by Casper D
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I was like a kid the night before Christmas!
You see, my former foster brother Darnel had a friend named Henry who was addicted to narcotics. I won't say if it was crack, because I couldn't honestly say for sure ... but I believe that it was. I mean, he wasn't a hype or anything. Anyway, Henry was always dropping by and asking Darnel for five dollars or so. And Darnel, disgusted by what his friend had become through the years, would always turn him away.
Around the neighborhood Henry had been known as "Spooky". And, for fairly obvious reasons, the people in the hood nicknamed me "Casper". Casper and Spooky. How many people are aware that Casper the Friendly Ghost had a cousin named Spooky? Anyway, I don't know why, but I always felt a kind of odd connection with that poor guy. So much of a connection that I decided to secretly lend Spooky the money he wanted. But I would lend him the money only if he did me a favor. And that favor was to transport me to his place one afternoon and, of course, tickle my feet.
A simple plan. And because it was so simple, it worked.
On a sunny Saturday afternoon, I found myself in Henry "Spooky" Davis' apartment. I was half terrified, half pleasurably excited as I untied and removed my sneakers.
What followed is still burned into the cells of my brain to this day …
Henry himself slid off my somewhat sweaty and smelly white cotton socks and exposed my bare pink soles. As he stared at my feet, he got a look on his rather beige face that seemed to say "Damn, even your friggin' feet are soft and pampered-looking!"
Still, I'm probably wrong about whatever thoughts were running through what was left of Henry's mind at this time--as I've said, I have an active imagination.
Anyway, he tried tickling my exposed soles, but I kept kicking free ... and came very close to accidentally kicking HIM. My feet are VERY ticklish, you understand. So ticklish that nothing short of medieval stocks could keep me from kicking my feet as they're being tickled. At first Henry was frustrated, I mean he didn't necessarily relish the idea of having to tickle some guy’s smelly, sweaty bare feet just to glean a paltry five dollars. (and my feet really were kinda smelly then, for I managed to get in several games of basketball before he arrived at the park to transport me to his place) But eventually "Spooky" really got into the spirit of the task that I was asking of him. He solved the problem of my kicking legs by grabbing my feet in a headlock, if you can imagine--it's kinda like I was in a headlock, except my feet were where my head would have been, you know?
His fingers scraped up and down my excessively sensitive bare soles, then he used a toothbrush to attack the undersides of my toes. I desperately wriggled my toes and tried to flex my feet, but Henry was holding them vice-like within the crook of his arm. He'd alternate between using his fingers and using that toothbrush ... the toothbrush whose pleasure-giving powers I still dream about to this day! He inserted the bristles of that brush between my bare toes. One at a time that brush grazed all over each toe. My screams had to have been deafening, and yet Henry was totally unconcerned about anyone hearing.
It wasn't long before my face, chest, pits and crotch were damp and heady with sweat. My cock was so engorged and throbbing that it hurt ... but it was a GOOD hurt. Henry put the toothbrush aside and attacked my feet with his fingers again. He moved his fingers up and down my soles, then from left to right, again and again. I screamed my head off. And my cock throbbed and pulsated. There was electricity in my genitals, and this electricity grew stronger in intensity with each stroke of the toothbrush and each scrape of Henry's fingers. it was incredible!
Henry seemed to be surprised at how much he was enjoying himself. He retrieved the toothbrush again and began to broom it between my toes, then all over my feet. From my heels, up my soles, down through the arches and across the ball. Then he began the whole process all over again. I shot my load at the very moment Henry used the bristles of the toothbrush to trace an intense, electrified, ticklish path from the sole to my heel on my right foot. I must have spurted four times! The orgasmic experience didn't cause me to faint, but the second my last drop of jizz had been released, I almost immediately dropped off into an exhausted, but pleasurable sleep.
When I awoke I found that Henry had placed my shoes and socks (though haphazardly) back onto my still-tingling feet. He ruffled my hair as if I was a little kid before he sent me on my way.
