The weeknight began like any other of that period of my life. Dad home, time spent relaxing in the living room, glorious footsy fun under the dining table as we ate...all so normal. I vividly recall he was wearing tight navy blue OTC gold-toes that eventful night. It was all very normal until we went upstairs and I attempted to assist him in his routine tub time strip; me being in charge of sock removals and dirty clothes gathering. He stopped me just after I pulled those delightfully aromatic socks from his shapely moist size 11’s. The moist fabric felt exciting in my hands and the workaday smell pleasantly wafted upwards and filled my sinuses. I swooned, as I normally did, my heart accelerating in sheer glee. Dad stood up from the bed but did not pull off his underwear and toss it to me for the clothes basket. The black bikini-style underpants stayed on. I looked and a question formed on my lips. Dad beat me.

“I need to do my bath on my own tonight. No helper, Tony. Sorry, sometimes I just need to be on my own.” He said in a sorry tone with those blue eyes looking at me with concern. His moustache twitched in a nervous way. He stood, transferring weight from one big naked foot to the other. My eyes watching and drinking in his feet with each change he made.

“What’s wrong? Take off your underwear. I will put them in the laundry clothes basket. I always do.” I said reaching my hand out to receive the pair of black underwear while I clutched the precious silky socks with the other.

“No, Tony. I can’t take them off tonight. I have a bit of a problem.” He added mournfully. He strode forward on his big bare feet, his muscular ass covered in black tight fabric waltzed by me as he moved. I followed, whiffing the lovely socks discreetly as we moved to the bathroom. My mind torn in two, love those silky socks or question his so-called, problem. I went for the problem.

“What kind of problem, daddy?” I asked as he tried to shut the bathroom door and keep me out.

“A man problem. Not serious, just painful.” He added carefully. He again tried to keep me out by gently pushing my chest towards my own room.

“I want to know. Tell me.” I said in my own bossy way.

“It’s not serious, it’s my foreskin. It sometimes gets a bit sensitive and swollen.” He said looking at me like I was a doctor in training. I ran the worn socks thoughtfully past my nose as I pondered his words.

“Well, I don’t have one. Mine is gone. I did not see anything strange last night when you had your bath.” I said thoughtfully and almost professionally.

“Well Doctor Tony, I only felt it get painful, swollen and itchy today. And years ago it happened and I needed some special cream to help. Does that answer your medical concerns?” He added with a hearty laugh and I knew dad was not in too much pain.

With that he snatched the aromatic socks out of my hand and moved to shut the door.

“Wait, I want to see. Show me the foreskin?” I was fascinated and completely on a non sexual level. It was educational and plus being “cut” meant I had no experiences with foreskin other than seeing my dad’s each day.

“Let me take my bath, I’ll let mum have a look later if that will make you feel better. OK?” He asked almost pleading with me. Well, if mum got involved it would be a more involved exam and so I settled for it. The door closed and I set off to alert mum to be ready to be a “nurse”, daddy had a problem.

I marched down the stairs and left dad to run his bath in private. Mum would be shocked to see me, I always stayed with dad. The sounds coming from the kitchen were typical. Mum banging around putting things away.

I entered through the hall door into the kitchen near the stairs. I startled her and she spun around.

“I thought you’d be pestering your dad. Are you OK?” She asked drying up a saucer.

Her matronly hands busy with a large tea towel. Her eyes peering my way and sharp as ever.

“No, mum. I am fine. Dad has a swollen foreskin. He did not want any company tonight. He said you can look at it later.” I said in a matter of fact tone as if I’d asked for a cookie.

I could still smell my dad’s sock scents all over my fingers; I steadily massaged my nose with those smelly fingers as I talked to mum.

She finished her drying up chores and moved to the living room with me, her apron all frills and lace. Her mind elsewhere as she sat and looked at me.

“Nothing to worry yourself about. These things happen from time to time with your dad. He’s fine. Just needs a check. He had a good friend and doctor in NYC he knows from years of communing back and forth to the office on Fifth Avenue from here. He needs to go to the New York office this month; he’ll go sooner and have it checked out. You’ll see...no worries.” She said vaguely as she looked through me, not at me.

The sound of his padding about on his bare feet above us in the master bedroom broke the moment. His tub was short tonight, he was in the bedroom. Mum, grabbing her reading glasses from the coffee table, moved quickly up the stairs to “examine” him. She did not even notice me trailing alone like a dog. I was certain dad needed me. Mum had that look, the “don’t cross me” expression on her face. And those dark rimmed reading glasses in made her look almost like a librarian, and I knew only bitchy ones at that stage of my life. Look at daddy...I thought to myself with a shiver.

Mother, apron flying, high heels pumping moved to the bedroom...dad naked and waiting.

I stood just behind mum, the door pushed closed but not fully. I stood outside and my eyes became that of a stick insect and felt like they were on stalks and my ears on high alert. I needed to know all if it concerned my dad!

I heard whispers and tried to discern what I could. I grew so still.

Dad voiced concern over me. Mum hushed him. Her concern was voiced, now I understand it, but then I had no clue. Her big worry was how this would affect the baby making. She lit into him like a mad woman. All under her breath but loud enough. I know now that mum wanted another child before she got too old but that was not to be but at that stage they were still trying, mum really working. Working dad, no doubt!

I moved on my own moist sock-clad feet and hovered by the crack of the bedroom door, I could just see in.

Dad stood by the bed, his body naked. I could see nothing wrong from my place but mum obviously had grave worries.

“Reggie, lay on the bed on your back. Let me see. I want to have good look.” She ordered and adjusted her glasses. She looked ready for business. She titled the lampshade by the bed, it created a spotlight theatrical effect and my handsome moustached dad moved into the glow. His fit naked six-foot form with that rusty -gold furry covered look and appearing almost godlike by lamplight moved to lie according to mum’s demands...and his big fleshy size 11 bare feet now faced me fully....BLISS!

I stood with my heart thumping, I loved to see dad’s feet like this on the bed. Perfection! Dad and mum seemed oblivious to the slightly open door...that was even better. I could now see pretty well and hear all!

Dad’s big size 11’s stood side by side on the foot of the bed and looked slightly sweaty in the light. His pink newly bathed soles, smooth and supple stood like two soldiers on duty, his toes wiggling slightly in anticipation of “nurse” mum and her examination.

I could now see mum sitting alongside dad’s naked body and her highly manicured finger-nailed hands moved to his penis, which lay in a heap below his rusty-golden pubic nest. I could not see the actual medical issue with his foreskin other than the fact he yelped helplessly as mum prodded it with her fingertips.

“Ouch, you can see it is red and puffy. Be gentle!” Dad said in a rather hushed tone. Both he and mum still unaware I was just outside the partly closed door.

More moans and groans as mum did her standard tut-tut sound.

“This is bad. I knew this might happen, now when we least need it. Damn it!” Mum said in a peevish tone. Her librarian's reading glasses peering down at dad’s manhood like a specimen in a laboratory.

Dad’s feet began to jiggle impatiently; obviously the pain of her touching his swollen skin was making him jump about. I watched those beloved bare feet dance, but it was not joy, it was pain!

“You’ll go to New York City this week and see to it. We must stay on track! This will only delay things. Make the appointment. Do it Friday and visit the office there for a few hours, make a reason to go. Be back Sunday. That should work!” Mum said huffing in a disapproving way and making demands as per normal. This so-called “baby making” was now on my private list to find out more about and indeed, in time, I would!

Mum stood up, I vanished into my room like the stealth king I was slowly becoming. Mum took off down the stairs. I worked my way back to my dad who now lay under the covers and looked a bit sulky.

“Are you ok?” I asked quietly.

He smiled, his handsome face looking up at me from the pillows. His neatly combed, still wet reddish hair laid slicked back and almost perfectly styled. I really adored him!

“Yes, mum has figured it all out and I shall see my old buddy Doctor Carlyle this week, maybe Friday afternoon and spend a bit of time in the New York office. It will be fine. Trust me.” He said smiling and his blue eyes twinkling.

Now after my experience with creepy, Harrison, dad’s PA, I knew I had to go along. A strange doctor (at least to me) examining dad, my dad and his amazing feet, my beloved feet...I had to be there. Plus Harrison would go to NYC with dad, another reason to go. My mind whirled into high gear and I began to plot. No way did I want dad alone with creepy Harrison who obviously liked dad’s feet, too!

“Dad, I want to go along. Please. You promised I could go again to NYC with you. I went once, ages ago. I could miss one day of school and go. Please!” I begged and sat at the foot of the bed and rubbed dad’s feet playfully through the covers.

I knew I’d win. I was so like mum, I could twist daddy around my little finger.

The plan was hatched. Leave Thursday night, arrive late and stay in the NYC rented apartment that was used for visiting clients and staff. I’d tag along with dad all day Friday and explore Manhattan a bit on Saturday and come back Sunday. Only Friday off from School, a little hooky never hurt anyone and this all hinged on this Doctor Carlyle having a slot Friday for dad to come in. And knowing dad, he’d work it out. And mum would agree, obviously her baby making project was vital and dad going to NYC was key. Mum would agree, reluctantly, and she did! The doctor was phoned the next day and all was set for a 2 PM appointment on Friday.

I went to bed that night pleased with my plot; my own small feet bouncing under the covers in gleeful anticipation of this trip with my dad. And knowing full well creepy Harrison would be in the car Thursday night when dad and I drove off to NYC...and he was. SHIT! But I was ready and he was pissed off! I was NOT in his plans, but I won and he lost. Dad was mine and I was in charge, well, as much as I could be. His classic body and perfect feet were MINE! All Mine!

 Thursday morning could not come soon enough and despite mum’s ho’s and hums about missing school, we got to the day of leaving and boy, was I keen!

That day I knew dad would be swinging by the house around 4 pm just to pick me up and I had to be ready and packed and also have his overnight bag with me on the front porch as well. And that morning during my “get dad ready for work” time I noted the fabulous choice of socks mum had picked out for his day at the office. These long, sleek solid black OTC socks looked amazing as I aided my dad in pulling them on over each of his cooperative big feet. I nearly lost my train of thought as I watched him strut about on those sleek black socks before he slipped on his best black leather lace-up shoes.

Dad left early and I had a few minutes to myself before I left for school. I noted dad’s overnight bag on the floor in the bedroom and it was all packed for the next few days. He’d wear the same black suit coat and trousers but mum had all the other essentials all set inside. I poked my nose in the leather suitcase and pulled it open fully. I saw three pairs of socks all picked out. A causal pair of white crew socks for Sunday and the more casual outfit to travel home in. But I looked with close scrutiny at the other choices mum had made for dad. I plucked those out.

I would pick his Friday and Saturday socks. I knew what I wanted to see him wear to the doctor’s office, his delicate sheer socks. That idea appealed to me. I knew dad would no doubt strip off for the doctor based on the reason he was going in the first place. Those socks would be ideal and show his big feet off beautifully! His delicate wedding tuxedo style socks he’d shown me. He had a few pairs of that style deep in the sock drawer and I pulled free a pair of sheer sided, solid heel and toe cap style that was mid-calf and I knew it required elasticized calf sock garters and clips, thus I placed a set in the sock compartment of the suitcase and selected a racy pair of argyles with black and gold diamonds that were also mid-calf in length. They would do nicely on Saturday for our walk around the city. I pictured dad’s lovely feet in each of my choices and smiled broadly to myself!

Pleased with my choices I shut his suitcase and made my off to school. A little surprise for daddy as he unpacked tonight, all from me! And Harrison would be green with envy!

******

Manhattan Here We Come

I stood on the front porch like a sentry. My suitcase and dad’s side by side. I was dressed in my grey suit and black leather loafers. I knew I’d be tagging along with dad to his office and then the doctor; I needed to look as much like dad as possible. I even wore my clip-on bow tie! My socks were deep burgundy OTC with a woven gold-toe. I looked snappy!

Mum had left me to it and I was to ring the front door when dad arrived in his car. I was prepared for creepy Harrison to be seated in the passenger seat with that demonic oily hair style and glinting bald spot dome atop his pointing head. His aging face leering at me through those spectacles he wore. His thin lips sneering at me, I was ready. He obviously hated me and wished to hell I was not coming along, I was prepared!

My thin socks, now a few hours old, felt warm and squidgy in my tight loafers. I knew they’d smell like dad’s feet...not as nice but close even if a lot smaller!

The car pulled up and I saw Harrison immediately, the passenger window open and the remains of a cigarette being tossed away from his bony fingers. A final exhaled puff of disapproving smoke greeted me as the car stopped in front of the gate to our garden. He waved in a rather limp, lacklustre way and I smiled in triumph, I was coming and you can’t stop me was the thought that sailed through my mind.

Mum responded to my bell ring and did her routine of waving us off on our journey. The luggage and I were loaded in the back seat and off we charged to NYC. A stop was scheduled in Hartford for supper and then on to the apartment in Manhattan by 11 pm more or less.

Dad drove with skill. Everything daddy did, he did with charm, style and accuracy. Harrison sat in the front seat in the afternoon light looking smug. He thought I would be easy to be sidelined; maybe a few goodies bought for me would keep me quiet and out of his way...think again. I was in charge and he would be the one on the outs. It was my mission.

As I sat in the backseat, I dreamt of dad’s sleek feet tucked into those nice expensive leather shoes. Pushing the accelerator and break peddles, getting all moist and sweaty in those OTC socks I knew he had on. The scenery was rather dull from Massachusetts into Connecticut but I kept drifting in and out of sleep and thinking of dad and his visit to the doctor and me there with him...it all was too wonderful. At least, in my mind it was. I knew Harrison would be an issue, the question remained, how much of one?

The stop for a quick meal was easy at a highway restaurant. Not very busy. We sat in a big booth. Me and daddy on one side, creepy Harrison on the other. I kept looking down at the red carpet and seeing dad’s big feet next to mine. Harrison looked pointing and dangerous as they loomed opposite ours. His black polished shoes with pointed toes looked evil to me.

I gently slid my moist socked foot out of my shoe nearest dad’s feet and worked it over and atop his much bigger shoe clad foot. I tucked a French fry in my mouth, laden with ketchup and smirked at Harrison who sipped a martini cocktail. He could drink; dad had a cola like me. Dad was ahead of his time in the drinking&driving issue...it was the 1960’s and everybody seemed to get into their cars with too much liquor in them. Not my dad. I am thrilled to say!

I rubbed the full length of dad’s shoe with my wiggly socked foot and up along his socked ankle. Dad giggled, I giggled. I loved to be a little devil. We sipped cola through straws and ate our burgers as if this was an everyday outing. I felt very special despite the creepy man sitting opposite us in the booth.

 I worked my small, strong gold-toe encased toes all along one edge of dad’s shoe, I so wanted his socked foot free to play with mine under the table. All of a sudden, sharp socked toes...obviously long nailed, aggressively poked my foot away from my dad’s. I looked over at Harrison sipping his drink, eating his candied cherry...a creepy smirk on his unattractive long face. I looked below the table and saw, to my horror, his long size 13 or so socked foot atop my dad’s shoe. He’d knocked my small foot away. He knew it. Dad had no idea, or if he did, he just munched his burger. His handsome moustache twitching with each bite.

I sat, fuming. Harrison downed the rest of his drink. He had a plate of fried shrimp; he proceeded to munch them one by one. His brown socked foot never leaving my dad’s shoe top. I pushed my foot into his, his long sweaty sock never budged. I thwacked it hard with my burgundy socked heel. He did not even flinch. His face revealed nothing; war was raging under the table...his face remained cool and calm. The war was on for my dad’s attentions and I suddenly was losing.

I kept looking down under the table. I could faintly smell socks; leathery, warm, perfectly manly...the aroma rose up and tickled my nostrils. My scented socks, and creepy Harrison’s were melding their unique smells and that alone repulsed me. I had no desire to play footsy with him!

I kept trying to eat; I did not want my dad to get upset that I was having a “fight” with Harrison. I’d promised him I would not be “mean” to him. But this was really pushing my buttons, in all the bad ways!

Harrison’s big near 13 inch brown ribbed sock clad foot sat, exuding strong foot aromas atop my dad’s right foot. I could almost see the fragrant steam of his warm foot rising, in my mind of course, but I felt he was that powerful against me in my struggle to stay in charge of my dad and his feet. I munched a French fry thoughtfully. This was truly a power struggle. I could see Harrison’s pointy sharp toed sock twitching, goading me to try to challenge him again. It was like watching a sleek brown pointy nosed viper about to pounce on its prey. His socked foot both enticed me and scared me. I was lured in, my smaller burgundy sock clad foot edged forward...slowly.

I poked tentatively with my toes at the sharp beast resting on my prize, my dad’s shoe-clad foot. The beast was solid and would not budge. I sipped the last of my cola in silence. I slid my shoe back on. The beast slithered away and dad paid the bill.

A customary visit to the men’s room by all of us before we left was strange. I always peed in a stall, I liked the privacy. Dad always opted for the urinals. Tonight dad used the other stall next to mine; Harrison was left alone to pee in the larger space. I heard dad yelp as he made water, I knew his foreskin was hurting.

I heard something now that made me angry.

Harrison tiptoed around to dad’s stall door and spoke in a harsh whisper. I had no trouble hearing.

“You OK? Let me see.” Harrison said much to my horror.

Dad attempting a blasé tone replied. “I am just sore. Later, Harrison. Later.”

Harrison left the room after hand washing. I finished and washed my hands. I stood and waited, my mind racing. What did later mean? Was Harrison going to examine my dad’s foreskin? No way, I fumed. He was my dad; handsome head to slender supple toes...Harrison was a real enemy in my book!

The ride to the apartment in Manhattan was quiet and thoughtful. I knew I’d have to protect my daddy from Mr. Creepy! I watched the city appear, the many skyscrapers lit in the evening sky.  We drove; we sat in traffic and finally arrived at the lot about a block from the apartment building that we stayed in. The walk was short. I carried my own bag, dad his. Dad and I walked side by side...Lanky, tall Harrison lurked behind us. I made sure I was next to dad. Mr. Creepy loped alone watching, smoking and grinning. I knew he had more tricks up his sleeve...the creep!

We arrived at the swanky upper floor apartment after a ride in the elevator. The place had modern, sparse furnishings and one bedroom with twin beds and an open plan living room with kitchenette.

The bathroom was off the bedroom and the door to the bedroom was near the kitchen end of the apartment. The view was stunning and I immediately took in the city lights on show. I had been here once before and loved it.

I knew the couch pulled out into a bed as well. Sleeping three was easy, but the key was, who was where? Dad put his bag in the bedroom and I followed. Harrison plopped his overnight bag next to the coffee table...settled. Dad and I had the bedroom and Mr. Creepy was in the front room. Good! I was pleased with that.

I sat on my bed; I picked the one by the window. Dad unpacked his overnight bag on his bed. I suddenly remembered the socks I’d swapped and subsequently picked new ones...my breath got rapid and I was sure I’d pass out. What would daddy think of my choices? My rather elegant choices I dare say!

Dad, his ever laughing blue eyes twinkling held up the wedding style mid-calf sheer socks and the much needed garter set. He shook them at me, the sheer fabric and clips bouncing in his hand.

“You put these in! Tony, you are really something.” He chided with his cute moustache twitching.

“I know daddy, But I wanted you to look nice at the doctor tomorrow!” I added thoughtfully.

“He’s not going to care what socks I have on.” Daddy added placing the socks in the nearby dresser drawer.

The voice from the door to the bedroom made me jump.

“But Tony cares what socks you wear. He’s into that sort of thing obviously.” Mr. Creepy said leaning against the bedroom doorway and smoking in a carefree way. I noted he had removed his shoes and his long thin socked feet were busy massaging the plush carpeting as he stood, his toes digging in...a smile like a demon on his lips.

“I love it! He has good taste, a bit formal, but very good taste!” Daddy said finishing his unpacking.

“Get those shoes off Reggie and relax. No cocktail waitresses here tonight, but who cares!” Harrison said sauntering off. I had no idea what he meant about cocktail waitresses at that point in my life.

“What does he mean, daddy?” I asked moving over to stand by his bed. I had just pulled my own shoes off and the carpet did feel amazing under my silky socked feet.

“Never mind. Harrison likes to be naughty sometimes. And he’s being naughty to me!” Daddy said as he sat down on the bed and began to pull and tug at his shoelaces. Finally daddy was taking his leather shoes off; he’d been in them all day...a long day. I moved to kneel by his wonderful feet, his deliciously socked feet. I loved the socks he had on, those long sleek solid black OTC’s! I yanked as he pulled and with a gentle pop, each shoe slid from his feet. The aromatic scents filled the air around me, my face so close to those sleek socked feet I loved. I could see the sweaty imprints of his toes as I pulled the shoes away just before dad stood and said, “Ah, I love this carpet, feels so good under my feet!”

He strutted off, pulling himself free of his suit coat and tie. His big sexy feet moving along the plush carpet and I following, my smaller feet imitating my dad’s as best I could.

“Pour me a whisky, Harrison! I am ready to relax despite my little aches and pains!” Dad said as he moved toward the couch. Harrison was busy pouring a drink for them both. I wished Harrison was not with us. It really was not ideal. Dad flopped on the big couch and like magic, he propped those big dark socked feet upon the coffee table side by side resting on his meaty heels. I stopped and starred. I could not move... those socked feet just immobilized me like a ray gun in old science fiction movies. The very width and scope of each of his magnificent feet in those sleek solid black socks just made me swoon, and those sweat imprints of each of his very shapely toes...bliss!

The need to smell his feet moved me forward, my path was suddenly blocked, and Harrison stood in my way...drinks in hand. He stopped in front of daddy and was just above his socked feet. His fingers placing the drinks on the coffee table...too close I feared! My face flushed red heat. Too close! Damn him! He was always trying to touch my dad’s feet!

“I love these socks, Reggie! You always look great in these.” He said in a high pitched voice, was he mocking me? I was so angry. I felt my own toes dig deeply into the carpet pile.

Harrison bent forward, his long horse-like face looming near my dad’s socked toes.

“But they smell very manly, Reggie, not stinky or unclean, very manly!” He said as he cast a smugly superior look my way.

“And they feel so silky, too!” And with that, he stroked his bony fingers in an almost loving way all down one of my dad’s size 11 socked feet. I went nuts!

More memories to come! Thanks to all! Please keep writing me, TonyXX