But he wasn’t like a cool 80’s narcissistic Wallstreet stockbroker.  No, my mother’s second husband was a work-shy loser who did nothing but lose money betting on horses.  And mom, being somewhat of a loser herself, always did as she was told by this abusive gambling addict.  Not me though.  I was the tall, handsome teenager with a tendency to blow off school and staying out late … and this, of course, led to thrashings with a leather antique riding crop. I’m not kidding. 

One time Hank (my stepdad) even mutilated my trendy haircut with kitchen scissors. For a hormone-ridden, vanity-filled high schooler, this act was worse than a physical beating. 

Still, the girls were all over me. 

Some of them weren't even girls.

At the mall I caught the eye of a guy called Jeff.  He was twenty-something, almost a decade older than me. Soon enough he was plying me with Long Island Ice Teas (and I wasn’t a drinker) and inviting me out to a free rock concert at the beach.  But, of course, he had to stop at a one-star motel en route!   When I got home, I told Hank everything.  Instead of swearing vengeance against the troglodyte who’d taken advantage of his stepson, he gave ME the riot act!   I got so angry that I yelled right back at him.

Then he slugged me right on the jaw and knocked me unconscious.   By the time I came to he was just beginning to get off on my feet!  I’m not kidding.

He had knelt down to the floor and had taken hold of my foot. He had removed my Adidas and was kneading the foot through the cotton sock … first the heel, then the instep, finally the toes. As I slowly got my bearings, I straightened my leg. It had the effect of sliding my foot forward, so I could nestle it firmly on his crotch.  My stepdad gasped in pleasant shock.  He began to gently kiss my socked toes.  This made ME pleasantly gasp.

"Wh-what are you doing?" I said, mind whirling.  Then I got bold, "You’ve been waiting to do this for a long time, huh?"

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"You like rubbing my feet?   You can admit it.  I admit that I like the feeling of having my feet rubbed and stuff.   But this feels good to you, right?”   

He looked at me, face redder than a strawberry, “Yes…."

I wiggled my toes on his now tented and heated crotch. "Take off my other sneak and my socks..."

"I-I don’t know if I should..."

"Hurry up, Hank!" I said, urgently as I glanced at my watch.  I had a headache from getting jaw-clipped, but I pushed pass the pain because I was getting as hot as my stepdad clearly was. "Mom’s going to be back soon!"

I lifted my other foot slightly off the floor for him, and my sneaker came off quite easily when Hank tugged at it. He set it to one side and stared down at both my socked feet as if hypnotized. Eventually he took off my slightly sweaty socks, carefully rolling up each one and putting them neatly into my sneakers. This intimate act got me so hot that I didn't even tell him to hurry up or give him another warning about how soon Mom would be coming back.

For what seemed like the longest time, my stepdad just stared down at my bare feet.

"Back when I met you and your Mom I swear you had bony, funny-looking feet. I mean, you looked good everywhere else, but your feet as a kid was where your perfection ended," He said quietly as he stroked the tops of my feet ever so tenderly. "But I noticed some time ago that your feet are now perfect!  No callouses, clean manicured nails, well-shaped toes, soles that are just wrinkly enough … I didn’t think people could grow INTO great-looking feet!"

My body was all charged with electricity as my stepdad’s rough hands caressed my tender soles and toes now.  Hank practically drooled while he was fondling my feet.   I don’t blame him really.  My feet really were good-looking. No veins sticking up or anything like that.

"You really take good care of these," he said, "Nails are clipped right down, and scent is sweaty but not a foul odor. I haven't been close enough to them to smell them since we used to sleep head to foot when I took you and your mom camping up at Sulfur Springs. 

Then he suddenly leaned down and took a deep whiff of my bare feet.

"Ahhhhhh ... like the smell of a fresh easterly breeze off Lake Shasta…" Hank said. Then he boldly kissed each of my toes in turn and sucked several into his mouth. He ran his tongue along my insteps and nibbled at my heels. Straddling each foot, he massaged them. He ground his face into my bare soles, blissful sighs escaping his lips and mine at the touch.

I had to tell him to stop for a second because I  nearly shot my load into my pants! When I managed to get myself back to normal he took my heel in one hand and kissed each of my toes again ... one after the other, feather light little touches that made me shiver. Inch by slow inch, Hank caressed my skin with lips and tongue and fingers--up one foot and down the other.

"Hoooooo-weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee ...!" He seemed to purr with pleasure as I settled one bare foot down on him again, caressing and playing gently with the erection through his trousers.

"OOOOhhhhh!" said Hank after only a few moments of me doing that. "I just did it in my pants! I couldn't help it!"

And it was a good thing, cause Mom returned home just after he stood up. She didn't even ask why I was sitting there barefoot right then.  While Hank made some nervous excuse to leave right then, my mind was spinning as I tried to think of a way for my stepdad and me to continue the fun we started….

To be continued