hesitation, but she knew that there was no sense in going back now.
Tapping against the side of my foot with her shoe she motioned me to put my foot back up. Without a word I complied and put my foot up on her desk.
"And the other one," she demanded teacher-style.
When both of my bare feet were resting on her desk, she inspected them for a couple of seconds.
"You know that your feet are turning me on, right?" she uncapped her red pen.
"I just don't know whether I like your toes or your arch more?!" she mocked quizzically.
"I think, I just have to give you an excellent overall grade for those perfect footsies!"
I watched in awe as she readied her pen. It seemed to take for ever until the tip of her pen came to rest on the top of my foot. Slowly, a large red A+ was taking shape on the skin of my foot. She wrote slowly and diligently, while I surpressed a giggle.
While I felt the pen move across my foot, I realized that I was getting hard.
Luckily, she was too concentrated on her human writing surface to notice.
When she was done, she paused for a moment and judged her work from a distance.
"Well," she pondered with the pen in the corner of her mouth now. "I firmly believe that a grade needs to have an extensive written comment."
She looked me in the eyes knowingly.
"Don't you think so, Mr. Teacher?"
I simply nodded my head in awe, for she was already reaching for another writing utensil from her desk caddy.
'Oh no, not that!' I thought. She was holding a fat black felt-tip permanent marker in her hand.
"This should get the job done, don't you think?" she teased, uncupping her instrument of torture.
I could already smell the chemicals and imagined how bad it must tickle if she wrote on my foot with THAT one.
"Hey, listen, I don't know whether this is such a good idea. I mean, I will never be able to wash this permanent stuff off from my foot, and me wearing sandals and stuff, everybody will see what we did in here!" I tried in desperation.
Her mouth formed a devious smille now.
"Well, then let's make sure to sign your grade in an 'inconspicous' spot'!"
I didn't like the way in which she emphasized the last part, and before I knew it, she had taken my left foot off from her desk and placed it into her lap so that the bottom faced her pen.
"My, what a soft sole you have," she admired, tracing invisible letters a few inches away from my foot.
"I think it will make the perfect writing surface for my comments, don't you think?"
"I really don't know..."
"Oh, don't worry, if we are running out of space, we will just continue with the other one! And don't you think about running away now."
She pointed at my bare feet.
"If you don't want to go to the seminar barefoot tonight, you just sit back and let me do my job!"
I pondered the situation and knew that he had me in her hands. I couldn't possibly be seen without shoes, for while I liked to tease I was highly embarrassed of sticking out of the crowd, especially in front of all the other students and the professor.
I had to comply from here on, and so I hoped that it wouldn't be too bad. Boy, was I wrong!
When she began to write the first word I almost jumped out of my chair.
When the soft felt-tip permeated the skin of my sole with black ink it tickled like hell! I instinctively pulled my foot back and looked at the large, thick "Ex..." that she had written on the ball of my foot, just below from where the toes connect.
She looked at me disapprovingly, slapped my foot and put in firmly back in place.
"If you cannot sit still, we will have to use the tape on your ankles!" she scolded.
"What if somebody is coming in?" I asked anxiously, pointing to the office door.
"Well, let's hope that you are lucky today and nobody will!" she mused waving the pen under my nose.
"And if--..." she looked me in the eye..."we might invite them to help us get this grading session done THOROUGHLY."
To be continued...
