StarkMaximum
TMF Poster
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- Dec 16, 2004
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It was a quiet, peaceful night outside my window, and I was trying to read my magazine. Unfortunately, my own mind wouldn't let me. I had been staring at the words on the page, the same page I had been "reading" for about half an hour. But, somehow, my mind had leapt onto other things to think about.
It's hard enough to be gay, as many people in the world know. And it's hard enough to be a foot fetishist. But, of course, I had to draw a bum hand in life by being a gay foot fetishist. Every once in a while, I liked to ponder what in my life led me down this path. It's not something I'd change, but it'd be good to know where exactly I came from, in a way. But I generally don't let it bother me. Especially not since college, when I met him.
Early on in college, I met a guy. His name was Richard. His friends called him Rick, myself included, but when I felt annoyed at him, I liked to call him Dick to tease him. He really hated the nickname. Rick's a very big man in every sense of the word; he's tall, wide, and loud, but luckily, he's very friendly. And, as I was excited to learn, very accepting and open-minded. It wasn't all that long into our friendship when he had worked some intimate details about my life out of me. He wasn't too surprised at me being gay; he mostly just figured I was timid and shy around women rather than not interested in them. I worried being a foot fetishist would put him off, though. Rick seemed like the kind of guy that wouldn't understand something like that. And, to be honest, he didn't. But unlike most guys, he actually stuck around and tried to understand. It was that day I realized we'd be together for a good, long time.
And we have been. When we graduated, we ended up becoming roommates in our new home. My friends thought I had finally gotten into a relationship with the guy, but I felt compelled to reiterate that we weren't a couple at all. Rick was straight as an arrow and liked to go out, socialize, and party, and he got to meet a lot of women that way. I, personally, have always been content to sit at home reading peacefully and let life take its course. Of course, I felt attracted to Rick. He was kind thick but he was delightfully sweet, and I'm not too embarrassed to admit ever since we met, a lot of my fetish-related fantasies have involved him somehow. Like I said, Rick is a big guy, and that extends to his feet as well, to my excitement. The man wears about a size 14 or 15 shoe, and I can't help but find myself distracted every time I see him walking around the house barefoot. He's not oblivious to it, of course, he knows I'm into his feet. He's thankfully open to me messing around with them a little bit and actually seems somewhat honored that I'm so attracted to them. Every once in a while I'll get a chance to give them a few tickles or spend a night on the couch rubbing them lovingly. He certainly appreciates the attention and realizes he probably won't get that from anyone else, much less another guy.
But like I said, he's very straight, and we're not a couple. Anything beyond what I've described has been restricted to my own fantasies. And boy, do I have some crazy ones! But that's neither here nor there. Right now, I'm sitting on the couch, listening to the soft noises of the night outside. A small blanket is set across my legs and my bare feet are planted on the carpet. I'm a lot shorter than Rick, so it's amusing to see us sitting on the same couch. My magazine is in my hands, my eyes slowly blink behind my glasses, and I find myself idly turning the page even though I haven't finished reading it. I just needed something new to look at while I thought to myself, really.
Rick was out at a party at the moment, which is why I was sitting on the couch waiting for him. He should be home any minute now, I thought. He's probably having plenty of drinks while he's out, though, and I worried something relating to that was keeping him. I had only just started thinking on that when I heard a car pull up outside. I didn't even have to turn around; I knew he was home when I heard his voice. He was saying goodbye to his friends, a little too loudly at that. I found myself wishing he'd quiet down, I didn't want him to wake up the neighborhood. Luckily I heard a door slam and the engine kick up as the car drove off down the street. I closed my magazine and put it to the side as the door opened and Rick stumbled into the house.
I could tell he was drunk with a cursory glance; he was wobbling to and fro and having a lot of trouble locking the door behind him. He was also giggling to himself; Rick was kind of a giggly drunk, laughing at jokes no one made. Eventually he got the door shut and locked and turned to me on the couch, which caused him to grin widely for some reason.
"H-Heeey, grandma!" he drawled with a cackle. I looked down at myself; I guess the blanket over my legs with my hands folded on top made me look old, at least to a drunken Rick. He toppled his way into the living room before I could respond. His eyes were only half open, his clothes were rumpled, and his hair was a bit of a mess. Eventually he found his way to the couch and flopped himself down right next to me with a smirk. He leaned his head closer to mine and smiled again. "Hey thurr Alex baby, how's it going? You have a nice night here all alone? Didja miss me, didja?"
I gave him a little smirk of my own. Rick could be really annoying when he was drunk, but I took a bit of pleasure in knowing I had full control of my mind and speech and he didn't. "Of course I did, Rick," I said with a hint of sarcasm, knowing it'd fly right past him, "just like I do whenever we're separate."
He laughed, a little louder than he probably intended, and he'd probably have done so no matter what I said. "Yeaaaaaah, I betcha did." He drew out his words and gave a small hiccup. His voice was deep and rough, with a loud, honest laugh that delighted me. "I betcha missed my feet more than ya missed me, amirite, huh?"
"Oh, don't say that, Rick!" I was honest now; of course his feet weren't all I thought about! I realized he was drunk and probably just trying to get a rise from me, but I'd hate it if he thought I was only close to him because I liked his feet. "Of course I missed you."
"I bet, I bet," he repeated, still not giving me a hint of what he actually meant. He stretched his legs out, which drew my eye to his large sneakers, which he hadn't taken off before entering the house, which he usually does. "How about you give me a nice, long foot massage and we'll go ahead and call it even, eh?"
Rick liked using "a foot massage" as a form of payment for me because he knew above anything that I'd actually do it. But sometimes I liked to toy around with him. "Well, maybe I don't want to," I said, crossing my arms and turning away from him a bit, pretending to be hurt. I was pretty sure I wasn't fooling myself, though, much less Rick, because he started laughing again.
"Aw, c'MAAAWN, Alex! I was talkin' about you, at the party. I was. Tellin' all my friends about you."
I looked back to him, furrowing my brow a bit. "Huh?"
"Oh yeah, totes. I was talking to my pals an' shit, an' I was like, 'Yeah, he's a good guy! When I get home from a long day at work, I'm all, Alex! C'mere and rub my feet fer me!' And they were all, whooooa."
He was talking about me as if I was some sort of servant! And playing off my fetish for laughs with his drunken buddies! "Rick!"
"Wh?" he said, more of a noise than a word, glancing over at me. I think my indignant tone got through to him, because he stopped smiling. "Nah man, nah man, they thought it was cool! They were chill."
"Yeah, I bet they were."
"Aw, Alex..."
I crossed my arms and huffed. I didn't even care if I looked pouty. I felt like some sort of dog doing stupid tricks for its master. There was a thick, somewhat uncomfortable silence. It was Rick who ended up breaking it.
"M'sorry."
"Are you?"
"Yeah. I jus' wanted to tell the guys at the party 'bout my best friend an' the stuff he'd do for me."
I sighed. I could feel my eyes misting up a bit. Rick was thick, but he wasn't stupid. I knew he wouldn't do something like that to hurt me. In a way, I felt like I was in the wrong for being mad at him. "I'm sorry too, Rick. I shouldn't be so sensitive."
"But that's why I like ya, Alex!" He slapped me on the back a bit, a little harder than I'd have liked, given the topic of conversation. But I smiled anyway.
"Thanks, Rick. I like you a lot too." I turned in my seat, resting my ankle underneath my leg as I turned to him. "You still want that foot massage?"
"Do I ever!" He swung his long legs up onto the couch and placed his feet in my lap, surprisingly gently. His shoes were still on, so I got to work unlacing them for him. I figured this was why he hadn't taken them off; obviously he had this planned and knew I enjoyed removing his shoes for him. I glanced a look at his face as I slipped his shoes from his feet; still flushed and dazed, so I knew he was still pretty drunk. I didn't mind, though. I let my thumbs run down his soles while my fingers reached toward his ankle to pull his socks off. He had already assumed a reclining position, resting his hands behind his head with a relaxed smile on his face. In reality, I was the one doing the work while he got to rest, but I didn't mind it. I felt rewarded enough glancing up at him and seeing him with that pleased smile on his face. And, of course, getting to admire his big feet, which I had just managed to get bare, tossing the socks down on top of his shoes. They'd be moved later, but where they rested wasn't important for now. For now, all that was important was Rick's feet in my lap. I could already feel myself getting aroused.
I placed my thumbs along his soles as my hands wrapped around his feet, gripping the tops of his feet as leverage as I let my thumbs rub his arches in circles. I could tell from his sigh he was already happy with where this was going. Rick's gotten a lot of foot massages from me in the past, so he knows what to expect. I start running the palms of my hands against his soles, rubbing up and down, from his toes to his heels. I didn't really have any training in foot massages other than what my instincts told me, but it was enjoyable for us both all the same. I was just warming up, letting my hands and fingers caress his feet gently, before getting into the real stuff.
I took one foot into both hands. I loved doing this, because I loved how my small hands made his feet look enormous in them. Rick knew what I was up to, so he adjusted his feet so that I could focus entirely on the one in my hands. When he adjusted his free foot, though, I could feel it ever-so-gently run across my aroused manhood, which sent lightning bolts of pleasure up my spine. I gasped a bit in shock, but he didn't notice, and to be honest, I'm not really sure if he did that on purpose or if he just wasn't paying attention to what he did with his feet. But the motion did put some altogether pleasing and fantastic images into my head involving things I was sure Rick wouldn't really be up to doing. I tried to shove them out of my head, for now at least, while I focused on using my two thumbs to rub and massage his sole as his long toes wiggled in pleasure.
I swapped feet every once in a while, but I knew I was just going through the motions while my mind was a million miles away. As much as I enjoyed making Rick happy like this, the main reason I did this kind of thing was, admittedly, to basically ogle his feet. Like I said, Rick knew quite well I liked his feet, so he tends to walk around the house barefoot and take any chance he gets to show them off. I always found it both maddening and exciting, to be honest. But it was times like these, peaceful, quiet nights with us both on the couch and me massaging his feet, that I found most stimulating. But, of course, when you're someone like me, and you have someone's feet in your hands like this, your mind will inevitably turn toward certain varieties of mischief.
As I've said before, Rick is a big man with big feet and a big laugh. And, as I was excited to find out when we first met, Rick is highly ticklish, more ticklish than you'd expect a man of his size to be. Just thinking about it always drives me nuts, the way such a strong man can be brought down like that with something so simple and playful. As such, I took every chance I could to give him a good tickling, especially when I get a shot at his big feet. To this day, I'm not sure if Rick allows me to tickle him or if he actually enjoys being tickled, but I do know that when I start tickling him, it can go on for a while, and it usually does. I was surprised not a lot of girls he met took advantage of this, to be honest, but oh well.
I looked up at Rick's face again. His eyes were closed fully now, but I could tell he wasn't quite asleep. Rick has fallen asleep during a foot massage before, many times in fact, and I always found it absolutely adorable, usually leaving him on the couch when I was done. But I could tell he was still awake now, even if he was just barely clinging to it. Both of his feet were beside each other on my lap, with my hands still on them. So, to test the waters, I let one finger drag itself down his sole.
His toes twitched a bit, but he didn't react beyond that. I grinned and ran it back up his sole again. More twitching, and this time I swore I could hear a bit of a snort. I found my grin widening despite myself. It was always so much fun to start slow.
I began scratching my fingertip against the arch of his foot, very small scritches against his foot. Now I could hear some deep chuckles that I could mature into laughter. I took three fingers and ran them up and down his sole, now whispering just enough for him to hear me, "Gitchy gitchy goo..."
It always seemed to be the teasing that broke the floodgates for poor Rick. His chuckles now gave way to laughter, loud and honest, just the way I liked it. I let the fingers of my right hand flutter playfully across his soles, delighting in his reactions. I closed my eyes and drank it all in, as a music-lover would do for a classical symphony. But my symphony was a little more personal than that.
"Aaahahahahaaa! Ahahahaleex! Nahahahaha, do-hahahaa!"
I could hear him trying to get out words like my name and "don't", but I felt too cruel to let him get anything out. Anytime I felt he was getting close to forming an actual word, I'd give his soles a quick scratch with my fingernails or dig my fingertips in between his toes and smirk as whatever he was trying to say got lost in a stream of boyish giggles. I was a lot shorter than Rick was, and certainly more frail, so it wasn't too hard for him to best me in any test of strength. Luckily for me, so long as I could find a spot for my fingers to attack, it was never too hard to turn the tables on him. Rick's whole body was ticklish, and I don't think I could find any spot that was specifically more sensitive than any other, but I, obviously, held favor in his feet, and took any chance I could to tickle them silly.
I pulled his toes back with one hand and stroked the fingertips of the other underneath them. My efforts were rewarded with a noise that sounded like some sort of squawk, which gave way to peals of laughter. I let his toes free to wiggle my fingertips underneath and around them, not even giving the poor things a chance to curl as a reflex.
"Are you having fun, Rick?" I taunted, wondering if he'd even be able to answer me. "I hear a lot of laughter! Why, you're laughing like a little boy watching cartoons!" It was mean, yes, but took a lot of pleasure in making Rick feel like a child underneath my wiggling fingers.
"Kyahahahaa, cut it out, Aleheheheeex! Ptthhhahahaahaa! Y-You know how t-ticklish I am, ahahahaa!"
I felt a small spike of excitement when he said 'ticklish', of course. I talk a lot about how I like to use tickling against Rick both as play and to get my own way, but I'd be remiss to state he didn't have any ways to get back at me. While I knew he wasn't trying to right now, in the past, he has spent a long time describing, in detail, his ticklishness, taking pains to repeat the word as often as he could, just to watch me react. Because of that, I do things like tickle him senseless to get my own way, and in return, he does things like that to get revenge. It's a delightful little cycle we have going on that I wouldn't trade for the world...especially now that we were on my end again!
"Oh, I could just tickle you forever, Rick! You have such a sweet laugh, I'm glad you don't let it go to waste! Maybe the next time you bring a nice girl home, I'll pull her aside and tell her all the things I like to do to send you into a giggle-fit!"
"Don't you dohohoho it you bahahastaaahahahahahaa!"
"Naughty, naughty language, Rick! Sometimes I think you want me to punish you!"
The tickling was amazing, but it was banter like this that really got me going. And I always felt I needed to get in as much as I could in the beginning. Everyone knows the odd effects cute dogs and cats have on most people, where seeing them causes their minds to devolve into little more than baby-talk and cooing. Well, tickling Rick had that sort of effect on me. Really, I can only tease him for so long until my mind devolves into gitchy gitchies and tickle tickles and gushing mentally over his bare feet and I find it hard to say anything other than that. As comfortable and pleasurable as this was, I cursed the fact that I wasn't tickling him in a room with more things at hand; more than once I've caught him in the kitchen and gotten the chance to use a fork or two to get him to laugh! But, sadly, the area around me was devoid of pokie, strokie, or fluffy objects, meaning tonight would see me using only my own two hands. Not that I minded.
"Hey Rick! Let's see how many seconds it takes to draaaag my fingertip from the heel of your foot to the tips of your toes!"
"C-C'mon, cahahan we not do that, plehehease?"
"I can't hear you, my finger's on your heel! Let's see now, ooooone, twooooo, threeeee...oh, I can't resist! Tickle tickle tickle!" I giggled playfully and scribbled my fingers all around his sole, grinning widely as his laughter picked up. I could feel the effect his feet were having on my mind already. It was starting to fill up with nothing but thoughts of Rick's feet and the things I wanted to do to them. I always try to keep them in the back of my mind for later, but when his huge feet were sitting right here, almost staring me in the face, it was impossible to think about anything else. To be honest, I felt almost as if I was drunk too, drunk on Rick's feet and laughter. I was supporting his ankles with my hand, lifting them up lightly as my free hand tickled away at them, causing them to wiggle and squirm in my hands. My face found its way closer and closer to his feet, admiring and drinking in every ample inch of his surprisingly soft soles. My eyes closed and I took in a small sniff. Rick's feet never had much of a scent. Ever since we met, he's taken very good care of them, which I thank him every night for. I get excited thinking that he does that kind of thing just for me.
It was really only when I felt my lips caressing his soles lovingly did I realize what I was doing.
His laughing had slowed down, because my tickling had stopped and been replaced with loving. His giggles had tamed and I could hear him saying "Whoahoahoa," in between them, surprised at my actions, but not exactly condemning them. I pulled my face away and gave his soles a quick tickle to distract him while I processed what exactly I was about to do.
My God! Was I about to start kissing and licking his feet? The man was DRUNK! I can't do that kind of thing when he's drunk and barely even realizes what I'm doing!
And yet...I wondered if this would be my only chance...my only chance to live out just one of my tamer fantasies...licking and loving his feet to his very delight...I wondered if one lick would hurt. I'd stop right after that, maybe even put his feet down and call it a night. I'm sure he wouldn't mind one lick, just a slip of the tongue, so to speak. Even if he was sober he wouldn't condemn me for it!
Well...I couldn't say that. Really, I couldn't speak for him. The things I'd do to his feet would remain fantasy. I set his feet down onto the floor as he had finished recovering.
"Aww, all finished, are we?"
"Y-Yeah," I said, with a slight choke. "Yeah. All finished." I stood up, putting my blanket to the side and wiggling my toes against the carpet awkwardly. "I'm gonna go turn in, Rick. Are you gonna sleep out here?" He stretched his legs out and kicked his feet up on the other armrest. It was a big couch, but Rick filled it up completely.
"Yeah, I'm just gonna kick it here 'till morn'. Night, Alex."
"Night Rick. Sleep well." I walked out of the room and clicked the light off, standing in the door frame for a moment before heading up to my room.
I needed some time to myself.
~~~
The morning light streamed in through the kitchen window as I sat, reading the paper and sipping my tea. I realized I probably looked years older than I was again and Rick would taunt me for it, but I didn't care. This was how I spent my early mornings.
I heard movement from the living room, and a groan confirmed that Rick was only half awake and paying for his party last night. I heard him walk past the window. He must have looked at it wrong, because I heard him swear loudly about the sunlight. I chuckled to myself as I turned to the door to see the guy stumble his way to the table.
"I have your coffee ready."
"Yer one in a million Alex."
He plopped himself down across from me and took a few deep swigs from his coffee mug. I entertained a moment of silence as he slowly started to grow more coherent and awake.
"My head hurts," he groaned.
"That happens when you're out all night drinking."
"What happened last night?"
"You came home, we traded some words, and I had some fun with your feet."
"Massage?"
"And a few tickles."
"Not a few. I know you."
"Okay, lots of tickles."
"S'better."
Another silence. I could hear the wheels in his brain cranking. I think he was beginning to add something up.
"Did you do anything?"
"Like what?"
"You know."
"To your feet?"
"Yeah."
I sighed a bit, remembering my little dilemma. "No, Rick," I said, somewhat sadly, "I didn't do anything."
"Okay. I believe you."
"I'm glad."
Another silence.
"I appreciate that."
"You do?"
"You know I wouldn't have said anything. I was drunk."
"It would've been wrong."
"Not as wrong as some of the other stuff you could've done."
"Do you think--?!"
"No. I know you wouldn't even think of that kind of stuff. You're really tame, Alex."
"It sounds like an insult from you."
"Don't take it as one, okay? I told you, I'm thankful." He smiled. I smiled. It was nice. "Did you want to?"
"God yes."
"How bad?"
"I can't even say."
"But you didn't."
"I respect you more than that."
"And I'm going to repay you."
"I know y...what?"
I blinked, but his smile never faded. "I'm going to repay you."
"H-How do you mean?"
His eyebrow cocked. "Well, isn't tonight going to be exciting for you?"
"Rick! Tell me!"
"I'm not going to ruin the surprise!"
"I swear, I'll tickle you!"
"Torture me all you want, fiend!" He started to laugh. "You won't get a word from me!" Then he got up and almost skipped out of the room, giggling to himself. I stared into my tea, not drinking a sip.
Tonight's going to be exciting for you.
The day couldn't pass fast enough.
It's hard enough to be gay, as many people in the world know. And it's hard enough to be a foot fetishist. But, of course, I had to draw a bum hand in life by being a gay foot fetishist. Every once in a while, I liked to ponder what in my life led me down this path. It's not something I'd change, but it'd be good to know where exactly I came from, in a way. But I generally don't let it bother me. Especially not since college, when I met him.
Early on in college, I met a guy. His name was Richard. His friends called him Rick, myself included, but when I felt annoyed at him, I liked to call him Dick to tease him. He really hated the nickname. Rick's a very big man in every sense of the word; he's tall, wide, and loud, but luckily, he's very friendly. And, as I was excited to learn, very accepting and open-minded. It wasn't all that long into our friendship when he had worked some intimate details about my life out of me. He wasn't too surprised at me being gay; he mostly just figured I was timid and shy around women rather than not interested in them. I worried being a foot fetishist would put him off, though. Rick seemed like the kind of guy that wouldn't understand something like that. And, to be honest, he didn't. But unlike most guys, he actually stuck around and tried to understand. It was that day I realized we'd be together for a good, long time.
And we have been. When we graduated, we ended up becoming roommates in our new home. My friends thought I had finally gotten into a relationship with the guy, but I felt compelled to reiterate that we weren't a couple at all. Rick was straight as an arrow and liked to go out, socialize, and party, and he got to meet a lot of women that way. I, personally, have always been content to sit at home reading peacefully and let life take its course. Of course, I felt attracted to Rick. He was kind thick but he was delightfully sweet, and I'm not too embarrassed to admit ever since we met, a lot of my fetish-related fantasies have involved him somehow. Like I said, Rick is a big guy, and that extends to his feet as well, to my excitement. The man wears about a size 14 or 15 shoe, and I can't help but find myself distracted every time I see him walking around the house barefoot. He's not oblivious to it, of course, he knows I'm into his feet. He's thankfully open to me messing around with them a little bit and actually seems somewhat honored that I'm so attracted to them. Every once in a while I'll get a chance to give them a few tickles or spend a night on the couch rubbing them lovingly. He certainly appreciates the attention and realizes he probably won't get that from anyone else, much less another guy.
But like I said, he's very straight, and we're not a couple. Anything beyond what I've described has been restricted to my own fantasies. And boy, do I have some crazy ones! But that's neither here nor there. Right now, I'm sitting on the couch, listening to the soft noises of the night outside. A small blanket is set across my legs and my bare feet are planted on the carpet. I'm a lot shorter than Rick, so it's amusing to see us sitting on the same couch. My magazine is in my hands, my eyes slowly blink behind my glasses, and I find myself idly turning the page even though I haven't finished reading it. I just needed something new to look at while I thought to myself, really.
Rick was out at a party at the moment, which is why I was sitting on the couch waiting for him. He should be home any minute now, I thought. He's probably having plenty of drinks while he's out, though, and I worried something relating to that was keeping him. I had only just started thinking on that when I heard a car pull up outside. I didn't even have to turn around; I knew he was home when I heard his voice. He was saying goodbye to his friends, a little too loudly at that. I found myself wishing he'd quiet down, I didn't want him to wake up the neighborhood. Luckily I heard a door slam and the engine kick up as the car drove off down the street. I closed my magazine and put it to the side as the door opened and Rick stumbled into the house.
I could tell he was drunk with a cursory glance; he was wobbling to and fro and having a lot of trouble locking the door behind him. He was also giggling to himself; Rick was kind of a giggly drunk, laughing at jokes no one made. Eventually he got the door shut and locked and turned to me on the couch, which caused him to grin widely for some reason.
"H-Heeey, grandma!" he drawled with a cackle. I looked down at myself; I guess the blanket over my legs with my hands folded on top made me look old, at least to a drunken Rick. He toppled his way into the living room before I could respond. His eyes were only half open, his clothes were rumpled, and his hair was a bit of a mess. Eventually he found his way to the couch and flopped himself down right next to me with a smirk. He leaned his head closer to mine and smiled again. "Hey thurr Alex baby, how's it going? You have a nice night here all alone? Didja miss me, didja?"
I gave him a little smirk of my own. Rick could be really annoying when he was drunk, but I took a bit of pleasure in knowing I had full control of my mind and speech and he didn't. "Of course I did, Rick," I said with a hint of sarcasm, knowing it'd fly right past him, "just like I do whenever we're separate."
He laughed, a little louder than he probably intended, and he'd probably have done so no matter what I said. "Yeaaaaaah, I betcha did." He drew out his words and gave a small hiccup. His voice was deep and rough, with a loud, honest laugh that delighted me. "I betcha missed my feet more than ya missed me, amirite, huh?"
"Oh, don't say that, Rick!" I was honest now; of course his feet weren't all I thought about! I realized he was drunk and probably just trying to get a rise from me, but I'd hate it if he thought I was only close to him because I liked his feet. "Of course I missed you."
"I bet, I bet," he repeated, still not giving me a hint of what he actually meant. He stretched his legs out, which drew my eye to his large sneakers, which he hadn't taken off before entering the house, which he usually does. "How about you give me a nice, long foot massage and we'll go ahead and call it even, eh?"
Rick liked using "a foot massage" as a form of payment for me because he knew above anything that I'd actually do it. But sometimes I liked to toy around with him. "Well, maybe I don't want to," I said, crossing my arms and turning away from him a bit, pretending to be hurt. I was pretty sure I wasn't fooling myself, though, much less Rick, because he started laughing again.
"Aw, c'MAAAWN, Alex! I was talkin' about you, at the party. I was. Tellin' all my friends about you."
I looked back to him, furrowing my brow a bit. "Huh?"
"Oh yeah, totes. I was talking to my pals an' shit, an' I was like, 'Yeah, he's a good guy! When I get home from a long day at work, I'm all, Alex! C'mere and rub my feet fer me!' And they were all, whooooa."
He was talking about me as if I was some sort of servant! And playing off my fetish for laughs with his drunken buddies! "Rick!"
"Wh?" he said, more of a noise than a word, glancing over at me. I think my indignant tone got through to him, because he stopped smiling. "Nah man, nah man, they thought it was cool! They were chill."
"Yeah, I bet they were."
"Aw, Alex..."
I crossed my arms and huffed. I didn't even care if I looked pouty. I felt like some sort of dog doing stupid tricks for its master. There was a thick, somewhat uncomfortable silence. It was Rick who ended up breaking it.
"M'sorry."
"Are you?"
"Yeah. I jus' wanted to tell the guys at the party 'bout my best friend an' the stuff he'd do for me."
I sighed. I could feel my eyes misting up a bit. Rick was thick, but he wasn't stupid. I knew he wouldn't do something like that to hurt me. In a way, I felt like I was in the wrong for being mad at him. "I'm sorry too, Rick. I shouldn't be so sensitive."
"But that's why I like ya, Alex!" He slapped me on the back a bit, a little harder than I'd have liked, given the topic of conversation. But I smiled anyway.
"Thanks, Rick. I like you a lot too." I turned in my seat, resting my ankle underneath my leg as I turned to him. "You still want that foot massage?"
"Do I ever!" He swung his long legs up onto the couch and placed his feet in my lap, surprisingly gently. His shoes were still on, so I got to work unlacing them for him. I figured this was why he hadn't taken them off; obviously he had this planned and knew I enjoyed removing his shoes for him. I glanced a look at his face as I slipped his shoes from his feet; still flushed and dazed, so I knew he was still pretty drunk. I didn't mind, though. I let my thumbs run down his soles while my fingers reached toward his ankle to pull his socks off. He had already assumed a reclining position, resting his hands behind his head with a relaxed smile on his face. In reality, I was the one doing the work while he got to rest, but I didn't mind it. I felt rewarded enough glancing up at him and seeing him with that pleased smile on his face. And, of course, getting to admire his big feet, which I had just managed to get bare, tossing the socks down on top of his shoes. They'd be moved later, but where they rested wasn't important for now. For now, all that was important was Rick's feet in my lap. I could already feel myself getting aroused.
I placed my thumbs along his soles as my hands wrapped around his feet, gripping the tops of his feet as leverage as I let my thumbs rub his arches in circles. I could tell from his sigh he was already happy with where this was going. Rick's gotten a lot of foot massages from me in the past, so he knows what to expect. I start running the palms of my hands against his soles, rubbing up and down, from his toes to his heels. I didn't really have any training in foot massages other than what my instincts told me, but it was enjoyable for us both all the same. I was just warming up, letting my hands and fingers caress his feet gently, before getting into the real stuff.
I took one foot into both hands. I loved doing this, because I loved how my small hands made his feet look enormous in them. Rick knew what I was up to, so he adjusted his feet so that I could focus entirely on the one in my hands. When he adjusted his free foot, though, I could feel it ever-so-gently run across my aroused manhood, which sent lightning bolts of pleasure up my spine. I gasped a bit in shock, but he didn't notice, and to be honest, I'm not really sure if he did that on purpose or if he just wasn't paying attention to what he did with his feet. But the motion did put some altogether pleasing and fantastic images into my head involving things I was sure Rick wouldn't really be up to doing. I tried to shove them out of my head, for now at least, while I focused on using my two thumbs to rub and massage his sole as his long toes wiggled in pleasure.
I swapped feet every once in a while, but I knew I was just going through the motions while my mind was a million miles away. As much as I enjoyed making Rick happy like this, the main reason I did this kind of thing was, admittedly, to basically ogle his feet. Like I said, Rick knew quite well I liked his feet, so he tends to walk around the house barefoot and take any chance he gets to show them off. I always found it both maddening and exciting, to be honest. But it was times like these, peaceful, quiet nights with us both on the couch and me massaging his feet, that I found most stimulating. But, of course, when you're someone like me, and you have someone's feet in your hands like this, your mind will inevitably turn toward certain varieties of mischief.
As I've said before, Rick is a big man with big feet and a big laugh. And, as I was excited to find out when we first met, Rick is highly ticklish, more ticklish than you'd expect a man of his size to be. Just thinking about it always drives me nuts, the way such a strong man can be brought down like that with something so simple and playful. As such, I took every chance I could to give him a good tickling, especially when I get a shot at his big feet. To this day, I'm not sure if Rick allows me to tickle him or if he actually enjoys being tickled, but I do know that when I start tickling him, it can go on for a while, and it usually does. I was surprised not a lot of girls he met took advantage of this, to be honest, but oh well.
I looked up at Rick's face again. His eyes were closed fully now, but I could tell he wasn't quite asleep. Rick has fallen asleep during a foot massage before, many times in fact, and I always found it absolutely adorable, usually leaving him on the couch when I was done. But I could tell he was still awake now, even if he was just barely clinging to it. Both of his feet were beside each other on my lap, with my hands still on them. So, to test the waters, I let one finger drag itself down his sole.
His toes twitched a bit, but he didn't react beyond that. I grinned and ran it back up his sole again. More twitching, and this time I swore I could hear a bit of a snort. I found my grin widening despite myself. It was always so much fun to start slow.
I began scratching my fingertip against the arch of his foot, very small scritches against his foot. Now I could hear some deep chuckles that I could mature into laughter. I took three fingers and ran them up and down his sole, now whispering just enough for him to hear me, "Gitchy gitchy goo..."
It always seemed to be the teasing that broke the floodgates for poor Rick. His chuckles now gave way to laughter, loud and honest, just the way I liked it. I let the fingers of my right hand flutter playfully across his soles, delighting in his reactions. I closed my eyes and drank it all in, as a music-lover would do for a classical symphony. But my symphony was a little more personal than that.
"Aaahahahahaaa! Ahahahaleex! Nahahahaha, do-hahahaa!"
I could hear him trying to get out words like my name and "don't", but I felt too cruel to let him get anything out. Anytime I felt he was getting close to forming an actual word, I'd give his soles a quick scratch with my fingernails or dig my fingertips in between his toes and smirk as whatever he was trying to say got lost in a stream of boyish giggles. I was a lot shorter than Rick was, and certainly more frail, so it wasn't too hard for him to best me in any test of strength. Luckily for me, so long as I could find a spot for my fingers to attack, it was never too hard to turn the tables on him. Rick's whole body was ticklish, and I don't think I could find any spot that was specifically more sensitive than any other, but I, obviously, held favor in his feet, and took any chance I could to tickle them silly.
I pulled his toes back with one hand and stroked the fingertips of the other underneath them. My efforts were rewarded with a noise that sounded like some sort of squawk, which gave way to peals of laughter. I let his toes free to wiggle my fingertips underneath and around them, not even giving the poor things a chance to curl as a reflex.
"Are you having fun, Rick?" I taunted, wondering if he'd even be able to answer me. "I hear a lot of laughter! Why, you're laughing like a little boy watching cartoons!" It was mean, yes, but took a lot of pleasure in making Rick feel like a child underneath my wiggling fingers.
"Kyahahahaa, cut it out, Aleheheheeex! Ptthhhahahaahaa! Y-You know how t-ticklish I am, ahahahaa!"
I felt a small spike of excitement when he said 'ticklish', of course. I talk a lot about how I like to use tickling against Rick both as play and to get my own way, but I'd be remiss to state he didn't have any ways to get back at me. While I knew he wasn't trying to right now, in the past, he has spent a long time describing, in detail, his ticklishness, taking pains to repeat the word as often as he could, just to watch me react. Because of that, I do things like tickle him senseless to get my own way, and in return, he does things like that to get revenge. It's a delightful little cycle we have going on that I wouldn't trade for the world...especially now that we were on my end again!
"Oh, I could just tickle you forever, Rick! You have such a sweet laugh, I'm glad you don't let it go to waste! Maybe the next time you bring a nice girl home, I'll pull her aside and tell her all the things I like to do to send you into a giggle-fit!"
"Don't you dohohoho it you bahahastaaahahahahahaa!"
"Naughty, naughty language, Rick! Sometimes I think you want me to punish you!"
The tickling was amazing, but it was banter like this that really got me going. And I always felt I needed to get in as much as I could in the beginning. Everyone knows the odd effects cute dogs and cats have on most people, where seeing them causes their minds to devolve into little more than baby-talk and cooing. Well, tickling Rick had that sort of effect on me. Really, I can only tease him for so long until my mind devolves into gitchy gitchies and tickle tickles and gushing mentally over his bare feet and I find it hard to say anything other than that. As comfortable and pleasurable as this was, I cursed the fact that I wasn't tickling him in a room with more things at hand; more than once I've caught him in the kitchen and gotten the chance to use a fork or two to get him to laugh! But, sadly, the area around me was devoid of pokie, strokie, or fluffy objects, meaning tonight would see me using only my own two hands. Not that I minded.
"Hey Rick! Let's see how many seconds it takes to draaaag my fingertip from the heel of your foot to the tips of your toes!"
"C-C'mon, cahahan we not do that, plehehease?"
"I can't hear you, my finger's on your heel! Let's see now, ooooone, twooooo, threeeee...oh, I can't resist! Tickle tickle tickle!" I giggled playfully and scribbled my fingers all around his sole, grinning widely as his laughter picked up. I could feel the effect his feet were having on my mind already. It was starting to fill up with nothing but thoughts of Rick's feet and the things I wanted to do to them. I always try to keep them in the back of my mind for later, but when his huge feet were sitting right here, almost staring me in the face, it was impossible to think about anything else. To be honest, I felt almost as if I was drunk too, drunk on Rick's feet and laughter. I was supporting his ankles with my hand, lifting them up lightly as my free hand tickled away at them, causing them to wiggle and squirm in my hands. My face found its way closer and closer to his feet, admiring and drinking in every ample inch of his surprisingly soft soles. My eyes closed and I took in a small sniff. Rick's feet never had much of a scent. Ever since we met, he's taken very good care of them, which I thank him every night for. I get excited thinking that he does that kind of thing just for me.
It was really only when I felt my lips caressing his soles lovingly did I realize what I was doing.
His laughing had slowed down, because my tickling had stopped and been replaced with loving. His giggles had tamed and I could hear him saying "Whoahoahoa," in between them, surprised at my actions, but not exactly condemning them. I pulled my face away and gave his soles a quick tickle to distract him while I processed what exactly I was about to do.
My God! Was I about to start kissing and licking his feet? The man was DRUNK! I can't do that kind of thing when he's drunk and barely even realizes what I'm doing!
And yet...I wondered if this would be my only chance...my only chance to live out just one of my tamer fantasies...licking and loving his feet to his very delight...I wondered if one lick would hurt. I'd stop right after that, maybe even put his feet down and call it a night. I'm sure he wouldn't mind one lick, just a slip of the tongue, so to speak. Even if he was sober he wouldn't condemn me for it!
Well...I couldn't say that. Really, I couldn't speak for him. The things I'd do to his feet would remain fantasy. I set his feet down onto the floor as he had finished recovering.
"Aww, all finished, are we?"
"Y-Yeah," I said, with a slight choke. "Yeah. All finished." I stood up, putting my blanket to the side and wiggling my toes against the carpet awkwardly. "I'm gonna go turn in, Rick. Are you gonna sleep out here?" He stretched his legs out and kicked his feet up on the other armrest. It was a big couch, but Rick filled it up completely.
"Yeah, I'm just gonna kick it here 'till morn'. Night, Alex."
"Night Rick. Sleep well." I walked out of the room and clicked the light off, standing in the door frame for a moment before heading up to my room.
I needed some time to myself.
~~~
The morning light streamed in through the kitchen window as I sat, reading the paper and sipping my tea. I realized I probably looked years older than I was again and Rick would taunt me for it, but I didn't care. This was how I spent my early mornings.
I heard movement from the living room, and a groan confirmed that Rick was only half awake and paying for his party last night. I heard him walk past the window. He must have looked at it wrong, because I heard him swear loudly about the sunlight. I chuckled to myself as I turned to the door to see the guy stumble his way to the table.
"I have your coffee ready."
"Yer one in a million Alex."
He plopped himself down across from me and took a few deep swigs from his coffee mug. I entertained a moment of silence as he slowly started to grow more coherent and awake.
"My head hurts," he groaned.
"That happens when you're out all night drinking."
"What happened last night?"
"You came home, we traded some words, and I had some fun with your feet."
"Massage?"
"And a few tickles."
"Not a few. I know you."
"Okay, lots of tickles."
"S'better."
Another silence. I could hear the wheels in his brain cranking. I think he was beginning to add something up.
"Did you do anything?"
"Like what?"
"You know."
"To your feet?"
"Yeah."
I sighed a bit, remembering my little dilemma. "No, Rick," I said, somewhat sadly, "I didn't do anything."
"Okay. I believe you."
"I'm glad."
Another silence.
"I appreciate that."
"You do?"
"You know I wouldn't have said anything. I was drunk."
"It would've been wrong."
"Not as wrong as some of the other stuff you could've done."
"Do you think--?!"
"No. I know you wouldn't even think of that kind of stuff. You're really tame, Alex."
"It sounds like an insult from you."
"Don't take it as one, okay? I told you, I'm thankful." He smiled. I smiled. It was nice. "Did you want to?"
"God yes."
"How bad?"
"I can't even say."
"But you didn't."
"I respect you more than that."
"And I'm going to repay you."
"I know y...what?"
I blinked, but his smile never faded. "I'm going to repay you."
"H-How do you mean?"
His eyebrow cocked. "Well, isn't tonight going to be exciting for you?"
"Rick! Tell me!"
"I'm not going to ruin the surprise!"
"I swear, I'll tickle you!"
"Torture me all you want, fiend!" He started to laugh. "You won't get a word from me!" Then he got up and almost skipped out of the room, giggling to himself. I stared into my tea, not drinking a sip.
Tonight's going to be exciting for you.
The day couldn't pass fast enough.
