by MeLikey Feet
I’m 6 feet and 6 inches tall, with dark hair, dark brown eyes and size 16 feet that have caused me a lot of trouble in my life. From age 9 to 18 I must have gone through about 1,000 pairs of shoes. I would no sooner get home from the shoe store with a new pair that I would have to go back two or three days later to get a bigger size. In addition to being huge, my feet were flat and they took a lot of pressure because I was so tall. I grew up feeling insecure because of my feet. I never had a lot of confidence and I pretty much learned how to be a loner. This was before Ryan came into my life.
I was a student at Yale in New Haven, Connecticut studying full-time and working part-time and I did not care for sharing a living space with a roommate, but economically I had no choice. Ryan was one of maybe two or three replies. We met at the coffee shop where I worked as head barista. He was only 5 foot tall with sandy brown hair and blue eyes. I had never met anyone that short and compared to me he was quite a shrimp. He was a postgraduate student at Yale working on some doctor thesis that involved a lot of nerdy library research which meant no loud partying, drugs, or music keeping me up late at night. He signed a lease the same day we met.
I came home from work one day and Ryan was sitting on the couch watching a bit of TV and looked rather upset. “What’s up, man? Feel like I haven’t seen you in a while,” I said.
“Yeah, I hit a wall on the research and I figured it was time for a break,” he said somewhat disappointed.
“Oh, that sucks.” I sat down on the other end of the couch. I figure I’d humor him and act interested in his subject. “What is it exactly you are doing?” To this day I do not have the slightest clue what he said. While he was talking I grabbed the remote to change the channel. I slowly pulled my sweaty bare feet out of my boat shoes and kicked them to the side as usual.
I have a condition that I don’t like to talk about, hyperhidrosis. It’s where your hands and feet are sweaty and clammy all the time. Every day after being in my shoes for hours, my feet are very wet by the time I get home. Anytime I walk barefoot across the linoleum floor or the bathroom floor I leave a footprint behind as if I just got out of the shower. When I wear socks, I would come home with them very soaked, as if I had walked through an ankle deep puddle of water. Maybe not that wet, but you get the picture. That’s why I almost never wear socks. I digress.
I got up from the couch and walked over to the fridge. “Sounds like you could use a beer.” He did not make a sound. I opened the fridge and grabbed two beers. I closed the fridge and turned around to go back to the couch when, whoa! Ryan was standing freakishly close to me and he was still staring down at my feet. “Whoa man? You alright?” He just froze. I slipped passed him to go back to the couch. As soon as I sat down, I twisted off my beer and as I started to lift it to my mouth I looked out the corner of my eye and whoa! There he was again sitting freakishly close. I lunged forward, spit up my beer, and jump off the couch.
“Dude! You are seriously starting to freak me out!”
He finally spoke after I saw him drool, “Holy Cow man, are those your feet?!” I had no idea how to respond to that.
“Oh man,” Ryan said. He finally looked up at me. Still trying to keep cool I sat back down on the couch and he got off the couch and got down on all fours and started to touch my feet, caress my feet, and he started to massage them. At first his sensual massage felt pretty good after all I had been on my flat feet for several hours without any socks. He wrapped his tongue around my big toe and then sucked several of my toes. He slowly moved down my foot with his tongue. I’d be lying if I said it didn’t feel awesome.
It is hard to explain but it was just weird. My heart raced waiting for the weirdness to go away. “Ever had a foot massage before?” He asked me.
“Can’t say that I have. You look like you know what you’re doing. Have you done this before?” I asked. He didn’t answer.
“So what size shoe do you wear?”
“I usually wear a 16.” I said.
Ryan’s eyes got real big. “Is that bigger than Shaquil O’Neal?” he asked.
“I don’t think so. I think he wears like a 20 or a 25.” Ok what the heck am I talking about now? I chugged the rest of my beer and stared at the TV making every attempt to get past this weirdness. Then I felt my cock stand up in my pants, and I knew right away I had to get away from this scene.
“Whoa, look at the time,” I said as I pretended to look at a watch. I faked a yawn, “I better get to bed.” I sprinted to my bedroom. The skin on the bottoms of my wet feet pounded against the floor. “G’night,” I said as I slammed the door. I think all of that research made Ryan snap.
Alarm clock went off the next morning, and felt something on my foot. I pulled the covers back and saw Ryan still gnawing on my feet like a dog with his toys. It still felt a little weird, but damn he was cute. It was weird but I actually liked it. I reached up and patted him on the head, “Ok boy, it’s time for me to get up.” After my shower with the towel still wrapped around me, Ryan came into my room with a plate of breakfast for me and he resumed massaging my feet while. Then while I was still sitting he grabbed some clothes for me, and he kissed my feet one last time before he put my shoes on for me. He just looked so sexy nibbling on my feet, and I got hornier each time I watch him do it.
When I opened the door after a long day at work, Ryan jumped off the couch and smiled as if he had been sitting there waiting for me all day. He did not say a word but grabbed a beer from the fridge and joined me on the couch. While I drank my beer he got down on the floor and sniffed around my ankles and my sockless feet. He pulled my shoes off using his chin, and I decided to have a little fun with him. I got up and made him chase me around the couch. His eyes were still on my feet. After a few minutes I let him outsmart me. He caught up with me, wrapped his arms around my legs, and like white on rice his mouth and hands were once again clamped on my feet all night long. Meanwhile I sat back, drank my beer and watched TV with a smile.
Ryan worshiped my bare feet non-stop for the rest of that night. He must really like slimy feet. After about three or four hours, with my cock ready to explode several times, I decided to return the favor. I picked the tiny man up off the floor, carried him to my room, threw him down on the bed, and pulled our pants and shirts off. He lay on the bed while I stood over him as I ran my foot across his bulge, and with my toes I pinched his underwear and slowly moved them off his cock. For only being five foot tall he was surprisingly hung, but compared to my massive foot his dick looked no bigger than a cocktail wiener (no pun intended). I climbed into bed and positioned myself with one foot stroking his dick while I scratched his ball sack with the other. He smiled and moaned with his eyes closed and his arms folded behind his head. I could tell he was in a pure state of ecstasy that he had never experienced before. At just the right moment I positioned my feet to receive his cum.
“Hey Ryan,” I smiled as I stood, “would you like to see if that myth about guys with big feet is true?” He stuck his tongue out as if to beg. I grabbed him over to my groin, dropped my underwear, and fucked his mouth with my baseball bat size dick.
Then I turned him around and shoved it into his extremely tight ass. Being a science nerd of course he was a virgin. I don’t know how but I eventually got it in. He moaned and screamed until I came inside. With that we both took some deep breathes and crawled under the covers. I wrapped my arms around his skinny little body, kissed him on the forehead, and we fell asleep. What an awesome night.
We went through this same routine day and night for who knows how many years now. Each morning I would wake up to his foot massages, and each day as soon as I came home he would pamper my feet as I would sit back, drink my beer, and enjoy my life. Then when I went to bed he would worship my feet even after I fell asleep. He just cannot get enough of my feet.
Ryan also cooks my food, does my laundry, and cleans my place. Anytime I would offer to help him with the chores, he would gesture for me to sit down and relax. He waits on me hand and…well you get the idea. All I do is stroke his cock with my slimy feet, and shove my cock into his tiny ass. I also let him smell my shoes after I’ve been running. He loves to smell my shoes since I never wear socks with them and they're always so damp. I am pampered and spoiled beyond my wildest dreams, and my feet almost never touch the floor. When I do, however, have to walk on the floor. I leave a wet print as usual. Ryan would follow very close behind and clean it up with his tongue. This is why I took out the carpet and put in hardwood floor everywhere.
The strange thing is Ryan has not said one word since the day this started. I’ll ask him a question and he just responds with a smile, a nod, a shake, or a moan. He does not make eye contact with me. His eyes are always on the floor at my feet. He’s taken to eating face down from a bowl of dry cereal and drinks (or is it laps?) from a bowl of water on the floor next to the couch. I come home from work each day and he acts like he hasn’t seen me in days. In fact I could be gone from the apartment for as little as an hour and he acts like he hasn’t seen me in days.
Ryan stopped doing his research, but he was still getting grant checks and other financial aid, from which he spent every last penny on foot care products. Creams, lotions, exfoliates, you name it. He has a lifetime supply of foot care products so he could spoil me more and more each day which is great since the promotion at work meant longer hours and more pressure on my feet. My feet are clearly his whole life.
For Christmas one year, or maybe it was my birthday, the little man used his last grant check to buy me a professional foot bath, the kind they use in the nail salons. There’s no telling how much it cost. I told him to please take it back because I already had the best foot-bath for free. He knew exactly what I meant and he loves it when I say stuff like that.
I used to spend most of my life feeling down like I did not matter to anyone, but now here I am with someone who, literally, worships my every step. Ryan’s love for my feet restored all of the confidence I never had in myself and I owe it all to the little man. I started making friends and playing sports at the gym. My friends think Ryan is cute. They like to come over and watch him do everything for me with or without command, but I make it very clear that the little man belongs to me and no one else.
