trainerjoey
Registered User
- Joined
- Aug 10, 2017
- Messages
- 47
- Points
- 6
Brad and I were on a local baseball team. That day Brad was on fire; he scored two runs, and it was glorious seeing him run from base to base with the audience cheering and the sunshine on his handsome face. After the game, we went to his house to relax.
Brad was tired, and he wanted to take a nap. He went to his room, and I stayed in the living room playing video games. After about an hour, I went to check on Brad to see if he was still asleep. I cracked open his bedroom door just enough to peer in, and sure enough, not only was he still asleep, but he was still in his baseball uniform! He must have just collapsed, prone, onto his bed, without bothering to even remove his cleats!
Suddenly, I got an idea. I snuck into the room, shutting the door silently behind me. I pulled up a chair at the foot of the bed. Brad was tall, and his feet hung over the end of the bed. Very very carefully and gently, I unlaced his size 10 cleats, and then, in almost imperceptible increments, so as not to wake him, I removed them, exposing his socked feet. His socks were sweaty, and they clung to the shape of his feet.
Brad was still snoring gently; very, very gently, I began to tug at his right sock. I peeled it off very, very slowly, first exposing his heel, then his arch, and finally his toes as the sock came off. I did the same with the other sock. His feet were now bare.
I took a minute to gaze at his soft bare feet; his smooth heels, his well-defined arches, his cute toes; I admit I was enamoured with those feet.
Then, ever so slowly, I gently traced my index finger along the sole of his right foot, from heel to toes. When I did so, he curled his toes and made a funny sound. I froze in fear that he had woken up. But he resumed his ordinary snoring cadence, and I smiled wickedly. I did the same with his left foot, and it wiggled a bit, with more flexion of the toes. This was great fun! I continued this game of lightly dragging my fingers along the soles of his feet, and watching them curl and flex while Brad still slept. How cool was this!
I noticed an indian "dreamcatcher" pinned above his bed, with two sturdy turkey feathers hanging from it. I crept to it, and plucked both feathers from it. I took my seat at the foot of the bed, wielding a feather in each hand. I slowly dragged the feathers along his soles, from heels to toes. It almost seemed to me when I did this, that Brad emitted a slight giggle. I looked up to his handsome, sleeping face, observing the ghost of a smile on it. I began to continuously drag the feather tips up and down along the soles of his feet in long, lazy vertical strokes. I enjoyed immensely watching his big feet flex and wiggle, and hearing Brad make funny noises in his sleep. I glided the feathers between his toes in long, slow, deliberate sawing motions. His shapely toes wriggled lazingly in response to the feathers ministrations, and at one point, Brad clenched his toes, inadvertently grabbing the feathers with his toes. I had to wait a minute for his toes to uncurl and drop the feathers. But suddenly Brad made a noise that suggested to me that he was waking up. I froze in terror, dropping the feathers, and I crept out of his bedroom as quick as a bunny.
About fifteen minutes later, a still sleepy Brad walked into the living room barefoot. He wondered aloud how he didn't remember taking off his shoes and socks, and how the feathers from his dreamcatcher came to be lying at the foot of his bed.
I just smiled innocently.
Brad was tired, and he wanted to take a nap. He went to his room, and I stayed in the living room playing video games. After about an hour, I went to check on Brad to see if he was still asleep. I cracked open his bedroom door just enough to peer in, and sure enough, not only was he still asleep, but he was still in his baseball uniform! He must have just collapsed, prone, onto his bed, without bothering to even remove his cleats!
Suddenly, I got an idea. I snuck into the room, shutting the door silently behind me. I pulled up a chair at the foot of the bed. Brad was tall, and his feet hung over the end of the bed. Very very carefully and gently, I unlaced his size 10 cleats, and then, in almost imperceptible increments, so as not to wake him, I removed them, exposing his socked feet. His socks were sweaty, and they clung to the shape of his feet.
Brad was still snoring gently; very, very gently, I began to tug at his right sock. I peeled it off very, very slowly, first exposing his heel, then his arch, and finally his toes as the sock came off. I did the same with the other sock. His feet were now bare.
I took a minute to gaze at his soft bare feet; his smooth heels, his well-defined arches, his cute toes; I admit I was enamoured with those feet.
Then, ever so slowly, I gently traced my index finger along the sole of his right foot, from heel to toes. When I did so, he curled his toes and made a funny sound. I froze in fear that he had woken up. But he resumed his ordinary snoring cadence, and I smiled wickedly. I did the same with his left foot, and it wiggled a bit, with more flexion of the toes. This was great fun! I continued this game of lightly dragging my fingers along the soles of his feet, and watching them curl and flex while Brad still slept. How cool was this!
I noticed an indian "dreamcatcher" pinned above his bed, with two sturdy turkey feathers hanging from it. I crept to it, and plucked both feathers from it. I took my seat at the foot of the bed, wielding a feather in each hand. I slowly dragged the feathers along his soles, from heels to toes. It almost seemed to me when I did this, that Brad emitted a slight giggle. I looked up to his handsome, sleeping face, observing the ghost of a smile on it. I began to continuously drag the feather tips up and down along the soles of his feet in long, lazy vertical strokes. I enjoyed immensely watching his big feet flex and wiggle, and hearing Brad make funny noises in his sleep. I glided the feathers between his toes in long, slow, deliberate sawing motions. His shapely toes wriggled lazingly in response to the feathers ministrations, and at one point, Brad clenched his toes, inadvertently grabbing the feathers with his toes. I had to wait a minute for his toes to uncurl and drop the feathers. But suddenly Brad made a noise that suggested to me that he was waking up. I froze in terror, dropping the feathers, and I crept out of his bedroom as quick as a bunny.
About fifteen minutes later, a still sleepy Brad walked into the living room barefoot. He wondered aloud how he didn't remember taking off his shoes and socks, and how the feathers from his dreamcatcher came to be lying at the foot of his bed.
I just smiled innocently.
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