Diary of a Foot Slut
Entry #2
(Posted on Saturday, April 13, 2001)
This story was submitted by Alice T.

Click here if you missed Diary of a Foot Slut, Entry #1

Wow. Since my first entry, I’ve gotten a huge response from all of you out there. I guess I should start telling you more about what happened. After that night at Trish’s, things weren’t the same. I never told Heather or Trish what happened (how could I?). Anyway, I don’t think Steve knew that I knew what was going on. I’d see him in the halls and he’d give me the same kind of shy glance that he always gave and then stare straight ahead and keep walking.

I probably seemed weird to him because everytime I would see him, I would kind of stare and think about what happened. I ran into Steve more recently, but I’ll save that incident for another time. After all, if this is a diary, I should keep things in order right? It was already a couple weeks after the sleepover, and so far the new school year was turning out to be a huge letdown compared to the excitement of that night.

I hate volleyball. If there’s no sand, no sun, and it doesn’t look like one of those Wrigley’s gum commercials, then how can it not suck? Especially when you’ve got a hard gymnasium floor instead of the sand. 4th period P.E. – oh let me count the ways it sucked. For one thing I had no friends in this hour gym. Heather and Trish were lucky enough to get 6th hour gym together. And also, my gym teacher of course had to be this drill squad dyke who was more muscular than the male gym teachers. She was always ripping on the girls and making comments because we were being “too girly.”

Well excuse me for being a girl. I’ve got nothing against lesbians – a good friend I’ve known since grade school happens to be one. But in this case I’ll make an exception – I’ve got everything against her. And what’s with volleyball? Can it be any more NOT fun under these situations? I don’t get how those professional guys you see on TV make it look so easy. When they hit the ball, it looks like it’s the size of a softball and like’s it’s all rubbery and soft. Of course in real life it’s much bigger and feels like a bowling ball wrapped in leather. I’d always leave gym with red, sore forearms and wrists.

So you’d figure with my luck, I would get beaned in the face or something during one of these games (it happens EVERY year). But that didn’t happen. There are these big metal poles that hold up the net when we play. They have these metal dome bases as well which have wheels so that you can move them easier. Now, keep in mind, I’m not some graceful dancer or anything like Heather or Trish. There was this moment where I actually decided to exert some effort and try to hit the ball.

Being the genius I am, I forget about the big dome bases of the poles (which take up a lot of space under both sides of the net). As I’m coming down from an attempted spike (which I missed), my right foot lands on the base, causing my clumsy ass to twist my ankle and fall down. Gym injuries are always fun. You definitely miss the rest of the gym period and possibly even are late to your next class. My ankle wasn’t that bad at all but I figured that I might as well milk it for what I could.

I was sent hobbling down to the fitness center.You see, upstairs we have the main gym. Downstairs we have the fitness center, which has weights, exercise bikes, and a track. I limped my way into the training room where the injured athletes get pampered and wrapped. I sat down on one of the padded tables and waited for service. There’s usually a whole line of klutzes sitting around with different injuries. It reminds me of movies where everytime you see a doctor’s waiting room, it’s got different people with different injuries – one with an arm in a sling, one with a head injury, and so on. Then suddenly in walks Eric.

Eric was three years older than me. He used to go to the school, but since he graduated, he would volunteer at the school down in the P.E. department because his major was like sports medicine or something. When Heather, Trish, and I were freshman and he was a senior, he dated Heather’s older sister (who was also a senior). I guess he was kind of cute. What I remember most was when they broke up. I guess it was kind of harsh. Heather would tell us all these stories of her sister and him fighting on the phone and stuff. I hadn’t seen much of him since then. And since I don’t frequent the training room that often, this is one of the few times that I’ve actually seen him.

“So what happened to you?” he asked.

I retold the whole spiel about the volleyball pole. He told me that he was surprised because so far I was the first volleyball ankle injury of the year. He said that usually there’s a couple every day. He grabs a chair and pulls it up to me. Meanwhile I’m sitting on the padded bench with my legs dangling.

“Which ankle did you say?” he asked.

“My right,” I said.

He sets my left foot on his right leg and carefully picks up my right ankle. He starts carefully untying my laces. Meanwhile, everytime I look at him he’s looking at me kind of funny. I didn’t think he recognized me.

“You look real familiar. Do I know you?” he asked.

“I don’t think so. Do you remember Amy? I’m friends with her little sister.” I explained.

“Oh, right. Now I remember. See I thought I recognized you, but it’s been a while since I saw you last. That was quite a while ago. I was still a senior here.” He said.

So we exchange small talk while he takes off my shoe and sock. My foot was kind of warm and a little sweaty and his hands were sort of clammy. He was starting to examine my ankle and then stopped.

“Do you mind if I take off your other shoe?” he asked.

“Why?” I asked. That was sort of a weird request.

“Your shoe is digging into my leg,” he replied.

“Oh shit, I’m sorry!” I apologized. Then he took off my other shoe and started taking off my sock too.

“Wait, what are you doing?” I asked.

“I’m just making you more comfortable,” he said. He smiled at me in this
slightly wicked way. For some reason I smiled back. Now I had both of my bare feet in his lap. He was doing the usual routine, “does this hurt – how about now” tests with my ankle. He started rotating my ankle slowly and even started massaging my foot a little. I guess it was apparent that I was digging it.

“Feel good?” he asked.

“Mmm-hmm,” I said.

“I really like your toenail polish.” He commented.

“Thank you.” I said. My toenails were painted purple and looked quite cute if I may say so myself. As I was admiring them I noticed something about Eric’s lap. His Adidas warm up pants appeared to be a little, shall we say, “tented?” I looked at him as he was just working on my ankle and foot. I was feeling a little daring, so I slid my foot further up his leg.

“Would you say my toes are cute or really cute?” I asked.

As soon as I said this, my foot made contact with his hardness. He jumped a little and stood right up. He started moving towards the cabinets in the room.

“I better wrap you up,” he said nervously.

I felt like I was in some cheesy porno. I extended my leg out to block his path.

“Keep doing what you were doing – my ankle hurts REALLY BAD!” I begged, trying to look miserable.

He sat back down and continued massaging. I slipped my foot up his leg and started giving him a massage. We did this for a couple of minutes. Meanwhile I was looking around the room and out into the fitness center. I didn’t see a single person. At this point he lifted my foot to his mouth and started licking my toes. I’ve never had anyone do this to my feet before. But the feeling of his tongue running along my toes was so cool. I started massaging a little harder with my foot. Then he took out his dick. He was definitely at attention. He brought both my feet down to his lap.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

He didn’t say anything. He wrapped both of my feet around his dick. I could still see the lines on my ankles from my socks and my feet were still a little sweaty. Then when he put both of my feet together, I felt how hot his dick was. The head of it was all red and there was already this clear pre-cum on the tip. Then he leaned over and spit in between my feet to lubricate his dick. There I was, in the training room at school with my feet wrapped around the dick of some guy. He started sliding it in between my feet slowly back and forth. The feeling of his cock rubbing between my soles was driving me nuts. I put my hand down my shorts and started touching myself.

“You have to hurry up.” I said in a half whisper.

“I know, I know.” He said, his breath getting quicker.

As I was watching him slide his dick between my feet, he spit one more time between them. He tightened his grip on my feet and clamped them on the head of his dick. Suddenly I felt his dick start to throb and pulsate. He was squirting his cum between my feet! He pressed my soles together tightly on the head. I could feel them get very hot and sticky. He let go of my feet and when I pulled them apart there were thick white globs of his semen just dripping off of them. I started having an orgasm. Miraculously, no walked in during this whole event.

We cleaned up and he wrapped my ankle. Before he sent me on his way he gave me his number. I use it later, so this isn’t the last time you’ll hear me talk about Eric. Of course I didn’t mention this to anyone (except for now). I highly doubt that Heather or Trish would approve of me fooling around with Heather’s older sister’s ex. Out of curiosity I started trying to find out more about Eric through Heather.

Interestingly I found out a little tidbit about him. Heather mentioned that one of the factors leading to Amy’s breakup with him was that he wanted to get a little “kinky” with sex. This made me wonder. I suppose Amy just wasn’t into this foot thing. Who knows?

Anyway I’ve got to run. I’ve got some more entries to write later. Thanks for listening. Toodles.

Alice