I worked on an aluminum press that was different than the others. It made a different type of part and the part was in higher demand which meant one thing for me: Mandatory Overtime. All of the other employees would work 4-5 days a week and I was almost always having to work EVERYDAY. I could not be in the building working alone which meant when I was there doing overtime, so was the night Foreman.

    His name was Dave and he was 45-50 years old with a young looking face and greying hair. He was a very good looking guy with what looked like a little bit of a beer belly but other than that he looked like the stereotypical good looking dad next door type. He would usually help me around the press so we could get the parts out quicker and leave earlier.

    Did I mention how hot it was in this foundry? We were given Gatorade and popsicles and told at meetings to hydrate and avoid skin irritation from sweaty clothes. But we were also forced to wear boots, pants, and long sleeve shirts for our own protection because the aluminum presses were dangerous.

    I felt like things were going really well during the first few weeks. I got a routine down. After work in the locker room some of the guys would shower because they smelled so bad from the sweat...I'd usually prefer to just head out since I had an old truck and didn't care to get it dirty.

    One night when it was just me and Dave, we both headed to the locker room after the shift. Dave was usually a shower after work type guy and had gotten undressed quickly and disappeared around the corner. Usually he locked his sweaty work clothes up in his locker during the shower but tonight he didn't. I guess he figured since it was just the two of us his stuff wouldn't get in the way. His locker was only five down from mine and he had left his sweaty work clothes out on the bench. Lying out on the bench next to me was a pair of sweaty looking gray boxer briefs, two pairs of white with gray toe sweat soaked/boot stained socks and a pair of old black boots that had been taken care of but were well worn.

    I couldn't resist. With Dave taking a shower it was the perfect opportunity to see what he smelled like. First I buried my face into the sweaty boxer briefs. The masculine scent of his ball sweat almost knocked me over. I wasn't sure if I loved it or if I wanted to throw up but my cock was rock hard. Loved the thought of sweat dripping down his balls in 117 degree temperatures. Next I pressed his wet, slimy, sweat-soaked, white Hanes socks against my face. I wasn't sure why he was wearing two pairs but that gave me 4 to sniff. They were so ripe from being trapped in those boots in the heat that they almost smelled sweet if they weren't so sour. Then I moved on to his boots. If the foundry wasn't so dirty, I would have licked his treads, but instead I pulled the tongue of the boot back and buried my face as far into it as I could go. I was in stinky feet heaven. I inhaled deeply and could not believe what I was doing. I stretched my tongue out as far as I could- wanting to taste the sweaty insole of my Foreman's boot when I heard, "What in the hell are you doing to my boot?" It was Dave. I was in trouble. I didn't want to look up from the boot.

    I didn't have anything to lose at this point so I told him the truth. I told him I had a fetish and that I liked the way his sweat smelled. That he was masculine and superior and that I would Worship him like a God if I could. He looked at me in disbelief and said "I'm not one of you gays. I don't understand why you would be attracted to a man. I really don't understand how you could enjoy the way I stink. That being said... I really don't want to fire you. If you get fired, I have to do your job and nobody else wants to operate your press. Plus, my feet really do hurt when I'm working all this overtime... That's why I have been wearing two pairs of socks."

    The both of us got really quiet for about two minutes. Then he said "sit right there on the floor and rub your new God's tired feet." I couldn't believe it. He was playing along. I did as I was told and said "yes Master." He told me "I haven't taken a shower yet. I was just taking a piss while you were sniffing my boots so sorry if they stink." I looked up at my new God and reassured him that the smell was more than great by spreading his toes and sniffing between them while I massaged. He told me "my wife hasn't rubbed my feet in years because she says they smell too bad from foundry work. I need this. They really hurt." I reassured him that foot rubs are now part of my job responsibilities and a perk of the job for him.

    His feet where pale and soft from years of double socks, with a small callous on the ball of the right foot. That callous reminded me how much this hard working blue collar straight man deserved a dedicated foot slave. The tops of his feet were nice with dark hair. Dark hair on his toes as well. He was enjoying the foot rub but his feet weren't sweaty anymore. I stuck my tongue between his toes and his eyes rolled back in his head as he said "good slave." That was my cue to worship.

To be continued