Date: Thu, 6 Jan 2005 21:56:03 EST From: Jonah Subject: Boyfeet in the Gym The story which follows is a work of fiction. If any character bears a resemblance to any real person, living or dead, it is entirely coincidental. Some scenes in this story are fairly explicit and involve male - male relationships which some may find offensive. If this is the case or if it is not legal for you to read such material, please leave now. Otherwise please enjoy the story. Nobody knew. Perhaps that was not quite true. Some of the other staff might have suspected. Some of the boys even suspected. No. Let's be honest; some of the boys obviously knew for certain. Nobody should have known. It was dangerous. How could he possibly have got into this position. When Mr. Phelps first came to Stonebridge Boys' Secondary, four years ago, he had been adamant that nobody should know. To command the boys' respect - as well as to keep his job - his behaviour must be above reproach. Of course, as head of PE, he had many innocent opportunities, and it would have been folly not to have taken some of them. The gym rules for instance. He insisted that outdoor shoes should not be worn on the polished floor; but the highly polished surface would have been dangerous in stockinged feet. It had to be gym shoes or bare feet; an eminently sensible rule, but Mr. Phelps noticed that certain boys "forgot" their gym shoes on a regular basis. Why would they do that? Finally his patience snapped. Nicholas Mountjoy - a small, fair-haired, freckled-faced second year was performing barefoot again. That made six weeks now, and two weeks of last term. Mr. Phelps had had enough. "Mountjoy!", "Sir?", "Do you not own any gym shoes?", "I forgot them sir", "You forgot them,sir", the sarcasm was heavy as his voice rose in pitch and volume, "you forgot them last week too, didn't you sir? and the week before that, sir. In fact, sir, you seem to be always forgetting them, sir. DON'T YOU SIR?" , he thundered at last. "Sir" was all the boy could say. Mr Phelps was still in thundering mode. "Not good enough sir. Wait for me in my office. The rest of you get changed." He had deliberately not returned to his office until the rest of the class had left for break. By that time he had calmed down somewhat. The boy sat on his visitor's chair, beside his desk. He was still in his PE vest and shorts, and bare feet. Mr. Phelps sat down, leaned back in his chair, and sighed heavily. "Nicholas Mountjoy", he began in a tone of quiet exasperation, "is it your intention to attend all your PE classes barefoot?" Nicholas' barely audible, "sir", could not easily be mistaken for an answer to this question but Mr. Phelps seemed to take it for an affirmative. "Right then!", he said sudenly as he leaned down and grasped the boy's left ankle, "we'd better check you don't have any verruccas or other nasties to pass on to the rest of the class then." That sounded lame even to the teacher, but the boy said nothing. He simply leaned back in his chair and, as the Mr. Phelps placed his left foot in his lap, Nicholas put his right one there also. Nicholas, being small for his age, had small feet. His arches were high, his toes short and curled slightly, his little toes sat paralell to the others - suggesting that he spent a lot of time without shoes or socks. his toe-nails were soft and neatly trimmed, his soles soft and pink in the vodal areas. Mr. Phelps whilst gently caressing the lovely left foot noticed that the toes of the right foot were burrowing into his crotch . He found himself getting turned on. "You're doing that on purpose, Nick", he wispered. Nicholas said nothing, but continued to massage his teacher's genitals by wriggling his toes. Mr. Phelps unzipped his flies. The eager toes of Nicholas' right foot immediately pushed in, explored and, eventualy found Mr. Phelps now erect penis. By this time Mr Phelps had lifted the boy's left foot to his lips and was licking the sole of that. Nicholas' hand was inside the waistband of his own shorts. He was clearly jacking himself off. as his teacher began to suck on his toes. The breaktime sessions had become a regular thing that year. Surely some of the other boys must have noticed. Mountjoy had been the first. The following year Mountjoy's younger brother, Stephen, had come to Stonebridge. Probably egged on by his elder brother he began leaving his gym shoes at home. In addition to the breaktime sessions Mr. Phelps began awarding detentions for these misdemeanours. Some evenings both boys attended. John Starr an educationally backward second year also took to leaving his shoes at home. Mr. Phelps only had him in the office at breaktime once. The following Saturday he had answered his front door to find Starr on the doorstep, a lopsided grin on his face. "Thought I'd let you check my feet out sir", he said, walking past the teacher into the living room. He had sat down and, by the time Mr. Phelps had deadlocked the front door, he had his shoes and socks off and was removing his shirt and trousers. It was clear that nothing Mr. Phelps could say or do would dissuade the boy, so he had taken him upstairs to the bedroom. Starr was heavilly built for his age, and an early developer. A dusting of fine black hair covered most of his body, including a thick black nest round his genitals. His feet were large and sensual. As the teacher began to fondle him he in turn took out Mr. Phelps' penis and began to wank him. Mr. Phelps, realising that he now relied on this boy's discretion, dared not protest. A torrid session followed . Mr Phelps licked and sucked, rubbed and fondled Starr's bare feet, while Starr fondled and wanked his teacher. Hell! at one stage the kid had taken him in his mouth and sucked him off. The Saturday afternoon sessions had become a regular thing. Sometimes Starr would come alone; sometimes he would bring Dennis Dorking. Dennis, although brighter than Starr, was completely under Starr's thumb, and loved it. If Starr said "jump" Dennis made for the ceiling. Dennis was an effeminate looking boy with dark hair and eyes, smooth but sallow skin, luscious eyelashes, and a small wiry frame. He also had a thing about other boy's bare feet. Sometimes Starr made him service his huge feet. Dennis loved it. By the following year Graham Jermin had joined the gang. Graham had had a few breaktime sessions when he had deliberately not brought his gym shoes. Graham was too old to be browbeaten by a teacher, but it was he who had insisted on going to the teacher's office. At the end of term Jermin had left Stonebridge for good, and without any prospect of finding employment. Within a week he had also been kicked out of the family home when his father caught him fucking Chris, his younger brother ( Chris later went into care after his father tried the same thing).Graham immediately turned up on Mr. Phelps dooorstep. Graham was a sixteen year old sex god. Bulging muscle, rippling chest, cock like a wild animal's, hairy legs and feet to kill for. For two weeks Graham Jermin slept in Mr. Phelps bed with him every night. They wrestled and played with each other into the smsll hours. Some nights Mr. Phelps slept with Graham's bare feet next to him on the pillow. Other nights they lay wrapped in each other's arms. Graham had two good friends who sometimes came to the house with him. Nicholas Mountjoy was one of them, and Terry Charm was the other. Nicholas had developed into a virile young man, still with the cute feet of his boyhood, but now able to cum, and with a penchant for taking other males up his arse. His favourite position was on his back on the table , his legs lifted to expose his hole to Mr. Phelps' cock, his bare feet exposed to Mr. Phelps probing tongue. Terry Charm was eighteen and street wise as they come. He lost no time in pointing out to Mr. Phelps that if he (Terry) chose not to be discreet, Mr. Phelps stood to lose more than his job. Yes it was certainly dangerous. On Saturdays now Terry and Graham and co. routinely forced him to strip before he serviced their feet, their cocks, and anything else they wanted him to service. He dare not resist. Worst of all he had become Terry Charm's foot slave. Or should that be best of all ?