written by Footpath
original source of the story was Unknown source
My divorce was finalized last week. I felt lonely and worthless. My self-esteem was as low as it had ever been. I needed company… companionship.
One night, at a nightclub, I met a beautiful young lady. We dated a few times. After a few dates, we were in my apartment and I told her that I felt despondent and low as the ground. She said that if I was really that low, someone might step on me. I said, “Go ahead, be my guest, join the crowd and get in line.” She then said, “Get down on the floor, you should feel what it is like to be a floor.”
I laid on the floor, near the kitchen counter, face up with a clear view of this beautiful young lady towering over me and in complete control. She stepped up on my chest and just stood there looking down at me smiling. I said, in a strained voice, that she wasn’t too heavy. She said, “Oh no, then how about this?” With that little warning, she jumped up in the air and came down in exactly the same spot on my chest. It knocked the wind out of me and I was coughing. She stood there laughing and said, “Not heavy enough huh?”
I looked up in her eyes and said that I could take that with no problem. She put her hands on her hips and said, “I bet that I could make you cry uncle without jumping.” I said, “What’s the bet?” She said, “20 bucks.” I agreed to the bet. I felt like I was getting a deal because she didn’t know I had a deep and abiding trample fetish.
She smiled, stepped off my chest and stepped back into her shoes. I had not thought of that while she was standing on my chest and made the bet. Her shoes were not stilettos but were 3″ high heels about 2″ thick. As she stepped back up on my chest, she leaned back on her heels with a devilish grin on her face. I winced in pain because the heels were sinking very deep. She started twisting both heels with her weight focused back on the heels. I couldn’t take it. I lost the bet.
I think the thick heels hurt more when they are twisted because it gathers up more flesh. The skin may tear if the lady continued twisting with her full weight on her heels. I’ll try to work on that. Anyway, I gave her the money and thanked her profusely.
I then told her that I would pay her 50 bucks if she would be willing to try something different. She smiled and said, “And what would that be?” I said, “I bet I could take the weight of the front tire of your car… the combined weight of you and the car.” She said “Sure,” without even asking any questions. I walked her to her car and to my great relief, her car was a Honda Accord.
I remember that she told me she bought a new car. I forgot the make but I did recall that it was a compact size. Thank GOD that it was NOT a big, heavy lead sled. The ratio of the girl’s weight to that of the car is small. I knew from that point that this lady had a little sadistic streak. I was nervously looking forward to our S&M.
I asked her if she was free to run over me Saturday evening at about 8 PM. She said, “Sure, but where?” I thought for a moment and nervously suggested the Town Park. I knew of a good spot just off a trail and just off the end of the parking lot. It was near some woods on one side and a small clearing on the other side, which was ideal for privacy.
I found a small grassy swale, just deep enough for my rotund body. It was dry and it was nature’s ideal spot for the occasion. I decided to lay on my back in the swale and get between the front and back tires right under the driver door. I had plenty of clearance under the frame of the car. With my head directly under the driver’s seat (perfect viewing when she got into the car). I extended my right hand (fisted) directly behind the front tire. I asked her to move backward very slowly. She started the car and put it in reverse.
With her foot poised on the break, she gave the car just enough gas to mount my fisted hand. She stopped the car. She opened the driver’s door, leaned out and down and asked me if that was enough and if I was OK. I said that this was feeling good and I could take more. So she raised her foot off the brake and gave gently pressed the accelerator to move the powered tire off my hand to my wrist, then onto my forearm, then onto my upper arm.
The engine was laboring a little so she gave it a little more gas. The warm, soft but heavy tire was now clutching and crushing my shoulder and approaching the center of my chest. I could clearly feel several sensual things… The smooth power of the engine and the brake under the control of her powerful legs and feet… the subtle angular turning movement of the tire as she teased the steering wheel back and forth… and the movements of her body seated in the vehicle.
Once the left front tire was centered on my chest she again stopped the car. This time she put the car in park and got out of the car. As I felt her weight leaving the car it rose about a half-inch and she again asked if I was OK and if I needed anything. I replied that I needed to take a piss and that I had a hard-on. That’s all she needed to hear.
Without any warning, she jumped onto my crotch with her heels on my now throbbing member. As she alternated between my groin and my stomach, I came in my jeans just as she reached down and asked for the money. I gladly (and quickly) gave it to her since the car seemed to be getting heavier. She said, “Thank you” and jumped back into the car. I could really feel the impact of her weight hitting the driver’s seat. Much of that force was transmitted to the tire planted on my chest.
She put the car in reverse and rolled off my chest, down my upper left arm, down my forearm, onto my wrist and over my fisted hand. Again, I came in my jeans as I closely inspected the tread marks along both arms and across my chest. I thanked her and expressed my wish for an encore sometime soon…maybe my head, stomach or penis? She said, “Sure, anytime you’re ready and willing, just call me a day or two ahead.” With those words, my hard-on was returning.
I wish I could do this on a daily basis or at least once a week.
Ain’t life great?