Bad News
It is a wonder how cyclical life can be. I look at my post history and I see my last story was nearly 8 years ago. I, as I am sure all of you, have lived so much life in the interim. I once resolved to post every true story I could manage on here, every poke and caress was to be documented here. Life got in the way, so much has happened and there are plenty of stories to tell but I think I will be stuck for a while, maybe forever. I have started to write a story at least a dozen times but I have always wandered away from it. In that time another story happened so similar to the aforementioned that I feel I can tell them better together. I am a bit inspired from Stephen King’s The Wind Through the Keyhole to do a story in a story and the reason is like Merlin’s, for both the action and the tale, “I was drunk”.
There is a certain joy about old game shows. They, by necessity, will always be divorced from your problems and there is no pressure; Gene Rayburn always has jocular rhythm and Charles Nelson Reilly always winks at us to let us know we are along for the ride. I think it may be best to get bad news while an old game show is on. That happened to me a night a few years back. Too many drinks and too much Match Game had my brother and I in great humor. We so rarely hung out anymore, our lives rapidly spun further away, but this was a good night. I missed my call but he got his and so we got the news together, we had lost another family member. Our favorite aunt this time.
This was a rather strong hit, at least for me. I was always so sensitive and my brother so hard. We briefly recounted our favorite memories, a Christmas for him and a birthday for me. The suddenness of the news probably weighed heavier on him then he would ever admit, but he did not have to, we had been in this position before. A few years back we had suffered the loss of a cousin, murdered in cold blood. I broached the subject with him to see if he would unburden his thoughts. The mention of my cousin brought a wry smile to his face. He said he remembered the night we learned about her death well, and he gave me a punch in the arm and a wink, he said I probably remembered it better than he did. I know I did. What did he know?
I asked him what he meant and he mentioned a girl that I had not thought about in….days. Tiffany. Well, we all called her Tiff. A wonderfully plain girl, not unattractive at all, long hair, a pleasant figure, tanned skin, and to be blunt: she was easy. She casually made her way through our friend group at the time, frankly I was not terribly interested but we were friendly and flirty. It was not uncommon to have all our friends over almost nightly and Tiff was always there. With no false modesty I was in good shape then, my workout regimen had given me fantastic muscles and I did indeed love showing them off. Tiff always liked to feel a bicep or have me lift her above my head, silly things like that. One night I did feel her up as she grabbed my biceps, it was a little awkward. Here is a brief aside: Boobs are not my bag. I am into tickling and feet so to feel a girl up to keep up appearances was a little different for me, now I know you are thinking “don’t get handsy in front of everyone then!” and you are right but we were young and drunk, a simpler time.
So my muscles were old news and Tiff had moved on to the next guy (I am sure he knew what to do with boobs, I mean I do NOW but anyway...) and life carried on. The night we learned about our cousin being murdered was otherwise normal. The bad news killed the mood and friends expressed their condolences and moved on, I would have done the same thing, and frankly I would have wanted to be alone anyway. I do not want to get to into the details of my cousin’s death but I will add a quick note her killer has been brought to justice. So back to that night; I was shaken and went to my room. I could not help but google my cousin’s name and read the story about her body being discovered. It was an emotional jackhammer that almost fell me from my chair, I was so close to an open display of sobs and cries but then my door opened.
Tiff and my brother entered my room and I wiped the tears from my eyes. I explained the news story I had found and I could tell the jackhammer did to my brother what it had done to me. His resolve crumbled under the force of it and he literally fled in tears. I had never seen him like this before, or since. Tiff walked over to me and rubbed my broad shoulders and expressed her deepest sympathies. I stood up and grabbed her firmly on her waist and buttocks, we kissed deeply, passionately but it did lack a certain type of intimacy; we were actors in a sad movie. I lifted her towards me, our lips still locked, her hands firmly on my neck and back. I walked us over to my bed and released her. Her ample bosom heaved with anticipation, her eyes locked into mine. I lifted her leg and flicked off her flip-flop and asked “Is this OK?” she nodded eagerly.
I had often fantasized about her feet, she rarely showed them off, they were often clad in some type of sneaker. I finally had her sole so close and it was wonderful. I would guess she was about a size 8, not a deep arch and cute rounded toes. I took a moment and kissed her foot, to my great excitement she kicked off her other flip-flop and moved her foot towards me, I kissed and licked but I tickled too, a lot….too much. I held her in a strong grip and racked her soles with my fingers, her laughter was so sweet and sudden. I heard her ask “what are you doing?” through her gales of laughter but I did not have my wits about me to answer. I rolled her over and pinned her ankles beneath me and tormented her soles savagely. She finally said “okay, enough” and I stopped. She was so flushed and confused. Honestly, it was hot. She saw my obvious...enjoyment and called me a freak. Now I am not sure if she was serious or flirty because she sounded fine and to this day we remain friendly. Still, she left quickly. I decided to go to bed. Alone.
So what did my brother know? He said that Tiff told him we made out and, get ready for this, she offered me oral sex. Well of course that did not happen but it made me smile, I copped to it for my brother’s benefit. I made us another drink, enjoying the old memories freshly stirred when there was a knock at the door. No, it was not Tiff but another close female friend of ours, her name was Ashleigh and my brother’s less than sober state and emotional vulnerability resulted in a text to her. We all shared a drink but soon my brother was passed out and Ashleigh and I were alone in the kitchen.
Ashleigh was a tall redhead, porcelain skin, and most importantly size ten feet with amazing toes. I had seen her feet a few times and I was interested in getting my hands on them. I had counted that as an idle fancy though, but I was a little emboldened by drink. I resolved if an opportunity arouse I would take it. Well, maybe I would make it.
As we talked she made a comment about basketball and I mentioned my hands were large enough to palm a basketball, she demanded to see my hands and I obliged. As she held my right she admitted they were impressive to which I said, well yours are nice as well, I like the nail polish and…..and, can you guess what I asked next? Do the toes match? Ashleigh eagerly removed her boot and sock and showed me that they did indeed match. I was incredulous and went in for a closer inspection. I gently held her foot, her toes resting easily in my left palm while my right held her soft heel. I pointed out that one toe was a little off and ran my hand gently down her sole back to her heel. She giggled and informed me she was ticklish, well, I already had her toes, so I held them taught and tickled her sole. She jumped a bit and laughed a lot. It was nice. I asked to see the other foot as well, but she called me out right there. I have mentioned in the past that my foot fetish is a bit of an open secret and she asked me bluntly if I had one. I said I did and apologized, she said it was okay and was even about to remove her other boot but I stopped her. I was venturing into territory that I knew I would regret. She understood and gave me a little kiss on the cheek. I decided to head up stairs and go to bed. Alone.
I think about Tiff and Ashleigh from time to time, I think about the bad news from time to time, but I look towards the future almost all the time. I have no shame or regret and I will treasure those memories but I am glad that is all they are. Not once in the years since has either mentioned either incident and for that I am grateful. I wish I had the wherewithal to tell more stories but I suspect it will be about another eight years before I do. Thank you all for the read.
It is a wonder how cyclical life can be. I look at my post history and I see my last story was nearly 8 years ago. I, as I am sure all of you, have lived so much life in the interim. I once resolved to post every true story I could manage on here, every poke and caress was to be documented here. Life got in the way, so much has happened and there are plenty of stories to tell but I think I will be stuck for a while, maybe forever. I have started to write a story at least a dozen times but I have always wandered away from it. In that time another story happened so similar to the aforementioned that I feel I can tell them better together. I am a bit inspired from Stephen King’s The Wind Through the Keyhole to do a story in a story and the reason is like Merlin’s, for both the action and the tale, “I was drunk”.
There is a certain joy about old game shows. They, by necessity, will always be divorced from your problems and there is no pressure; Gene Rayburn always has jocular rhythm and Charles Nelson Reilly always winks at us to let us know we are along for the ride. I think it may be best to get bad news while an old game show is on. That happened to me a night a few years back. Too many drinks and too much Match Game had my brother and I in great humor. We so rarely hung out anymore, our lives rapidly spun further away, but this was a good night. I missed my call but he got his and so we got the news together, we had lost another family member. Our favorite aunt this time.
This was a rather strong hit, at least for me. I was always so sensitive and my brother so hard. We briefly recounted our favorite memories, a Christmas for him and a birthday for me. The suddenness of the news probably weighed heavier on him then he would ever admit, but he did not have to, we had been in this position before. A few years back we had suffered the loss of a cousin, murdered in cold blood. I broached the subject with him to see if he would unburden his thoughts. The mention of my cousin brought a wry smile to his face. He said he remembered the night we learned about her death well, and he gave me a punch in the arm and a wink, he said I probably remembered it better than he did. I know I did. What did he know?
I asked him what he meant and he mentioned a girl that I had not thought about in….days. Tiffany. Well, we all called her Tiff. A wonderfully plain girl, not unattractive at all, long hair, a pleasant figure, tanned skin, and to be blunt: she was easy. She casually made her way through our friend group at the time, frankly I was not terribly interested but we were friendly and flirty. It was not uncommon to have all our friends over almost nightly and Tiff was always there. With no false modesty I was in good shape then, my workout regimen had given me fantastic muscles and I did indeed love showing them off. Tiff always liked to feel a bicep or have me lift her above my head, silly things like that. One night I did feel her up as she grabbed my biceps, it was a little awkward. Here is a brief aside: Boobs are not my bag. I am into tickling and feet so to feel a girl up to keep up appearances was a little different for me, now I know you are thinking “don’t get handsy in front of everyone then!” and you are right but we were young and drunk, a simpler time.
So my muscles were old news and Tiff had moved on to the next guy (I am sure he knew what to do with boobs, I mean I do NOW but anyway...) and life carried on. The night we learned about our cousin being murdered was otherwise normal. The bad news killed the mood and friends expressed their condolences and moved on, I would have done the same thing, and frankly I would have wanted to be alone anyway. I do not want to get to into the details of my cousin’s death but I will add a quick note her killer has been brought to justice. So back to that night; I was shaken and went to my room. I could not help but google my cousin’s name and read the story about her body being discovered. It was an emotional jackhammer that almost fell me from my chair, I was so close to an open display of sobs and cries but then my door opened.
Tiff and my brother entered my room and I wiped the tears from my eyes. I explained the news story I had found and I could tell the jackhammer did to my brother what it had done to me. His resolve crumbled under the force of it and he literally fled in tears. I had never seen him like this before, or since. Tiff walked over to me and rubbed my broad shoulders and expressed her deepest sympathies. I stood up and grabbed her firmly on her waist and buttocks, we kissed deeply, passionately but it did lack a certain type of intimacy; we were actors in a sad movie. I lifted her towards me, our lips still locked, her hands firmly on my neck and back. I walked us over to my bed and released her. Her ample bosom heaved with anticipation, her eyes locked into mine. I lifted her leg and flicked off her flip-flop and asked “Is this OK?” she nodded eagerly.
I had often fantasized about her feet, she rarely showed them off, they were often clad in some type of sneaker. I finally had her sole so close and it was wonderful. I would guess she was about a size 8, not a deep arch and cute rounded toes. I took a moment and kissed her foot, to my great excitement she kicked off her other flip-flop and moved her foot towards me, I kissed and licked but I tickled too, a lot….too much. I held her in a strong grip and racked her soles with my fingers, her laughter was so sweet and sudden. I heard her ask “what are you doing?” through her gales of laughter but I did not have my wits about me to answer. I rolled her over and pinned her ankles beneath me and tormented her soles savagely. She finally said “okay, enough” and I stopped. She was so flushed and confused. Honestly, it was hot. She saw my obvious...enjoyment and called me a freak. Now I am not sure if she was serious or flirty because she sounded fine and to this day we remain friendly. Still, she left quickly. I decided to go to bed. Alone.
So what did my brother know? He said that Tiff told him we made out and, get ready for this, she offered me oral sex. Well of course that did not happen but it made me smile, I copped to it for my brother’s benefit. I made us another drink, enjoying the old memories freshly stirred when there was a knock at the door. No, it was not Tiff but another close female friend of ours, her name was Ashleigh and my brother’s less than sober state and emotional vulnerability resulted in a text to her. We all shared a drink but soon my brother was passed out and Ashleigh and I were alone in the kitchen.
Ashleigh was a tall redhead, porcelain skin, and most importantly size ten feet with amazing toes. I had seen her feet a few times and I was interested in getting my hands on them. I had counted that as an idle fancy though, but I was a little emboldened by drink. I resolved if an opportunity arouse I would take it. Well, maybe I would make it.
As we talked she made a comment about basketball and I mentioned my hands were large enough to palm a basketball, she demanded to see my hands and I obliged. As she held my right she admitted they were impressive to which I said, well yours are nice as well, I like the nail polish and…..and, can you guess what I asked next? Do the toes match? Ashleigh eagerly removed her boot and sock and showed me that they did indeed match. I was incredulous and went in for a closer inspection. I gently held her foot, her toes resting easily in my left palm while my right held her soft heel. I pointed out that one toe was a little off and ran my hand gently down her sole back to her heel. She giggled and informed me she was ticklish, well, I already had her toes, so I held them taught and tickled her sole. She jumped a bit and laughed a lot. It was nice. I asked to see the other foot as well, but she called me out right there. I have mentioned in the past that my foot fetish is a bit of an open secret and she asked me bluntly if I had one. I said I did and apologized, she said it was okay and was even about to remove her other boot but I stopped her. I was venturing into territory that I knew I would regret. She understood and gave me a little kiss on the cheek. I decided to head up stairs and go to bed. Alone.
I think about Tiff and Ashleigh from time to time, I think about the bad news from time to time, but I look towards the future almost all the time. I have no shame or regret and I will treasure those memories but I am glad that is all they are. Not once in the years since has either mentioned either incident and for that I am grateful. I wish I had the wherewithal to tell more stories but I suspect it will be about another eight years before I do. Thank you all for the read.
