by Tenn Sockguy
NOTE: This story is fiction but addresses some real-life events.
Vince McMahon entered his dressing room wearing a dark blue suit with a light blue shirt. Underneath he had on red boxers, navy blue thick and thin sheer dress socks that went over his calves, and shiny black loafers with a silver horse bit buckle.
He sat down in his chair and his pant legs rose up, showing the length of his socks. “I guess this is going to be the last time I wear dress socks for a while,” he said as he looked to me. “Tonight’s show calls for Kane and the Undertaker to break my left leg.”
“I feel a little weird about it. I’m worried about how much it will hurt. They’re supposed to drop the metal stairs onto my leg after we struggle in the ring. I’m also a little excited, too. The thought of being vulnerable there on the floor in front of all the cameras turns me on a bit.”
“Do you want me there to help you?” I asked, studying his feet in his tight blue socks.
“Yes. I want you to hold my foot after they break my leg. You need to hold it still so I don’t get more hurt. I’m supposed to slip my right shoe off during the fight so they know which leg to break, the one with the shoe on. So you’ll need to get my other shoe wherever it is, but just hold it. I want my other socked foot to be exposed. More of the humiliation, you know?”
“I can do that,” I replied. “I’ll be right by your side.”
“Good. I’m wearing these sheer socks for now because they feel so good, and I want to have the memory of these. But I’m going to switch into regular nylon socks before the show. Don’t want to be seen on TV in these. I love them, but they’re a little too much for my TV image.”
He leaned back into his chair and applied his makeup for television. As he powdered his face, he popped his heels out of his shoes and slipped his feet out. I could see the outline of his bare feet in his sheer socks. He started to rub his feet together.
“My feet are so sore,” he said. “I’m looking forward to getting off my feet while I recover. You’re going to have to come over and sit with me and tend to my leg.”
“I’ll be there,” I said, imagining sitting under his broken leg and bare foot and sheer socked right foot on his sofa. “I could give you a massage now if you would like.”
“I would.” He popped his shoes back on and moved over to the couch, calling me over to sit on the end. He sat down and put his feet into my lap. I grabbed them and slipped off his loafers.
“Keep my socks on for now,” he commanded. “In a little bit you can take them off and change them for the show.”
“What socks are you going to wear,” I asked as I caressed his soft sheer-socked foot.
“There’s a pair of black ribbed nylon socks in my bag. They won’t slide down and they will look good on TV, but I’ll still be in nylon.”
I worked over his arches and his heels. I took each of his toes and wiggled them. He smiled and his waist twitched a bit. I knew I was turning him on. I picked his right foot up and sniffed deeply in the space between his toes and kissed the ball of his sheer-socked foot.
“You’re so good at this. I love having you work on my feet,” he said.
He picked his left foot up and shoved it in my face. “I know you like this, too. Now focus on this one. You won’t get to enjoy it for a while.”
I lightly tickled his arch and sniffed the space under his toes. I pulled his toes back and kissed all over his arch and heels. As I started to wiggle his toes, I felt them curl, and I knew he was close.
“Take my sock off. You’re going to wear my socks for the rest of the night.”
He was so powerful. I reached inside his blue pinstripe suit pants and grabbed the top of his sock. I pulled it down to his heel as he flexed his foot. I worked the sock over his heel and pulled it up his arch, with his sock still clinging tightly to his toes. I reached my fingers inside the sock, feeling Mr. McMahon’s soft, sweaty bare foot and tight sheer sock, and slipped the sock over his curling toes. He moaned slightly and his hips spasmed. I knew he came.
He paused for a moment, breathing and enjoying the moment. “I’m going to have to have a new pair of boxers. Take this other sock off and help me get cleaned up.”
I slipped my hands into his right leg and pulled down his sock over his calf. Mr. McMahon stuck his bare left foot in my face.
“Suck my toes while you take my sock off,” he demanded as he shoved his toes into my mouth. I licked the sock smell and sweat off his foot as I removed his right sock. I came hard into my pants. I knew I would need some new underwear, too.
He reached into his bag and pulled out and pulled out a pair of ribbed black nylon dress socks and a new pair of boxers. I changed my boxers, too, and sat down on the sofa beside Mr. McMahon.
“Put my socks on your feet, and put these new socks on my feet.” I slipped off my black tassel loafers and pulled off my own blue sheer socks and replaced them with Mr. McMahon’s. Then I slipped the black nylon socks onto his feet.
“Now put your feet against mine.” We rubbed our socked feet together for a minute, both of us wearing Mr. McMahon’s socks.
“Kiss my feet goodbye and put my shoes on.” I did as I was told, sealing away his feet until his planned attack in a couple hours.
Mr. McMahon stood and walked to the door. “I’m ready. I’ll see you soon.” And he left.
That night, in the staged attack, Kane pulled Mr. McMahon out of the ring by his socked foot and dragged him to the steel stairs at the corner of the ring. But he couldn’t remember which leg he was supposed to hurt, and held Mr. McMahon’s socked foot while Mr. McMahon put his own left leg on the block. The Undertaker dropped the stairs on Mr. McMahon’s leg and broke it, and Mr. McMahon writhed on the ground in pain with his right foot only in a sock, and his broken left leg propped up on the stairs. I rushed out and held his left shoe on his foot, and grabbed his right shoe out of the ring. As he writhed in pain, with me holding his foot, he reached his hand into my shoe and held my foot in his sock and twitched his hips. The toes on his right foot curled as I watched, and I knew he had come again.
Once we arrived at the hospital, Mr. McMahon asked me to take off his shoes and socks and hold them for him. I slipped his socks off his feet in the emergency room and helped him out of his clothes. I wiggled his bare toes one last time before they wrapped his leg, leaving his left foot sockless for a month.
I knew we had some fun times ahead.
