He was staring. He knew he was staring. He hoped that no one noticed this inconvenient fact, though deep in the marrow of himself he knew that he didn’t care if anyone was watching him. Benjamin Bennett might have been a little slow with riddles.
He may sometimes forget things that lie in the shallows of his memory, skirting in and out of the mud stirred from the groping fingers of his mind to remain frustratingly unattainable. He may even sometimes make decisions in desperation born of fear or anger. But he was careful about this. This…this secret…wasn’t exactly something that one wanted every Tom, Dick and Harry to know. Benjamin – or Ben as his friends called him(the name Benjamin was most often reserved exclusively for angry parents or cheekily flirtatious girsl) – was always wary of being caught. Naturally, he usually managed to restrain his wants; being content with the quick glance when no eyes were following his or viewing unawares through the crack of his folded arms as his head rested on the table. Through the latter method, Ben had in fact become known for his lethargy and tendency to fall asleep with the utmost ease. Although, what criticisms could be made of this precaution when it was successful? He saw what he wanted and not a person was the wiser. Through these methods – and others that may be revealed at a future date – Ben gazed in rapt awe at the beautiful, feminine feet of his classmates whenever the opportunity presented itself.
One of these opportunities had reared its delightfully tempting head but moments ago. They felt much like what one imagines a ‘moment’ to be in the passage of time, but Ben thought silently to himself that it could easily have been closer to 10 or 15 minutes…a great deal more than the few moments at most that he should have risked. High school was not a place where pleasant daydreams would be eagerly fulfilled if his foot fetish were made common knowledge. It was a carefully guarded secret, a stranger desire than what was normally exclaimed about by young men of his age. At seventeen years old, Bens friends and acquaintances spoke of mundane and common attractions such as breasts, buttocks or legs. None of these aspects held much sway over Benjamin though, not when compared with the sensuality and beauty of a fine female foot. Currently, Ben was eagerly and openly staring at the exposed feet of the girl sitting directly in front of him. Undoubtedly, Ben always sat in a position that would hopefully elicit a scrumptious view.
This is not to say that he was always sitting in the most ideal seat, though more often than not his eyes carefully soaked up whatever sights were to be had. The girl was named Rachael Waverton and at the present moment, Ben’s world was entirely focused upon the space under her chair. The soft, white fabric of her socks stretching across her high-arched yet surprisingly wide soles. Staring nonchalantly at the blackboard, Rachael unconsciously tipped the front end her white and pink sneakers upwards as she applied pressure with her toes to the shoes heel. With what seemed the utmost care, her toes would casually splay apart to transfer themselves from the inside of the shoe rim to the outside. Ben could have sworn to himself that – absorbed in the moment as he was – he could hear the soft, muffled thunk of each toe gaining enough pressure to seductively pass over the barrier restraining it. This would eventually bring her deliciously plump-looking big toe(it’s roundness was evident even confined as it was in the soft white fabric) to apply its own pressure to the side of the shoe, knocking each respective home to her foot to the ground on its side. Methodically, Rachael would then rectify this situation by uprighting her sneakers and half re-inserting her feet into their dark depths. He hoped more than anything that she would continue along this relatively well known routine and continue on to stretch her toes the opposite way by scrunching them against the floor or the back of her worn, loose sneakers; displaying her wrinkled, socked soles in direct sight of his eager eyes.
This was not the time for such indulgences however, as Ben heard warning bells sound alarmingly in his head. Snapping suddenly out of his distant revery brought the realization that the bells were not in fact contained to his mind, but were ringing incessantly from the halls and walls outside the classroom. Looking around through the corners of his eyes, Ben thought with some relief that no one appeared to have noticed his temporary, yet completely incapacitating visual captivity. Luck, for the moment, was on his side. If Benjamin had ever heard the old adage however, he would have been wary; for lady luck is indeed a fickle mistress.
The rest of the day was uneventful as far as any exposed feet went. Ben only had mathematics after his Ancient History class, of which Rachael was a part – arguably the best part. Maths however, was not in the least bit exciting. The drollery composed of algebraic equations and expressions passed quickly for the young man, he was only halfway paying attention at any rate. The final bell of the day shortly rang out through the school, ending the days imprisonment to such masters as English films and literacy, linguistics or chemistry. These dull periods of time were able to be dealt with accordingly – Benjamin was, after all – one who accepted things or people for what they were and expected them to yield nothing more than could be reasonably hoped for.
By Ben’s logic, he felt that this helped him to be more acknowledging and thankful for when something exciting happened. Something like Rachael in Ancient History class earlier in the day. He was especially glad of that particular turn of events for no other reason than that today was Tuesday. Ben thought it unwise in the extreme to assume that anything of worthy note might take place on a Tuesday. In his opinion, Tuesday was without a doubt the most vile and despicable day of the week. Monday was granted to be a day not lamented in its passing, it was the first day of the week(this explanation was always delivered with the impression that this much at least should be painfully obvious). Wednesday was excusable no matter what happened because it was the hump day – no matter what else happened, at least it was downhill from there. Friday should go without saying, and Thursday is so close to Friday that it doesn’t really matter. That left only Tuesday without some sort of excuse, the solitary offender. Of course, to Ben, the beauty of this way of thinking was that this designation of Tuesday having no reason to be bearable, in fact made it just that. In this way, any unpleasantness was met with stoic acceptance. While any desirable or enjoyable moment was shown an unprecedented level of jubilation. One single event could outwiegh a whole days worth of misfortune. This suited Ben just fine, yes indeed.
“You walking home today dude?” The still-breaking voice of his close friend, Alex McAllister spoke from his left side. Ben hadn’t even noticed him as he cut through the swaths of younger and slightly older schoolgoers alike.
Still walking onwards, Ben turned his head to answer, “I’m not exactly sure of where else I’d be walking to if I’m not homeward bound.” For a brief moment, confusion clouded Alex’s still round face until the translation of Ben’s words became available to him and lit up the light-bulb in his head.
“You could just say yes you know,” Alex muttered, almost annoyed but just familiar enough with this process to not really care, “it would make things a lot easier.”
“As I’m sure I remember explaining to you previously Alex, where is the fun in speaking plainly?”*
Perplexion still evident in his countenance, Alex replied confusedly, “But why does speaking need to be ‘fun’? It’s just talking.”
“Alex Alex Alex,” Ben tsked with a few shakes of his head. “Conversation is an artform and language it’s colour. Why should I not splash my canvass in bright and beautiful paints?” Alex only stared vacantly before looking down at the ground.
“That doesn’t even make any sense, man.”
“Perhaps one day it will. Until then however I bid you adieu.” With that, Ben promptly turned up his street towards home, leaving his friend to his amusing befuddlement. Ben didn’t even think Alex knew what adieu meant. With a chuckle, he hoisted the right strap of his back-pack over his shoulder and hoped that no one was at home. Ben had plans for this afternoon. He needed to review the day while it was still fresh in his mind.
“Well you shouldn’t have really expected it to go down the way you planned,” Ben admonished himself, “it’s Tuesday, what do you expect.” Not so surprisingly, this did actually alleviate the approaching annoyance and he felt a little better. Reflection time could always be saved for later – this gem of a memory was going nowhere fast. Ben had arrived home to find an agitated mother and an un-agreeably tempered sister.
After listening to both sides complaints of the events, he had managed to figure out what happened. His sister, Erin, had gone to the office with an apparent migraine and asked that they contact her mother to pick her up. It was their mother’s only day off before the weekend, a fact of which he had no doubt that Erin was aware, and so she had no choice but to accede to her daughter’s request.
Suffice to say that Caroline, their Mother, was not overly impressed by this and showed her displeasure outwardly. Erin was frustrated by her mother’s own anger, but more so at her disbelief of the migraine. The latter was undoubtedly the stronger of these two emotions, for the only evident reason; it was true and Erin simply did not want to admit it.
Caroline’s frustration stemmed from different soil, if not for equally unequivocal reasoning. She was most annoyed at the fact that she had had to take half an hour from her busy day of relaxing away from work, among other such inconsequential factors that can at this point remain anonymous. Whatever the cause of this maelstrom of emotional turmoil, Ben saw no reason to become involved and went instead to wile away the hours until he could quietly and privately reflect on the day. It certainly wouldn’t do for his mother or sister to stumble in halfway through the process. No, that embarrassment would preferably be avoided. So instead of becoming immersed in his memories, Ben picked up his copy of A Study in Scarlet and opened to where Sherlock Holmes had last been left.
It was well into the night when at long last the sounds of Ben’s sister retiring for the evening could be heard. Barely heard could be more accurate, it was announced only by a stifled yawn and the soft wooden click of a closing door. Carefully, Ben put his book down on the floor and closed his eyes; readying himself, preparing himself and banishing all unwanted thoughts to the more shadowed corners of his mind. What was left in the central point of his mind’s eye was the singular image of Rachael’s soles stretched tight through her soft sock, seeming to stretch themselves taut in order to better be taken in by his sight. Slowly and carefully, Ben reconstructed the exact series of events in what he believed to be their correct order. She idly moved her feet to and fro, restless after so long spent sitting down. His mental vision seemed to magnify as well as intensify as he remembered noticing the telltale movements of the toe of one shoe moving the heel of the other. He remembered exactly the quiet rustling of her foot coming free of its bonds and stretching out in freedom. Her delicate and dexterous toes spreading outwards to thin the fabric of her sock before moving to remove her other shoe. Undoing his jeans, Ben lost himself in the memory of seeing Rachael’s divine shoeplay and her wonderful toes spreading apart – “just for me” – he may even have thought to himself from somewhere amidst the internal cacophony of his passion and desire.
From the depths of deep sleep, Ben suddenly came swimming to the surface. A decidedly rude sound came from his left – *Vttttt vttttt vttttt* -with what could only be described as the sound of shaking. What followed was an intrusive blaring series of beeps. Ben groaned groggily and reached up to turn the alarm off. Fumbling for the mobile phone, the digital numbers reading 07.30 were still blurred together in his vision. He needed to be at school in another half an hour or so…but it occurred to him that the option of returning to the land of slumber was(unsurprisingly) becoming increasingly inviting. “Just another 10 minutes.” Ben promised himself solemnly before falling into the soft embrace of his pillow.
In the back of his mind, Ben was aware of the sound of his mothers car leaving for work for the day. This also made him aware of the fact that it was now closer to 8.30am and he was now rather late. Feeling no sense of urgency – he was already late after all and no amount of hurrying could reverse that – he slowly went about the business of waking up and walking to school.
As luck would have it, the first class of the day, physical education, had been turned into a movie due to the dreary rainfall. The school grounds had been turned to nothing more than a vast plain of green and brown mush. The thought that this rain might have damped some socks was something that was not absent from his mind. It was no secret that wet socks were uncomfortable and had in the past resulted in their removal during class. Such occasions weren’t exactly common, but then he didn’t really expect it to happen. Even if the movie made it slightly more likely.
Movie classes in this kind of weather-related event were always viewed in the AV room; a large space occupied by a projector screen at the front of the room and a series of carpeted stairs leading up to the back. What this layout resulted in was a comfortable atmosphere where one could stretch their legs and lean back. Unexpected treasures in the AV room had been known to happen. Ben walked straight into the room with a quick mumbled apology about over-sleeping. The sports teachers, not really showing interest, barely acknowledged their late student. Spying a back corner that was relatively free, Ben made his way towards it, being careful not to trip on his way.
The room was only lit by the light of the film, dimming faces and diminishing any vision that Ben might have normally had. Once he was seated comfortably and could see those who were relatively closely seated to him, Ben’s attentive eyes scanned the room. The pickings in these combined classes could often be quite *voluminous, but it appeared many people had chosen not to bother with school today. Among those girls who he might usually be looking out for, Abbey and Jennifer we’re both absent. Sitting towards the front of the room, Emma and the toes of her pink socks could just be made out. This was out of the question, she was simply too far away and so Ben tried his best to move that detail to the back of his mind – he couldn’t very well move now and attract unwanted attention. Continuing turning his head to the left and upwards to the back where he was, the precious jewel was spotted. There, not four feet away from him and with no one between them, was Rebecca. She was laying on her left side supporting her head with her left arm propped up on her elbow. Her body was stretched out as far as it would go, her feet facing straight at Ben. With startling clarity his vision seemed to magnify and he could make out the damp, dark patches on her soles; signifying that the rain had indeed doused her socks quite thoroughly. They were clinging to her feet tightly and outlined her toes and arches perfectly.
Laying down on his stomach to get more ‘comfortable’, Ben positioned himself so as to reduce the distance to Rebecca’s feet by about 2-3 feet, putting his head only a foot or 2 away. By leaning his head against his right hand and laying on his stomach, supporting himself in much the same way Rebecca was, he had the perfect setup for a pristine discretionary viewing. Still settling in, he almost didn’t register the next words he heard on a conscious level. Coming unseen from Rebecca’s head up to his left were the words, “I’m still so uncomfortable…I’m pretty sick of this stupid rain, my socks are soaked.” Ben nearly froze solid when he realized what was being said. “Fuck this, they’ll dry quicker if I just lay them out flat.” This last part was uttered in a quieter voice, speaking to herself more than anyone in particular. “Next time I’m bringing an extra pair.
Ben reminded himself to breathe and let out a breath that must have lain forgotten for at least 20 seconds. Mentally noting to keep his breathing steady, he had never been more glad of making the effort to go to school. Rebecca’s right foot raised itself slightly as her big toe separated itself from its smaller brethren. Curling around to form a makeshift hook, the big toe started fumbling with the edge of her left sock, trying to gain a hold inside it. After a few tries, the toe finally made it inside the sock, causing it to instantly fling downwards and over her now bare heel. That heel looked softer than anything Ben had ever seen.
With what could have been time passing at 25% of its normal speed, he witnessed the commanding big toe continue it’s downward progress to ever so slowly free the rest of Rebecca’s divine feet. The sock slowly peeled down, revealing her creamy bare sole. As the last of the sock was brought over the now partially covered toes, they spread wide.
Each toe spread out from the opening in her sock slowly and deliberately(Ben was reminded of a flowers petals opening resplendently), one after the other as the sock fully came off each perfectly shaped digit.
Almost drowning on the sight before him, Ben observed how perfectly proportioned her toes were; each descending in size from the big toe down as he thought they should. He felt shivers at the soft wrinkles of her sole spreading in waves as those toes spread apart from each other; rejoicing in the fresh air and freedom. This stretching spread was quickly followed by the toes then folding down on themselves, scrunching tightly together.
Ben might have heard the barely audible crack of toes that this motion caused if he were not so focused on what the scrunch did to her sole. It was still moist from her damp socks but this did nothing except accentuate and multiply the wrinkles of her soles. He could see each curve and wrinkle in detail in that moment, spreading across the entire expanse of her soft, damp sole. Flexing a few more times for good measure, Rebecca’s now bare toes moved on to remove her right sock. This was very much a repeat of the same process, though with much more ease now. With her left foot now bare, at full dexterity and flexibility, hooking her big toe in behind the socks cusp was no contest. With no hesitation, the left big toe reached to the left(the rest of her toes spreading slightly of their own volition) and entered the sock immediately. Before Ben knew it, he was faced with two bare soles pointed straight at him; in all their stretching, contorting and wrinkling splendor.
Benjamin was utterly lost in his rapturous gaze. So engrossed was he, awareness of this state of oblivion did not even occur to his normally attentive mind. He found that his subconscious however, was still operating, because he certainly did not recall shifting his position from being propped on one elbow down to laying on hi ride side. Nor did he have any memory of his left arm raising itself like a shield and covering his face. His left eye was closed against the crook of his arm, creating a wonderfully voyeuristic and convenient shadow which completely shadowed his right eye(which was indefinitely open). To all outward appearances, Benjamin Bennett was fast asleep. He was vaguely aware of this process of thoughts, but only insofar that they brought the realization that this moment was a picture of perfection.
The one eye that was open was staring with wonderment straight at the pair of feet before him. His vision seemed to magnify as he took in every inch of Rebecca’s feet; from her soft, round heels to her wide, intricately wrinkled soles and delicate arches to her astoundingly perfect toes. It should be noted at this point, that Ben normally did not usually care a great deal for toes. In his opinion, toes were just a necessary component of the foot. It mattered to him only that the toes be appropriately sized for their order, if this requirement was met then he was indifferent as to whether the toes be long or short. He cared not if the toenails were long or short, painted or bare – just so long as the toenails existed(he had seen toes without nails once and only once…suffice to say it was not an enjoyable sight). Rebecca’s toes were another matter entirely. They were the epitome of what toes should be. Faced with this now obvious and indisputable fact, Ben could only just remember his apathy towards toes only hours ago. These were just the right length; not so short as to appear stubby and be without dexterity, though neither were they long enough to appear bony of finger-like. They were not pointed or distorted to odd shapes like some toes he had seen, these ended in a perfectly circular pad that he wanted to suck like a grape. Her beautiful digits twitched every now and then, snapping Ben’s eye straight back to them instantly in the hope that she would spread her toes again.
This is exactly what a foot should look like he thought to himself. As if Rebecca’s feet could hear his thoughts and wished to thank him for his compliment, her toes splayed slightly before tightly folding over into a scrunch. It could have lasted no more than a second or two, but Ben saw every wrinkle on her soles ripple into existence. In that moment he stared straight into the pit of wrinkled foot flesh that was now where the balls of her foot normally were. With her right foot resting atop the left, the two soles pressed against each other elicited even more wrinkles than would normally occur. Running his eye onwards past the soles, Ben was just in time to see Rebecca’s toes release themselves from the scrunch; they seemed to spring out of it into a stretch that spread her toes further apart than Ben had thought possible – he could even see her face gazing nonchalantly at the projection screen through the gaps in her toes. As her digits settled back to their normal positioning, Ben realized that just that brief moment had been enough to make him tingle all over, almost shaking with excitement.
Attempting to bring himself back to some semblance of outward awareness, Ben realized that a few people had stopped paying attention to the movie and were speaking quietly amongst themselves. Most of this speech was not audible, only snatches of conversation could be made out. What he could clearly hear – now that he was listening – were the soft voices of Rebecca and her friend, Amber. They were talking about some television show(one of those shows augmented with pheromones to attract young girls) or another. Rebecca was speaking at the moment about a character she disliked, until Amber looked in the direction of Rebecca’s discarded socks flattened out on the floor.
“-Are they your wet socks?” Amber asked from behind her hand as she stifled a laugh. Heavy with sarcasm, Rebecca replied.
“No, I just like to lay next to other people’s soaking socks.” Bens mind snapped to full attention at this turn in the conversation.
“So you just like to make other people lay near them?” Amber’s eyebrow raised slightly along with the corner of her mouth.
“I didn’t say anyone had to be near them.”
“Not in so many words, but Ben doesn’t seem to have much choice,” Amber’s eyes flicked down to Ben at Rebecca’s feet and added, “you’re basically shoving your stinky feet in his face!”
This was followed by a giggle from both parties as Rebecca lifted her head slightly and for the first time noticed Ben’s proximity. He froze completely, heart not even beating, the air remaining trapped in his lungs. Rebecca scoffed quietly however, she had not seen his open eye then. With relief, Ben slowly an carefully let himself breathe again.
“That dude is more asleep than my comatose cousin. And my feet dont stink, if they did he might wake up.” Amber still had a smirk on her face as she replied.
“Bec, I’ve smelled your feet after softball practice. Those things could wake the dead!” Ben wanted nothing more at that moment to be able to smell those post-practice feet, but at the moment they had no stench besides a slightly damp smell. Thinking about this as he was definitely made him unprepared for what Rebecca uttered next.
“If they smell so much, they should have no trouble waking Ben up then should they?” With that, she shifted her weight slightly and slid further down towards Ben. He could see her soles slowly looming closer in his vision, coming nearer to his face. She stopped at not an inch away from his face where her feet began waving back and forth.
“See? Nothing.” She then changed tactics just to make sure and began wiggling her toes, scrunching and spreading them right in front of Ben’s face. If Ben thought that he was engrossed in those toes before, then this was entranced – utterly and hopelessly entranced by her dexterous an delectable digits. He could see every fold of skin between her toes stretch out during the spread. He could see the individual lines in the skin of her toes. His mind was a complete blank as he drank in the sight before him.
Not for the first time(and certainly not for the last) Ben was snapped out of his stunned state by the bell signaling the end of this period. Tying to maintain his image of sleep, he did not feign waking up just yet. He certainly did not expect Rebecca to ‘wake him up’ by slipping her right foot under his arm and up to his face. He certainly did not expect her to then part her big toe from the second and take a firm hold of his nose between them. He could feel the soft, now warm flesh of her sole pressed against his face, feel the wrinkles in her sole just making contact with his closed lips. Frantically, battling with his desire to have her foot there forever and his desperate need to keep up the charade, Ben tried to think of a way to ‘wake up’ that would seem convincingly natural. He grasped desperately at a memory of grabbing his friend Mark’s nose while he was sleeping one day, which caused Mark to suddenly sputter, snort and proceed quickly to a surprised state of waking. Snorting in what he hoped was a normal manor and sitting bolt upright, Ben looked at Rebecca and Amber with confusion painted on his face – he did not need to fake his cheeks blushing a deep red in embarrassment while the girls laughed uproariously. With his face still burning, Ben gathered up his bag and fled, not stopping until he found himself at home and in his bedroom where he unashamedly and desperately relieved himself. Thrice.
This story is taken from: