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I’m currently living in South America, on assignment for my company, and am a die-hard foot-fancier that recently hit the jackpot. This story’s so hot, I wanted to share it with you all.
The area in the capital city where I live in has a lot of expatriates, and there are several upscale bars, pubs, and restaurants that fill up after six P.M., the end of the local workday. While I speak fluent Spanish and usually prefer to socialize with my friends who are all from here, sometimes I really need to hear English, so I’ll hit one of those establishments for a drink and some conversation.
It was at such a place where I recently met the guy who really blew me away, and satisfied my foot fantasies like nobody else has been able to.
I had been sitting at the bar for only about 15 minutes. My “liquid courage” hadn’t kicked in yet, so honestly I wasn’t being terribly social. The place was filling up fast, mostly with groups of three of four, so the place was already humming with conversation. There was a lot of English, German, and Spanish mixing together along with the plentiful cigarette smoke.
Since I was sitting near the window, which looked out onto the main street, I saw him well before he entered the pub.
Keep in mind, the country where I live isn’t known for terribly tall or fair-haired people…at 5’11” and with light brown hair, I’m considered both blonde and tall!
So, this 6’4”, blonde, slim hottie in a nice business suit caught my eye immediately. With his height, hair color, prominent Adam’s apple and flattop, he looked like a college basketball player. However, I knew he wasn’t American—definitely European. And as my eyes quickly traveled down, my breath caught silently in my throat. He was wearing very expensive black leather wingtips—and they must have been a size 14 at least!
I felt my jaws clench as he breezed in the door and made his way up to the bar. I thought for sure he’d somehow have some flaw visible up close—he couldn’t possibly be that good-looking.
No dice.
He ended up standing at the bar, an arm’s reach from me, and I casually tried to check him out. Keep in mind, this was not a gay establishment, so I thought that certainly he was straight. I mean, I just don’t have that kind of luck. He was truly an eyeful...baby-soft, straight blond hair in a perfect crewcut, high cheekbones and flawless skin, and, of course, sky-blue eyes. In whatever country he was from, he’d be a catch; here in South America he was a god!
I heard him order a Heineken in heavily-accented Spanish. My cocktail was finally having its desired effect, so I mustered all the courage I had, casually looked over at him, and said “Are you Dutch, by any chance?”
He looked back with a pleasant, confident smile. “Why, yes I am. How did you know?” His English was only slightly lilted.
I responded “Well, you don’t exactly look like the locals…and the Heineken gave you away!”
He gave an appreciative laugh, and we started a nice conversation. His name was Johan, he was from Amsterdam, 29 and working for a Dutch bank. Outwardly, I looked completely at ease; inside, I was literally losing my mind. This guy not only was white-hot, but completely laid-back and friendly. It didn’t escape my notice that he wasn’t wearing a wedding ring—all though we all know that that means nothing.
I had to wait until he turned to order his second beer to sneak a glance down at his feet. I felt my jaws clench again. Good God, his feet were HUGE—even for someone his height.
The alcohol in my system made me make a decision that I probably wouldn’t have otherwise.
I HAD to go for it…I would kick myself eternally if I didn’t at least try to get him back to my place. I wanted his cock in me, and I wanted to work those huge Dutch feet over like a maniac. I could tell by slyly checking out his perfect hands that his feet were equally beautiful.
The problem—I had no idea if he was gay or not! He could have been cruising me, or just having an innocent conversation. All I knew at that point was that he was single and lived alone. Well, I thought, here goes…
“ This place is getting kind of noisy and smoky. I think I’ll go have a drink and watch some TV at my place, which is just two blocks away.” Overdoing the “cool” act, I paused and casually added “You’re welcome to come over, if you’d like”. Every muscle in my body tensed as I waited for the response.
His baby-blues looked right into mine, and he answered “Sure…that would be nice. Thanks.”
Oh my God! This was really happening. I had to control myself. Just because he accepted didn’t mean he was sexually interested in me. I had to be a perfect gentleman…until it was time to not be a gentleman.
As we walked, I really noticed our height differential. He towered over me…and I loved it! Pretending to look down at the pavement, I fixated again on his feet. I fantasized about burying my face in the soles of those socks that had doubtlessly been on his feet all day.
He talked, but I admit I wasn’t listening. My cock stiffened as I imagined just how his huge feet would look, smell…and taste. By the time we reached my building, I had a raging erection.
I offered him another beer (thankfully I kept Heineken on hand, even though I don’t drink beer), then casually mentioned that I preferred to watch TV in the bedroom.
Again, all my muscles tensed. This was going to be the real test. No straight guy would voluntarily hang out in the bedroom of another guy he had just met.
“ OK”, he said. He went right to the master bedroom, draped his jacket over a chair, and began loosening his tie. My heart was racing. This could simply NOT be happening! Only two hours earlier I had first laid eyes on this beautiful man, and now he was voluntarily undressing in my bedroom!
My heart almost stopped altogether with his next question.
“ Do you mind if I take off my shoes? They’re new, I’ve had them on all day, and they’re starting to hurt”.
Still holding his beer, I watched in stunned silence as he unlaced and slipped off his huge wingtips.
“ Ahhh…God, that feels better! Thanks! I hope my feet don’t smell” he said, slowly massaging his giant feet through his new black socks.
“ Ah, no…it’s OK” I stammered. “Here’s your beer”.
Nonchalantly he slid back on my bed, bunching two pillows up behind his head. He took a big swig of his Heineken, and looked at me.
I must have stood there in silence for 30 seconds, just trying to grasp what was stretched out on my bed. While his feet in fact did not smell, a warm, musky, new-leather-shoe odor slowly filled the room. I felt dizzy—and knew that I had to act.
“ I’m pretty good at foot massages”, I felt myself saying. “If you want…”
“ OK, yeah, that would be hot”, he responded.
Hot! That was sex talk. He WAS gay! And I knew that the evening was just beginning.
I knelt on the floor at the foot of my bed, until his giant feet were at face level. I felt their slowly-cooling warmth, and smelled their musky odor. Even though his socks were still on, I could tell by their shape that they were incredible.
Using both hands, I began a strong, slow massage of his right foot, starting with the toes. He rolled his head back and closed his eyes. “Ooooohhh yeahhhhhhh…” he hissed.
By the time I got to the middle of his right foot, I couldn’t take it any longer. I reached up his calf, and smoothly began slipping off his sock. I could tell by the smile on his face that he didn’t mind at all.
And there it was. The gargantuan Dutch foot, bare, eight inches from my face. I had been correct. It was flawless, with a ruddy, baby-like soft pink sole and white top and long toes, with each nail carefully trimmed. I reached out and touched it, and it was cool and slightly moist. In one swift motion, I pulled off the other one. Then I had both bare feet in my face.
“ Oh God” escaped my lips before I could stop it. My mouth was literally watering. I could no longer help myself—I reached down and unzipped my fly, and pulled out my rock-hard cock, and began stroking it.
I slowly fell forward until my face was buried in the sole of his foot. I inhaled as slowly and deeply as I could, savoring the faint, pungent odor of new leather and perspiration. He gently moved his toes, and began rubbing his sole over my face, loving the scraping of my five o’clock shadow on his tender skin. We said nothing; nothing needed to be said. When I finished with the right, I began feasting on his left, jamming my stiff tongue between each of his toes, tonguing the tiny bit of sock fibers hiding there.
I was so lost in ecstasy that I hadn’t noticed that he had unzipped his own pants, and was vigorously jacking his cock. I finally looked up, and it was enormous—at least 9 full inches of pink, uncircumsized perfection.
The next minute or so was a blur. We each tore off our own clothes, and in no time he had me doggy-style at the foot of my bed. His breath was hot and fast on my back. I was nearly out of my mind with excitement…I already had the delicious taste of this man’s feet in my mouth; now I wanted him deep inside me. And it was obvious that I was going to get it. His huge, straight, stiff cock was resting on my lower back.
“ Do you want me in you? Do you want to get fucked?” he panted. “Fuck yeah!” I gasped.
Not even allowing me to reach for lube, I heard him spit heavily into his hand, dab some on the head of his cock, and the rest he massaged onto my anus. Oh God, he was going to fuck me with that huge cock, and only with spit as lube!
I couldn’t reach my poppers, but grabbed one of his socks lying on the floor, pressed it against my nose and mouth, and inhaled desperately. Again, the man-musk filled my head.
I felt the plum-sized head of his penis press against my hungry pucker. He was a heavy precummer—which I love—so the head slipped inside pretty easily. He pressed and pressed—and his giant cock began sliding into me. I had turned his dress sock inside-out and was licking, sucking, and sniffing it as he continued his relentless penetration. Again, I was on the verge of unconsciousness. I had this beautiful man in both ends of me.
Johan groaned as the last inch of his cock entered me. I felt my anus stretched to the limit, and I was full inside. And I loved it!
Within a minute, he was pumping me pretty hard, withdrawing about halfway and plunging back in. He finally flipped me over and slipped a pillow under my ass, fucking me with my ankles on his shoulders. I just stared in disbelief at this gorgeous man, jamming his big cock into me. He grinned a naughty grin as he watched me take yet another whiff from his black sock.
The overwhelming hotness of the scene was making quick work of both of us. I was seconds from shooting, and I could tell by his heaving breathing and ascended testicles that he was just as close.
Just as I thought our encounter couldn’t get any hotter, he surprised me again.
“ Ohhh shit…ohhhh shit! I’m coming!” He gasped.
With one smooth movement, he pulled his cock out of my ass, and cupped his left hand under the head, and furiously jerked it with his right. I watched between my legs and a huge cumload began splashing into his hand. To my amazement, he filled his cupped hand up completely.
But what was he going to do with the cum?
He looked at me with an evil grin, and lied back on the bed, being careful not to spill his beautiful sperm.
I watched as he brought his right foot up, and slapped his handful of semen onto his sole. As if it were lotion, he massaged it vigorously all over his sole, and between his toes, until his whole huge foot was shiny and wet.
He looked at me. “Lick it off. Lick all that cum off my foot. Do it now!”
I had often fantasized about doing just that, but never in a million years would have believed that another guy would also be into it, and do it without any coaching.
I grabbed his cum-slicked foot and hungrily began licking his sole. Oh God, feet and cum together…I was beyond words. I gave my own cock two or three jerks, and began spraying a huge load of cum drops across my bedspread
Johan watched my work carefully, occasionally smearing it across my face, to let me know who was boss.
Finally, I had licked all the tangy semen from his foot, and my mouth was tingling. My ass was ecstatic.
The moment was over. He had come (and I had eaten it), I had come…we were both spent and happy. Johan took a quick shower, left me his business card, dressed, and left. I must have spent a half-hour, just laying on my bed after he left, enjoying my throbbing ass, and the sticky-sweet cum/foot-smell smeared all over my face. With any luck, I’d hook up with Johan again.
And I did.
