I don’t know how to tag yet. Can someone explain the rules? This story is about a platonic footjob that happened completely unexpected

The other night, a friend of mine (let’s call him John) and I were hanging out on the couch, watching mindless TV and relaxing. I worked out twice that morning, and my legs were killing me. I’m very comfortable with John, as I have known him for more years than I’d like to admit. I don’t really have to respect his space. I told him to move his arm so I could stretch my aching legs out, which he did with no complaint. It’s nothing new. However, this time, something else happened.

Because I was so sore and hurting, I couldn’t keep my legs still. I just kept stretching over and over every few minutes, until once I felt a different sensation under my foot. I froze, mortified, and felt both a little embarrassed and embarrassed for him, but I wasn’t completely sure what I suspected had 100% happened. He didn’t say anything, and after a minute I was watching tv again with that out of my mind. It wasn’t long before I noticed myself stretching again, and yep, there it was, even harder than the first time.

It must have been obvious to him that I noticed it that time, because he quickly shifted my feet closer to his knee, starting rubbing them, and suggested that a massage might help distract me from my sore legs. I, of course, agreed. One, he’s good at it, and two, I wanted to avoid bringing up the issue as much as he seemed to.

We continued talking and watching YouTube while he rubbed my feet. He’s especially good at getting between my toes and pulling on them, but he’s also just generally gifted with touch. My eyes broke from the TV to address him at one point, and they drifted again when I saw his boner out of the corner of my eye. I couldn’t help but focus on it for just a few seconds, because I was honestly just surprised. It had been twenty minutes or so since he started the massage, so I didn’t expect him to still be hard.

I caught myself and quickly looked back to the TV, pretending some noise had caught my attention. I couldn’t focus on YouTube anymore though. I kept thinking about his erection. After another few minutes, he said his hands were getting tired and he stopped rubbing. I smiled and thanked him, before I did a very big, deliberate stretch to afford myself the opportunity to check the status again. Haha

My foot brushed over his lap, and much to my disappointment, I didn’t notice it. My legs settled again and then I was confused. Where’d it go? Did rubbing my feet turn him off? Are my feet gross to him?

Another minute or two passed before I whined about my legs again and stretched, planning to provoke a response this time, only I didn’t get the chance: by the time my foot made it’s way into his lap again, it was greeted with a lump in his shorts.

This time, he got uncomfortable. He shifted and muttered a pathetic apology, as if I hadn’t deliberately antagonized him. He started to grab my foot to slide it off of him and I firmly repositioned it. His eyes went wide when I said that it wasn’t a big deal and that I didn’t care. My suspicions were confirmed when I felt his member swell even more in response.

I blurted, “You pervert! You have a foot fetish!” He started turning scarlet, and I realized that maybe he didn’t take it as playfully as I meant it, but I didn’t apologize. My brain was going. He sheepishly said that he’s not super into feet, but that he does like them and honestly that it had been awhile since he’d been intimate with anyone, because of COVID.

I gave him a gentle rub for reassurance, and felt his hips rock ever so slightly as he let out a soft sigh, trying to play it cool and pretend like he was still interested in whatever was on the TV at that point. I didn’t notice. I was staring at his dick straining against his boxers and shorts, between my soles of my feet. I used stretching as an excuse again, and was met with another (possibly involuntary) thrust, before he said that he couldn’t handle it anymore, grabbed my feet, and plopped them onto the couch. I giggled and started to feel bad about his obvious frustration. What a loser. It fascinated me though, oddly enough.

I said, “stop being a baby. My legs actually hurt.” I stretched out again and he was just as hard as ever. He grumbled in protest but his voice got weaker and dissolved into a heavy, deep inhale. I squeezed, hard. He gasped, “what are you doing?!” I ignored his question, because it was pretty obvious at this point.

I was more curious than anything. I’d never given anyone a foot job before, and I couldn’t stop wondering if I could get him to cum from just my feet. He said it had been awhile, and he seemed like he’d be ok with it. I was also taken aback by how submissive he became, just because he was throbbing against my feet. I didn’t want to ask.

“Get it out,” I said, moving one of my feet away from him a little to give him some room to maneuver.

He hesitated and said, “Are you…” I didn’t let him finish the thought before my foot moved back with a little more force and pushed, before slowly easing it away again. This time, when he had room, I thought he might have broken his zipper from how hard it came down.

Then, I saw it. I’d seen his dick a few times before over the years, but not in awhile. I couldn’t believe how hard he was. I could feel the heat from it on the bottom of my feet. I gave it a good squeeze and was rewarded with a pitiful whimper and a dribble of pre-cum. I couldn’t believe how docile he was. I made sure to explore and try different strokes and techniques, and he didn’t once try to correct me or modify anything. He was powerless, and I had figured it out. It wasn’t long before my feet were slick from all of the pre-cum oozing out of him.

When my legs started to get tired (didn’t take long, because I was so sore already), my feet came to a stop. I could feel his heart beating with every throb of his cock. I could feel him trying to thrust his hips gently enough that I might not notice. I gave him a little pressure and he let out a groan, then his breathing started to quicken.

Was he really getting that close? I wasn’t even moving anymore. His hips were rocking noticeably now, so I gave him a bit more pressure.

I froze there, alternating my gaze between his face and his dick. His head started to tilt back and I felt a more emphatic thrust. I stared at his cock. It was so swollen and red, and I could see the muscles flexing. I wondered how long he could stand that. I was only going to make him suffer for a few seconds, but before I could change it up, his cock started spurting wildly, covering my ankle in a pool of thick, hot jizz.

He panted and thrust into my feet sporadically for a few more seconds before letting out a long deep breath and growing still. I eased up pressure and marveled at what had just happened. I wasn’t even stroking it, and I made him cum on me. What else could I get away with?

We sat in silence for a few seconds. I figured I’d let him regain his composure a bit. It wasn’t long before he started getting soft again. I wasn’t done yet though.

“Well now I can’t get up,” I complained. He snapped out of his daze and seemed frantic to apologize. He started to get up, but I told him to relax and sit back. I remembered I still had an old T-shirt of his. I reminded him of such, and then demanded that he take his shirt off and clean his pathetic cum off of me. He wasn’t sure how to respond, but complied.

He finished wiping my feet thoroughly, making sure to get my toenails even. Sitting on the edge of the couch holding a cum-soaked t-shirt, with his now limp dick still hanging out of his shorts, he pleaded for my approval. “Is that better? You’re probably gonna have to actually wash your feet if you want to get it all off.”

I didn’t believe my own ears when I heard myself say, “yeah, that’s a little better. But, what if I want to feel your mouth on my clit?”

Much to my surprise, he didn’t have the same eagerness as before when he responded. He apprehensively asked if that was a hypothetical. I rolled my eyes. His voice took a calm, but assertive tone. Not necessarily aggressive, just more confident, like he accepted that he knew he had to. I parted my knees, and noticed for the first time that my panties were sopping wet. I saw a greedy flash of hunger light his eyes up as his head descended….

And that’s it for the first one! Let me know what you think! I’m open to constructive criticism/critique. And for those of you that would be interested, my friend and I recreated this event in pictures the other day. I’m not going to post the link, because that’s not what this is about. I hope you enjoyed the fantasy/story!! ?

Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/ityjf6/i_dont_know_how_to_tag_yet_can_someone_explain