by Chris Plum
I can't remember, but my big brother once told me that when I was a very young, my dad used to put me on his feet when we lay on the sofa and watched TV together. My father naively thought nothing of it and saw me as an available little foot warmer. That changed when my parents often had arguments, he was at home less often and ultimately he was hardly in the living room with me anymore.
My father is a typical craftsman and works in a carpentry workshop. He must always wear safety shoes at work. He often assembles large, heavy constructions at the customer's home and is therefore often on the road with the truck for a long time. He often worked overtime and wore his tight safety shoes for 13-14 hours. As a rather simple man, he didn't take it too seriously when it came to changing socks. Wearing the same pair 3-4 times was a habit for him. It didn't bother him even when he was working out in the gym after work. Mum would often throw his sweaty, smelly socks straight into the trash if they were lying on the floor. She was of the opinion that the socks still stink after 3 washes.
Dad is a huge man with an athletic body, beard and striking looks. He always needed a shoemaker for his shoes, because size 22 shoes weren't available in the shoe shop. Luckily for him, he wasn't the only one with this problem, because his boss had the same shoe size and often got him new shoes if he had them made by the cobbler himself.
After a few years my big brother went to college and my mum left my dad for another man. Since my mother's new partner didn't want her to take me with her, I stayed alone with my dad.
When I was 15, I did the housework at home completely independently. My duties included cooking and washing. Dad was used to having his socks thrown away because of the extreme stench like Mum did. Accordingly, he did not notice at first when I secretly began to put his worn socks in the cover of my pillow and to collect them in my bed. I don’t know why, but I loved the smelly of this stinky socks.
I was woken up one morning when my dad yelled excitedly, "Damn shit!" Shortly thereafter, my room door opened: "Good morning my little one, unfortunately I can't find any more socks. There aren't any in the laundry either and I can't find the socks from last night either!” I was still half asleep when I sat up in bed, but noticed his confused look as he stood barefoot in the doorway. "What's that smell in your room...?" he asked. He entered my room and sniffed frantically through his nose. He tried to find out where the smell was coming from and approached my bed. Suddenly he saw one of his old socks next to my bed. Four more were on my pillow. He carefully pulled my duvet aside. My mattress was covered in Dad's musty old socks. Surprised, he grabbed a sock and felt that he had ejaculated into it several times. He knew what such a sock felt like, because when he was a teenager he used to cum in his socks so he didn't have to have handkerchiefs next to the bed. Without a word and with a questioning look, he left my room. A minute later I heard the door slam. He went to work.
I started the day embarrassed, walked to school as usual and wondered what my dad was thinking about me right now. At the same time, I was sorry that he is wearing his safety shoes without socks today. It's summer and, according to the weather forecast, the hottest day of the year. When I got home it was quiet as usual. I did my homework and housekeeping. I nervously stared at the clock and waited for my father to come home. What will he say and how am I supposed to justify myself?
It was exactly 8:00 p.m. when I heard the door open. Meanwhile, I sat waiting in the living room and stared at the floor in embarrassment. Loud big footsteps approached menacingly. Looking down at the floor, I saw my father's work shoes right in front of me. Normally we never wear shoes in the house. I looked up at him with a guilty look. His facial expression was friendly. He smiled a little. “Even as a child you were fascinated by my big feet. I can't take my shoes off most people because they can't stand the smell. It seems you're different, isn't it?"
"I've always liked the smell," I said. "Sorry about this morning, Dad! Were you able to find some more socks for work?” he shook his head and his grin widened. "I forgive you, but as an apology you will give me a foot massage today! Putting on safety shoes without socks is torture! That's the least you can get in return, isn't it?"
Eagerly he sat down in a chair and put his feet on the stool. "Come on my little one, I can't wear the work shoes for a minute!" I knelt in front of the stool and untied the laces. As I was taking off his shoes, I was met with such a strong odor that it was too strong even for me. "uhhhh, great god! No socks in these shoes in this weather? There's a lot of accumulation there!” said my dad with a big grin. It's the first time I've seen the soles of my father's feet up close since I was a teenager. Even one of his feet could cover my entire face. The feet are extremely masculine and yet the skin looks very soft. His feet radiate great warmth and intense fragrance. The soles are a bit dirty from the old work shoes, there is also dirt between the toes. The sweat can be seen everywhere and has collected on the toes in small lumps. While I was still staring, he made a gap between his two feet to be able to look into my eyes. "Do you like it down there? I hope you also like the feet you stole the socks from!”
I carefully grabbed one of his massive feet and started massaging it. My hands guided up and down. Dad watched me happily meanwhile. After just a few moments, I said, "Dad, your bare feet stink a lot more than your socks! That's a bit too much for me, I think!"
"Do you think that? Whose fault is it that I couldn't wear socks to work today? I suppose it wouldn't be half as bad and my feet wouldn't be dirty?” Dad grabbed one of his huge feet with one hand and pulled him in so he could see the bottom of the foot. "...disgusting how dirty my feet are! It's your fault, my little one! If my feet were just a little cleaner, I'm sure they wouldn't stink so badly!"
"You could wash your feet, when they're clean I'll massage your feet all evening, I promise!" I offered him. He raised an eyebrow and shook his head. "I'm sitting so comfortably right now, the day in the shoes without socks was very exhausting! I don't want to get up right now! ...any idea how to get my big, sweaty feet clean so you can massage the rest of the evening?” With that, my father's expression changed into a commanding way. Right in front of my face, he circled his worker's feet, spread and wiggled his toes like he already had something in mind. "Dad, I can get a bucket of water" were the last words before he leaned forward, grabbed my head with one hand and pressed my face against the soles of his feet. At the same time he began to rub my face over the soles and spread sweat and dirt all over my face.
After a short time he pulled a foot to himself to look at the sole. "A good start!" he said. "Now a little more moisture and my feet will be really fresh!" He looked me in the eye, his bare, smelly feet left and right of my face and he commanded in a decisive tone: "LICK THEM CLEAN!"
My gaze wandered again to his gigantic feet. I slowly opened my mouth and carefully stuck out the tip of my tongue. My tongue gently touched his dirty feet. The taste was salty and good in its own way. I lost my inhibitions and began licking large areas of his soles. I swallowed every sweat and dirt. There was a lot for me to do between the toes. The stench and taste combined got me intoxicated. My dad meanwhile sat back contentedly, closed his eyes and threw his hands behind his head. "Little one, I could get used to that!" "...Me too," I replied as a broad grin appeared on his lips.
It took a while before I felt like I was done. "All done," I said. My father carefully examined the soles of his feet and felt that there was still much room for improvement. The details matter, he claimed. He got up from the armchair and walked towards the bedrooms. I looked after him with a questioning look. "You can take care of the details tonight! From now on you sleep at my feet! Why stuff your pillow with my smelly socks when you can use my feet directly as a pillow?” exhausted and tired I followed him. He lay down on the bed, his body turned sideways. I lay across the foot end. Without a word, I took one foot in my arm, put my face on it and closed my eyes. A short time later the second foot landed on my face. Surrounded by a pleasantly warm feeling, we both fell asleep.
The next morning it was Saturday and there was no reason to leave the apartment early. I spent the night with my father's feet on my face and actually slept very well. I wondered whether he was serious about the fact that this will always be the case. I kissed my dad's feet a few more times and rubbed my face against them before finally getting up to go to the kitchen to make breakfast. Meanwhile, my father slept on until his cell phone on the bedside table suddenly rang loudly. A few minutes later he stood in front of me fully clothed and said that he had to go to work because of a problem and needed my help today. I nodded my head in surprise, got dressed and got into the car with him. We didn't exchange a word during the drive.
His boss was already standing in front of the company building when we arrived. It seemed like he was very tense, nervous and hectic. This didn't go with his physique at all. He looked more like a fearless, giant Viking. His boots were also huge. Dad once mentioned that his boss has the same shoe size as himself. Even before the car was parked, he came towards us. A major catastrophe had happened, a complaint from an important customer came in last night. The error has to be fixed today. He spent the whole night in the office making new drawings. He couldn't even take a shower, he emphasized tiredly. My dad seems to be making the components from scratch today, but why did he take me with him?
When we got to the building, we first went to the office. The company was completely empty because nobody worked at the weekend. At the boss's place of work, I was told to make myself comfortable and wait a bit. My dad and his boss only went into production to work out the details.
A few minutes later the office door opened. I looked at the boss expectantly as he asked me to stand up so he could sit in his chair. He'd heard interesting things about me, he said. My eyes widened, but I didn't say a word. "I've been wearing the boots non-stop for 32 hours, I can't wait to finally get some relaxation. With his index finger he motioned for me to crawl under his desk. Now I realized why my father took me to work...
To be continued
