By Dala0220
It was the first day of spring, and the weather reflected it beautifully. The sun was glowing, the sky was an exceptionally unfaded hue of blue, and the temperature outside must have hit 55 degrees at its high. True, I wasn’t living in the tropics, but for a suburb of Chicago it was a breath of fresh air in comparison to the last three months of an arctic hell.
Stepping out of my car and walking to the doors of my high school, I let out an exaggerated sigh of relief that spring break was only 8 hours away. I began to notice that “flip flop season” was around the corner. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a tall, blonde student walking in a bright white pair of sandals with his jeans draped over the majority of his foot. I casually turned my head, trying to extinguish any fantasies before I’d be consumed. My eyes went straight forward following my nose. Again, my vision trailed off to another pair of flip flops belonging to a familiar acquaintance in my gym class. Before the second semester of school, our gym classes were together. We dressed for class right next to each other, and I would always have full visual access to his perfect feet in and out of his flip flops.
Still, I walked forward silently trying to focus on my first class’ mid-semester final. I had just recalled that Shakespeare’s birthplace was Stratford-upon-Avon when I ran into Derrick. Derrick is one of my better friends even though we had only met that school year. He has exceptionally good looks along with a modestly stunning body that he always covers in layers of t-shirts and hoodies. He has pretty long hair for a guy, reaching his chin. If you would like to, you could classify him with the “stoners,” however I feel that that label does him no justice. He’s a remarkably intelligent guy with an off the wall sense of humor. He always wears the same pair of skate shoes. This doesn’t really leave him much room to wear my favorite shoe, flip flops. In fact, I’d only ever seen him without shoes on once. That one experience was quite a moment for me, though. I remembered being absolutely blown away by how ideally perfect his feet were. They were big and meaty, perfectly shaped toes, and they looked incredibly soft. I didn’t make any moves on them, though, and ever since that day I regretted it.
As soon as we started walking together, he started talking about a new girl who worked at Blockbuster with him that he asked out on a date. I wasn’t interested, but I kept the conversation going with a few nods and some empty laughter. Jokingly, he said that I’d have to wait for my date with him. Derrick knew I was gay, and was surprisingly okay with it. After that topic passed, I reminded him that he and I needed to do a photo shoot for a project I was working on in my English class. I had to read 1984, and complete a photo journal of literal and metaphorical ideas taken from the novel. I asked Derrick to model for one of the photos. He had never modeled before, but he was always willing to give something new a try.
After school let out, I dodged the packs of wild spring breakers bursting out of the school. I stood on the sidewalk next to the parking lot waiting for the heavy student traffic to clear. Suddenly Derrick walked out of the doors and smiled at me. He walked over to the sidewalk and immediately put on his hat. “So what are you doing for spring break other than making babies with that new Blockbuster gal?” I asked. Sharply, he responded, “Making babies with you. So are we game for the photo shoot tonight?” I wasn’t planning on the shoot for tonight, but since I was free anyway I agreed. Showing almost cosmic timing, my sister appeared and asked if she could borrow the car to get some pizza with her friends. Derrick offered to take me home so we could hang out and take some pictures for my project.
We pulled up in my driveway talking about ideas for his role in the photo series. I suggested that we put a barcode on him. He liked the idea, but said that it may be too cliché. I said that it reminded me of Toy Story, how Woody had Andy’s name written under his boot. He said, “So are you suggesting you brand my foot? I’m not so sure my foot could take it.”
“Ticklish?” I asked.
“Only for you, Mikey,” he laughed.
We settled on some generic ideas of depression, but the photos ended up looking quite amazing. Sitting on the couch looking at the photos on the TV, he was excited that he could be so good of a model. We picked the final pictures from the bunch, and I took the TV off of input mode to find something to watch. Derrick grabbed the remote and put on Tyra Banks. I thought it was an odd choice for him, but he sat down on the couch adjacent to me on the spot closest to me. We watched the show and talked through it noting every random model pose Tyra made. It was a boring episode featuring some celebrities like Eve talking about sex. The discussion on the show turned to fetishes. My heart sank slightly in personal embarrassment thinking he might find out. Quickly, Derrick asked, “Do you have any fetishes?” I sank further in my seat. My eyes dropped to his feet which I now noticed had no shoes on. My eyes spiked up at the screen trying not to make myself seem creepy. Now, about five seconds had passed since he asked the question. He asked me again, “Do you have a fetish, Michael?” My focus turned to the show again when Tyra brought up foot fetishes. All I could say was, “Yeah. That. Uh.. feet.”
My confession left our friendship in limbo, in my mind. He let out an “oh.” It sounded as though it had a hint of disgust, but it may have only been my imagination. Then, I saw Derrick silently pick his legs up and tuck his feet behind him so I couldn’t see them. I felt completely embarrassed as we sat there silently. He put his hands back by his feet, and I could sense that he was a bit thrown by me. In my moment of defeat, I hadn’t noticed that he was subtly removing his socks. I was awaken from my state when I heard the thud of the leg rest bounce up from Derrick’s seat. He put his legs up, crossing his bare feet right in front of me. I couldn’t help but stare at them. They were so smooth and soft looking yet big and manly. They were even better looking than I remembered. The window behind him lit the tops of his feet shining through his toes as he gently wiggled them. He lifted up the legs of his jeans on his left leg and crossed it over his right leg facing the sole directly at my face. I wanted to shameless stare at his feet, but as I’ve trained myself to do, I looked away. Derrick casually said, “So what do you think of my feet?” I choked out a reply stuttering, “Oh, uh. Haha. Uh they’re.. they’re nice.” He noticed that I was trying to look away, so he said, “Look at them! I need some honesty here. Look!” So he lifted his feet up and dropped them in my lap. Given this opportunity, I tried my best to shake my fears and grabbed his ankles. I picked up both of his feet and gave them an “inspection” giving my best concerned look. He joked, “So what’s the prognosis? Am I going to live?” Driven by a childhood of hiding this kink in me, I set his feet down on his foot rest and said, “Sure. I’m not so sure about me, though.” My nerves were obvious. He slammed his foot rest shut on the couch and said, “You really shouldn’t be embarrassed about liking feet. It’s not like I haven’t known anyone else with a foot fetish. Now let’s try it again.” He walked over to the couch I was sitting on and laid on his back, again presenting his feet on my lap. “Alright. Do something with them. I don’t know. Do whatever you like to do,” he said. I stared up at him lying down. He looked relaxed, and he had his eyes closed. For a good 5 minutes, I gave him a foot massage. I could tell he enjoyed it from the occasional moan. I continued to his toes where I pushed my thumbs up and down each toe. I tried to make it seem as though tickling him was an accident, so I let the tip of my thumb skim his sole. He flinched. I told him, “Oh, uh. Sorry.” “For what?” he said. Suddenly, a scenario popped into my head of what I would do if the situation was perfect for tickling him as I might think of any other time. Then I realized that this was my perfect situation. I decided to play it out. Abruptly, I said, “For this!”
I reached my arm around his legs and threw my wiggling fingers into the soles of his feet. It felt so good to finally release this erotic energy inside of me that I barely noticed he was laughing hysterically already. I began to think of it as if it were a bull riding game. I dug my fingers and nails into his toes tickling them relentlessly. He was bucking around on the couch crying out for me to stop. Each time he yelled “stop” I dug in deeper. Finally, he found the energy to buck right off of the couch. I still had control of his feet. I thought he might be hurt, and I began to feel bad for Derrick. With his right ankle still loosely in my grip, I paused. His chest was contracting heavily, and I let him catch his breath. He gasped, “You like to tickle feet. Wow.” I excitedly said, “Yeah, wow!” I could tell he wasn’t so exuberant about it. His other foot fell to the floor while he caught his breath. “That was interesting,” he said. He rolled over onto his stomach. “Well, Derrick, if it makes you feel any better, I feel better.” He crossed his arms under his chin and told me that he actually enjoyed it. I was happy he thought that, because I was already getting up to go for another round.
I used my index finger to trace the bottom of his right foot. Derrick wrinkled his foot and let out a yelp. I lightly wiggled all of my fingertips over the balls of his feet, and he shuffled his feet away from my hands. I grabbed on to his right ankle, and began tickling his feet slightly more intensely. I heard a muffled laugh come from him, so I scratched his soles all over quite mildly. He let out a roar of constant laughter. My smile became a laugh as he wiggled around the floor. I alternated between the right foot and the left foot for at least five minutes until he pulled his foot away well out of my reach. He kept laughing saying, “Hahaha. Oh god. Isn’t there anything else you like to do with feet?” I chuckled and said, “Nnnnope!”
I let him regain energy as he laid there. He seemed to enjoy the experience, and I was happy. I said, “Oh yeah, so what’s your fetish?” He said, “Oh. I’m really into boobs.” I let out a burst of laughter and said, “Haha, yeah. I can’t help you there”.