A Thing for Feet: a sexy-sweet coming of age Short-read Read online

  A Thing for Feet

  by

  Adira August

  Copyright © 2016 Adira August

  All rights reserved.

  This is a work of fiction.

  Names, characters, places and incidents

  are either wholly sprung from the author’s

  imagination or are used fictitiously.

  A Thing for Feet: a Short Read by Adira August

  Fiction - short story - erotica - foot fetish - new adult

  A Thing for Feet

  Adonis.

  That's what they called me in high school. Girls followed me from class-to-class like I was some class A Hollywood hunk. Not one or two, not loser girls, either. Crowds of them. They'd surround me, some walking backwards, all talking at once. They'd touch me, pull at my clothes.

  It scared the shit out of me. I learned where every classroom was that didn't have a class in the halls I walked thru. I'd duck in and lock the door. And wait. Teachers would break up the gaggle of girls and make them go to class. Then I'd be late.

  Toupée Tolliver, chemistry, would say, "Ah! The God of Youth has deigned to join us. Detention again, Mr. Shore." He'd look over the class and tell the girls not to bother acting up, he wasn't giving any of them detention.

  None of this was my fault. I didn't make us study mythology. None of those girls knew who Adonis was until we all had to research him and Aphrodite and all that crap. The "cult of Adonis belonged to women," Wikipedia says. No shit.

  The "archetype of handsome youth." Fuck my life. It wasn't just the teachers who hated me, it was the guys. I mean, you can't bitch, yanno? They would have killed to have girls hanging all over them. Offering what most guy had to beg for. Weird thing is, I think if I'd taken all of it, they'd have been fine.

  Only I didn't, so guys were always trying to pick fights with me. "Mess up yer pretty face." Like, okay, I was 6'2" by the time I was a junior, so that meant I had to be some superjock, tough guy?

  Hey, I like kicking ass as much as the next guy. In the classroom, in a debate, in a science fair. The gods must have been really pissed to play this cosmic joke. Nerd in a stud body.

  I didn't pick my looks. I mean, okay, I worked out, but mostly because they didn't let girls in the guy's weightroom. I was born blond. Not that white blond Norway shit. Darker, like beach sand. Only any time I'm in the sun it it gets lighter parts shooting through it. So then they started saying I got dye jobs because in the winter, it would grow out darker again. Roots. I took to cutting it super short. Didn't help.

  The face is my face. So it's not lumpy or weird, I guess. Everything's where it should be. Fucking dimples.

  All that was bad enough, but I have this thing. This sex thing. And I sure as shit couldn't tell anybody about that, either.

  Senior year they started locking the empty classrooms, because they caught a couple kids smoking in one. Not cigarettes.

  So I'd walk down the hall with my head down, looking at the floor. At my feet. The girls were still there, crowding around. So I looked at their feet. It was just after Spring break. There were sandals. A lot of sandals. Even in jeans, you could see their toes. Painted, decorated. Hearts, flowers, stripes, stars. Toes with rings or chains or even little bells.

  Some of them wore dresses or skirts. They'd have straps that wrapped around their feet. Ankles. Every step their feet would spread just a little and the straps tighten around their feet. Then loosen. And tighten. Their toes would spread and flatten. Spread and …

  My dick turned into lava rock. I learned to walk with books held over it.

  English Lit was the worst. And best. Ellie Janes sat on my left. She always wore jeans and a t-shirt with some kinda girl thing. Flowers or unicorns or some shit. And she always wore thongs. Flip-flops, not underwear.

  She'd sit back in the chair and stretch out her right foot, and her cuff would pull back and the whole top of her foot would be exposed, and part of her ankle. Sometimes she'd twist around and cross her ankles and I could see her left foot. The inside arch, all pale and smooth and high, swooping down to the mound under her big toe. Her mound was sweet and round and kinda puffy-looking. Pink.

  But it was what she did if she got bored. You know how people drum their fingers on a table? She did that. With her toes. I mean, maybe she wasn't bored, maybe she had to pee or something, but it was just like fingers. Her toes would wriggle and then, one after another, press into her shoe and come back up. A toe wave. Over and over.

  Oh, man. I was barely 18. A boner lasts forever when you're 18. Except for the time I tried to push it to the side when it got caught in a fold of my jeans behind my zipper.

  Ellie was drumming her toes and I was thinking what it would be like to have her foot in my lap and take every pink, round toe pad between my fingers and roll and knead them and wondered if she'd like it or be ticklish and then I thought about holding her foot and lightly running my fingers up and down and she'd fight a little but be laughing and I'd grab her other foot, too …

  Couldn't stand it. I tried to lift up slow so no one would notice. Tried to shift when I did it, to look normal. Like I was just getting comfortable. But the second I slid my hand along my dick through the heavy cloth, I blew my load. In English Lit. In my pants.

  FUCK. MY. LIFE.

  I kinda jumped and yelped a little. Mrs. Casper asked me if I was okay. She was older. At least she liked me. Most women teachers liked me. I told her I had a foot cramp. She called it growing pains and asked if I needed to take a walk.

  Oh hells yeah, I do. Books in front of stain. Not too bad, the underwear caught most of it. So, I got cleaned up in the lav and jerked off again, hoping I'd make it through the rest of class. Down boy. Stay.

  I took to piling my books on the top left corner of the desk, so the teacher would get used to seeing them there. Then I got out my cell phone. Nobody thought anything of holding a cell down under the desk. They just figured you were texting or playing a game. Watching porn.

  I recorded Ellie jiggling her feet, drumming her toes, crossing her ankles, wriggling her left foot so the thong slid sideways. You could see everything.

  And yeah, I do know I turned into creepy stalker dude, okay? I already felt like a shit pervert. WTF was wrong with me, anyway? But it's not like I could make it go away. And, no way I could pay to find foot porn online without my parents knowing. There was some stuff on forums, pictures, but, it just wasn't Ellie with her perfect little round toe pads doing the wave.

  I thought of some ways to approach her. Like say I was thinking pre-med instead of pre-law and I wanted to do an experiment in reflexology and I needed a test subject. I could get a couple posters up of the pressure points and what they stimulated or whatever. Maybe even develop a form she could mark off where in her body she felt anything from the manipulation of her foot. I'm just nerdy enough to do it. Science project.

  Then I'd be thinking of my erection and her noticing. That fantasy went one of two ways. A, she wanted me and loved that I would use her feet. B, she screamed and ran out and told everybody I was a pervert.

  B seemed like the sure thing. And besides, we were two weeks from graduation when I thought of it. No more science projects. So I uploaded the vids to the cloud and watched them in my room or in the bathroom or in my car. Travel sizes from the grocery were the trick. Little bottles of baby oil or lotion, little packets of tissues. Just stick 'em in your pocket.

  **

  Last week of school. I'm in English Lit early, lamenting the loss of Ellie's drumming toes in four more days. She breezes by me to her seat and drops a paper on the floor.

  "Y
ou dropped something," she tells me. Then slides into her seat and ignores the paper.

  Girls were always giving me notes, sticking them through the vent in my locker door or leaving them on my chair. They were always folded up into weird origami shapes. I threw them all out.

  But this was a big sheet of notebook paper. I could see there were a few words on it. So I picked it up.

  I need a foot rub.

  I look at her. She's looking straight at me with a little smirk. She cocked an eyebrow like, "Well?"

  I nod. Once. I bet it would have looked really cool to anyone looking. But I'd pretty much stopped breathing and my cock stole all the blood from my brain and was searching for an escape route.

  A? It's gonna be A?

  Mrs. Casper is talking, gathering up our final papers and Ellie's attention is up front.

  "You have no more work for me, but I know you have several more finals. So, you can study here, or go to the library, or computer lab if you …"

  Ellie got up and walked out. I held my folder over my crotch and joined the thundering herd breaking for the door.

  When I got to the hallway, I could see Ellie at the end, turning toward the smoking door that led outside where there was a big ashtray thing. That was for cigarettes. I caught up to her just as she pushed the door open to go out. I reached over her head and flat-palmed it wide for her.

  As we walk out she says, "You know the house on Boylston with all the lawn ornaments, flamingos and shit?"

  "Yeah."

  "That's mine. Be there at six-thirty. Park in the drive by the garage."

  She walked away. I checked my watch. Eight hours. I didn't know what she really wanted. Maybe I was going to be inside her. Like really all the way inside … oh shit.

  Eight hours. I was eighteen. I had time. I headed for my car.

  **

  The driveway went back around the house to this big two-car garage. She was sitting on the steps of her deck and sauntered over when I pulled up. She was wearing sneaks. No. And little pink athletic socks with a fuzzy ball at the back.

  "Don't look so disappointed," she said, reading my face. "Just keeping them clean for you."

  What?

  "You want to put them in your mouth, right? Isn't that part of it?" She asked. Smirking at me again.

  OH FUCK YEAH! Is what I did not shout. I didn't leap out of the car or make a witty rejoinder.

  I nodded. Again. Pretty sure if I said anything it would have been urphlec.

  "Not too talkative for a state debate champ, are you?"

  "Parents?" I asked. I had to know what the deal was.

  "C'mon. You don't have to put your books over it, now."

  She turned away and kinda ran up on the deck and inside and comes out with a couple beers. And I notice her. Like, the rest of her. She's wearing some kinda short dress with three big buttons in front. Only - not a dress - like a swimsuit cover thing.

  Legs, she had really long legs and these thighs I wanted to pet. And squeeze. And her ass kinda stuck out and lifted the back of the short dress-thing. Her tits weren't so big but they jiggled every step, so no bra. Like soft serve ice cream with a cherry on top.

  I went up and took one of the beers. She still had her hair up, like in school, wound round and a big plastic clip in it. I wanted to take that clip out. And she still wasn't wearing make-up. The other girls always did, but she was just plain. Only now I looked at her close-up ... her face? She was cute. Barely came up to my chin …

  "How old are you?"

  She drank off half her can, her head tilted back. I never noticed girls' necks before. But her throat moved when she swallowed.

  "Two months older than you, sport," she said. "Let's sit. You there."

  She pointed to a deck chair but it was pushed too close to another, face-to-face. I started to pull it back. She put her hand on mine. Her little hand with the slender fingers she could wrap around my - shit.

  "Leave it right there," she said.

  I did. I barely had room for my legs. She stepped right over the arm and settled in hers with her feet pulled up to her ass.

  "See, it's better this way," she said and straightened her legs. She put her feet on top of my thighs, like I was a footrest.

  "You can take them off, if you want. We can talk. I have a plan."

  Okey-dokey, yuppers, yeah, I certainly will, you betcha, oh my fucking god, YES!! I reach for one foot.

  She finished the beer and burped behind her hand. "But slow. Go slow, okay? One thing at a time. I want to remember this."

  So, lava rock is drooling all over and I can feel the hot sticky mess I am even without blowing my load, but, what if this is my only chance? Slow. Okay. She's right. Smart girl, yanno?

  I pick up one foot. My hand cups her ankle and back of her shoe. My thumb moves over her inner ankle bone. Not pointy. Rounded and smooth. Slopes down. I pick at the laces. I notice she's talking.

  " … Myrtle Beach, so he won't be back until Monday. My brother's in the Peace Corps, so he won't be back until December. My mother's at my aunt's college graduation, she's spending the night. And I'm on the pill and we have to have a deal."

  The laces on the shoe I held were all loose and I slipped it off her foot, holding a finger over the little pink fuzz ball to save the sock. I was leaning forward, and her other foot came into view. She put it on top of her sock foot.

  "Hey - I'm talking here," she said. She sounded a little pissed.

  "I heard. Everybody's gone. You want a deal," I said, looking at the little puffs of her toe pads against the stretchy fabric of the sock.

  Wait. Deal? I looked up. "Deal?" Articulate, huh?

  "We graduate Friday, I start at Cal Tech summer session Monday. You're going, where for law school? Someplace out east, I bet," she said.

  "N.Y.U. In August." I didn't mention the scholarship. I knew her family could afford anything she wanted.

  "Yeah, so we're never going to see each other again," she said. "I'm … we're adults, okay? I never, okay, I never did anything with a guy. I want stuff. I'll let you do what you want with my feet you've been drooling over all year, as long as you don't hurt me. And then you give me what I want."

  I could feel pins and needles all over my skin. fuckfuckfuck "You knew? Does everybody know?"

  "Yeah, of course I knew, you never looked anywhere else," she said. "I don't think anyone else knows. Why? You have a girlfriend who doesn't know?"

  "This is all between us, right?"

  She nods.

  "I never did anything with a girl."

  "With her feet?"

  "At all."

  Know how they say somebody's jaw drops open? Only it never happens? Hers did. Crap. And I was so close. Kinda took care of the boner, though.

  "Where's your bathroom?"

  "Inside, right." She pointed.

  It was a guest bath by the kitchen. You know, toilet, sink, little towels you can't use. I turned around to close the door and she was there. With both shoes on. So much for A.

  "I want to watch," she said.

  "You're crazy," I could feel the heat in my face.

  "You have a thing for feet," she said. Couldn't argue.

  "Why should I let you?"

  "That's the deal," she shrugged.

  Hang on. "We still have a deal?" I ask.

  "Yeah. This way's better," she said.

  "Why?" I really needed to get my now cold, sticky, getting itchy dick cleaned up. But I wanted to know.

  "We won't judge each other."

  Yeah, that would be good. Still … "You can't watch me piss."

  "Okay," she agreed. She cocked her head. Her eyes were green. Huh. "What else are you going to do?"

  Are all girls like this? "Just … you can watch. Tell me what you want."

  I opened my jeans and slid everything down mid-thigh. I used one of the tiny towels you can't use and put warm water on it and cleaned myself up. I didn't want to look at her, so I faced the mirror.

&nbsp
; Only she was in the mirror. Her mouth was open again. She was staring at my dick. Which was in semi mode.

  I felt an immediate longing for my lit book. Feet. Remember her feet. You're a grown man now, go with it. Get to the prize.

  "It's huge," she said. Kind of whispered, really. She was killing me, here. My chest went red, not just my face. Shit. And she was a virgin.

  "You never saw an erection?"

  "Online."

  I started wiping at my underwear, to get the precum off.

  "Did you, you know," she said and now she was all red.