Witnessing An Over-The-Pants Foot Job

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Strange things can happen at sea. The calming rocking of the boat, the duality of the blazing sun contrasting with the absolute darkness of night, the salty breeze tossing through your hair as you plot ever onward into the blank canvas of the ocean. For whatever reason, there is no denying that a trip aboard a seaworthy vessel with your boys, some alcohol, and a few ladies in tow always has the potential for some rare occurrences.

During one of my spring break ventures during my years as an undergraduate, I was privy to one such rare event of sexual bravado: the fabled Over The Pants Foot Job. While most of us are familiar with the more well-known sister of the OTPFJ, the OTPHJ, the latter can be coaxed into existence with some gentle phrasing and suggestively creative maneuvers while the former is a special and completely unanticipated event. No, the OTPFJ is another beast entirely, and one that I would deny wholeheartedly were I not there to witness it in person.

My buddies and I, together with some of our fun female friends, decided to take a relaxing cruise to the Bahamas that was marketed to young, college-aged kids as a sort of spring break kickback event. Along with our core group, we discovered through the grapevine that another substantial cluster of friends-of-friends from our university were also planning on embarking on this same trip, so we decided it would be prudent to get to know these people that we would be sharing a weeklong adventure with.

One of my good buddies almost immediately got locked onto a girl from our college’s ice-skating team, a petite girl with reddish-brown hair and an apparently unknown thing for foot stuff. Over the course of some light flirting through the days leading up to the break, it became clear that my friend stood a good chance of hooking up with this girl in international waters. Little did we know what that would exactly entail.

Fast-forward to the cruise. We have all been having a great time, drinking ourselves into sun-tanned bliss during the daytime before turning up for the nighttime activities. Each evening after a much-needed post-consumption meal, it was common for our large group of almost 20 coeds to gather on deck for a bit of rest and relaxation before hitting it again at a more debaucherous hour. It was during one of these boozy, relaxing get-togethers that the aforementioned top prospect decided it was high time to make her move.

Sitting across from me is my chosen buddy, next to me one of my good girl friends. Completing the scene is the full ensemble of nearly 18 or so semi-drunk acquaintances all chatting and enjoying the cool night wind blowing off the deck. I take casual note that my friend and his girl are sitting nice and close, with her legs resting atop my friend’s in a reclining position. Nothing too extraordinary there. Suddenly, I feel a jab in my ribs. My girl friend is looking at me in bewilderment while prodding me with her elbow, making eye motions at me to gaze across the circle at my friend. It takes a while for me to see it, but once I do I cannot look away. It was one of those moments that you know will be talked about for days and weeks to come, like witnessing history in the making.

Gently sliding up and down my friend’s crotch, in a feeble attempt of public discretion, was this girl’s bare foot. The look of shock on my face was mirrored only by my friend’s. Indeed, it seemed as though he was in as much surprise as I was by the “I don’t give two fucks” attitude that this girl was so brazenly displaying.

Slowly, it became apparent throughout the better part of the friend circle what was happening in front of our incredulous eyes. Seemingly finding her sense of abashment out of nowhere, our podiatrically-inclined protagonist decided she better stop this oh-so-public display of affection. Incredibly, she simply stayed talking and socializing as if nothing had happened, like giving out unreciprocated and unrequested OTPFJs was as common as a handshake or shoulder shrug.

Maybe it was the implication, maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was an insatiable itch on the arch of her foot that made this girl hand out the only OTPFJ I have ever heard of or witnessed. Sadly, we will probably never know. But one thing is sure. When one is on the sea, miles from land or coast, you better prepare yourself for some weird ass shit.

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