"Yes," Lisa whispered. "Today's my first day. I'm from Parcher. You probably never heard of it."

"Nah," the boy said, "never." He stretched again, flexing his brown muscles. Like most of the boys, he wore only green gym trunks. He was perhaps a year older than Lisa perhaps a little more. His hair was the color of ripe wheat.

Suddenly he swiveled toward her and plopped one of his bare feet in her lap. His brown leg extended across the aisle, glinting with golden hairs. His trunks rode up and his cock and balls squeezed out one leg, lying on the desk seat like a handful of flesh toys.

Lisa stared first at the boy's dirty foot, then at his cock and balls, then up at the study hall moderator, then around the classroom, then back at the boy. He still had that silly grin on his face. Lisa giggled, both dumbfounded and embarrassed.

"Do my foot. It's sore," the boy whispered. "What?" Lisa looked again around the room, expecting to see all eyes upon the boy and herself. The girls kept reading the boys went on sleeping, and the moderator stared at his book as if he'd been sculpted from a block of limestone.

"Massage it," the boy said.

"But I don't know how." Lisa felt foolish. What if someone were to look at her now, with a boy's big dirty foot in her lap?

"Rub it," the boy said. "What's to know?" He raised his leg and stroked her lips with his big toe. He gave each of her tits a nudge, then plopped his foot back down in her lap.

Lisa grabbed the big foot and began to squeeze and rub it. The boy's foot was at least twice the size of one of her own. As she massaged his foot, the toy's toes wiggled.

"Nice," he said. "Feels good."

Lisa smiled, feeling foolish. As she rubbed she looked around the room, ready to push the boy's foot away should anyone look her way.

"Now the other one," the boy said. He pulled his foot out of her lap and replaced it with the other one.