(It is assumed that both characters are 18 and seniors in school. 
)
In high school, I was always a thespian. I auditioned for the musical every year and the spring play, and I always got a major role for my enthusiasm and talent. It put me in a position that many guys only wished they could be in, given that there was always alot of costume changing in the rehearsal rooms, and there were often some very provocative outifts going on and coming off.
In my last year of high school, I got the lead romantic role in Les Miserables, as Marius. The girl who played Eponine made my heart explode. When I found out, I pretty much couldn't stop smiling.
Her name was Amanda. She was about the most sexy, athletic girl in the school. Though she spent most of her time in the gym or taking some type of physical education course, she devoted her free time to the theatrical department. She was about 5'7", 125 pounds soaking wet, and absolutely amazing figure. She was sculpted, almost no body fat at all. Her long brown hair was often kept up in a tight, librarian bun. She needed no makeup yet put on a bit of base anyway. Her blue eyes sparkled even when she was in the worst of moods. And did she ever have a voice on her! She was a shoe in for the part.
She usually dressed casually, jeans, sneakers and a form-fitting T shirt most often, but sometimes she would get dolled up and put on a skirt and a nice blouse and heels. Of course, I would always notice that when she was in Chorus class, she’d slip off her shoes for comfort. Naturally, this distracted me. I would get odd looks from the teacher during the singing portions of the class, wondering why I seemed so distracted. It didn’t affect my performance in class but damned if it didn’t make me forget some of the lines!
Some days were worse than others. Her well-kept bare feet were distracting enough, but some days she would wear thin ankle socks under her sneakers, the ones with the pink toes and heels. I thought those were adorable and sexy all at the same time, and it just killed me. Then came the few rare occasions that she would wear stockings under her skirt. The nude were awful for me, but the white and black ones she’d wear just made me want to jump her there and then.
I was able to keep my urges hidden for the majority of the rehearsal period. Often I would go to her place or she would come to mine to rehearse out solo bits, but we were strictly business. We would joke around every now and then but nothing serious had ever come of it. We were going to blow away the crowd, and nothing would stop us from being the best we could be.
One day in class, abut a week out of opening curtain, I was certain that we weren’t going to get any better. We had rehearsed so hard and for so long, I felt like a Broadway actor. The timings were perfect, the pitches and tunes were dead on, and we were blocked and ready to go. Amanda, didn’t feel the same way, and insisted we practice in the aptly named “Practice Room,” a small, soundproof room with a non-windowed door in the back of the classroom...total privacy. Mr. Conahan said it was ok, knowing we only were going in to rehearse, so we went in and shut the door. She sat down and flicked off her sneakers, showing off her white and pink ankle socks.
She sat cross-legged on the chair and I sat on the floor in front of her, and we began. The forty two minutes period was half over and I got tired of waiting. I’d never get an opportunity like this again.
“Good God, what are you doing, ‘Ponine, have you no fear?...” As I sang the opening lines of our duet, I pulled her legs out from under her, making her slip onto her butt on the chair. She planted her feet on the floor and looked at me with confusion, but didn’t stop me. She was probably trying to figure out what I was doing. We had become very close over the past few months and we trusted each other completely.
I grabbed a sash from one of the costumes in the room that were being stored there. I wrapped it around her left ankle and tied it tightly to the leg of the chair, then got another sash and did the same to her right leg. She watched me intently, and started to grin, but didn’t miss a beat when it was her turn to pick up the song.
“Took the letter, like you said, I met her father at the door…” she sang. “….he said he would give it, I don’t think I can SNNNRRRRRK!!” she snorted. I had tickled along the outer edge of her socked foot as she was singing, and she laugh-snorted harshly. She fell into giggles as I traced my fingertip along the side of her foot, scratching through her sock gently. I stopped after a moment.
She didn’t yell at me, and she didn’t look angry at all. She smiled and kept singing. I picked up in my line and started tickling the side of her other foot too, tickling both as I went through my lines. She giggled madly and squealed as I sang to her, blushing furiously. On her next line, she lifted her feet up off the rug, intentionally exposing her socked soles to my fingertips. She began her next line as my fingertips began to glide under her toes and arches, and I found out just how ticklish her feet were.
She got out only two notes, and her mouth burst with wild giggles and sweet laughs. Her toes wiggled cutely in her socks and she never tried to get away, allowing me to tickle her socked feet as I wished. She gave up on singing, holding on to her chair and squealing happily. After a few minutes she did ask me to stop, begging me to let her catch her breath. I obeyed and she gasped, smiling. “Wow, no one’s tickled me on my feet before…that feels really good!” she said, and I beamed. “Do you think they might be more ticklish if you take off my socks?”
Needless to say, her socks were off very quickly. I immediately began to stroke her soft, buttery bare arches with my fingertips and her eyes shot open. She almost screamed out in ticklishness, pulling upwards on the makeshift restraints but never trying to stop me. I stroked her toes, heels, the balls of her feet, and all over the tops, and for fifteen minutes she laughed, giggled, and tittered.
Finally, my watch alarm went off. I looked and it was almost time to go to the next class. She asked me to untie her ankles and give her her socks back. I untied her and grabbed her socks. “Only if I can put them on you,” I said. She giggled and put her feet out for me. I grinned, and lightly tickled her toes once more before putting her socks on. Even the motion of putting them on her feet tickled her and she giggled joyfully.
As we collected everything and got ready to leave, she looked at me with an almost seductive glance. “My parents went out for the week on a business trip…you wanna come over to my house tonight to…um…rehearse…tonight?” Her cheeks were bright red and she was smiling sexily.
“Depends…can I bring some of those?” I pointed to the sashes that we left on the floor.
Amanda nodded.
)In high school, I was always a thespian. I auditioned for the musical every year and the spring play, and I always got a major role for my enthusiasm and talent. It put me in a position that many guys only wished they could be in, given that there was always alot of costume changing in the rehearsal rooms, and there were often some very provocative outifts going on and coming off.
In my last year of high school, I got the lead romantic role in Les Miserables, as Marius. The girl who played Eponine made my heart explode. When I found out, I pretty much couldn't stop smiling.
Her name was Amanda. She was about the most sexy, athletic girl in the school. Though she spent most of her time in the gym or taking some type of physical education course, she devoted her free time to the theatrical department. She was about 5'7", 125 pounds soaking wet, and absolutely amazing figure. She was sculpted, almost no body fat at all. Her long brown hair was often kept up in a tight, librarian bun. She needed no makeup yet put on a bit of base anyway. Her blue eyes sparkled even when she was in the worst of moods. And did she ever have a voice on her! She was a shoe in for the part.
She usually dressed casually, jeans, sneakers and a form-fitting T shirt most often, but sometimes she would get dolled up and put on a skirt and a nice blouse and heels. Of course, I would always notice that when she was in Chorus class, she’d slip off her shoes for comfort. Naturally, this distracted me. I would get odd looks from the teacher during the singing portions of the class, wondering why I seemed so distracted. It didn’t affect my performance in class but damned if it didn’t make me forget some of the lines!
Some days were worse than others. Her well-kept bare feet were distracting enough, but some days she would wear thin ankle socks under her sneakers, the ones with the pink toes and heels. I thought those were adorable and sexy all at the same time, and it just killed me. Then came the few rare occasions that she would wear stockings under her skirt. The nude were awful for me, but the white and black ones she’d wear just made me want to jump her there and then.
I was able to keep my urges hidden for the majority of the rehearsal period. Often I would go to her place or she would come to mine to rehearse out solo bits, but we were strictly business. We would joke around every now and then but nothing serious had ever come of it. We were going to blow away the crowd, and nothing would stop us from being the best we could be.
One day in class, abut a week out of opening curtain, I was certain that we weren’t going to get any better. We had rehearsed so hard and for so long, I felt like a Broadway actor. The timings were perfect, the pitches and tunes were dead on, and we were blocked and ready to go. Amanda, didn’t feel the same way, and insisted we practice in the aptly named “Practice Room,” a small, soundproof room with a non-windowed door in the back of the classroom...total privacy. Mr. Conahan said it was ok, knowing we only were going in to rehearse, so we went in and shut the door. She sat down and flicked off her sneakers, showing off her white and pink ankle socks.
She sat cross-legged on the chair and I sat on the floor in front of her, and we began. The forty two minutes period was half over and I got tired of waiting. I’d never get an opportunity like this again.
“Good God, what are you doing, ‘Ponine, have you no fear?...” As I sang the opening lines of our duet, I pulled her legs out from under her, making her slip onto her butt on the chair. She planted her feet on the floor and looked at me with confusion, but didn’t stop me. She was probably trying to figure out what I was doing. We had become very close over the past few months and we trusted each other completely.
I grabbed a sash from one of the costumes in the room that were being stored there. I wrapped it around her left ankle and tied it tightly to the leg of the chair, then got another sash and did the same to her right leg. She watched me intently, and started to grin, but didn’t miss a beat when it was her turn to pick up the song.
“Took the letter, like you said, I met her father at the door…” she sang. “….he said he would give it, I don’t think I can SNNNRRRRRK!!” she snorted. I had tickled along the outer edge of her socked foot as she was singing, and she laugh-snorted harshly. She fell into giggles as I traced my fingertip along the side of her foot, scratching through her sock gently. I stopped after a moment.
She didn’t yell at me, and she didn’t look angry at all. She smiled and kept singing. I picked up in my line and started tickling the side of her other foot too, tickling both as I went through my lines. She giggled madly and squealed as I sang to her, blushing furiously. On her next line, she lifted her feet up off the rug, intentionally exposing her socked soles to my fingertips. She began her next line as my fingertips began to glide under her toes and arches, and I found out just how ticklish her feet were.
She got out only two notes, and her mouth burst with wild giggles and sweet laughs. Her toes wiggled cutely in her socks and she never tried to get away, allowing me to tickle her socked feet as I wished. She gave up on singing, holding on to her chair and squealing happily. After a few minutes she did ask me to stop, begging me to let her catch her breath. I obeyed and she gasped, smiling. “Wow, no one’s tickled me on my feet before…that feels really good!” she said, and I beamed. “Do you think they might be more ticklish if you take off my socks?”
Needless to say, her socks were off very quickly. I immediately began to stroke her soft, buttery bare arches with my fingertips and her eyes shot open. She almost screamed out in ticklishness, pulling upwards on the makeshift restraints but never trying to stop me. I stroked her toes, heels, the balls of her feet, and all over the tops, and for fifteen minutes she laughed, giggled, and tittered.
Finally, my watch alarm went off. I looked and it was almost time to go to the next class. She asked me to untie her ankles and give her her socks back. I untied her and grabbed her socks. “Only if I can put them on you,” I said. She giggled and put her feet out for me. I grinned, and lightly tickled her toes once more before putting her socks on. Even the motion of putting them on her feet tickled her and she giggled joyfully.
As we collected everything and got ready to leave, she looked at me with an almost seductive glance. “My parents went out for the week on a business trip…you wanna come over to my house tonight to…um…rehearse…tonight?” Her cheeks were bright red and she was smiling sexily.
“Depends…can I bring some of those?” I pointed to the sashes that we left on the floor.
Amanda nodded.
