Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2262964-The-Nintendo-DS-Girl
Rated: 18+ · Fiction · Erotica · #2262964
A simple Pictochat conversation grants you access to a wonderful girl's milky feet.
Welcome to Friday afternoon. December 7, 2007. School went by as you expected. You got sweaty at P.E., history felt like torture, your English 4 classmate distracted you with her flip-flops, yada yada yada. Most importantly, you’re ready for an actual lunch instead of that school pizza crap.

Just as you sit to enjoy your cheap McDonald’s meal, you whip a device out of your pocket. A tiny object, barely bigger than your cell phone. With a flick of the switch, you’re greeted by the gentle introduction sound of the Nintendo DS Lite.

The top card port holds Kirby: Squeak Squad, but the bottom slot is empty. Though playing Kirby isn’t in your best interest; you need a bit of a break after trying to 100% the title. Unfortunately, it’s not as if there are other special programs to try on the machine. Moments like this are what make you regret not picking up a PlayStation Portable with its multimedia features.

Going to the settings menu? Unless you find calibrating your touchscreen fun, there’s nothing to gain from that. There’s one application you’ve yet to tap. Pictochat. Why don’t you give it a tap?

Ding, ding…

As you expect, these chatrooms are devoid of life. But today, you’ll be using Pictochat to scribble down some images, not to chat. So, you select Chat Room C. While making sure your flat cheeseburgers aren’t dripping sauce onto the touchscreen, the stylus emerges.

What will you draw? Take your time. Do not rush.

Oh, an image of Kirby? Not surprising. First, you draw a circle, then you dot the eyes. Add a great big smile, and presto, it’s Kirby! Well, Kirby if he were drawn by a blind man. As your crude drawing flies to the top screen, you get to work on another “masterpiece”.

A foot. To be expected from someone who gets his kicks from feet. Although, for a foot lover, you can’t draw feet worth anything. You hit SEND, then go back to your meal.

Time to wonder what game you’ll play when you go back home. You don’t care too much for the few GBA games you own. Perhaps you could play that “The World Ends With You” game that you got a few months ago yet quit playing after a day.


A new message! Look at that.

[Now entering C: Ecca]

[Ecca: Hi]

Someone’s nearby with a DS. If you’re uncomfortable talking to strangers, it’d be best for you to leave the chatroom. But, of course, you won’t listen to reason. Whether from the female nickname or your lonely life, something compels you to reply to this Ecca individual.

[You: Hi.]

[Ecca: Sorry. I didn’t think of what to say after]

[You: That’s ok.]

Cool, she’s socially inept. Don’t get a big head about it, mister. You’re not the greatest social butterfly in Miami, you know.

[Ecca: Do you like Mario Kart]

[You: You know someone who doesn’t?]

[Ecca: We can play it in the playground if you want]

Playground? The indoor one? An odd place for a fellow game nerd to be, but you don’t mind going there. You rush out a scribble of a thumbs-up sign while wolfing down the rest of your French fries. The DS whistles out one more note.

[Ecca: Cool. I have a yellow Pikachu shirt on]

Careful. You don’t want to make the wrong impression on anybody. If this is really a woman on the other end, and not just a man with a weird nickname, you will show the proper respect.

When you step into the room of rainbow slides, your eyes scan for anyone wearing a deep yellow shirt. If this room had a dense population, your head would be spinning. Luckily, it’s moderately populated, with a few kids running about and adults chatting at the tables.

Bingo! A tight yellow shirt on a girl lying belly-first near the massive tubes. Oh…

Don’t panic. She can be at least 16 for all you know. There’s no harm in seeing if the front of her T-shirt has those big black eyes, red cheeks and cat mouth.

Well, there IS a small problem. She’s barefoot. Considering you’re about as addicted to feet as Pikmin are to berries, you’re better off not trying to stare at them. Repeat this mantra in your head: “They’re just feet. Just feet. Ugly, disformed hands. Disgusting.”

“Are you Ecca?” You tap her on the shoulder.

When she looks back, you plainly see a Nintendo DS in her hands. Definitely the one who chatted you up back there. God, this girl is a beauty. What part should you even ogle first? Her blonde hair, her freckles, those soft pink lips. Mmm…

“Mmm-hmm. It’s actually Rebecca.”

IDIOT! Don’t let this girl’s looks seduce you. The DS Download Play application is waiting for your finger.

Sitting next to one another, you both begin versing each other on the GCN Luigi Circuit course. A shame you don’t have a copy of Mario Kart DS in your pocket; only eight courses are selectable, and by the game’s standards, they’re mundane.

Ha, as if you’re engaged with Mario Kart DS. No, you’re focused on this girl’s bare feet. The tops of her feet, to be precise. What guy could resist? Her toenails are showing off with their white paint today. And they’re not unreasonably long like some of the girls at your high school.

Rebecca scrunches her digits back and forth, snapping you out your trance. “What track’s up next?”

“Feet— Figure-8 Circuit. The first one.”

Way to keep it smooth.

As you two snake non-stop on the winding track, Rebecca chats on and on about Pokémon. Something about finding a Piplup cute, thinking a Regirock looks like a stupid pile of boulders, are you even catching all of this? Man, you don’t even know if she’s talking about that more recent Diamond/Pearl game or one of the GBA or GBC games. Curse your foot fetish!

Your urge to stay silent on the matters of your foot obsession slips at every wiggle of the blonde’s toes. Hold the secret in, and everything should be okay. Crack some small talk to get to know her.

“So, how old are you?”

Smart question. Knowing the battlefield is very important.

“I’m turning 13 in March.”

12 years old, then. If you take into account the birthday, you can make a safe bet that she’s in seventh grade. This can’t be happening! If she were only a few years older, then you wouldn’t have to dread Chris Hansen coming and exposing you to public America.

You’ll have to cancel any foot fetish-related plans you had with this girl upon first looks. W-What are you doing? No, don’t you dare try to play footsies with her. Stop! Aw, you did it!

Rebecca gasps, tucking her knees to her chest. “Oh, my bad.”

Good going, man. At least you’ll be able to focus on a few more races and battles without her feet pulling your attention.

“No, it’s fine. Your feet are really soft,” you say, because keeping quiet is suddenly a challenge.

She sticks her feet back out, avoiding brushing against your shoes. Back to staring at her toes you go. Rebecca’s feet are on the thinner side, although you can’t spot any visible veins. Interesting. Then they’ve got some meatiness to ‘em.

“See, when things like go across the sides of my feet, it tickles bad.”

You’re contemplating rubbing your shoe against her, but you don’t do it. Smart move. It would have made you look very creepy.

Four races pass, followed by three battles. Your R Button’s starting to creak a little. Whatever happened to the old days of Nintendo products being rock-solid? This device is only a couple of months old, yet it’s giving you more shoulder button issues than the first DS.

You’re ready to go, but Rebecca grabs your side. “So, can you drive?”

“Yeah, I beat you in every race.”

“No, not in the game,” she says. “Real life. Like a car.”

Indeed, you’ve got a nice, slick black car awaiting your butt in the parking lot. Rebecca closes her DS upon learning this.

“Can you take me to GameStop? I got money if it’s too much.”

GameStop, huh? Dolphin Mall has one open until 12 AM on Fridays. Unfortunately, you’re quite the distance from that centre. Rebecca’s willing to pay, though. Dropping a girl off at the mall and driving her home isn’t dangerous or super suspicious. Makes you wonder why her parents aren’t here with her, however.

“We could do Dolphin Mall, but can’t your parents take you?”

“No. They literally think every game promotes some demon Illuminati stuff. So, I’ve had to get all my game stuff with my own money. Oh, and don’t worry about taking me home afterwards either. If it’s Dolphin Mall, I’ll just catch a bus.”

Oh, she’s one of THOSE families. Yeah, gamers gotta stick together on this one. With the deal made, Rebecca flings on her black sneakers. You’re not the biggest fan of those crazy light-up Sketchers but take solace in the fact that Rebecca’s feet won’t be distracting you during the drive. Though, knowing she wore those things without socks is certainly a tease.

You squeeze in the car, with Rebecca following suit.


Doors shut. It’s just you two locked together in this vehicle. Now, before you can let your desires take control, the keys turn. Revved up and ready to go, the drive to GameStop is in motion.

The safety of McDonald’s gets replaced by Florida’s deadliest hazard: traffic. You question every day how you’re alive after surviving these brain-dead monkeys barely clipping your Dodge. The backed-up traffic isn’t helped by the jerks hopping in your lane without so much as a blinker.

You’re dying to show these simpletons who’s boss! Rebecca’s the only thing in this car preventing you from tapping into your inner Florida Man.

Huh, what’s Rebecca doing over there? Sweet mama…

The girl has her feet on your dashboard. This is going to make the ride ten times better. Also, ten times more dangerous. If you’re drooling over her – admittedly sexy – feet, your car’s going to look like a wrecked F-Zero vehicle.

“You gotta get your feet down.”

“It’ll be a sec. Just tryin’ to check my nails.”

“That second could cost us our lives,” you mumble, taking occasional glimpses of her milky-white feet.

Is she taking advantage of your weaknesses on purpose? Her soles are rubbing together, and that twipping sound of her wiggly toes is rushing the blood to your head.

Phew, she finally put them down.

Wait! She just set her left foot on the gear shift!

“I gotta tell my mom I need another pedicure by next week.”

Her changing modes is the least of your worries. The toes. The toes curling up and down on that tip is pouring butterflies in your stomach. Dude, what if that was your penis this girl was gripping? Picture the silky bottoms of her feet rubbing your junk with those little toes.

Alright, give in! You must do something to eradicate this urge. Lest you want the ride to Dolphin Mall to be very, very stressful. Be sure that you have a solid plan, first.

The path to the mall remains regular for a good mile, until the car veers to the right. Looks like you’re going into a parking deck. A dimly-lit one at that.

Rebecca’s looking around, and she must know something is wrong.

On the fourth floor, the car rolls into a corner. Thanks to nobody else on this floor, getting caught with the girl just got more difficult.

“So, before we go to GameStop, I’d like to give you a foot massage. If you’re comfortable, of course."

Rebecca’s eye twitches. “I don’t really need one.”

“Well, if you let me do it, I’ll pay for whatever game you’re getting.”

She leaves you in silence, gawking at her feet. Congratulations on making things far more awkward for yourself. If she says no, you’d better still take her to that GameStop. Remember, they’re just feet. You can find some other girl who’d tolerate your fetish.

“Then I guess you can rub them.”

Unbelievable! Your prayers have been answered! Prepare to have a field day with his girl.

Opening the passenger door, room is given for Rebecca’s legs to dangle. On one knee, you get your eager fingers to feel her feet.

Shockingly, her feet are not as soft as you perceived back in the restaurant. There’s a bit of firmness and dryness around the bottom of her heels and along the sides. Nevertheless, the soles prove to be smooth for the most part. No foot admirer will let a slight roughness come in the way of their experience. Besides, the very faint sweat across Rebecca’s soles should even things out in texture. Her feet aren’t dripping with the stuff, but the faint dampness indicates that those shoes warmed her feet up just a teeny bit.

“You have pretty feet,” you say, applying pressure to the top of her left foot.

“Thank you.”

“You ever had someone compliment them before?”

She shrugs. “Some girls, I guess.”

Oh, how badly you wish you were classmate. You pull her toes forward, appreciating this crackling nail polish Rebecca’s got. Perhaps this would turn off the average foot lover, but you’re nowhere near average. Natural feet are what you crave, not feet decorated like birthday cakes and smelling like fresh soap. You’re not even desperate for a super gross aesthetic. Rebecca’s young feet in their raw state is all that’s needed.

You brush your index finger between her big and second toe.


A kick right in the mouth! Stings, doesn’t it? Immediately, Rebecca apologises, but you laugh it off. Any man should be considered lucky to have a schoolgirl boot him in the face like that. If only you had your mouth open.

It’s like you’re giving her a foot cleaning, scrubbing some shoe particles out the crevasses between her toes. Then, focusing on the soles, you press your thumb just above her right foot’s heel. Right in that sunken-in region of the foot.

“Does that feel good?” you ask.

“I thought it’d tickle a lot more. But, no, it’s good.”

“Nah, THIS is tickling.”

On the spot, your hand becomes a frantic spider. The fingers wiggle across both of Rebecca’s cute feet, from the heels to the toes. She can’t hide her laughter, initially squeaking like a toy. Fortunately, you have the decency to not torture her for long. Back to the relaxing massage.

Though giving a foot rub is the bee’s knees, it’s not enough for most foot freaks in the world. You’re no different in this respect. Speaking of respect, make sure you’re still showing some to Rebecca. Don’t get weird with her feet unless she agrees to it.

“Rebecca. May I… kiss your feet?”

“K-Kiss!?” She giggles before throwing her hands in the air. “Sure, if you want.”

You smile, planting a soft kiss on her sole. Then you give her a peck on her pinkie toe. Now it’s just a buffet of smooches across the delicate feet of Rebecca. Nothing is better than caressing the ball of her foot; the way it jets out means it’s asking for some lip contact.

Look at that. You’ve got Rebecca blushing. Don’t you feel accomplished?

“I feel like a princess,” she jokes.

“You don’t know. Maybe Link does this to Zelda in their meantime.”

Rebecca folds her arms, puffing her chest out. And her sole slaps your face, negating your attempts to smooch it.

Her voice deepens. “Kiss my big toe, Link.”

“Yes, Princess.”

Mmm… If she’s not careful, she’ll make you a little too excited.

When your lips reach the top of her feet, you use the opportunity to poke your tongue out. No more than a single jab, as you’ve not yet asked her if you could lick those creamy feet. Man, even the thought has your mouth watering. So much so that your embraces are getting wetter.

“Yeah, this is nice.”

“Maybe we should change positions,” you laugh.

From your limited experience with Yahoo Answers, you know that once the feet are coated in saliva, they’re no good for smelling. So, let’s get that taken care of.

“Is it fine if I smell your feet?”

“They probably smell bad.”

You give her a smirk. “Sometimes bad means good.”

“Go for it,” she grins.

Sniff, sniff… SNIFF! Sniff, sniff…

Pull back and analyse that scent. It’s definitely there but isn’t potent. Returning for more sniffs, your brain starts to fill in the blanks. Little sweat, mixed with a hint of oatmeal. Must be the soap she scrubs her soles with.

“They smell like… Like oatmeal mixed with a used sock.”

The middle schooler is in stitches, clapping as you continue smelling her feet. Deep sniffing, at that. You’re like a vacuum hose trying to suck up dust. With your nose crammed under her toes, you sigh, letting them wiggle on your face. If Heaven were like this, you’d be doing everything to die for this daily joy.

Rebecca rubs her other foot on your chest. “You like feet?”

“You promise you won’t tell anyone?”

“…We’ll see once we’re at GameStop.”

Excellent. Money may be coming out of your pockets, but it means you can guarantee nobody will find out about this little thing between you two. The tops of the feet smell more like regular skin, so the real treat is the bottoms. Speaking of treat, your tongue is ready to dig into this five-star meal.

You stroke Rebecca’s lower legs, touching her ankles. After delivering another batch of warm kisses to her mid-soles, you pop the question.

“Now, can I lick your feet?”

Rebecca’s giggling again, looking around. She then nods, putting her hands to mouth as you take your first few licks.

Remember how the sides and heels of her feet are dry? That rings true, but you also noted that the rest of her sole is baby soft. Your tongue agrees. Licking up Rebecca’s soles is like licking the frosting on the cake. Or the glaze on a doughnut. So creamy, so rich, so delicious. It’s heightened by her wiggling her white toes before your face.

You’re constantly switching from the tip of your tongue to flattening it like a broad brush. Whenever you do the former, Rebecca’s tickled. Especially around the toe area. That’s where you’re most excited.

“What’s so funny?” you ask, chuckling.

“It tickles, and I’m just imagining like a Pokémon licking my feet.”

Don’t take that as an insult. You’re licking a girl’s feet; you might as well be compared to an animal.

Look, you suck toes harder than you suck Gobstoppers. At this rate, you’ll completely drain the polish from the girl’s big toe. There is a faint saltiness to her feet, and you realise just how aroused you’re becoming. Licking a seventh grader’s innocent feet in a multistorey parking lot sounds like something an experience a foot fetishist would make up. But you’re making history.

Discipline, man! Discipline. You’ve gotten away with enough, but do not expose yourself to her in a parking lot. Don’t even touch your meat. Instead, keep making love to her feet.

Rebecca yanks her foot out your mouth, saying, “Can we move? My legs are getting tired.”

That’s perfect. You suggest Rebecca get in the back seat and lay with her feet being the only things to dangle out the car. The cutie lies flat on her stomach, scrunching her toes. In, out, in, out.

“How do they taste?”

After plopping her heel out your mouth, you chuckle. “Better than anything you’ll find in school.”

Back to her heel, you swirl your tongue around it until it’s blushing a brilliant red. Rebecca sighs. She’s now pushing her wet feet into your face. Ooh, getting feisty, are we? You greet her soles with powerful licks from toe to heel, making sure the bottom of your tongue catches the flavour on the way down.

“Can you spread your toes?” you ask.

Rebecca obliges, granting you access to the velvety sections between her toes. Your grimy tongue goes to work and wets those tight areas up.

“I noticed you were barefoot in the McDonald’s. Is that normal, or?”

“If I’m in that area, yeah. When I’m at the park, I’ll take my shoes off if it’s cloudy. Once the sun’s out, my feet start to burn.”

You can relate to her on that front. But this means her feet must get dirty on some other days. Might not be the best to lick but would be something beautiful to witness. Crushed leaves and concrete bits stuck to this blonde’s sexy soles.

“Oh,” she continues. “If I’m like at home, I never wear my shoes. Even in the backyard or driveway.”

Isn’t she just a tease?

The slurping under her toes continues for two minutes before something hits your ears. A sound, not an object.

“Hey! What are you doing there!?”

That booming voice brings you to your feet. You quickly shove Rebecca’s feet in the car and close all the doors. Now running to your door, you see a JACKED man approaching you. Big beard, big muscles, and covered in tattoos. Hurry up!

You’re lucky you were so horny with this girl’s feet that you didn’t shut the car off. You pull that stick and reverse the car, only to engage forward down the parking lot. The man was coming at you from the side of the car, so unless he had some secret camera, there’s no way he got your car’s tag.

“Strap in!”

Curving out the lot on ground level, you’re cruising on the road to Dolphin Mall. While Rebecca’s feet are anti-sweaty, your whole body is dripping now. Rebecca sets in the middle-back seat and puts her feet on the middle console, curling her toes back and forth. Please do not have an accident with this girl in the car.

“I can’t believe you actually licked my feet.”

“They taste really good,” you say, eyes still on the road.

“It was kinda fun.”


At the grand mall, you hand Rebecca $121. It’s a lot, but you’ve still got about $200 leftover. And after sucking feet like her’s, she deserves all the money you can offer her.

She hovers her foot, sticking her big toe up. “You can suck it again.”

If you turn down a sexy girl offering her feet, you’re a fool, plain and simple. You begin to tickle the ball of Rebecca’s foot with your tongue. After a brief kiss on the toe, you bob your head up and down on it. Not just the big toe, but the second one and the third one. Until all five toes are scrunching in your mouth, having a party.

Her damp foot slides out, the sound of saliva crackling and bubbling. Now toss the girl her sneakers and get out of here. Before someone either catches you or you cream your pants.

Rebecca puts her slimy feet in her shoes and unbuckles her seatbelt. Instead of exiting the car, she leans against the centre console.

“If you wanna do this whole foot thing again, we can.”

“Maybe, I’m not sure…” Yeah, is the risk really worth it?

In any case, Rebecca tells you her phone number and exits the car, waving. Though she’s far, you can still hear the squishing of her wet toes in her shoes. Or maybe you’re just crazy.

Just to be sure, you quickly insert Rebecca as a contact to your phone list. Though whether you’ll ever call her or not is a mystery. This experience was hot, but would it be easy to do it a second time? Oh well, you close your Blackberry and set it right next to the DS Lite that started this whole chain of events.
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