by wwcrunner
This is a true story from my early adulthood.
I was a sophomore in college, and went to a small private school in NC. I was a good-looking
guy, toned with a six pack, nice legs from running cross country in both high school and college,
and a cute face. I kept my hair shaved most of the time, and almost looked like one of the
German skinheads that tended to be in the porn I liked. I was still fairly new to being an out gay
man, and had only dated one person at this time. I had also had an intense foot fetish since I
was a teenager, and always sniffed my shoes and socks when I jerked off, and would sneak to
sniff those of my friends.
I met Chase at the club in the town where I was going to school. He was tall, thin, with short
wavy brown hair. He wasn’t muscular, but grew up on a farm, and definitely had some
structure to his frame. He wore jeans, an Abercrombie T-shirt, (this was 2002, so they were still
cool,) a baseball cap, and a cocky expression. When I met him, I noticed that he was kind of
bossing his friends around, and clearly intoxicated. In addition to the rest of his outfit, one of
the first things I noticed while flirting on the dance floor, were his size 12 Nike Shox, R4s, that
he had clearly had for a while. Anyway, we flirted and eventually I left with the friends I was
with without exchanging numbers.
The next day, I was sitting in my dorm room on a gay site, looking for men. Low and behold, I
happened upon his profile, and said hello. Before I knew it, we had met for dinner, hooked up,
and quickly moved into a relationship. Over the course of the next months, we were together
most of the time. I met all of his friends, and we were at the club pretty much every Friday and
Saturday night. Our relationship was tumultuous to say the least. We fought a lot, especially
when we were drinking. We would get into it, scream at each other for a while, and end up
fucking to get through it. I am naturally a pretty passive person, and we were beginning to
develop our roles as the dom and sub in the relationship.
During this time, I also had a lot of change happening in my life. Whilst on the holiday break, I
ended up having to come out to my conservative parents. I was actually drug out of the closet
by my authoritative father, but this ended with me leaving their home late one night and
driving back to NC with nowhere to go. I ended up heading to Chuck’s dorm room, at his school
that sat about an hour from mine, and stayed there for the next week until my dorms opened
back up. During this time, our relationship continued down the same course. He was verbally
abusive and now had some power over me, because I didn’t have anywhere else to go. I was
not able to speak up, and just learned to take his taunting.
The next semester was fine and wrapped up with me leaving the school I attended. It was a
private school, and my parents had cut me off, so I had to find something cheaper that I could
afford on my own. I worked on campus for the summer to get housing, and then come fall, I
needed a place to stay. Chuck had sense dropped out of school and got a full-time job in a
factory. I never knew exactly what he did, but what I did know was that he wore a uniform
every day, along with a pair beat up Chippewa Logger boots that he had had since he was a
teenager. The first time I saw these, I was instantly mesmerized. They were obviously worn
hard, and I would often think about them over my face when he’d fuck me from behind. They
just had to smell amazing. I had snuck and smelled his Nikes and socks along the way and knew
that his feet always stunk.
After minimal conversation, I ended up moving in with Chuck and his family. He moved back in
with them to save money while he worked, and I just moved right into his bedroom. It was a
little awkward at first, but we all got to know each other, I actually got along with his folks
better than he did. This worked well for a few months, and while I started at tech school.
One thing I noticed while living there, was the Chuck always came home, and took those boots
off first thing. I got home after he did, and would always find those boots in the small
bedroom, with the white Hanes crew socks stuffed in them. (Not sure why he didn’t put them
in the hamper right next to where he left his boots, but I enjoyed that little gift.) Every day I
would go into the room, change out of my clothes from the day, and shove one of those rank
socks in my face. I had to sneak and do it, because I knew that he would make fun of me. In
fact, there was an older guy that he and his friends made fun of, who was into feet and boots.
They really tormented him online, and I knew that I couldn’t let that happen to me.
As the weeks went on, our relationship became a bit stale, and every night, we would lay in his
bed taking swigs from a bottle of Wild Turkey. I hated the stuff, but didn’t want to be the sober
one in the room, when he was drunk. He got a little meaner when he drank, and I needed
something to numb me. Of course, his mom hated that we drank, so we tried to hide it which
rarely worked.
One evening, we were following this same ritual, and I can’t remember exactly why, but I began
to feel emboldened to share some more sexual information with him. I had shared that there
was something I needed to tell him, but then couldn’t get it out. He became very angry,
assuming that I had cheated on him, so I finally blurted it out, to get him to stop yelling.
“You know the dude that y’all make fun of, that’s into boots?” I asked.
“Yeah, and??”
“Well, I never said anything because y’all are so mean to him, but I’m into that too.”
The room fell silent for a bit, and he grimaced. I finally started talking again, begging him not to
tell anyone, and saying that it wasn’t big deal and that we could just forget about it.
He was clearly disgusted, but eventually seemed to see how he could use this to his advantage.
Finally, a grin appeared on his face, and he simply said, “put my boots on.”
I protested a bit, embarrassed about what I had said, and unsure what would come next.
He then got forceful and ordered me to put his boots on him.
So, I sat up in bed, reached over and grabbed them. I reached inside to grab the socks out, and
he said, “well, you knew right where those were, didn’t you?” I started to speak, and he said,
“shut up and put them on me.”
As I pulled the damp sweaty socks onto his feet, I was already getting aroused. I could smell
them. They were strong, with a sweat and vinegary scent, and the boots had the same, mixed
with well used leather. When I picked up the first heavy boot, I felt obliged to bring it to my
face and sniff it. He laughed, and said, “you’ll get plenty of that, just put it on.”
I pulled the giant boot onto his foot. It looked so fucking hot, with the dirty white socks sticking
out of the top. I laced them up as tight as I could, and he said, “well, you might be good for
something after all.” I also noticed that he had pulled his boxers down, and his dick was as hard
as mine. I finished with the other boot in similar fashion, and he simply said, “now get down
there and lick them.”
I quickly did so, embarrassed at the predicament that I was in, but also hornier than I had ever
been. If you haven’t had the chance to sniff the boots for a redneck from North Carolina, you
really have no idea just how amazing they are. He had spent years in those boots, sweating,
with no consideration of ever cleaning them. They were their own habitat, and I loved every bit
of it. I could smell his rank feet through the leather as I licked the outside. I cleaned the toe,
and around to each side, all the way up to the top, where the scent was escaping.
Eventually, he told me to untie them. I automatically grabbed one of the ratty laces with my
teeth, and he said, “good boy.” I loosened the knot, and pulled the laces off of each of the five
hooks, on both sides of the boot. The next part was what quickly became my favorite part of
my evenings. I pulled the tongue of the boot out with my teeth, and then worked my face into
the opening, with it pressed between the wet musky boot and his sock covered ankle. I stayed
there for a minute, just breathing in the smell. I reached for my cock, and he smacked my hand
away. “Not yet pig, you can take care of that when I’m done.
With my face in that position, he lifted his foot out of the boot, making room for me to go
deeper into it. He then put his socked foot on the back of my head and pushed it in there. He
then gave me a gentle but affirming, “I could get used to this.”
Eventually, he lifted his foot, and instructed me to do the other one. I followed the same steps,
since it had pleased him the first time. This time though, he kept sticking the now free socked
foot into my face and mouth as I was trying to free the other one. I took every opportunity to
breath in the odor and taste that dirty wet sock.
With both boots off, they lay at the end of the bed. He then instructed me to take off his socks.
I did this, started with my teeth, and then assisting with my fingers. With one off, I took the
chance to get his toes in my mouth. They tasted just as strong as the socks, and I was in fucking
heaven. I licked between each one, while I held the nasty sock over my nose. He was moaning,
and laughed occasionally. I was committed now, so didn’t let it affect me. The fear that this
might be the only time lingered in my mind. What if he kicked me out, and I was on my own?
What if he told all of our friends, or even his family? I would be ruined, but that fear wasn‘t as
strong as my need to keep going.
I worshipped those nasty socks and feet, as the boots lay by my head. After smelling every
scent they had to offer, he finally said, “now flip over.” I did as I was told and rolled over on my
belly. As though he had done it before, he grabbed one sock, and stuck it toe first in my mouth.
He forced it in, so it wasn’t coming out without some effort. He then took the toe of the other
one, and placed it directly over my nose, wading the rest up in front of that, so it was a thick
wad of cotton. Next, as you might guess, he picked up a boot, pulled back the tongue, and
shoved my face into it. I had never felt anything like this before. I could taste the indescribably
rank sweat from his day old feet through the socks. I could smell both the socks and the deep
inside of his old boot. He kept my head deep down inside the boot, and I quickly stuck my hand
inside the other one, feeling the damp slimy material. I used it to help secure the other one
over my face.
I heard him spit, and before I knew it, was he stuck his entire cock in my ass. He didn’t waste
anytime getting it in, but I had taken it plenty of times before, so wasn’t an issue. He fucked me
hard and fast. With every thrust, he pulled the boot harder over my face, and after just a few
short minutes, I heard him begin to moan, and knew he was close. I was also getting pretty
close, just from my hard cock rubbing against the sheets.
With a couple more violent thrusts, he gasped and bred my eager little ass. He gave a couple
more awkward movements, and I knew he was done. Then, he grabbed both sides of the top of
the boot over my face, and pulled it hard. He said, “I know you’ve never had anything this good
before. Keep sniffing, and stroke your cock.”
I pulled the right hand out of the second boot, and grabbed my throbbing cock underneath me.
He pulled my head back just long enough to grab the lose sock out. He put it in my hand and
said, “use this.”
Like I had done so many times without him knowing, I pulled the sock onto my dick, and began
to rub jerk myself off. Every sense was engaged, as I tasted and smelled his ripe feet and boots.
I had opened my eyes, and enjoyed seeing the worn darkened brown inner boot in my face. I
felt his cock that was still in my ass as well as the wet sock on my cock. In a moment of
absolute fucking bliss, I finally blew my wad into his dirty socks. After convulsing for what
seemed like minutes, he loosened his grip. I somewhat reluctantly withdrew my head from the
boot, and he pulled the sock out of my mouth. He then grabbed the cum filled on, and rubbed
it in my face, taunting me.
We each swigged the Wild Turkey again and took a moment to gather ourselves. He motioned
at the foot of the bed, and I quickly cleared off the boots and socks. As we lay back, he grabbed
the remote control, and we sat as he flipped channels.
After a moment, in a very matter of fact way, said, “you probably want to drink my piss too, don’t you?”
