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Last fall my best friend, who happens to be a female, asked me to stand up in her wedding. I readily agreed and was off to Nebraska to be one of her attendants.
Upon arrival, I met the wedding party at the rehearsal dinner. Now her fiancée, who was an x-football player, was also in a large fraternity in college . . . and all of his groom's men were beer guzzling, redneck frat boys who really didn't take a liking to a pretty boy from the city like myself. So I pretty much kept to myself and hung out with the girls until after the dinner. But after the rehearsal at the church, one of the guys announced that he was having a party back at his hotel room. So I went . . . .
The hotel room was really nice, it was a suite that had a separate bedroom from the living area/kitchen where everyone was partying and hanging out. A few hours into the "get together" I found myself wanting to search the bedroom for some used socks as I have a huge sock fetish. I snuck into the room, the coast was clear and there, and to my amazement I discovered a warm, fresh, moist pair of socks that Greg (one of the groom's men) had just removed from a long evening of formalities. I picked them up and rushed for the bathroom where I then held them to my face and sucked in every intoxicating aroma they held. They were awesome. I stole them from the room and went back to my own to enjoy them further.
The next morning we were all meeting in the lobby. The guys were going golfing and the gals were to spend the day running errands and such. A couple of the guys (Greg being one of them) asked if I wanted to go to the golf course with them. I was surprised at the offer and couldn't refuse after they had made the attempt. I accepted and went along with them. It was a grueling 18 holes and upon returning to the hotel, Greg and Mike had asked if I wanted to go back to their room for a couple of cocktails before we had to start getting ready. Again I accepted and readily went back up to their room, hoping to snake a pair of sweat socks that they had been golfing in all afternoon.
Little did I know, they were the ones with the plan . . . .
As we entered their suite, Greg slammed the door behind me and locked the door, saying that he had something that he wanted me to see. He scurried off to the bedroom and came out with a video tape. He and his girlfriend had taped themselves having sex in the bedroom after the rehearsal dinner and didn't shut the recorder off. In summary, he caught me entering his room, grabbing his dirty socks from his shoes, stuffing them into my pants and running for the bathroom.
I wanted to die.
Though I admittedly had a male foot fetish, I never wanted to be caught, and not by these guys! Greg picked up the telephone and phoned three of the other grooms' men and told them to come to the room. They were there within minutes.
Greg explained to the group of five, "What we have here fellas is a foot fag. He likes to sniff guys feet. I think that we should help him out, don't you?"
The entire group roared with delight. They were all about humiliation and putting a gay man at their feet. Greg taunted Mike, a six foot five inch thick man with large beefy feet. The three guys on the couch, Mike, Brad and Steve all leaned back and kicked their shoes off, taunting me with their toes. Greg looked at me and said, "Go get 'em boy. You wanted to smell some feet, well, here you go. There are six of them."
I said, "that is O.K., I will pass." Greg flew up behind me, grabbed me by the back of my hair and pulled my entire body by the nape of my neck to the floor in front of the three ex-football heroes.
"I said sniff 'em" he yelped, and pushed my face down on top of their sweaty socked feet. Brad's feet were directly in front of me (low cut tennis socks) which were wet but didn't smell all that horrible, and Steve's were encased in white socks that were dirty around the ankles from the grass stains on the course. But it was Mike's feet that were killing me. Mike had on some Hanes gray toe and heel sweat socks that appeared to be several years old and were sopping wet with sweat. Mike said, "I have had these in my golf bag all summer and haven't had time to wash them out. Give these bad boys a big sniff" as he thrust them into my face.
He just let his toes dance softly on the tip of my nose while the other two guys were cheering him on, "Make him sniff them out!"
Just then, Greg from behind said, "lick em clean boy. Show us what a good foot pig can do."
I took a quick lick of his socked toes and the taste of the salty sweat that I got could have caused a cardiac arrest. Mike added, "MORE! Fag. Lick em good and clean for your master!" And did the guys ever love it. It gave them such a power trip to order me around and degrade me in front of the others. I just obeyed and licked like the foot fag that I was. They passed me around the room for a while, making me lick their dirty socks clean, then taking them off to caress their bare feet with my tongue. When it came time to get ready for the wedding, they had me in the bathroom, one by one, making me wash their feet, their ass, and their balls. They were spitting on me, slapping me in the face and telling me that the night was young (I wish I knew what that meant...)
After the wedding and the reception, Greg (of course!) decided that he would throw another after party at his room. This time I wasn't asked to come however. Instead Mike came up to me, with Brad in tow, and whispered, "Greg want's you to go buy 3 cases of beer and be up at his room in 1/2 hour."
I did, praying that they wouldn't embarrass me in front of the entire wedding party . . . and especially my best friend who was the bride. When I walked in, the entire wedding party was there, including a couple of the guys' uncles that were staying the weekend. There were five men, whom I had never seen before (family of the groom) sitting on the couch with their feet up on the coffee table. Greg looked at me and said, "Look boy, my Uncle Dave brought you a little midnight snack." With that, his Uncle Dave (a very large bear type man) started wiggling his dress shoes on the table. Even though he had never spoken to me before, he says, "Help me off with these shoes, boy."
I was numb. All of the girls and guys from the party were sitting there watching this spectacle. "
"NOW!" Greg chimed in--reinforcing Uncle Dave's order.
So I went up to his uncle Dave, got down on my hands and knees and slowly pulled off his worn dress shoes--exposing worn cotton socks that had that depreciated net look to them. They too, like his nephew Greg's feet, were wet, musty and wide. "Rub them boy." So I started massaging his feet and, within seconds, the other four guys on the couch removed their shoes and I was smothered by the smell of sweaty man feet. It permeated the entire room. Again, they passed me on , from one to the next, forcing me to sniff their socks, massage their feet, suck on their toes . . . and then the "ugly" turned worse.
Greg thought that it would be great to have me at his feet while he fucked his girlfriend. So I followed the two of them into the bedroom. She began to blow him while he ordered me at his feet sputtering, "Don't stop licking those feet till I tell you otherwise boy." I obliged and did as I was told. I mean, why stop now? I had already been completely humiliated--how could it get any worse? Well, it did!
After Greg's orgasm he encouraged the other guys to give it a try and they all readily accepted his challenge. This went on until all that was left was his Uncle Dave and Brad. Uncle Dave, unfortunately was divorced and didn't have a girl to bring into the room and Brad was single for obvious reasons (he was a real big goof troop--big, bulky and dumb). When his Uncle Dave came in, he told Brad to come into the room too.
"Brad, why don't you give our boy a ride" Uncle Dave said as he shoved his all too familiar sweaty feet into my face again. Brad just kind of looked at him, dazed for a second, and started unzipping his pants. I begged and pleated with the two of them, but Greg's Uncle Dave was very persuasive. He said "Shut up and like it . . . it could get a lot worse."
And with that, Brad pushed my face down to Uncle Dave's feet and entered my body from behind. The pain was excruciating and the smell of his feet didn't help. Luckily Brad's endurance was very minimal. Within minutes I felt his back buck and he shot down my back. Meanwhile, Uncle Dave was still beating himself off. After seeing Brad go however, it didn't take him long and he yelped, "get up here boy!" and grabbed my head and forced it down onto his penis where he finally eventually shot the load down my throat. He hopped up and pushed me off the side of the bed and didn't acknowledge me at all. I ran out of the room and locked myself in the safety of my own room.
Now, come to find out, Uncle Dave lives in my hometown. He told me at check- out that he wanted my phone number and would be using my services often; he also informed me that he was friends with my father and sarcastically added, "I'd hate for him to find out how naughty you were this weekend."
Needless to say, Big Uncle Dave calls often, and I have spent several nights at his meaty feet as his foot servant. And from time to time I even get the honor of worshipping at Greg's feet when he comes to visit. I guess it is the least I can do for him after everything that he has done for me ?
