PerthBoy22
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David Morris was in his mid forties. He was a married man, loved his wife and they had a son, Brett who turned 21 just recently. Brett came back home (he moved away to college) for the occasion. David Morris hadn't seen his son in almost three years. Mr. Morris was a hard worker and he had to travel a lot for his job. So when Brett went off to college, it was due to bad luck and bad timing that they couldn't see each other.
There a pinch of sadness in David Morris' heart because he felt that his son didn't really care if he didn't see his father that much. The distance has created a wedge between them. A wedge that despite David Morris' best efforts seem to keep getting deeper and deeper. He was playing the very nice Dad card. The Dad who says yes to everything, who gives money out like he was a broken ATM, all the tricks to suck up to his son but in vain, it seemed.
But one day, something changed all that. A thought that crossed David Morris' mind turned things around in a very unusual way.
It was during the return of Brett at home for his 21st birthday. He stayed over for almost a week. And on one of those days, Mrs. Morris was out running errands and catching up with her friends (also thought she'd help her husband and her son have some bonding time together). Brett stayed at home and almost reverted back to his teenager self as he went on the couch and played games on the console.
David Morris wanted to play basketball in the backyard with his son (as they used to do back in the day) but he knew his son wouldn't agree to it. He stood there in the TV room looking at his son. Somehow, Brett reminded Mr. Morris of his young self. They looked quite similar. Curly brown hair, blue eyes, white skin in need of some sunlight but Brett had a slightly athletic build. He used to play sports in high school, he reduced his physical activities quite drastically when he went to college. He was definitely better looking than Mr Morris when he was his age.
Then it occured to Mr Morris. He shouldn't keep that nice Dad card on the table anymore. It clearly didn't work. He needed to be more firm and demand a bit more respect from his son. That's when he remembered what his own father used to inflict on him back when he was still a teenager. And then a smile cracked on David Morris' face. He approached the couch and spoke to his son.
"I know this is a holiday and all," said David Morris. "But that doesn't mean you stop behaving yourself like a proper well raised person." He paused as he saw his son looking back at him, surprised by what he was saying. "Your room is a complete mess and you've thrown so many dirty clothes on the laundry floor that I wonder if you ever wash them when you're at college. This is not a hotel. This is your home. Now, be good and go put your clothes in the wash and tidy up your room. You can play later."
There was a reason why David Morris just had an outburst in front of his son. He knew what was going to be Brett's reaction. He was counting on it.
"Make me," Brett replied turning his attention back to his game, not thinking twice about his father's little rant.
Mr Morris smiled to himself as he looked at his son. Brett was almost lying on his back on the couch. Perfect position really. All Mr Morris said before doing what he did was "That won't be a problem."
Mr Morris grabbed Brett's right foot by the ankle and locked it under his arm. Mr Morris now had his back turned to his son who had a shocked look on his face.
"What the hell are you doing?!" Brett demanded.
"You've pissed me off, son," answered David Morris. "And you know who knows everything about you? Your parents. That includes your weaknesses." He then pulled off Brett's sock.
Mr Morris took a second to look at his son's bare foot. First of all he was glad that his son had hygiene and kept his toenails trimmed. Second, he realized he hadn't seen his son barefoot in a long time. Ever since his cousins discovered how ticklish he was, Brett had been covering up his feet as often and as much as possible. Brett was about 5'7" so his feet were about size 9 or so.
"Don't be stupid, Dad... Stop playing around!" Brett tried to pull away but his father was a strong man with a strong hold. Unlike the son, the father kept at his physical activities so he was really fit for a mid-forties man.
"I've given you many chances, son," Mr Morris said. "But you spat on all of them." He skimmed his fingernails across Brett's exposed and vulnerable sole.
Brett's reaction was insantaneous as he squirmed uncontrallably on the couch, trying to pulls his foot away again. But again, he failed. He then saw his father look at him with eyes that pretty much said "you are so screwed right now". And Brett tried even harder to pull his foot away.
"You can keep trying," Mr Morris said as he kept caressing the bottom of the foot with his fingers. "But you're going to feel your father's wrath."
And with that, the punishment began. Mr Morris dug his nails into Brett's skin and started scratching the bottom of the foot like crazy. Top to bottom. Top to bottom. Top to bottom. Brett's laughter exploded as he tried kicking away but failed miserably. David Morris was enjoying hearing his son's laughter. It sounded like he was fourteen or twelve again. So Mr Morris kept at it, scratching that foot like crazy. Then he paused to give his son a breather.
"P... p... please... stop... I can't... I can't take this..." Brett was breathing heavily and he was already beginning to sweat. Mr Morris smirked. "Dad... please..."
"We could've had some different father-son time, Brett," Mr Morris said. "But you chose this. So this will have to do." Again Mr Morris began caressing the bottom of the foot slowly.
Brett panicked again. "No... please... stop! We'll do something else! Please!"
Mr Morris chuckled. "Why? I actually am enjoying myself quite a lot. Now," he said. "Let's see how ticklish these piggies are..." He began scratching the bottom of the big toe.
Brett clenched his toes immediately, to prevent further torture. But that only made Mr Morris happier. He unclenched the toes with one hand and with the other, he started tickling the soft skin underneath the toes. A soft spot. Brett laughed even harder and louder. He was losing it. Mr Morris felt a great pleasure scratching that soft skin. Making his son beg for mercy was actually quite a nice feeling after Brett's being such a prick.
"Not so arrogant now, are you?" Mr Morris said. "Look at you. You look like you're about to cry, son."
"P... please, Dad... stop! I will do what... you say. Please!" Brett begged even more.
"I like the sound of that," Mr Morris said. "But I do still want to have some more fun with my boy."
And just like that, Mr Morris started tickling Brett's foot like crazy again. Scratching it hard. Really going at it. He was almost unleashing all the frustration he's been feeling since his son came back home on that foot. And God, he loved that! So he scratched with even more tenacity. His son's pleas for mercy were candy to his ears. He kept at it for a few more minutes before pausing again. Brett had tears of laughter on his cheeks and he was breathing really hard and fast.
"Looks like your foot is sweaty as now, boy," Mr Morris noticed as he rubbed his son's foot with his fingers.
"T... then... stop... you don't want... my stench near your face... now... do you?" Brett could barely speak.
Now let it be known that Mr Morris never intended for the punishment to take this long. He was just going to tickle his son for two minutes to teach him a lesson. But, something changed when he began the tickling and hearing his son's pleas. Mr Morris was enjoying it very much. Too much even. He did think he was perhaps going too far... but since he had gone this far... might as well go for it.
Mr Morris unlocked the foot from under his arm but still keeping a firm grip on the ankle and turned around to face his son and he had his son's sole facing him. He pulled the foot closer to his face so the toes would be inches away from his nose and took a big whiff.
"Boy, I've smelled deadlier cheese," he said, shaking his head. "How disappointing." He sniffed his son's toes some more. "Nope, definitely not a stench, son."
Brett was stunned. "D... Dad... that's disgusting..."
Mr Morris smirked. "You know, just for that, I think I'll tickle you some more." He began tickling his son's foot a bit more. "You know what? Apparently your foot is more sensitive when it's a bit wet. Should we try testing that theory?"
Brett simply looked back at his Dad, wondering what he was on about. Then he saw his Dad stick his tongue out and lick his foot from heel to the toes. Brett lost his breath. He didn't even have the time to say anything as his father began tickling him again mercilessly. Scratching those nails on his sole, under his toes... everywhere. But when his Dad started using his teeth as well to tickle his foot, that's when Brett felt dizzy. He was laughing so much and so hard. It felt like it was never going to stop.
But it did stop. Mr Morris felt he had taken far. Too far even. He wasn't even sure what happened. He felt so much pleasure from tickling his son senseless that he wondered if he was alright in his head. As he let go of Brett's foot, he sighed but kept a smile on his face.
"I can't believe... you licked... smelled... and bit... my foot..." Brett said, his voice a little hazy.
"That's what happens when you piss your old man off," Mr Morris replied, keeping his cool.
Then he saw it... his son smiled at him. It was like a giggle and a smile. Mr Morris didn't know what to make of that.
"You think you're tough eh?" Brett asked, smiling still. He then moved his untouched foot and placed it on his father's chest. "This one has been sweating in its sock this whole time... think you can handle it?"
Mr Morris smiled back, somehow a mutual understanding taking place. He never expected that to happen. But he was not going to ruin the moment by questioning it or asking Brett if he was sure. This was something special.
"I'm afraid so, son," Mr Morris said as he wrapped his hand around Brett's left foot and sniffed the toes through the sock. "Not bad..." Then he pulled off the sock gently, caressing and somewhat tickling the bottom of the foot as well. Finally the foot is revealed, and indeed, it was moist with sweat. Sweat that Mr Morris was more than happy to have some whiffs of. "You lose again, I'm afraid, boy," Mr Morris said.
"I guess I'm at your mercy then..." Brett said, pushing his foot closer to his father's face.
Mr Morris smirked and tickled the foot gently as he teased his son's toes with his tongue. He noticed his son's facial expression. "You like that do you? Being at my mercy?"
"Y... yeah..." Brett said almost whispering.
Mr Morris smiled. "That's good," he said. "I like having you at my mercy." And he dug his nails into his son's flesh again!
There a pinch of sadness in David Morris' heart because he felt that his son didn't really care if he didn't see his father that much. The distance has created a wedge between them. A wedge that despite David Morris' best efforts seem to keep getting deeper and deeper. He was playing the very nice Dad card. The Dad who says yes to everything, who gives money out like he was a broken ATM, all the tricks to suck up to his son but in vain, it seemed.
But one day, something changed all that. A thought that crossed David Morris' mind turned things around in a very unusual way.
It was during the return of Brett at home for his 21st birthday. He stayed over for almost a week. And on one of those days, Mrs. Morris was out running errands and catching up with her friends (also thought she'd help her husband and her son have some bonding time together). Brett stayed at home and almost reverted back to his teenager self as he went on the couch and played games on the console.
David Morris wanted to play basketball in the backyard with his son (as they used to do back in the day) but he knew his son wouldn't agree to it. He stood there in the TV room looking at his son. Somehow, Brett reminded Mr. Morris of his young self. They looked quite similar. Curly brown hair, blue eyes, white skin in need of some sunlight but Brett had a slightly athletic build. He used to play sports in high school, he reduced his physical activities quite drastically when he went to college. He was definitely better looking than Mr Morris when he was his age.
Then it occured to Mr Morris. He shouldn't keep that nice Dad card on the table anymore. It clearly didn't work. He needed to be more firm and demand a bit more respect from his son. That's when he remembered what his own father used to inflict on him back when he was still a teenager. And then a smile cracked on David Morris' face. He approached the couch and spoke to his son.
"I know this is a holiday and all," said David Morris. "But that doesn't mean you stop behaving yourself like a proper well raised person." He paused as he saw his son looking back at him, surprised by what he was saying. "Your room is a complete mess and you've thrown so many dirty clothes on the laundry floor that I wonder if you ever wash them when you're at college. This is not a hotel. This is your home. Now, be good and go put your clothes in the wash and tidy up your room. You can play later."
There was a reason why David Morris just had an outburst in front of his son. He knew what was going to be Brett's reaction. He was counting on it.
"Make me," Brett replied turning his attention back to his game, not thinking twice about his father's little rant.
Mr Morris smiled to himself as he looked at his son. Brett was almost lying on his back on the couch. Perfect position really. All Mr Morris said before doing what he did was "That won't be a problem."
Mr Morris grabbed Brett's right foot by the ankle and locked it under his arm. Mr Morris now had his back turned to his son who had a shocked look on his face.
"What the hell are you doing?!" Brett demanded.
"You've pissed me off, son," answered David Morris. "And you know who knows everything about you? Your parents. That includes your weaknesses." He then pulled off Brett's sock.
Mr Morris took a second to look at his son's bare foot. First of all he was glad that his son had hygiene and kept his toenails trimmed. Second, he realized he hadn't seen his son barefoot in a long time. Ever since his cousins discovered how ticklish he was, Brett had been covering up his feet as often and as much as possible. Brett was about 5'7" so his feet were about size 9 or so.
"Don't be stupid, Dad... Stop playing around!" Brett tried to pull away but his father was a strong man with a strong hold. Unlike the son, the father kept at his physical activities so he was really fit for a mid-forties man.
"I've given you many chances, son," Mr Morris said. "But you spat on all of them." He skimmed his fingernails across Brett's exposed and vulnerable sole.
Brett's reaction was insantaneous as he squirmed uncontrallably on the couch, trying to pulls his foot away again. But again, he failed. He then saw his father look at him with eyes that pretty much said "you are so screwed right now". And Brett tried even harder to pull his foot away.
"You can keep trying," Mr Morris said as he kept caressing the bottom of the foot with his fingers. "But you're going to feel your father's wrath."
And with that, the punishment began. Mr Morris dug his nails into Brett's skin and started scratching the bottom of the foot like crazy. Top to bottom. Top to bottom. Top to bottom. Brett's laughter exploded as he tried kicking away but failed miserably. David Morris was enjoying hearing his son's laughter. It sounded like he was fourteen or twelve again. So Mr Morris kept at it, scratching that foot like crazy. Then he paused to give his son a breather.
"P... p... please... stop... I can't... I can't take this..." Brett was breathing heavily and he was already beginning to sweat. Mr Morris smirked. "Dad... please..."
"We could've had some different father-son time, Brett," Mr Morris said. "But you chose this. So this will have to do." Again Mr Morris began caressing the bottom of the foot slowly.
Brett panicked again. "No... please... stop! We'll do something else! Please!"
Mr Morris chuckled. "Why? I actually am enjoying myself quite a lot. Now," he said. "Let's see how ticklish these piggies are..." He began scratching the bottom of the big toe.
Brett clenched his toes immediately, to prevent further torture. But that only made Mr Morris happier. He unclenched the toes with one hand and with the other, he started tickling the soft skin underneath the toes. A soft spot. Brett laughed even harder and louder. He was losing it. Mr Morris felt a great pleasure scratching that soft skin. Making his son beg for mercy was actually quite a nice feeling after Brett's being such a prick.
"Not so arrogant now, are you?" Mr Morris said. "Look at you. You look like you're about to cry, son."
"P... please, Dad... stop! I will do what... you say. Please!" Brett begged even more.
"I like the sound of that," Mr Morris said. "But I do still want to have some more fun with my boy."
And just like that, Mr Morris started tickling Brett's foot like crazy again. Scratching it hard. Really going at it. He was almost unleashing all the frustration he's been feeling since his son came back home on that foot. And God, he loved that! So he scratched with even more tenacity. His son's pleas for mercy were candy to his ears. He kept at it for a few more minutes before pausing again. Brett had tears of laughter on his cheeks and he was breathing really hard and fast.
"Looks like your foot is sweaty as now, boy," Mr Morris noticed as he rubbed his son's foot with his fingers.
"T... then... stop... you don't want... my stench near your face... now... do you?" Brett could barely speak.
Now let it be known that Mr Morris never intended for the punishment to take this long. He was just going to tickle his son for two minutes to teach him a lesson. But, something changed when he began the tickling and hearing his son's pleas. Mr Morris was enjoying it very much. Too much even. He did think he was perhaps going too far... but since he had gone this far... might as well go for it.
Mr Morris unlocked the foot from under his arm but still keeping a firm grip on the ankle and turned around to face his son and he had his son's sole facing him. He pulled the foot closer to his face so the toes would be inches away from his nose and took a big whiff.
"Boy, I've smelled deadlier cheese," he said, shaking his head. "How disappointing." He sniffed his son's toes some more. "Nope, definitely not a stench, son."
Brett was stunned. "D... Dad... that's disgusting..."
Mr Morris smirked. "You know, just for that, I think I'll tickle you some more." He began tickling his son's foot a bit more. "You know what? Apparently your foot is more sensitive when it's a bit wet. Should we try testing that theory?"
Brett simply looked back at his Dad, wondering what he was on about. Then he saw his Dad stick his tongue out and lick his foot from heel to the toes. Brett lost his breath. He didn't even have the time to say anything as his father began tickling him again mercilessly. Scratching those nails on his sole, under his toes... everywhere. But when his Dad started using his teeth as well to tickle his foot, that's when Brett felt dizzy. He was laughing so much and so hard. It felt like it was never going to stop.
But it did stop. Mr Morris felt he had taken far. Too far even. He wasn't even sure what happened. He felt so much pleasure from tickling his son senseless that he wondered if he was alright in his head. As he let go of Brett's foot, he sighed but kept a smile on his face.
"I can't believe... you licked... smelled... and bit... my foot..." Brett said, his voice a little hazy.
"That's what happens when you piss your old man off," Mr Morris replied, keeping his cool.
Then he saw it... his son smiled at him. It was like a giggle and a smile. Mr Morris didn't know what to make of that.
"You think you're tough eh?" Brett asked, smiling still. He then moved his untouched foot and placed it on his father's chest. "This one has been sweating in its sock this whole time... think you can handle it?"
Mr Morris smiled back, somehow a mutual understanding taking place. He never expected that to happen. But he was not going to ruin the moment by questioning it or asking Brett if he was sure. This was something special.
"I'm afraid so, son," Mr Morris said as he wrapped his hand around Brett's left foot and sniffed the toes through the sock. "Not bad..." Then he pulled off the sock gently, caressing and somewhat tickling the bottom of the foot as well. Finally the foot is revealed, and indeed, it was moist with sweat. Sweat that Mr Morris was more than happy to have some whiffs of. "You lose again, I'm afraid, boy," Mr Morris said.
"I guess I'm at your mercy then..." Brett said, pushing his foot closer to his father's face.
Mr Morris smirked and tickled the foot gently as he teased his son's toes with his tongue. He noticed his son's facial expression. "You like that do you? Being at my mercy?"
"Y... yeah..." Brett said almost whispering.
Mr Morris smiled. "That's good," he said. "I like having you at my mercy." And he dug his nails into his son's flesh again!
