Knox The Hatter
2nd Level Indigo Feather
- Joined
- Feb 11, 2003
- Messages
- 6,353
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QUIZ SHOW
By Christopher Khoury
Copyright 2004 Christopher Khoury. All Rights Reserved.
*
Abandoned houses can be dangerous.
You never know what could happen. The floor could collapse while you’re trooping on soft hardwood, for instance. Stuff like that. The kind of stuff that Barry and Dawn didn’t give a thought to…young adults didn’t usually think of such things…not on such a warm, still day.
“I see you brought something,” Dawn said, kicking back on an old futon.
“Oh, you did, huh?”
“You brought in a lunch bag.”
“Is that what it is?”
“That’s what I think it is…”
“You’re a very intelligent person, you know…”
“I’m not that smart. I’m here in an abandoned house with you.”
“No, that’s the smart part.” Barry cleared the long hair from his eyes. “You could be here with anyone else. No one else makes you laugh like I do.”
Dawn took a deep breath. Dawn had a weight problem, according to her parents, and the other kids back in her old high school. Barry thought that it was more of a parents and kids in school problem; that Dawn looked just fine in his eyes. To Dawn, Barry was just a fun friend, little more at this point in her life. In this summer before going off to college, she really couldn’t think of relationships beginning. That was clearly for the future. “I laugh a lot in my life, more than you know.”
“Oh, no you don’t. Most of the time, you worry about what college is gonna be like.”
Dawn stared at Barry’s narrow face; his long, amber hair obscured much of it, but couldn’t cover what was a very prominent, Roman nose. He wasn’t self conscious of such a thing, as others would’ve been; rather, he was self-effacing about it. “So, what is college like?”
Barry smiled, and opened a bottle of Poland Spring he removed from the lunch bag. “Well,” he postured, “it’s a lot more work than high school.”
“I figured that.”
“And you have lots of opportunities to get in trouble.”
“Aware of that too.”
“You’re aware of a lot of things.”
“That I’m definitely aware of.”
“Well, there are things that you’re certainly not aware of.”
“Like what?”
Barry pulled a worn paperback from the back of his shorts. The title read ‘A Thousand and One Trivia Questions’. “Stuff like this.”
Dawn laughed loudly. “Trivia! Who gives a fuck about trivia?”
Barry feigned a hurtful look. “Didn’t you know that trivia comprises the backbone of our great American civilization?”
“Yeah, right.”
“It’s very important. When you know this stuff, you can be the star at all kinds of parties.”
“Only in your very strange mind.”
“I bet you’d have trouble answering a lot of these.”
Dawn sighed, and stretched out her legs. A broad smile appeared on her face.
“In fact, I don’t think you’d be able to answer any of them.”
“I think you’re wrong.”
“Oh, no, I think I’m right.”
Dawn reached out and kicked Barry, not too hard. “Well, you might answer a few, maybe the questions about Scooby Doo, or Mighty Morphin Power Rangers.”
She kicked him again, and he stared into her smiling eyes.
“You know, you really have to stop kicking me.”
Dawn swiped Barry’s bottle of Poland Spring. “I’m guessing this is gonna be a question and answer session.”
“If you like,” he retorted.
“OK. So, you get to ask the questions, naturally.”
“Of course.”
“If I answer the questions right, what do I get?”
“Oh, I don’t know. A prize of my choosing to be awarded later.”
“And, if I’m wrong?”
Barry paused, opened the lunch bag, and pulled out another bottled water. “If you don’t answer the questions right, you get lunch.”
“Lunch?”
“Well, I’m the one who gets lunch. You’re the one who provides lunch.”
She looked at him incredulously. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“Well…”
“Ask the first question!”
Barry opened the book, and searched for a question. “Hmm.” He turned a page or two. “Here’s one. Who was John F. Kennedy’s Secretary of Defense?”
“Oh, that’s not too bad. Robert McNamara.”
“Why, you!” He playfully kicked her.
“Don’t you remember? I had to do a term paper on Kennedy. So, what kind of prize do I get?”
“Oh, I don’t know. If I see a scrunchie selling at the checkout counter at the 7-Eleven, I’ll pick it up.”
“Gee, thanks. I’m sorry I thought you’d buy me a Porsche.”
“Here’s another one. A coin has two sides, a reverse, and…”
“An obverse.”
Barry frowned. “Looks like you’re not so dumb after all.”
Dawn first kicked, and then tried to pinch him on his thigh.
“Hey, no physical abuse on the master of ceremonies! Wait, here’s one. This country leads the world in production of olive oil.”
Dawn smiled. “A no brainer. Italy.”
“Wrong you are! It’s Spain.”
“Spain? Can’t be.”
“Well, that’s one wrong.”
“And, I have to provide lunch. How am I gonna do that, if I didn’t bring anything?
Barry smiled. “Actually, you did.” He reached down, and gently placed her outstretched right leg on his chest. Slowly, he undid the laces on her red Converse All-Star.
“Why are you doing that?”
“Retrieving my prize.”
“What prize?”
He gingerly pulled the Converse All-Star off, softly rubbed the socked foot for a second, and then slowly removed the sock.
“I’m gonna ask again. What are you doing?”
He then stared at the exposed foot, which twitched after being confined in the size nine sneaker. It had a nice curvature. It also had a long second toe that equaled the big toe in length. He softly rubbed his hand on the sole, which was slightly hard on the heel.
“OK. Can you put it back on, now?”
Barry took his tongue, and let it glide up her sole in a dancing fashion, of which the heel was firmly clamped between his fingers and thumb. As the foot resisted mightily, the look of shock that was replaced by a “noooooooooooooooooo” and by peals of laughter seemed worth to Barry more than all of the money on earth.
“What the fuck was that?” She asked breathily. “Is that lunch?”
“Well, in a way.”
“I’m not so sure I like providing lunch.”
“Well, that’s the rules of the game. Loser provides lunch.”
“I think I can win this game,” Dawn muttered. “Ask the next question.”
“Ewwwwwwwwkay.” Danny turned the pages again. “Who played Carl the Greenskeeper in Caddyshack?”
“Oh, that’s easy. That’s…”
There was a pause. “That’s who?”
Dawn drank from the Poland Spring. “The guy from Ground Hog Day.”
“Yes, but I need a name.”
He took his index finger and began doing figure eights on the sole of her right foot. She bucked and jerked and laughed mightily.
“Need a name, need a name, need a name.”
“Wait, I know, I know,” she screamed, in between the hearty, high pitched laughter. “Bill Murray, Bill Murray.”
“Wow, I’m impressed. That’s very good.”
“You asshole, just wait, I’m gonna get you,” she said, laughing, as she kicked him in the knee.
“You’re not allowed to get me unless you win the game.”
“Wait, how do I know if I won the game?”
“Well, you have to answer twenty questions right…but this is not Twenty Questions. It’s Barry’s questions. So far, you got three questions.
“What if I want to stop in the middle?
“You can’t stop,” Barry said. “You have to finish.”
Dawn smiled, and sighed. “Fine.”
“The woman who gave up Monica Lewinsky.”
Dawn covered her eyes with her hand. “Oh, yeah. The old hag with the big blonde hair and the bags under her eyes. Trying to remember her name.”
Barry reached into the bag, and pulled out a baggie filled with white grapes. He took one grape, and inserted it in the space between her smallest toes.
“Hey, that’s cold.”
“Five seconds to answer the question.”
“Jesus! Ummmmm…that’s it! Tripp! Linda Tripp! What are you doing with those grapes?”
Barry had inserted more grapes in between her other toes. He managed to get three of them in there. He then picked up the book, and found another question. “What is the color of the boxes that goods and gifts from Tiffany’s come in?
“Uh…blue.”
“More specific…”
“Um…aqua?”
“Yeah, that fits. What was the name of the police series that Tyne Daly and Sharon Gless starred in?”
Dawn stared at Barry with a blank look. “Who?”
“Five seconds?”
“Hmm…”
The time passed quickly. “I’ve never heard of these pe…no no no no…hahahhaahhahahhahhahahahah!”
Barry had started plucking the grapes from between Dawn’s toes with his teeth. “Mmmm, delicious.”
“Stop, stop!” Dawn cried. “Pleeeeeeeeaahahahhahahh…”
All the grapes were gone, and Barry was neatly soaking up the grape juice with his lips. Another hearty laugh escaped Dawn’s chest; the foot danced frantically.
“OK, next question.” Barry went to another page. “Who wrote ‘Jurassic Park’?”
“Michael Crichton. Easy.”
“So, that’s five according to my count…but then, I did shitty in math, you know?”
Dawn sighed.
“Here, wait a minute…” Barry pulled something out of the lunch bag. To Dawn’s surprise, it was a spray can of Redi-Whip chocolate flavored whipped crème. “No one travels like I do…”
“That’s for sure.”
Barry undid the cap, revealing a tip where the crème shot out. With an evil glint in his eye, he took the can’s tip, and playfully scraped it along her sole, which began to dance feverishly.
“Stoooooohhhhhhp, Barry, stop, that tickles!” she shrieked.
“I know, it’s supposed to.”
“Next question!”
“What is the title of the French National Anthem?”
“Oh, I know this one. The Marseillaise, or something like that.”
Barry paused. “Yeah, it gets by the judges.”
“Next!”
“One of the characters on this show is a black cat that talks.”
“Oh, I know this one,” Dawn said, once again covering her eyes with her hand. Barry shook the can with sharp thrusts, and then pressed the button, spraying chocolate whipped crème all over Dawn’s toes. “Hey, that’s cold!”
“Yeah, it sure is, isn’t it? Five seconds.”
“Xena”.
Barry then lapsed into a pale impression of Regis Philbin. “Is dat yaw final ansuh?”
“Yes.”
Barry first paid attention to the melting crème that was dripping across her soles and on the top of her foot. Dawn’s eyes, in the middle of a roar of laughter escaping from her being, had begun to roll up into her head. In a few seconds, he began tonguing the great fluff of chocolate whipped crème in between her toes. “Noooooooooooooooooo!” Dawn screamed, between healthy peals of laughter.
“OK, OK, next question.” Barry picked up the book again.
After calming down from the laughter, Dawn asked, “what is this thing with you and feet? I never knew you had a foot fetish.”
“Well,” Barry said, sheepishly, “I never knew either, until now.”
“Oh, bullshit. Remember who you’re talking to.”
“Uh-huh.”
“And here I am with a foot with all kinds of sticky stuff on it.”
“I can do something about it.” Barry started cleaning off Dawn’s sole with his tongue. The rich, gorgeous laughter roared out again, the left foot started kicking for dear life, and the foot danced madly.
“Oh, that’s good. Next question…” Barry flipped the pages. “Oh, here’s one.” Barry stopped. Apparently, he had grown very self-conscious of the tent that had grown in his pants, which was just then being tended to by the stockinged left foot of Dawn, who had removed her shoe when Barry wasn’t paying attention.
“Relax, Barry.”
The foot softly kneaded the growing mound in Barry’s pants. He put the book down, and slowly removed her sock. The left foot, a perfect match for what was now a sugary, messy right one, had a thin ring around the second toe. “Looks good, doesn’t it?” she asked.
“Well, I tend to think so.”
The big and second toe on the left foot reached over an inch or two, and began fumbling about for the zipper. “I think your friend needs a little bit of air, don’t you think?”
Barry took a deep breath. “Yeah, I think so.”
“Relax.” With a bit of effort, Dawn’s toes brought the zipper down to the bottom. “I think you’re gonna need to do the rest, these toes aren’t that agile.”
Barry nervously pulled his skivvies aside, and his manhood came out for air. It was really standing at attention, now. “Hmm…Barry’s cut!”
“Have been for years.”
“Very nice.” She began to wrap her toes around what had become very large now, like a huge animal peering over the trees, and she gently stroked the shaft. Barry moaned softly.
“I never knew you liked feet.”
“Um hmm.”
“No, you seem to love feet.” The stroking motion continued, and Barry’s body tensed; his heartbeat rate increased. She shifted her body, and brought her right foot down to his groin, so that both feet could stroke him at the same time. By now, he had a healthy pre-wet going.
“Oh, God, please don’t stop,” he softly said. “I’ve never done this before.”
“You must be joking. I thought you were an old pro…”
“No, no one has ever done this.” His voice sounded a bit stressed.
Both of her feet stroked up and down his shaft; his body tensed, and he started pumping with the action. It was true. This really was the first time any female had introduced her feet to his most intimate side. He’d often wondered just what it was like, but he never dreamed that this would happen, especially since he had so orally gratified himself only a few minutes before.
“I’m tired, Barry. You pump, I rest.”
He complied with the request. He continued pumping, his body tensed, his eyes closed.
“You’re very nice down there, you know that?” Dawn asked.
Barry moaned softly.
“Of course, you haven’t heard a word of what I said,” she said with a giggle.
Finally, both Barry and Dawn started pumping in unison. Barry had a sweat stain going down his shirt. He cupped his hands around both feet, and helped her pump him, with her soles covering his most sensitive areas with each stroke.
“Blow, honey. Blow. That’s what I want you to do.”
Barry couldn’t hear that, either. By now, there was a rocket engine blasting in his head. In a few seconds, he could see lights in his eyes behind the lids, and feel the explosion down below. He pumped, she pumped, and his juice flew out in all directions, covering his pants, as well as her soft, curvaceous soles. The streams ran down her ankles.
“Barry blew,” Dawn giggled lowly.
Barry couldn’t answer, he was hyperventilating, and felt throbbing sensations deep within his torso.
“You alright?” Dawn asked.
“Yeah,” he answered, exhausted.
She then took both feet, and gently massaged the head and shaft of his penis. Barry moaned in ecstasy, his body tensing and contorting in different shapes.
“Barry feels better now,” she cooed, in singsong fashion.
“I do.” He then took both feet, warm, messy, and fragrant from his bodily fluids, and gently dug his thumbs into the soles, making circles with them. With that, Dawn broke out in her lovely, high pitched laughter. “Yes,” he said, “I do feel better now.”
By Christopher Khoury
Copyright 2004 Christopher Khoury. All Rights Reserved.
*
Abandoned houses can be dangerous.
You never know what could happen. The floor could collapse while you’re trooping on soft hardwood, for instance. Stuff like that. The kind of stuff that Barry and Dawn didn’t give a thought to…young adults didn’t usually think of such things…not on such a warm, still day.
“I see you brought something,” Dawn said, kicking back on an old futon.
“Oh, you did, huh?”
“You brought in a lunch bag.”
“Is that what it is?”
“That’s what I think it is…”
“You’re a very intelligent person, you know…”
“I’m not that smart. I’m here in an abandoned house with you.”
“No, that’s the smart part.” Barry cleared the long hair from his eyes. “You could be here with anyone else. No one else makes you laugh like I do.”
Dawn took a deep breath. Dawn had a weight problem, according to her parents, and the other kids back in her old high school. Barry thought that it was more of a parents and kids in school problem; that Dawn looked just fine in his eyes. To Dawn, Barry was just a fun friend, little more at this point in her life. In this summer before going off to college, she really couldn’t think of relationships beginning. That was clearly for the future. “I laugh a lot in my life, more than you know.”
“Oh, no you don’t. Most of the time, you worry about what college is gonna be like.”
Dawn stared at Barry’s narrow face; his long, amber hair obscured much of it, but couldn’t cover what was a very prominent, Roman nose. He wasn’t self conscious of such a thing, as others would’ve been; rather, he was self-effacing about it. “So, what is college like?”
Barry smiled, and opened a bottle of Poland Spring he removed from the lunch bag. “Well,” he postured, “it’s a lot more work than high school.”
“I figured that.”
“And you have lots of opportunities to get in trouble.”
“Aware of that too.”
“You’re aware of a lot of things.”
“That I’m definitely aware of.”
“Well, there are things that you’re certainly not aware of.”
“Like what?”
Barry pulled a worn paperback from the back of his shorts. The title read ‘A Thousand and One Trivia Questions’. “Stuff like this.”
Dawn laughed loudly. “Trivia! Who gives a fuck about trivia?”
Barry feigned a hurtful look. “Didn’t you know that trivia comprises the backbone of our great American civilization?”
“Yeah, right.”
“It’s very important. When you know this stuff, you can be the star at all kinds of parties.”
“Only in your very strange mind.”
“I bet you’d have trouble answering a lot of these.”
Dawn sighed, and stretched out her legs. A broad smile appeared on her face.
“In fact, I don’t think you’d be able to answer any of them.”
“I think you’re wrong.”
“Oh, no, I think I’m right.”
Dawn reached out and kicked Barry, not too hard. “Well, you might answer a few, maybe the questions about Scooby Doo, or Mighty Morphin Power Rangers.”
She kicked him again, and he stared into her smiling eyes.
“You know, you really have to stop kicking me.”
Dawn swiped Barry’s bottle of Poland Spring. “I’m guessing this is gonna be a question and answer session.”
“If you like,” he retorted.
“OK. So, you get to ask the questions, naturally.”
“Of course.”
“If I answer the questions right, what do I get?”
“Oh, I don’t know. A prize of my choosing to be awarded later.”
“And, if I’m wrong?”
Barry paused, opened the lunch bag, and pulled out another bottled water. “If you don’t answer the questions right, you get lunch.”
“Lunch?”
“Well, I’m the one who gets lunch. You’re the one who provides lunch.”
She looked at him incredulously. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“Well…”
“Ask the first question!”
Barry opened the book, and searched for a question. “Hmm.” He turned a page or two. “Here’s one. Who was John F. Kennedy’s Secretary of Defense?”
“Oh, that’s not too bad. Robert McNamara.”
“Why, you!” He playfully kicked her.
“Don’t you remember? I had to do a term paper on Kennedy. So, what kind of prize do I get?”
“Oh, I don’t know. If I see a scrunchie selling at the checkout counter at the 7-Eleven, I’ll pick it up.”
“Gee, thanks. I’m sorry I thought you’d buy me a Porsche.”
“Here’s another one. A coin has two sides, a reverse, and…”
“An obverse.”
Barry frowned. “Looks like you’re not so dumb after all.”
Dawn first kicked, and then tried to pinch him on his thigh.
“Hey, no physical abuse on the master of ceremonies! Wait, here’s one. This country leads the world in production of olive oil.”
Dawn smiled. “A no brainer. Italy.”
“Wrong you are! It’s Spain.”
“Spain? Can’t be.”
“Well, that’s one wrong.”
“And, I have to provide lunch. How am I gonna do that, if I didn’t bring anything?
Barry smiled. “Actually, you did.” He reached down, and gently placed her outstretched right leg on his chest. Slowly, he undid the laces on her red Converse All-Star.
“Why are you doing that?”
“Retrieving my prize.”
“What prize?”
He gingerly pulled the Converse All-Star off, softly rubbed the socked foot for a second, and then slowly removed the sock.
“I’m gonna ask again. What are you doing?”
He then stared at the exposed foot, which twitched after being confined in the size nine sneaker. It had a nice curvature. It also had a long second toe that equaled the big toe in length. He softly rubbed his hand on the sole, which was slightly hard on the heel.
“OK. Can you put it back on, now?”
Barry took his tongue, and let it glide up her sole in a dancing fashion, of which the heel was firmly clamped between his fingers and thumb. As the foot resisted mightily, the look of shock that was replaced by a “noooooooooooooooooo” and by peals of laughter seemed worth to Barry more than all of the money on earth.
“What the fuck was that?” She asked breathily. “Is that lunch?”
“Well, in a way.”
“I’m not so sure I like providing lunch.”
“Well, that’s the rules of the game. Loser provides lunch.”
“I think I can win this game,” Dawn muttered. “Ask the next question.”
“Ewwwwwwwwkay.” Danny turned the pages again. “Who played Carl the Greenskeeper in Caddyshack?”
“Oh, that’s easy. That’s…”
There was a pause. “That’s who?”
Dawn drank from the Poland Spring. “The guy from Ground Hog Day.”
“Yes, but I need a name.”
He took his index finger and began doing figure eights on the sole of her right foot. She bucked and jerked and laughed mightily.
“Need a name, need a name, need a name.”
“Wait, I know, I know,” she screamed, in between the hearty, high pitched laughter. “Bill Murray, Bill Murray.”
“Wow, I’m impressed. That’s very good.”
“You asshole, just wait, I’m gonna get you,” she said, laughing, as she kicked him in the knee.
“You’re not allowed to get me unless you win the game.”
“Wait, how do I know if I won the game?”
“Well, you have to answer twenty questions right…but this is not Twenty Questions. It’s Barry’s questions. So far, you got three questions.
“What if I want to stop in the middle?
“You can’t stop,” Barry said. “You have to finish.”
Dawn smiled, and sighed. “Fine.”
“The woman who gave up Monica Lewinsky.”
Dawn covered her eyes with her hand. “Oh, yeah. The old hag with the big blonde hair and the bags under her eyes. Trying to remember her name.”
Barry reached into the bag, and pulled out a baggie filled with white grapes. He took one grape, and inserted it in the space between her smallest toes.
“Hey, that’s cold.”
“Five seconds to answer the question.”
“Jesus! Ummmmm…that’s it! Tripp! Linda Tripp! What are you doing with those grapes?”
Barry had inserted more grapes in between her other toes. He managed to get three of them in there. He then picked up the book, and found another question. “What is the color of the boxes that goods and gifts from Tiffany’s come in?
“Uh…blue.”
“More specific…”
“Um…aqua?”
“Yeah, that fits. What was the name of the police series that Tyne Daly and Sharon Gless starred in?”
Dawn stared at Barry with a blank look. “Who?”
“Five seconds?”
“Hmm…”
The time passed quickly. “I’ve never heard of these pe…no no no no…hahahhaahhahahhahhahahahah!”
Barry had started plucking the grapes from between Dawn’s toes with his teeth. “Mmmm, delicious.”
“Stop, stop!” Dawn cried. “Pleeeeeeeeaahahahhahahh…”
All the grapes were gone, and Barry was neatly soaking up the grape juice with his lips. Another hearty laugh escaped Dawn’s chest; the foot danced frantically.
“OK, next question.” Barry went to another page. “Who wrote ‘Jurassic Park’?”
“Michael Crichton. Easy.”
“So, that’s five according to my count…but then, I did shitty in math, you know?”
Dawn sighed.
“Here, wait a minute…” Barry pulled something out of the lunch bag. To Dawn’s surprise, it was a spray can of Redi-Whip chocolate flavored whipped crème. “No one travels like I do…”
“That’s for sure.”
Barry undid the cap, revealing a tip where the crème shot out. With an evil glint in his eye, he took the can’s tip, and playfully scraped it along her sole, which began to dance feverishly.
“Stoooooohhhhhhp, Barry, stop, that tickles!” she shrieked.
“I know, it’s supposed to.”
“Next question!”
“What is the title of the French National Anthem?”
“Oh, I know this one. The Marseillaise, or something like that.”
Barry paused. “Yeah, it gets by the judges.”
“Next!”
“One of the characters on this show is a black cat that talks.”
“Oh, I know this one,” Dawn said, once again covering her eyes with her hand. Barry shook the can with sharp thrusts, and then pressed the button, spraying chocolate whipped crème all over Dawn’s toes. “Hey, that’s cold!”
“Yeah, it sure is, isn’t it? Five seconds.”
“Xena”.
Barry then lapsed into a pale impression of Regis Philbin. “Is dat yaw final ansuh?”
“Yes.”
Barry first paid attention to the melting crème that was dripping across her soles and on the top of her foot. Dawn’s eyes, in the middle of a roar of laughter escaping from her being, had begun to roll up into her head. In a few seconds, he began tonguing the great fluff of chocolate whipped crème in between her toes. “Noooooooooooooooooo!” Dawn screamed, between healthy peals of laughter.
“OK, OK, next question.” Barry picked up the book again.
After calming down from the laughter, Dawn asked, “what is this thing with you and feet? I never knew you had a foot fetish.”
“Well,” Barry said, sheepishly, “I never knew either, until now.”
“Oh, bullshit. Remember who you’re talking to.”
“Uh-huh.”
“And here I am with a foot with all kinds of sticky stuff on it.”
“I can do something about it.” Barry started cleaning off Dawn’s sole with his tongue. The rich, gorgeous laughter roared out again, the left foot started kicking for dear life, and the foot danced madly.
“Oh, that’s good. Next question…” Barry flipped the pages. “Oh, here’s one.” Barry stopped. Apparently, he had grown very self-conscious of the tent that had grown in his pants, which was just then being tended to by the stockinged left foot of Dawn, who had removed her shoe when Barry wasn’t paying attention.
“Relax, Barry.”
The foot softly kneaded the growing mound in Barry’s pants. He put the book down, and slowly removed her sock. The left foot, a perfect match for what was now a sugary, messy right one, had a thin ring around the second toe. “Looks good, doesn’t it?” she asked.
“Well, I tend to think so.”
The big and second toe on the left foot reached over an inch or two, and began fumbling about for the zipper. “I think your friend needs a little bit of air, don’t you think?”
Barry took a deep breath. “Yeah, I think so.”
“Relax.” With a bit of effort, Dawn’s toes brought the zipper down to the bottom. “I think you’re gonna need to do the rest, these toes aren’t that agile.”
Barry nervously pulled his skivvies aside, and his manhood came out for air. It was really standing at attention, now. “Hmm…Barry’s cut!”
“Have been for years.”
“Very nice.” She began to wrap her toes around what had become very large now, like a huge animal peering over the trees, and she gently stroked the shaft. Barry moaned softly.
“I never knew you liked feet.”
“Um hmm.”
“No, you seem to love feet.” The stroking motion continued, and Barry’s body tensed; his heartbeat rate increased. She shifted her body, and brought her right foot down to his groin, so that both feet could stroke him at the same time. By now, he had a healthy pre-wet going.
“Oh, God, please don’t stop,” he softly said. “I’ve never done this before.”
“You must be joking. I thought you were an old pro…”
“No, no one has ever done this.” His voice sounded a bit stressed.
Both of her feet stroked up and down his shaft; his body tensed, and he started pumping with the action. It was true. This really was the first time any female had introduced her feet to his most intimate side. He’d often wondered just what it was like, but he never dreamed that this would happen, especially since he had so orally gratified himself only a few minutes before.
“I’m tired, Barry. You pump, I rest.”
He complied with the request. He continued pumping, his body tensed, his eyes closed.
“You’re very nice down there, you know that?” Dawn asked.
Barry moaned softly.
“Of course, you haven’t heard a word of what I said,” she said with a giggle.
Finally, both Barry and Dawn started pumping in unison. Barry had a sweat stain going down his shirt. He cupped his hands around both feet, and helped her pump him, with her soles covering his most sensitive areas with each stroke.
“Blow, honey. Blow. That’s what I want you to do.”
Barry couldn’t hear that, either. By now, there was a rocket engine blasting in his head. In a few seconds, he could see lights in his eyes behind the lids, and feel the explosion down below. He pumped, she pumped, and his juice flew out in all directions, covering his pants, as well as her soft, curvaceous soles. The streams ran down her ankles.
“Barry blew,” Dawn giggled lowly.
Barry couldn’t answer, he was hyperventilating, and felt throbbing sensations deep within his torso.
“You alright?” Dawn asked.
“Yeah,” he answered, exhausted.
She then took both feet, and gently massaged the head and shaft of his penis. Barry moaned in ecstasy, his body tensing and contorting in different shapes.
“Barry feels better now,” she cooed, in singsong fashion.
“I do.” He then took both feet, warm, messy, and fragrant from his bodily fluids, and gently dug his thumbs into the soles, making circles with them. With that, Dawn broke out in her lovely, high pitched laughter. “Yes,” he said, “I do feel better now.”
