Marching Band (Part 1)_(2)

Marching Band (Part 1)_(2)

Chapter 1: The Picture

I sigh as I walk into the band room after a long practice. Too long, might I add. I run a hand through my black hair and start to put my instrument away. I didn't even like marching band. My parents didn't want me to go out "partying all night," or "smoking all day," so they refused to pay for college if I didn't participate in - you guessed it - the college band. And it sucks. I knew it was bad in high school, but this was ridiculous. Four hour practice? Seriously? I have classes to study for, shit to do.


I put my instrument in my locker and gather my stuff. As I step out of the locker room, I can't help but look at all the girls. Again. If you are in a marching band, you can understand why. Those band girls looove going barefoot. After practice? Barefoot. Before practice? No shoes. During practice? Sometimes. Girls laying on their stomachs, legs in the air, feet kicking, those toes just asking to be sucked.

That's what makes it all worth it.

I stick around for another thirty minutes or so, which is quite common. Some of these guys are like friends for life, or whatever, and they hang out whenever they can. Well, I stay with my section and just chill. We joke about dumb shit, like we do, and the whole time I'm just looking around the room. As a sophomore in college, I'm a horny devil. I need to fuck all of them. From the matured senior girls down to those beautiful fucking freshman. I look at a junior, Sydney, whose feet I've been eyeing for a while. She's a small girl, and therefore has small feet. Whenever she has a chance, she kicks her shoes off and airs those babies out. Just looking at her wiggle her toes makes me hard, and seeing everyone else pay NO attention to them literally pisses me off. How don't all guys like feet, for fucks sake?! I see a freshman, Victoria. Her long black hair runs down her back and lays riiight above her amazing ass. Like, I don't know what they put in those Wheaties nowadays, but damn do these girls have bodies. My eye catches movement by the door: our band director is coming into the room. I'm alright with him, he's a pretty cool guy, married, probably regretting going into the marching band business. I look at the clock and realize I've been here for a whole fucking hour longer than I should have. I need to go. Now. I say goodbye to my section, and reluctantly walk to the door. Here's the thing, right? I hate the band, just straight disgusts me. But the people? They're all super cool and I'm glad their my friends. I just wish we could be friends without me being in a fucking band. Luckily, there's only a few people left anyways. My section has broken off to go their own ways, and all that is left is a couple people gathering there things, including Sydney and a senior named Rebecca. Holy fuck, Becca. She is amazing. Tight body, reasonable tits, great face, AMAZING feet, whenever she shows them.

Oh, yeah, and a nice personality, if that's your thing.

I look away before I basically jizz myself. Stepping outside, I walk to my car. I live about 10 minutes away from the school, and share an apartment with this cool guy, Mark. Believe it or fucking not, Mark is the only other guy I've met who has a foot fetish. He let it slip when he got drunk one night, and I told him I had one too. We shared a laugh and now we point out hot feet to each other. It's a cool relationship, I have to say. I reach in my pocket for my keys and think about how shit my day was. Four hours of practice, followed tonight by at least another hour of studying, and then I have to work on an essay, and this is when I realize I left my keys in my locker. I audibly sigh, which turns the heads of the group walking out of the school.

Victoria, the freshman, raises her eyebrows. "You alright, Matt?"

I look over at her for a second, and reply, "Yeah, just left my keys in the band room."

"Oh, that sucks. Better hurry up and get to the room before Mr. Ford locks up for the night," she says, as she swings her legs into her car.

"Yeah, I'm going right now." I say, and wave goodbye as she drives off.

This is bullshit, I think as I walk back into the school. Just when I thought I was done seeing this place for the night.

I get to the band room and push open the door. Empty. I step in and walk into the locker room. I open my locker, and, big surprise, there are my keys.

"Come here, you fuckers," I mutter to myself, and I step out of the locker room.

As I walk to the door, I realize that the room isn't completely empty. Laying over one of the chairs is a pair of clothes. I walk up and look at the clothing: a nice pair of short shorts, a shirt... socks... shoes... underwear?

Why is there a bra here? I thought as I looked at the clothes. I look around the room and see nobody is here. Well, shit.

I make my way over to the band closet and open the door. Where are those bags... Ah, here we are. I grab a plastic grocery bag and head back to the chair. I throw the shorts, shirt, and shoes in the bag, but stop at the underwear. Whose stuff is this...? I try not to think of it as I pick them up and throw them in the bag with the bra. Hell, these girls are amazingly hot, basically angels, but I don't know where they've been. I look back at the chair and see the socks. I stare at them for a while, contemplating my decisions. Fuck it, I think, as I grab the socks and shove then my pocket. I can use these later.

I make my way over to Mr. Ford's office. It's a little room on the side of the band room, and there's only one way in, which is a door on the side of the room. I stop at The Window. Oh, by the way, The Window is a huge glass window that looks right into Mr. Ford's office. I look through the window and see Mr. Ford in his chair behind the desk. His head was leaned back all the way, his neck laying on the chair. Oh, great. I have to wake him up now. I had to get these clothes to him somehow. I walk up to the door and turn the handle.

"Hey, Mr. Ford, I found these clothes --" I stop as I notice something is off. Really off.

Mr. Ford lifts his head with panic in his eyes as I look down at his legs. There, on the floor, is Becca. She's completely naked. Her beautiful ass is sitting on her heels, and her head is in Mr. Ford's crotch. Her head was bobbing up and down when I entered the room. It isn't anymore. She slowly turns around with fear in her eyes. I probably had fear in my eyes, too. Oh, and the erection in my pants was in full view.

Becca looks up at me and sighs. "Fuck..."

And I look at them sitting there. And I realize I was holding my phone.

And then I took the picture.

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