2nd Grade Teacher
      Submitted on 10/06/05


When I was in second grade, I had a teacher named Mrs. Singleton.  She was a 
chunky lady who, when I think about it, was meticulous about her appearance. 
I distinctly remember her knee-length dresses, horn rimmed glasses on a neck 
chain, many bangles around both wrists and her long strawberry blonde hair 
whipped up into a beehive hairdo.  Furthermore, I remember her nails, both 
her fingers and toes sported very long nails.  By today's standards she 
would be a trend-setter but back then, she was a freak to keep her nails 
that way.  She always kept them in a curved shape but a little on the pointy 
side- -beautiful by any standard.  Her nails were almost always painted and 
I don't ever recall her breaking a nail.  Those long toenails were the 
perfect compliment to her long but fat toes.  Because of the length of her 
toenails, she was always in open-toed shoes or slippers.  I remember that 
she was cautious to keep her feet clean too.



I remember her leading us through an art exercise where we were all laying 
prone on the floor and drawing pictures on posterboard.  Initially, she was 
clomping around on high heeled, open-toed shoes.  She was becoming 
frustrated in attempting to tiptoe around our projects without ruining them 
by accidentally stepping on them.  Finally, she took her shoes off and 
instead of avoiding our projects, she now targeted them, deftly hopping from 
one project to another, to keep her feet clean.  I remember her toenails had 
a subtle downward curve to them and as she hopped around, her nails 
contacted the posterboard, creating a slightly hollow clicking sound that 
caught my attention.  I found that my attention was diverted from my task as 
I followed her feet around with my eyes.  I was reared up in a sitting 
position so I could see over the other students.  I could see her pointing 
with her toes as she critiqued one project after another.  I also saw her 
touch a student on the arm with her toes and another student's shoulder was 
brushed with her toes while being instructed and this view excited me as I 
waited for my turn at instruction.  I purposely screwed up the proportion of 
my subject matter and distorted a few features.  Now it was my turn as she 
hopped onto my poster.  I remember the gentle tug of the poster as she 
landed- -creating a connection between me and her feet.  I was transfixed on 
those beautiful bare feet standing on my poster, inches from my face.  As 
she lifted her foot and pointed to my intended mistakes with her toes, I was 
studying the subtle footprints left behind on my poster.  Her right ankle 
was maybe five inches from my left cheek when I got an unexpected surprise, 
I could smell an odor emanating from her foot.  I found my neck craning to 
get closer to the incredible smell which compelled me.  As she instructed me 
to erase my mistake, I missed it, requiring her to repeat her command.  I 
missed it the second time as I filled my lungs with her lovely foot stench. 
She placed her right toes on the wrist of my left hand- -my drawing hand, 
and gently shook my arm to get my attention.  I felt her hot, moist, and 
consequently sticky toes.  I looked up at her and apologized.  She sported a 
broad grin and told me to pay attention as she put her foot down on the 
poster again.  I reached for my eraser on the other side of her feet.  My 
reach caused my head to dip near the floor as my lips and nose came to 
within an inch of her right toes which she lifted and splayed as my face 
approached.  It happened very quickly and my upper lip was gently impressed 
by the end of the nail on her big toe for most of a second.  Had I opened my 
mouth and pressed further. . .well, you know.  I blindly groped for the 
eraser without success, drinking in the smell.  She lifted her left foot and 
grabbed the eraser just beyond my reach between her toes and stepped on my 
outstretched, upturned right hand.  I heard the almost imperceptible 
 "shoosh" sound as her sticky foot parted from the paper.  I was captured. 
I followed along as she instructed, making the appropriate changes to my 
poster.  She took a minute to flex her firmly glued feet, methodically and 
incrementally peeling them loose of the poster.  As she hopped away, I 
glimpsed her clean, pink, soles and then studied the moist footprints that 
were quickly drying and disappearing from my poster.



I knew she put kids under her desk for being bad and I needed to be near 
those feet again.  I knew that if students didn't pay attention in class, 
she would put them under her desk for about a half hour as punishment.  The 
following day in class, we were reading a story out loud, taking turns, each 
of us reading one paragraph.  When it became my turn, I chose to reread the 
paragraph just read by another student.  True to form, she admonished me for 
day-dreaming and commanded me to get under her desk and follow along as 
others continued the exercise.  With book in hand, I took my place, sitting 
upright, cross-legged on the floor.  I watched her feet and toes flex in her 
shoes as she prepared to pull her chair toward the desk, sealing any exit I 
may have had.  Her left foot was directly in front of my crossed ankles and 
her right foot was further away from me.  After five minutes or so, I 
watched as her right foot flexed in an effort to unglue itself from the 
shoe.  As she worked her foot free of its bondage from the shoe, I started 
to become excited again.  Her bare foot swung across the front of my face, 
her dagger nails just missing my face by a narrow margin.  Her right leg 
crossed over her left at the knee and her foot was aloft, floating in front 
and to the right of my face.  Her ankle was ever so near my lips and the top 
of her foot was wrapped around my right cheek without touching.  I smelled 
the stench of her foot mingled with the hint of a subtle perfume.  She 
flexed her foot, lifting her toes so that the tops of them now contacted my 
cheek just below the temple.  She slowly drew her foot back toward her, 
scraping her toenails across my cheek.  As such, she assessed the topology 
of my facial features.  When her toes had come fully forward, she lifted her 
foot so that her toes crossed the front of my face.  Then she stepped firmly 
onto my face, her big toe centered on my lips and her other toes covering my 
chin.  My head was pushed backward an inch until it was trapped, softly 
contacting the wall of the desk.  The heat of her sticky foot was heavenly 
and the smell filled me with desire.  I breathed noisily through my nose, 
over the top of her big toe.  As the moments ticked by, I felt her foot 
adhering itself to my face.  I wanted a taste of her foot badly.  I parted 
my jaws gently, my lips glued together by her toe.  In the gap between my 
upper and lower teeth, I curled my lips inward just enough to let my tongue 
press through.  I gently swiped from left to right and back again.  The 
taste was exquisite.  I didn't think she could tell but her toe jerked, 
releasing pressure for only a moment- -an involuntary reaction to being 
tickled yet she made no attempt to remove it and the pressure was instantly 
reapplied.  The pressure on my lips pressed between her big toe and my teeth 
was causing my lips to hurt.  I opened a little further to move the pinching 
to a different part of my lips.  Her toe began to push into my mouth and the 
pinching sensation worsened.  Through all of this, she never looked down.  I 
heard her discussing the previous day's homework with another student.  I 
was forced to open my teeth until the pinching sensation ceased. 
Commensurate to the gap between my teeth, her toe entered my mouth until her 
toe had pressed itself completely inside my mouth.  It now contacted my 
tongue.  My mouth open, I now breathed easier through my nose and mouth.  I 
couldn't tell if she knew or not- -I could only suspect that she had to have 
known.   After about ten seconds, I grew the courage to gently rub my tongue 
against her toe.  Slow and trepid, I licked at that pudgy mass of tasty 
flesh.  I studied the underside of her long pointy toenail that extended 
about three quarters of an inch beyond her toe, with my tongue.  When she 
felt my tongue working the underside of her toenail, she began to flex her 
toe, rubbing my tongue.  Now, I knew that she was aware of the situation! 
Back and forth, her toe grazed over my tongue, caressing it.  I gently 
closed my lips around her soft, uncalloused, animated toe and slowly applied 
suction.  The taste was sensational as it exploded over the variety of 
sensors on my tongue.  As my focus narrowed to her appendage in my mouth, my 
senses faded with regard to everything else in the classroom.  I worked my 
tongue over, under and around her toe.  I thoroughly cleaned under her nail, 
pressing my tongue firmly against the end of her toe in an effort to pry 
deep under the nail.  I worked my tongue over her nail, firmly working the 
edges and cuticle.  She lazily rubbed back and forth in my mouth.  This 
mutual appreciation continued for what seemed like fifteen minutes until my 
half hour was finished.  At that point, she pulled her foot forcefully from 
my face, tearing her sticky toes free of my chin and issuing a "Pop" sound 
from my lips when the suction had been broken.  I looked at her foot as her 
toes walked themselves into her shoe.  Her big toe glistened and appeared a 
shade more pale than the others.  In addition, it was pruny, exhibiting many 
tiny wrinkles over the surface of her toe.  I felt wonderful and enjoyed my 
sense of accomplishment as I gazed over the physical reminder which proved 
that this was more than a memory.



It was my only opportunity to partake of her toes because the school year 
was virtually at its end.  Arguably, she was within her rights to claim 
innocence because she never looked to see what was happening- -avoiding the 
opportunity to confirm any illicit activity.  There was however, an 
ear-to-ear grin and quick wink on her face as she commanded me to take my 
seat.  It was a secret that I am pretty sure stayed between us- -until now, 
that is.  Now you know too.



From your fellow foot fetisher, Toesuckr