Backseat Foot Fun With a Stranger

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It was a warm Saturday in July and I had a full day planned. After running the usual weekend errands, I would meet my sister at the park district’s soccer field to watch my 9 year old nephew, and his team, play in a regional finals game. In the evening I was going downtown with a couple of my friends. We had concert tickets to see Garth Brooks. I personally have never been a fan of country music, but my friends convinced my come along. He was playing at a large outdoor venue right near the lakefront. I agreed, thinking the experience would be fun.

After the soccer game ended (his team won!) my nephew and I were kicking the ball back and forth on the field. I made a quick move to block a shot and somehow managed to twist my left knee. I guess that at the age of 26 I was already getting too old to goof around like a kid. I was embarrassed by my injury and pretended like it didn’t happen.

Anyway, it was about time that my friends would be picking me up. Brad, Matt and I had been friends since college. I was the only one of three of us who was gay, but that was never an issue in our friendship. We had many similar interests…sports teams, movies, music, etc. We have remained good friends beyond college.

Brad had gotten tonight’s concert tickets through his company. He had 4 tickets but since none of the three of us were seriously seeing anyone right now, the forth ticket was going to go unused. My knee was messed up. I decided not to call and beg off of the concert because I discovered that when I kept my knee straight, I was fine. It only hurt when bent. Once the concert began, I knew we would be standing the whole time. I’d be fine. In the car I could take the back and stretch leg straight across the seat. No problem.

Heading into the city on a Saturday night we would face heavy traffic and parking would be tricky. We decided it would be best to take just one car and they would pick me up around 5:00 after my nephew’s game. It was approaching 5:00 now so I said my goodbyes to my sister and her kid and I hobbled over to the parking lot.

Brad was driving his Honda Civic. Not a ton of room, but again, stretched out across the backseat I should be fine. As I approached I could see that as expected, Matt was already occupying the shotgun seat up front. So far, so good. Maybe I could get through the evening without having to tell the embarrassing story of my injury. The two of them were deep in conversation and not watching as hobbled closer. I finally made it and was surprised to see that the passenger side of the backseat was already occupied by a guy I’d never met. He looked to be about our age, but who was he? I opened the driver’s side rear door and painfully folded myself into the only empty seat. I appraised the stranger next to me. Even though he was sitting I could tell he was a little over 6 feet tall. He was good looking with dark hair, a well-trimmed beard, piercing blue eyes and a well-muscled physique.

After hellos all around, Brad introduced me to his cousin, Jack, who was unexpectedly in town with nothing to do so Brad offered him the forth ticket. Great. How would my injured knee survive the car trip in a bent, painful position. With summer weekend traffic, getting into the city was bound to take at least 90 minutes, maybe more.

Brad pulled out and we were on our way. It wasn’t long before Jack noticed me fidgeting and grimacing next to him. He asked me if I was okay. Brad had music on pretty loud in the car and it seemed to be balanced more toward the front speakers. I didn’t think he and Matt would be able to hear us in the back. bahis firmaları I told Jack about my knee injury and how stretching it out straight was the only tolerable position. But here in the cramped backseat, what could I do?

Jack said, “Why don’t you turn sideways, straighten your leg and put your foot in my lap?”

Surprised by this I cocked an eyebrow and said, “Really? Are you sure? That’s a big imposition.”

Jack replied, “It’s not ideal but it’s a long drive into the city. If you don’t get a chance to straighten your leg, you’ll never make it. It’s okay, I really don’t mind.”

I thanked him, removed my seatbelt, turned 90 degrees and cautiously rested my left foot in his lap. I bent my right knee and placed my right foot flat on the seat in between us. I sighed in relief and thanked him again as the pain dissipated.

After a few minutes Jack said, “You know, I’ve had a few sports injuries myself and I’ve had to have physical therapy a few times. I’ve learned a few things from those experiences. Would you like me to try to massage your knee a little and see if it helps?”

“I don’t think-“

He cut me off. “I really don’t mind. We have a long night ahead of us. This might help. At the very least it can’t hurt. Just let me know if I cause any pain.” He didn’t wait for me to reply. With his left hand he began to gently press and massage my bad knee. I did hurt a little at first, but in a good way. It was helping.

As the car continued to push through toward the city, Jack continued to rub my knee. I noticed that he had leaned his head back and closed his eyes. I was also beginning to relax a little despite the awkward situation and I closed my eyes as well. Over the course of the next few minutes, I noticed that he added his right hand into the massage. He slowly began to expand the area he was rubbing. I opened my eyes a bit and saw that his eyes remained closed.

I was wearing shorts so the full length of my bare inner leg was toward him and at his disposal. The area of his focused continued to slowly expand. At this point I began to ask myself several questions. Did he realize what he was doing? Was this subconscious? Did Brad tell his cousin that I’m gay? Is Jack gay too? Is he testing me in some way?

His left hand worked further up my thigh while his right hand worked down my calf and shin. The fingers of his left hand worked their way under the leg of my shorts and the light tickle of his touch was causing me to quiver. His right hand worked massaging circular motions lower and lower. I was wearing low cut ankle socks so he had bare skin to work with all the way down to my shoe. When he reached the end of the line he drew concentric circles around my ankle bone for a minute then began working back up toward the knee. Meanwhile his left hand was still up my shorts and he (accidentally on purpose) grazed my scrotum a couple of times with his fingertips as he darted around my underwear. The sensation made me gasp and twitch and I felt a stirring in my crotch. Okay, he knew what he was doing, but why was he doing it? If he didn’t know I was gay would he dare play this game?

Jack suddenly opened his eyes, looked at me and said, “Your shoes are kind of dirty and I just remembered that I’m wearing brand new shorts. I don’t want to mess them up so do you mind if I take off your shoe?”

I stammered, “I, I don’t…”

He cut me off again. “Look, I’m doing you the favor here letting you straighten out your injured leg. I think doing me this small favor is the least you could do. Just close your eyes again and relax.” kaçak iddaa Jack was bigger and stronger than me. I didn’t get the feeling he was going to hurt me in any way, but he was powerful and authoritative. It seemed he had made a decision and there would no further debate. This was happening.

Without waiting for my approval, Jack began untying my sneaker. I was a little worried. Knowing we would be doing a lot of walking and then standing all night at an outdoor concert, I had decided to wear my most comfortable shoes. That happened to be my oldest and most beat up pair of classic Reeboks. They were worn and comfortable, but being tattered and overused, they tended to leave behind a slight case of foot odor. There was not much I could do about that now.

He finished untying the lace, loosened the shoe and slipped it off my foot. Having been trapped inside my shoe all day, my foot was a little sweaty. I immediately felt the air conditioned coolness of the car through my damp sock. Jack set my shoe down and began to massage my socked foot with both hands. He had strong hands and he was doing an expert job. I caught a whiff of my own musky stink and flushed a little in embarrassment. If I was noticing it across the car, what was it like for Jack, with my offending foot 9 inched below his nose? I watched him but he showed no reaction. Jack continued the massage and it felt really good. The music was still loud and I was sure that Brad and Matt had no idea about what was happening right behind them.

Jack decided it was time to remove my sock. Obviously my sock wasn’t going to get his “new shorts” dirty. He was taking charge and doing as he pleased. He hooked a finger inside and pulled it off my foot. He didn’t ask for permission and I offered no resistance. He tucked the sock neatly inside my shoe ensuring it wouldn’t get lost. What a gentleman. He looked at my newly naked foot for a moment, appraising it, or maybe planning his attack. As it happened, he didn’t attack my foot. He did tickle it lightly, but not in torturous way. He drew lines up my arch with his fingers. He rubbed my toes. He lightly scratched my calloused heel. He would tease my foot, then massage it some more. This complete stranger was being personal and sensual. I noticed that while all of this was going on, Jack had a swell in his crotch that matched my own.

When he seemed to have finished, he turned to me and said, “Your right leg looks awfully uncomfortable bent in that position. We better get you straighten out before you cramp up.”

Again, he wasn’t asking. He grasped my right ankle, lifted my foot and stretched my leg out onto his lap. He immediately began untying my shoe lace. He must have realized that these old, comfy, worn shoes just slipped right on and off without untying the laces, but I think this was all part of the performance. He slipped the right shoe off and, before setting it down, he bent back the tongue of the shoe and read my size. He looked at me, smiled and said, “Just what I thought, a perfect 10.”

The program on my right side ran in reverse of the experience from my left. Without any foreplay, the sock was coming off. Still damp with my sweat, he peeled it off my foot inside out. I saw him discreetly sneak a sniff of the toe end and his eyes widened in reaction. I too caught another whiff of my ripe scent and I again blushed in shame.

My right foot now lay in wait. Just out of its shoe and sock it was freshly moist and sensitive. Jack wasn’t as gentle on this foot. I don’t know if on my left foot he was more careful to not cause me to react in a way kaçak bahis that might aggravate my injured knee or if he was just taking things to a higher level at this stage of his game. He started in with swipes and strokes that had me flinching and twitching. He was clearly enjoying himself and I was worried about what was to come. He did stop short of a tickle torture though and I was able to prevent myself from screaming out in laughter.

Once he was done teasing and tantalizing the new foot, he transitioned to a massage that had me once again had me closing my eyes and moaning softly in pleasure. His massaging hands eventually worked their way up my leg and things ended similarly to how they had begun.

As we got closer to our destination, I did not need to re-dress my feet. Jack took care of me. He put my socks and shoes back on for me, even retying my shoelaces. It was like I was his possession. A toy to play with. A doll to dress.

Brad parked and we got out of the car. My knee felt a little better and I walked to the venue without much incident. In the audience, we were arranged with Matt on the left, then Brad, Jack and me on the right. All through the evening, whenever Jack would talk to me he would incorporate a physical touch of some kind. Sometimes it would just be a touch on my forearm. Other times a playful nudge or a gentle punch to the shoulder. Once he placed his palm flat on my sternum and told me why a particular Garth Brooks song was his favorite.

Each time Jack needed to leave for another beer run or a bathroom trip, he would manhandle me as moved by. One time he slipped behind me and put each of his hands on my soft sides above the hips and below the ribs. He squeezed and tickled me there before removing his hands and moving on. Another time he turned his body to a 45 degree angle to shield what he did to me from Brad and Matt’s view. He slipped his hands under my shirt and performed the same maneuver on bare skin. He then slipped his hands around to my front, like a hug from behind. His hands explored my chest and stomach like a blind person using his hands to see. Next he pressed his lips to my ear and whispered, “I know you’re enjoying all of this as much as I am.” I’m sure Jack felt the goose bumps that he caused to pop up all over my body from his breathy whisper and groping hands fluttered along my sensitive lower abdomen. His dancing fingers eventually found my round, innie belly button and he gave it a swirl before removing his hands, disappearing into the crown and leaving me standing there all tingly and flushed.

At one point deep into the show, Garth did a cover of Billy Joel’s Piano Man. This was the only song I really knew all night. That song, of course, is a huge crowd favorite and the audience was participating in the performance enthusiastically. Everyone had one arm around the person next to them and the other holding up their beer as they howled along, “Sing us a song, you’re the Piano Man, Sing us a song tonight, Well we’re all in the mood for a melody, And you’ve got us feeling all right…” Jack took this opportunity to wrap his right arm around my shoulder and pull me into him. I reciprocated and embraced him back with my left arm.

It ended up being a good show, despite my preference for almost any other kind of music besides country. As we walked our way back to the car, Matt offered me the front seat for the ride back. I glanced at Jack who gave me a wink. I replied to Matt, “Thanks man, but I’m good in the back” and I winked back at Jack.

Three weeks later, Brad called me and said his cousin Jack was in town for the weekend again and he asked me if I wanted to come over for some pizza and poker. I said I’d be there. With Jack, I had no idea what the night might bring but I knew I would wear my old beat up classic Reeboks.

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