Date: Fri, 07 Aug 2020 21:01:36 +0000
From: Jack Nifty <jacknifty@protonmail.com>
Subject: My Friends' Feet - Chapter Three

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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Then:

Cole made the decision to pursue each of his five friends during their
remaining time at secondary school. In Chapter Two, he ended up in an
interesting situation with Caleb as they completed some partner yoga
together during a P.E. lesson at school and then, later on, found himself
in possession of a pair of Fletcher's sweaty black socks.


Now:

My Friends' Feet - Chapter Three

Seeing Fletcher at school the next day was, to say the least,
difficult. Don't get me wrong, I've thought about that sexy ginger fuck for
years and shot more loads than I can count imagining him doing all sorts of
nasty things with me but this was different. Now, I'd actually taken
something of his and used it to get me off. I'd had been unbelievably hot
and I didn't regret it but, at the same time, it just felt wrong, like I
was... using him. Alright, I guess I did regret it a little. Of course, if
I'd have known everything else that I was going to do over the next few
weeks, I wouldn't waste any time feeling guilty about this one - that damn
hindsight again. But, at the time, I struggled. In fact, it got so bad that
I pretty much avoided him for the next couple of days. It wasn't terrible
because we didn't share a lot of classes together: I'm a fair
bit... brighter... than Fletcher is, if you catch my drift. Still, I
normally had lunch with him and Caleb most days so that was going to be
something I'd have to give a miss, for now at least.

It was for that reason that I was heading through the corridors, having
picked up my lunch, so that I could go eat it in the music room with Wes
and Sam. It was fairly typical for them to eat there as they were usually
prepping for some kind of performance, whether that was a concert or play,
but even when they weren't, they'd still hang around there. Our school
didn't really give enough time to those students studying music at GCSE so
they'd use their lunch break to catch up on performance skills or
composing. Technically speaking, I wasn't supposed to go there to eat given
that I wasn't doing music at GCSE but the head of music didn't particularly
mind: she was quite chilled about most things. I was about to head down the
stairs to the 'Creative Arts' corridor when I heard a noise travelling up
from the bottom of the stairs.

"We've fucking told you before, Chris," the voice carried with it quite a
significant level of aggression, for sure, but I couldn't tell it belonged
to and, from where I was, I couldn't see anything.

The replying voice did not have any such energy: "I... I... haven't... I
swear..."

"Are you calling Phil a liar then?" another angry voice but different to
the first.

"No! Just... please." The voice was becoming weaker... higher... more
desperate.

I tried to move around so that I could see what was happening: I didn't
want to alert anyone to my presence but wanted to find out exactly what was
going down.

"Urgh!" That was definitely the boy getting hit. I still couldn't see
anything but the sound of Chris getting thumped a few times was pretty
unmistakeable.

I know what some of you are thinking: Cole, that boy is clearly in need of
help, why didn't you go help him? Well, this isn't some fairy tale fantasy
where one guy can suddenly three or four people and not get the shit kicked
out of him. Besides, there could have been an entire group down there - how
would it have benefited Chris for me to jump in a get my arse beaten by
more than half a dozen lads? Look, judge me all you want but you don't have
to live my life so just cut me some slack, yeah? Besides, you don't know
what's coming for me in future chapters of my story.

"Nasty little faggot," another voice spoke but, again, I didn't recognise
it, "Don't you be perving on Phil again or we'll give it you worse next
time, won't we mate?"

There is no way that I would ever have known who that person was asking
that question to if the reply hadn't been given in a voice that I'd heard
most weeks for the last twelve years of my life.

"Yeah, much worse."

It was Tim.

When it came to Tim, I had real trouble reconciling who he was with me and
who he was with them. At primary school, we'd been so close and then, when
he'd joined these Neanderthals that he called friends, we'd just drifted
apart. I still say him and spoke to him every now and again, hell he was at
my birthday party, and when I did, it was like nothing had changed and he
was still that sweet and caring boy that I'd always known him to be. But
I'm not an idiot: I knew the kind of things he'd get up to with the people
he hung around with. However, knowing something is true and seeing that
something is true are two very different things. Cognitive dissonance is a
wonderful thing, eh? It's what allows me to still call Tim a friend even
though Fletcher, Caleb, Wes and Sam won't. And it's what allowed me to
convince myself that I should just wait there, at the top of the stairs,
until both the bullies and Chris had moved away. That way, I could just
pretend that I wasn't involved.

Unfortunately for me, it didn't work and even when I sat down to lunch with
Wes and Sam, my mind was still on Tim.

"What's the matter?" Sam asked, after I'd been sat there not saying
anything for a good five minutes. He and Wes had been talking about
something but, for the life of me, I have no idea what.

I shook my head: "It's nothing, don't worry." I tried to give him a
reassuring smile but I can't have been that convincing as the boy kept
probing.

"Seriously, Cole. Spill it."

Wes spoke before I had a chance to reply: "He's fine, Sam. He said so. So,
what song do you think I should do?" Sam looked over at me and opened his
mouth, clearly wanting to speak further but Wes wasn't having any of
it. "For goodness sake, Sam - can we focus on me? I've got a real dilemma
here!"

"Yeah, sure..." Sam turned his gaze to Wes, "What do you want to sing?"

Wes didn't miss the chance: "I can't decide whether I should do something
out of my comfort zone to try something different or whether to pick a
piece that really shows off my range, you know? I mean, it's the last time
we'll be doing a concert like this and if I want that top spot again, I'll
need to do something memorable, right Cole?"

To be honest, I probably could have left his question unanswered and he'd
have just carried on speaking. The lad gets like this sometimes,
particularly when it's something music related. But I had to speak sometime
and I needed to get my mind away from Tim: "Yeah, but you'll get the top
spot. It's been yours for, what, the last three times."

"Don't jinx me like that! Honestly, are you trying to make me mess up?" Sam
rolled his eyes at me and we both gave each other a little half-smile. Wes
didn't notice, though, as he was too busy running through a speech on how
important it was not to curse performers.

"You should join this concert, Cole," Sam said to me, cutting Wes off about
three minutes into his rant, "You've got a nice voice."

"Sam, don't be silly," Wes started, answering for me, "Cole stopped
performing ages ago: he wouldn't just come back for this one at the end of
the year."

Sam defended his suggestion: "But that's exactly why he should - it's the
last one so why not give it a go."

"Because of all the hard work that everyone else has put in performance
after performance - he can't just swan in and ask to audition. He doesn't
even study music for goodness sake!" Wes turned to me, "I'm sorry for Sam's
daft ideas - you know what he's like.

Now, I'd never had any intention of singing again anywhere other than in my
shower. Sure, when I was younger, I had a bit of talent but I found the
whole thing too embarrassing to tell you the truth. And it would have
stayed that way if not for the shitty attitude on Wes. I found myself
running my mouth off before I'd even thought about what I was saying:
"Actually, I think it's a great idea - thanks Sam."

"I'm glad," a voice came from behind me. I turned to see the smiling face
of Mrs Wick, the music teacher. She continued: "It's about time you got
back into music, I see you in here enough times. You'll audition on
Monday. Wes, come on, it's time to practise some of your songs ideas."

Wes' face was an absolutely picture, which is what I had been aiming for,
but the reality of what I'd just done sunk in the moment he stood up and
went across the room to the piano with Mrs Wick.

"Oh shit, Sammy - what have you got me into here?"

The little cutie laughed at me: "You'll love it, mate."

"Well than you'll love it too," I said, "You'll need to help me. I'll come
round yours tonight and we can sort out a song." When we were younger, we
all always used to spend huge amounts of time at each other's houses but I
hadn't been to Sam's since his mum had died, two years ago.

"No," he said quickly, "I'll come to you. Your dad still has that old
guitar, yeah?"

"Erm... I think so."

"Great, we'll go straight after school finishes," he flashed me that cheeky
grin. It didn't much matter to me where we were: I was just glad to have
some help.

It was around two and a half hours later that Sam and I were walking back
to my place. I lived quite local to the school - we all did really - but I
was close enough that I didn't always have to get the bus and I quite liked
that. Where I live is a relatively rural area and, sometimes, it's nice to
just be out in the fresh air. We were chatting again about Wes' face when I
said I'd audition when a message came through on my phone.

'Hey, thought you were meeting us for lunch. Something up?' It was Caleb.

'Nah,' I quickly typed back even though I was definitely avoiding Fletcher,
'Just met up with Wes and Sam.'

The response was instant: 'K.'

I wasn't quite sure how to take that: I wanted to send him something back
but didn't know what to say and then it hit me: 'Enjoyed doing the yoga
yesterday - you're so good at it!'

'Thanks. You did alright for a beginner.' That was definitely just him
being kind given how crap I was but it worked to my advantage.

'Well,' I started, 'I'd love to get better. Where did you say you went to?'

'You don't wanna go there - too advanced. I could show you though. Come
mine this weekend?' Fucking wow. I'd expected to get the details and maybe
wangle my way into one of the classes with Caleb in hopes of seeing him
barefoot again but this was more than I could have hoped for. Sam noticed
the massive grin on my face but I downplayed it, pretending that I'd just
remembered something funny from earlier that day. Obviously, I sent Caleb
back a definite yes.

"So, what kind of song are you thinking?" Sam asked as we reached my house,
pulling my mind reluctantly away from Caleb's soft size 8s. We went through
a few different options and then I told him that I'd head up into the loft
to try to find my dad's old guitar; he was going to meet me in my room. My
parents are a little like hoarders so diving in amongst the various crap
that they'd saved after the decades wasn't particularly easy but, after a
good ten to fifteen minutes, I did manage to find what I was searching for
and headed back down into my bedroom. The sight that awaited me surprised
me to say the least.

"Brilliant!" Sam said, a little too loud, "Here - take this." In his
outstretched hand was a half-full glass of something that I was pretty sure
was whiskey.

"Where did you get that?"

Sam chuckled and showed me the bottle. Yeah, it was whiskey. It was my
father's whiskey right from out of the liquor cabinet and, from the looks
of things, the glass that Sam was offering out to me wasn't the first one
he'd poured. "Take it, man. It's good for your throat when you want to
sing. Relaxes you the right way." My fingers closed around the tumbler and
I took it from him although I didn't drink it. Sam, on the other hand,
immediately poured himself another half-glass into the empty glass on my
desk and started sipping on it straight away. Don't get me wrong, I'm not a
prude when it comes to drinking - we had alcohol at my party and that was
fine - but I knew that I'd be the one having to face my parents when they
returned from work later on and I definitely didn't want to be even a
little drunk around them. They'd have kicked my arse to high heaven if that
had been the case. But, hey, Sam was volunteering to help me here so I
wasn't about to deny him something that he wanted.

We spent the next hour or so playing through a few songs and, actually, by
the time we were done, I was sound alright. Sam was getting quite excited
and talking about taking Wes down a peg or two but I think that that was
just the several glasses of whiskey he'd poured himself rather than any
real commentary on my talents. With me being a little distracted, I hadn't
noticed how frequently he was refilling his glass but, judging from the
bottle, he'd had a fair few. Occasionally, I sipped from mine - I didn't
want him drinking alone after all - but not enough to ever need a refill.

"That's it..." Sam said, slurring his words, "Done now." He put the guitar
down beside him.

"What do you mean?"

"No playing," he answered me whilst shifting himself over onto my bed and
flopping down on his front, "Done."

I moved to lay down on the bed next to him, grateful for that fact that I
had a double as there's no way we'd have both fit on my old single. Sam had
really developed over the last year or so. Not in height, he remained the
smallest of us all at only 5ft6 but he was starting to fill out and get
some muscles. From this viewpoint, I could stare down at his socked feet
while we chatted. They were smaller than mine, unsurprisingly, but
wider. Fuck, they looked meaty in those little grey trainer socks. Despite
not wanting to, I could feel my cock getting harder. I tried to play it
cool but I kept falling into the trap of just staring at his feet. I was so
enthralled that I didn't even notice that Sam had stopped talking until I
heard the soft snoring sounds coming from right next to my ear.

Slowly and carefully, I got up from the bed and looked back at my friend,
sleeping there on top of my covers. Damn, he looked so fucking sexy and I
swear I could feel my cock throbbing in my underwear. I moved down to the
bottom of the bed, where his cute feet were: just looking wouldn't hurt
right? And if that had been all that I did then I'm sure it would have been
fine but, you and I both know, it wasn't. Being this close, I couldn't help
but get a little closer. Of course, then, the scent started wafting from
his socked-covered toes and right up into my nostrils. It was similar to
the smell that came from Fletcher's socks but stronger, more manly. I had
to get a proper whiff of it, didn't I? I mean, it would be a crime not
to...

Fucking hell - I cannot describe to you how it felt when my nose made
contact with Sam's toes through just a thin layer of cotton. As I'm sure
you've already guessed, I couldn't leave it at that: I had to see them. The
socks came off with ease - probably thanks to Sam being drunk - and soon
both of his wide, meaty soles were revealed to me. My fingers explored
them, feeling the softness of his skin. Sam even wiggled his toes in
response to me although, at the time, it sent me straight into a panic as I
thought he was waking up. But he didn't: he slept there in his drunken
state and let me explore every little bit of his amazing soles.

My eyes drank in their beauty, my fingers explored their shape and
then... then my tongue revelled in their taste. It's not my fault - I
couldn't help it - but... fuck... I didn't want to resist either. Jumping
straight in, my tongue made contact with his heel and began a slow,
straight climb all the way to his toes. The taste was just like the smell
but so much stronger, like a concentrated version of it, and it was
absolutely delightful. The buds of my tongue were in extasy and compelled
me to keep going. I gave him long, slow and sensual licks all the way along
his soles until both of them were wet with my saliva.

"Mmm..." I heard Sam moan out. I froze for a few moments but he was still
sound asleep: my touch was providing him with pleasure even in this state.

My cock was like rock and I had to release it: there wasn't a choice.
Gripping it in my right hand, I started to stroke it, slowly sliding the
foreskin up and down my teen shaft as I continued to lick my friend's wide
feet. I don't know whether it was just a natural progression or whether
stimulating my cock had awoken the need for more in me but, as I approached
the top of one of Sammy's feet, I couldn't help but wrap my lips around his
big toe. My tongue circled it as I started pumping my cock harder: the
taste was divine and I, quite automatically, started to suck on it. All
thoughts of him waking up were now behind me - I didn't care, couldn't care
- I just needed this so fucking badly. It didn't matter that he was my
friend. It didn't matter that he might catch me. It didn't matter that I
could only do this because he was drunk. Those thoughts vanished completely
from my mind and there were only two things left of any importance: his toe
in my mouth and my cock in my hand.

"MMM!" a louder moan this time but I have no idea whether it came from me
or him. Releasing his toe, I straightened my back and moved my head
away. Already, I could feel my balls starting to tighten and pull back up
towards my body. Cum - that was the goal. That was all that was in my
head. I had to cum. I had to cum now. I had to cum... on him.

I groaned out loudly, certain that it was me this time, and I let loose my
spunk from my cock. Rope after rope shot out of me and fell right there, on
my friend's soles. "Fuck," I panted as saw the white, thick load make
patterns all over his soft skin. It just kept firing out, more and more,
and hitting his soles, his heel, all over his toes. Fuck, man, it was
everywhere. And I absolutely, fucking loved it... for about sixty seconds.

Now, I was in my room with a sleeping friend, who was also drunk, with my
cum coating his soles. What the hell was I supposed to do now? Only one
thing came to mind and it was a stupid idea but I went with it anyway.
Carefully, I replaced Sam's socks over his cum-soaked feet and then put his
trainers on over the top. Hopefully, he wouldn't notice when he woke up
and, by the time he got home, all evidence would have been absorbed, either
by his socks or... fuck... by his feet.

I stood there, just watching him and knowing everything that had happened,
but I was quickly snapped out of my dream state.

"Cole..." a voice from downstairs, "We're home."

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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