by Biff
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I was eighteen, my senior year of high school, and I had learned lots about the foot, shoe and sock fetish I had. Over the past 3 to 4 years I had come to love my fetish time and the new experiences I had encountered. In fact I had gotten fairly good at recognizing a fellow foot admirers.
It was a hurried day, lots of stuff going on at the house. My brothers were fighting, my parents were at their wits end, and I was trying to gather all my things for the day at school. I rushed out the door with my back pack and extra bags full of items for reports and my track uniform and track shoes. Arriving at school I meet Mr. Sandler. An average height man with dark hair and eyes, strong Italian features (although I don't think he was full Italian decent) a great speaking voice and awesome feet and shoes. He always wore unique and quirky kinds of socks, never plain black or brown or even plain white on days in tennis shoes.
At a school cook-out sort of thing last spring I had seen him in sandals--he had the most beautiful feet. I mean beautiful slender feet with long toes and nicely formed arches. I figured he worn about a size 10 narrow shoe. I remember starring at his feet that day and thinking how cool it would be to wear his demanding black cap toe shoes or the brown ones. I bet he could wear my size 9 or 91/2 's easily. As I stared at his feet that day he wiggled his toes in the warm air, if he only ever knew what that did to me!
As I stood face to face with him I couldn't help but see his blue eyes sparkling with a inner special something. I found my eyes shifting to see what shoes and socks he had on. Excellent, he had on his black cap toe. His pants of gray wool hung too low for me to see his socks. They might be navy blue from the hint of sock that was visible.
Mr. Sandler was the debate team advisor. He began the conversation upon our meeting in the hall with, "Hey Jeff. How we doing today? Ready for that county wide debate today?"
My blood ran cold. Today? Surly I had not forgotten a county wide debate!
Mr. Sandler must have seen the panic in my eyes because his response was, "You do remember we have the county wide debate today?" He had to repeat, "County wide?" That meant leaving school, coat and tie, dress clothes ....
I opened my mouth and spoke the most honest thing I knew, since I was so caught off guard. "I did not remember Mr. Sandler, but I can be ready to debate, no problem."
"Good he replied. I will see you in my room dressed and ready to go at 1:35." and he started to walk away.
"Mr. Sandler," I called out, "I don't have any dress clothes. The only clothes I have are my jeans, tennis shoes and ... well these here track clothes."
"Well Jeff, can you call home and get your mom to bring something for you. You know that will count off the whole team if we are not all in proper uniform. Jeff, you are the main member of this team, you know that."
Mr. Sandler was my most admired and favorite teacher ...even beyond his physical look and those awesome feet. He was honest, fair, fun and made school and learning worthwhile. I couldn't lie to him. "I can't sir." I replied "My dad is out of town and my mom is, also. Both are going to be gone all day."
Mr. Sandler's face went almost ghost white his eyes lost their sparkle. What had I done? how could I have been so stupid? Of all the teachers in school, I had let Mr. Sandler down. I felt like shit. Then with a burst of energy and excitement, he moved over next to me, shoulder to shoulder and said, "Put your things down and stand tall and still."
I did so not knowing if he was going to have me punished or if he was going to beat me over the head. He stood at my side measuring up by my shoulder to his shoulder, lifted his jacket and stepped close to my hip ... measuring the belt placement of our two bodies. He then stepped in front of me and said, "lift your arms out to the sides", and he stepped closer and held his arms out with mine--our hands touching. He was close. Close enough to kiss. My body trembled. I could smell his manliness mixed with his cologne. His blue eyes sparking again ... his course beard freshly shaven, and his strong sculptured nose right at my face. (Please, God not a boner not now!). Before any real damage was done in my groin area, Mr. Sandler stepped back and said, "I think we can make this work. Meet me in my room ... or better yet, in the auditorium dressing room at one o'clock. Here's a pass to get you out of class." Taking hold of my shoulders he said, "Jeff my man, don't you worry about a thing. Just be ready to debate."
Having said that he turned and walked down the hall. After a few steps he turned, smiled pointed a finger toward me and said, "One o'clock dressing room, got it?" he winked at me.
Nodding my head and winking back I said, "Got it."
God I loved Mr. Sandler! Great teacher, great guy, great looker. I went about my day and at 1:00 headed to the auditorium wondering what he was planning. Was Mr. Sandler going to try and devise an outfit for me from the stock of old jackets and things in the dressing rooms? Clever, but the stuff in those rooms was pretty raunchy, even a dude like Mr. Sandler would be amazing beyond belief to accomplish that.
I arrived at the auditorium and went to the dressing room. Mr. Sandler had the door opened only a crack, so I knocked.
"That you Jeff?" he shouted.
"Yes" I replied.
"Come on in your gonna love this idea." No way! He wasn't really gonna make an outfit from those rags in there, was he?
I stepped into the room. He had on an old plaid shirt form the costume stock and what appeared to be his own black blazer. But on his legs, there was only hair, lots of it thick black hair, surrounding long muscular thighs blending into thick fully toned calves. No socks and shoes. I looked to the side and there were those socks navy blue, (I was right!) but with small little yellow designs on the sides. I starred wide eyed I am sure, and prayed not to get an erection.
"Hey, don't be shocked. Here, now. No funny stuff. You are just gonna wear my clothes and I am going to wear your jeans and shoes."
With that I knew I was in trouble. Mr. Sandler was not a foot guy like me and if I got a hard-on what would he think? Some things are just not to be told to everyone and I dearly admired Mr. Sandler.
"Come on, Jeff we don't have allot of time. Get the jeans off and get my shirt and pants on."
I took off my sweat shirt put on his yellow shirt, (hey, I thought that's why he has yellow in his navy blue socks). I slipped the pants on as Mr. Sandler spoke, "I guess you were sort of confused earlier today, well my brain was thinking, I mean I knew I had a jacket in my car ready to go to the dry cleaners ... and I figured a shirt of some kind would be in here that would pass as the old teacher advisor, fashion look. I measured up our bodies and we looked to be about the same. I never asked your waist size, how do those pants fit. They are 31/32 with a 33 inseam ... they okay?
"Yes, fine ... shirt too." I replied.
He came over and said now put the blazer on. It fit too. Too well! I felt the beginnings of a hard on! This was not right! This was Mr. Sandler! Control ... I must control!
He turned me around and said, "Strappin' man, you look good." He looked down at my feet and said, "Now those won't do at all. White socks with gray slacks, nah. Give me those. "I didn't ask what size shoe you wore Jeff, I just always looked at your feet and figured you were a 9 to 10. What size are they ?"
"Well, the tennis shoes are a 9 and a half medium," I answered, as I removed the socks. Was he going to shod me in his shoes and socks? Shit! I will come all over myself.
Taking the socks form my hands he said, "I hope you don't mind wearing my socks. They may smell a little, but no foot fungus or such thing. The shoes are a 10 narrow, but will fit you fine I am sure. You know that there is only a one fourth of and inch difference in most shoe size measurements."
What an odd piece of information for someone to know. Oh well. He brought me his socks and shoes, putting the socks to my nose, he said, "Not too bad, ya think?"
"Hail Mary full of grace blessed are' ...". I began to pray silently for fear of a major erection. Mr. Sandler then sniffed my socks as he sat in a chair to put them on. "Nice." he said, "Not a bad odor. Some athletes feet smell so bad ... these socks are just sweaty and musty smelling. Guess that is from the sneakers."
Wow! Was there something about Mr. Sandler no one knew? Nah, He was just a great guy who knew how to hold conversations and was just trying to make me feel comfortable. Thinking I should do the same, I said, "You gonna wear my sneakers."
"Sure thing," he replied.
"Think they will fit you okay?" I asked.
"I am sure they will be great. Hey, they are yours ... the jeans fit didn't they? Besides I think I will like wearing your socks and shoes."
Wooo! I thought. Nah, he is just trying to make me feel good about wearing his shoes and socks. If he only knew! He smiled and gave a lighthearted chuckle as he slipped on my sneakers. "Hey," he said, "You know Jeff, you just gotta love the way a sweaty pair of tennis shoes feel on your feet ... especially in already sweaty socks."
"What?" I thought to my self. I felt the need to keep the conversation going. Besides it helped me to not focus on the feeling that I had to fight. "You know I have always liked these shoes ... that is when I saw them on you ... I mean ... I think they are hot ... cool ... I mean ..."
I was not doing well spitting out words--nervous and just plain being an idiot. Mr. Sandler smiled through another lighthearted chuckle as he said, "I understand. I know what you mean. I like them too. They are my favorite shoes. They speak out. They say 'class' 'power' 'strength'. You know what I mean ?" He looked me straight in the eye. His blue eyes so sincere at that moment. After a short fixed gaze he said, "Okay, shoes tied ... stand up and get this tie on Jeff buddy."
There was not a mirror in the dressing room and I could hardly tie a tie as it was. How was I going to make this not look like 'little dumb ass Jeffy'?
Mr. Sandler is the coolest. He must have noticed my inability to do this task, because he looked at me (as he finished tying the old black tie that had been in every show at the school around his own neck.) and said, "Tuff tying these things on without mirrors. Here, you check mine and I'll check yours."
Standing front to front, face to face and eye level, I forced myself not to look into his eyes ... only at his neck and tie. His olive complexion against that five o'clock shadow beard. That adams apple moving gently up and down as he tilted his head from right to left front to back to tie my ( what I wanted it to be at this moment was a noose to strangle me and relieve me of the misery of fighting off my feelings inside).
"There," he said, "best looking guy at this school. At least I think so." Then he quickly slapped a peck-kiss on my lips, his hands on my shoulders. After a short stare into my eyes, he took a deep cleansing breath and, grabbing tight to my shoulders he said, "Now let's go get 'em, tiger" with a squeeze he was moving out the door. I took a groin check, so far so good (down boy, down!) and I followed.
On the bus I sat with David, Tim and Alice. We talked about the debate and discussed tactics. Mr. Sandler sat three rows up on the other side. Every so often I'd look over to catch him looking toward me, and he'd smile. Once he looked in my direction and pushed his tie up around his neck and then pointed to me and gestured "you and me" and then held up his thumbs. I smiled and held up my thumb in response, figuring he was saying, "hey we look sharp."
Another time I went up to speak to Mary at the front of the bus. As I was going down the isle Mr. Sandler's feet were in the way I stopped and started to say excuse me, and he pointed to his feet in my sneakers and to my feet in his shoes (those awesome shoes, they fit like a glove and were sweaty inside and had imprints on the inside toe area where his feet must have made impressions) and moved his feet out of the isle as he shook his hands in the 'hot' symbol.
We got to the debate and Mr. Sandler briefed us on final tactics and strategies. As he finished, everyone went to there places ... but he stopped me from behind. Squeezing my shoulders he whispered in my ear, "Don't think about the clothes and shoes, you look great. Think only about the debate. Do me proud and I will reward you well."
I was even more confused now that he was sending me messages. No, not Mr. Sandler ... he was just being the enthusiastic teacher, and rewards were grades and free passes on homework. The debate went well and we won the county title. Mr. Sandler smiled at me and then gave me a hug saying, "Thanks Jeff. Great work." I knew then that I was just fantasizing ... foot foolish me.
The ride back to the school was quick--everyone laughing and cutting up after our win. At school Mr. Sandler allowed us to use the phone in the office to call parents. Mine weren't home, so I asked for a phone book to look up my aunt's number. My aunt wasn't home. I told Mr. Sandler to just go ahead and leave and I would be fine.
"Why don't I just take you home. You got on my things anyway and I have on yours. We could change there and all will be well."
Damn, I thought. I was hoping to have the chance to sniff his socks and shoes all night while I stroked my meat. But this would be best. I didn't need to be getting all excited over Mr. Sandler ... he was not a foot fetish guy. And he was Mr. Sandler my teacher!
"Well, okay if you don't mind." I got in his car--a hot little convertible. And as we drove he talked about places he had been and some things he had done.
"Hey, wanna get some pizza, Jeff. I am pretty hungry and don't want to eat alone after this big day of winnings ... and my girlfriend is out town on business."
He stopped and got pizza and sent me to get some liter drinks at the grocery store. When I got back to the car he was not there yet. I sat waiting and noticed a pair of sneakers in the back seat. Why did he need mine if he had some in the car? I reached back and picked one up. I couldn't help myself and smelled it; absolutely awesome old musty, slight odor and definite sweat smell. I happen to notice the size it was a 9 and a half. I saw Mr. Sandler coming across the parking lot and quickly threw the sneaker back where it was.
"I think eating at my place will be better, don't you? We can both change and then eat, while we watch a movie or something. Oh, I called your house, Jeff ... no one is there yet. Is there someone we should call?
"Nah," I replied, "they'll think I went to a friend's."
At the house, Mr. Sandler put me to work getting napkins and forks and plates while he got glasses and such. At one point we ran smack into each other in the kitchenette area. He looked at me, gave a laugh and then reached up to loosen the tie, "Here lets get comfortable." He said, and loosened his tie also. The flash back of his fixing my tie in the dressing room followed by a quick peck-kiss, made my groin shiver. He went to the sitting room and threw his jacket on the chair as he sat on the floor. He yelled to me to throw him my jacket (it was his jacket but I wished it were mine ... I hated taking it off but, 'c'est la vie' ). I did, and he tossed it on the chair. I came over after collecting the last of the napkins and he said, "Hey, Jeff, cut the big light out would you?"
Mr. Sandler was so cool. Looking over at him sitting on the floor one leg stretched and the other bent foot on the floor. My jeans and socks and shoes never looked so good. Good god this man was hot. I felt so relaxed and at home. He was 'the man'. I came over and sat on the small sofa. "Grab a pillow and sit on the floor, Jeff. We can relax and eat."
I did and we began to dig into the pizza. He took off his shoes (my sneakers) and just tossed them aside. The smell was too cool ... his man-sweat had blended with my sweat and made the shoes so inviting, but I lived with it. I felt so relaxed now. The site of his feet in white socks was driving me crazy. Even more wild was the thought of them being my socks on his feet, filling with sweat from his body and feet.
As we ate the pizza and watched the movie. We laughed and talked. At one point he got me laughing so hard I got pizza all over my face and spit coke out of my mouth. Both of us laughing till tears. He leaned over and began blotting my shirt (not my shirt, his yellow shirt... the one where the arm pits have been making my nose hairs scream with excitement all day, and where the scent of cologne sent chills up and down my spine) "Oh, Mr. Sandler. I am so sorry. My mo--" I began.
"It is okay Jeff, it is fine. It will clean up great." he soothed. With that said, he began wiping the pizza from my face. He looked at me and leaning in. He licked the corner of my mouth with his snake like tongue saying, " Ummm ... that's a spot I missed." He went back to eating and then out of nowhere said, "Hey Jeff, you need to get going. Lets get changed ... take those shoes off. "
Wow. That was abrupt, I thought. The fun was over. What was this ? I was having a good time. He seemed to be having the same good time.
I leaned over to take the shoes off. I was doing this, and what happened next was unbelievable to me. Mr. Sandler laid down at my feet and smelled them long, deep inhales and exhales and with great power of want and desire. "Awesome Jeff," sighing he added "simply awesome. I have wanted to smell your feet and see them naked for many months. You look so hot in my clothes today. I have been fighting this desire all day." He began to take the socks off. Getting one off he said, "Would you like me to stop, I will." I looked at him. Smiling, I shook my head 'No'. And he stood up to say, "What do you think? I look good to you?" No way was Mr. Sandler into feet and the scene I was into. This could not be for real.
I figured what the hell and said, "Look good. The only thing hotter than you is my groin. And I'll be damned if I'm going to leave without you going there. Let me smell those feet, 'tiger'."
Smiling, he knelt down, slid the other sock off my foot and began licking and nibbling my toes. As he moved his feet to my face, I sniffed and he moaned and giggled and sighed. A 69 position I longed for was finally here. Then I removed the socks and began on his long slender feet. You know the rest. Mr. Sandler is still the best teacher ever.
