Vo-Tech
Submitted on 01/16/06
During the years while I was in high school, I also attended a vocational
technical school to pursue an education in Commercial Art. It was an
interesting time for me as I felt less inhibited at Vo-Tech than I did at my
high school (or what we called home school). My class was made up of
students from about twenty five schools. I was one of three students from
my home school- -it was myself, and two girls, one named Erika and the other
named Tina. I was a good boy up until the spring time, when most of the
girls started to wear sandals and flip-flops. It was an era of tube tops,
hot pants, hip huggers, candies sandals, etc. I was always getting
spontaneous hard-ons and could not keep my eyes from wandering down at
beautiful toes. The girls quickly noticed my affinity for their peds but
never felt much compunction to call me on it- -at least not at first.
The Art teachers had handed out a syllabus which foretold of anatomical
studies which included heads, bodies, hands and feet. Eventually, the day
came when we were to study feet and I was all keyed up in anticipation. It
became obvious after a couple of months that each of us had our areas of
expertise with drawing certain subjects or using particular media. Mine
happened to be in drawing the human form. The teachers had us all gather at
one end of the classroom, all seated on the floor. Given that I had already
proven my prowess at illustrating hands and faces, the teacher then picked
on me to participate in the lesson. I had no idea what I was in store for.
She called me over to where she was sitting on a stool, in front of the
class, and commanded me to sit on the floor, right in front of her. My
pants tented up immediately, being in such close proximity to her feet even
though she was wearing penny loafers. She told me to remove her loafers and
then she placed her feet on my lap. As she started to discuss the anatomy
of the human foot, the skeletal structure as well as the muscular
composition, she flexed her toes open and closed, cracking them as they
became limber. The pressure in my lap, the incredible view of her crimson,
almost black painted nails and long slender toes, the intoxicating
stench- -it was quickly becoming too much for me and it was causing me to
lose focus. She looked down at me and saw me staring at her feet and said,
"they shouldn't smell, I washed them", to which I replied, "no problem."
With my hard-on, my pants looked ridiculous. A couple of girls who already
suspected my weakness, began to giggle at my comment- -their suspicions
confirmed. The teacher told me to take hold of her foot. Then she
commanded me to close my eyes and study her foot with my fingers- -as I sat
with my eyes close, kneading her toes, she drove home her point that we
should not just look, but to use all of our senses to "see". She maintained
that the ability to illustrate wasn't in the hand but in the brain. She
told the class to break off into pairs, to remove their shoes and socks and
draw each other's feet. I was to grab my drawing board and she would
continue to be my partner. I took my seat at my desk while the instructor
sat in front of my desk on another chair, propped her right foot upon my
desk, 12 inches from my face. Her left foot, she placed on my right knee
(which was possible because the desks were just little tables with chairs
affixed to them). I was forced to adjust myself in my pants because I was
in pain- -she pretended not to notice. It was beautiful- -I had a license
to blatantly study her incredible, mature toes and sole as she approvingly
watched me. I got the distinct impression that she knew me and was playing
me. As I would glance downward at my paper to draw, I would bend my head
downward to get as close as I could to her foot and to breathe in as much
foot odor as possible. At one point, she turned to pull something from her
desk and pointed her foot at the same moment. While she was turned away, I
bent forward and took a quick whiff. As she turned back, her toes lifted,
touching my lips and nose to which she smiled and apologized. I replied,
"no, it was my fault. Guess I was concentrating and not paying attention."
In another ten minutes, the bell rang and the session ended.
A couple of days later, Nancy, a fellow student from another high school,
was sitting behind me and had taken her feet out of her flip-flops. With
her feet propped up on the horizontal bar of the desk, she was madly drawing
away. I noticed her bare feet inches behind my waist as I sat in my seat,
alternately flexing to a song faintly playing on a radio in the classroom
and dropped my French curve template on the floor on purpose. As I reached
down to pick it up, my face was almost in contact with her pungent, large,
chunky, curled toes. As I struggled to pick up my template which tightly
hugged the floor, I made use of my proximity to drink up the smell of her
feet. She may have felt my breath upon her toes because she quickly planted
her left sticky foot directly upon my face and kicked me away asking, "What
the hell are you doing?" Well, my curve was still laying flat against the
floor as I hadn't been successful in getting it off the floor. I told her
of this and she decided to use her long fingernails to pick my curve off the
floor and then she apologized to me for being so harsh to which I replied,
"that's okay." I noticed that Beth was quietly overseeing this entire
event.
Daily, I would inspect Beth's feet as she had exaggerated hammer toes and
when she walked barefooted, you could quietly hear the nails on those hooked
toes click against the floor. I was impressed by this and became
preoccupied by her feet. She caught me on numerous occasions, studying her
feet. On one particular occasion, we were told to sit down with a stack of
magazines and to cut pictures out of them. We were building an artist's
"morgue", a device of research that helps aid artists to draw things that
they are unfamiliar with. Only a pair of students were allowed into the
closet at a time to do this chore, due to the small size of the closet. As
I was chosen to build my morgue, Beth quickly volunteered. I sat on the
floor next to my stack with my scissors and she sat beside me to my right in
the opposite direction- -her sitting next to my sneakered feet and her
sandaled feet next to my waist. Our knees were bent as it wasn't a very big
room. After about ten minutes, I kept glancing over at those beautiful
long, slender hammer toes. She took her sandals off, claiming that her
knees hurt being bent for a long period, and lifted her bare feet up onto
the metal cabinet that I was leaning against. Her feet were right beside my
right ear and I could easily smell the leather of her sandals and the sweat
between her toes and my pants tented. She quickly pulled her foot away from
the cabinet, flexing her toes open an closed directly in front of my face,
only a couple of inches from my nose. She was wincing, claiming that she
had a cramp in her foot. She quietly said, "oooh cramp! Ow that hurts!" I
was completely mesmerized by looking at the underside of her foot that I had
dreamed about for so long. I got to staring at those clenching hammer toes
and lost track of what she was saying. The dancing toes came closer to my
nose, moment by moment. Then I could feel the heat wafting from her toes as
they flexed. Her toes stopped moving as they contacted and enveloped my
nose. I almost came in my pants as my eyes focused beyond her toes to glean
her expression. She had a broad smile as she explained, "I kept asking if
you would massage my foot to help me with my cramp but I guess you didn't
hear me. You were too busy staring at my toes. I have noticed your
infatuation with my feet and wondered how far it went. Now I know. Does it
bother you if I step on your face?" Wide-eyed, I quickly shook my head
sideways. She stated, "I know. I still expect that massage." Her foot
rotated to a vertical orientation, and then stepped hard upon my chin as she
curled her toes hard against my lips. She said, "Open up and stick out that
tongue." As I did so, she wiped the underside of her wonderfully hooked
toes over my tongue and then stopped to force the clefts between her toes up
and down my tongue, cleaning the jam from between her sticky toes. Her head
was rocked backward against her cabinet, as she closed her eyes and appeared
to orgasm. She quietly exclaimed, "Wow, wow, ooooo, that feels Wonderful!"
She put her second foot to my face and started jamming toes into my mouth
saying, "Oh my God, that is incredible!" All of the sudden, I felt
incredible pressure on my groin. She had reached between my legs and was
gripping me with her right hand. "Well, aren't we excited?" As she rubbed
me, I focused on those unique hammer toes. Those beautiful hammer toes had
a profound gripping ability that I found consuming. I worked her toes over
and grinded against her hand. As the bell sounded, she said, "Thank you,
that was very nice." I retorted, "no, that was wonderful and thank you!
Oh, please don't tell anyone. I'll be embarrassed."
About two weeks later, we were studying photography. We had taken a bunch
of pictures with the school camera and were slated to spend time in the
darkroom practicing film development techniques. There was a special
revolving door that only allowed one person into the chamber at a time but
always kept light out. I entered the chamber, spun the door and exited the
doorway into the darkroom. My eyes hadn't adjusted yet and consequently, I
was temporarily blind. I thought that I heard Erika. She said, "Oh wait,
let me help you before you stumble into something and hurt yourself." She
grabbed my hands and pulled me forward. Then she spun me around and said,
"sit right there." She stepped on top of both of my feet and pushed me
backward without releasing her grip on my wrists. With my feet locked to
the floor, I fell straight to the floor roughly. As I contacted the floor,
my back also contacted the legs of another stool. She said, "Woops, are you
alright?" I said, "yes, I guess I missed the stool." She laughed and
countered, "no, you weren't supposed to sit on a stool." All of the sudden,
I felt a pressure clamping in on the sides of my head. I smelled something
foul but also familiar. It was Beth. She was sitting on the stool above
and behind me with her shoes off already. When I was forced to the floor,
she turned her feet inward and pressed them to the sides of my face with her
heels at my ears, she commenced wrapping her feet to my face until she
curled her toes to my lips, forcing them into my mouth. I recognized the
smell and the hammer toes, even in the dark. Also, she said, "Hi Frank,
ready for round two?" Erika continued to hold my wrists as Beth mauled my
face. Then I heard Erika say, "okay, my turn." I worked my hard-on against
my pants in anticipation. Beth said, "Let me have those wrists". I didn't
resist as they handed off. Beth stepped down onto my hard-on and ground
against it very gratifyingly as Erika brought over a stool and placed it
directly in front of me. As my eyes adjusted, I saw her slip off her
sandals, turn the soles of her feet inward and put the soles of her feet
together. Then she pulled back her toes so that she would cover my face in
toes. She brought her feet to my face and gripped it heartily saying, "this
is fun." After playing with my cheeks and forcing me to breathe between her
gooey toes, she brought her toes together and lined them up, preparing to
force all of her toes into my mouth. Her feet being vertical, hurt my mouth
to open that wide, but she succeeded in forcing them in. She wiggled her
toes, looking for my tongue. She said, "Force your tongue between my toes."
As I put my tongue between her toes, she wiggled them forcefully, and then
would trap my tongue between her clenching toes. She did this again and
again as I forced my tongue between different sets of toes. Meanwhile, Beth
used her prehensile-like toes to grip my shaft. Erika's feet were very
tasty and I must have sucked on them for fifteen minutes. Beth eventually
made me cum in my pants which forced my breathing to become labored as I
attempted to force adequate air past Erika's feet. Soon after, a knock came
at the door and it began to spin. The girls let go of me and let me up. We
all pretended that we were setting up an enlarging head in order to expose
some shots.
The girls continued to torment me with their toes, grabbing my belt from
behind and curling their toes over the top of my beltline, trying to
playfully pull down my pants by reaching forward, through their desk with
their feet. They even ganged up on me by having a girl who sat beside me,
knock something off my desk, and then as I would reach down to pick it up
off the floor, the girl behind me would stretch her legs out through her
desk, placing her bare feet and wiggling toes between me and my implement on
the floor. As I would reach down, she would line her toes up with my mouth,
making it impossible for me to concentrate on my task. All of the girls
involved felt that they had accomplished something if I obliged by stealing
a quick lick. With them all giggling in delight, I would then be allowed to
pick up my implement.
Once, Erika even got so brazen as to embarrass me while we were riding on
the bus from home school to Vo-Tech which took about fifteen minutes. She
sat directly behind me and we were both at about the middle of the bus. A
couple of minutes after the bus got going, she slid her feet out of her
sandals and lifted her bare feet up just behind my head, one on either side,
just beyond my vision. I heard people laughing for about a minute before
she attacked me but I didn't know why. She apparently had paused them
there, waiting for people's attention to gather before she struck. Then it
happened. Before I could react, she brought both feet out in front of my
face, turned the the toes inward across the front of my face, and then
lifted her toes so that the tops of her feet and toes wrapped over my face.
She pulled forcefully, causing my head to bend backward and lift, such that
I was looking at the roof of the bus. She hooked her right big toe under my
nose. She then hooked her left foot under my chin. With my head held
firmly in place, she then lifted her body up off the seat a ways, giving her
a better vantage point to where she could turn her right foot to plant it
sole down, on my cheek and cup her toes over my nose. She gripped it very
hard and pushed my face left and right using her toehold on my nose. I
heard wild laughter throughout the bus. I can't explain my embarrassment.
Suicide didn't seem so far fetched at that moment. It suddenly occurred to
me that I could pry her feet from my face if I gripped her little toes and
pulled. Sensing that I was willing to break her toes, she quickly let go,
dropped her feet and put her sandals back on. Completely indignant, I
turned and asked her why she just did that to me when we are friends. She
coolly responded, "I just made fifty dollars and I knew that you would enjoy
it."
About a week later, another girl (she was about 400 lbs. and a number of my
friends always made fun her) who saw Erika's foot assault, was getting on
the bus directly in front of me when she stopped, slipped her foot out of
her flip-flop, hiked her chunky foot with its pudgy little digits right into
the path of my face as I prepared to climb the stairs behind her. I stopped
my ascent when I noticed that something was wrong, with my face just an inch
from her foot. I studied her clean, snow white sole, and the charm that
dangled from her ankle bracelet. As I looked up at her to tell her to keep
going, she laughed and said, "Come on Frank, give us a quick little lick."
With that, she pushed her leg backward and planted her foot with her left
heel in my left eye and her toes across my mouth and down to my chin. Her
foot sweat made my face wet and the smell of her toes was left on my face.
Without thinking and sensing that the opportunity to taste a fat woman's
foot would never come again, I quickly darted my tongue into the area under
her toes. I quickly rationalized that her foot was already wet and that she
might not figure it out. I then backed up and acted pissed off. I told her
to knock it off and get going. I smelled her foot funk for the rest of the
afternoon. I got hard every time I thought about it. It was fruitful
getting the taste of her foot that I got. I even got some toe jam that I
got to play with in my mouth for a while before it disintegrated. Although
there were enough girls who knew about my love of feet, I think (hope) that
my more embarrassing moments were perceived as my just being a victim of
harmless play. I must say though, at my ten year reunion, there was a girl
who I talked to, who while getting a drink at the bar, who reminded me of
Erika's attack on the bus. She asked me if I remembered. Oh, my God! How
could I forget!!
From your fellow foot fetisher, Toesuckr