My college years were some time ago and it feels like I need to start writing out some of these stories if I don’t want to lose the memory of them completely. Every one of these stories is completely true to the best of my recollection. You will know they are true because sometimes what happens to me in these stories is just too ridiculous to be made up.
In my later college years I had an on-campus office job. It was easy work, it paid pretty well, but mostly it was fun to be working in an office setting with primarily older women. In the 1980s, office women wore great outfits, and usually this included blouses with shoulder pads and black pencil skirts with pantyhose.
Why doesn’t anyone wear pantyhose anymore? Sigh.
Anyway, I’d flirt and joke and generally just be as fun to be around as possible, and the women in my office would sometimes flirt back. Even though I never really dated anyone at work, I managed to cultivate a reputation as a “ladies man,” a rep I can assure you was unearned. One of my roommates at that time worked in the next building over from mine, and he and I would get a group of our coworkers to go out drinking with us on Wednesday nights after work. We would go to our favorite bar, a little blues club near campus that had great dollar beers and potato skins, and usually blow the whole night just listening to music, getting drunk and trying to get lucky.
This one time we had several of the women from my office with us, as well as a friend-of-a-friend. Patty worked in the offices downstairs from mine, and I’d met her a couple times before but didn’t really know her at all until that night. She was a brassy chick, maybe thirty years old, with bold auburn curly hair that draped over her shoulders, a round face full of freckles, and a short little body packed with curves all over. That night she was wearing a tight little black skirt with a leopard print blouse, and early in the evening she had unfastened the top few buttons, letting an ample amount of her cleavage come out to play. She held court that night, telling jokes and laughing out loud, clearly enjoying herself a lot. And she was cracking me up, and I kept stealing glimpses down her shirt every chance I got.
At one point, though, I got up and hit the men’s room to take a leak. As I was just leaving the bathroom, Patty appeared in the hallway and walked right up to me. I was about to tell her that the ladies room was in the other direction, but before I could get the words out, she pinned me against the wall and started kissing me, sliding her tongue practically down my throat. She reached down and began stroking my dick through my jeans, and I responded in kind. I slipped one hand up her blouse and began tweaking a nipple through her black lace bra. She pulled away with a satisfied look on her face and said (and I swear I’m not making this up), “This weekend I’m going to come to your place, bake you some cookies, and give you a blowjob.”
She then turned and strode right on into the ladies restroom.
I made my way back to the table, disappointed that the seats on either side of Patty’s chair were already occupied, so I sat directly across from her, figuring at least I could make eyes at her as the night wore on. When Patty rejoined our little group, I noticed something that I don’t think I would have otherwise. At some point while she was in the bathroom, Patty had taken off her pantyhose, and now was just bare legged under her skirt. My mind, frankly, started to whirl with the possibilities. I knew some women wore panties with their pantyhose, but I kind of figured that Patty wasn’t that kind. The thought of her being completely bare-assed, going commando in a short skirt, was a hell of a temptation for me and one I wanted to investigate personally.
Patty had a slightly different idea, though. As we sat across from each other at that narrow little table, the jokes and stories started to turn decidedly dirtier. As the drinks flowed, everyone there started talking about their likes and turn-ons, and Patty and I were giving each other fuck-me stares as the conversation continued through the next hour.
But then, I felt something brush against my crotch, lightly at first, but then pushing into my balls with more pressure. As casually as I could, I slipped a hand under the table, and sure enough, it was Patty’s bare foot. I looked across at her and she had a wicked smile on that soft freckled face. With a grin aimed right at me, she raised her arms up over her head to stretch out, and then slid lower into her seat, and now both of her feet were in my lap.
Honestly, no one at the table even gave either of us a second look as I slid my chair a little closer in under the table, and now Patty was using her toes to start pulling my zipper open. At this point, I couldn’t help but be impressed — I think opening a man’s pants with your toes without seeing what you’re doing is expert-level sex play, putting the whole tying-a-cherry-stem-with-your-tongue to shame. She not only managed to unzip me with her feet, but she slipped a big toe in through the opening, plucked at my cock a bit with it, and I was getting hard quick. She then clamped a couple of toes around the head and pulled my dick right up and out of my pants. And then she began gently stroking it between her toes.
To this day, I don’t know how I managed to keep a straight face. I certainly couldn’t manage speech, so I just pretended to listen intently to all the other conversations at the table. Patty, in the meantime, was a true multitasker, and continued jawing with the girl sitting next to her, all while gently brushing the tips of her toes up and down my quivering hard-on. She started talking about her best assets, and how boys always seemed to be looking at her titties. “I don’t even have to show that much,” she said, “Boys love my big ol’ titties!” Her girlfriend giggled a bit.
Turning toward me, she asked, “What do you see first when you look at me? Is it these?” and pulled down her top a little to give me a better look.
I was getting it with both barrels, so to speak. Her rack was truly excellent, and I don’t think my reply was even in English. “Guh,” I blurghed.
She and her friend started laughing harder, and all the while she was stroking me off between her feet, her toes running up and down the length of my shaft under the table. She was gripping me a bit between both of her feet now, really jerking me off. My precum dribbled down a bit, and she worked with the added slickness. Between this being so out in the open and the brazenness of the woman working me over, I could feel myself growing closer and closer to cumming under that dirty barroom table.
It was then that one of my coworkers, a married woman in her late 50s named Susan, seated right next to me, leaned in close to my ear and whispered knowingly, “I know what you and Patty are doing right now.” The look of panic in my eyes must have been clue enough for Patty, whose feet disappeared from my lap almost as miraculously as they’d first appeared.
Susan, for her part, seemed more amused than anything. She glanced down toward my lap while continuing to whisper to me, “You going to put that thing away or just let it hang out the rest of the night?”
Okay. I was a little freaked out, but honestly, what guy doesn’t want to get this much attention. I had never really thought of Susan as any kind of potential partner — She was older, married, but really funny. Super kind and considerate around the office, but a lecherous old drunk whenever we went out. As a man in my 50s now, I have a newfound appreciation for women like her.
I don’t know where I mustered the courage, but I turned to face Susan and whispered back, “I don’t know. I might need your help.”
Without another word she gave me a big smile, reached down, carefully tucked my stiff cock back into my pants, and pulled up my zipper. Now, this action was pretty damn visible to the rest of the table, a few of whom seemed to take notice. My roomie, at the other end of the table, was amused and shocked at the same time. “Hey bro!” he exclaimed, “What’s going on down there?”
I just smiled and laughed. “Susan dropped a potato skin!”
“Yeah, as if!” and other similar whoops and hollers came from all around the table. Susan reached over and purposefully snapped up another potato skin off the table, and everyone laughed some more. I thought about how I would need to get a thank-you gift for Susan, and wondered for a moment what’s the right gift for “Helping cover-up a footjob by hiding my hard-on.” A few days later, Susan actually gave me the perfect opportunity to pay her back, but that’s another (less dirty) story.
In the meantime, I looked over at Patty, who was laughing and smiling. She gave me such a look. The look that said that weekend we would be going after each other like animals, and that the footjob she didn’t complete and the blowjob she promised were only the beginning of the fun she and I were about to have.
But she never did bake me any cookies.
Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/sjxgo9/a_little_under_the_table_mfootjob
That was a truly top-notch tale. A toast to the Pattys and Susans!