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I work at a retail store in a mall, so you can only
imagine all the male patrons who come in---and all the
glances I steal at their feet. I'm a sucker for big
feet, so any guy who comes in with about a size 12 or
bigger *really* grabs my attention.
One Sunday afternoon I was just walking around the
store when I happened to run into a party of 2 women,
a man, and a little boy they had with them. The man
was in his '30s, about my height (6'6"), and my
eyes shot straight to his feet.
I couldn't believe it. They were huge.
Literally--*HUGE*. I was sure they had to be at least
a size 18, if not bigger. My heart started racing and
I about stumbled over myself trying to follow this
Bigfoot. What's more, he was handsome, too. Short
blonde hair, clean-shaven, kinda stocky build...a nice
slice o' Heaven. He was wearing a button-down blue
shirt, jeans, and about the biggest sneakers I'd
ever seen.
Pretty soon they left---except for the man. It was
too good to be true that I now had him all to myself.
He was looking at some videos when I got up enough
nerve to go up to him. "This is a once-in-a-lifetime
opportunity," I told myself, "and if I don't act on it
now, I'll never forgive myself."
"Was there a certain movie you were lookin' for?" I
asked in my slight southern accent.
"No thanks," he replied in his, "I was just lookin'
around while they took my nephew to the bathroom."
His voice was kinda low and sexy, and sounded more
matured than my own 23-year old vocals.
"Oh, okay," I replied, saddened at the thought that no
conversation really happened, and that my chance to do
anything was probably missed.
I turned to walk away and he then asked me, "Say, is
there a chair around here someplace?"
Turning back around (trying not to turn *too* fast), I
answered him, "I'm sorry, but no, we don't have
any in here."
"Man, that's too bad. My feet really hurt."
(BINGO!)
I swallowed really hard, praying to God this
conversation would be a good one. "Oh, y'all been
shoppin' all day?"
"Yeah, and you wouldn't believe how sore these big ol'
feet of mine can get after a day of walking."
I thought for sure I would start sweating any minute
now if my heart got any faster or I got any more
nervous. I couldn't believe he was actually talking
to me about his FEET! "Play it cool," I told myself.
"Don't screw this up!"
I looked down at his feet, this time in full view of
him. "Wow!" I said, trying to sound more impressed
and amazed than someone making fun of him, "You *do*
have big feet." Then I asked the question which I had
longed for years to ask a man to his face---"What size
shoe do you wear?"
"18," he said, rocking back on his sturdy heels. He
seemed rather nonchalant about his big feet. He
didn't act prideful or embarrassed, he just said it.
And I felt my horny cock start to expand in my pants.
"That's amazing---I only wear a 12 myself---well,
'only' compared to you, anyway," as I chuckled. I
then realized what I'd said, and hoped he would take
it lightheartedly. Thank God he did.
"Yeah, I guess you don't see many size 18 feet walkin'
around," as he also subtly laughed. "I just wish I
could get a good massage on 'em."
"Do you have any friends or family that give good
massages?"
"No, I live alone, and none of my friends know
anything about giving massages."
Home free. This guy wasn't married, wants attention
on his feet, and never gets a good massage.
"Well actually, it's a good thing you ran into me," I
said, trying to make it sound like Fate had sent him
here. But I did hate to lie---"I've given foot
massages before, and I've been told I'm pretty dang
good at it. I'd be more than happy to give your feet
a good massage if you'd really like."
This man could have NO idea what this meant to me.
He paused and looked down at his feet, then looked at
me again with his piercing green eyes. "Are you
sure?", he asked.
"Yeah, I'd love to! People tell me I'm good at it,
and I enjoy tryin' to make others happy."
"Well, it sure would feel good..." (Little did he know
just how good we'd *both* feel...)
"I'll tell ya what. I get off work in a few hours,
then I could come over to your place and get to work.
I don't wanna sound like I'm inviting myself over, but
I live out of town. This is my weekend job away from
campus."
"Oh, college guy, huh? That's fine, I understand.
Here, lemme write my address and phone number down for
ya."
The piece of paper he wrote on might as well have been
made out of gold, it was so valuable to me.
"So, I'll see you at about 8? Oh, my name's Kevin, by
the way."
He offered his large, strong hand for me to shake.
"Jeff. Nice to meet you."
"You too. Well, I guess I'll see you later."
"Okay, me and my big feet'll be waiting!" he said
with a laugh. He then saw the rest of his party at
the store entrance, and I watched him leave as my eyes
devoured the site of his enormous feet clodhopping
through the store.
The last 4 hours of my shift seemed like 40 as I
paced to and fro in the store and couldn't get the
image of him and his feet out of my head.
Finally it hit. 8:00. Here it was, time to follow
through with my hormonal hallucinations. I clocked
out, got in my car, and stopped for a lil' something
to eat. I figured I'd better eat something before I
went. His address was pretty easy to find---a nice
solitary place just outside of the city. I looked in
the car mirror to make sure I looked my best and got
out car, straightened my work outfit (black pants and
dress shirt, shoes, and socks), and went up to the
door. I rang the doorbell and wasn't surprised to see
my hand slightly trembling. I didn't know what a good
massage was. Now I felt ashamed that I set it up to
make it look like I did. I was lettin' my hormones do
my thinking for me. I just hoped I wouldn't let
me---or him---down.
Like the climax of a movie, the front door opened.
And there he was.
He was dressed the same as when I saw him before, and
stood his stocky, tall body aside to let me into his
home.
HIS home.
HIS house.
HIS boundaries.
I felt like a mouse being led into the most fantastic
trap.
"Come on in, Kevin" he said in a friendly enough tone.
The door shut behind me, and I didn't want it to ever
open again. I still couldn't fathom that I was
actually alone with this man in his house, size 18
feet and all.
"The bedroom's this way," he said, clodhopping in
front of me down through the hall. God, what that man
and his feet did to my hormones.
The "bedroom"? I sure didn't expect that. I wanted
to inqure, but didn't want to ask in case he thought
that maybe I was uncomfortable and he started having
second thoughts. I already didn't know if he was gay,
bi, or straight, and I certainly didn't want to take a
chance on screwing anything up.
After I came in, he closed the door. Nice touch.
"I thought we'd be better off in here since we're both
so tall. My couch isn't all that long, but I can
strech out on my king size bed, and you'll have more
room to work on my feet."
"Okay, that's cool, Jeff," I replied, trying to sound
suave and not sexually turned on.
He sat down on his bed, then immediately froze.
"Uh-oh", I thought, "something's wrong...".
"Oh, maybe we shouldn't do this," he said, scratching
his head.
Not do this?! I had waited years for this, dreamt for
this, yearned for this, *prayed* for this---what did
he mean "maybe we shouldn't do this"?! I was at the
beginning point of devastation when I knew it was up
to me to save the day.
"What, is there something wrong?"
"Well, it's just that I wasn't thinking when I got
home, and I forgot to wash my feet."
"Oh, that's no problem," I tried to reassure him,
"don't worry about it."
"But, my feet really stink," he said with a slightly
sheepish smile.
Could this man BE any more perfect?!
Now here was the tricky part---let him know that it's
okay, while not revealing that I revel in the joy of
smelly male feet. I felt more tense, knowing this
deal could fall through and my dream could shatter.
He went on, "It's been so hot today that my feet have
really been sweatin' up a storm in these shoes, and
when my feet sweat a lot they can stink up a room."
"You have really sweaty feet?", I asked.
"Yeah," he answered, still seeming awkward.
"Good."
He looked at me a bit taken aback, and I quickly tried
to "explain". "You see, the natural sweat of your
feet is the best 'massage oil' you can have. It's
moist and naturally secretes from the pores of your
feet, and whether it's sticky or smooth it's enough to
be useful for a good rub."
Man, if only he bought everything I said, it wouldn't
be too difficult to get to his feet...
"Really? I never thought about that...but still, if I
let you do this, there's gonna be a hell of a smell in
here."
This is where I relied on my "male bonding instincts".
"Hey, it's fine with me. I mean, come on, we're both
grown men, right? I can take it if you can," I said
with a chuckle.
"Well, I guess so...but just remember, you asked for
it." (I sure did...)
As he untied his huge sneakers he said, "I'd leave the
door open to air out the room while you do your
massage, but it won't stay open, so you'll just have
to grin and bear it."
I had no problem with either part.
He tugged off his larger-than-life shoes to reveal
gigantic feet encased in white socks, which looked
stretched out to their full capacity. His shoes
dropped to the floor with a thud like two huge anvils.
The tops of his socks looked clean and new, but when
he sat back against his pillow propped up on the
headboard and stretched out his legs, his wide and
enormously long socked soles showed a nice coating of
yellow sweat stains in the fabric. I could even see
imprints of his toes and heels.
I immediately noticed the heavy aroma of sweaty,
smelly male feet. My hard-on got more and more
intense with each passing second. This felt great for
me, but I tried to hide it so that this man wouldn't
notice it. Trying to repress all these sexual
feeilngs inside me was harder than hell.
I took off my own shoes to be comfortable. My feet
stank after workin' today, but they were no match for
Jeff's. And he knew it, too. I sat on the foot of
the bed and lifted his huge feet into my lap as he
said, "Boy, I'm really sorry about my foot odor. I
guess sometimes I forget just how stinky they can
get."
He was still a little awkward so I tried to console
him. "Hey, I'm still here, aren't I? See? It's not
bad...havin' stinky feet can't be the *worst* thing in
the world," I said with a wink.
(A wink? Oh boy. I'd better watch it...)
"Do you mind if I take off your socks?" I asked. I
felt like this was such a personal question, seeing as
I'm as sexual about men's feet as I am. That's like a
non-fetishist gay guy askin' me if he can take off my
underwear. "It really works better if your feet are
bare."
"Sure, I guess so. You know what you're doing, not
me."
Well, my hormones knew what they were doing, not me.
I grabbed the ankles of his socks---they were the sexy
low-cut kind---and tugged and pulled with some great
strength. I forgot that when guys' feet are sweaty
they can really stick to the socks. I got them off
and tossed them onto the floor. Sadly did I watch
them fall as I wished I could bury my nose in their
heavenly odor...
"Man, this is amazing," Jeff said as I situated his
overgrown feet in my lap. GOD I loved the sight of
his huge bare feet stickin' out of his jeans.
"What's that?" I asked (I hadn't even massaged him
yet, so it couldn't have been that...)
"That you're down there at my big stinky feet and you
don't even seem to mind. I'm tellin' ya, *no*body can
stand the smell of my feet. Even I get really
embarrassed by 'em when I'm alone."
"Well, I guess when you love feet as much as I do, you
don't get bothered by it like most people would." I
was starting to not think about what I was saying, as
I touched his big feet with my waiting hands.
"You *love* feet?" Jeff inquired.
*gulp*
"I--I mean, yeah, like, I love *massaging* feet."
"Oh, okay."
(Phew!)
"Just how big *are* your feet, anyway---have you ever
measured 'em?", I asked, with hormones still raging.
"They're about 16 inches long and 6 or 7 inches wide."
"Boy, I believe it..."
"So you've never seen feet this big, huh?" he teased,
as he flexed his soles and wiggles his toes just under
my nose. My God, if he only knew what he was doing to
me.
I gulped (hopefully quietly), gave a chuckle, and told
him, "No Siree, your feet are definitely the biggest
feet I've ever seen!"
"Yeah, they're the biggest feet most *any*body's ever
seen. These size 18s are great conversation pieces,"
he added with a laugh. I laughed with him, then
proceeded to start before I got myself in any
conspicuous trouble...
I started in good on his feet now. I put my hands on
his smooth, moist heels and rubbed up his soles---his
long, luscious soles. His soles were actually over a
foot long! I just couldn't fathom that. My hands
made love to his feet by kissing the sweat with their
palms and spreading it in between my fingers and all
over his feet. His toes were fairly long and my
fingers slid nicely in among them as well.
I couldn't believe what a good job I was doing with
his feet, and continued to do for the next half hour.
I was reassured of my talent from the soft sounds of
satisfaction from the head of the bed. His naturally
sweaty feet continuously produced the wonderfully
fragrant sweat and heavy odor the whole time I
massaged his extra large feet.
"Oh man.....ooohhh, yeeeeah.....mmmmmmmmmm..."
My heart felt like it was winning a marathon, it was
racing so fast.
"Oh Kevin, this feels so good.....thank you....."
"Hey, my pleasure, Sir."
(Sir?)
He smirked just a bit and said, "What are you, my
servant?" God, if only I was...
I nervously laughed and felt I needed to change the
subject. "Wow, I'm surprised your foot odor's still
so strong in here after about a half hour." I was
flexing his toes back with the palms of my hands over
and over again. Yet when I said this, he curled his
long toes over and rubbed his feet together in a
sheepish way.
"Oh God...I really am sorry, Kevin. I guess I just
get used to it faster, but poor you down there at the
source. You've done really great, you can stop if
it's gettin' to ya."
Man, why did I have to say that?
"No, no. You're fine!"
"No, I hate to think that I might be making you
uncomfortable at all--"
"I'm tellin' ya, your feet don't stink. In fact, they
smell good, watch--" and I don't know how I got up the
nerve to do it, but I actually bent my head down (not
too far, his feet were so tall in my lap) and inhaled
a big nosefull of his foot odor right from under his
toes, where it's often the strongest.
*SNIFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF*
I looked back up at him. "See? Your feet are fine,
the smell doesn't bother me one bit. I just thought
it was interesting that your foot odor has such
longevity." Jeff just watched me. I felt I was
heading into dangerous territory now, so I tried to
change the subject---"But I'm so glad you've been
enjoying my work on your feet."
"Yeah," he replied, "and apparently you have, too."
I just sort of half-smiled, playing along. I thought
perhaps he was referring to my overzealousness at
doing his feet.
"Wh--what do you mean?"
"Well, I can see it, so I know you can feel it," he
said, nodding his head in the direction of my crotch.
I felt shocked, then looked down. Sure enough, there
was an intensely erect 6 1/2" cut cock pressing
against my white briefs and black dress pants. I
looked back at him.
I knew I should've been more careful keeping that
outta sight when I was moving his feet around and
doing different massages to 'em. I had been so caught
up in the sexuality of his feet, and so excited at my
first time with another man's feet that I did feel the
urges and hormones, but didn't stop to think where
they were showing up. I was also trying to think how
to do a good massage since I hadn't tried it before.
Earlier I had wanted to say so many things and had to
watch it---but now I was literally speechless. My
mouth was even half open, only with nothing coming
out. I just stared into his eyes. I used to think I
fantasized about this moment, but now I wasn't so
sure. My heart went into overtime.
"Smell my feet."
I didn't even question him, I just did it. Bent down,
stuck my nose under his toes, went all up and down his
sweaty stinkin' soles, and inhaled.
*SNIFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF*
I looked back up. He clearly had the upper hand now.
He then reached over his huge right foot and poked my
solid cock a couple of times with his heel. "Yeah, I
thought you'd like that. I tell ya Kevin, I was
gettin' some hints that you liked my big stinky feet,
but I had no idea you got into 'em this much."
"I--I'm sorry," I said, as I lowered my eyes out of
embarrassment.
"Sorry? What for, for bein' gay?"
"It's just that---I--I didn't mean to--"
"Hey, don't worry about it," Jeff assured me, as he
leaned his long right foot under my head and lifted it
up by pushing my chin up with his toes, forcing me to
look into his face.
"Really?", I eagerly asked, my chin resting on his
strong toes of his big foot.
"Really. Now pick up my socks." Ever so relieved, I
reached down to the floor and scooped up Bigfoot's
socks. The white socks with large yellow sweat
stains.
"Smell those, boy." Immediately, I shoved 'em into my
face, buried my nose in the warm, moist sweat stains,
and again inhaled...
*SNIFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF*
"You like that, don'tcha, Kevin?" Jeff said with a
slight smirk. I just nodded. "I thought it was
strange how you seemed so eager to do my feet, and you
called me 'Sir', and even stranger when the smell
didn't drive ya away. I knew somethin' had to be up
with you."
"Yes, I admit it," I stated as I subconsciously took
his enormous feet into my lap again once more, "I love
men's feet. I love men's big, sweaty, stinky feet."
I lowered my eyes again, for I felt embarrassed
admitting this to another man---supposedly straight,
at that.
"Lick my big sweaty feet", Jeff continued, as he
flexed his sweaty, stinkin' feet in my face. I lapped
out my tongue and bathed his enormous smelly feet from
heel to toe with my tongue. It took a full 10 minutes
to really suck up the sweat of his large, manly size
18 feet and drink it down my throat.
Jeff propped his huge feet back into my lap and
stretched his toes upward. "Now suck my stinky toes."
The ten long toes wiggled in my face, wafting their
masculine, raunchy odor up my waiting nose. I sucked
each toe like it was my first, each for at least a
minute. As an added subconscious bonus I licked up
the sweat from between his toes. I swallowed every
drop and loved it. For me, it was like nectar of the
gods. Hell, to me this guy *was* a god...and he also
really enjoyed the sensations I gave him.
When I was through making love to Jeff's big feet I
felt excited yet awkward. He said, "That's pretty
damn good...I think in the future you'll learn to be
proud of your fetish."
"In the future?"
"Yep. See Kevin, you're gonna be at my place a lot
more often."
"I--I am?", I inquired, followed by a gulp.
"Uh-huh. You're one hell of a foot boy. And do you
think I'm gonna let the only guy who can stand--even
*loves*--the smell of my feet just walk away? Uh-uh.
You're here to stay, boy."
"Wh--what do you mean...'stay', Sir?" (Damn, there's
that "Sir" again...)
He smiled at the title. "That's right, get used to
that, boy...I mean, you're gonna come live with me. I
could use a personal foot boy."
I started to get really nervous now. "B--but can't I
just---come over at nights when I can and massage and
do whatever to your feet?"
"See, that's just what I mean. When you 'can'. Nope.
When you move in here you'll be here *every* night,
so that's to our convenience."
"'Our'?"
"Yeah. I see the passion in your eyes and your hands
and your sniffs and your tongue---and your cock. You
want my big stinky feet night and day, Kevin. You
know you can't lie to me," Jeff declared as his
overgrown size 18 feet sat in my lap and he wiggled
his toes under my nose again.
I wanted to break down and cry. He was right. I
*did* want his feet every second of my life, and I
would do almost *any*thing to have them. He had me.
I had gotten myself into this situation and now I was
cornered---with no way out. It scared me, but it also
turned me on---man, that's wrong...
I heaved a huge sigh and looked him in his masterful
green eyes. "You're right, Sir. You're right. I
would do almost anything for your feet."
"Then you'll move in with me and be my foot boy?"
"God, I don't know, I--I--"
"Here, I'll make it easy for you. Let's say you don't
move in."
"Okay."
"Then I'll tell everyone at your store that you're gay
and make love to men's feet."
"What?! B--but--"
"Oh, then you *will* move in?" he asked, with a sly
grin. I could see now that he was the one in total
control here.
"Yes, Sir. I--I'll move in with you."
"That's a good foot boy." My new master could see
that I looked unsure of the deal. "Oh, don't worry,
I'm not gonna be a tyrant or anything. I only wanna
make sure that you're as close to me as you can be
when we're at home. That way when my feet *do* need
attention, they're sure to get it," he explained.
"Oh...okay," I said, taking this in. "I guess that's
not too bad..."
"Nah, you'll see. I've got a great place here--you're
gonna love it."
I hoped so. After all, I was now living in---my new
home. My new home with my new master, and his
enormous, sweat-soaked, stinky size 18 feet.
He was right. I *would* love it.
I had no choice.
