She described Eric to me, a blonde undergraduate pianist. I had never seen him before, since, by her description (tall, lanky, shy, clean cut, all-American), I certainly would have remembered him.

She also told me about an in depth conversation they had about their sexual likes and dislikes, and made passing reference that he had this "weird thing about feet." My mind was left to wander about exactly what this meant. Gradually over the next few months, she and Eric stopped seeing each other romantically and became "just friends" as Kari put it. It was a very gradual change, without any ill will or misunderstanding; in fact it seemed to be a very natural progression.

A semester later, I met Eric for the first time at a student recital.....and DAMNED if Kari didn't have a gift for understatement. This boy was beautiful: clear, fair complexion, blonde hair, pale blue eyes, lean and defined, very boyish looking with large, solid hands and feet. He had a penetrating, good natured gaze and a quirky, enigmatic face which was a bit difficult to read. Kari, who was also at the recital, introduced us to each other and he greeted me shyly but warmly, as he wrapped his large, dry, warm hand around mine and squeezed more firmly than I would have expected. I looked at his bulky, veined, well groomed hands and imagined his feet inside his large sneakers. the soles of his sneakers were heavily treaded and they accentuated the shape of what I was sure to be long toes and a high, graceful arch. When I looked back at his face, I saw that he had caught me looking at his feet.

After the recital, I drove Kari and Eric back to their dorms. As luck would have it, Eric's was further away and he was the last to be dropped off. By now, it was very late and the three of us had gone out for drinks after the recital, so the mood was relaxed. It was the end of spring quarter and the next day, graduating students (Eric included) would be making an exodus to their respective destinations.

"Where are you off to next?" I asked him as we turned the last corner on the way to his dorm building.

"Back to Madison, but not until I finish my last assignment."

"Oh? What's that?"

"I have a piece to arrange for a theory class. The assignment is late, but the teacher gave me an extension."

"How far are you from finishing?" I asked.

"It's gonna be a late night."

"How is your caffeine level...do you want to grab some coffee somewhere before you get started?"

"Actually, I've got an espresso machine up in my room that will probably be running all night................"

"Ah. You're set then."

I pulled up to the front door of his dorm. There was a long pause as I slowed to a halt. Eric started to reach for the door, then turned to me. "How are you set for coffee?"

"I could always use more."

"I wouldn't mind the company. I always feel like I'm the only one left in the universe when I'm cramming for a class."

"Well, we can't have you thinking that. Isolation is a terrible thing."

Minutes later, we were sitting in his room. My heart was pounding. For being as young and naive looking as this boy was, he was a slick operator. He was impossible to figure. I suppose he could have been gay and confused, or bisexual, or maybe I had been blessed by being in the company of the breed of man who is just plain horny and doesn't care what form of affection he experiences. What gay man can resist the ultimate turn-on of masculine ambiguity?

Eric hopped up on his bed with a large manuscript. He put his back against the wall and stretched his legs out straight across the bed, so that his feet were extended out over the edge of the bed at the ankles. He still had his sneakers on, and balanced the heel of one foot on top the toe of the other foot. His top foot flopped from side to side and fell off the narrow perch of his other foot. he made a few marks in his music, then looked up at me.

"I'm actually not far from done...it's mostly a matter of copying the parts at this point. So--your job is to distract me from working as much as possible." he smiled.

"That's what friends are for," I said, "and since I'm sure you have plenty, I can see why your assignment is late to begin with."

"Yeah, I guess you're right. But that's what college is for, right?"

"Absolutely." I could not take my eyes off of Eric's toes, which were flexing inside of his sneakers. He pried one of the shoes off at the heel and let the shoe begin to slip off. Then he started (absentmindedly?) bobbing his foot up and down on the bed to further loosen it. He was wearing those little bootie socks that only came up just above the heel. His socks were bright white. His heel was large and fleshy and sloped up steeply into what looked to be a very high (sensitive?) arch.

I was so hot and bothered, I actually had to excuse myself and go down the hall for a piss.

When I got back, Eric's feet were BARE. My face flashed hot as I sat down. DID HE HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT THIS WAS DOING TO ME? We bantered a bit more, talking music and friends and hobbies. He crossed his legs and started playing with his toes. I thought I was gonna pass out. I was delighted by the easy-going nature of our conversation. Very warm and unforced-forced, we drifted from one topic to the next, then bounced between one subject to the next. We teased, we joked, we flirted. Eric would scribble a bit on his work, always keeping an ear trained on our conversation. He finally crossed his legs at the ankles and let his feet hang over the bed. He looked up from his work and saw me looking at his feet again. Busted.

Then we started talking about romance. I asked him about he and Kari. He confirmed what Kari had already told me. he had affection for her, still regarded her as a friend, but thought that they just didn't have enough in common to pursue anything serious.

"Kari is pretty conventional," I said. She reminds me of this woman I once dated....Kathy...she was lot's of fun, but she just didn't appeal to my more....twisted side." BOY was I fishing...of course, I neglected to tell him that she was the first and last girl I had ever dated, and that we were teenagers at the time. WHO DID I THINK I WAS FOOLING? I was pretty much out to everyone I met. I never pretended to be straight, not even by omission. There was every chance that it had already been confirmed to Eric that I was gay. The things we do.....

"What do you mean, 'your twisted side?'" Eric asked. I had his full attention now.

"Oh, you know," I said, trying to sound casual, "she was just so....NORMAL. There were lots of times I wanted to get all kinky on her, but she just wasn't going for it. That's when I decided that I needed someone with an appreciation for the....bizarre."

"Bizarre?" Eric was smirking. He was not going to make this easy for me."Yeah. There were times that we were fooling around, and, I wanted to like scream.....GOD...please just tell me that you want me to dress up like a Roman Gladiator or that you would get off if I got down on all fours and barked like a dog."

Eric laughed. My mouth was moving so fast now that I barely knew what I was saying. "Once I even asked her what she would do if I told her that I was aroused by crawling around on the floor and barking like a dog while she slapped my ass with a rolled up newspaper," I continued. Eric's head was thrown fully back into a loud belly laugh.

"What did she say?"

"She just said that she would start laughing...well, that brought the conversation to an end, and whatever fantasies I had, I kept to myself." I had graduated to bold faced lying.

"I don't mean to laugh at you," he said," but I know what you mean. Some people don't have much imagination. But you really can't blame them. I mean it's no more their fault that they're boring than it is our fault that we're kinky-ass sons o' bitches."

"We?" I asked. He had left me an opening big enough to drive a truck through.

"Well, I mean we only in the sense that we want a little more than the missionary position. I think most guys do, if they're really honest about it. Don't you think all guys are perverted, when you come right down to it?"

"Most certainly. Without a doubt."

LONG PAUSE

"How's that assignment coming?"

"Oh, I probably got another hour or so."

"Am I keeping you from finishing?"

"God, no. I'm happy for the diversion. It will get finished one way or the other, and I have all day tomorrow to sleep. Actually, maybe you can help me. How much theory have you had?"

That was the only excuse I needed. I hopped up on the bed and sat against the wall next to him. I was careful to leave space of about two or three feet. It wouldn't do any good to scare the little woodland creature away by my advanced faggottry (meant as harmless, tongue-in-cheek homophobia). He was writing a score for B flat trumpet, and wanted to make sure that he was transposing correctly. We looked at the score for a few minutes, then I left him to scribble in silence. The conversation had reached a lull.

"It's kinda chilly in here. Aren't your feet cold with no socks?" I asked, and I reached for one of his ankles, pulling one foot completely into my lap. This caused his pelvis to twist around so that his back was facing the head of the bed instead of the wall. I put my hand around the top of the foot that was in my lap...."Wow..they're pretty warm after all. Mine are cold, and I have shoes on."

Eric didn't flinch, but swung his other foot into my lap. He flexed his toes back, which caused the skin on the soles of his feet to stretch taught. My hand was still on the top of one foot and I felt it quiver slightly. His feet were everything I had imagined them to be: strong, sinewy, long toes, high arches, graceful slope, and BIG. At least a size 10 1/2 or 11.

"I guess I'm just warm blooded. I don't really get cold, even when it's really cold outside."

What did I need...A WRITTEN INVITATION to tickle his foot?

"You never get cold, huh? You must be nearly invincible to the elements." I said.

"I guess you could say that."

"Regular nerves of steel...." I was stalling.

"I suppose."

"No vulnerabilities at all? Not even....to....TICKLING, for instance?" I slowly traced a circle around the outside edge of one foot. His foot jumped, halfway to the ceiling, it seemed. I had struck gold. I looked at his face. His eyes were wide as saucers with fear and excitement. He grinned and grimaced, shutting his eyes tight--and he replaced his foot back on my lap, with no intention of removing either of them.

"Ah, shit...not that, oh, come on..." Eric dug his legs into the bed and he sat on his hands. He began breathing loudly through his clenched teeth.

"You don't mean to tell me that THIS tickles THAT much..I'm barely touching you."

"I know. That...just...makes it...WORSE." I was still just concentrating on the rim of his foot. I was grazing the tops of his toes now, which were quivering and separating as I dragged my fingertips with feathery lightness across his naked skin. Eric was breathing hard, trying to maintain composure. It also seemed that he was trying to keep his feet still in spite of the tickle agony. "Oh, JESUS...that tickles...so....MUCH...Oh, MAN......*growl*....not so ..fast..easy...*pant*...i can't take it if you go too fast....SHIT!"

I was still on the outside edges of his feet. I had progressed to the other foot and had every intention of dragging out the torture AS LONG as I could. I used a thumb and forefinger to give feathery pinches to the sides of his feet and the inside edges of his arched. I drew light circles around the pads of each toe. I was saving the soles and the undersides of his toes till last. I also alternated tickling the tops of his feet, his ankles and his shins (I had to reach up pant legs for that...but his baggy wide-legged denim trousers obliged wonderfully).

Eric was nearly hyper-ventilating. He was tossing his head around and stifling high pitched screams with his closed mouth (they were coming out his nose....I never knew it was possible to scream through one's nose). "Oh, please? just a little slower or I'll wake up the whole building...that's better....aw..SHIT...I can't take it...GOD it tickles so DAMN bad...ah.ah.ah..AHHHAHHH CHRIST."

"Now lemme try under these toes. You can't possibly be ticklish there too?"

He shot a terrified look at me. "PLEASE not there. God it kills under my toes."

"I'll take it slow, come on. A sturdy guy like you should be able to handle it," I teased.

"Yeah, but you don't understand. I'm the MOST ticklish person that ever walked the..........AAAAAAAHG..okay okay okay COME ON! HA HA HA HA HEE HEE OOOH oooohoooohoohoo. come on. please stop......don't tickle me any more PLEASE...I'm gonna lose it! AAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!!! Oh, MAN that's the worst torture!

I continued my assault, slow and thorough and methodical. I pushed both Eric's feet close together so that I could reach all areas of both feet at the same time. After I worked over the undersides of his hyper-ticklish toes, I began lightly caressing the balls of his feet....first one foot, then another. I paid special attention to the point at the base of his toes where the toes join the balls of the feet. His long toes were arching back to try and escape my probing fingertips, which ironically left them even more exposed to tickling. I began lightly drumming on the bottoms of his feet with my fingertips--I was not even dragging my fingertips yet, just giving his soles light taps with my fingernails. Eric's pelvis began rising up off the bed as I did this and he twisted his torso from side to side. He had his arms tightly wrapped around his waist as if he were going to explode from tickle anguish. As I began flicking my fingers rapidly across his soles (very lightly, however....barely touching the skin...more like a tickling breath on his flesh) he began to buck and thrash. A deep belly laugh rose from deep inside him: a gut-splitting, panicked guffaw. He no longer even tried to stifle his laughter as his body writhed wildly on the bed. As he was able to catch his breath, he began to plead.

"AAAAAAAGH...PLE-E-E-E-ASE... OOOH-HO-HO-HO... NO MORE PLEA-E-E-E-ASE! I'm gonna wake the who-o-o-ole building! GA-A-A-A-WD...STO-O-O-O-P....EEEEEEE....OOOOOHHOOHOOHOOHOO!

I slowed my stokes down so that he would not have to scream any more, and to my surprise, he began to moan and pant with pleasure. There was a huge bulge in his jeans and his legs began to tremble as his feet actually began to twitch. He was becoming more sensitive and ticklish be the second! I took the opportunity to let my fingertips travel along his ankles, around his calves, the tops of his feet. His grunting and moaning became deeper and more aroused as I did this. I left one hand on his foot/under his pant leg as my other hand lifted his shirt to reveal his concave, heaving belly and a shallow, large innie of a belly button. I could tell by the way his belly muscles grabbed when I grasped the hem of his shirt that his stomach was every bit as ticklish as his feet. I slowed the tickle torture down and began tracing irregular patterns all over his belly, sides and ribs. As I circled his belly button, Eric's arousal mounted. He was hyperventilating with pleasured agony.

"Mmmm...oooh GOD...that feels g-g-reat....aagh.....*gasp*...oh, MAN...it tickles so bad I can't..t-t-t-ake...m-m-m-uch more.....f-f-f-uck...*gasp*..OH SHIT....I th-th-think I'm g-g-gonna..CUM!!!!!!!

As one hand skittered across his naked, convulsing foot, the fingers of my other hand fluttered under his shirt. As his belly heaved and twitched under my fingers, I would occasionally let my thumb and first two fingers lightly graze the rim of his vulnerable innie. I could actually feel his ultra ticklish navel SHRINK at my touch. the sides of his belly button flattened from the tension of his stomach muscles underneath. As I was doing this, he let out a series of gasps--each one deeper than the last.

"MMM....MMMMMMM....NNN.....AWWWW.....I'm....gonna......blow.....aaaah....*growl*.....*pant*.....AAAAAAAAh........AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGHHHHHH!!!!!!!! aaaah............aaah........aaaaah............aaaaaah...................aaaaaaaahh.............aaaaaaaaahh.....mmmmmmmm......mmm........mm..m......shit.....oh christ........mmmnmmnnnnn. *grin*

He got up quickly from the bed and grabbed a change of underwear and a pair of shorts from the drawer. He smiled at me on his way out the door and gave my shoulder a playful shove.

"Now see? You made have to go and change clothes. I'll be right back. Don't you DARE leave," he smiled.

My face flushed.

".....until I get my revenge," he said over his shoulder on the way down the hall.