Chapter 2

Over those first weeks we grew to be even closer friends. Jake let me lend him some things from time to time. I made it clear that I was happy to help as a friend. I did not expect or want payback in any form. When he had a presentation to give, I lent him a dress shirt, nice pants and dress shoes. I was 5′ 11″ with a 30″ waist and 32″ inseam. Jake was 5′ 9″ with a 29″ waist and a 30″ inseam. We made due with a belt and by cuffing the pant legs.

For the shoes, I told Jake I wore size 11 and he said that would work for him. I knew that his only pair of shoes, those old tattered Vans, were a size 10. Jake had a habit of not wearing his shoes in the room. He would enter the room and immediately slip out of his shoes, leaving them side by side next to the door. I didn’t know if this stemmed from an old family rule of no shoes in the house or if he was afraid his old shoes were too dirty (or maybe too smelly) and he was embarrassed by them. At any rate, every time I entered or left the room when Jake was there I got to glance down inside those old, fraying shoes and saw the big “10” that was wearing out, but still visible in the heel. I hoped he wasn’t sliding around uncomfortably in my bigger shoes.

Whenever he did wear my stuff, it gave me a bit of a thrill to know his feet were in my shoes or my clothes were on his body. He never took anything of mine without asking, and usually it was me offering something to him. Whenever we were off campus together, I would pay for little things like a movie ticket or a fast food meal.

Jake helped me too. He did most of the work to keep our dorm room clean, he taught me how to do laundry and he tutored me in my Chemistry I class. Despite my attraction for Jake, things were going well. I really liked him as person. He was generous and caring. I kept telling myself that he was just my good friend.

Jake had never told me that he wasn’t gay. It would be easy to assume he was straight when I told him about myself and he said nothing. There were some subtle clues, however, that maybe he was gay and maybe he was interested in me. Or maybe it was just wishful thinking on my part and I was imagining things that weren’t really there.

One of the clues was how he allowed me to touch him. I know how that sounds, but it’s how I was raised. In my family if you walked past someone you were close with, a good friend or a family member, you would maybe touch their shoulder as you brushed by or tousle their hair. Or maybe light touch on the arm (or knee if sitting) while in conversation. As my friendship with Jake deepened and I felt more and more comfortable with him and these old habits resurfaced when we were together. The thing is, not only did Jake let me perform these small displays of affection, he reciprocated by doing the same with me.

Another clue happened the day I strained my back. I had been moving equipment and stacking chairs in the band room after class one day and lifted wrong and hurt my lower back. It wasn’t too bad, but when I got back to our room, Jake did notice that I was moving slowly and grimacing. He asked about it and I told him what happened. He offered to give me a massage.

I said, “I just need to rest it a little.”

Jake said, “I am actually really good at it. I can help you.”

I said, “I don’t want you to go to any trouble. I’ll be okay.”

He said, “Look, I really do know what I’m doing. I can make you feel better. I promise I won’t hurt you. What have I got to lose? Trust me. Let me do this.”

I eventually agreed and Jake told me to take off my shirt and lie down on my bed. I slipped off my shoes and pulled off my shirt. I stood there for a minute and I watched Jake’s eyes first travel down then back up the length of my body, dance around my shirtless torso and finally come to rest back on my eyes. One of his signature crooked smiles spread across his lips. He was taking in the sight of me and I let him enjoy it. I laid down as he had asked and he knelt on my bed, straddling my butt.

He began to massage my lower back. He was gentle at first, then he worked the affected area harder and deeper. He did know what he was doing and I could tell that it was helping. What I didn’t expect was that he would turn this into a full back massage. He knew it was just the lower back that was injured, but he began to increase his coverage up my spine, to my upper back and eventually to my shoulders and neck as well. He had big, strong hands and I was like putty in his grip. He lavished attention everywhere there was bare skin. I couldn’t help but let out some soft moans of pleasure as his fingers worked magic. When he lightly slid his fingertips from my armpits, across my ribs, down my sides and to my waistband, there was no way he didn’t notice the goosebumps he had caused to spring out in reaction.

When he had finished, I was lying there all tingly. He got up, but I couldn’t just yet. I had to stay as I was until the erection his massage had given me subsided. As I laid there waiting, Jake kept glancing at me and smiling. I thought he knew what he had done to me and he sure seemed proud of his accomplishment.

The third clue happened the next week when I had a chance reciprocate, and he let me. Jake had rushed into our room kind of late one evening, slipped out of his shoes as always, and grabbed his Biology book off his desk. He seemed a little frazzled and I asked what was wrong. He explained that labs had run long today and that he hadn’t started studying yet for tomorrow’s Biology exam. He jumped onto his bed sitting upright with his back against the headboard and his legs out in front of him. He was as stressed as I had ever seen him and he was trying too hard to read his book.

I said, “You’re the smartest person I know. I am sure you’d ace this test even if you didn’t study at all.”

He replied, “Tommy, this is serious. A bad grade could endanger my scholarship.” He was genuinely concerned.

I said, “Well, you need to relax a little. You won’t retain anything this way. Let me help you,” and I moved to sit on his bed.

He said, “I don’t have time for games here Tommy. I have to study.”

I said, “I know. I can see you’re serious. Trust me. I will not interfere. Your studying will be more effective if you calm down.”

I sat down on the middle of his bed with back against the wall. I lifted his feet onto my lap. I began a gentle rub through his sock.

Jake cocked an eyebrow and looked at me suspiciously, “Don’t tickle me,” he demanded.

I replied, “I won’t. I’m not here to distract you. I’m here to relax you.”

He settled in and started to read his textbook more calmly. I decided to work just one foot at a time in an effort to draw this process out as long as possible. I had fantasized about touching his feet since the day we met. I only wished that he was still wearing those beat up old Vans so I could slowly remove them myself as part of the program. As it was, he had just kicked them off and his socks were still lightly damp from the sweat of a long day in the lab. I addressed his right foot first. He was wearing old white gym socks that were graying with age and wearing thin at the heels. After massaging through the sock for a while, I hooked a finger inside and peeled it off. This cute guy’s sexy feet were in my lap and I felt a tightening in my pants.

I wouldn’t say I have a foot fetish per se, but I do usually like feet. They have to meet certain criteria for me though. They can’t be too small or too big. The wrong feet can be gross. They could be too bony or too hairy. The toes could be too long. They could smell bad. Jake had none of these problems. His feet were soft and smooth, his toenails were neatly trimmed and his size was a perfect 10. He did not have a foot odor issue. Instead, I was enjoying the light, musky aroma of manhood. I was intoxicated by his mild, manly scent.

I had to remind myself to not tickle him. As tempting as that was, I didn’t want to do anything that would cause the festivities to end. So I kept my word. I lovingly rubbed, massaged and stroked every part of that foot. I gave each toe individual attention. After about 30 minutes I moved on to the left foot. Having been ignored to this point that foot was more sensitive than the one I had just finished and I accidentally made him flinch and quiver a couple times. His fresh foot became desensitized and I proceeded with the same menu I had performed on the first foot. I really wanted to lick his arches and suck his toes, but I thought that might be too much.

After an hour of foot fun I began to work my hands up his calves one at a time. Neither one of us had spoken since this all began. I just let him study. I didn’t know if his leg in my lap could feel the hard on I had during this entire encounter, but it was there. As I continued to work his lower legs, I thought that maybe the bump of his crotch was a little more pronounced than usual. I didn’t think it would be appropriate to continue massaging his legs any higher, so I stopped. I put his socks back on for him and gave his feet a parting squeeze as I got up.