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He's comfortable with being gay. And yet, even in these modern times, he's found something about himself that he'd rather keep secret from his classmates. What happens when his secret is found out?\n\nIf the thumbnail didn't make it clear, this has cub and fetish content, so be forewarned (or encouraged, depending on what you think of that sort of thing).", "description_bbcode_parsed": "Wes is skunk who is just about as far out of the closet as it gets. He's comfortable with being gay. And yet, even in these modern times, he's found something about himself that he'd rather keep secret from his classmates. What happens when his secret is found out?

If the thumbnail didn't make it clear, this has cub and fetish content, so be forewarned (or encouraged, depending on what you think of that sort of thing).", "writing": "“Wes, everything okay?” Dad knocked on my door again, less patiently than the first time.\n\n“Yeah. I'm coming!” A poor choice of words on my part; too close to the truth. I somehow managed to get stuffed back into my underwear, then fumbled for my pants zipper. \n\nAnother knock. “Wes?”\n\nDarn it! Gotta hurry! Hide the jerkoff material under the bed or back on the bookshelf? I ran to the bookshelf, stashed the book I'd been looking in, then ran towards the door, belly tight with nervousness. I looked okay by normal standards, though I still felt as good as naked. \n\nI unlocked my door, one paw behind my back to hide the last evidence of my afterschool jerk-off session. “Yeah, Dad?” I asked, opening the door a crack, keeping my lower half blocked by the door, just in case. \n\n“Got your laundry here, ironed and folded.” \n\nShoot! I'd need both hands. I threw what I'd been hiding down to the floor behind me, letting it land noiselessly as I opened the door wider, enough to take the basket Dad held. “I'll get them in the drawers right away. Thanks, Dad!” I started to close the door. \n\nDad stopped it with a hand. “You sure you're all right?” He started to look at me, up and down. I scrunched my toes uncomfortably. He didn't see anything unusual, but he wouldn't. “You're not sick or anything?” He touched his palm to my nose, which was still cool and damp. Still a healthy skunk, just like him.\n\n“I'm fine. Really. I better get on putting my clothes away, Dad. I'll be downstairs soon. Soonish.”\n\nDad's expression changed from his concerned frown to a smile. He was buying it! “All right.” One last, appraising look, and he turned to go. \n\nAs soon as his fingers were clear of the door, I shut it. I tossed the basket of clothes on my bed, then stooped to gather what I was trying to hide, a pair of socks.\n\nThere was nothing special about these socks. They were clean socks! I wasn't using them for a cum rag or anything. No, I was hiding them from Dad for the same reason I had tried to hide behind the door: I didn't want him to see that I was barefoot. Because for me, that was the same as advertising that I was jerking it.\n\nI'm what you might call foot-shy. Even though I know, in my head, that plenty of people go without shoes with no scandal, just the thought of having someone seeing my feet gets me all red in my ears. I might as well just rip off the rest of my clothes, as long as I'm flashing the parts that make me the stiffest. Which was why the socks were off in the first place. Barefoot? Insta-boner.\n\nI guess I'm wired up funny, getting off on my own feet. And I was pretty sure I'd managed to hide that weirdness from everyone, at least up until then.\n\nIt was in math class that things started to go wrong. I expected math to be rough that day. It wasn't just because Mr. Lincoln liked to hold quizzes on Fridays. I'd studied, as always, and finished the quiz before everyone else. No, an easy quiz was part of the problem. My problems aren't ever simple.\n\nBrenden was the other half of that equation. A finished quiz meant that I had little else to do but look around, and since Brenden sat in front of me, that's who I tended to see. He was a cute mouse; he had a nice smile, but of course with his back to me, it's impossible to see a smile. No, my problem with Brenden is that he couldn't keep his shoes on.\n\nThe show started even as I finished the last of my quiz. His feet jittered, the toes of his sneakers nudging against the legs of his chair, hooking around them for a moment before he brought his feet closer. Heels rubbed together, loosening one shoe, bit by bit. He wasn't wearing socks today (not that socks guaranteed I'd be without a show, either). His heel came into view, and further along, his sole, partly shadowed until he slipped that sneaker off. Brenden's toes worked and wriggled, as if they were happy to be free from the shoe. \n\nThe other sneaker didn't stay on for long, to my delight and dismay. If only he had a big skunk tail like mine, I probably wouldn't see a thing.\n\nBut he had a whip-thin tail. So, I got to watch Brenden's feet flex and move around while he fidgeted in his seat. If I had to describe them, I'd say they were...mm, pink. His soles were pretty, smooth and deliciously pink, unlike the black bottoms on mine. They looked soft and supple, even though it seemed like he wasn't that fond of shoes. And if my own feet make me stiff, well...Brenden's were even better.\n\nI had become so engrossed in watching all that toe-wiggling, in watching the way those soles wrinkled and stretched taut again, that I didn't even notice the tapping on my shoulder at first. Only when it became a little shove did I sit up. “Huh?”\n\n“Take the papers, geez,” said the girl behind me, shoving the stack towards me. \n\nI had zoned out enough that I didn't realize the quiz was over. I sat up quick, did my best to keep my ears from going flat, and added my paper to the stack before passing it forward, then sunk my hips under the desk to try to hide my tented pants. At least Mr. Lincoln wasn't the sort to call students up to the front of class.\n\nBrenden turned and took the papers from me. I sat back, trying so hard not to look back down. It was only then that I noticed the little folded triangle of paper on my desk. I glanced around, then down at the paper. I reached for it, started to unfold it—\n\nAnd had it plucked out of my fingers. “I'll take that until after class, Wesley,” said Mr. Lincoln. \n\nI slumped a little more in my seat as giggles came from the class. Busted! I was extra-careful to focus on algebra for the rest of the period.\n\nWhen class was over, I padded up to the teacher's desk. On the bright side, fear of detention is an excellent boner-killer! \n\n“Let's see what couldn't wait until after class,” said Mr. Lincoln. He opened up the note, started reading, then looked up in a hurry. It was sort of weird to see a big old horse like him suddenly look embarrassed. He folded the note in half and handed it over. “No reading notes in class, even if you're not the one passing them. You may go.”\n\nOh geez, I felt lucky then. I escaped as fast as I could, then found a place in the hall where I could read the note without being bothered. \n\n[i]Do you want to go on a date? We could watch a movie or something.\n\n-Brenden[/i]\n\nOh, wow. \n\nI had no idea. I mean, the offer itself wasn't anything shocking. Brenden wouldn't even be the first boy that I've gone out with, and at school these days, there's plenty of kids out and proud. I don't hide the fact that I'm into boys, either; having two dads in the PTA meant that a lot of people made some (correct) assumptions about me, and I'd never deny [i]that[/i]. \n\nBut I'd never really pegged Brenden as gay (I could hear Dad lecturing me about stereotyping already). Normally, I'd say yes right away—like I said, he's cute—but with [i]his[/i] feet? Ogling them while sitting behind him in class was one thing, but one on one, I was sure he'd notice me staring. No, this was big trouble for me.\n\nMaybe I could pretend I didn't get the note, that Lincoln held onto it. Maybe he'd forget. No, I couldn't do anything about this, no matter how cute his feet were. [i]Especially[/i] because of how cute his feet were. I'd just have to act natural and—\n\n“Did Mr. Lincoln give you the note back?” Shoot, Brenden! I jumped, squeezing that very note so hard that it crumpled in my fist.\n\nI turned around and found the mouse there, looking pretty worried. All I had to do was lie, say that Mr. Lincoln kept it. He'd probably lose his nerve to ask a second time. I took a deep breath. Just gotta do it. One little lie. “Oh, uh...yeah. Yeah, he did.” I completely choked. So much for that.\n\n“Oh. Did you read it?”\n\n“Y-e-es.”\n\n“Um. So...” His buck teeth nibbled on his lower lip as he trailed off, and his ears turned scarlet. Why did he have to be so cute?\n\n“Maybe this weekend, we could do something?” I suggested. I could go blind before then. Or we'd find some activity that required boots to be worn. Except it was springtime, so it wasn't likely we'd get snow.\n\nAlready, I could picture those feet near me through a whole date. And creaming my jeans on that date. And having Brenden tell the whole school about that date, so everyone could share in the laughter. Look it's Wes! Don't wear sandals around him, he'll bust right out of his pants.\n\nI realized that Brenden was looking at me, still faintly worried. “...Wes? Did you hear me? Which one did you want to do?”\n\n“Oh, um.” I bit my lip. What did he ask? “The...first one?”\n\nWes smiled and relaxed. “Great. Uh, text me your address later. I'll meet you at your house, and we can hit the movies from there.”\n\nMaybe he'll be able to keep his shoes on through a whole movie. I can get through this! It's that easy. Except I've never seen him keep his shoes on through even a single period of math class.\n\nShoot!\n\n[center]*****[/center]\n\nI looked out the front window again. Maybe he wouldn't come. That'd be...well, not great. I didn't want to be stood up. But it'd complicate things less. I was dressed decent for my date, in jeans that were nice for a Saturday, and a t-shirt that wasn't ragged. Socks and sneakers on my feet, of course. \n\nPapa touched my shoulder. “I'm sure he's just running a little late.”\n\n“I know,” I lied. I leaned up against Papa's front, and he purred. That helped to relax me a little. One of the benefits for having a tiger for one of my fathers.\n\nUnfortunately, when Brenden and I had tried to pin down a good time for a movie, we'd discovered that there wasn't anything good playing. Bunch of R-rated stuff (which he wasn't allowed to see), and a bunch of silly G-rated movies (which I'd already dragged Dad and Papa out to). So, he was going to bring a few movies and we'd pick between those. \n\nI know that a date at my house, with my dads around, isn't exactly the best scenario. But the last time I went to the movies with a boy, Papa played chaperone, which was even less cool. That's the flip side of having a tiger for a daddy—he's super protective sometimes. I mean, I'm thirteen, almost. That's old enough for real dates on my own, right? \n\nBut, lucky me, I ended up with a date at home, with not one, but two chaperones.\n\nA car pulled up and out came Brenden. I pushed at Papa, gently, so he'd get out of the way and let me move away from the window. “He's here!” I squeaked. “I'll get the door.” Hopefully Brenden didn't notice me watching for him. He looked kind of nervous, too, so maybe he didn't. Then the bell rang and I had to take time to go through introductions, since both Dad and Papa wanted to be nosy about the boy I'd invited home.\n\nSo, introductions were made, Dad promised he'd help keep Papa at bay while Brenden and I were watching our movie, and he let me know that there were snacks in the kitchen. I managed to shoo the parents, got Brenden familiar with the remote for the entertainment center, then went to collect the snacks. \n\nI came out of the kitchen, balancing a couple of glasses of soda and a bowl of chips. Brenden was on his knees, getting a disc into the player. “Hey, Brenden,” I said, then stopped. Brenden's sneakers were already off, leaving me staring at the pair of pristine ankle socks that covered his feet. They were cute, pulled tight enough that I could see the faint outline of each toe. But he'd been wearing his shoes when I went into the kitchen, though. I glanced down the hall. They were by the door. Already, he was one layer down. I [i]knew[/i] this wasn't going to be easy.\n\n“Something the matter, Wes?”\n\nI could feel my ears burning. “Oh, uh...nope, just wondering if you were gonna fast forward past the previews.”\n\n“Oh. Yeah, sure. We can get right to it.”\n\nI set the bowl and the sodas down on the coffee table, and Brenden parked his butt over at one end of the couch. I decided to sit on the middle cushion, next to him. I tucked my feet just beneath the couch, hiding them, as I always did when sitting there.\n\nUp went Brenden's leg. He crossed it over the other, ankle on his knee. That foot started to jitter up and down.\n\nSo he wasn't just fidgety in class. I hoped that this would be as distracting as he got. I took a deep breath and did my best to focus on the TV.\n\nThe movie started up, and it was some dopey comedy. But I like dopey comedies. Maybe things would work out well. Papa and I liked funny movies, even if the jokes were dumb. Dad, not so much. Maybe Brenden could come over on family movie night or something. My dads would appreciate that.\n\nSoon, we were eating chips and I was getting Barqs up my nose, thanks to one scene. Things were going great! Brenden was having fun, and the movie was entertaining enough that I started to relax.\n\nBut then, there was a scene that stretched on way too long—a lull in the funny. I got fidgety. Worse, Brenden started to get squirmy, too. And then it was math class all over again. \n\nBrenden's fingers caught the cuff of one of his socks. It was like a little strip tease. He's show some heel, then tug the sock back up. He'd pull again, and I'd see that nice, high arch. Brenden let the sock sit there, then slowly tugged it free from wiggling toes. \n\nBy that point, I was holding the chip bowl pretty close to my lap, trying to hide my boner. He switched legs, and at least then I didn't have to see his sole when he bared the other foot. And when he relaxed, feet flat on the floor, I was able to lean back enough that I couldn't see them. \n\nA minute later, Brenden shifted again, drawing legs up onto the couch, hip turned to his side as he leaned on the armrest. Those feet were very nearly touching my leg. I could see those soles, so soft and pink. \n\nI immediately plunked over onto the cushion on the far end of the couch.\n\nBrenden gave me a look. Maybe a little worried. “Sorry. I didn't mean to crowd you.”\n\nI shook my head. “No, that's not it.” I felt pretty awful, making Brenden think he'd made me uncomfortable. Which—well, he [i]had[/i], but it really was me and not him. “I just...just wanted to give you room if you wanted to stretch your legs.”\n\nHe smiled at me. “Oh. Thanks.” That's just what he did, too, putting those feet right by me again. I was a wreck. It's pretty rough, having something you want badly right in front of you and when you can't do a darn thing about it. I tried to focus on the movie, but I kept stealing peeks at Brenden's little toes. This was the closest I'd gotten to see them, and try as I might, I couldn't resist. I felt like I was nearing my breaking point, where I wasn't quite sure I could manage to hide that I was staring anymore. \n\nSomehow, though, I made it through the movie without him noticing a thing. When the credits rolled, Brenden finally pulled those feet away. “Where's the bathroom?”\n\n“Second door on the right.” I watched him pad barefoot down the hall, and heaved a sigh of relief. This sucked! Is this what too much of a good thing was all about? At least I'd have some space to breathe while he was draining his bladder.\n\nBut not much space. A moment later, I heard, “Oh, cool! I've got the same poster.” I sat up. He was in my room! I padded into the hall where I found my door open and Brenden peeking in from the hallway. Okay, he hadn't invaded exactly, just walked by on the way back from the bathroom.\n\nBrenden smiled at me. “Is it okay if I go in? Are your dads gonna be upset if we go in there?”\n\nThis was sort of a gray area. Neither of my dads told me [i]not[/i] to go in my room with a boy. So, I shrugged. “Yeah, go ahead.” I followed him in.\n\nBrenden padded around for a moment, taking in the surroundings. “Wow, you have a TV to yourself and everything. There's so much room!” He turned, smiling. “Sorry. I share my room with a little brother, so it always feels crowded. I have to share pretty much everything. Woah. Lots of books!” Over to the bookshelf he went, head tilted so he could look over the spines.\n\nI smiled, too. He was cute, if maybe a little hyper. I liked that he was friendly, and didn't seem to worry much about looking cool.\n\nBrenden's finger came to a stop on a book. My smile went away. I didn't even have to look close to know which one he'd come across. “What's reflexology?” he asked. He took the book out and started flipping through the pages.\n\nHe didn't say anything, but I felt my face burning. I sure felt like I should say something. “Oh! Uh, that. That' s just—“ Just my favorite jerkoff material, a hundred and fifty pages of pictures of feet of all shapes, sizes, and ages. “—just something I picked up when I was doing a paper for health.” Please buy it, please buy it.\n\nBrenden glanced up from a page illustrating all sorts of pressure points on the sole. “Weird.” Yeah, weird. I felt this little lump rise in my throat. He'd said it. I knew it! I was weird. “Ever try doing it?”\n\n“Try doing what?” Then I realized what he was asking, and he may as well have asked if I was a virgin. I got shy, looking away. “Oh, no. I mean, I just read it once or twice. When doing the paper.” Twice, last night. I was pent up. \n\n“You think it works?” Brenden smiled. “You could try it out on me!”\n\nOh. Oh gosh. “You want me to rub your feet?” I asked, not really believing he was suggesting that.\n\nI must've sounded too shocked, because it became Brenden's turn to be shy, looking down at his curling toes. “I mean, if you don't wanna...”\n\n“No!” It came out so forcefully, Brenden looked stricken. “No, I mean, it's not that I don't want to.” Understatement. “I'll do it.” I looked at the door, then padded over and closed it, quiet as I could be. Locked it, too. “Okay, I think I'm—“ I turned, and Brenden was stretched out on my bed, hands behind his head, wiggling his toes playfully at me. On [i]purpose[/i]! “I'm ready.”\n\nI moved over to the bed. “So, um. Like I said, I've never done this before, so...you know. No complaining if it sucks.” I toed off my sneaker and sat at the foot of the bed, cross-legged, then made a show of flipping through the book for some quick tips, trying to make this all look official and not like I was stealing plenty of peeks at Brenden's feet. My stomach was doing flip-flops like crazy. \n\nBrenden's toes pushed against my knee. “You don't have to memorize the instructions. Just try it,” he said, smiling at me. How could he be so relaxed? \n\nI was a wreck, face warm and tail twitchy. I nearly lost my nerve and backed out. But as far as I was concerned, this was an opportunity that wasn't going to come up again. So, I reached out for his foot, took hold of his heel, and guided it up onto my knee. \n\nOh, man. Even his heels were soft.\n\nI swallowed, then started. Little rubs, starting at that heel and working my way up. \n\nYou know, sometimes when you get what you want, it turns out to not be that good. Like when I manage to convince my dads to buy me a video game I want and it turns out to be a real stinker. The reality doesn't live up to the fantasy. \n\nWell, this exactly the opposite of that.\n\nBrenden's feet were warm underneath my fingerpads. Every little press of my thumbs made little dents in that soft skin. His toes curled and that smooth sole became an expanse of pretty little folds to play my fingers over; they stretched back out and the skin pulled taut along his arch. When I traced a fingertip along it, he let out a little laugh, and his foot twitched. \n\n“Sorry,” I mumbled, ears red.\n\n“No, it feels good,” he says. “I'm a little ticklish, but it's good. Don't stop.” \n\nI didn't stop. Somewhere along the line, I stopped pretending that I was trying to do reflexology and just enjoyed playing with his feet. And Brenden seemed to go along with it. I closed my hand over his toes, and he wiggled those little, round digits, curling them against my palm. I rubbed my thumb beneath one and he shivered, toes spreading out again.\n\nWhen Brenden's other foot lifted up and towards my leg, sort of shyly attempting to insinuate itself on the fun, I obliged, running my fingers down his sole, this time deliberately coaxing a little laugh out of him. And he pushed his foot towards me for more! He even liked it when I tickled him!\n\nOh, geez. I was hard. And I didn't care. My tail flagged back and forth, a fluffy, stripy little window into just how much fun I was having. Ever see a skunk wag? There's no way he couldn't notice that.\n\n“Wes, hey. Stop for a second.”\n\nI stopped. I'm not sure how, but I did, trying to not sound like I was panting. “What?”\n\nWes lifted his shoulders from the bed and stretched forward, enough to catch the cuff of my jeans. He tugged at me. “I want to do you, too.”\n\n“Really?” I was shocked, voice cracking. I'm pretty sure that if he'd asked me to get naked, I'd sound the same. In a way, he may as well have asked the latter.\n\nHe gave me a funny look. “Why wouldn't I? It feels good. I want a turn, too.” Again, he tugged. “Come on. Please? Stretch out and I'll rub yours while you rub mine.”\n\nHe wanted a turn. Like it was some awesome thing, and he was missing out. I didn't understand how he could so easily ask for things I was so scared to. What made it different?\n\nMaybe I just wanted it too much, I don't know. Maybe I was just a scaredy-cat. Maybe I'd just this all build up bigger than it really was. But if he didn't think it was a big deal, maybe I could pretend it wasn't either.\n\nSo, I stretched out. \n\nI didn't really give much thought to what he would do. I assumed he'd just start rubbing. But no! He hooked his fingers in the tops of my socks and started to pull. \n\nI sat up in a hurry. “What are you doing?”\n\nBrenden looked at me like I was asking the obvious. Which, to him, I was. “I'm taking off your socks. Won't it be better with them out of the way?” He waggled his bare toes at me.\n\n“Oh. I guess.” Too late to back down now, not without turning it awkward. So I sank back down, not wanting Brenden to see the look on my face when he got me barefoot. \n\nOff came the right sock. Off came the left sock. Brenden tossed them too the floor carelessly. It wasn't like when he took his shoes off. Just a couple quick tugs, and they were out of his way. My feet were naked. [i]I[/i] was naked, or at least it felt that way, even if he didn't.\n\nThen his hands started squeezing my feet, and it turned me into a squeaky toy for a moment, all sorts of interesting noises coming out of my mouth.\n\nBrenden let out a little, delighted laugh. “You okay?”\n\n“Sensitive,” I said, biting my lip. \n\n“Oh. I'll try not to tickle.” Instead, he increased the pressure. Turns out his feet aren't the only part of him that was warm. It was like having five sizzling pressure points on my feet. \n\nMy ears burned, and I was afraid that if I just laid there, that embarrassment would just build. I needed a distraction, so I turned back towards his feet. Oh, man, no picture could beat that. There they were, inches from my muzzle. I could see every little crease, every round curve. \n\nBrenden's thumbs pressed down on the ball of my foot and my toes splayed. I clenched my jaw to stifle my moan, then decided that it was time to resume what I was doing; maybe it'd help cut down on my noises. So, I reached out and took hold of his foot.\n\nIt became a game, where I'd try to match what Brenden did. He's rub my toes, and I'd caress his. He'd break his promise about tickling and I'd dance my clawtips down his sole, getting some pretty little laughs out of him. I also had to dodge a few little kicks when he squirmed.\n\nWhen he settled again, his foot was even closer, toes right in front of my eyes, my vision blocked by all that pretty pink color. I'm not sure what I was thinking at the moment, but I was feeling so good and my pants were so tight and I just—I dunno. I wanted a little more. I leaned forward and brushed my lips against his sole, right near my thumb was pressing down. I hoped maybe he wouldn't notice the little bit of extra contact there.\n\nBut Brenden sat right up. “Did you just kiss my foot?” His ears were up in surprise, tail whipping back and forth in shock. \n\n“No, I was just...I didn't mean to...” A lie, and I could tell that he wasn't buying it. “I'm sorry,” I mumbled, ears plastering against my skull. Brenden's outline became indistinct as my eyes watered up. Oh, geez. Things had been going so well, and I had ruined it! \n\n“Wait, what's the matter?” he said, sounding more confused than ever. \n\n“I shouldn't have—I know, it was weird, and...” I scrubbed my hand across my eyes.\n\nBrenden frowned. “Dude, cut it out.”\n\n“S-sorry.” I started to roll over, trying to get away.\n\n“No.” Brenden caught my ankle. “I mean, who cares if it's weird?” He held onto my foot as he lowered his head again and planted three kisses on my foot, two on the sole, one on my big toe. Not little sneak-kisses like I did, either, but big, wet, noisy ones.\n\nI stared. “Did you just...”\n\n“Yup. Now I'm way weirder than you are. Three times weirder!” He gave a bucktoothed grin my way, which faded as I stared in shock. He fidgeted, then said, “Um. Do you want to kiss my feet some more?” He wiggled his toes at me.\n\nI hunched my shoulders. “Kinda.”\n\n“Better hurry up, then. You gotta catch up to me.” He planted another kiss on me, this one on my toes. “Four times weirder.”\n\nDespite my nervousness and embarrassment, I started to giggle. “Fine.” I lowered my shoulders and looked at his feet. Really looked at them, not just sneaking peeks and hoping that he wouldn't see. I found a cute little crease just below the bottom of his foot. Smooch. Then I moved my muzzle to his heel, which was just as pink and smooth as the rest of his foot, not rough like some boys have. Mwah. That'll show him weird.\n\nThen I decided it was time to act less shy about his toes—because he was practically shoving them at my lips, greedy for the attention. Each one got its own, and our game of copycat was back on, this time with me taking the lead and Brenden trying everything he felt out on my feet. Man, it felt good. I was straining against my jeans, and the only thing keeping me from rolling over and humping the mattress was that it'd make it awkward to get at his feet.\n\nI started to kiss like him, mouth open, eyes on the wet gleam it left on his sole, on his toes. I liked that look. And then, I decided that maybe kissing with an open mouth wasn't that different from licking. Out came my tonguetip, tracing one of those little wrinkles on his sole. He didn't stop what he was doing on my account, so I got braver, pressing the flat of my tongue to his toes and lapping across them. \n\nHe made a noise. I lifted my head, ears hot. “Mm?”\n\n“That felt good. More?” he asked, panting. I was licking his feet, and he was panting! Then again, so was I. \n\nI went to town on those toes, making sure that every single one got good and wet. Brenden did the same for me, and each stroke of his tongue went right to my dick, made it twitch in my pants. Every time I wriggled them, they felt slick with his spit, and that was fun, too. I started to squirm a bunch, and I felt like I might make a sticky mess of my underwear if things went much further. And I wanted it to, because it felt—\n\nA knock on the door interrupted my train of thought. “Wes? Brenden? You boys okay?” Oh, Papa. I'm not sure if he was actually worried or if this was revenge for the times I accidentally walked in on him and Dad (twice and both traumatizing). \n\nBrenden and I froze. “We're okay, Papa,” I called out.\n\n“We thought you might like more snacks, so we brought you some.” Yeah, it's definitely revenge. I got up and opened my door, glaring at Papa, who was smiling sweetly at me, plate of cookies in hand. \n\n “Thanks, Papa, great. We'll eat them right up.” I went to close the door again.\n\nHe stopped it with a paw. “You don't want to get crumbs on the bed, right?” He was looking right at Brenden, sitting up on my bedsheets, now-wrinkled from us squirming around. “You could watch another movie if you wanted.” I could see Dad peeking out from behind Papa, looking at once apologetic and unlikely to bail me out. So much for keeping Papa at bay.\n\nI could take the hint. I wasn't going to get much more private time with Brenden, probably not until my dads and I had a talk about puberty and hormones and stuff. I glanced over at Brenden, with a helpless little smile. “So, uh...another movie?”\n\nBrenden sat up. “Oh, um. Sure! Why not.” He smiled. I'm pretty sure he understood what was up.\n\nPapa was at least polite enough to give us some space once we got back down the hall. Brenden leaned in close, then, and whispered, “Is it weird that I got a boner from that? When can we do that again?” \n\nWas it weird? Maybe less weird than I thought just a couple of hours before. And he wanted more! “Soon,” I whispered, and I sure hoped I could hold to that. Hopefully he wouldn't change his mind before then.\n\nI can't really tell you what we watched for our second movie. I was too busy playing footsie with Brenden. Halfway through the film, I realized I hadn't bothered to put my socks back on, which never happens. But that's okay. I didn't have a single thing to be ashamed of.\n\n", "writing_bbcode_parsed": "“Wes, everything okay?” Dad knocked on my door again, less patiently than the first time.

“Yeah. I'm coming!” A poor choice of words on my part; too close to the truth. I somehow managed to get stuffed back into my underwear, then fumbled for my pants zipper.

Another knock. “Wes?”

Darn it! Gotta hurry! Hide the jerkoff material under the bed or back on the bookshelf? I ran to the bookshelf, stashed the book I'd been looking in, then ran towards the door, belly tight with nervousness. I looked okay by normal standards, though I still felt as good as naked.

I unlocked my door, one paw behind my back to hide the last evidence of my afterschool jerk-off session. “Yeah, Dad?” I asked, opening the door a crack, keeping my lower half blocked by the door, just in case.

“Got your laundry here, ironed and folded.”

Shoot! I'd need both hands. I threw what I'd been hiding down to the floor behind me, letting it land noiselessly as I opened the door wider, enough to take the basket Dad held. “I'll get them in the drawers right away. Thanks, Dad!” I started to close the door.

Dad stopped it with a hand. “You sure you're all right?” He started to look at me, up and down. I scrunched my toes uncomfortably. He didn't see anything unusual, but he wouldn't. “You're not sick or anything?” He touched his palm to my nose, which was still cool and damp. Still a healthy skunk, just like him.

“I'm fine. Really. I better get on putting my clothes away, Dad. I'll be downstairs soon. Soonish.”

Dad's expression changed from his concerned frown to a smile. He was buying it! “All right.” One last,  appraising look, and he turned to go.  

As soon as his fingers were clear of the door, I shut it. I tossed the basket of clothes on my bed, then stooped to gather what I was trying to hide, a pair of socks.

There was nothing special about these socks. They were clean socks! I wasn't using them for a cum rag or anything. No, I was hiding them from Dad for the same reason I had tried to hide behind the door: I didn't want him to see that I was barefoot. Because for me, that was the same as advertising that I was jerking it.

I'm what you might call foot-shy. Even though I know, in my head, that plenty of people go without shoes with no scandal, just the thought of having someone seeing my feet gets me all red in my ears. I might as well just rip off the rest of my clothes, as long as I'm flashing the parts that make me the stiffest. Which was why the socks were off in the first place. Barefoot? Insta-boner.

I guess I'm wired up funny, getting off on my own feet. And I was pretty sure I'd managed to hide that weirdness from everyone, at least up until then.

It was in math class that things started to go wrong. I expected math to be rough that day. It wasn't just because Mr. Lincoln liked to hold quizzes on Fridays. I'd studied, as always, and finished the quiz before everyone else. No, an easy quiz was part of the problem. My problems aren't ever simple.

Brenden was the other half of that equation. A finished quiz meant that I had little else to do but look around, and since Brenden sat in front of me, that's who I tended to see. He was a cute mouse; he had a nice smile, but of course with his back to me, it's impossible to see a smile. No, my problem with Brenden is that he couldn't keep his shoes on.

The show started even as I finished the last of my quiz. His feet jittered, the toes of his sneakers nudging against the legs of his chair, hooking around them for a moment before he brought his feet closer. Heels rubbed together, loosening one shoe, bit by bit. He wasn't wearing socks today (not that socks guaranteed I'd be without a show, either). His heel came into view, and further along, his sole, partly shadowed until he slipped that sneaker off. Brenden's toes worked and wriggled, as if they were happy to be free from the shoe.

The other sneaker didn't stay on for long, to my delight and dismay. If only he had a big skunk tail like mine, I probably wouldn't see a thing.

But he had a whip-thin tail. So, I got to watch Brenden's feet flex and move around while he fidgeted in his seat. If I had to describe them, I'd say they were...mm, pink. His soles were pretty, smooth and  deliciously pink, unlike the black bottoms on mine. They looked soft and supple, even though it seemed like he wasn't that fond of shoes. And if my own feet make me stiff, well...Brenden's were even better.

I had become so engrossed in watching all that toe-wiggling, in watching the way those soles wrinkled and stretched taut again, that I didn't even notice the tapping on my shoulder at first. Only when it became a little shove did I sit up. “Huh?”

“Take the papers, geez,” said the girl behind me, shoving the stack towards me.

I had zoned out enough that I didn't realize the quiz was over. I sat up quick, did my best to keep my ears from going flat, and added my paper to the stack before passing it forward, then sunk my hips under the desk to try to hide my tented pants. At least Mr. Lincoln wasn't the sort to call students up to the front of class.

Brenden turned and took the papers from me. I sat back, trying so hard not to look back down. It was only then that I noticed the little folded triangle of paper on my desk. I glanced around, then down at the paper. I reached for it, started to unfold it—

And had it plucked out of my fingers. “I'll take that until after class, Wesley,” said Mr. Lincoln.

I slumped a little more in my seat as giggles came from the class. Busted! I was extra-careful to focus on algebra for the rest of the period.

When class was over, I padded up to the teacher's desk. On the bright side, fear of detention is an excellent boner-killer!

“Let's see what couldn't wait until after class,” said Mr. Lincoln. He opened up the note, started reading, then looked up in a hurry. It was sort of weird to see a big old horse like him suddenly look embarrassed. He folded the note in half and handed it over. “No reading notes in class, even if you're not the one passing them. You may go.”

Oh geez, I felt lucky then. I escaped as fast as I could, then found a place in the hall where I could read the note without being bothered.

Do you want to go on a date? We could watch a movie or something.

-Brenden

Oh, wow.

I had no idea. I mean, the offer itself wasn't anything shocking. Brenden wouldn't even be the first boy that I've gone out with, and at school these days, there's plenty of kids out and proud. I don't hide the fact that I'm into boys, either; having two dads in the PTA meant that a lot of people made some (correct) assumptions about me, and I'd never deny that.

But I'd never really pegged Brenden as gay (I could hear Dad lecturing me about stereotyping already). Normally, I'd say yes right away—like I said, he's cute—but with his feet? Ogling them while sitting behind him in class was one thing, but one on one, I was sure he'd notice me staring. No, this was big trouble for me.

Maybe I could pretend I didn't get the note, that Lincoln held onto it. Maybe he'd forget. No, I couldn't do anything about this, no matter how cute his feet were. Especially because of how cute his feet were. I'd just have to act natural and—

“Did Mr. Lincoln give you the note back?” Shoot, Brenden! I jumped, squeezing that very note so hard that it crumpled in my fist.

I turned around and found the mouse there, looking pretty worried. All I had to do was lie, say that Mr. Lincoln kept it. He'd probably lose his nerve to ask a second time. I took a deep breath. Just gotta do it. One little lie. “Oh, uh...yeah. Yeah, he did.” I completely choked. So much for that.

“Oh. Did you read it?”

“Y-e-es.”

“Um. So...” His buck teeth nibbled on his lower lip as he trailed off, and his ears turned scarlet. Why did he have to be so cute?

“Maybe this weekend, we could do something?” I suggested. I could go blind before then. Or we'd find some activity that required boots to be worn. Except it was springtime, so it wasn't likely we'd get snow.

Already, I could picture those feet near me through a whole date. And creaming my jeans on that date. And having Brenden tell the whole school about that date, so everyone could share in the laughter. Look it's Wes! Don't wear sandals around him, he'll bust right out of his pants.

I realized that Brenden was looking at me, still faintly worried. “...Wes? Did you hear me? Which one did you want to do?”

“Oh, um.” I bit my lip. What did he ask? “The...first one?”

Wes smiled and relaxed. “Great. Uh, text me your address later. I'll meet you at your house, and we can hit the movies from there.”

Maybe he'll be able to keep his shoes on through a whole movie. I can get through this! It's that easy. Except I've never seen him keep his shoes on through even a single period of math class.

Shoot!

*****


I looked out the front window again. Maybe he wouldn't come. That'd be...well, not great. I didn't want to be stood up. But it'd complicate things less. I was dressed decent for my date, in jeans that were nice for a Saturday, and a t-shirt that wasn't ragged. Socks and sneakers on my feet, of course.

Papa touched my shoulder. “I'm sure he's just running a little late.”

“I know,” I lied. I leaned up against Papa's front, and he purred. That helped to relax me a little. One of the benefits for having a tiger for one of my fathers.

Unfortunately, when Brenden and I had tried to pin down a good time for a movie, we'd discovered that there wasn't anything good playing. Bunch of R-rated stuff (which he wasn't allowed to see), and a bunch of silly G-rated movies (which I'd already dragged Dad and Papa out to). So, he was going to bring a few movies and we'd pick between those.

I know that a date at my house, with my dads around, isn't exactly the best scenario. But the last time I went to the movies with a boy, Papa played chaperone, which was even less cool. That's the flip side of having a tiger for a daddy—he's super protective sometimes. I mean, I'm thirteen, almost. That's old enough for real dates on my own, right?

But, lucky me, I ended up with a date at home, with not one, but two chaperones.

A car pulled up and out came Brenden. I pushed at Papa, gently, so he'd get out of the way and let me move away from the window. “He's here!” I squeaked. “I'll get the door.” Hopefully Brenden didn't notice me watching for him. He looked kind of nervous, too, so maybe he didn't. Then the bell rang and I had to take time to go through introductions, since both Dad and Papa wanted to be nosy about the boy I'd invited home.

So, introductions were made, Dad promised he'd help keep Papa at bay while Brenden and I were watching our movie, and he let me know that there were snacks in the kitchen. I managed to shoo the parents, got Brenden familiar with the remote for the entertainment center, then went to collect the snacks.

I came out of the kitchen, balancing a couple of glasses of soda and a bowl of chips. Brenden was on his knees, getting a disc into the player. “Hey, Brenden,” I said, then stopped. Brenden's sneakers were already off, leaving me staring at the pair of pristine ankle socks that covered his feet. They were cute, pulled tight enough that I could see the faint outline of each toe. But he'd been wearing his shoes when I went into the kitchen, though. I glanced down the hall. They were by the door. Already, he was one layer down. I knew this wasn't going to be easy.

“Something the matter, Wes?”

I could feel my ears burning. “Oh, uh...nope, just wondering if you were gonna fast forward past the previews.”

“Oh. Yeah, sure. We can get right to it.”

I set the bowl and the sodas down on the coffee table, and Brenden parked his butt over at one end of the couch. I decided to sit on the middle cushion, next to him. I tucked my feet just beneath the couch, hiding them, as I always did when sitting there.

Up went Brenden's leg. He crossed it over the other, ankle on his knee. That foot started to jitter up and down.

So he wasn't just fidgety in class. I hoped that this would be as distracting as he got. I took a deep breath and did my best to focus on the TV.

The movie started up, and it was some dopey comedy. But I like dopey comedies. Maybe things would work out well. Papa and I liked funny movies, even if the jokes were dumb. Dad, not so much. Maybe Brenden could come over on family movie night or something. My dads would appreciate that.

Soon, we were eating chips and I was getting Barqs up my nose, thanks to one scene. Things were going great! Brenden was having fun, and the movie was entertaining enough that I started to relax.

But then, there was a scene that stretched on way too long—a lull in the funny. I got fidgety. Worse, Brenden started to get squirmy, too. And then it was math class all over again.

Brenden's fingers caught the cuff of one of his socks. It was like a little strip tease. He's show some heel, then tug the sock back up. He'd pull again, and I'd see that nice, high arch. Brenden let the sock sit there, then slowly tugged it free from wiggling toes.

By that point, I was holding the chip bowl pretty close to my lap, trying to hide my boner. He switched legs, and at least then I didn't have to see his sole when he bared the other foot. And when he relaxed, feet flat on the floor, I was able to lean back enough that I couldn't see them.

A minute later, Brenden shifted again, drawing legs up onto the couch, hip turned to his side as he leaned on the armrest. Those feet were very nearly touching my leg. I could see those soles, so soft and pink.

I immediately plunked over onto the cushion on the far end of the couch.

Brenden gave me a look. Maybe a little worried. “Sorry. I didn't mean to crowd you.”

I shook my head. “No, that's not it.” I felt pretty awful, making Brenden think he'd made me uncomfortable. Which—well, he had, but it really was me and not him. “I just...just wanted to give you room if you wanted to stretch your legs.”

He smiled at me. “Oh. Thanks.” That's just what he did, too, putting those feet right by me again. I was a wreck. It's pretty rough, having something you want badly right in front of you and when you can't do a darn thing about it. I tried to focus on the movie, but I kept stealing peeks at Brenden's little toes. This was the closest I'd gotten to see them, and try as I might, I couldn't resist. I felt like I was nearing my breaking point, where I wasn't quite sure I could manage to hide that I was staring anymore.

Somehow, though, I made it through the movie without him noticing a thing. When the credits rolled, Brenden finally pulled those feet away. “Where's the bathroom?”

“Second door on the right.” I watched him pad barefoot down the hall, and heaved a sigh of relief. This sucked! Is this what too much of a good thing was all about? At least I'd have some space to breathe while he was draining his bladder.

But not much space. A moment later, I heard, “Oh, cool! I've got the same poster.” I sat up. He was in my room! I padded into the hall where I found my door open and Brenden peeking in from the hallway. Okay, he hadn't invaded exactly, just walked by on the way back from the bathroom.

Brenden smiled at me. “Is it okay if I go in? Are your dads gonna be upset if we go in there?”

This was sort of a gray area. Neither of my dads told me not to go in my room with a boy. So, I shrugged. “Yeah, go ahead.” I followed him in.

Brenden padded around for a moment, taking in the surroundings. “Wow, you have a TV to yourself and everything. There's so much room!” He turned, smiling. “Sorry. I share my room with a little brother, so it always feels crowded. I have to share pretty much everything. Woah. Lots of books!” Over to the bookshelf he went, head tilted so he could look over the spines.

I smiled, too. He was cute, if maybe a little hyper. I liked that he was friendly, and didn't seem to worry much about looking cool.

Brenden's finger came to a stop on a book. My smile went away. I didn't even have to look close to know which one he'd come across. “What's reflexology?” he asked. He took the book out and started flipping through the pages.

He didn't say anything, but I felt my face burning. I sure felt like I should say something. “Oh! Uh, that. That' s just—“ Just my favorite jerkoff material, a hundred and fifty pages of pictures of feet of all shapes, sizes, and ages. “—just something I picked up when I was doing a paper for health.” Please buy it, please buy it.

Brenden glanced up from a page illustrating all sorts of pressure points on the sole. “Weird.” Yeah, weird. I felt this little lump rise in my throat. He'd said it. I knew it! I was weird. “Ever try doing it?”

“Try doing what?” Then I realized what he was asking, and he may as well have asked if I was a virgin. I got shy, looking away. “Oh, no. I mean, I just read it once or twice. When doing the paper.” Twice, last night. I was pent up.

“You think it works?” Brenden smiled. “You could try it out on me!”

Oh. Oh gosh. “You want me to rub your feet?” I asked, not really believing he was suggesting that.

I must've sounded too shocked, because it became Brenden's turn to be shy, looking down at his curling toes. “I mean, if you don't wanna...”

“No!” It came out so forcefully, Brenden looked stricken. “No, I mean, it's not that I don't want to.” Understatement. “I'll do it.” I looked at the door, then padded over and closed it, quiet as I could be. Locked it, too. “Okay, I think I'm—“ I turned, and Brenden was stretched out on my bed, hands behind his head, wiggling his toes playfully at me. On purpose! “I'm ready.”

I moved over to the bed. “So, um. Like I said, I've never done this before, so...you know. No complaining if it sucks.” I toed off my sneaker and sat at the foot of the bed, cross-legged, then made a show of flipping through the book for some quick tips, trying to make this all look official and not like I was stealing plenty of peeks at Brenden's feet. My stomach was doing flip-flops like crazy.

Brenden's toes pushed against my knee. “You don't have to memorize the instructions. Just try it,” he said, smiling at me. How could he be so relaxed?

I was a wreck, face warm and tail twitchy. I nearly lost my nerve and backed out. But as far as I was concerned, this was an opportunity that wasn't going to come up again. So, I reached out for his foot, took hold of his heel, and guided it up onto my knee.

Oh, man. Even his heels were soft.

I swallowed, then started. Little rubs, starting at that heel and working my way up.

You know, sometimes when you get what you want, it turns out to not be that good. Like when I manage to convince my dads to buy me a video game I want and it turns out to be a real stinker. The reality doesn't live up to the fantasy.

Well, this exactly the opposite of that.

Brenden's feet were warm underneath my fingerpads. Every little press of my thumbs made little dents in that soft skin. His toes curled and that smooth sole became an expanse of pretty little folds to play my fingers over; they stretched back out and the skin pulled taut along his arch. When I traced a fingertip along it, he let out a little laugh, and his foot twitched.

“Sorry,” I mumbled, ears red.

“No, it feels good,” he says. “I'm a little ticklish, but it's good. Don't stop.”

I didn't stop. Somewhere along the line, I stopped pretending that I was trying to do reflexology and just enjoyed playing with his feet. And Brenden seemed to go along with it. I closed my hand over his toes, and he wiggled those little, round digits, curling them against my palm. I rubbed my thumb beneath one and he shivered, toes spreading out again.

When Brenden's other foot lifted up and towards my leg, sort of shyly attempting to insinuate itself on the fun, I obliged, running my fingers down his sole, this time deliberately coaxing a little laugh out of him. And he pushed his foot towards me for more! He even liked it when I tickled him!

Oh, geez. I was hard. And I didn't care. My tail flagged back and forth, a fluffy, stripy little window into just how much fun I was having. Ever see a skunk wag? There's no way he couldn't notice that.

“Wes, hey. Stop for a second.”

I stopped. I'm not sure how, but I did, trying to not sound like I was panting. “What?”

Wes lifted his shoulders from the bed and stretched forward, enough to catch the cuff of my jeans. He tugged at me. “I want to do you, too.”

“Really?” I was shocked, voice cracking. I'm pretty sure that if he'd asked me to get naked, I'd sound the same. In a way, he may as well have asked the latter.

He gave me a funny look. “Why wouldn't I? It feels good. I want a turn, too.” Again, he tugged. “Come on. Please? Stretch out and I'll rub yours while you rub mine.”

He wanted a turn. Like it was some awesome thing, and he was missing out. I didn't understand how he could so easily ask for things I was so scared to. What made it different?

Maybe I just wanted it too much, I don't know. Maybe I was just a scaredy-cat. Maybe I'd just this all build up bigger than it really was. But if he didn't think it was a big deal, maybe I could pretend it wasn't either.

So, I stretched out.

I didn't really give much thought to what he would do. I assumed he'd just start rubbing. But no! He hooked his fingers in the tops of my socks and started to pull.

I sat up in a hurry. “What are you doing?”

Brenden looked at me like I was asking the obvious. Which, to him, I was. “I'm taking off your socks. Won't it be better with them out of the way?” He waggled his bare toes at me.

“Oh. I guess.” Too late to back down now, not without turning it awkward. So I sank back down, not wanting Brenden to see the look on my face when he got me barefoot.

Off came the right sock. Off came the left sock. Brenden tossed them too the floor carelessly. It wasn't like when he took his shoes off. Just a couple quick tugs, and they were out of his way. My feet were naked. I was naked, or at least it felt that way, even if he didn't.

Then his hands started squeezing my feet, and it turned me into a squeaky toy for a moment, all sorts of interesting noises coming out of my mouth.

Brenden let out a little, delighted laugh. “You okay?”

“Sensitive,” I said, biting my lip.

“Oh. I'll try not to tickle.” Instead, he increased the pressure. Turns out his feet aren't the only part of him that was warm. It was like having five sizzling pressure points on my feet.

My ears burned, and I was afraid that if I just laid there, that embarrassment would just build. I needed a distraction, so I turned back towards his feet. Oh, man, no picture could beat that. There they were, inches from my muzzle. I could see every little crease, every round curve.

Brenden's thumbs pressed down on the ball of my foot and my toes splayed. I clenched my jaw to stifle my moan, then decided that it was time to resume what I was doing; maybe it'd help cut down on my noises. So, I reached out and took hold of his foot.

It became a game, where I'd try to match what Brenden did. He's rub my toes, and I'd caress his. He'd break his promise about tickling and I'd dance my clawtips down his sole, getting some pretty little laughs out of him. I also had to dodge a few little kicks when he squirmed.

When he settled again, his foot was even closer, toes right in front of my eyes, my vision blocked by all that pretty pink color. I'm not sure what I was thinking at the moment, but I was feeling so good and my pants were so tight and I just—I dunno. I wanted a little more. I leaned forward and brushed my lips against his sole, right near my thumb was pressing down. I hoped maybe he wouldn't notice the little bit of extra contact there.

But Brenden sat right up. “Did you just kiss my foot?” His ears were up in surprise, tail whipping back and forth in shock.

“No, I was just...I didn't mean to...” A lie, and I could tell that he wasn't buying it. “I'm sorry,” I mumbled, ears plastering against my skull. Brenden's outline became indistinct as my eyes watered up. Oh, geez. Things had been going so well, and I had ruined it!

“Wait, what's the matter?” he said, sounding more confused than ever.

“I shouldn't have—I know, it was weird, and...” I scrubbed my hand across my eyes.

Brenden frowned. “Dude, cut it out.”

“S-sorry.” I started to roll over, trying to get away.

“No.” Brenden caught my ankle. “I mean, who cares if it's weird?” He held onto my foot as he lowered his head again and planted three kisses on my foot, two on the sole, one on my big toe. Not little sneak-kisses like I did, either, but big, wet, noisy ones.

I stared. “Did you just...”

“Yup. Now I'm way weirder than you are. Three times weirder!” He gave a bucktoothed grin my way, which faded as I stared in shock. He fidgeted, then said, “Um. Do you want to kiss my feet some more?” He wiggled his toes at me.

I hunched my shoulders. “Kinda.”

“Better hurry up, then. You gotta catch up to me.” He planted another kiss on me, this one on my toes. “Four times weirder.”

Despite my nervousness and embarrassment, I started to giggle. “Fine.” I lowered my shoulders and looked at his feet. Really looked at them, not just sneaking peeks and hoping that he wouldn't see. I found a cute little crease just below the bottom of his foot. Smooch. Then I moved my muzzle to his heel, which was just as pink and smooth as the rest of his foot, not rough like some boys have. Mwah. That'll show him weird.

Then I decided it was time to act less shy about his toes—because he was practically shoving them at my lips, greedy for the attention. Each one got its own, and our game of copycat was back on, this time with me taking the lead and Brenden trying everything he felt out on my feet. Man, it felt good. I was straining against my jeans, and the only thing keeping me from rolling over and humping the mattress was that it'd make it awkward to get at his feet.

I started to kiss like him, mouth open, eyes on the wet gleam it left on his sole, on his toes. I liked that look. And then, I decided that maybe kissing with an open mouth wasn't that different from licking. Out came my tonguetip, tracing one of those little wrinkles on his sole. He didn't stop what he was doing on my account, so I got braver, pressing the flat of my tongue to his toes and lapping across them.

He made a noise. I lifted my head, ears hot. “Mm?”

“That felt good. More?” he asked, panting. I was licking his feet, and he was panting! Then again, so was I.

I went to town on those toes, making sure that every single one got good and wet. Brenden did the same for me, and each stroke of his tongue went right to my dick, made it twitch in my pants. Every time I wriggled them, they felt slick with his spit, and that was fun, too. I started to squirm a bunch, and I felt like I might make a sticky mess of my underwear if things went much further. And I wanted it to, because it felt—

A knock on the door interrupted my train of thought. “Wes? Brenden? You boys okay?” Oh, Papa. I'm not sure if he was actually worried or if this was revenge for the times I accidentally walked in on him and Dad (twice and both traumatizing).

Brenden and I froze. “We're okay, Papa,” I called out.

“We thought you might like more snacks, so we brought you some.” Yeah, it's definitely revenge. I got up and opened my door, glaring at Papa, who was smiling sweetly at me, plate of cookies in hand.

 “Thanks, Papa, great. We'll eat them right up.” I went to close the door again.

He stopped it with a paw. “You don't want to get crumbs on the bed, right?” He was looking right at Brenden, sitting up on my bedsheets, now-wrinkled from us squirming around. “You could watch another movie if you wanted.” I could see Dad peeking out from behind Papa, looking at once apologetic and unlikely to bail me out. So much for keeping Papa at bay.

I could take the hint. I wasn't going to get much more private time with Brenden, probably not until my dads and I had a talk about puberty and hormones and stuff. I glanced over at Brenden, with a helpless little smile. “So, uh...another movie?”

Brenden sat up. “Oh, um. Sure! Why not.” He smiled. I'm pretty sure he understood what was up.

Papa was at least polite enough to give us some space once we got back down the hall. Brenden leaned in close, then, and whispered, “Is it weird that I got a boner from that? When can we do that again?”

Was it weird? Maybe less weird than I thought just a couple of hours before. And he wanted more! “Soon,” I whispered, and I sure hoped I could hold to that. Hopefully he wouldn't change his mind before then.

I can't really tell you what we watched for our second movie. I was too busy playing footsie with Brenden. Halfway through the film, I realized I hadn't bothered to put my socks back on, which never happens. But that's okay. I didn't have a single thing to be ashamed of.

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