bulletbill57
TMF Poster
- Joined
- Nov 2, 2001
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Soloist
Prologue:
August. Drum corps’ Super Bowl was here. The long road to the Drum Corps, U.S. World Championship had been good to Los Muchachos of Northfield, New Jersey. After finishing fourth, third and then second in the last three championships, they were undefeated. They had won every local contest, the state championship, The Dream Contest, National and International Opens, and DCUS North and East. Now, only two drum and bugle corps that they had yet to face this season; the Purple Demons of Baton Rouge, Louisiana, with whom they had a cordial if not outright friendly relationship with, and their bitter DCUS West rivals, the hated Eleventh Troopers of Cheyenne, Wyoming, stood between them and a championship trophy-THIS was their year!
As successful as the season had gone for his corps, it had also been a good one for James “J.D.” Zimmerman. It had taken a brutal toll on him as well. A quiet, shy, but handsome boy in his rookie year with the corps, and a sophomore music major in college, he had been quickly recognized for his outstanding ability as a soprano bugle player and immediately been given a solo in this season’s show for his efforts. This did not set well with many veterans of Los Muchachos, making it very difficult, if not nearly impossible for him to make the friendships a newcomer needs to survive the season. Add to this a “Dear John” letter from his girlfriend, who had found another boy to see during the long separations associated with marching in a drum corps, and the combination of isolation from his peers and loss of his girl made J.D. a very lonely boy, but grimly determined to do a good job for his corps and win, if not their acceptance, at least their grudging respect!
They were performing “Espiritu del Toro” during one of their endless hot, draining rehearsals when it happened. A flag twirler in the color guard brought her flag too low as she swirled it and caught J.D. in the bell of his horn, making him eat his mouthpiece and snapping his head back. Blood flowed. “Dammit Debbie, get the flag higher! Are you gonna smack other players too?” screamed director Dr. Jerry Payne. “J.D. are you OK?” he said. J.D. staggered from the impact, not feeling the pain yet but bleeding all over his t-shirt, the taste of blood heavy in his mouth. “Serves ya right rookie!” chimed in one of the veteran soprano players until the director jumped right in his face, roaring mad, and made him wilt under his verbal assault. One of the assistant directors brought J.D. a bag of ice to put on his lips and led him off to the sidelines to rest until the bleeding stopped, and then the pain began. Tomorrow night was the championship and J.D. prayed he would be able to play and perform his solo. He sat with his head on his knees, holding the ice bag to his lips.
Rehearsal ended and J.D. sat, still icing his wounded lips. Suddenly a soft girl’s voice called his name. “J.D.? J.D.?” He lifted his head. Sitting next to him was Debbie Wiggins, flag corps captain, whose flag had struck his horn and cut his lip. “J.D., I’m sooooo sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you!” she said. She gulped and a little sob escaped her lips. Tears glistened in her eyes. Debbie was very pretty, long blonde hair and green eyes. “Please don’t be mad at me J.D.!” she pleaded. “I know that most of the corps has been rough on you this year, but not me. I didn’t mean to hurt you, I-I think you’re cute.” She said. She smiled at him. A gentle, pretty smile as a tear rolled down her cheek. J.D. smiled back, and gently brushed away the tear. Debbie had taken off her boots and socks after rehearsal and sat barefoot, Indian-style beside him. He looked at her feet and his smile turned wicked. “I’ll be OK, and J.D. doesn’t get mad Debbie, J.D. gets even!” he said as he grabbed her right ankle and softly stroked the bare arch of her foot, making her shriek and giggle. J.D. smiled again. “You’re ticklish? OOOOOO, I LIKE that!’” he said. “I’ll keep that in mind for another time, and I think you’re very pretty too.” he said, and smiled that evil grin again. Debbie giggled and pulled her feet away from him, smiling back. For some strange reason, his lips didn’t hurt as badly now.
“Hey Zimmerman! Ya gonna have chops for tomorrow night? Don’t blow it ya rookie bastard!” taunted a member of the drum line as the corps left the supper line outside the dorms of the University of Wisconsin. J.D. cringed, but held his head up, defiant, his hands balling into fists. He started to speak, when Debbie Wiggins angrily screamed “You leave him alone, he’s a member of OUR corps, not the Eleventh Troopers, and he does a great job!” as she rushed toward the drummer. “OK-OK! Just kidding!” said the drummer as he backed off, palms held toward her. She ran to J.D. and grabbed him around his waist. “J.D., PLEASE, don’t let them get to you!” pleaded Debbie, stroking his face, her eyes tearing. “I’m OK Debbie.” he said as he held her in his arms. She felt so soft and warm. He took her hand and said “Let’s go somewhere we can be alone.”, and then he gently kissed her on the cheek. Debbie looked back at him and smiled.
They sneaked into J.D.’s room in the dormitory and Debbie grabbed and passionately kissed him. It was a sloppy wet kiss, both gentle and urgent. J.D. kissed her back just as intensely, then looked into Debbie’s eyes. “I-I’ve been watching you all season J.D. and I can tell how lonely you’ve been. The other members of the corps haven’t made you feel very welcome just because you’re very talented. Well, I’m not that way and I’m really attracted to you.” Debbie said, smiling. “ I knew marching corps wasn’t gonna be easy as the new kid on the block Debbie, especially when Dr. Payne gave me a solo over people that were already long-time members. But I’m a survivor, and no matter what they dish out to me, I’ll show these folks that I can do my job!” said J.D. his sore lips set grimly in a thin line, eyes blazing. Then his expression softened. “I’ve been kinda watching you too Debbie , and I guess in a way it was good that you did hit me. You see, I’m not too good with girls. Mine dumped me when I told her I was marching corps and I wanted to get to know you, but I-I…” his voice trailed off and he hung his head. Debbie put her hands on his face and brought it back up. She looked into his eyes, grinning. “You’re SHY! It’s so CUTE!” she giggled. “Well you don’t have to be that way with me. I like you, a lot, and especially now that I know what you’re really like. You’re very sweet J.D.”. She kissed him again. J.D. returned the kiss, pulling her close and hugging her hard to him. “Oh J.D!” she sighed in his ear. He pulled her onto his bed, still kissing her and ran his right hand over her breasts. The nipples were hard through the fabric of her t-shirt and bra. She kissed him again, ran her hand down to the crotch of his cutoffs, and looked deeply into his eyes again. “I want you!” she panted. J.D. wanted her too, but first he wanted to do something to her he had discovered when they had met earlier, and he wanted to see that beautiful smile and hear that cute giggle of hers again, but she had to be barefoot first.
Smiling wickedly, J.D. grabbed her ankles and began to unlace her sneakers. “Remember how I told you that I liked that you were ticklish Debbie?” J.D. said with an impish, yet feigned grin of innocence. Debbie’s eyes grew wide. She began to giggle and try to pull her feet away, but she was no match for J.D.’s strong but gentle grasp. J.D. pulled off her sneakers. She wore no socks, so her feet were soft, warm, moist and very sensitive. “N-no J.D., m-my feet are very ticklish, please!” she giggled again, smiling broadly. “Did you say just say please?” J.D. replied, still showing that mock angelic face but with the devil dancing in his eyes. “Oh God J.D,. I-I meant please NO!” Debbie stammered and giggled. J.D. smiled evilly, but maintained his angelic expression at the same time. “You said PLEASE again Debbie, and I still haven’t finished getting even yet.”. He looked at her bare feet. They were small and pretty, the nails polished a sky blue. “Pretty feet, and ticklish too! What more could a guy ask for?” J.D. said with a wicked laugh and softly stroked the toes of her feet. Debbie knew she was beaten. Barefoot, blushing, she grinned and giggled, very aware of what he was going to do next.
Slowly, lightly, J.D. caressed Debbie’s naked soles, gently stroking her arches and circling the balls of her feet, running up to her toes. “SQUEEAAL! AAAHAHA-HAHAHAHAHAHAAASHRIEEEK!”. Debbie laughed and squealed as J.D. tickled her.
He stroked underneath her toes where they joined the foot. “EEEEEEHEEHEEHEEHEE-HEEEEESHRIEKAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAA!”. Debbie giggled and squirmed, bouncing up and down on the bed. He softly tickled the tips of her toes and then gently ran his fingers between each toe. “EEEEEYAHAHAHAHAHAAASHRIEK! EEEEE-HEEHEEHEEHEEHEESQUEAALLLAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAA!”. Debbie
smiled broadly, giggled, squeaked and squirmed. Her blushing body began to sweat, and she began to get wet somewhere else as well, for she began to enjoy the ticklish sensations coming from her feet. They made her shriek with laughter, yet at the same time it felt really good too.
“Such pretty feet, I bet they are tasty too!” said J.D., smiling wickedly as he began to use his tongue on Debbie’s bare feet. He licked her arches slowly and softly. Debbie howled with laughter, bouncing on the bed again. His tongue tickled her feet worse than his fingers did, and she loved it even more. J.D. circled the balls of her feet with his tongue, then licked her toe pads-sawing his tongue between each toe as he went-enjoying the salty taste of her foot sweat. Debbie threw back her head in another fit of ticklish laughter. “AAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAASQUEEEAAALLLSHRIEK!
AAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAA!”. He lazily licked up and down her naked soles and toes as if he were licking an ice cream cone, nibbling her soles and arches as he went, throwing Debbie into another fit of giggles. “EEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEE-HEEYAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAA!”. Thoroughly lubricating her feet with his saliva, J.D. went back to tickling her soles with his fingers. “SQUEEEAAAAALLLL!
AAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! SHRIEK! HEEHEEHEEHEEHEEYAAAAAAA-
HAHAHAHAHAHAAA! AH! AH! AH! I’MCUMMING! EEEHEEHEEHEEHEE-
AAAHAHAHA-HAHAHAAA!”. Did he hear what she’d just said correctly?
J.D. let go of her to let her catch her breath and she hugged him and kissed him hard, panting and gasping. “OH -J.D.-PANT-ITFELTSOGOOD-GASP-TICKLEFELT-SOGOOD-SOOOGOOD-I-I-CAME-GASP-I-CAME-PANT-I-CAMEINMYPANTS! PLEASEFUCKME-FUCK-AND TICKLEMYFEETPLEASE-GASP-PLEASE-TICKLEMYFEETANDFUCK-PANT-FUCKMEANDTICKLEMYFEETPLEASE!
PLEASE!”.
“You said please again, Debbie!” J.D. smiled and immediately got hard as Debbie panted and giggled. He peeled off her shorts and come-soaked panties. Pulling off his cutoffs and underwear, he lay on his back on the bed and put Debbie astride him, riding his dick. He easily reached down to tickle Debbie’s bare soles facing up on the bed. Once again, Debbie began to giggle and sweat, bucking on his dick. “AAAHAHAHAHAHAHAAA! CUMMAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAAA!”. Her climax came swiftly this time. J.D. rolled Debbie on to her back, placed her heels on his shoulders and slid his dick into her as he began to lick her bare feet. “EEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEESHRIIEEK! EEEHEEHEEHEEHEESQUEEEAAAL! AAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA!”. His tongue licking her feet felt so good, but it made Debbie squeal with laughter from the intense tickling sensations.“WAAHAHAHA-EEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAI’MCUMMING!
AAAHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEYAHAHAHAHAHAAA!”. Debbie came again as J.D. groaned and spewed his sperm into her drooling pussy.
Debbie and J.D. hold each other close on the bed, breathing heavily as they exchange sloppy, drooling tongue kisses. “I love you J.D.!” says Debbie, panting. Tears glisten in her eyes, but she has a radiant smile. “I love you too Debbie!” he says back, his evil grin has been replaced with a happy smile and his face actually looks truly angelic now. More kisses and caresses. Debbie runs her bare right foot down J.D.’s leg. Still kissing Debbie, he pulls her right leg up and tickles her foot, enjoying her muffled giggles.
“MMMWUFHMM-HMMWAHAHAHMMWUFAHAHAMWAAHAHAHM-HMM!”
Now hard again, he puts Debbie on her knees and slides into her sopping pussy from behind. Reaching around with his left hand, he tickles her clit as his right reaches down to again caress her bare right sole facing up on the bed. “YAAAHAHAHAHAHAHA! SQUEAAAL! EEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEESQUEEEALLLAAAHAHAHAHA-YAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAA!”. J.D. then switches hands, tickling her left foot with his left hand as his right circles her clit. “HEEHEEHEEHEESQUEEEALLLL! CUMMINGAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAA!”. Debbie climaxes again as J.D. once more grunts and spurts more of his semen into her. They both collapse on the bed, weak from their lovemaking, and holding each other close, kiss again. Members of many corps, not just Los Muchachos, would puzzle over the laughter coming from J.D.’s room that night long after they had aged out.
J.D. and Debbie walk from the dorm hand-in-hand as the assistant corps director approaches. “You got mail, J.D.!”. It was a post card from his ex-girlfriend. They read it together. She said she had made a mistake, was very sorry, and wanted to get back together. J.D. and Debbie looked at each other, then both burst into laughter as J.D. tears the card to pieces and throws it into a nearby wastebasket.
The scores in the preliminaries had Los Muchachos in second place behind the Purple Demons with the Eleventh Troopers in third, and a mere one tenth of a point either way would decide the champion amongst the top three. Eleven of the top twelve corps had performed in the finals and Los Muchachos was last on to perform. The announcer said “From Northfield, New Jersey, LOS MUCHACHOS!” to thundering applause from the crowd. Out they came to “Espiritu del Toro” alternately roaring and whispering, their marching matching the tone of the music as they wove their magic with the drill and music and the crowd responded enthusiastically. They halted for several seconds, waiting, building excitement for their finale. The seconds of silence ticked off as the drum major began a high mark-time, “PLATOON, MARCH! ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR!”. The musical prelude to their finale was solemn and low. As J.D. marched to his position, he snapped his soprano bugle to his lips, tilted his horn up toward the crowd, and played.
J.D. had the fans on their feet screaming as he played his solo. The first mournful notes of “Matador” floated from his horn across the night as the rest of the brass section answered it in thunderous response. He had endured so much to play this final solo, and now he put every one of the painful feelings he had experienced into it as he played to the crowd. The sad, haunting melody coming from his horn was not just notes written on a sheet of music, but it came from his heart as well, moving many of the crowd to tears. And as he played, he felt release from it as all the heartache and suffering of the season drained from his soul. A rolling, rumbling drumbreak shattered the night and the corps came roaring into the sidelines to the end of their finale, “Pictures de Espana”, as the fans cheered them on. J.D. lifted his horn to the sky to play the final solo, “Call To The Bulls” as they halted on the sideline to end the show, his last note a sustained high-octave, screaming “A-flat”, bringing the house down. At last, Los Muchachos claimed the trophy so long denied them, coming from behind to edge the Purple Demons, who took second. Almost as satisfying for them was that a New York corps, the Silver Lancers, surged at the right time to slip into third place and knock the Eleventh Troopers out of medal competition.
Debbie ran squealing with delight to J.D. after retreat, hugging and kissing him. The flags and rifles of Los Muchachos had taken top honors for guard and J.D. himself took the trophy for best Soprano Bugle performance. “Welcome to Los Muchachos, J.D.!”
Surprised and puzzled, J.D. turned around. It was George Metrunzio, the drum major. Smiling, George said “I can’t say welcome rookie, because you aren’t-not anymore. I welcome you.” He extended his hand. J.D. took it and smiled. His arm around Debbie, other members of Los Muchachos came forward to welcome him finally, and shake his hand. He was a champion, and had found acceptance-and love-at last!
Epilogue:
J.D. and Debbie Zimmerman sat in the stands, smiling as they watched their son Bobby in his rookie year with Los Muchachos claim his first DCUS Gold medal, one of three-in-a-row he would win in his time with the corps before he aged out. Turning to Debbie, J.D. whispered in her ear, “And to think that he’s out there all because your feet are ticklish!”. He reached down and caressed the arch of one of her sandal-clad, stockingless feet and Debbie giggled, cuddling close to him. “You keep that up, and I’ll be pregnant again, Mr. Zimmerman!” she said, smiling back at him. They had another son and a daughter, also conceived as a result of Debbie’s ticklish feet that would carry on the drum corps tradition once they were old enough. J.D. and Debbie had two gold medals from their old corps eight championships-won in split seasons-and now Bobby added another. Under his corps uniform that night, Bobby wore one of each of his parent’s gold medals. As the corps began its finale, a familiar soft, solemn prelude drifted across the hot August night air. J.D. and Debbie held hands tightly and tears ran streaming from both parents’ eyes as Bobby marched, turned directly to them in the stands, and played his solo, the same one that had once been his father’s and had brought his parents together: “Matador”.
IN LOVING MEMORY OF THE HAWTHORNE, NJ MUCHACHOS, AND AUBURN, NY PURPLE LANCERS DRUM AND BUGLE CORPS
Prologue:
August. Drum corps’ Super Bowl was here. The long road to the Drum Corps, U.S. World Championship had been good to Los Muchachos of Northfield, New Jersey. After finishing fourth, third and then second in the last three championships, they were undefeated. They had won every local contest, the state championship, The Dream Contest, National and International Opens, and DCUS North and East. Now, only two drum and bugle corps that they had yet to face this season; the Purple Demons of Baton Rouge, Louisiana, with whom they had a cordial if not outright friendly relationship with, and their bitter DCUS West rivals, the hated Eleventh Troopers of Cheyenne, Wyoming, stood between them and a championship trophy-THIS was their year!
As successful as the season had gone for his corps, it had also been a good one for James “J.D.” Zimmerman. It had taken a brutal toll on him as well. A quiet, shy, but handsome boy in his rookie year with the corps, and a sophomore music major in college, he had been quickly recognized for his outstanding ability as a soprano bugle player and immediately been given a solo in this season’s show for his efforts. This did not set well with many veterans of Los Muchachos, making it very difficult, if not nearly impossible for him to make the friendships a newcomer needs to survive the season. Add to this a “Dear John” letter from his girlfriend, who had found another boy to see during the long separations associated with marching in a drum corps, and the combination of isolation from his peers and loss of his girl made J.D. a very lonely boy, but grimly determined to do a good job for his corps and win, if not their acceptance, at least their grudging respect!
They were performing “Espiritu del Toro” during one of their endless hot, draining rehearsals when it happened. A flag twirler in the color guard brought her flag too low as she swirled it and caught J.D. in the bell of his horn, making him eat his mouthpiece and snapping his head back. Blood flowed. “Dammit Debbie, get the flag higher! Are you gonna smack other players too?” screamed director Dr. Jerry Payne. “J.D. are you OK?” he said. J.D. staggered from the impact, not feeling the pain yet but bleeding all over his t-shirt, the taste of blood heavy in his mouth. “Serves ya right rookie!” chimed in one of the veteran soprano players until the director jumped right in his face, roaring mad, and made him wilt under his verbal assault. One of the assistant directors brought J.D. a bag of ice to put on his lips and led him off to the sidelines to rest until the bleeding stopped, and then the pain began. Tomorrow night was the championship and J.D. prayed he would be able to play and perform his solo. He sat with his head on his knees, holding the ice bag to his lips.
Rehearsal ended and J.D. sat, still icing his wounded lips. Suddenly a soft girl’s voice called his name. “J.D.? J.D.?” He lifted his head. Sitting next to him was Debbie Wiggins, flag corps captain, whose flag had struck his horn and cut his lip. “J.D., I’m sooooo sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you!” she said. She gulped and a little sob escaped her lips. Tears glistened in her eyes. Debbie was very pretty, long blonde hair and green eyes. “Please don’t be mad at me J.D.!” she pleaded. “I know that most of the corps has been rough on you this year, but not me. I didn’t mean to hurt you, I-I think you’re cute.” She said. She smiled at him. A gentle, pretty smile as a tear rolled down her cheek. J.D. smiled back, and gently brushed away the tear. Debbie had taken off her boots and socks after rehearsal and sat barefoot, Indian-style beside him. He looked at her feet and his smile turned wicked. “I’ll be OK, and J.D. doesn’t get mad Debbie, J.D. gets even!” he said as he grabbed her right ankle and softly stroked the bare arch of her foot, making her shriek and giggle. J.D. smiled again. “You’re ticklish? OOOOOO, I LIKE that!’” he said. “I’ll keep that in mind for another time, and I think you’re very pretty too.” he said, and smiled that evil grin again. Debbie giggled and pulled her feet away from him, smiling back. For some strange reason, his lips didn’t hurt as badly now.
“Hey Zimmerman! Ya gonna have chops for tomorrow night? Don’t blow it ya rookie bastard!” taunted a member of the drum line as the corps left the supper line outside the dorms of the University of Wisconsin. J.D. cringed, but held his head up, defiant, his hands balling into fists. He started to speak, when Debbie Wiggins angrily screamed “You leave him alone, he’s a member of OUR corps, not the Eleventh Troopers, and he does a great job!” as she rushed toward the drummer. “OK-OK! Just kidding!” said the drummer as he backed off, palms held toward her. She ran to J.D. and grabbed him around his waist. “J.D., PLEASE, don’t let them get to you!” pleaded Debbie, stroking his face, her eyes tearing. “I’m OK Debbie.” he said as he held her in his arms. She felt so soft and warm. He took her hand and said “Let’s go somewhere we can be alone.”, and then he gently kissed her on the cheek. Debbie looked back at him and smiled.
They sneaked into J.D.’s room in the dormitory and Debbie grabbed and passionately kissed him. It was a sloppy wet kiss, both gentle and urgent. J.D. kissed her back just as intensely, then looked into Debbie’s eyes. “I-I’ve been watching you all season J.D. and I can tell how lonely you’ve been. The other members of the corps haven’t made you feel very welcome just because you’re very talented. Well, I’m not that way and I’m really attracted to you.” Debbie said, smiling. “ I knew marching corps wasn’t gonna be easy as the new kid on the block Debbie, especially when Dr. Payne gave me a solo over people that were already long-time members. But I’m a survivor, and no matter what they dish out to me, I’ll show these folks that I can do my job!” said J.D. his sore lips set grimly in a thin line, eyes blazing. Then his expression softened. “I’ve been kinda watching you too Debbie , and I guess in a way it was good that you did hit me. You see, I’m not too good with girls. Mine dumped me when I told her I was marching corps and I wanted to get to know you, but I-I…” his voice trailed off and he hung his head. Debbie put her hands on his face and brought it back up. She looked into his eyes, grinning. “You’re SHY! It’s so CUTE!” she giggled. “Well you don’t have to be that way with me. I like you, a lot, and especially now that I know what you’re really like. You’re very sweet J.D.”. She kissed him again. J.D. returned the kiss, pulling her close and hugging her hard to him. “Oh J.D!” she sighed in his ear. He pulled her onto his bed, still kissing her and ran his right hand over her breasts. The nipples were hard through the fabric of her t-shirt and bra. She kissed him again, ran her hand down to the crotch of his cutoffs, and looked deeply into his eyes again. “I want you!” she panted. J.D. wanted her too, but first he wanted to do something to her he had discovered when they had met earlier, and he wanted to see that beautiful smile and hear that cute giggle of hers again, but she had to be barefoot first.
Smiling wickedly, J.D. grabbed her ankles and began to unlace her sneakers. “Remember how I told you that I liked that you were ticklish Debbie?” J.D. said with an impish, yet feigned grin of innocence. Debbie’s eyes grew wide. She began to giggle and try to pull her feet away, but she was no match for J.D.’s strong but gentle grasp. J.D. pulled off her sneakers. She wore no socks, so her feet were soft, warm, moist and very sensitive. “N-no J.D., m-my feet are very ticklish, please!” she giggled again, smiling broadly. “Did you say just say please?” J.D. replied, still showing that mock angelic face but with the devil dancing in his eyes. “Oh God J.D,. I-I meant please NO!” Debbie stammered and giggled. J.D. smiled evilly, but maintained his angelic expression at the same time. “You said PLEASE again Debbie, and I still haven’t finished getting even yet.”. He looked at her bare feet. They were small and pretty, the nails polished a sky blue. “Pretty feet, and ticklish too! What more could a guy ask for?” J.D. said with a wicked laugh and softly stroked the toes of her feet. Debbie knew she was beaten. Barefoot, blushing, she grinned and giggled, very aware of what he was going to do next.
Slowly, lightly, J.D. caressed Debbie’s naked soles, gently stroking her arches and circling the balls of her feet, running up to her toes. “SQUEEAAL! AAAHAHA-HAHAHAHAHAHAAASHRIEEEK!”. Debbie laughed and squealed as J.D. tickled her.
He stroked underneath her toes where they joined the foot. “EEEEEEHEEHEEHEEHEE-HEEEEESHRIEKAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAA!”. Debbie giggled and squirmed, bouncing up and down on the bed. He softly tickled the tips of her toes and then gently ran his fingers between each toe. “EEEEEYAHAHAHAHAHAAASHRIEK! EEEEE-HEEHEEHEEHEEHEESQUEAALLLAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAA!”. Debbie
smiled broadly, giggled, squeaked and squirmed. Her blushing body began to sweat, and she began to get wet somewhere else as well, for she began to enjoy the ticklish sensations coming from her feet. They made her shriek with laughter, yet at the same time it felt really good too.
“Such pretty feet, I bet they are tasty too!” said J.D., smiling wickedly as he began to use his tongue on Debbie’s bare feet. He licked her arches slowly and softly. Debbie howled with laughter, bouncing on the bed again. His tongue tickled her feet worse than his fingers did, and she loved it even more. J.D. circled the balls of her feet with his tongue, then licked her toe pads-sawing his tongue between each toe as he went-enjoying the salty taste of her foot sweat. Debbie threw back her head in another fit of ticklish laughter. “AAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAASQUEEEAAALLLSHRIEK!
AAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAA!”. He lazily licked up and down her naked soles and toes as if he were licking an ice cream cone, nibbling her soles and arches as he went, throwing Debbie into another fit of giggles. “EEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEE-HEEYAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAA!”. Thoroughly lubricating her feet with his saliva, J.D. went back to tickling her soles with his fingers. “SQUEEEAAAAALLLL!
AAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! SHRIEK! HEEHEEHEEHEEHEEYAAAAAAA-
HAHAHAHAHAHAAA! AH! AH! AH! I’MCUMMING! EEEHEEHEEHEEHEE-
AAAHAHAHA-HAHAHAAA!”. Did he hear what she’d just said correctly?
J.D. let go of her to let her catch her breath and she hugged him and kissed him hard, panting and gasping. “OH -J.D.-PANT-ITFELTSOGOOD-GASP-TICKLEFELT-SOGOOD-SOOOGOOD-I-I-CAME-GASP-I-CAME-PANT-I-CAMEINMYPANTS! PLEASEFUCKME-FUCK-AND TICKLEMYFEETPLEASE-GASP-PLEASE-TICKLEMYFEETANDFUCK-PANT-FUCKMEANDTICKLEMYFEETPLEASE!
PLEASE!”.
“You said please again, Debbie!” J.D. smiled and immediately got hard as Debbie panted and giggled. He peeled off her shorts and come-soaked panties. Pulling off his cutoffs and underwear, he lay on his back on the bed and put Debbie astride him, riding his dick. He easily reached down to tickle Debbie’s bare soles facing up on the bed. Once again, Debbie began to giggle and sweat, bucking on his dick. “AAAHAHAHAHAHAHAAA! CUMMAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAAA!”. Her climax came swiftly this time. J.D. rolled Debbie on to her back, placed her heels on his shoulders and slid his dick into her as he began to lick her bare feet. “EEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEESHRIIEEK! EEEHEEHEEHEEHEESQUEEEAAAL! AAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA!”. His tongue licking her feet felt so good, but it made Debbie squeal with laughter from the intense tickling sensations.“WAAHAHAHA-EEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAI’MCUMMING!
AAAHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEYAHAHAHAHAHAAA!”. Debbie came again as J.D. groaned and spewed his sperm into her drooling pussy.
Debbie and J.D. hold each other close on the bed, breathing heavily as they exchange sloppy, drooling tongue kisses. “I love you J.D.!” says Debbie, panting. Tears glisten in her eyes, but she has a radiant smile. “I love you too Debbie!” he says back, his evil grin has been replaced with a happy smile and his face actually looks truly angelic now. More kisses and caresses. Debbie runs her bare right foot down J.D.’s leg. Still kissing Debbie, he pulls her right leg up and tickles her foot, enjoying her muffled giggles.
“MMMWUFHMM-HMMWAHAHAHMMWUFAHAHAMWAAHAHAHM-HMM!”
Now hard again, he puts Debbie on her knees and slides into her sopping pussy from behind. Reaching around with his left hand, he tickles her clit as his right reaches down to again caress her bare right sole facing up on the bed. “YAAAHAHAHAHAHAHA! SQUEAAAL! EEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEESQUEEEALLLAAAHAHAHAHA-YAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAA!”. J.D. then switches hands, tickling her left foot with his left hand as his right circles her clit. “HEEHEEHEEHEESQUEEEALLLL! CUMMINGAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAA!”. Debbie climaxes again as J.D. once more grunts and spurts more of his semen into her. They both collapse on the bed, weak from their lovemaking, and holding each other close, kiss again. Members of many corps, not just Los Muchachos, would puzzle over the laughter coming from J.D.’s room that night long after they had aged out.
J.D. and Debbie walk from the dorm hand-in-hand as the assistant corps director approaches. “You got mail, J.D.!”. It was a post card from his ex-girlfriend. They read it together. She said she had made a mistake, was very sorry, and wanted to get back together. J.D. and Debbie looked at each other, then both burst into laughter as J.D. tears the card to pieces and throws it into a nearby wastebasket.
The scores in the preliminaries had Los Muchachos in second place behind the Purple Demons with the Eleventh Troopers in third, and a mere one tenth of a point either way would decide the champion amongst the top three. Eleven of the top twelve corps had performed in the finals and Los Muchachos was last on to perform. The announcer said “From Northfield, New Jersey, LOS MUCHACHOS!” to thundering applause from the crowd. Out they came to “Espiritu del Toro” alternately roaring and whispering, their marching matching the tone of the music as they wove their magic with the drill and music and the crowd responded enthusiastically. They halted for several seconds, waiting, building excitement for their finale. The seconds of silence ticked off as the drum major began a high mark-time, “PLATOON, MARCH! ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR!”. The musical prelude to their finale was solemn and low. As J.D. marched to his position, he snapped his soprano bugle to his lips, tilted his horn up toward the crowd, and played.
J.D. had the fans on their feet screaming as he played his solo. The first mournful notes of “Matador” floated from his horn across the night as the rest of the brass section answered it in thunderous response. He had endured so much to play this final solo, and now he put every one of the painful feelings he had experienced into it as he played to the crowd. The sad, haunting melody coming from his horn was not just notes written on a sheet of music, but it came from his heart as well, moving many of the crowd to tears. And as he played, he felt release from it as all the heartache and suffering of the season drained from his soul. A rolling, rumbling drumbreak shattered the night and the corps came roaring into the sidelines to the end of their finale, “Pictures de Espana”, as the fans cheered them on. J.D. lifted his horn to the sky to play the final solo, “Call To The Bulls” as they halted on the sideline to end the show, his last note a sustained high-octave, screaming “A-flat”, bringing the house down. At last, Los Muchachos claimed the trophy so long denied them, coming from behind to edge the Purple Demons, who took second. Almost as satisfying for them was that a New York corps, the Silver Lancers, surged at the right time to slip into third place and knock the Eleventh Troopers out of medal competition.
Debbie ran squealing with delight to J.D. after retreat, hugging and kissing him. The flags and rifles of Los Muchachos had taken top honors for guard and J.D. himself took the trophy for best Soprano Bugle performance. “Welcome to Los Muchachos, J.D.!”
Surprised and puzzled, J.D. turned around. It was George Metrunzio, the drum major. Smiling, George said “I can’t say welcome rookie, because you aren’t-not anymore. I welcome you.” He extended his hand. J.D. took it and smiled. His arm around Debbie, other members of Los Muchachos came forward to welcome him finally, and shake his hand. He was a champion, and had found acceptance-and love-at last!
Epilogue:
J.D. and Debbie Zimmerman sat in the stands, smiling as they watched their son Bobby in his rookie year with Los Muchachos claim his first DCUS Gold medal, one of three-in-a-row he would win in his time with the corps before he aged out. Turning to Debbie, J.D. whispered in her ear, “And to think that he’s out there all because your feet are ticklish!”. He reached down and caressed the arch of one of her sandal-clad, stockingless feet and Debbie giggled, cuddling close to him. “You keep that up, and I’ll be pregnant again, Mr. Zimmerman!” she said, smiling back at him. They had another son and a daughter, also conceived as a result of Debbie’s ticklish feet that would carry on the drum corps tradition once they were old enough. J.D. and Debbie had two gold medals from their old corps eight championships-won in split seasons-and now Bobby added another. Under his corps uniform that night, Bobby wore one of each of his parent’s gold medals. As the corps began its finale, a familiar soft, solemn prelude drifted across the hot August night air. J.D. and Debbie held hands tightly and tears ran streaming from both parents’ eyes as Bobby marched, turned directly to them in the stands, and played his solo, the same one that had once been his father’s and had brought his parents together: “Matador”.
IN LOVING MEMORY OF THE HAWTHORNE, NJ MUCHACHOS, AND AUBURN, NY PURPLE LANCERS DRUM AND BUGLE CORPS
