Randy's First Step
by Casper D

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My name is Randy and I've found that my thoughts and feelings aren't quite what you'd call natural.

I mean, I'd always thought they were, but lately I've been discovering just how askew they really are. I'm twenty-two now and I'm no longer living at home. My mother kicked me out of the house for her own reasons and because of a lot of things that were happening at the time which I guess I was responsible for but I don't really like to see it that way. I haven't seen or spoken to my sister Kevin in four months. I can't go home again. I can't call. I can't make contact. I'm not wanted there. But I still think of her. A lot. Every night in fact. More so than I did when I was living at home.

And it's not like I'm thinking about him in good ways, either, like wondering how he's doing, if he's ok, that kind of shit. It's all sexual stuff. Every set of soles I dream of licking are attached to bodies with Kevin’s face. Every toe I imagine sucking is his. Every naked body I catch a glimpse of is his . . . eighteen years old, standing in front of the mirror, still at the peak of his own awakened hetero sexuality. Some kind of moment frozen in time. And I can't seem to get past that.

But I think, I sort of understand, what's going on. I think maybe it has to do with a certain need inside myself that I have to prevail over. See, I've always found myself attracted to guys I could never have. Football players, movie stars … anyone totally unavailable to me..

And maybe that's why I have this fascination with my stepbrother Kevin. I mean, he's totally hot. He has honey blond hair and huge sea-green eyes. He’s muscled and slender AT THE SAME TIME! I know that sounds almost impossible, but his muscles are compact like that. And, best of all, he has the most beautiful size 12 feet. His smooth soles, his perfectly-shaped toes . . . even the rosy coloring were completely without blemish!

As hard as I might try, as big a jerk as he may be, I'd still have a better shot with my own Dad. And that isn't about to happen either, not that I'm at all interested in that kind of thing anyway. But you can see where I'm going. And maybe it has something to do with my late blooming and the fact that from the very beginning, from his birth (after the unholy union between my Dad and his mom), I'd associated his purely with sex. And I especially liked his feet because, though they looked perfect, they smelled.

A classic case of a flaw hidden within what is seemingly perfect.

It could purely be a symbolic thing. I don't know, but the fact remains, that I'm still very sexually attracted to not only my stepbrother, but my stepbrother’s FEET! I have to somehow overcome this obstacle before I can move on and have any kind of healthy relationship with another person, don't you agree? And the only way to truly get past this is to just go ahead and suck on his toes while he’s asleep. Or beg to lick his soles while he’s awake. Which I'm certainly not about to do.

At least not yet anyway.

So, yes, I do want to lick the soles of my stepbrother’s feet. Boy, do I ever! But I won't. Not necessarily because I think it's wrong, but because it'll never happen. He'll never let it happen. And no, I certainly don't think it's wrong. I mean, it might be wrong to lick the sweaty soles of your step sibling, that's not really for me to say, but that's not what I'm addressing here. What I'm talking about are the feelings. The feelings of wanting to lick his soles and suck on his toes, not the actual act itself. And is that wrong? I mean, in my opinion, any feeling is valid and ok. It's acting on these feelings and impulses which is wrong. And it's not like we're talking love, or relationships, or marriage or anything. Just foot worshipping. Plain old male-on-male foot worshipping. And that isn't that bad. Is it?

I dunno.