by SckFtTklFtsh
I don’t know why I got such a kick from posting videos and photos of my feet and socks online. Was it the comments? The ‘Likes’? Or the private messages containing photos of rock-hard cocks and cum shots, all said to have been a result of the content I posted?
I actually enjoyed the process of making the videos. I was turned on by the thought of guys watching me. Getting myself off at the thought of them getting off. Each time I put my feet in front of the camera to begin a shoe/sock strip, the telltale firming of my cock was immediate.
The many comments telling me how much they enjoyed watching me swirled in my head, encouraging me to kick off my shoes, rub my feet together, peel off my socks, wiggle my toes as close to the lens as possible was major turn-on. That lens was literally thousands of eyes watching me and I loved it. Of course, you never know who is really watching. And one day, I found out with unexpected and mind-blowing consequences…
It was actually a sheer-sock strip video that turned out to be the key to fulfilling one of my greatest fantasies. In it, I slipped off a pair of black Gucci loafers to reveal my size 12 feet in black sheer ribbed socks, with a subtle embroidered pattern up the ankle. As requested by one viewer, I proceeded to give a show, placing my socked soles directly in front of the screen (he said when he watched the video on his computer they were almost actual size). Then I wiggled my toes as frantically as I could, scrunching them and flexing them, stretching the sheer fabric to its limits as it revealed tantalizing glimpses of my soles and long toes. He then liked me to tickle my feet, wriggling my toes as if trying to escape the strokes and scratches across my soles-which were made even more intense by the sheer fabric of my socks. I’d then slowly peel off the socks and repeat the whole process on my bare feet. My followers were more into socks, but I always catered for the barefoot guys too that loved to see my huge feet bare-pink and sweaty after being released from the hot leather and nylon of my socks and shoes. Then, as I got more confident (or cocky?), I’d sneakily show my face for a split second and peak into shot just before I turned off the camera.
It was during a usual joking about at work the next day that my unexpected viewer revealed himself. There were five of us on the construction site, talking, laughing, poking fun at each other as always, when I, convulsed in fits of laughter heard the chilling words, “Look at him! It wasn’t that funny! You tickling yourself again?!” Shocked and flushed, I managed to make my laughing ease softly rather than the abrupt halt which is what I felt like doing. I stared at my boss Lee, who raised his eyebrows and smirked knowingly at me with a look that said, “I know your secret”. As we continued our staredown, which seemed to last forever when it was actually seconds, I managed to say through the thousands of butterflies that seemed to be fluttering wildly in my stomach and throat, “Shut up! I thought it was funny!”.
The following days were a torturous game of cat-and-mouse as he taunted me. He relished seeing me flush with embarrassment when he dropped countless hints as to what he knew into the conversation, prompting my colleagues to join him in mercilessly mock the size of my feet, call me Mr Tickle after the cartoon character “because of his long arms”, or lead them in countless tickle attacks which consisted of them poking me in the ribs and sides continuously whenever they passed me, laughing uproariously as I jumped and wriggled away from their probing fingers. “Got him!” they’d shout in triumph as I recoiled in embarrassment and raging desire, trying desperately to hide the instant hardness in my pants.
I loved it you see. I had a secret, major crush on all of them-my favourite changing daily depending on the interaction we’d shared that dare or who looked the best that day. My secret foot fetish was also a main factor. My favourite times of the day were just before beginning work and just after, as we all met in the car park to change from trainers to work boots in the morning and back again in the evening. I’d visually devour the sight of them all, checking each to see what kind of socks they were all wearing and storing the images in my head ready to re-view over and over that night in my fantasies. Occasionally the guys took off their work boots and jumped straight in the work truck, driving home in their work socks. As the manly smell pervaded the cabin of the truck as three of us were travelling home, I’d pretend to be looking at my phone, my eyes firmly downwards taking in every second of the view of their socked feet. The view of Lee’s thick grey Jeep socks pressing down on the pedals to the left of me drove me insane, while to the right, Ian would regularly prop his socked feet up on the dashboard, most regularly in a pair of soccer socks. After they dropped me at home, I was barely through the front door before I had to run upstairs and jerk off over that day’s visual treats.
One day, Lee asked me to come round to his house that night to discuss some changes that were “afoot” (there he goes again) at work but asked me not to tell anyone. I agreed but was hesitant. I still wasn’t sure if he knew my secret or if I was just extremely paranoid and seeing things that weren’t there. I was terrified my fetish would be revealed and had immediately deleted all of my YouTube videos which showed my face. “No problem”, I said. “What time?” “I’ll text you later,” he replied.
A couple of hours later, the text arrived. “Come round at 7? And wear those see-through socks from your video ;-)”
My stomach dropped and my heart felt like I was having palpitations. I could barely see and blood was rushing through my ears. Shit. What should I do? I went into the toilet and locked the door behind me, giving me a minute to breathe and gather myself. He knew. As I mulled things over, it came to me that yes, he knew, but rather than humiliate me in front of everyone, he was also playing games and keeping secrets. OK. I’d go round and see what his game was. “OK. C U then” I replied simply, making sure I said nothing that could be misconstrued or misinterpreted. The remainder of the day dragged as I tried to focus on work, but kept slipping into a daydream thinking of what could happen. My stomach was turning somersaults and I felt sick with desire. I tried my best to hide how I was feeling but Lee obviously knew the impact he was having on me-smirking everytime he passed me. Once he even winked. I thought I was going to explode.
Eventually, the day ended and we kicked off our boots and hi-vis vests and piled into the truck to go home. The journey was as normal as possible, but I don’t know how Ian wasn’t aware of the fizzing energy between Lee and I with our sideways glances and knowing smiles. Climbing out of the truck, we said our usual goodbyes, but the look exchanged between Lee and I said a whole lot more and confirmed to me what tonight was going to be about.
Getting dressed for the night, my mind was whirling with what was happening? How? Lee was the straightest, most masculine guy I’d ever known. All the guys at work were-that was the attraction. Then a thought struck me. What if this was a trap? Some kind of sick game? What if they were all there when I got there and were planning to confront me and humiliate me… Oh, he wouldn’t. They wouldn’t. I was being stupid.
As he had specifically asked me to wear those black sheer socks, I decided to wear the entire outfit I’d worn in that video and wore tight black trousers, a crisp white shirt and my Gucci loafers. I jumped into a taxi and pulled up outside Lee’s house at 7pm exactly. As soon as he opened the door, I felt completely overdressed. He was in a pair slim-fitting t-shirt which showed off his muscular frame, jogging bottoms and a pair of white Nike no-show socks. He looked absolutely perfect.
“Come in,” he grinned. I stepped into the hallway and slipped off my loafers before walking into the living room, conscious of the hard wood floors through my ultra-thin socks. “Sit down,” Lee gestured to one end of the sofa and handed me a bottle of beer. I sat, while he muted the TV.
“So?” I said nervously, “changes are coming at work eh?”
Lee burst out laughing. “What?” I asked.
“Come off it, you know why I asked you here!” Lee said. “I pretty much told you in the text!”
“But, what…” I began as Lee put his finger to his lips to Ssh me and pointed the remote at the TV. Suddenly a pair of sheer-socked feet filled the screen, toes wiggling frantically as fingers traced the vulnerable soles… “Look,” Lee indicated the bulging erection in his pants. “Fuck, man!”
“But I thought…” I began again bewildered.
“Look,” he said. “I know. I’ve never ever been attracted to guys ever, but we all have our kinks and fetishes, don’t we? I was on YouTube looking at girls in stockings and nylons. I was..” he indicated his penis. “Taking care of business and when I looked up, your feet were on the screen. Shot the biggest load ever!” We both burst out laughing at the ridiculousness of the situation. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it since!”
“But I deleted the video,” I said. “How have you..” “I downloaded it” he interjected. “I’ve watched and watched and watched it and now,” he said. “I want to try the real-life version.”
He sat at the opposite end of the sofa and patted his knees for me to put my feet there.
“Lee…” I began. “You know you want to!” he laughed. “Don’t think I haven’t seen you perving over our feet when you think we’re not looking. And I watched your other videos. I know what you like!”
He patted his knees again and winked. Oh my god, I thought, raising my feet onto his lap, my insides churning. My inner turmoil was quickly broken as I jumped and squealed as his finger traced my sole. “Lee, wait!” I giggled. “Fuck me, you are ticklish, aren’t you?!” he taunted as his fingers picked up a steady rhythm on my arches and instep. “Aaaaaahahahahahahaha! Please Lee no!” I screamed as his fingers elicited shockwaves through my entire body. “Please!!” I begged. I was used to the feeling having done it to myself countless times on video and thought it was ticklish, but I was unprepared for the convulsions I experienced as he probed the base of my toes. “Oh, there’s that wiggling!” he taunted as I flexed, stretched, tried to pull my feet from his grasp. “Lee!” I gasped through hysterical fits, “I can’t”. “Please” ‘No” “Aahahahahahahaha!”
“You’re fucking loving this aren’t you?!” he laughed. And he was right. I was. But it was also torture. I didn’t know if I was going to cum or piss myself. “Lee stop!” I screamed, eventually convincing him to grant me brief mercy. “Fucking hell!” I pulled my feet away and sat back, gasping for air. He sat back and laughed at me. “So that wasn’t all acting then was it?!” he indicated the screen where my feet were again undergoing an intense tickle torture-though this time self-administered. “I can’t bear it” I laughed. “I only did it because a viewer requested it!”
“Really? Now what kind of sadistic person would do that?” he grinned at me and raised his eyebrows. “You?!” I asked, playfully punching his arm. I was on fire. “And what about you? How would you like it, eh?!” I reached down and pulled up his foot and started tickling it through his thin white sock.
He responded by wiggling his toes and grinning, but it was more mocking than a genuine reaction. “I’m not ticklish,” he said, wiggling his toes again to mock me. “You liar” I said, trying everything to get a genuine response. I circled his heels, tickled his instep, held his toes back and tickled as hard as I could. Nothing. “I’m not!” he said, laughing at my efforts. “I’ll tell you what though-you can stay down there all night if you like. I love it!” He indicated his rock-hard cock straining to burst through his grey sweatpants.
“Oh really?” I said. “Ok. Then.” I was loving it just as much as he was. I’d dreamed of this. Playing with his feet. Every day I’d taken a mental note of what style and colour socks he was wearing and jerked off over the thought of what I’d like to do to them. In my fantasies he’d always been really ticklish and that would be my chance to have power over him so the fact he wasn’t was slightly disappointing, but I’d still get a chance to exert my power over him.
Instead of frantically tickling every inch of his perfect, size 10 soles, I changed my approach and began sensually tracing my fingers up and down both of his soles, lightly dancing across his toes. “Oh god!” he moaned. I carried on, gently circling his heels, a finger languidly climbing his instep…” His toes curling, I mocked, “now who can’t keep still, eh?!” “Fuck off or I’ll tickle you again!” he smiled, head back eyes closed. “Enjoying it?” I asked as I tickled the tops of his feet lightly. “Love it,” he said.
Next, I unhooked the sock over his heel and began tickling Lee’s bare sole, again eliciting a soft laughter-more from pleasure than ticklishness. “I can’t believe what nice feet you have,” I said as I looked over the perfectly even toenails, soft soles and long thin toes. For someone on his feet all day in heavy boots and plays soccer three times a week they’re perfect”. I added more pressure turning it into a massage rather than a tickle and his enjoyment was obvious. “Oh god” Lee moaned as I kneaded his feet, pulling and stretching. His cock was so hard he had pressed it against his stomach, the tip peeking above the waistband of his boxers. Lee began moving his pelvis in a circling motion, his hand on the shaft of his penis. “Oh no, you don’t” I said, putting a stop to his subtle masturbating by pushing his hands away. “Get me off” he begged. “Not yet!” I grinned.
As soon as I had his socks off and started sucking his toes, his hands were once again over his penis as he tried to masturbate. “NO!” I laughed. I pushed his hands away with my feet and started stroking his cock with them. As my tongue delved between his toes, his motioning grew quicker, prompting me to stop rubbing with my feet. “Come on!” he begged, laughing. “You’re fucking killing me!” When I’d decided enough was enough, I took turns sucking on his toes, pulled down his jogging pants and boxers and slowly moved my sheer-socked feet up and down his rock-hard penis-the thin nylon the only barrier between the sols of my feet and his throbbing cock. He thrusted quicker and quicker until in no time at all his load was all over my socked feet and his stomach. “FUUUUUUCK!” he groaned in orgasmic ecstasy. “Oh my god!” He lay motionless, head back, eyes closed. The only movement his heart beating through his chest. “Fucking hell, what did you just do to me?!” he laughed. “Did I get the promotion then?” I asked, smiling. “What?” “The promotion? You said you wanted to talk to me about work?” “Oh that!” he laughed. “Well, leave it with me and I’m sure I can find you a more er, dominant role within the company!”
I peeled off my socks threw them at him and got up to leave. “Keep them,” I said. “Until next time.” I got up, took a photo of him splayed out, his limp cock lying vertical on his stomach, my cum-soaked socks on his chest. “Just in case,” I winked. Slipped on my loafers and left. As I walked home, my mind was spinning at what had just happened and my cock was aching from pent up passion. “Until next time,” I mused.
I already couldn’t wait.
