His name was Connor and he had been instructed to do anything I told him to do.  He was a handsome twenty-year-old with silky white-blond hair and piercing blue eyes. Beneath his size-too-small T-shirt was a sleek, muscular body and an impressive genital package.  He also had feet that were at least a size 13.

Connor was a present to me from my dad of all people.

He’s always trying to show that he supports me because of all the shit he gave me in the early days before he accepted the fact that I was gay.  You must understand that I was forced to come out to my dad by the school guidance counselor years ago in high school. When we left that bitch’s office My father refused to buy into the entire notion.  He told me that I was straight … that I just couldn’t possibly be gay because he wanted grandkids, and that the only reason I “acted” the way that I did is because my mother had babied me too much growing up.  So the idea that I was gay was never mentioned between us again for years.  And my mom didn’t know either back then.   Can you imagine how he would have reacted if I had also mentioned that I was into somnophilia (sleep sex) and had a foot fetish on top of everything else?

My brother had come out as trans when he was in middle school. She’s three years older than me (goes by she/her), and they supported her the whole time we all lived together, and they still support her. Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad that my sis had a safe home to come out to. I love her to death and want all the best for her. I’m just hurt that I didn’t get the same reaction.  I think my situation was different because I was the only son left and the only one who could provide my folks with a “true” son to carry on the name, you know?

Dad eventually saw that I was living a miserable, closeted life, and things began to change.   At He finally accepted that I was gay and felt very guilty that I had been barred from having the freedom to be myself for so long growing up.

And now that same man was sending me male prostitutes to service me on my birthday.  I never imagined days like these when I was a high school closet case!

"So how are you, Con?" I asked my 'slave' as we made our way into the den.

“I’m fine, Master.” He told me with a shy smile, he stood tall and straight, allowing me to inspect him with my eyes from head to toe.  All he wore was a T-shirt, jeans, sneakers and socks.  We made small talk for a minute or two. Then I ordered him to follow me into my den.

The steam-cleaned carpet was way more thicker in there and I preferred lying on it as opposed to the much thinner rug in the living room. I rubbed my hands together like an old-time movie villain and prepared to have my way with this beautiful gift.

"Uh … Master … you want to pretend to knock me out, or do you just want me to like faint and play dead?" He asked as if he were simply taking my order at Wendy’s.

"Just faint," I demanded. "Pretend someone slipped you some kind of knock-out drug and you’re succumbing to it."

He nodded, turned his back to me like an actor about to audition, spun back around to face me and…

“Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhh…!!!” he said, wobbling dizzily about.  “Ohhhh m-my head is spinning … what did you do to me??  You drugged me!!  Ohhhhh …. C-can’t keep my eyes open ….I-I I’m passing out!  I—”

“Am I going to have to REALLY knock you out?” I asked, trying not to laugh.  “Wrap up this performance, kid!”

He stumbled just as bit longer as if the world was whirling around him, then he made his big blue eyes roll up into his head and he collapsed ragdoll-like to the floor.

He was face-down, so I rolled him onto his back.  He was deadweight—playing unconscious for all he was worth.  I reached down and unlaced his sneakers then removed them. Seizing his ankles, I thrust both of the lad’s socked feet towards my face, moaning with pleasure as the fragrance of salty sweat wafted into my nostrils. Then I pulled the “sleeping” boy’s socks off and placed the soles of his size 13 bare feet on my cheeks. I just dug the feel of his cool, smooth soles resting on my cheeks. I kissed those soles for a good long while… I kissed each and every one of his beautiful toes. Just kissing the slumbering youth’s toes turned me on to the point where I had to direct my attention elsewhere or risk blowing my load in my pants right then and there.

I pulled off the limp boy’s T-shirt, and had just tugged down his jeans when his ticklishness caused him to move and made it seem as if he was about to regain consciousness. He even played this off pretty well.  He made himself seem very confused for a moment, but then his rolling eyes showed that he was still dealing with the effects of an imaginary knock-out drug.

While he moaned in pretend semi-consciousness, my mouth teased his skin, nipping, then licking, leaving a sparkling trail of wet. And I blew on that wet skin to watch the genuine chill bumps it created. I traced my fingertips ever so lightly overt the area around his guy-nipples, but still avoiding the nipples that were now stiff little bumps. My tongue traced the underside of his chin, and then I worked his way down his throat and stomach.

Though twitching with pleasure, he still writhed with frustration a bit because I detoured around his stiff man-nips, then felt an uncontrolled shudder as my tongue dipped into his belly-button. I laughed when he reached up to hold onto the headboard as I traveled down from his navel. I had to have a go at those beautiful feet again. I scooted down the bed to lift each beautiful foot and kiss the fragrant soles. I played my tongue around his toes, then licked up to his ankles. Connor was squirming now, seeing his tool dribbling precum and knowing that I had the power to make him “let it all blow” if I wished. I separated his legs, crawling up between them and then nibbling the delicate skin behind his knees. I all but attacked the lad’s inner thighs with kisses and rough bites, then finally began licking near his tool. Con groaned and bucked his hips, trying to get my tongue where he wanted it, but I wasn’t going to let him control this situation in any way.

After stripping myself naked I returned to his feet and just massaged them for a while. I caressed and massaged them so well that it wasn’t long at all before Connor was pretending he was dropping out of consciousness again.

“Ohhhhh………..!” He moaned, “I’m so dizzy …I can’t keep m-my eyes—”

“Connor…” I warned sternly.

Without another word, the boy closed his eyes and went ragdoll limp.

I took hold of the boy’s heels and raised the sleeping lad’s bare feet high towards my face. I stuck out my tongue and slid it along the underside of his toes, from the pinky to the big captain. Forcing my tongue against the crevice where the toe joins the foot, I danced my tongue along the underside a second time. Connor didn’t have very long toes, but they were long enough … and they smelled just enough and had pristine, clear toenails. I used my tongue to trace one of those pristine clear toenails--the nail of his pinky toe, running down along the side, along the bottom, up the other side, and across the tip, which was cut straight and just back from the tip of his toe. I created a wedge and forced my warm, wet tongue between his smallest and next largest toe and wiggled it madly in between them.

It was when he pretended to regain consciousness I started nibbling at his ankles. Laughter began welling up inside of Connor as I got closer and closer to his sensitive, beautiful soles. I would tongue torture Connor Philban’s sensitive soles until he pretended to pass out yet again.

I would then carry his limp, flopping ragdoll body to bed, tuck him in and spend the next hour or so just gently kissing his feet, toe-by-toe.  His exaggerated fake snores would eventually turn into real ones.