by dragonboi95
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I recently graduated from paramedic school. Being a medic is a pretty hectic and stressful job, running around to different emergencies to save lives.
It also takes a special kind of person to do the job. Many of the people in my class had similar backgrounds: high school educations, physically fit, and looking to do something with their lives.
I secretly have a love for the feet of good looking guys, and my class was full of people who lived up to my standard. During one of our first skills days, my prayers were answered when we had to practice patient assessments on each other. For those of you not familiar with patient assessments, paramedics have to examine patients head to TOE, meaning we'd have to go barefoot in class.
It was kind of ironic because our lead instructor started off by telling us not to be shy with each other and that we'd be baring our feet for each other today. He joked that this was the day we should have gotten pedicures and to watch out for "weirdos who had a thing for feet." I laughed along with the rest of the class as he passed along the attention to our other instructor, Jeff, a tall, skinny, yet built, white guy who was a current medic. Each time he taught, I couldn't help but stare at his ankles and what was inside his HUGE (had to have been at least a size 13) running shoes.
Jeff called all of us to form a half circle around him and chose a volunteer from the group to demonstrate how to do the assessment. He chose Andres, a handsome, young Latino guy. Andres was clean cut and had a good sense of taste when it came to clothing, designer t-shirts that we're tight against his body, jeans, and nice Nikes. Jeff had Andres lie on the ground as Jeff started at Andres' head and worked his way down, explaining what to look for at each part of his body.
Finally, when Jeff got to Andres' legs, he said that "you can't check the feet if they're inside shoes and socks." Then, without even really asking, Jeff quickly pulled off both of Andres' black Nikes and slipped off his white ankle socks simultaneously, revealing Andres' freshly bared Latin feet. Andres looked a little nervous when Jeff did this, but did not say a word. His toes were nice, with his big toes pointing slightly inward so that he almost had bunions, but they were clean and his toenails were well groomed and short. Jeff had us look closely to see how he took a pulse from the tops of each of Andres' feet, and I was definitely looking closely at his sweaty feet and kind of jealous that Jeff had his big hands wrapped around the soles of each of Andres' feet.
Now it was our turn to practice on each other. We randomly partnered up, and me being a little sneaky, I chose one of the best looking guys in class. His name was Andrew, a light-skinned Filipino guy from Hawaii. You could tell he was an islander by his accent, and he had tattoos on his arms and legs. He was also really fit, a former policeman, and had a wife and a kid. On this day, he was wearing a simple white tee with black jeans and the same black Addidas and black socks he typically wore. I got to go first and perform the assessment on him, so he decided to just take off his shoes and socks before I even started. I knelt down on the ground next to him while he was still standing up. He slipped out of his shoes easily by stepping on the heel of the other, but when he started rolling down each sock while he stood near my face, I couldn't stand my excitement. They didn't smell bad at all, smelling like his cologne.
I stared at his beautiful white feet, with toenails well groomed, toes long and skinny, the tops of his feet veiny and a little sweaty from being inside his shoes, and the tattoos on his calf reaching down to the top of his right foot. I asked him if it hurt when they tattooed his foot, and he admitted he was tearing up as they poked his foot. I laughed. I rushed through the upper portions of his body as I did the exam until I reached his feet. As he lay there, I stared at the soles of his feet. They weren't too big, but nice too look at. His second toe was definitely longer than his big toe. I pretended not to be able to find his foot pulse at first so I could fool around with his feet and rub them to find it. I even had my face and nose so close as to see what I was doing more easily. It was amazing.
Then we switched places so he could do it on me. As I lay there, I looked around the room to get glimpses of all the other sweet feet in the room. There were guys there who I could only dream about seeing their bare feet. I especially have an attraction for guys baring their feet fully dressed because I think you get their personalities at the same time. For example, there was a guy who also went to the fire academy and wore their uniform to class each day: a navy blue t-shirt with blue Dickies and black leather boots. He was a young Mexican guy who had a militaristic look to him.
I loved watching him unlace those black boots and taking off his long, white socks to reveal a pair of sweaty, veiny, Latin feet. Then there was a group of short Mexican guys, maybe first or second-years in college, who I liked to call the 'Three Amigos.' They were always together and pretty immature in class, but they looked like little gangsters. They were making fun of each others' feet and the way they smelled when they had to take off their dunks. They especially made fun of the shortest of the three for having feet that were so small that they always poked fun of him for being like a child. Lastly, my eyes came to the big, manly feet of a white guy, large build, who always dressed up like a mix between a white-rapper and a skater boy. Picture a guy, possibly Irish, with a red hat, white t-shirt, black jeans, and skater shoes. I bet his partner was having a great time fondling his bare soles in blue jeans with his shoes and socks right next to him.
Let's just say, this was one of the best times I had in the class.
