by Shotndadark
Saw a commercial about Denny’s restaurant the other day, and it got me to reminiscing about how much time I’d spent in my local franchise back in the 80’s.
There were wild nights there. I’m talking about a table full grungy teens camped out for who knows how long drinking copious amounts of coffee-flavored cream and sugar. Denny's was the coolest place in college. It was completely packed from 1-6 am.
There's no Denny's anywhere near me now forty years later. The closest is IHOP or Waffle House. I really miss Denny's. Oh, do I remember hanging out in the wee hours—about eight punk kids with maybe $7 total between us. Because of this, we’d order a plate of fries that everybody shares while we talk obnoxiously and fuck each other on the sly. Drink the ice water down till about 1/5 is left, then add the sugar and creamer to the leftover ice to make punk rock ice cream for dessert. Marvelous times.
IHOP was for hanging out after high school football games.
Waffle House was for family after Sunday night church services.
Dennys was the place to be. That’s where I smoked my Camel Lights and the grill cook told me stories of his days as a roadie for Pink Floyd and he gave me change for the jukebox to play what I wanted as long as I played “Cuts Like a Knife” at least once for him. It was a place where I’d hang out with my stoned and straight friends in the back corner booth playing Alice In Chains on that same jukebox to piss off the hillbillies while drinking Sanka.
My buddy Corey would bring a backpack full of pens and draw on the backs of the paper placemats. He handed out so much crappy artwork back then! He did a whole zine (handmade magazine) on the back of a placemat once. Then he took it to Kinkos where a mutual friend worked and made a hundred copies of it and gave ‘em out at the next Punk show. He and I and our other friends would sit around all night talking about the local bands and Dungeons & Dragons, sipping those bottomless cups of coffee and sometimes hiding out behind the dumpster to smoke joints or fuck.
Corey Durham was the newest of my friends back then, and the way he stumbled into my life was as magical and memorable as everything else back in those days….
I’ll never forget the moment I saw this handsome, rusty-haired, fair-skinned youth stumbling down the street from Denny’s, lurching from side to side. When he fell into the street twice and attempted to continue on after scrambling to his feet… well, I just knew that it wouldn’t be long before he was passed out in the middle of the street.
"You all right?" I asked, looking at him with what I hope was concern. I mean I couldn’t help but notice how handsome he was. I hoped my late-teen lust wasn’t so obvious. I’d look creepy.
His terrified blue eyes looked at me dazed.
I reached out a hand to him when his eyes slowly rolled back and his body slumped forward. He almost passed out, collapsing on top of me.
This beautiful creature had nearly fainted in my arms! I calmed myself and stood up. Carefully I lifted the lad into my arms. I was surprised at how heavy he was. Despite the slender appearance, he was made of packed-tight muscle. I couldn’t help but use my hungry hands to feel this inebriated nineteen-year-old all over. I could smell his sweat as I did so. He had a clean sweat smell complete with apple shampoo.
My apartment building - a cracker box really - was just a few blocks away. It was not a long walk, so I knew I could carry the kid there. Plus, I wanted to. I wanted to feel his helpless weight flopping over my shoulder. So, I hoisted the beautiful, semi-conscious lad over my shoulder and got him to my place. He laughed drunkenly the whole way there.
As soon as I get him through my door he begins to come more and more to his senses, so I sit him on the bed—right next to my heavily sleeping roommate! He [Corey] was confused, but he didn’t say anything. In fact, he held out his arms so that I could pull off his shirt. He wanted me to undress him. So I did.
He says nary a word as the smell of his feet wafts in the air. I’ve pulled off his Vans sneakers, and the socks they concealed smelled of young sweat. I removed his white sports socks. He seems on the edge of fainting and his blue green eyes begin to roll in his head. He’s a youth of nineteen with a much younger boy’s face. He tilts his rusty head, considering me with a dazed look. Now it feels like our roles have been temporarily reversed: I feel stripped naked now. Vulnerable in his presence. I got over it and used some nylon rope to bind his ankles. I also quickly searched through my home to gather useful tickling tools like eagle feathers and toothbrushes.
Corey Durham’s body was slim and with beautiful fair skin that asked to be licked. Pink man-nipples decorated his rather boyish chest, but it was his feet that captivated me. Pinkish-white perfect feet they were. Perfect with perfect toes that I couldn’t resist smothering in gentle kisses. And these feet had been in those Vans for hours and they were sweaty and soft. My fingers glided over them like silk and the boy jerked mightily on the bed. I got right under his toes and that just killed him.
"Ooh!! Mister . . . hahahahahhehehe! S-s-s-toop!
Mister? Even though he most-likely looked younger than he actually was, I suspect that he was at least a year older than me in reality. I figured nineteen or so.
HAAAAAHAAAHAHAHAHAHAAHAH!!!HEHEHEHEHHHHHEEEEEEEE!! C-C'mon NoOO!! I-I-I
C-c-an't OOHHHH! You're -HAHAHAHAHA Killing---HEHEHEHE m-meeee! No! Please!
HAAAHAHAHAAAAAAARRRRGH! HAAAAAAAAAAA!!
Corey tried desperately to jerk his feet away, but I had tied his ankles too tightly to allow that. Corey screamed inwardly. Then outwardly. Soon he was so out of breath he could barely laugh or scream in any form or fashion. I intensified the tickling of my houseguest’s tender feet, running the feather over his toes and back down his heels, then in between all ten of his toes and over his insteps.
"AAAAAAAAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHA!!!" Corey laughed, on the cusp of hyperventilation. He tried to continue to verbally beg the inmate to stop, but he was laughing so hard that he simply wasn't capable of intelligibly vocalizing his pleas. I spent a lot of time torturing the nineteen-year-old’s feet. I tickled them with a vengeance, making the rusty-haired boy howl while his toes curled in a futile effort to get away from the relentless tormenting sensation.
Corey pleaded that the endless foot-torture would end. I responded by concentrating on his armpits for a while. Corey pulled at his bonds to get away from the tickling sensations in both armpits. He screamed and howled as the feather stroked back and forth—first in his right armpit and then in the left. Still, Corey Durham’s feet were the most ticklish part of his body. Each new stroke across his toes brought new laughter and struggling from the handsome rusty-haired youth. Corey's legs jerked and pulled at his bonds, but it did no good--the tickling continued for some time.
Eventually I had such a raging hard-on that I knew I had to find relief. I grabbed both of his ankles and thrust my steel-hard dick between the snow semi-conscious boy's soles and toes. I squeezed his sweaty bare feet together as I fucked them faster and faster.
"YEEEEAHHHH! Fuck that bastard's feet! Fuck 'em!" My watching roommate (Jason) yelled as he stroked his cock in rhythm to my fucking. And all the while he kept sniffing Corey’s discarded socks. I don’t know when he’d awakened and took interest in the fun my new houseguest and I were having, but it was an interesting new development to the experience.
His words were affecting me and I began leaking lots more pre-cum. I knew I was getting close to shooting my load as I manually rubbed Corey's toes over my dick and used them to tease the crown. I fucked my future pal’s feet like there was no tomorrow, pumping my dick against those perfect toes until it finally exploded! I let out yell as I began creaming the semi-conscious Corey's delicious soles with my hot cum. Jason was watching and was pumping his own cock like mad AND was watching me as my hot milky white jizz erupted all over Corey's toes and soles.
My roommate then came over to where I was having fun with Corey. Practically shoving me out of the way, he decided to lick the drunken boy's feet clean. He started at Corey's cum-coated heels and licked up to his cum-coated toes, kissing his way all around those digits and tasting my jizz as he did so. When he reached the rusty-haired youth’s big toe, he popped it into his mouth and sucked it while licking away the creamy cum that coated it. He worked on both the boy's feet—sucking from big toe to pinky toe and all the toes and crevices in between. When he tasted more of my cum in between Corey's toes, my roommate would pause, swallow and continue with his licking and sucking until he shot his own load.
After the sun came up, the three of us pooled our money (mostly Corey’s) and went back to Dennys. Once there we had a “Grand Slam Breakfast” (the one with the baseball cards, remember those?) and really got to know each other. Great times.
