I was 20, 6’1”, brown hair with blue/green eyes and size 12 feet. Our relationship started off pretty normal, constantly texting messaging each other, sweet notes, fun dates… little did he know he was about to find himself spending the next 4 years of his life at my feet.

It all began one day after I returned home from a long day at work. I busted through the door and popped off my Nike Shox, tossing them beside the door. I threw myself down on the opposite side of the couch from him. “How was work?” he asked. “Long, I’m so exhausted.” I said as I lifted my legs on to the couch and planted my feet in his lap. “I’m sorry! You look worn out…” he placed one hand on my foot and stroked it gently. “That feels good.” I said with a smile “will you rub my feet?”. He had no idea that I had a foot fetish at this point, but I wasn’t about to pass up the opportunity to get him acquainted with being at my feet. “Sure baby.” He said as he began to massage my feet with both hands, kneading and stroking the length of my size 12s. He massaged my big socked feet for an hour or so, and that’s where it stopped for the time being.

The next night we repeated, but this time it wasn’t quite as subtle. After slipping my Nikes off at the door I sat down next time him on the couch, placing my feet in his lap. Before he even had the opportunity to ask about my day I spoke up “My dogs are killing me, why don’t you rub them for me?” He obliged, without a word he began rubbing my sweaty socked feet. We both talked about our day, all the while he massaged and tickled my feet, bending my toes back and forth, and squeezing harder, then softer… it felt great.

Over the next several days the transition happened, I no longer had to ask or demand, I simply walked through the door, kicked off my shoes and settled myself in to a night of relaxation while my feet were massaged and catered to… “This is the life.” I thought to myself… “but a foot massage isn’t enough.”

“Your feet stink!” he said as he pushed them away from his lap. “Aww… you can’t handle your own boyfriends smelly feet?” I said playfully as I started to move my foot closer to his face. “Come on, it’s just me babe, my foot sweat isn’t going to hurt you.” I said as he tried to combat the rank socked foot heading for his face. I connected, planting my big foot against his face and pushing him back against the couch… his fighting didn’t do much to stop me given our size difference. “Stop it!!! Asshole!!!” he cried as I mashed my smelly foot into his face, making sure his nose landed right under my long toes. “Smell my feet boy! Hahahaha.” I continued to fuck with him for about 10 minutes until finally letting him have his freedom. I firmly placed my dogs back in his lap and said “So, do you wanna rub ‘em or smell ‘em?” without a word he continued to massage my feet with a pissed off look on his face. “Good boy.” I said with a huge grin on my face, laughing to myself.

The nights passed and his service to my feet continued to expand… I no longer took off my own shoes, I simply kicked my Nikes up in his lap and relaxed. He would gently undo my shoestrings and slip off my hot, sweaty Shox exposing my damp feet. “Shooo wee, I can smell those babies from up here… you need to do the laundry, I’ve been wearing these socks for 4 days now.” I said as my manly foot stink filled the room. He cringed, my smelly feet were obviously bothering him. “Why don’t you take off my socks for a change? My bare feet need some attention.” He slipped off my socks exposing my beautiful size 12s… long, beefy toes with a little bit of hair on the tops of each toe, nicely cut toenails and smooth soles. “There you go, rub those big feet.” I said. The smell had clearly gotten stronger for him after removing my socks, his face continued to cringe and he hesitated to continue. “What are you waiting for? Rub my feet.” Still he hesitated, so I decided it was time for him to become familiar with his place under my feet. “Alright, you asked for this…” 

I pushed both of my sweaty bare feet into his face as he struggled, covering his entire face with my soles. “Come on baby, you know you like being under my feet… just admit it, my man stench turns you on!” He shuffled and pushed as I slid my sweaty soles up and down his face. “Knock it off! Stop!” he said. I pressed his head firmly against the couch holding him in position with one sweaty sole while I grabbed and clenched at his nose with the toes of my other foot. “Yeah, that’s right, smell those raunchy feet boy.” At that moment I heard him inhale deeply with a loud sniffing noise. My face lit up with pleasure, I knew he was submitting. “How’s it smell?” “Like feet.” He said. I laughed and rubbed my sweaty soles in his face for a minute or two longer. “Yeah, you like it.” I said as I slid them down his chest, resting them atop his hands. “Well, what are you waiting for? Rub my feet.” He returned to massaging my feet, but this time there was no conversation or eye contact.

Later that night we were getting ready for bed, I finished up my nightly routine, turned off the lights and slipped under the covers. He crept into the room and slowly began to pull back the covers. “Kiss my feet.” I said firmly. “W-What..?” He said. I could tell he was taken aback by the comment, but I didn’t waiver. “KISS MY FEET!” I demanded. “Baby, I don’t want to… I just want to go to bed…” He said as he slipped under the covers into position. I sprung up, flipped over to lay in the opposite direction and planted my feet in his face, “I said KISS MY FEET.” He struggled, pushing my feet and legs, pulling himself away, but it was pointless, I was stronger than him. “This is going to be a lot easier if you just kiss them… Don’t make this hard on yourself.” I said as I clenched his nose with my toes and prodded at his lips with the other foot. “JUST FUCKING KISS THEM!” he broke, he couldn’t resist any longer. 

One kiss. Two kisses. The kisses slowly progressed from a 1st grade peck on my large sole, then a bit more, his lips firmly planted on my sweaty flesh… and then the pecks became passionate French kisses. The once resistant 25 year old began passionately making love to my smelly, sweaty dogs. “Damn… that… that’s so good… keep kissing… kiss those big feet.” I exclaimed, vigorously rubbing my soles up and down his face like my own personal doormat. He kissed my feet for what seemed like an hour as a stroked my throbbing cock. “Good boy, just like a good little doggy at your master’s feet.” I said, chuckling. He pushed at my feet as though he was saying “Alright, I’ve had enough.” “Where do you think you’re going? You’re not done.” I said, I pressed my toes, now covered in his saliva, against his lips. “Suck my toes, bitch.” He moaned, and hesitated. I clenched his nose with my toes and force my toes into his mouth, thrusting my toes in and out of his mouth like a dick. Once again, he submitted to his superior, taking my large foot in both hands he gently massage my soles while he sucked and swirled his tongue around my long meaty toes. “Good boy, clean out all that toe jam! Hahaha!” He sucked my toes, licked in-between and cleaned my toenails with his slave tongue. 

“You’re doing such a good job cleaning between my toes, I think my soles could use a good licking.” This time there was no push back, no struggle. He stuck his tongue out and licked the length of my sole, gently kissing between licks. The sucked and nibbled on my heals and nuzzled my feet like a long lost loved one. “That’s right boy, get real familiar with the bottoms of my feet. You’ll be seeing them a lot! Haha.” Between the slurps and quiet moans came a “Yes sir.” And it was done.

The next day I returned from work, walking into the house to find him sitting on the couch watching television as he normally was. I plopped down on the couch, kicking my Shox into his lap. He reached to unlace them… “At at, no, I think my Shox need a good cleaning.” I said. “Where’s your cleaner and the rag?” He inquired. “You don’t need cleaner… use your tongue.” His face turned lobster red. “But…” he protested. “Start on the soles, they’ll be the dirtiest.” With that he slid to the floor, leaving my feet propped on the couch. He began lapping at my socks like a dog at his master’s feet. He cleaned the soles, the instep, the uppers, licked between the shox. “How’s that, Master?” I examined his work. 

“Good job boy! Now take off my shoes… I’ve got a special treat for you… and stay on the ground.” He gently unlaced my shoes and slipped them off. “Stick your face in the foot hole and take a deep breath.” He buried his face in my foot stench. “Good boy!” I patted him on the head with my foot. “Now, remove my socks with your teeth and stuff them in your mouth.” He slowly pulled my socks off, cramming the sweaty, rank fabric into his mouth. “Now, lay flat on your back at my feet.” He lay down before me, staring up at me between my legs. “Get comfortable” I said as I planted my wet, rank feet on his face, rubbing my soles back and forth. 

“I think I’m going to watch some TV, I’ll let you know if I need you to adjust to make me more comfortable.” I said chuckling to myself.

To be continued?