Date: Sat, 01 Aug 2020 21:40:41 +0000
From: Jack Nifty <jacknifty@protonmail.com>
Subject: My Friends' Feet - Chapter One

Hey - thanks for clicking on my story.

I'm trying to get into writing and this is only my second ever piece so I
would really love to hear your thoughts on this story: both positive and
negative. You can get in touch with me at: jacknifty@protonmail.com or by
going to my twitter which is: https://twitter.com/JackNifty I'll be posting
links to chapters and other materials on there so go check it out.

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Disclaimer: Whilst this first chapter doesn't have any, this story will
contain sexual acts undertaken by teenagers who are all over the age of
consent in the UK, where they live. Any actors playing the roles of these
fictional characters in your mind are over the age of 18 and fully
consenting. There will be fetishes depicted, namely footplay, socks and
trainers. If any of this offends you, or if you are not legally allowed to
read this, you should stop now. If you continue then any consequences are
your own fault. This is fictional, although aspects may be informed by the
real-life experiences of the author. Any similarities or resemblances are
purely coincidental.

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My Friends' Feet - Chapter One

Turning sixteen is a significant point in a person's life here in the
UK. It's your final year of secondary school and, during that year, you
have to sit your first set of really important exams. Those results will
decide many things for you, even if you don't wish them to. Will you go on
to a college or sixth form to study for your A levels, possibly taking you
on to university? Might you miss the mark and decide to use the next year
to 'resit' in hopes of improving your grades? Are you ready to enter the
world of work straight away through things like apprenticeships? Different
people will make different choices and it's probably the first real moment
in your life where you begin to separate out from those friends who you've
seen day in day out for, at least, the last five years. This is the reality
for tens of thousands of teenagers throughout England. And, of course, this
is on top of dealing with the usual whims of puberty and the uncontrollable
urges you experience on a nearly hourly basis - or is that just me?

My name is Cole and I'm one of these sixteen-year olds. This is my story
but, before you begin, I must warn you: it's not what I had intended it to
be. There were twists, turns and... complications that I just didn't
predict. To be honest, I don't know if I even could have foreseen them or
how they would have changed my actions if I had. They say that hindsight is
20:20 and, I guess, for somethings that is true. But, for me, even looking
back and knowing how it all panned out, it feels like some of the things
that happened were just unavoidable even if they were deeply regrettable.

You will judge me. Of that, I'm sure. In many respects, I deserve to be
judged: it's not like my initial goals were honourable ones. It's likely
that you'll also cast judgement upon my friends. All I ask is that you
don't treat us too harshly - you were sixteen once.

As I write this, it's the beginning of the summer holidays for all of the
students in England but that's not where the story begins. For that we'll
have to go back two months to the morning after my sixteenth birthday. It
had been a very over the top affair, something my parents had been very
keen to provide. As the youngest in the group of teenage boys that I
consider to be my closest friends, I'd been the guest at party after party
across the year. When it was finally my turn, I was little... done with it
all but I'm my parents' only child and so, if they wanted to make a huge
fuss, I just had to go along with it. There had been a huge gathering in
the evening with a wider group of friends and my extended family, but the
main bulk of the day had consisted of activity after activity for me and
five others. There'd been paintballing, escape rooms, climbing,
kayaking... anything that I'd shown even the slightest interest in, my
parents had arranged. I was hugely grateful and felt very lucky to have
family who would go through all of that trouble for me and my friends. But,
if I'm honest, the day really just got me thinking.

I'd known each of the five boys in this group since I was four-years
old. We'd started at the same primary school and been friends ever
since. Although, as we'd moved into secondary school, each boy had started
to form his only little breakaway group, with some pulling further away
than others. I guess, at this point, I was the only one who didn't have a
separate group of friends. That hadn't been deliberate. In any situation, I
just ended up hanging around with one of these boys and becoming an 'add
on' to the group that they were part of. I'd never really integrated with
any of the groups: I suppose I liked having the ability to flit between
these friends and it had suited me perfectly fine through most of secondary
school.

Fletcher and Caleb were both still good friends with each other. In our
first year of secondary, they'd been drawn into the football teams and
competitive sporting groups. It came as no surprise - they were the best
sportsmen out of the six of us. I'd enjoyed being physically active and I
can kick a ball around but didn't have the same level of dedication that
the two of them showed. Fletcher is around 5ft10 with pale skin, which is
covered in freckles. His family has an Irish heritage and it's very
noticeable in his stereotypical red hair and bright-green eyes. Whilst he
grew up here in England, he does still have a slight Irish lilt to his
accent. He is stunning with a smile that could stop you in your tracks and
he's such a positive person to be around. Caleb is a little more reserved:
he's thoughtful and can be rather quiet at times. He's the sort of person
who speaks only when he has something to say. If you need advice or just
someone to listen, he's the one to go to. Physically, he doesn't stand out
as much as Fletcher does (nor does he get the same level of attention) but
he's definitely still a very attractive guy: 5ft8 with carefully styled
dirty-blond hair and really dark, deep blue eyes.

Sam and Wes had also remained relatively close because they were both
involved in the school's musical side. Wes was a singer with a very
impressive range that puberty had barely touched. As a child, I used to
sing but the breaking of my voice put me off trying to get back into it
when I became a teenager. He's the tallest of the group, standing at a
little over 6ft with very light blond hair and piercing bright-blues. As
you can imagine, he grabs attention wherever he goes, particularly when he
sings, but he doesn't seem to be interested in pursuing much yet or, at
least, I don't know about the things he gets up to. Whilst he'd been shy
when younger, performing in concerts for the last five years had given him
more confidence than any of us. Sam was also a performer but not in the
same way: he didn't crave the limelight but nor would he purposefully fade
into the background either; he was a hell of a guitar player if given the
chance. Like me, he has darker hair although his is more of a dark brown
rather than the raven-black that I'm stuck with. He's the shortest of the
group at only 5ft6.

Tim is the odd-one-out. He isn't a loner by any means but he's involved
himself in a group that no-one else has, including me. In primary school,
Tim was picked on because of his size. He'd been the smallest in the class
for the entire seven years we spent there. Sometimes other children would
also make comments about his auburn hair but, in my opinion, I thought it
really suited him. Whilst he'd shown some growth during the first year of
secondary, he didn't really shoot up until that following summer. When he
came back for the start of Year 8, he'd grown almost a foot and had put on
pound so muscle. We'd expected him try out for the rugby team - he'd have
definitely made the cut - but he didn't. Instead, he used his newfound
growth to make sure that he was never targeted again... by integrating
himself into the group of bullies in our year. Although he'd never done
anything to any of us, he had been involved in making some of the other
people in our year group miserable. I found it difficult to reconcile the
lovely, kind boy that I knew with this person he presented himself to be at
school and some of the things I'd seen him do had brought me close to
ending my friendship with him.

As you can probably guess from my description of each of these boys, I have
been madly in love with each of them at some point over the last five
years. As soon as I began to realise that I was gay, at eleven-years old,
the feelings hit me like a ton of bricks. I've pined for them and lusted
after them. They've each featured extensively in my daydreams and in my
fantasies: I honestly couldn't tell you how many loads I've shot whilst
thinking about each of them individually and, once during a single glorious
wet dream, all together. Of course, they know nothing about any of
this. They don't even know I'm gay.

That brings me to the morning after my birthday. I was sat there in my bed,
wearing only a tight pair of blue boxers on my slim but toned frame,
looking at pictures of the group of us from the day before. When the year
ended, we were all going off in various directions and, for me, I was
stepping out completely on my own in my choice to go to a college just
outside of the city centre. I'd love to be able to tell you that what I
decided to do next came purely from a place of worry and a desire to be
close to each of these boys before I, ultimately, had to leave them but
there was definitely a huge dollop of lust in the mixture as well. This was
particularly true as I'd been exploring my sexuality online and discovering
all sorts of wonderful and intriguing ideas as to what you can do with the
human body. I'd found feet of particular interest and, recently, when I
wanked, I found myself looking at pictures online of the soles of men's
feet as frequently as I jacked myself off to the thought of one of my
friends.

Now, I need to come clean about what I decided to do but please don't
declare me to be a perverted and morally corrupt person just yet. It all
rationalised out perfectly in my head. I loved these boys... wanted
them... needed them... and in two months, I wasn't going to have them
anymore. My head made what felt like a very logical leap. At some point in
the next two months, I needed to get with each one of my friends. I needed
to kiss their lips; to stroke their cocks; to worship their feet and, hell,
to do anything else that they'd let me do. There, sat in my bed, I made the
choice that would set off a chain of events over the next two months... and
I'm pretty sure I only did it because I'd woke up so extremely fucking
horny that morning.


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Thanks so much for reading this. If you think that this story is worth
continuing, if you have any thoughts or if you just fancy a chat about it,
please let me know. You can get in touch with me at:
jacknifty@protonmail.com or by going to my twitter which is:
https://twitter.com/JackNifty