My life story continues...

Seeing my handsome dad laying back, OTC sleek black socked feet atop the wooden coffee table and sipping a whiskey was a lovely sight.

I LOVED my dad and the way he looked. He was suave and elegant to be sure. Six feet of sheer matinee idol delights with that tousled rusty golden hair...but what I hated was Harrison bending low and stroking my dad’s shapely socked foot. That made my blood boil and my fiercely jealous nature sprang to life. He was my dad, all mine. How dare Mr. Creepy play with my daddy’s feet...again!

I sprang forward on my burgundy socked feet, the golden woven toe caps charging toward dad. I nearly knocked Harrison’s drink out of his hand. He puffed smoke from his cigarette towards me, utter annoyance registering on his long unattractive face.  His bald spot seemed to glow with a dull red...heated rage?

“Watch it, sonny! Remember this is a corporate apartment and not a playpen. Take care not to spill our drinks. Why not go and get some rest? The little man looks so tired, he’s over tired.” Harrison said all this as he planted himself next to my daddy on the couch and addressing the later part almost in his ear.

I was now clutching at my dad’s moist socked feet, feeling the length of each size 11 with my small, skilled fingers. His graceful toes wiggling happily under my massage skills as the sheen moist fabric seemed to aid in my gliding movements. Dad’s eyes were closing and he sipped the whiskey in almost a blissful way. The smell of his feet stilled my jealous rage and my heart now resumed a steady beat. A faster beat to be sure because of his wonderful aromatic socked feet, but not in anger as it had been moments before. I worked my fingers deeply into daddy’s meaty feet and felt joy surge within me as it always did every night I performed this sacred ritual. The swoony light headed sensation making my eyes roll, Harrison watched in utter fascination. Daddy may have been getting tipsy on whiskey, I was getting high on his feet and all that they meant to me! Every curve, every smell...all mine and beloved beyond measure!

I knelt by the coffee table and just drank in dad’s alluring feet, and then Harrison plopped his whiffy feet next to dad’s feet...side by side the pair of socked feet stood facing me. Dad’s slightly smaller and handsomely proportioned feet next to Mr. Creepy’s long, skinny and sharp ones. I loathed his feet!

“Don’t I get a foot rub? I think I deserve one.” Mr. Creepy said mockingly as his beady eyes glared at me from behind his spectacles. That thinning dark hair all oily and slick covering or trying to cover his bald spot...he looked sinister to me.

Handsome dad sipped his whiskey and eyed me casually. His warm socked feet felt like heaven under my fingertips. He smiled in his warm way.

“Go on, rub his feet. Make him happy. I can’t have all the fun!” Dad sighed and pulled away, his socked feet landing upon the carpet. “Let me top our drinks up.”

Dad grabbed Harrison glass and trotted off. I glared up at smirking Mr. Creepy with an evil smile.

I reached over and dug my fingers into his bony socked feet. The lack of flesh and a feel of more bone immediately caught my attention. My dad’s feet felt so full and supple, Harrison’s felt like a corpse. All bone and nothing to grab onto.

The strong aroma of his sweaty socks soared up my nose again as it had earlier, this time minus my own feet smells. His were so rank by themselves, almost acrid- too cheesy by far. The thin brown ribbed socks, although very stylish, looked all stretched out and thin around the sharp pointy toes beneath. His feet would never have been good enough to model socks, never! Unlike my darling dad’s feet. Harrison’s were long, skinny and bony! Narrow is too kind a word really to describe what I held.

“Hey you, be gentle with my feet. Many men have tried to massage them, I usually shy away...I’m so ticklish!” He said in his high-pitched voice.

“Oh, really!” I said in a hushed tone as I worked my strong fingertips deep into the ball of his left socked foot. The sudden movement and ferocity of my attack stunned him but then...he gulped for air. My fingers moved like lightening. I began to tickle his foot like a demon. My eyes must have been glazed over with sheer glee; Harrison looked awed and almost shocked. He had no idea who he was dealing with. Or maybe he did?

He tried to pull free; I used one hand to hold his foot and the other strumming madly all over the entire length of his wiggling socked foot, heel to toes. He would have thought I was playing a guitar in a rock band as I worked that foot. He gulped, gasped and whooped as my tickle attack proceeded.

“Help, Reggie, Ahhhhhh!” He managed as he pulled and tugged his foot in a desperate attempt to rid himself of me and my demonic tickle attentions.

Dad, pouring whiskey, looked back in his cool way. His moustache twitching and his smile as big as neon signs we saw in Times Square that very night.

“Harrison, if you let Tony near your feet...it’s heaven or hell. Did I forget to mention the possibility of hell? Sorry old chap. I guess you are getting the hell treatment tonight.”

Harrison yelped, giggled and moaned as he kicked me with his free foot. Not very hard but he tried his best. Rubbish soccer player I fear. I did not let his socked footed feeble kick deter me one moment. I hated this man. I saw him as the enemy and rival for my dad’s attentions and his feet. My job was to make him pay, and pay he would!

The ugly horse-faced Harrison really lay back and yanked, my hands lost the grip I had and his socked, smelly foot sailed free. He stood up and brushed his expensive trousers free of any creasing my tickle-fest may have caused as he struggled to be released. His expression now seemed sour.

I put my hot, tired and moist fingers to my nose. He watched, his eyes like that of a snake...he wanted to know what I thought of his foot scents. The acrid scent of those brown ribbed socks that had been on his feet all day was potent. Not perfume like my daddy’s, just strong and too sharp for my ever growing sensory appreciation in the art of enjoying male feet.

I rose unsteadily from my place on the floor, my own sweaty socks feeling so warm against my tender foot flesh. My fingers smelled so strong of Mr. Creepy’s scents.

“I better wash my hands.” I said nonchalantly and marched away. Dad sipped his whiskey from the kitchen area and smiled. I heard Harrison breathe a little growl of a slur under his breath, “Fucking little bastard.” I knew daddy would not have heard it. But I knew I had won another round in our on-going war for my dad and his wonderful feet!

I washed my hands, my smile broad. I looked at myself in the vanity mirror, the bathroom was rather ornate and well it should be for its swanky location in the city. I was handsome, never a stunner like my dad but I saw my dad in me and it felt amazing. Harrison was a creep and I felt on top of the world...well, for a minute.

Dad sailed in and shut the bedroom door and stood on his delightful socked feet at the bathroom door.

“Tony, Harrison is all upset and ruffled. You should not be so aggressive. I understand it; he thinks you are just plain naughty. I told him I’d have a word with you...” he got that far before I burst into tears.

I sort of crumpled. My vision blurred. I fell back. Dad rushed and grabbed me. Did I faint? Pass out from sheer exhaustion? The attack on Harrison had sapped all my strength and I did not even know it until dad began to gently tell me off. I felt all weak and just crumpled.

Dad rocked me in his strong arms, still clad in his dress shirt. He pulled me up in a bear hug and carted me gently into the bedroom, and lay me upon my chosen bed.

I felt my eyes streaming with exhausted tears and my hands just held my dad’s arm tightly. I would not let go.

“What’s the matter, Tony? Did something Harrison do upset you?” He asked with great care and concern. He sat next to my sobbing form and reached with hand and stroked my cheek.

“I think he wants to take over. To own you. You’re mine. Not his!” I stammered.

Dad smiled and ruffled my now messy hair.

“I love you, you will always come first. Never worry. I am all yours but...Harrison is a long trusted friend and dear colleague. You have to be nice to him and let him be my adult friend. He is a nice guy. And cares a lot about me and you, too.” Dad added with a sideways glance.

I rubbed my nose and brushed my tears away. My body was soaked with sweat from my fainting swoon and I felt very giddy. My socked feet were so moist I was sure my socks were achieving that amazing “see-thru” status.

Dad being dad, his shirt now unbuttoned a bit, sleeves rolled up...he took charge.

“You, my love, are going to bed. Not another word. We have a big day tomorrow and if Harrison has his way, you’ll be left with a sitter while we go to my doctor’s appointment.” The look of utter horror on my face made him quickly add a bit more. “BUT if you go to sleep now and just let us have adult time, I am sure you can go along to my appointment as I know you want to. But you have to stay in bed. And let us be up late, like adults do. The bathroom is in here and we’ll be coming and going and YOU stay put. Got it?” He asked with his blue eyes gazing down at me.

I knew I had to agree. The visit to the doctor was far too special. I had to play my cards right or Harrison would have his way, and that was not good!

I nodded. But I had every intention of going into stealth mode and keeping an eye and ear on the living room and all that they got up to and I hoped Harrison would stay away from my dad’s feet. Adult time with mum and now adult time with Harrison. I had to be aware of all!

Dad began to undress me. A task he did when I was too tired to do it myself. And I just lay back and let him take charge. It felt wonderful to be in his strong capable hands. My dad, my hero!

He was a master in all he did. Stripping my clothes off in a jiffy was no exception; folding each item like a valet service. My PJ’s were at the ready having been pulled from my overnight bag. I recall how I loved having dad pull those long OTC burgundy socks from my sweaty, tickly toes. He rubbed my smaller feet and massaged my heels quickly as each moist sock was plucked away. His large strong hands felt like magic. I felt the tensions my attack on Harrison had surged up beginning to quiet and settle. Dad had that effect on me when he took charge. He bunched up my long warm socks, I pulled them from his hands and sniffed them playfully and tossed the sock-ball away into a corner. I was such a devil.

“Tony, you are such an odd duck. But we love you so very much!” He bent and kissed me. My PJ’s were donned and I was scooted into the bathroom for a tooth brush time. My own sock smells were beginning to really impress me. I thought that night my feet smelled almost as good as my beloved dad...almost but not quite!

As I brushed, Harrison pushed the bedroom door open. He was undressed and only wore his bathrobe and socks. I guessed he was nude under the robe but I could not be sure. Dad had moved to the kitchen to refresh his whiskey and Harrison had hoped to use the bathroom.

He stood and eyed me slowly brushing my teeth.

“I may be a while.” I said through my sudsy mouth.

“You are really something, Tony. But tomorrow you will be placed with a minder while I take your dad to the doctor’s. I’ll fix your wagon, little Mr. Too Big for Your Boots! I know all about you!” Harrison hissed under his breath so not to be overheard by my dad.

I spun on my nimble toes, spit out my tooth paste, rinsed and walked past a fuming Harrison.

“My dad said I am going tomorrow and you can’t stop me.” I said as I sauntered past the tall skeletal man in the bathrobe. My flashy striped PJ’s making a track for the bed. The bathroom door slammed shut.

The low, almost inhuman laugh emanating from the closed bathroom door unsettled me. I did not trust the man. I knew he had tricks up his sleeve.

I had switched the table lamp off and the burst of light came as a shock from the now open bathroom door. Harrison, minus the socks but still wrapped in his robe, swaggered thru the room and past my bed to the door to the living area. He had a wad in his hand, his smelly socks I guessed and with a quick swipe he lobbed the bundle of pure man-stink at my face. The ribbed brown ball of warm sweat-filled fabric bounced off my forehead and landed by my pillow.

I wanted to say something but held my tongue. He loomed in the doorway, his long face a mask of gleeful superiority and his bespectacled eyes all a glow with knowledge and haughty intent.

“Enjoy those socks. I know you like them all smelly. But I’ll have your dad’s socks tonight and just remember, if you even think of coming in the living room and disturbing us, you’ll not being going to your dad’s appointment. I’ll see to it!” Harrison said in a stage whisper and moved thru the door. He almost shut it fully but dad called out from across the room in his cool manly voice.

“Leave the door ajar, Tony does not like strange dark places. He knows to stay in bed.”

The door remained open a tiny crack and light from the outer room filtered in and soon the smell of cigarette smoke wafted in. I knew Harrison would make my daddy smoke, what else would he make daddy do? My mind raced and my heart accelerated. I had to investigate without being caught. So much was at risk. The smell of Harrison’s socks next to my head made me jump. The scent so strong, so HIM! I grabbed the ball of material and almost threw it but held off. The warm material felt silky and soft, subtly moist and almost...almost I say hesitantly, inviting.

I lay and sniffed the once repulsive socks of the man I detested. I found that without his feet in the socks, I could actually appreciate the subtle differences from his feet, my dad’s and mine. His by far were the smelliest but I felt I could cope. I rammed the socks against my face and breathed in Mr. Creepy’s scents. I felt faint. Not with joy as with my dad, no, with loathing.

I placed the socks of the villain on the bed table and moved stealthily towards the door crack and quiet voices, my small toes nearly floating on the plush carpet as I moved toward that crack, that portal to understanding.

I needed to know just what Harrison and dad did in this non-mum version of “adult time”.

And without moving too close the crack, knowing full well my face would show in the light from the living room, I stayed in the shadow of the door and peeped in...and saw the couch and my dad and Mr. Creepy!

Looking back now I could add all sorts of sexual in-depth commentary as to what I saw, but at that point in my early life it was all very visual and like watching animals at the zoo. Clinical yet intimate in a “that’s my dad and he’s mine” sort of way. My jealous rage against Harrison had to be quietened and put out of my reach. I just had to watch and grapple with the strange sights, sounds and behaviours. My eyes were glued to dad’s feet, of course...so very precious and all MINE!

I also drank in the conversation, understanding very little but taking it in for processing years later.

Harrison lit up and smoked, his now long, pointy bare feet atop the coffee table next to dad’s dark socked beauties. Harrison’s toes so bony and long with the nails looming over each slightly. The naked slender feet of Mr. Creepy jiggled and rocked, bumping into dad’s calm, regal feet from time to time. I wanted to scream out and stop the menace, and he was one, but I stood in the shadows of the bedroom door and watched, listened and fumed!

Smoke billowed and the cigarette passed to my dad’s outstretched fingers, another sin I blamed completely on Harrison’s bad influences. They sipped whiskey and laughed, the bottle half drained sat on the table near dad’s left foot. I watched and felt my small feet sweating madly as I began to shiver and shake with excitement and rage. I loved watching dad secretly, it thrilled me. But I felt hate lurking too, hate for Harrison and his power over my dad. He seemed to lead my dad astray, I just knew it.

The conversation came back to mum and the need for the doctor to sort out his foreskin troubles. The talk of a baby and much wicked laughter from Harrison made my dad seem solemn. Dad explained it was what my mother wanted and he must do his part. Harrison made smarmy comments and said something about saving up his seed (no idea what that was back then) for the baby project and no more air stewardess guests visiting the apartment. Dad laughed along but I knew he was just pandering to Harrison’s humour. The whole while I drank in dad’s socked feet. The light just catching them so, illuminating those fabulous sweaty toe imprints on both his feet from a full day in shoes. I was able to view his socked feet perfectly from my door crack position and just wanted to go and kneel by his feet but had to resist. It was so hard!

The unbuttoned dress shirt, slightly open at the neck revealed the very top of my dad’s glorious chest and the gentle furry forest of rusty golden hair that lived there. The bathrobe Harrison wore also revealed a chest strewn with dark hairs; the two men looked so relaxed lying against the couch back, feet up and next to one another. Harrison bent forward and filled dad’s glass again...was he trying to make daddy drunk? I would not have been surprised, Harrison was a demon.

Dad finished the cigarette and pushed it out in the large ashtray that sat near his feet. He lay back and sipped the refreshed drink.

“Harrison, you spoil me!” he said in a slightly slurred way. Dad was so tired from a day at work, the drive to NYC and now three or four drinks straight up. His eyes looked sleepy; he laid his head back against the couch more fully. He nearly spilled the drink.

Harrison grabbed the glass from my dad with his long skeletal hand and guided it to dad’s mouth.

“Drink up, Reggie. All the way down.” His voice crooned. I could have spit!

Dad obeyed and laughed as Harrison pulled the empty glass from his fingers and placed it upon the table next to the couch. Harrison loomed over dad who lay with his eyes closed and a smile upon his lips. His moustache wet with booze. He was tipsy and I was worried! I noted Mr. Creepy did not even have another drink, he was sober and completely in charge. I felt my heart jump to my throat and it thudded like a tom-tom.

What would Harrison do? Would he steal dad’s socks? I feared that. But he had the upper hand and that really bugged me, no, it terrified me!

The next move made me nearly jump out of my skin.

Harrison moved as close as possible to my dad’s side, they touched sides they were so close.

“Relax, Reggie. You sure Tony will stay put in there?” Harrison asked in his snake-like way.

“Mmm, he promised. He’s a good boy.” Daddy said without opening his eyes.

“Good, he better be!” Mr. Creepy added as he began to worm his fingers into the open place of where his shirt was unbuttoned. His skeletal hand working in and massaging under the silky dress shirt folds...touching my dad’s nipples! I was outraged. How dare he do that! My mind raced. I saw red!

Dad’s moist socked toes twitched in pleasure as he rested his meaty heels on the coffee table. That was what I saw happen to dad’s toes at the bottom of the bed when he had “adult time” with mum and I spied on them. Oh, dear. This was not good.

“Harrison, come on. I need sleep. We have work and the doctor tomorrow. I hurt down there, you know that.” Dad protested as he attempted to push Mr. Creepy’s busy fingers away from his nipples.

“Reggie, shut up. Relax. You said you’d show me your problem. You really should let me see. Come on, let Harrison help you.” The demonic man hissed. His hand moving all around dad’s furry chest, rubbing...making dad all mellow. I thought of pretending I was having a bad dream but that was causing a problem, not being quiet. I needed to help daddy, but how?

Harrison had no place looking at dad’s “problem”. I was sure of that!

Dad’s socked feet continued to quiver. Was enjoying this? Why? I was so confused and ready to leap out and save daddy from this evil man. I was sure he was going to hurt my dad and his foreskin.

I stood wondering, amazed and repulsed. My heart racing, wanting to see what horrid Harrison had in mind but knowing it was far too close to what mum and dad shared alone at night after I was supposedly asleep.

My daddy laughed, snorted and hooted softly...almost in Harrison big ear which seemed inches from dad’s open mouth.

“That tickles, you beast!” Daddy moaned. Harrison smiled like Satan and I could have sworn he grew horns like a ram. But that was in my very overactive mind and just a fanciful illusion.

A new horror suddenly dawned on me as I grew to see that Harrison was too much like me. I saw it and it struck home. We both wanted my dad, to control him...to own him and his amazing body and superb feet!

Harrison bony fingers of one hand played under the shirt while his other hand began massage dad’s trouser-clad leg...those lovely suit slacks of his still on. Harrison’s hand rubbed all along his leg from knee to hip, back and forth sweeping massage actions. Dad moaned softly as he eyes fluttered beneath the lids but remained shut. He was floating on the edge between sleep and obvious excitement. He could topple either way.

“I prefer it when we don’t entertain lady friends that flock to you so readily every time we travel, I like it like this, well, not with your son tagging along. I enjoy having this alone time between us. Maybe having picked up something from one of your female conquests will teach you a lesson. I am very clean!” Harrison said nearly nibbling my daddy’s ear.

Dad’s elegant dark socked feet rocked and wiggled as his words flowed in and obviously struck a chord.

“This is not from playing with friends, male or female. It just happens. And you would rather I only played with you. You are a selfish bastard, but I like you. Damn it! Now if only I can achieve my wife’s goal of a baby, all will be well. You just have to share me. And be very nice to Tony, he’s so very precious and absolutely unique! Be nice!” Daddy said in a very fierce but quiet way. His gorgeous blue eyes shut but Harrison looking at him as if they were making eye contact. The bony hands still working daddy’s body carefully and without hesitation.

“I hear you. You know I will do anything you ask. You have me under your spell, you have us all.” Harrison crooned and then dug his fingers deeply into my dad’s muscular inner thigh.

Dad jumped, his eyes fluttering but stayed pretty much in place. He stifled a cry, a whoop...a giggle. He raised his arms and cradled the back of his golden red-haired head; gentle perspiration now stained each underarm of his shirt. I knew those smells too. All of his smells were my passion.

“You beast, you know where to tickle me.” Daddy softly said as Harrison now worked his fingers all along daddy’s inner thigh, circles that widened and obviously must have bumped into dad’s trouser pouched balls. Dad’s hands remained clasped tightly behind his head, Harrison just kept at it. I knew I was witnessing a game, a game he played with Harrison...not me. I felt a hot tear move along my cheek as I watched.

What I saw was the sexual heat between them but it was not obvious to me then, not at all. I looked on as I did with mum and dad back home late at night. A Passive observer, scientifically analyzing it all...bodies, parts, reactions. But the excitement I felt was all about watching my beloved dad and his beautiful body and those magnificent feet. The other things were just happening and I did not have the tools yet to put it all together.  One thing became crystal clear to me in NYC that night, everybody seemed to want to “play, touch and tickle” my daddy. He was in high demand.

My tears rolled freely down my hot cheeks as I stood in the bedroom shadows. I heard dad proclaim my status as “precious” but obviously he liked to play with others. But the struggle was far from over. I might not be able to intervene tonight but I had every intention of being aware of any and all of my dad’s playtime activities. I had to know all, see all, and hear all. I would also collect any samples of his wonderful socks when possible. I intended to be the true “owner” of dad...even if I had to share him sometimes. I hated that fact, my own bare feet sweat like mad as I watched this event that unfolded before me. It truly was not what I wanted to see, but I had to know and I had to be able to be one step ahead of Harrison at all costs.

This pseudo wrestling match which was how I perceived it, was being sadly lost by my dad. He was tipsy, tired and probably very aroused by this attention he was getting.

The switch Harrison made from thigh grappling came swiftly with a comment from dad in a hushed partially giggly voice.

“Stop it. You’ll make me really sore if you carry on. I can’t get hard, stop, it hurts too much.”  He managed in his almost breathless way.

“Well, show me. You said you’d show me. Show me where it hurts.” Harrison chided as he moved his hand out of dad’s open shirt folds and rose up on his bony feet and knelt by the coffee table almost out of my sight. Dad’s lovely socked feet stayed on the table, shifting side to side as if in the breeze.

“Not now, I am too tired. Tomorrow.” He begged, eyes still shut and hands behind his head lying against the couch back in perfect repose. Harrison kneeling by his mid-section, eye to eye with his crotch. I wished dad would have come to bed, pushed him away. But he sat with hands behind his head and eyes closed. Too submissive! I sensed that. The one too many whiskey refills had seen to it. Harrison knew his game well! He knew dad’s weakness and he was all about playing to win.

“You’ll show me or I’ll...” Harrison said with that horsey face of his leering and he moved his bony hands to dad’s moist socked feet just within reach. He grabbed my dad’s nearest foot and held it fast, tight like an industrial strength clamp with one hand and began to use those long fingers on the other hand to make my dad give in!

Those long bony fingers of his with sharp nails to match attacked dad’s foot below the toes, the sensitive ball of the foot. Dad’s delicious area below his toes, I knew so well, soft and full...meaty and highly ticklish! Dad gulped air in like a fish tossed from the sea, breathing rapidly and trying to not make too much noise to “wake me”. The surprised laughing fit he stifled but Harrison whooped in glee. He pushed his face close to my dad’s aromatic black tight fitting sock and really dug his fingers in and strummed madly. I could feel the heat of the friction as if I were doing it myself.

My dad, my feet to tickle and sniff, my place to be....Harrison was there and loving it. He relished it like a day at the races and his dark beady eyes seemed to glow in the lamp light. He owned my dad at that moment...the tears of rage gushed anew from my swollen eyes.

Dad wriggled and moaned and sighed. He wanted to yell. His face, handsome and elegant...now beet red and suppressing so much emotion, so much elation. He loved being tickled. I knew it. But by Harrison?  I was in shock. I had no idea they played tickle games like this. Dad’s free socked foot bounced and banged the wooden topped coffee table. He seemed to struggle to be free of the tickling fingers only so much, he should have fought harder but he did not. His strong arms remained behind his now tousled head of hair. The rules were clear, obviously daddy had to obey the tickle-master...Harrison. I fell to my knees, crumpled to be exact. The carpet was soft and I made no sound. I watched, I cried and I swore revenge!

Harrison kept digging and strumming that space below daddy’s toes and, and I knew he was, sniffing madly at his socked foot. I saw his nose fluttering and flaring as he drank in the wonderful scent of my dad’s foot, newly perspiring from the heated ticking...that delicious aroma that comes from stress and strain. Daddy’s manly musky perfume all for Harrison.

I knew what Harrison was sensing, feeling and experiencing. His heart was racing, his pulse thumping and a faint euphoria causing sharp intakes of breath. I saw it in Harrison now as I saw it in myself many times before when I played with dad’s feet. Harrison and I were alike, so alike. That’s why he tossed me his socks. He drank in the fact I massaged dad’s feet earlier. He knows what I am and I know what he is. We are foot lovers. I was not alone in this fixation of mine. But of all the people in the world to share this with, Harrison, and he was centre stage right now and I was in the wings watching. I shook all over.

Dad by now was wide-eyed and gasping for every breath.

Harrison was cradling dad’s moist socked foot and nearly hugging it to his face as he strummed his bony fingers away and caused my daddy to utter the necessary words.

“OK! You win! You WIN! I’ll show you. Just stop. NOW!” He begged as I edged closer to the crack of the door. My own breath coming in sharp intakes.

Harrison nuzzled dad’s socked foot against his ugly face and planted a kiss on dad’s big toe. I had never imagined this coming from Harrison, kissing daddy’s feet. The anger surged up in me. He was brazen and all over my dad! I could almost see the wonderful leathery musky scent of dad’s sculptured socked foot wafting up into his greedy nose! He just drank it in! His eyes were wild with hunger for everything that was Reggie!

“Good, I knew you’d give in. You always do Reggie, you always do!” Mr. Creepy said releasing dad’s socked foot as he resumed his place next to dad on the couch.

Dad went to unclasp his hands from behind his head and Harrison stopped him.

“Relax, Reggie. I think I know how to undo your zipper.” And he moved those bony fingers to dad’s crotch and I heard the sound of the zipper faintly. I gulped for breath, was I going to pass out? I continued to shake like a leaf and sweat all over. Harrison’s bespectacled eyes were right over my dad’s fly folds and he next began to undo dad’s belt buckle and trouser button.

“I need a good look, let’s get these off you.” He said cunningly and dad closed his blue eyes and just let him have his way. My hands turned to small fists and I bit my tongue, hard! I thought my heart was going to beat right out of my chest.

“Be gentle, it hurts.” Dad said quietly and almost in prayer.

Dad’s size 11 feet slid off the coffee table as Harrison began to pull dad’s trousers and tight underwear down his long cycle-toned golden furry legs.

“Reggie, the doctor has to see it. Why not me? I think this is familiar territory. I have stripped you many times, old boy, many times!” And as Harrison intoned these words he pulled the clothing wad over dad’s now raised sweaty socked feet that waved in the air at me like two flags of surrender. His sweaty toe imprints so visible now to me on the dark fabric surface and so perfect in the lamplight of the room.

Oh, poor daddy!

The trousers and underwear fell away onto the carpet, for a moment dad’s naked legs and socked feet stayed up in the air as Harrison gazed upon his idol.

The ravenous look in Harrison’s eyes was like a starving man at a banquette. Things to enjoy everywhere, oh, where to begin?

Dad’s socked feet quivered slightly in the air as my heart rate soared and my eyes blurred over with tears...Harrison’s wormy fingers were now grasping dad’s right sock.

“I’ll take these off, Reggie. They feel so silky.”

More of my life to come! Thank you all for your feedback and kind words, love to hear from youXX Tony:-)