My stealth-mode explorations into my dad’s private life, both day and night, grew like a passionate hobby for me from that very first nocturnal voyeuristic visit to the door of my parent’s room. That subtle tasting of “adult time” had wet my appetite for more, much more! Seeing my dad’s feet either socked or bare and in private situations was like madness or deep cravings...let’s say it was like my lust for sweet candy! My sweet tooth replaced by nasal, visual and aural stimuli of the dad variety. I was hooked!

Mother dear proved to be my biggest obstacle in those days. She was so protective about dad and dad’s body. It was no wonder, as I soon learned, that dad played away from home! Mother was too prim and far too possessive to keep an Adonis like my dad happy all the time. So as I grew into my role of voyeur extraordinaire, mother had to be avoided at all costs. She was quick to punish and vanquish to bedroom solitary confinements any young person disobeying strict house rules and snooping into other people’s business was a no-no in her book of household etiquette! So the rule for me was...don’t get caught!

Daddy was always on my side. And he always encouraged my efforts in being curious and full of knowledge. Mother was all in favour of that in theory but not so much in day to day life.

Catching views of my handsome reddish blonde 40-something dad enjoying “adult time” became for me an art, the art of stealth and voyeurism supreme. I studied dad like a science project, very nonsexual for me in the early days, just dad being dad and his feet being loved by me in any way possible. Naked, clothed or any stage in between...my dad was gorgeous and every inch worth seeing!

Harrison Folsom was dad’s PA at work. They had worked together years before I was born and remained close until Harrison retired about ten years before dad did. Harrison was single, gawky, tall and spectacle-wearing plus about eleven years older than my dad. His thinning dark hair by the 1960’s made this 50-something man look a little bit fiendish to me. He oiled it in place and his bald spot glowed like a dome on a state building. Maybe he looked a bit too “James Bond” super villain-like to me. But this tall, thin, ultra pallid man seemed to be a constant player in my dad’s life and thus, mine. I never knew a time when I was not aware of Harrison.

Daddy called him, Harrison. Not Harry or Harvey, just formal Harrison. And Harrison would show up in my home with all sorts of reasons, mainly, to drop important papers off for dad to look over and sign. Dad was high up in the company and thus Harrison was his gopher, and this gopher loved my dad. I am sure mother did not like him, but daddy did and that was all that mattered. And when Harrison made up reasons to drop by, he always was invited in by my dad and taken into dad’s small study off the front hall (in our US home) and given a drink and then the door would close. Dad would spend an hour or so with Harrison and mother would keep his dinner warm on a plate. Dad was not to be disturbed and this piqued mother to no end! Harrison came first if he showed up.

Harrison with his thick spectacle covered milky greyish eyes and oily thinning hair would stand at the door if I opened it and gape at me like a bothersome salesman. He had a little mouth with thin lips. A long face, almost dog-like loomed above me. No wonder he was single. Why dad put up with this creepy guy was a mystery to me, well, a mystery I soon would solve.

“Tony is your father at home?” he asked in his high pitched voice.

As if my dad was not home, he knew he was. I’d be polite but I knew the guy thought of me as a nuisance.

“Hello Harrison. Can I just take the papers, dad is about to have dinner.” I’d say and knew he insist on seeing daddy and ruining my night routine with him. The greasy old guy always smirked at me like a big smarmy circus clown.

“Sorry, Tony. Must see him. Get him please.” He’d demand. The big ass! His suit all pressed and expensive, I should have liked him. But I could not stand the man. Besides mother, he was my next rival for dad’s attentions. And this rival I could really go to war on, he was not my family and he was such an arrogant jerk. I recall the night I inwardly declared war on greasy Harrison and it will stay with me forever!

The night I began my anti-Harrison crusade was after our meal and dad was just going to go upstairs for his nightly bath time assisted by helpful me when we heard a knock at the front door. Mother rolled her eyes and began to clear the dinner dishes.

“Reggie, don’t let him stay too long. Tony has school and you know he won’t settle until you spend time with him.” Mother chided as she vanished into kitchen-land.

Dad grunted and I tugged at him.

“Don’t open the door. Pretend we are not home.” I said in a whisper.

“Tony, that’s not nice. Harrison is very sweet to run papers over to me. You know he lives 20 miles away. I can’t ignore him. Plus he’s my friend and yours.” The ever diplomatic charismatic daddy said smiling with that matinee idol moustache twitching sweetly.

I nodded but hated it. I knew he was dad’s friend, but not mine! I followed my tall sexy socked dad to the door. I watched his brown rather sheer socks with solid toe and heel caps prance artfully to the front hall and open the portal wide to “Mr. Creepy”, a nickname I christened him that very moment.

“Reggie, sorry to bother you. The James account came thru and I wanted you to have the paperwork before your big powwow tomorrow. Here you go.” Mr. Creepy said holding a set of folders out to my dad.

“Harrison, come in and have a drink with me. Dinner’s over and Tony is off to bed.” My dad offered as he allowed our intruder in and closed the door.

“You were going to have a bath now!” I said in a rather peevish tone, just like mother.

“Oh, fun! Can we play with your rubber ducky?” Harrison barked and then hooted like a captured owl at his own joke. I rolled my eyes. The guy made me cringe.

“Tony, daddy can have his bath later. You run along.” Dad said and grabbed Mr. Creepy’s arm and guided him into the study nearby.

I followed, watching dad’s sexy socks move along the front hall carpeting. I loved those brown silky socks and had no intention of losing sight of them.

“Yes Tony, run along. Leave the big boys to their time.” Harrison, the creep said smugly turning my way as he moved into the now lit study.

Dad was inside and started pouring two glasses of scotch into two cut glass tumblers.

“Is big boy time like adult time? I asked aloud...wondering.

“It’s better, bye-bye Tony!” Mr. Creepy said leering down at me with his dog-like face as he shut the door with a click.

Laughing inside the study ensued. That jovial buddy-buddy locker-room style laughing, very old school, very good old lads sort. Dad was not like that. Harrison brought that roguish side out in dad and I hated it. Harrison was enemy number one. You can’t call your mother enemy number one, she was more a hurdle to be overcome, Harrison was more like a termite and I was the exterminator!

I heard the clatter of dishes and knew mother was busy for a while. Tony the stealth king was on mission number two now and it was crucial I get to the bottom of Harrison and what “big boy time” was all about.

I looked down at my feet, socks...need shoes. I bolted up to my room and put on my sneakers. It was warmer by then, maybe late March or early April. I pulled on a nice sweater and that would be enough for this time of year. I made sure the sweater was dark, it was navy blue. I crept down the stairs, passed the study...more laughing.

I eased my way out the front door, placed the latch on to prevent the door locking and vanished into the dark. Our home in both the US and UK had a nice all-around side lawn with hedges and fencing between our side neighbours. Nobody saw me or heard me. I crept down the left side and found myself along the two downstairs windows that were inside my dad’s small study.

My head was just about level with the lower window sills. My eyes just above the wood and almost able to peer into the lower windowpanes, almost...not quite. A lilac bush stood just by the pair of windows and it sported a rather nice main trunk and in those days, with my small build, it could support my weight. Up I shimmied, and held tight as I became level with the lower windowpane glass. The small leaves of the lilac were just beginning to appear and they made a brush-brush sound against the house. I prayed dad or Mr. Creepy would not hear me. I clung and held tight and as quietly as possible. No sudden movement inside the study. I was safe.

The keen MFF reader wonders what I saw. Well, I shall tell you. The window had red curtains, the colour and style I was used to seeing in theatres. Lush, thick red with gold fringes covered each. The shades were half-way down. The lower panes of each of the side by side windows were free of obstruction and I could gaze in to the lamp lit space. The lamp was not very bright but bright enough and it illuminated both dad and Mr. Creepy. The room had a wooden desk against one far wall and a leather couch and chair. The couch was almost opposite the windows and both men were seated and sipping drinks and slouched rather lazily on each end...their long trouser clad legs almost meeting in the middle.

The two sat talking mutedly and giggly like two schoolboys. The look of collusion slapped me hard and I knew that Harrison was trouble. He was leading dad away from me, taking him over, and changing him. I knew it deep inside my very core! He seemed too close to dad, too smug; too familiar...it scared me.

Harrison’s suit coat was unbuttoned and his necktie slightly undone. The look was that of a men’s club after hours. The daily business formalities over and the playful naughty boys come out to enjoy unspoken freedoms. Dad, of course, was in his casual knitwear pullover top and the suit slacks from the day at the office. Dad looked superior to me in every way possible from my precarious position in the lilac bush outside the study windows. I was thankful, as I would be many times in my life as a voyeur, that the shades were not completely down. I needed those 10 inches of viewing ability to find out all I could about “Mr. Creepy and my dear dad.

I was further annoyed and horrified as Harrison’s manicured fingertips pulled forth from his suit pocket a pack of smokes. I recoiled in revulsion. I was a product of the ever growing USA campaign against smoking. And so far as I knew, my daddy did not smoke. And there Harrison was pulling a rather golden expensive looking package of cigarettes out and lighting one up with what looked to be an engraved lighter. The arrogant dog faced man blew smoke into the air and guffawed about some joke he was obviously telling my dad. Dad politely reached around to the side table and produced the marble ash tray that sat there. I never saw it used. I thought it was an ornament. The receptacle was placed on the low coffee table near their legs and creepy Harrison tapped his gold-tipped smoke wand against it. I seethed inside. Then Harrison’s delicate long fingers passed the smoke over to my dad who willingly took it and puffed away. The two men giggled like naughty boys hoping not to get caught stealing cookies from the jar. Dad blew rather elegant smoke rings back at Harrison; the man was talented in every way! What a star! Dad could even make smoking seem refined back then.

Watching this sharing of an oral object between two grown men, well, it just floored me back then. The very idea that they had this thing in their mouths and swapped it to and fro made me queasy.  And I did not like the fact Harrison seemed to be the cause of this “sin” in our home. Nobody smoked in my mother’s house. Or so I thought. I mused, and rightly so, about what other “sins” Harrison would pull my daddy into. I did not have long to wait for that answer!

Now I knew time was not on my side. With daddy busy and mother just fiddling about in the house, I knew she’d eventually come looking for me. I could just see my dad’s sleek socked feet under the coffee table as I gazed from my bush point of view. I longed to be having my time with him; I’d have had those socks in my hands by now if “Mr. Creepy” had not dropped in. I was so angry at him!

My dad’s long size 11’s looked so amazingly great to my eyes as I admired the way his feet were adorned in those brown nearly sheer socks. I felt my heart racing and my woozy head swooned a bit. I could not fall out of the bush...that was clear! Dad’s toes again seemed to jiggle and twitch under the low wooden table as he helped finish off the shared cigarette with their fingers almost entwining with each pass back and forth of this forbidden item.

Harrison’s feet clad in dark leather loafers were alongside dad’s socked feet. I noted with growing jealousy a game begin, a game only daddy and I played while we ate, footsy under the table! I felt my cheeks go red hot and I flushed over with rage. “Mr. Creepy” was taking my place! This was not right...not at all!

The long, darkly socked foot crept out of the leather loafer nearest my dad’s feet. I was amazed at how long Harrison’s socked foot looked to me. Dad was very big but Harrison’s feet must have been at least 13’s! They were so long and pointy, I mean his toes looked lethal in his solid thin black socks.

Those lethal toes, which now were free of their shoe prison, moved worm-like over to my dad’s waiting feet. Dad stubbed out the smokes and lay back, spread his feet a bit on the carpet and laughed heartily. Harrison sat there and watched daddy’s face, noting his expression. Drinking him in, NO, worshipping him! I knew it and worshipping daddy was my territory. Not Harrison’s! I felt my grip on the bush loosening. My head spun and I felt like my meal was coming up!

The way “Mr. Creepy” moved his long snake-like foot all along my dad’s beautiful brown sheer socked feet was like a macabre dance of demons!  Undulating and winding along my dad’s perfectly high arch on one foot and slithering over to the other foot for the same. I watched this slow, lurid display and my dad, to my utter horror, condoned it. I felt tears well up and begin to stream down my flushed cheeks. How could my handsome Adonis of a dad allow this creep to do that, our special dinner time game, to him? Harrison was bad!

The so called “sins” I witnessed that night had only just begun. My sense of injustice had only been bruised a bit...it was about to be shattered!

The footsy game Harrison subjected my compliant daddy to was hard to accept, but even more appalling sights were on the way! I clung to my lilac bush and drank in the view of those long sharp evil socked toes pummelling my dad’s sexy socked feet, his brown solid capped toes wiggling with delight. I was raging inside, screaming and crying loudly within my head. I was imagining how much dad’s lovely warm socked feet were absorbing the scents of Harrison’s evil feet. The two scents would be melding and mixing; the idea both thrilled me and yet repulsed me. Soon the inevitable happened and Harrison slid off his other loafer and assaulted dad’s eager feet with both of his. The foot war was on and both men, obviously still chatting about something, carried on this socked battle beneath the coffee table and I saw no end in sight.

Mother would be looking for me and when she did not locate me in my room, all hell would erupt and I would be found and punished. I knew it. I was just about to sneak away when dad lay back against one arm of the couch and drew up his long legs and placed his moist socked feet atop Harrison’s lap and Harrison did not push them away. Oh, no! He smiled lovingly at my daddy and batted those murky grey eyes at him and began to massage his waiting socked feet...my dad’s sculptured perfect feet, my very special feet! This intruder was beginning to rub and prod and stroke my daddy’s ideal feet! The look on Harrison’s smug dog-like face broke me. And I lost my grip and tumbled into a noisy heap on the ground and thus the branches of the lilac snapped back and slapped the windowpanes with an almighty crack...Ka-boom! Newbie stealth-mode Tony was noticed!

My fall to the grass below was not too far, thank goodness. The wind was knocked out of my small body and I made a rather pitiful guttural sound as I made contact with the earth below the bush. The combination of my sound and the wildly thwacking bush disturbed “big boy’s time” and I heard the front door clatter open.

My first mission was to get to my feet. Quickly I popped up, nearly fell from slight dizziness and grabbed the downspout of the guttering. I stood and looked as cool as possible as dad flew around the house to see what the hell was going on outside his study windows.

“Tony, what on earth are you doing out here?” Dad said in a not overly upset way. I need my brain to work...fast!

But my eyes locked onto one salient fact, dad was out on the moist, afternoon rain showered grass in his socked feet. Those delicious brown nearly sheer socks stood before me gently impressed into the newly mown side lawn of our home. My use of my vocal chords became strained as I took in the beautiful sight before me.

“Are you alright? Tony, speak to me.” Daddy said bending low and looking in my eyes intently. His hypnotic blue eyes made me calm down and process my thoughts. And I nearly blew it. Talk about truth serum, dad’s eyes were so gorgeously alive and inviting.

“Daddy, you’re in your socks outside. Why?” I stammered. My head was still lost in “sockland” and I needed to focus. I shook myself. Had to get my story straight. Lucky for me mother was still doing some chore in the kitchen and did not hear the commotion.

“Never mind my feet, what about you?” My dear daddy said countering like a tennis match and all the while he twiddled his socked toes delightfully in the low grass.

“I thought I heard Foxglove outside and I know Mrs. Anson hates it if he gets out.” I said covering my tracks. Foxglove was the rather naughty calico cat next-door and it was always escaping and needing to be captured.

Daddy surveyed me. He was so cool and sexy with that moustache of his looking like a detective on TV.

“Get inside you cheeky monkey. Let Mrs. Anson cope with Foxglove and his nightly antics. It’s nearly past your bedtime. Come on.” Dad lovingly lifted me up and carted me playfully back inside the front door. His socked feet were leaving grassy imprints in the lawn as he moved to mount the front steps to the small porch and as he walked up the painted wooden steps...each soaking sheer sock left a barefoot-like imprint as if made by rubber stamping. The size 11 feet were daddy’s and I knew every contour and toe intimately. The porch light illuminated these unique artworks as if in a gallery in the city and from my place on dad’s broad shoulder I could marvel at them as I was carted indoors.

“So, this was the cause of all that noise!” Creepy Harrison chided as dad shut the front door and placed me down on the front hall carpet. Dad moved back into his study and Harrison followed on his long, sharp dark socked feet. The study door was closed and I stood with the two tall men looming over me.

“Don’t mention this to my wife. She’ll go nuts if she thought Tony was out in the night alone chasing a cat.” Daddy said plopping down on the leather couch and down the last of a newly poured scotch.

“My lips are sealed, you naughty boy! I thought you might be house-peeping.” Harrison said joining daddy and sitting a bit too close to him. His spectacled eyes glaring at me, seeing me, the real me...damn him!

“Never mind. He’s safe and his mother need not worry. And we have a big day tomorrow and I must get my beauty sleep.” Dad said putting his two rather see-thru brown sheer socks upon the coffee table.

“You don’t need a beauty sleep Reggie, get with it, I do!” Harrison said laughing in that catty-creepy way I loathed.

And then Harrison’s eagle-eyes spied dad’s very wet socks. He made a big O shape with his mouth.

“Oh, dear! You’re lovely expensive socks are all wet from rescuing naughty Tony on the damp grass. Here let me get them off you.” The overly helpful PA said as he moved to grab daddy’s coffee tabled size 11 beauties.

“That’s my job! I take daddy’s socks off every night.” I nearly screamed in rage as I launched forward and nearly tackled my dad’s wiggling warm socked feet.

“Not every night sonny, not every night.” The asshole Harrison chided me as he lifted his scented fingers to his nose and sniffed at daddy’s foot smells ever so innocently...but with malicious looks shooting my way. I imagined how nice his fingers would have smelled after touching and rubbing my dad’s socked feet after a long day at his office. It was as if Harrison knew my heart and my motives...he read my mind! He seemed to know all about my secret devotion, dare I say, obsession with my dad’s feet.

But I had daddy’s feet in my hands now. They were soaking wet, each sock almost sodden completely. The see-thru effect was dazzling and his pink feet inside each sheer sock shone like masterpieces in the study lamplight. My heart melted. I had won, well, at least this round. The score simply...Tony one and Harrison zero. For now at least.  More battles to come and with many other opponents who wanted my daddy in all sorts of ways.

“Please don’t fight over my socks, boys. You can take my socks off another time Harrison, OK?” Daddy said playfully as I began to pull each long, sheer sock free of his damp sculptured feet.

“No, it’s not OK. I do your feet. Me!” I said as I pulled the last sock off dad’s right, and now beautifully bare foot.

The sight of his bare pink foot flesh held my gaze and I went into hear palpitation mode. My breath short and my head spinning. The musky scent of dad’s feet, dulled a bit by the moisture, still rocketed up my nose and turned my world into rainbow explosions of joyful bliss.

Dad watched me as I gaped in my trancelike state. He said nothing.

Harrison broke the reverential moment. “He looks ill. Why don’t you go to bed little man? Let me have those damp socks. You shouldn’t be touching your daddy’s dirty old socks. It’s not healthy.”

The rage turned me red, both inside and out. Dad just looked at me. I grabbed the wet socks tightly in my fist as Harrison moved upwards toward me and attempted to grab them from me. His manicured fingers nearly about to touch my own...to take my prize!

“NO!” I screeched and bolted like a flash from the room and up the stairs. My room was my hidey-hole and no creepy guy was going to take my dad’s socks from me! No way!

As I fled I heard my dad say apologetically to Harrison. “He’s a bit overtired no doubt. He’ll be right as rain tomorrow.”

I would never forget the “big boy’s time” I had seen from the lilac bush and what Harrison was capable of behind a closed door. My dad needed protecting from him. I could not stop what happened at work or when they went off on business trips and there were many of those. But I could monitor daddy at home and boy, did I mean monitor! I knew dad’s willpower was weak around a guy like creepy, greasy Harrison and so I just had to be a watchdog. And that was a role I did not mind!

I got to my room that night and hid in my closet for about 15 minutes and waited, dad’s socks cradled in my hands and covering my face. I breathed the damp, sweaty moistness of his day into my lungs...I let it fill me with his very musky manly essences. I sailed on a cloud in the dark confined space and just enjoyed his perfect sock scents. If I could also smell Harrison’s despicable socks that had touched my dad’s in that footsy game in the study, well, I am not sure...but all the smells were lovely to me at that moment and I just enjoyed the whole experience.

“Tony, I want you undressed and in bed in five minutes flat.” Mother’s voice called out from the upstairs hallway.

I crept out of my private “office” and moved to get ready for bed. I heard the sound of running water and knew daddy was taking a late bath. Harrison was gone and the 15 minutes had brought dad upstairs to carry on his interrupted nightly rituals.

I carried his socks into the bathroom, pushing the door wide and surveyed my delightfully naked father soaping his body and enjoying the moment while lying nearly under the surface of the bubbly foamy water. The splashing ceased and dad looked at me as I reluctantly placed his beloved brown day-worn socks into the clothes hamper.

“Tony, I have no idea what went on tonight. Your behaviour was rude to Harrison. I work with him; he’s known me for years and is a good friend. You should be kind to him. That’s not like you.” Dad said soaping his lush reddish golden hair now.

“He’s not very nice. He tried to take your socks from me. That’s my job!” I said defending my actions as I walked over to the tub edge, gazed in and examined my dad’s soapy body below. Looking at dad in the tub was a nightly event and in my non-sexual way I surveyed his manly flesh top to toes, especially toes. The suds blocked quite a bit of my daddy’s body from view but I could see bits here and there and it all looked good...the way it should. Dad noted my approving smile as I looked him over and he chuckled in his goodhearted way.

I grabbed the sink bar of soap and dad dutifully placed his size 11’s on the tub edge and I began that nightly ritual of foot washing I loved to do and with great feeling. I did feel a true ownership of my dad, every blessed inch...especially those feet! I truly lingered that night on each foot, really working my soapy fingers into each arch and rubbing up and down. Dad sighed with delight.

“You are quite a character, Tony. I should tell your mother about your naughty outburst tonight.” Dad said with his wet reddish gold locks plastered against his head with that post-shampoo look.

“Daddy, you should not smoke you know. Mum would not be happy you and Harrison were doing that. I saw the ash tray all yucky looking.” I said knowing we each had a little secret from mum.

My dad laid back and his sizable classically uncut cock and balls moved fully into view, seeming to almost float in the bathwater mid-tub and his rusty public hair framed them so artfully in the foamy surface. His playful blue eyes held my gaze as I rubbed his long toes with my eager fingers.

“You, my son, will go far. Maybe politics will suit you. That was well played, Tony. Well played. I’ll not tell mum of your rudeness tonight and if you keep Harrison and my smoking cigarettes to yourself...OK? Deal?”  He added coyly.

I rubbed those beloved toes with more gusto, even though he said Harrison’s secret, it was daddy I only cared about and so I was thrilled to comply.

“Sure, deal! But don’t smoke, it’s bad for you.” I added and gave his big toe a little nip-kiss, an act I had perfected.

“Ouch, you rascal! I know and I don’t smoke very often...so don’t worry.” He said breezily.

“And don’t let Harrison be bossy to you.” I said rubbing one his juicy plump heels with round, circular motions of my small hand.

“I can handle Harrison. I am his boss, remember?” Dad said pulling his bare feet away and into the water for a rinse.

“Yes, daddy. But he seems a bit...mean.” I could not think of a better word to describe my distrust of the man. My vocabulary was not that advanced at that stage.

Dad splashed about finishing his tub and rose up, my naked Adonis dripping wet.

I handed him his towel as he spoke, his hands beginning to vigorously dry his hair. The rest of his fleshy nudity just stood there dripping and looked very statuesque as I gazed at him. I sagely had a shocking thought all of a sudden; I did not share it aloud. Had evil Harrison ever seen my dad like this? Naked, perfect...my uncut Adonis museum worthy daddy? They were away together on business trips, out after work together, out to “who knows where” sometimes on a weekend. I got a cold chill.

“Harrison is a very good man. He’s a dear friend. Please don’t say things like that.” Dad said in a matter of fact way, no wiggle room for me to disagree at all.

I just nodded my head and looked at dad. I loved him so and I knew he was truly misguided about Harrison. Tony knew best. I could not tell him, but I was going to get between daddy and Harrison at all costs. No more “big boy time” without my supervision. I had no idea what it all meant but I planned to be as much a part of it as possible.

I knew by what I had witnessed that creepy Harrison Folsom liked my dad’s feet and socks, but two questions remained...just how much did he like them and would he try to take my place at my dad’s perfectly delicious feet? He better damn well not...Harrison Folsom beware, Tony was on the war path! I would not share my dad and I meant business!

More of my life saga on the way. Thank you for reading and write me anytime, Tony!