I looked up and was immediately met with the hottest sight right in front of my face: Mr. Cleveland’s feet. They were peachy-white, massive, and covered in sweat, gleaming with perfection. I began to approach his feet until my nose was inches away from his soles.

Suddenly he stirred “SNnnnnnHH” , a loud bellowing snore coming from him. I looked past his feet.

He was staring directly at me.

Eyes wide and with a confused look on his face, “Care to explain what you’re doing down there?”.

Now let me explain how I got here….

It was a typical Saturday morning; the sun was just beginning to peek over the horizon, casting a warm glow over my quiet suburban street. Inside my house, my father Mr. Cleveland, a middle-aged man with a rugged charm, was enjoying a well-deserved moment of relaxation. He was in his early 40s, graying hair, and had a pretty well-kept body.

Being right near my parents door I took the initiative to listen by the door and it seemed he had just finished a particularly rough session of lovemaking with my mother, Mrs. Cleveland. I knew they had sex from time to time but it was especially loud today.

I peeked around the corner and saw him propping his smelly feet on an ottoman in our living room, relishing the feeling of his aching muscles finally getting a break. I noticed that his eyes were closed and it seemed as if he was snoring slightly. This seemed like a good chance to try and get closer to his feet secretly. Now this could have been a bad idea in hindsight, but I don’t regret it anymore.

I approached the living room, tip toeing as to not alert Mr.Cleveland. I got more and more aroused the closer I got to his feet. He seemed to be snoring a bit louder now. Being a bit braver, I kneeled at his feet. They were perfect: high arches, glistening with sweat, and plump toes to match. I couldn't think of a more worshipable pair of feet.

Oh god, this felt so taboo but I couldn’t back out at this point. I decided to move my face until it was just an inch or two away from his soles.

A loud snore shook me out of my euphoric state “SNNnnnnnh”. I decided it was best to check if he was still asleep. I mean if he really was awake I could probably make an excuse that I tripped, or so I thought.

He was staring directly at me with a confused and curious look.

“Care to explain what you were doing down there son?”

I was shaking,  “Um…I-I-I was just looking for a pencil.”.

My answer caused him to smirk. Mr. Cleveland raised an eyebrow,  skeptical that I was that close to his feet for just a pencil.

“Son, are you lying to your old man?”

I nodded, my eyes never leaving my father's feet.

“Yes, Dad. I'm sorry, I just think I might be attracted to your feet. I know that it’s weird. I can't help it.”

Mr. Cleveland looked down at his feet, “You're telling me that you get turned on by my smelly, sweaty feet? Well, son, I guess there's no accounting for taste. But I have to say, this is a bit... unexpected.”

As he spoke, I decided it wasn’t worth hiding anymore and that I may never get this chance again. I inched closer to him, my eyes locked on his feet. Before he could react, I dug my nose in his toes and took a deep breath. Inhaling Mr.Cleveland’s sweaty soles. A sourish but musky scent entrapped my nose and I couldn’t help but salivate at the thought of being under his feet. A real man's feet.

“Well, if you're going to sniff my feet like a dog, you might as well make yourself useful, boy” he said, picking up a book from the nearby table. He smirked and wiggled his toes and gazed directly at me.

“Why don't you lick my dirty feet clean while I read, mutt?”

Was this real? I couldn’t believe his response. I immediately complied, my tongue darting out to lick the sweat from his jam filled toes. They were absolutely caked in sweat from his lovemaking but I found it to be more arousing. Licking a married man’s dirty feet was hot; My own father’s, even hotter.

Mr. Cleveland tried to focus on his book, but he couldn't help but feel a strange mixture of disgust and amusement at the sight of me worshiping his feet.

He chuckled, “Wow you’re really into this son, aren’t you?”.

I nodded and began to furiously lick them more.

As the minutes ticked by, Mr. Cleveland found himself growing more and more accustomed to his feet being licked by me. I was in heaven and this moment was absolutely dreamlike. I didn’t think this moment could get any better.

Suddenly, Mr. Cleveland lifted his foot, placing it firmly on my nose, and began to tell me a story from his past.

“You know, son, when I was younger, I used to work in an office. After a long day of meetings, I'd often come home with my dress socks covered in sweat and grime. I would prop my feet on the desk before heading out and noticed that there was always one intern staring at me. He was a bit light in the loafers so I assumed he had a crush on me. Quite a few people had a crush on your old man. One evening he came up to me and told me he couldn't resist the sight of my sweaty, filthy feet. He'd beg me to let him clean them for me, and I'd oblige, just to see the look of pure ecstasy on his face as he licked the dirt from my toes.”

I listened intently, my eyes wide with fascination. 'Did you... did you enjoy it, Dad?'

Mr. Cleveland shrugged, a sly grin spreading across his face. “I won't deny it son, there was something undeniably satisfying about having someone under my feet like that. It was a bit of a power trip, I suppose.”

As he spoke, Mr. Cleveland continued to wipe his feet on my tongue, enjoying the feeling of dominating his son with his powerful feet. He could see my eyes glazing over with pleasure, and he knew that he had found a new way to assert his authority over me.

Mr. Cleveland said, “You know, son, you're not much different from that intern at the office.”

He snapped his fingers to get my attention.

“You're just like a dog salivating for my feet. I don’t think the title of ‘son’ fits you anymore. Foot fag sounds much better don’t you think? You’ll be another faggot under my feet. Is that understood?”

I was taken aback. Did my father just degrade me? Foot fag? I never knew he even used those words. I didn’t think he had this commanding side to him but I didn’t want this moment to end.

“Yes, Dad. I'm your lowly foot fag. I'll do anything you want, as long as I can worship your feet.'

Mr. Cleveland heartily laughed at me in this pathetic state. “Well, in that case, I think I'll make you work for it. From now on, you'll lick my feet clean after my morning run every day. And if you're a good boy, I might even let you suck on my toes. Sound good boy?”

Before I could even agree he grabbed my head, forcing me to take his entire foot into my mouth, and began to thrust his toes in and out, using the boy's mouth as a makeshift footjob.

“Faggot, I don’t need to hear your answer. You will do as I say. I may be your father but I’m also your master, understood? What I say goes.”

I moaned with pleasure, my eyes rolling back in my head as I struggled to accommodate my father's massive foot.

Mr. Cleveland grinned, enjoying the sight of my submission.

“Thatta boy” he growled, his voice thick with lust. “Take my foot like the good little sissy you are.”

As he reached the peak of his pleasure, Mr. Cleveland pulled his foot from my mouth, a look of triumph on his face.

“You did well, boy,” he said, patting me on the head. “Now, go clean yourself up. We wouldn't want your mother to find out about our little secret, would we?”

I nodded, my face flushed with excitement and embarrassment. The moment of realization hit me, I was truly my dads foot boy.