Chapter 1: Dreams Made Sweet
Third period geometry is always my favorite class of the day; I don’t much like math, but I get to sit behind Kelly Finn, who happens to be one of the sexiest, most popular girls at East River High. Of course, she wouldn’t give the time of day to a guy like me, but that’s okay – I’m more than happy enough to stare at her and fantasize every morning. You see, even if she _would_ speak to me, she probably wouldn’t understand that my primary interest in her isn’t her body (although it is gorgeous, shapely, and perfectly tanned), nor her place on the social register, but rather her feet. I guess that makes me weird, but I can’t help but feel an excited rush whenever Kelly wears sandals to class, or dangles a pump off of her pretty golden-pink heel; I just can’t get enough. When it’s warm out, Kelly is fond of wearing extremely revealing thong sandals. Her favorite pair have a thin leather sole, and are held onto her foot with thin straps made of silver- sheened leather; they are of the same general architecture as rubber flip-flops, and just as revealing, but are far more elegant and sexy. These thongs serve to bare Kelly’s sexy feet almost totally. They reveal her long, pedicured toes, painted a bright pink which is positively gorgeous against her tanned foot. Her heels are perfectly rounded, unblemished, and look completely soft and smooth. Her arches are high and her soles are soft and perfect. Her feet are tiny and narrow, with the toes long and well-defined; surely one of the sexiest pairs of feet I’ve ever seen. If all this weren’t enough, Kelly constantly plays idly with her thongs underneath the desk – She will cross her legs and dangle one thong from her toes, while the other foot has its toes curled under, giving me a perfect view of her soles, all wrinkled. Next she will flex the toes the other way, making the skin on the bottoms of her feet smooth and taut, allowing me to see how flawless and smooth her soles really are. She then will drop a thong from her toes, rubbing her completely bare feet against one another, finally absent-mindedly picking up one of the thongs between her first and second toes to play with; its all too much. I can never pay attention during the lectures in this class, but I can’t help myself when the alternative is to feast my eyes upon the hypnotic beauty of Kelly’s perfect toes and soles. Kelly is a Junior Varsity cheerleader. This matter had never concerned me too much; it just made her that much more aloof. One September afternoon, however, I had stayed after school to make up an English test I had missed. Afterwards, I had about an hour to kill before the late bus showed up, and rather than wander the school’s halls, I decided to go sit out in the bleachers and watch the football team practice; it was one of those perfect fall afternoons, with just the slightest breeze, and a brilliant blue sky, and I was in the mood for some Nature. I soon noticed, however, that in addition to the drills the football team was going through, one of the other athletic fields was being used for cheerleader practice – I was pleased to discover Kelly Finn and her comrades in shorts, t-shirts, and sneakers, doing jumping jacks and toe-touches. I thought about walking over that way to get a closer look (there were always a couple of guys “supervising” cheerleader practices), but then an inspiration of a deeper level hit me – my heart began to race with the possibility. I remembered that Kelly had worn her thongs – THE thongs – to class that morning. Swallowing nervously, I stood, and my body began to fill with a volcanic rush of adreneline as I walked down off the bleachers and headed towards the school building, my thoughts evoking a confused mixture of fear and excitement. As I nervously approached the outside entrance to the locker rooms, my heart pulsed harder and harder, my senses super-alert, glancing nervously in every direction, trying to look nonchalante. At last, swallowing fearfully, I put my hand upon the door to the girl’s locker room, afraid of passing out from the rush of fluttering fear which ran through me. Oh God. I almost wished that the locker room door had been locked, as it frequently was, so that my foolish plan would come to a safe, early end. But this was not to be- “luck” was on my side in a strange sort of way as I carefully, slowly opened up the door and slipped cautiously inside. My first order of business was to check the coach’s office, to be sure it was empty. Check. I then made a quick sweep on tiptoes to be sure I was alone in here; so far so good. The boy’s locker room was set up so that the row of lockers in the very back, next to the showers, was reserved for the sports teams to use during practices; I assumed that the same held true here. I also knew that the lockers were assigned alphabetically, so it wasn’t terribly difficult to locate the locked I wanted. A couple of people kept their stuff under padlock, but most relied upon the simple, built-in locks, which were no more difficult to defeat than those found on paper towel dispensers. Starting close to the left end of the proper row, I gained entrance into one of the lockers; a textbook belonging to Gail Evans. Not a bad guess. Two lockers over, I hit paydirt; I recognized the sweater, skirt, and blue canvas tote bag as all belonging to Kelly. The thundering rapids of adreneline coursing through my bloodstream tripled in pace as I carefully peered into the tote bag which sat upon the locker’s floor. And saw them. An erection began to swell up in my jeans the moment I picked up Kelly Finn’s beautiful leather thong sandals from the top of her tote bag. It was like a dream – the thongs I had lusted over every day this term; the actual thongs which were worn upon the actual beautiful, perfect feet of the goddess Kelly Finn. Nervously, I brought one sandal to my face, sniffing the sweet leather smell, closing my eyes and touching my lips in ecstacy to the silver, leather straps which came in contact with Kelly’s elegantly painted toes every single day. I could contain my excitement no longer: with the thongs in my hand, I carefully closed Kelly’s locker and tiptoed into the girl’s shower. It was empty, and would be for another half an hour, and more importantly, was shielded perfectly from the rest of the locker room. I figured I had a good twenty minutes here alone to touch, worship, and adore these objects of desire. Crouching down in one of the stalls (which were open on one side), I unbuttoned my jeans and allowed my erect penis to spring out; it was swollen stiff and purple, and as I began to rub it, it felt better than I could ever remember. As I stroked and played with my cock, my focus of attention was Kelly’s thong, which I adoringly kissed, smelled, and rubbed against my cheek. I felt a consuming rush to my dick as I ran my tongue along the top of the sandal’s sole, and came millimeters away from orgasm when I brushed the bottom of the shoe against my cheek. After no more than two minutes of this, I could restrain myself no longer; I brought one of the sandals between my legs and began rubbing my dick against the lightly padded leather of the topsole, pretending as if I were fucking the toe straps, thrilling to the feel of the soft leather. I was soon unable to hold back any longer – the sight of my swollen penis trapped beneath the toe straps of Kelly Finn’s holy and sacred thongs drove me over the edge – I suppressed a grunting scream of fulfillment as pints of cum jetted out of my cock, most of it sptting several feet to land on the floor, the rest of it landing it great sticky gobs upon Kelly’s sandal. I felt lightheaded; a smile of content rose upon my face, like clouds parting to reveal the sun. Most of the nervousness and excitement I had felt passed with orgasm, but I was still filled with a giddiness and disbelief that the whole episode happened. I carefully stood and buttoned my jeans, wiping the gobs of cum from Kelly’s shoe (after contemplating and quickly dismissing the idea of leaving it there for her to find, from a secret admirer), and grinding my sneaker into the rest of my sperm; the shower floor was damp, and the white splotches soon dissolved and became unnoticable. I then stealthily tiptoed out of the shower, replaced Kelly’s thongs just as I had found them, and slipped out of the locker room, my head still spinning with what I had just done. .
Chapter 2: Trouble a foot
“I saw you in the girls’ locker room yesterday after school. Sure glad I’m not in YOUR shoes, if you know what I mean!” I quickly folded the note which Laura Taylor had passed me this morning during first period History, and broke out instantly in a panicked sweat. I looked over at Laura, two seats away, who only smiled smugly at me. Laura was not a bad looking girl, but neither did she stand out by virtue of her appearance. On the one hand, she was a bit on the fleshy side, and never wore makeup or did much with her reddish hair, but I suspected she could be quite attractive if she wanted to. Her personality reminded me a bit of Margeret from “Dennis the Menace”; she was kind of stuck up in the sense that the school’s ladder of popularity was beneath her – she wasn’t an outcast or geek, but neither did she have a lot of friends. People just didn’t pay her much attention, and that seemed to suit Laura just fine. She _did_ seem to have an active interest in being a gossip or snitch since I had first met her, back in the 7th grade, and I knew full and well that she had the power to ruin the remaining two and half years of my stay here at East River in no time flat. I couldn’t figure out _how_ she knew about my adventure yesterday, but the note made it clear enough that she did. On the bright side, I figured she hadn’t spread the story around yet, or else she wouldn’t have bothered with the note: she would have just let the grapevine have done its damage. “So what do you want?” I asked fearfully. After sweating through the last half hour of history (which seemed to last forever), I had caught up with Laura in the hallway outside of class. “Why what do you mean?” she replied, feining innocence, with the same smug grin on her face. “The note,” I sighed. “I don’t know how you know, but I guess you do. What do you want?” “Doug likes Kelly Finn,” she began to chime in a singsong sort of way, antagonizing me further. “Stop it!” I gasped through gritted teeth. “Please! C’mon you don’t need to taunt me about this – just tell me what you want; what your angle is. Please.” “Just be at my house today at 3:00. If you’re late, the whole school is going to know your little secret by lunchtime tomorrow. I promise.” Laura just couldn’t keep the superior smile off of her face, and I couldn’t do a thing about it – she had me right where she wanted me. As she walked away down the hall, I could only sigh nervously, banging my head morosely against a locker, and heading off for my next class. The rest of the day went by at an absolute crawl. Kelly wore her thongs again in Geometry, but today, I just didn’t feel the desire to look at her feet and fantasize; I somehow felt self- concious just having her footsoles there in plain view in front of me. I just mainly stared at the clock in each of my classes, and kept to myself, and at last, after several months of waiting, 2:30 came, and 6th period was over, and I began the fearful trek to Laura Taylor’s townhouse. Laura lived just about half a mile from the school – I had been to her house once before, about a year and a half ago, when her mother had hosted a small party for the 8th grade drama club, which we had both been members of. I did not run across Laura on the walk to her house, but as I nervously rang her doorbell, she answered almost immediately, with the same superior look on her face as she had had that morning. As she invited me into her townhouse, I felt as if I were passing into the Gates of Doom, with no idea what lay within. “Come to my room,” Laura announced, motioning for me to follow her upstairs, not paying much attention to me. She was dressed in jeans and a New York Ballet t-shirt, carrying a bottle of coke, with white socks and dirty sneakers upon her feet. Laura’s bedroom was at the top of the stairs on the left, and looked like a typical 15-year old girl’s abode; a white bedspread with pink stripes, a rocking chair in the corner with a stuffed giraffe upon it, a Beverly Hills 90210 poster and a framed Ralph Nagel print of a woman with short cropped hair and sunglasses. Laura sat on the edge of her bed, sipped at her coke, and stared around the room in idle silence for a moment, deliberately calculated to make me sweat. “Sit on the floor, Doug.” She seemed perfectly casual and perfectly confident in her order, and filled with nervous anticipation, I had no choice but to obey. “We need to talk,” she explained, putting her coke on the nightstand, leaning back on her hands, crossing her legs. “I saw you yesterday in the girl’s locker room, breaking into Kelly Finn’s locker. That right there is enough to get you suspended. I then saw you take her sandals out of her tote bag. I saw you _kiss_ them, Doug, and then you snuck off into the showers after closing her locker. I didn’t see what you did after that, but I don’t think I have to guess. I think Kelly, and the rest of the school, would be interested to hear all about this, don’t you think?” And there it was – if there had ever been any doubt about Laura bluffing, it was all now a moot point. Laura had me right where she wanted me. “So tell me, Doug,” she asked, after a tense, uncomfortable silence, “do you _like_ kissing girls’ shoes?” “I guess,” I answered nervously after a moment, staring at the floor. “Look at me when you answer my questions,” she corrected sternly, “and answer them completely: ‘Yes Laura’ – make that ‘Yes _Miss_ Laura, I like to kiss girls’ shoes.” With every moment, I was filled with a strange blend of emotions – fear and nervousness of being trapped like this, humiliation, and a strange slowly building excitement over this turn of events. “Yes Miss Laura,” I responded meekly, blushing as I looked at her smug visage, “I like to kiss girls’ shoes.” “Would you like to kiss _my_ shoe, Doug?”
