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The Wrong Foot

1323 words | 1 |3.00
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My school needed money for athletic equipment, so we had exhibition games, and sold tickets.

It was just a fund raiser, but I got a chance to play with the girls on my soccer team again. It was cold, so we ran laps around in sweats to warm up, while the Pee Wee football team used the field, but they had nets stretched under the goalposts.

Then, we put on our cleats, shinguards, and took our sweat clothes off to play in our shorts, and tank-tops. Everything was going great, until me, and Jenny crossed the mid-line, and a girl from the other team tried to intercept. Then, she went after Jenny, so she kicked it over to me, and I was so busy watching the goaltender that I missed the ball, and kicked the ground.

My ankle exploded in pain, and I fell down. Mom, and dad ran out along with the coaches, and both sides gathered around. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry, are you all right?” I couldn’t unclench my jaw to tell her it wasn’t her fault, so I just nodded, but they picked me up, and carried me to the sideline.

There was this man, I’d seen him before at practice. He was never there to pick up one of the girls, he just watched. (He turned out to be the assistant coach’s husband, so he came to give her a ride home after practice.) “I’m a Chiropodist, let me take a look.” He pushed his way through the crowd, and got down on 1 knee, at the end of the bleachers.

I needed help loosening the laces all the way down to the toe, then I screamed when they pulled the shoe off, but it was already swollen up to more than twice it’s normal size. Then, the sock, and shinguard came off. “I might have something in my car.” He looked around suspiciously, “Help me get her back to my car.”

My mom, and dad carried me, under their arms, so I didn’t even have to hop, or crutch walk. I’d sprained my ancle, and twisted it so many times, I lost count. This felt different, it really hurt, but he got his keys out to open up the door to the back seat, and set me down. “Put your foot up. Here.” He helped me, and I was worried about my shorts riding up.

He propped it up next to the seat, and went back to look through the trunk. “We have to get back,” my brother, and sisters were playing too, it was a whole school thing, and we’re all into sports. Football, basketball, softball, and soccer, of course.

“Here,” he came back, and took my leg gently out of the corner between the seat and the door. “Hope this will help.” He put on gloves, but his hands were still cold. My foot was so swollen the toes stuck together, but he rubbed it gently, and magically, the pain started going away.

“Huh, what’s that stuff you gave me?”

“Lidocaine,” he took his gloves off, and looked around.

“So, you’re some kind of foot doctor, or something?” I thought Lidocaine was just a shot you got at the dentists, to make your teeth numb, but I guess they made a topical cream for it too. “You think it’s broken?”

“I don’t know, it’s too soon to tell.” With all the swelling, but he put it back up by the seat belt, and I pushed my shorts down to cover my crotch. He sighed, and shook his head, seriously. “It’s a shame to see that happen to such pretty little feet.”

“Oh,” I realized that I’d seen him hanging around, especially when we had our shoes off to change into our cleats, or put on our regular shoes so they didn’t scratch up the floor. In PE, we had to go through the gym to get to the soccer field, or the locker room from practice, than that had hardwood floors for basketball.

I also realized he wasn’t just a normal creep, he must be one of those foot freaks I’d heard of, but I never met one before. (A chiropodist is like a chiropractor, only instead of the spine, they specialize in the bones, and joints of the feet, hands, wrists, and ankles.)

“Well,” I scooted back, and sat up against the other door. The driver side door, I stuck my cleat out, and thought of something quick. You know, I always wondered how that would work? How does a man have sex with your feet? Is it like a hand-job, only you can’t wrap your toes around it to stroke him off. It sounds awkward, but I thought. “Maybe if you got a look at the other foot, you could tell what’s wrong?”

It was a flimsy excuse, but he went right for my shoe. He took that off, then my sock, and he even held it up to smell it. I giggled, and rubbed his crotch with my foot. Sure enough, he was rock hard, and he had one knee down on the end of the seat. His other leg outside, but I couldn’t get his zipper down with my toes.

So, he dropped my sweat sock, and whispered ‘perfect’ under his breath. He popped open his pants frantically, and gripped his dick to rub it all over my toes, but he must’ve been really excited, because he blew it right away. I laughed, and wiggled my toes, so the spunk rubbed together between them. “Huh, you better put my sock, and shoe back on.” He didn’t even unstrap my shinguard from my calf, but it was warm, wet, and squishy in my sock. Then, my shoe when he put that back on, and laced it up.

“Uh,” he looked around nervously. “Don’t say anything about, what you saw.”

“Oh, I won’t, I promise, but you going to be around the school again, next year?” I shook my head, “Soccer season’s over, but maybe I can get an appointment to come buy your office, and show you how my foot is healed?”

“Yeah, I’d like that, but I better get you back to your parents.” He helped me up, and carried me with his hand under my arm, and he didn’t even try to cop a feel or anything. The locker rooms were closed, so I put my foot up in the car on the way back.

His jizz was still wet, and sticky when I got home, and took off my sock. I showed my sisters, and the oldest (I’m a middle child) knew exactly what it was. “Oh, my god.”

“He’s a foot freak!” I nodded, and told her excitedly what happened. She kept interrupting to ask questions like “Did you see his dick?” and “How big was it? Is he circumcised?”

“I didn’t get a real good look, he had it in his hand the whole time, but I didn’t feel a foreskin with my toes. I don’t know, full grown? He wasn’t a middle school boy, I can tell you that!”

My little sister was confused, “I thought you’re gay.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Because you spend so much time with your lezzy dyke friends on the soccer team.”

“Uh, they’re not all lesbians, and be nice. Those are my friends you’re talking about, and they’d probably beat your ass if they heard you calling them names behind their back.” But it’s not like a big secret. I mean, they do hold hands, and make out right on the bleachers, so yeah. They’re girlfriends, but just those 2.

My older sister laughed, “You’re one to talk. Isn’t that why you got into softball in the first place?”

“No? I play softball, because they won’t let me play baseball. It has nothing to do with sex.” Then, she laughed, and changed the subject. “I guess you could say he got off on the wrong foot?”

We all got a good laugh out of that.

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