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His dad was known for two things: his big ass and, BbbBbbPffrrr, his bigger farts. He could clear a room and would do it often for his convenience. Bbbffrrrrr He’d butt blast to clear a cue, empty his place of work an hour before closing, and even win an argument, but the worst “dad-bombs” were at the gym when his protein shake hit.

His dad would insist he go to the gym with him. Most likely, because he enjoyed gassing his son into a gagging, crying mess, and he couldn’t refuse his dad. If he did the post-workout swamp-ass face-farts would be worse. So he endured the pain.

BBbfpfppfttt The first fart sounded as they entered the gym. Those who knew ran, while those who didn't looked around confused only to later have their senses assaulted.

One of the naive few was a hunky guy who was checking out the son the moment he entered. Noticing this, he got away from his dad to flirt, but only after a few words were exchanged they were interrupted.

"Ass coming through," said his dad as he pushed both him and the hunk aside so he could sit on the bench. The hunk looked as if he was about to say something, but when he saw the huge, protruding ass pointing at him and heard/smelled the awful bellowing farts, BFpfpfptttt-PFpppfttt, he began gagging and ran. "If you're not man enough for my gas," BBBFBpfpfpfpf "then you aren't man enough for my son." BBPFpfpfpfpf.

He was so furious with his dad that he spent the rest of the day fueling up on gassy food for his revenge. When he could no longer hold it in, he found his dad lounging in his chair, shoved his dad's face in his jock ass, and Ppspfpfp let a fart rip in his dad's face. "That's for humiliating me earlier." PPssppspfpf

At first his dad didn't move, but then he felt his dad take a deep whiff of his son's farts and then started laughing. With a quick smack and grab on his ass, he was thrown over and placed under his dad's giant ass.

Jack’s Army Feet

My parents, though really my dad, made me join the army a few months ago to try and give some direction in my life, and, as my dad put it, “make a man out of me.” The life drained out of my face when they first told me they submitted an application and went through the process all on their own. What the fuck did they mean I was going to join the fucking army? I was a skinny guy who mostly just liked playing video games and jerking off to porn occasionally. Over the past few years I’d come to terms with likely being gay; though honestly, I often didn’t picture any guys when I got off. More so what attracted me than looks was dependability, maturity, and strength. And while women could have all these traits, there was something about envisioning them in a guy that made me feel more warm inside. I felt more secure. I would often jerk off more to the idea of living a life with a man who made me feel secure and a life where we could both rely on each other than necessarily thinking about his cock or ass… so that was still to be explored.

But now with this new development, it felt like really coming to understand myself better would be halted. I practically had a meltdown that night and the only thing that calmed me down was when they told me it could be a few months before they had me physically live on the base. Though that reassurance was cheap, it was enough to stop me from continuing to have a nervous break down. I spent the rest of those months trying to enjoy my freedom as much as I could and researching what the fuck they’d gotten me into.

The time between joining and moving in here passed in the blink of an eye and having been here for a few months now, I was pleasantly surprised to find my research proved correct. It seemed nowadays joining the army was much less like the movies with all that ridiculous living in a shed with 40 people and constantly doing insane training montages. They still had us working out, and they still tried to break us down and mold us into these obedient machines. But, we at least got our own rooms… mostly. Instead of living in a giant shed with 40 people, we basically lived in studio apartments with a roommate. Unfortunately, my roommate, Jack, was a little bit of an ass. But another bonus was we did have a lot more freedom than I expected. Although I couldn’t spend my free time in my room because I tried avoid Jack, I at least kept my laptop on the base with me and would take it to a local library where I’d play my computer games in my downtime.

That was what I planned to do this evening; however, my base had other plans. They enacted a curfew after a few of the guys got a little too drunk and up to no good. The person enforcing that regulation made it clear they were planning to keep it that way for at least a few weeks.

“Fuck.” I muttered under my breath as I walked back to my room. I was dreading having to actually exist in the same space as Jack for any longer than necessary. He was basically the exact opposite of the type of guy’s I fantasized about. He was immature, unserious, unreliable, and unpredictable. There was basically a line across our room where you saw whose space was where. And my space was constantly gradually decreasing because Jack persisted in leaving his clothes unwashed. They occasionally did room checks and while Jack always failed and would get yelled at, they would rope me into it for some reason. They’d say that I should be more supportive and help him as if he was a fucking child. Wasn’t the whole reason I was thrown into this because my parents believed I needed to be whipped into shape? Why was it now my job to either whip someone else into shape or baby them?

In spite of myself, every month we had a room check, and for the three months I’d been here now, every single time I cleaned up the entire room. And every single time, without fail, Jack would make some snide remark about being a “good little bitch” or how he was “so glad I realized my duty here.” It infuriated me to no end.

Despite his horrible organization, Jack was fit and strong. He was readily at the top of the class in terms of training, and so it really seemed like they favored him and overlooked his faults for that reason. Whereas I was left to pick up after him because I was the inverse: maintaining everything orderly, but struggling to do any physical labor.

I sighed as I entered the room and already saw Jack lying on his bed, picking between his toes as he scrolled on his phone. “‘Sup Quent. This fucking sucks, right? I could be out hooking up with a chick in a bar and instead I have to be stuck here doing fuck all.”

I rolled my eyes as I sat down at my desk and opened my computer, getting ready to pull up a game. “Yeah, terrible.” I feigned sympathetically. I scrolled through my library trying to zone Jack out when I felt his hands grab my shoulders and spin me around.

“Cooooooooome oooooooon. We have to do something together. You can’t let me just rot here alone.” Jack whined, which I was gathering he was real good at and probably did often back at home. However, he wasn’t fooling me. He was an asshole. He constantly left work for me to do, he’d be degrading when I was forced to do it, and I’ve seen the way he’s talked about the women he dates like they’re objects and dispensable. Jack was, for better or worse, undeniably an attractive guy. Again, not really one to care about looks, it didn’t affect me much. But he had women drooling to be with him, and he was constantly making them do shit for him. Needless to stay, I did not want to be the continued victim of being used for his needs any more than this place forced.

“I’d really rather just play a game.” I asserted as forcefully as I could.

“Then let’s play something together,” Jack pleaded. “You know I’ve told you I have a PS5 back home. I’m just waiting to buy a TV so I can use it.”

“They make us work. We’ve gotten paid for that. It may not be much since we have free housing and food, but it’s been at least enough for a TV,” I argued, trying to turn my chair back around.

Jack gripped the arm rest and held it down, though, spitting, “We’re gonna fucking do something. I don’t give a shit if it’s a game. I tried to be nice, but I’m not a fucking pansy. I’ll take what I want if I have to.” Suddenly his arm was around my neck and he threw me to the ground.

“Ow!” I shouted on my knees, crawling away from him a little before turning around. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Having some fun!” Jack exclaimed as if that clarified anything. His arms were outstretched and as I maneuvered around on the ground trying to get back to my laptop, he mimicked the direction I went and cut me off from it. Suddenly he was on the ground on top of me. I tried to crawl backwards to get away, but Jack was faster and grabbed my arms, pinning me down.

“Jack, stop!” I whisper-yelled, trying not to make too much noise as I struggled to break free. It was clear, however, that his dominant strength was winning out. I was simply too much smaller and weaker than he was.

“What? Come on, just think of this as more training! You gotta be able to get out from underneath me. What happens if you get into a fight and are pinned down? You just gonna let them fuckin’ beat the shit out of you and kill you?”

“What are you talking about?” I bit back, growing increasingly frustrated the longer I was underneath him. “I’m not gonna get into a fight with anyone! I’m not an asshole like you!”

“Really?! ‘Cause your nice ‘ol roommate just tried to play a game with you and you certainly seemed like an asshole then!” “Nice!?” I preposterously shouted, “you’re the furthest fucking thing from nice! Now get off… of… me!” My body wriggled and I could feel it start to loosen from underneath his grip. I didn’t give a shit if I’d get yelled at, I was leaving this damn room!

“Fine, you want mean Jack? You want me to be a bully? I’ll show you what that looks like pansy!” Just as I was beginning to slip from underneath him, Jack readjusted. His feet went between my legs, stretching over them so his knees were just below my waist, weighing down my own legs. Then, he unexpectedly let go of one of my arms. However, it was for a split second, and I was too caught off guard by the change to take advantage of it. Within a second, he descended on me, his sleeve riding up his arm until his pit was exposed. Before I could tell what was happening my face was in his armpit. “Come on, faggot, take a big ‘ol whiff!”

“Mmmmueeghh” I groaned beneath Jack. I could feel the sweat that had built up smearing against my face and dripping into my mouth as I cried out. I fought back vigorously. However, the edge I had earlier had been lost, and I was struggling to budge an inch. Worn out and tired, and with my mouth firmly pressed inside of his put, I had no choice but to take sharp inhales of stench.

“Thaaaaaat’s it. Stop trying to fight it, bitch boy. How does it fucking smell in there?”

With my mouth unable to open, the best I could muster in response was a muffled, “Shmmmminnn.” My response inadvertently forced me to fully exhale. Between the lightheadedness from exerting myself and from the scent of his disgusting pits, I was feeling weak and helpless. All I could do was keep breathing in the acidic scent.

My head spun in circles as I desperately clung to consciousness. My breathing had hiked before sharply slowing down as my vision tunneled. Finally, I felt the pressure from Jack’s body pinning me down lighten as he rose up.

“Come on, man, I’m giving you a chance now.” Jack laughed to himself, rising from the ground. “You can get up and try to take me down now.” He partially squatted and patted his thighs, taunting me. “Come on, you gotta get me, otherwise it’ll be tooooo easy for me to keep winning, and there’s noooo way I’d want that.” His shit eating grin gave away his true feelings, he had something more planned, especially if I couldn’t get up.

I groaned in pain from my spinning head and tried to move my body but couldn’t. All I could do was tightly shut my eyes.

“Oh boy, you’re running out of time,” Jack continued as I heard his foot steps re-approach me.

“Jack…” I tried to muffle out, feeling a disconnect between my brain and the rest of my body.

“Ah, ah, ah, you gotta get up and take me down.” I could hear additional movement as Jack continued to move around. “Come on, just gotta put up a little bit of a fight, man. You can do that, right?” I willed my body to move, to at least maneuver my head, but still nothing happened. Finally I opened my eyes and as the world slowly kaleidoscoped into focus, I saw a tall pink mountain slowly descend upon my face.

“Since you loved my pits so much, I have another treat for you,” Jack could barely stifle his own laughter. “But only if you can’t find it in yourself to move. Otherwise, you must want me to pin that little face of yours under my feet, riiiight?”

With my world now focused I began to catch that rancid scent of his bare foot. Compared to his pit it was lot more cheesy and foul than a burning acidic scent. That’s right… training earlier had involved a lot of running. Fuck… I… I needed to move. I willed my head to move, to the left, to the right. Anywhere, I needed to do anything to avoid this. I felt the atmosphere of his foot, as if the sweat from it somehow hung in the space around his foot, engulf my face. My eyes rolled to the back and somewhere deep inside me I knew movement had become impossible by that point, even as my mind desperately screamed to move.

As the slick sweat finally pressed into my face, I no longer wanted to fight against my consciousness. I wanted that darkness to take over and relieve me from this… But pray as I might now for unconsciousness to take me, somehow it was now escaping. Powerless and weak, I lied on the floor as Jack smeared his disgusting, wet, dank foot across my face. “Haha, that’s right, faggot.” Jack taunted, “That’s what a real man smells like. I know your pansy ass wouldn’t know shit about that, but take it fucking in. Enjoy it. This is as close to being a man as you’ll ever fucking be, just breathing in my ripe ass feet.”

His words swam in my head as it pounded against the raw, cheesy stink. What the fuck was he talking about? His foot sweat was a sign he was a real man? There’s no way that was true… I don’t know why but him saying that tugged at something in my brain.

In trying to understand my sexuality, I always found myself drawn to composed, strong men. Dependable, reliable. Hardworking. This is what I envisioned “true men” being, I suppose. And Jack was strong and maybe hardworking at the gym, but he was so vastly different than what I ever imagined a “true man” to be. But… if they were hardworking, I suppose they might get a little sweaty, would that mean their feet stink… like this? Why did that even matter? That’s the part I couldn’t understand or shake. Even if there was some logic that could make that make sense, why the hell was it so stuck in my head. This is what a real man smells like, that phrase just bounced around endlessly. 

At some point, Jack lifted his dank foot from my face, and grinned down at me. “So what is gonna happen next is that I’m gonna play some shit on your computer and you’re gonna be a good, quiet little fag and let me, got it?” Still overwhelmed by everything that happened, I couldn’t bring myself to answer. This only seemed to please Jack, however, perhaps content with his ability to break me down. “I’ll take your silence as obedience,” he said standing up, “That’s a good faggot. See how easy it is when you just do what I say?” He tapped my face one last time with his bare foot before turning around and sitting at my desk.

I could hear him messing around with the computer before I heard the familiar sound of one of the games starting up. As he got comfortable, I slowly brought my mind back into focus and finally found the strength to move. Groaning, I crawled to my knees before wobbling on my feet and walked out of the room. I ambled to a bathroom and sat down in one of the stalls, cupping my face in my hands as I tried to process what the fuck just happened. As I sat there, I could still pick up faint traces of his foot stink clinging to my face, lightly spinning my head. Exhausted I went back to my room and crawled into bed, covering my head with a blanket until I fell asleep. The entire time, continuing to breath in the foot stench that clung to my face as his words replayed in my head.

-

The next few days I did everything I could to avoid Jack. I just let him have free rein of my computer because I did not want to fight him again. I was constantly on edge, expecting him to do something similar despite my obedience. He’d be sitting at my desk, angrily tapping his feet as he struggled in one of the games, and with every tap a vivid image of him forcing me underneath the desk and instead tapping his foot against my face would flash across my mind. It made me deeply uncomfortable on the surface level simply because it was a disgusting and mean thing to do, but also because his words felt burned into my mind. That was the smell of a real man. For some reason that thought wouldn’t get out of my head. 

It didn’t help either as the days passed and we continued to engage in rigorous training, one night I felt this gnawing curiosity that I tried to resist as much as I could. But after Jack left to take a shower, I couldn’t resist it any longer. I grabbed my own shoes and tried to smell them. Whatever I was thinking was clearly flawed, but I think I was figuring that if my feet smelled like his then it would disprove whatever he tried to assert— that I was as much a man as him. I’d never paid much attention to the smell of my own feet, I suppose because it was simply something I never thought would be relevant, but now it seemed that perhaps there was another reason. After trying to taking a light whiff I found that there was very little scent at all. Despite us doing the same training, the same workouts, there was something about his feet that made them reek like that. Because he’s a real man. That thought forced its way into my psyche and suddenly I felt another scratching urge.

I glanced over at the door. It had only been a few minutes… I quietly snuck over to his bed, as if I was trying to hide from someone not even here. Letting go of all inhibition I pulled the trigger, quickly grabbing a boot of his and raising it to my face. Immediately I was met by the same pungent stench that had engulfed me just a few days prior. Shaking, I continued to hold the boot at my face as I took deeper and deeper inhales. This is a real man’s smell? Jack is a real man? I… I don’t know what I want, but I thought I might want a real man… That would mean I want Jack? That’s not possible… Is it?

I heard some footsteps outside and quickly dropped the boot and ran back to my bed. After a minute, Jack walked into the room. Right as he did, I noticed the straining sensation in my pants and quickly threw my blanket over my hard on, praying he didn’t notice. As I looked back up, I saw Jack staring at his phone as he sauntered over to his bed. As soon as he walked past me, I got up and grabbed my own toiletries and clothes and went to take a cold shower myself. My face was burning red as I went out the door.

-

As more and more days passed until about two weeks since the incident with Jack, I still couldn’t take my mind off the experience. I noticed that I started paying attention to the feet of other guys in our unit, especially those who seemed more mature, and wondering whether their feet reeked like Jack’s. They must, I absentmindedly thought that day, I mean, there’s no way Keith and Darius aren’t real men being as dependable as they are, so their feet must reek too after all this training. As these thoughts sifted through my mind, I felt more and more out of place. I really did feel like a boy amongst men. Jack had so easily overpowered me that day, and there was no doubt in my mind that any of these other guys could do the same. At the same time, it felt easier and easier to see Jack as what I had thought a “real man” was. 

Once we were back in our rooms, I tried to busy myself on my phone and reading a book for most of the day. At some point Jack left the room, and perhaps it was due to these salient thoughts that after a while I made my way to my laptop. Jack hadn’t been as interested in it today, so I booted it up and found myself typing out the thoughts that have been eating away at my mind for the last two weeks. “Do real men’s feet stink?” It felt a little silly googling this question, but nevertheless I hit enter and was met by some unexpected search results.

The first few were about what I expected without really answering the question: a reddit page on someone asking why their feet stink so much and how to solve that, a quora thread on someone asking for help with their husband’s smelly feet. It wasn’t until I scrolled down that I got different results. On what appeared to be a gay porn website it had the title “Twink worships alpha males feet,” then below that was another link to a different gay porn site with the video title of “time to serve a real man faggot.”

Gradually, my heart started to speed up as I read through these titles. I felt a lump in my throat as I click the link to the second website. I turned down the volume and played the video. After a few seconds it cut to a POV from on the ground as a guy stretched his feet toward the camera. He started talking very confidently with a strong, deep voice praising the viewer for being a good “fag” for knowing their place. This man stretched and flexed his toes in the frame as he continued on about how real men deserve to have weak, pretty little boys on the ground beneath them. He said how faggots were inherently weaker and needed a strong man to take control, to assert their power; and how naturally a fag found solace in giving himself up to a real man.

I knew he was talking to the camera and not anybody in specific, but it felt like he was talking to me. Something about the tone of his voice and his words felt like he saying them specifically to me. And his words sounded just like Jack’s.

Suddenly I heard footsteps at the door and I swiftly closed my laptop, cutting the sound. Jack then walked in, hair dampened and sweat glistening on his arms and face. He walked over to his bed and grabbed a towel to wipe off his face before lying on his bed. I could hear him groan, seemingly out of exhaustion as he left the towel lying over his face.

As Jack lied there, my eyes slid down until they rested on his boots. Inside were the sure-to-be-sweaty assailants from the previous week. Taking quiet but deep breaths, I could faintly smell some of his stench from here. I quickly turned around and buried my face in a hand. What the hell do I care about his feet for? How does that make him a man? Despite these questions, the words of the faceless man in the video echoed in my head, telling me that I was a faggot, that Jack was a real man, and that I was meant to serve a real man like him. Abruptly, I stood up and walked out of the room to take a shower and cool off.

While I was in the shower, I tried let the cool water calm me down and I tried to think through things rationally. I hated that something was going on with me, but clearly something was. The words I’d heard from Jack did something that day, and being forced to breathe in his ripe body odor had some sort of effect on me. I suppose… that was undeniable. I just had to play it cool, pretend like nothing happened, and maybe I could explore whatever this was with someone more safe. Jack… it was terrifying to think about what he’d do if he found out. That scene from the video flashed across my mind, only this time the feet in frame were Jack’s. If he found out that’d likely be my reality. Put down beneath his feet… Hearing those words, every day… That I was just his faggot and I lived to serve a real man like him…

I shook my head trying to break out of my stupor. There certainly was something about Jack and his feet. Maybe because he started all this. Maybe I could take quick whiffs of his boots while he was out or something, maybe see if that second time was just a fluke. But no matter how much that scene that just flashed through my eyes made my dick flood with blood, I couldn’t give in to that. I had to listen to reason. Who knows where that would lead me…

After washing off and finally wrapping up, I stepped out of the shower, dried off, and dressed myself before walking back to my room. As I stepped inside, Jack was still on his bed, although he was now sitting upright with a bare foot crossed over one of his legs. As I put my dirty clothes away, Jack spoke up, “Oof, perfect time, Quent. I’ve been having a problem, and need your help.” Although none of his words were necessarily scary, Jack had his usual confident grin on his face. A grin of control. A grin of power. The kind of grin a real man would have when he knows he can get what he wants.

I gulped and nodded along, “Yeah, what’s up?”

“I was working out earlier with some of the guys. You know, Vince, Keith, and Corey. Anyway, I think there must have been something in my shoe, I got like a stabbing sensation in my foot,” he grimaced as he wiggled some of his toes, my eyes instantly dropping to watch his toes slide against one another. “Thing is, I don’t see anything there, but I don’t know, I still feel the pain here. You think you can take a look?”

I’d sat on my bed while he spoke and felt a lump in my throat as he made the inquiry. Holy fucking shit, Jack was asking me to take a look at his foot… There was no fucking way that he knew what had been going through my head, was there? In an instant, I tried to process what the fuck I should do. On the one hand, it was fucking crazy to just do what he said and willingly go close to his feet like this. But on the other, he was stronger than me and could force me to do whatever he wanted. I could feel reason slipping from my hands though. This was the perfect opportunity in a way; I could get close to the source of my curiosity and really see whether being by his bare foot again caused the same effect. I had always been a bit of a nerd and in trying to process this I suppose I was trying to break it down scientifically. If I approached his foot and felt the same dizzying effect, felt the same haze as the first time and like when I watched that video, then it meant… well I’m not sure what it meant, but I could figure that out.

Swallowing the lump in my throat, I let go of my earlier reasoning and decided this opportunity was too good to pass up, “Yeah, uh, sure. I can take a look.”

“Hah, nice. Knew you’d do it. Now c’mere.”

I got up and slowly ambled toward him before looking down at his right foot and deciding that I had to get down, it only made sense. After gently lowering myself to the ground, Jack then turned his foot to face me, “So do you see anything?”

Sitting so close to Jack’s big, wide foot, I suddenly felt the pressure of the situation start to sink in. It was hard to focus, and I tried my best to keep bullsitting my way through this interaction. “It’s, uh, hard to tell.” I tried to appear like I was looking at his foot from various angles. It really was hard to see anything as my eyes tried to take it all in. The huge vastness of his soles. The cheesy aroma emanating from them was stronger, but still less intense from this distance. It was different than last time. To… to get a better idea, I had to get closer. “Here… let me get a better look.”

My hands slowly reached up and grabbed Jack’s large foot, my hands slightly sliding against the still slick surface. Surprisingly, he let me just take his foot into my hands as I lifted it and stretched it out, drawing it closer to my face. There, I thought, that’s much closer, that’s juuuust about… it. All at once, I was struck over the head by the intense stench. It was just like before. It was almost… commanding. Demanding to be noticed. My eyes had started to kaleidoscope once again before I used all my willpower to bring them back in to gaze over the sole stretching before me. I tried my best to take quiet, deep breaths as that familiar scent enveloped me. It was warm and suffocating. Intoxicating in its own way.

I looked back over his foot, scanning the whole surface from heel to toes. There were a few rough spots, a testament to how much he worked out, how strong he was… a real man, but overall it was still relatively smooth and pink. I looked for anywhere there might be something pressing into his foot, causing him pain. As I held the foot close to my face, one of my thumbs naturally drifted onto the arch and pressed into the sweaty, meaty surface, kneading it. I didn’t realize I was even doing it until Jack let out a light groan.

“Oh, s-sorry, did that hurt?”

Jack had a strange expression on his face initially, not confusion like I’d expect, but an intense look in his eye that felt like he was staring through me. Then he knit his brow while listening to my apology, and grunted, “Yeah… A little. That’s why I told you to look at my foot… Did you forget that I said it hurt?”

“Oh, uh…” I quickly tried to save face and come up with the best lie that I could. “No, I was, uh, trying to see where your foot might hurt…”

“Oh, heh, well then keep that up, I’ll tell you if it hurts anywhere too bad. Otherwise just keep rubbing around like that, ‘kay?”

I let out a sigh of relief that it seemed I’d managed to get off the hook, “Yeah, of course…” This time intentionally, I let my thumbs wander back onto the surface of his sole. I thumbed around the arches, noticing tension built up from the days exertion since we joined. I firmly pressed in and guided the knots outs.

After working along his arches for a minute, I drifted up toward the ball of his foot and under his toes. There were a few roughs spots here, though the accumulation of sweat helped me to more easily knead out the pressure. I then gently massaged each of his toes before coming down to his heel.

All while I did this, I held his foot less than a few inches from my face. My head pounded from the raunchy odor, but I couldn’t stop myself from breathing it in. It was like an oxymoron. It stank so I kept breathing it in. I couldn’t stop breathing in his feet, the smell of a real man. It was repulsive, but I couldn’t help from wanting more. This is my place… right? Just like that man said— underneath his feet. Even as my face slightly contorted unconsciously from the odor, I couldn’t stop myself.

“What about the other one?” I asked almost zombielike and thoughtlessly.

“What about the other one?” Jack questioned, moving his foot from my view and managing to pull me from the atmosphere of his foot. He looked down with a mixture of confusion and disgust.

“I thought I might do the other one.” I continued, still slightly entranced.

Jack paused for a moment, then continued his interrogation. “Why the fuck would I want that? I said this was the foot that hurt, weren’t you trying to figure out where it hurt?” His voice had changed slightly. It became more assertive, almost arrogant. Like he was testing me. It helped to snap me out of the spell.

“I, uh, yeah, I was…” I mumbled, now clearly embarrassed at my thoughtlessness.

“Didn’t seem like you were really paying attention to whether it hurt or not either,” Jack scoffed. My face burned bright red at being caught in that lie. I had no idea how to save this other than by saying the very things that could bury my hole deeper. But they were all I had.

“Oh, I— I was… yeah, it seemed to really hurt around the arch. It felt like there was a knot there. That’s why I really focused there at the start.”

“Huh, I mean, I didn’t ask you to rub my nasty foot, I just wanted you to see if there was something in it, like a splinter or something. Honestly, rubbing it could have just made it worse.”

With every word he spoke I felt my heart sink further and further into my stomach. “S-sorry… I… I just wanted to help…”

“Oho,” Jack grunted contempt, “so you wanted to rub my sweaty feet then?” I don’t think my face could turn any redder than it possibly already was. I had no idea what to say anymore, so I just stayed quiet. “Ugh, jesus, you don’t need to pout. I get that you’re a fag, but it’s not like you like my feet or something, right?” Jack raised his right foot back to my face and wiggled his toes as he spoke. My heart which initially felt like it stopped hearing those words now went into overdrive being re-engulfed in that heady, sweaty scent. “Fine, you can keep rubbing,” he relented, lifting his other foot and prying off his other boot and sock. As he slowly stretched his other leg out and his second foot increased the intensity of his foot stink, something truly snapped back into place.

Without hesitation, I raised my hands again and worked on his left foot now as he dropped the right foot to rest on my shoulder. I continued to massage his left foot for quite a while, making sure I rubbed every inch, before he then pried it from my hands. Before I could react, Jack then pushed his right foot back into my face. Instinctively, I got back to work on that foot like I thought he wanted.

I’m not sure how much time passed, but after a while Jack sighed, “All right, faggot, you can kiss my feet goodbye or whatever because I’m fucking starving.” If he hadn’t pulled his foot from my hands when he did I might have actually kissed his foot. Instead, he slipped on some slides and jumped up as I crawled back over to my bed, coming down from the high of his feet. Without saying another word, he sauntered out of the room and left me alone.

I waited a few seconds but after that I practically lost control. I grabbed his still wet, sweaty socks and rushed over to my computer. I opened it back up and realized I must have closed the tab after before he came in, probably some fast thinking on my part to make sure he didn’t see anything, and I re-opened my browser looking for the same video. After a few seconds I’d found it and clicked play once again. As I listened to that voice tell me what a good faggot I was lying beneath his feet, feet that looked close enough to Jack’s, I held Jack’s damp socks to my face and took a deep inhale. Within seconds of pulling out and stroking my cock, I shot load after load onto my stomach.

As I pulled the sock away, a clear grimace on my face, I shuddered at what I’d just done. After cleaning my cock, I quickly rose up and tried to put his socks back where they’d been. I felt almost frozen with dread before all the regret and disgust came crashing back down. I ran out to the bathroom and dropped to the floor in front of a toilet, dry heaving. What the fuck did I just do? That question spun around in my head as images of Jack’s sweaty feet flashed before my eyes. I closed my eyes and tried to focus on my breathing to prevent myself from throwing up, but all I could see where the expansive soles of Jack’s feet. So close… so ripe.

I stayed on the ground for about 10 minutes before my stomach settled and I wobbled my way back to my room. I quietly crawled back into my bed and pulled the covers over my head like I’d done so many times recently. I squeezed my eyes shut for as long as it took until sleep finally took me. While I did, my hands rested close to my face and I continued to breathe in the stink that clung to them. Too tired to get back up, I eventually fell asleep feeling as though I was still surrounded by Jack’s feet.

-

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Hope you all enjoyed! A fellow footsub @footsockboy wanted me to write an army foot worship story, and I did my best to do so! This is definitely another story where I could see myself adding to it in the future, so let me know if you all enjoyed it!

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He was a bit off with him for a while. Behind his back he would make jokes to me about them, calling them names, and theorising which would be the 'bitch' and who'd be the "man" (man always said with air quotes).

Eventually I got fed up of hearing it and just snapped back one night; "Why don't you just have them come over and find out"

He seemed indignant, then said he might have to do just that. My brother was thrilled when he told me dad had told him to bring his boyfriend over at the weekend. He was hoping it was a sign of our dad accepting him. I hoped so too...but was more confident it would be an awkward meet up with poor taste comments and questions.

Come the day though I was heading home for the meet up. I was running a bit late from work and was keen to make sure they weren't left alone with him for too long. When I walked through the door iw as met with he most unexpected sight. My brother and his boyfriend were on the floor at my dad's feet, while he looked down at them like a king on a throne.

We agreed to meet right away but he added that he had worked construction all day and that he had eaten a big Mexican meal with lots of beans and cheese. "My ass is ripe and my farts are going to be moist and smelly!" I told him that is exactly how I wanted him and he warned me, "Better make sure this is what you want because once I lock your head into my 'fart box', you'll be sniffing my ass all evening.

I was excited but at the same time scared. And when he first sat on my face, the smell of his ass was heavenly - I loved it. But once he started farting it was another matter - the smell was so strong that I thought I might throw up. My body shook and I tried to tell him that I had changed my mind but he just laughed and let rip an even bigger deeper sounding fart directly up my nostrils. "You asked for this pig and there's no turning back."

It was a very long session. Me sniffing farts as he watched tv all evening. And when he was ready for bed he finally got up and released me. He laughed and said again, "That's what you asked for pig!"

Bet they taste better than my son's. You can taste a real man.

Fuuuuck. This feels so good. When you're finished with my feet you can come up to my pits. Then you're going to show me what else you're good at. It's been a long time since I got a BJ, and I've always wanted to be rimmed.

My brother loved to torture me. he’d always rub any source of stink on my face. I was 14 at the time and even though I had some muscle my brother, Mark was the god of jocks standing at a monster 6 foot 2 and covered in muscle at the age of 17

it was 2 weeks into the summer and I woke up to something on my face. I took a sniff and gagged it was then that i knew what it was.It was my brother. Pprrttbbt “ooh sniff that up bitch” mark said with enjoyment. He loved waking me up to his stink, whether that meant him farting, or just holding one of his dirty socks up to my nose.

Around the same time that week our parents had to leave for 2 weeks to visit family and of course they were leaving mark in charge.f***.

2 days after our parents left. as I walked to my room I walked into my brother wearing a pair of tightie whites which looked too small for him,“ hey Bro, I’m having a party tonight it’s gonna be fucking awesome, so stay in your room, k? That’s my first order, follow all of my orders and the next two weeks will be bearable, but don’t do as I say and i can make it much different”

I woke up the next morning both incredibly anxious and the most satisfied I’d ever been. It was a strange mixture of emotions that felt antithetical to one another. But I suppose looking back, the situation was dialectical. It was both hot as fuck and completely embarrassing and pathetic. Yet even thinking back on it feeling it was “pathetic,” that only served to get that same rise out of me. And not the angry kind, the horny and desperate kind. I hung on that word pathetic and felt my still slightly aching dick strain, and in a similarly pathetic act I reached down and started stroking it again as I recounted the previous night.

-

I had been throwing a house party for a bunch of friends. It was my idea after a recent break up to try and cheer myself up. Although initially hesistant, I had invited some of my ex’s friends over. Apparently he was being very quiet about the whole matter and isolating himself, and while they still wanted to be his friend, they did not appreciate being shut out. I felt concern for him, and I knew I needed to focus on me moving forward. So when some of his friends checked on me and I told them about the party, they quickly spread the word amongst themselves and invited themselves in. Again, I felt bad… but having them want to support me like that did feel nice, I can’t lie. So we hung out, drank some beer, wine, and cocktails, and we listened to music and gamed. It was actually a real fun time, and I was glad I’d followed through with the idea.

As the party died down, most everyone left. One by one heading out my door as the minutes ticked by, until around 11 PM it was just Ben and me. We had been drinking casually throughout the night and now had another glass of wine we were slowly chipping away at as we sat on my couch. Ben was a nice guy if not a little oblivious at times. He could be pretty direct, though I could always tell that he meant well. This was perfectly captured by the direction the conversation went once we were alone.

“I still can’t believe you and Pat broke up, dude. You guys seemed like the perfect couple.” Ben sighed before taking a swig of his wine.

“Y-yeah. I guess.” I mumbled out these words still feeling awkward speaking about the split and quickly joined Ben in taking a sip. Thank fucking god for the alcohol. It at least helped to numb my feelings some as the sting from the recent break up stirred in my chest.

“He always seemed sweet on you, which y’know seemed pretty out there since he’s normally such a dick!” Ben laughed, “It always seemed like he was gloating about how perfect you guys were, like he wanted to rub it in. Guess things weren’t so perfect, huh.” I knew Ben and Patrick had this playful back and forth dynamic, often going at each other. I never really noticed how much it may have gotten to him though.

“I mean, it was a complicated situation,” I tried to reason. “He wasn’t bad—“

“Wasn’t that good either, I guess.” Ben had an edge to his voice that took me off guard for a moment before he changed his tune in the opposite direction. “I mean, I can’t really see you being the problem. You’ve always been so considerate and thoughtful.” A sweet smile crept across his face as he stretched his arms behind the couch and kicked his feet up on the coffee table.

“Oh,” I blushed, smiling myself and glancing down at his feet covered in dirty white socks. “I— I mean I try. I did try to do a lot for him.”

“Yeah, I bet. You seem like the type of guy to go above and beyond for your man.” Although I didn’t enjoy his slick jabs at Patrick, I couldn’t help but let my guard down a little as he continued to compliment me.

“Yeah. I guess I did try to do what I could to make his life easier, make him feel good, you know.” The drinks of the night were really starting to hit me, and disinhibited I admitted, “It’s just what I enjoy, but I like being of service to a guy. So I tried my best.”

“Oh yeah?” Ben leaned in intrigued. “How do you like being of service to a guy?”

“I dunno, I liked making him dinner. I’d often take care of things around the apartment. If he needed anything then I’d often try to get it for him.” I tried to stick with pretty bland and inconspicuous actions, but evidently either Ben was more keen than I’d given him credit for, or he simply wanted there to be more.

“Come ooooon, dude. That can’t be all!” Ben giggled playfully, “You said you liked taking care of your man, so there’s gotta be more than that!” He poked and prodded my arm as he spoke.

“Well…” I paused, trying to think of any other action I could describe, but coming up short, I just blurt it out. “…I’d often give him a foot massage after work.” I blushed after so directly saying that. I get that I hadn’t really admitted anything. But it came close, and I was normally way too shy to ever talk freely about my… interest like this.

“Damn!” Ben laughed, “He had you rubbing his feet after work? I get that you’re saying you’re inclined to do something like that… but shit, he was really whipping you into shape!”

Still feeling defensive and protective of Patrick, I didn’t want Ben to get the wrong idea and followed-up, “Oh, I actually offered most of the time. I would ask if he’d let— if he wanted a foot massage.” I realized I threw myself under the bus with that for the sake of my ex, but, I don’t know. I couldn’t bring myself to bad mouth Pat.

“What!?” He spat out exasperated. “You were asking to rub his feet for him? Shit, dude, no wonder he was gloating about you guys. He was getting fucking treated like a king. I can barely get a chick I’m seeing to give me a shoulder rub let alone massage my fucking feet after work.”

I could feel my face burning as he spoke. It was all still kind words though. I think that’s what lead me to be so loose lipped. “Although he didn’t really care for it too much. I guess that’s one thing that led to us having problems.”

“Hold on.” Ben raised his hands in a pausing motion. “He had you asking to rub his feet and he didn’t enjoy it? Shit man, you could fucking rub mine right now if you want! Wait, so was it just an issue of you feeling unappreciated… or…” His voice trailed off and he looked at me with a funny grin.

“I… um…” My voice felt as though it was escaping me and even if it wasn’t, I couldn’t find the words to say.

“Come on,” Ben smirked as he put an arm on my shoulder. “You can say it.”

I felt both unnerved and completely at ease upon feeling his large, warm hand against my arm. “I… um…” I started to speak, trying to force the words out that felt glued inside me. Then, all at once I realized what he’d said just a minute before. That he’d let me rub his feet. I looked down at those dirty white nike socks, and it was strange. I’d never really thought about Ben that way, and I don’t know if that was really appropriate. But something about him encouraging it… validated me. His response was so casual it made me feel… normal. “Yeah, I have a— a thing for feet. Someone else’s. I don’t know, it’s just always been kinda hot to me.”

“Sure, dude! That’s like I’ve always been a tit man myself. But tons of guys are ass dudes. You’re just like that except you like a guy’s feet!” I listened to him so easily parse through reasoning on why my fetish made sense and felt so much tension release with a simple exhale.

“You… uh, you don’t think it’s weird?” My chest and face burned with yearning. Yearning to feel understood.

“Nah man. Like what I was getting at before, I like tits because they accentuate a woman’s chest. Even when men get big and work out their pecs, they don’t get like that. A nice pair of tits is like a symbol of a chick’s womanliness. Like I see ‘em and I’m like, ’now THAT’s a woman!’ I’m sure you think something like that for a dude’s feet.”

“Y-yeah— yeah, there’s something about a guy’s feet. When they’re big and strong. It’s like that screams, ‘That’s a MAN’ to me.” Everything Ben said made so much sense. Even if I don’t like women like that, I can get what he means. It felt so much easier to open up to him. Patrick wasn’t a dick to me or anything, but he almost never really entertained my interest. I’d ask him if I could rub his feet— kiss them, lick them— but he never really initiated things, and it was like he couldn’t understand why I was into it. But Ben somehow… it was like he got it.

“Damn, dude. That’s what you get from a guy’s feet, huh? Sooo…” Ben emphasized his pause for effect before reaching down to his ankles. “What do you think about my feet?” He stripped the dirty fabric off and turned a foot to face me, flexing and wiggling his meaty toes.

Immediately I felt my face turn flush again as I stumbled over my words. “I— I, uh, I mean, maybe this isn’t right… right?”

“Whatcha mean?” Ben teased as he waved the foot up and down.

“W-well, u-using your own analogy, how would you feel if a chick just asked you to check out her breasts?”

“Hah! I’d fuckin’ love it, dude!” Ben snorted laughing. “Man, I’d fucking be like ‘Sure, lemme check ‘em out. I can feel ‘em for you too.’ Start playing with her nipples, groping ‘em. Bro, if she’s asking me to check out her tits then I bet she fuckin’ wants me playing with ‘em! Don’t lie, I bet you fuckin’ love me asking you to check out my feet.”

I couldn’t deny what Ben said, but now a question burned in my mind and it wouldn’t go away without me asking. “S-so do you want me checking out your feet? Um, p-playing with them?”

“Dude, I don’t give a shit if you look at my feet.” Ben snorted, then smirking added, “You just gotta tell me what you like about feet while you do it… And what you like about mine! I think that’s a fair trade off.” He nodded his head as if to agree with himself. He then shifted around to the other end of the couch and maneuvered his legs over so the soles of his feet were facing me. “Come on, I want you to take a look. I bet they’re fucking sexy, aren’t they? Sounds like you like manly looking feet. There’s no way mine aren’t.”

I can’t deny that I had been eyeing Ben’s feet in his socks while we’d been talking and even more so after he took his socks off, and they were very manly. They were pretty big and strong looking. It wasn’t just the toes that were meaty. His soles looked thick and powerful. I was worried about the direction this was going but as his feet plopped down into my lap, I couldn’t help but give in to my indulgence and fetish. I slowly reached over and grabbed Ben’s right foot which was crossed over the left. It was warm, and slightly sweaty. I felt my hands turn to mush from my nerves and how turned on I was. My mouth felt dry as I inspected the objects of my interest before me now. After a minute, Ben cleared his throat, “Come on, gotta hold your end of the deal.” Even without looking at him, I could feel the smirk on his face and could tell he was enjoying this.

“H-how big are they?” I asked, almost begging to know.

“Hah, so you like how big they are, huh?” He teased, flexing his toes.

“Y-yeah. They’re really, really big.”

“Makes sense, they’re size 14’s. So pretty fucking huge, yeah.”

“Oh… yeah, they are really huge. I never noticed that before. I usually tried to avoid looking at other guys’ feet.”

“Why’s that?” Ben inquired, trying to dig himself deeper and deeper into my psyche.

“I don’t want to get turned on so easily,” I admitted. “Plus, I wasn’t single before, it felt like a betrayal if I was gawking at another man’s feet.”

“Well, now you can look alllll you want, bud. Now, what else do you like about feet?” Somehow I felt that smirk bore even deeper into my mind.

“I like the way a guy’s feet can look.” I stared deep into Ben’s fleshy soles. They weren’t too rough, but they weren’t super soft either. Evidence pointing toward the time he’d spend on his feet. “You have some wide soles, but with a visible arch,” I maneuvered his feet and palmed the soles in response to where I was talking about. “You also have nice toes. They’re not fat, but still plump; and not short and stubby, but also not too long. They’re…” My voice trailed off, but Ben was quick to finish that thought.

“Perfect?” Ben grinned to himself as I continued to stare deep into the bottom of his feet. I nodded slowly in response to his assertion. “Hah! Nice. Figured I’d have some pretty sexy feet after thinking about it some… but ‘perfect,’ huh? That’s pretty hot to hear.” Not missing a beat, he kept prodding me, “So, what else? Can’t just be the looks that gets you going. I know it’s not that way for me when it comes to a nice pair of tits.”

“Oh… Um, no, I, uh, yeah I do like some other things.” I was losing nerve for sure, but also just looking into Ben’s feet made it harder to think straight.

“Sooooo,” he emphasized dramatically, “What else?” He wiggled and scrunched his toes as he spoke and pushed them slightly closer. It’s strange the difference what little distance made, but now I could pick up on the slightly cheesy, heady scent practically radiating from his feet.

“Th-their smell… I like their smell.” I confessed disinhibited, almost trancelike watching Ben’s feet.

“What? Really?” Ben laughed in disbelief. “Dude, my feet fucking reek though. You like that?”

“Y-y-yeah…” I nodded still entranced by the movement of Ben’s toes.

“Shit, I mean I’m kinda curious now. I kinda wanna see you take a hit of my feet and tell me what you think. Jesus, that’s fucking crazy to say out loud. I can see why you were hush-hush about it, but damn it’s kinda funny to think about.”

I was so fucking close to grinding my face into the bottom of Ben’s soles, but my better judgment— what little remained of it— kept me cognizant of what is appropriate. “I… I don’t know, Ben. Wouldn’t that be going too far…?”

“You think?” Ben wondered aloud. “Yeah, I guess if we think about that tits analogy. You checking them out is one thing, you feeling them and massaging them would be like groping ‘em, and boy I’d already be itching to get inside a chick at that point, so I can’t imagine how horny I must be making you feel right now.” I did my best to keep my eyes off of his as my face burned in embarrassment the more he spoke. I was absolutely horny out of my mind. “I guess sniffing my nasty feet would be like… kissing and licking the tits… Although, wait… Shit, that’d be more like if you kissed and licked my fucking feet and toes. Wait, do you like that too?”

I was petrified listening to Ben speak like this. Not because it made me feel disgusting or weird, but because he was so direct in the way he spoke about me playing with his feet. Despite myself, I swallowed hard and nodded, “Oh, uh, yeah… I really like that.” I  internally kicked myself for that— did I really have to say I “really” liked it?!

“Hah! Fuuuuck, dude. So you’re saying you’d lick my feet?” In the swirl of embarrassment within me, the one saving grace was how earnest Ben seemed. It made me let down my guard despite the otherwise uncomfortable situation. “Would you do it even if they were dirty and sweaty like right now?” I immediately nodded, blushing hard. “Jesus Chriiiiiist.” Ben let out a long sigh, “Shit man, that is crazy… You know, I meant it before. I would kill to have a nice foot rub.” Ben lifted his feet close to my face and flexed his toes, fanning them and the sharp rancid, yet hypnotic stench.

I sat staring down at Ben’s big feet, caught between responding and not giving in to my urges. The urges that make me feel weak. The urges that make me lose control of myself. “Come on, you can rub ‘em for me a little, right?” He smiled, slyly.

“I… I don’t know, Ben.” I muttered back. Fighting back as much as I could. Nervous about what it would mean and what would happen if I gave in to him.

“No one will find out. You’re just doing a small favor for your buddy.” Ben grinned feigning innocence.

“Just a small favor?” I mumbled out, watching Ben’s second toe flick against the big toe. That heavy odor slowly wafting up toward me.

Seeing the opportunity, Ben pounced. “Yeah, they hurt, y’know. You’re just helping me so they hurt less. You’re a good pal. You don’t want me to be hurting do you?”

“Well, no, of course I don’t—“

“So you’ll rub ‘em for me! You’re such a sweet friend.” Ben beamed, tapping his heel against my leg.

I really didn’t think this was appropriate… but I didn’t want Ben to be in pain. Reluctantly, I placed my hands back on to the warm, moist soles and began sliding my thumbs over his right arch.

“Shiiiiiiit, dude.” Ben sighed, “Fuck yeah, keep that up.” He leaned back and settled down further, stretching his legs out more. Backed up against the end of the couch, I awkwardly continued pampering his first foot as it nearly pressed into me.

Thumbs up the arches, then over the balls. Slide down the arches then over the heels, I continued to massage Ben’s feet. As I did, that foul, cheesy scent invaded my mind. I guess they were pretty sweaty… so sweaty in my hands. My hands were covered in Ben’s foot sweat. I wondered how they might smell directly at the source.

I slowly raised a hand to my face before catching myself and pulling it back down and resumed massaging. I couldn’t sniff Ben’s foot funk… not… not in front of him! What would he think? I mean, he knew I had a foot fetish, but still… that would be taking it too far, right?

I tried to focus on taking care of Ben’s feet, but it was like every few seconds he batted those long, meaty toes and a dusting of rank odor would fill my lungs and I’d have to stop myself from breathing so deeply.

I looked up to Ben and noticed he was on his phone. I felt so grateful that he was, it at least sheltered some embarrassment. I turned my attention back to his feet as I slid my fingers between his toes, stretching them. He released a deep sigh feeling his toes stretch out and as my fingers pulled back out it was easy to feel how coated in his toe sweat they’d become. My fingers had run through perhaps the most potent area of stink. I could already smell the dank odor, but… but it wasn’t enough. Once again, my hand crept up to my face until it was just under my nose. I took a deep, soft inhale. Though it wasn’t directly from the source, the scent was more powerful than what I’d gotten up until this point. My head spun from the intensity of the smell.

“Take another whiff.” I heard. I obeyed. I took another whiff of my fingers and once again felt my head roll back as that stinging stink filled my lungs. It wasn’t until Ben raised his foot up to my face that I realized what had happened. “Why don’t you take a hit right from my feet?”

I held up Ben’s foot as he prodded me into action. I tried to resist, to hold back as much as I could as his foot hung inches from my face, its pounding smell already suffocating me. “Oh, I, um, I…” I stuttered.

“That cool air would feel so good on my feet. I bet that’d make ‘em feel so much better. You wanna be a good friend and help me feel better, right?” Still gazing into the meaty flesh I gently nodded to his assertion. “Then,” He ordered, moving the foot forward until it pressed against my cheek and lips and forehead. “Take a deep breath in.” I inhaled sharply, my chest drumming faster and faster, and my face burning in intoxication. “Fuuuuuck… aaand exhaaaale.” I complied and breathed out. After the first inhale, my resistance shattered and I was giving in. I took another hit, and hit after hit. Deep, long inhales as I let go and began massaging the other foot. Ben ground his huge sole against my face and I caressed it in turn. Gingerly symbolizing and admitting my submission, forfeiting any sense of self-respect.

“Shit, dude, you’re really getting in there, huh? Oof, man, and that shit has to fucking reek. I walked to get here… That was a mile and a half or so. You sure you wanna be smelling my dirty, nasty feet?”

I was struck dumb by the very ripe feet Ben was taunting me with. In this state, to me, his words sounded sincere, and I played right into his hand. “P-please…” I begged, burying my face beneath the sole on my face, my lips dragging against the moist arch. “Please don’t make me stop…”

“Hah, come on, you can do better than that.” Ben sneered, removing his foot from my face and hanging it over the side of the couch, like a dangling carrot. I gullibly took the bait, sliding off the couch as he maneuvered around to get more comfortable. “Come on, why should  I let you sniff my disgusting feet?”

“B-because I need it,” I threw my face back into both of Ben’s soles now, the combined stench sending me into overdrive. “Please, Ben, please, I’ll do whatever you want, I need your feet. Please let me sniff and kiss and worship your feet.”

“Whoa, worship, huh? Heh, fuck, I should be worshipped, shouldn’t I?” “Yes!” I agreed gently kissing Ben’s feet. The very faint flavor of his sweat was salty and slightly sour. It drove me crazy. “Please, please let me worship you. Whatever you want!”

“Heh, whatever I want, huh? Tell me, who has sexier feet, Pat or me?” The question almost snapped me out of my stupor. Almost.

“You!” I shouted placing firmer kisses against Ben’s feet. With every kiss, I descended further and further under his grasp.

“Who’s fucking hotter, Pat or me?”

“You! You are. You’re so fucking hot, he never drove me this crazy. I can’t even… fucking…” I began panting beneath his hot soles as I spoke, overcome with lust.

“Can’t even fucking control yourself, huh? So who fucking owns you with their fucking feet? And you can answer that with your tongue.”Immediately my tongue shot out and dove, pressing against Ben’s damp skin, absorbing the sweat and foot gunk, sliding up and weaving between his toes. I felt my eyes roll to the back of my head as I tasted and savored his toe jam. My legs, which were kneeling, and back suddenly gave out and within seconds I was on the ground. Ben didn’t miss a beat, his feet never relenting in swallowing my face as they pinned it to the floor. “You’re not fucking going anywhere,” he snarled, grinding them against my face. “Pat always wanted to rub your perfect little relationship in my face, well now I’m rubbing my filthy feet in your face! Hah! Fuck yeah, get in between every fucking toe!”

I was barely registering the words Ben was saying, though I felt the raw dominance they were dripping in. It only served to make me weaker. Drool trailing from my lips along the bottom of his soles, I looked up at him, eyes soft and glassy. Smirking, he lowered a foot until a big toe pressed against my lips which parted easily for the salty invader. Adding his second big toe, he stretched my lips apart into a smile. “Awww,” he mused, “look how happy you are with my big toes in your mouth.” My tongue, still free, continued to wipe itself against his dirty soles collecting sock lint and other foot jam. My eyes naturally fell down to his feet, then after a second, he prodded me, “Now why don’t you say, ‘I love Ben’s big feet.’”

Unhesitatingly, I muffled out. “I lumfff Benshhh biihggg shtinky feeethhh.”

Ben laughed at my obedience, and cocked a brow. “My big stinky feet, eh? Ha! Well, while I didn’t tell you to say that part, that’s fucking pathetic… and hot as shit. You’re a pathetic little foot fag, aren’t you?” Despite the harsh words, Ben’s voice and tone were more pleasantly teasing and playful.

I nodded, zombielike with drool dripping out of my mouth and down Ben’s long toes. My tongue dropped out and licked it back up. A big big was plastered on his face as he removed one of his toes from my mouth and tapped my face with the sole of his foot.

“That’s a good foot licker.” Ben chuckled to himself. “Suck on my big toe while you rub the other foot.” Closing my eyes I complied. Letting my world go dark as I only focused on the stinging stink that hypnotized me and the salty sweat that captivated me and the warm, moist flesh that controlled me.

After some time, we switched toes that I suckled on and which foot I massaged. Ben slapped my face around and enjoyed shoving his toes in my mouth and making me take long laps along his arches. While I was sucking on his heel, Bensuddenly removed his soles from my face and in a swift motion, stood above me and revealed his hard, thick cock. Before I could make sense of anything, spurt after spurt of cum shot onto my face. It went over my lips and into my eyes. All I could do was lie there as he continued to coat me in an additional layer of his domination over his foot funk.

After a moment, Ben’s breathing slowed and he sighed contentedly as he kneeled down and pressed his large cock head against my lips. Once again, without resistance, they opened and my tongue naturally swirled around the delicious cream cleaning his tool of domination for him. 

“Anything you wanna say for getting to suck out my toe jam, foot boy?” Ben could barely stifle his own laughter as my lips stretched to their limit by his hung cock.

“Th-Thhfaangg yheuuuugh!” I cried out, every drop of Ben’s cum further crushing my psyche and awareness.

“Yoooouuuu’reeee welcome. You know you can always fag out on my stinky feet. ‘Cause I’m just suuuuch a good friend.”

I nodded as I continued to suck on the juicy meat. Once it was sufficiently clean, Ben rose up, dressing himself before tapping my face once with a foot, now closed within a shoe.

“You did a great job. You’re suuuuch a good friend, Ollie. My feet feel so much better now!” Sighing, Ben started walking away, “Anyway, see ya later! We should do this again!” He cried out before exiting my apartment.

I sat there coated in Ben’s toe jam and cum for a long time unable to move or think. Gradually reality settled in and I grew embarrassed and guilty for how depraved I acted. Despite that, I couldn’t bring myself to wash off my face. I reached down and within seconds of touching my cock shot my own load. Exhausted I got up, wiping my dick on a nearby towel before crawling into bed and letting sleep easily take over.

-

-

-

Life had taken quite a turn recently, and it was a shit show. I worked as a consultant for firms, a pretty stressful job. They’d come to me seeking guidance and it was my job to make sure that I didn’t fuck up and provided them with adequate support. Well, everyone makes mistakes, sure… but I just made a massive fucking mistake. I advised caution and hesitation when it was the wrong move and now they’re coming at me like sharks that got the first whiff of blood. I was spiraling, and my employer looked to be doing little to help me out of this mess.

I sighed, entering my local bar as I recounted the mess my life had become. I walked over to the bartender and slid into the chair, ordering a Long Island to start. I needed something strong to hit me fast. I slowly chipped away at the drink as I kept my head low and couldn’t drive my thoughts away from work. I’d come out because, like my work life, my personal life was also a shit show of loneliness and isolation and I wanted to be around others. I suppose I only had myself to blame with the hours I worked and the dedication I tried to uphold to my work. But now feeling my enthusiasm toward work dimmed, I only felt the cold oppression of being alone. Despite knowing that I wanted to be around others. I felt this wall between me and every other person in the bar. In my mind, it was like nothing I could do could break me from this prison.

The only person I felt I could say anything to voluntarily was the bartender. Growing sick of the intensely alcoholic beverage now, I wanted to change it up to something more palatable, as if that would somehow change anything. “Can I get a ‘sex on the beach?’” The bartender nodded at my request and started grabbing the appropriate liquids to mix.

“Yeah, I could go for that too, hah!” A voice beside me spoke up, startling me initially. I glanced over to see him, though more out of formality than really observing anything, before I turned my head back down. “Hah, guess you didn’t even see me, too busy with your head in your hands.”

“Oh, sorry… I’m just out of it, I suppose.”

“So you’re not normally this mopey and pathetic?” His words stung, though there was truth to them. I was acting pathetic. I gently shook my head. “Good. It’s better when pretty faces have a smile on them.”

My heart almost stopped upon hearing those words. In that moment, it dawned on me the warmth and affection this man had in his voice as he spoke. Thinking back a few moments ago, even as he called my behavior mopey and pathetic, there was no contempt or disdain in his voice. Only concern that I was too in my head to realize.

I turned to face this man and actually noticed him for the first time. He was clad in all black leather with a fitted leather cap. His outfit tightly hugged his skin, and despite the illusion of black clothing his defined body could clearly be seen. Though not a smile, the pain and anxiety that contorted my face released. “That’s very sweet of you,” I replied.

“Hmm… I can see your face relaxed some, but still no smile. You may be a tough nut to crack, but I am determined.” Confidence practically oozed from this man’s voice as he spoke. He spoke as if he had all the answers. “First, let’s get out of these seats. Harder to bury your face down when you’re not sitting,” He spoke, almost commandingly as he himself rose out of his seat.

Though I still wasn’t feeling much better, I wasn’t so consumed by anxiety and depression to be oblivious to a gentle hand reaching out. He was trying to help, even if nothing ultimately changed, it was worth following his lead rather than doing nothing. I slid out of my chair in succession and followed him out into the middle of an open floor.

“Chin up,” he told me, clearly noticing my head still down. I slowly raised my face until my eyes met his. They were deep blue like clear pond in the summer. They were accented perfectly by his darker ensemble. “Good,” he smiled, stroking my face after my eyes met his. “You have beautiful eyes.”

I blushed, though still able to tell I hadn’t quite smiled, and confessed, “I’d been thinking the same. They say blue eyes often feel cold. But yours remind me of a warm pond I could swim in.”

Though not his goal, I had managed to make him smile. “You can be quite poetic with your words. I’ll add good with his mouth to the list of things I’m finding out about you.”

Finally smiling, I joked, “I can be much better with my mouth than just that.”

Not missing a beat, he roughly, but somehow still tenderly, grabbed my face, “I’m eager to find out. But for now I’m satisfied with having gotten what I wanted. That pretty little smile I knew you had.” Coming close enough that I could smell his warm, musky breath, he playfully added, “You’ll find I often get what I want, and” he paused, gazing into my eyes hypnotically, “what I want now is to kiss you. Will you satisfy my wants again?”

“Yes—“ I had only just gasped out the answer before his lips crashed into mine. It was electric. The way his lips danced across my lips and his tongue wove inside my mouth and intertwined with my own. Immediately I knew I had never been kissed like this before. It was exhilarating and exciting, but it also had a way of shaking me. Literally, my knees began to shake, feeling weak and wobbly. Somehow knowing this, he wrapped an arm around my back and held me up as his lips and tongue continued their welcomed assault.

Our mouths continued to become familiar with each other for another few moments before he pried his lips from my own, much to my own disappointment. “Hmph,” he grunted out laughter, “once again a pout returns to your face, only this time it’s much more delectable. Not one of sadness, but one of need.” As his eyes bored deep inside me, as if seeing so much more than what was literally in the space, he smirked, “You do whatever I asked right now, wouldn’t you?”

I was intoxicated from his presence and his kisses, and despite any sense of self-respect that would push against this, I nodded, quietly mumbling out, “Yes…”

He smirk twitched in amusement, clearly pleased by my answer. “Well if you enjoyed that little preview, why don’t we keep the fun going. Keep you hungering for more. The name’s Gerard, and if you want to continue, pay your tab and meet me outside. Something tells me you won’t be more than a minute.” With that he gave me one last glimpse at that confident grin and those deep blue eyes before he stepped away and walked up the stairs and out of the bar.

Left alone, I finally took in the sight around me. The bar had finally begun to fill up, but we had still been mostly the only people out on the open floor. My face grew flush as I realized how disinhibited I’d become. I wasn’t even really into leather or anything… and yet. And yet. Yet, I couldn’t deny how much I’d enjoyed even just these few moments with Gerard. How freeing it had been to just… let him take control. My body started moving as if processing that realization before my mind. He clearly wanted to see me meet him outside. So, I’d just keep following along. I finished my drink and paid my tab all within a few second and walked up those same steps not much more than a minute after him, just like he’d predicted.

“Noah,” I said after stepping out of the doorway to see Gerard smirking as he saw my face come out, “My name’s Noah. It’s nice to meet you.”

As I stood next to Gerard, he grasped my waist and pulled me close. His face was inches from mine, and his lips hanging out of reach taunting me. “Oh we’re doing so much more than meeting each other.” I felt his warm breath envelope me and found it strangely comforting. “Not a second too soon,” he glanced to the side. “We can continue our fun shortly, for now,” he tapped my butt, whispering in my ear, “get in the Uber.”

Quietly I did as Gerard said and he sat mostly in silence for about 20 minutes while the vehicle took us, presumably, to his place. Initially, sitting beside him started to sober me up from the experience; however, he gently and subtly place his hand on my thigh, running his fingers lightly across the inside. This sent shivers down my spine. Somehow this man knew just how to play me. It was like my body was an instrument in his hands, and just as had happened in the bar, my growing tension released and I relaxed in the Uber. Though I was staring out of the window, my mind was fully attentive of the way his fingers played along my thigh. I could tell he was aware of this as he repeatedly tickled and teased exact areas that caused me to sharply inhale or my leg to twitch in uncontrolled pleasure.

“We’re here,” Gerard spoke up, breaking the sexual tension between his hand and my thigh, adding “thank you,” as he stepped out of the car. I hadn’t really been paying attention to where we were as we drove, so as I followed Gerard out of the car, I was taken aback by just how nice the house we were pulled up to was. I closed the door and as soon as I did, Gerard once again pulled me in by my waist and breathily told me: “As soon as you get inside, strip from your clothes. I’ll head to the living room directly ahead and to the right. Meet me in there once you’re naked. Understood?” I nodded without a word as he stepped forward, leaving me with a simple, “Good boy.”

As I walked up toward his house behind Gerard, I felt a similar quiver in my legs that I’d felt back at the bar. A quiver of excitement. A quiver of anticipation. But also, something different. A quiver of fear. What the hell was I doing? This man had so much power in this situation. As much as it was nice to just do as he said, I lost all control when doing so. This was very different from my work, where I normally had so much control in terms of guiding the firms in an effective way. Giving up control like this was the exact opposite of everything I’d built up to. People in my career path dreamed of having various firms hang on every word of their guidance. And now I was hanging on every word of this man I’d met less than an hour ago in a bar.

I had already come this far though, and I was usually pretty good at reading people. I didn’t think Gerard was a bad person. If anything, I thought he was a very kind man. So even if I was uncertain about the situation at large, Gerard was extremely handsome and nice, I wouldn’t mind sleeping with him, so I kept moving forward and entered the house as he unlocked the door.

True to his word, Gerard didn’t even look back as he walked to, presumably, the living room. Slightly more determined, I undressed myself. Removing first my shoes and socks, then the rest of my clothes from top to bottom. I liked having fun with other guys, so even though it’d been a minute I was comfortable taking my clothes off readily. Besides, my body was nice. I neatly folded my clothes on a chair next to the door and walked forward, following the path Gerard had taken.

As I walked through an entry way, the room was dark outside of a dim light on the other side of the room. Gerard sat in an arm chair with a small ottoman resting the side of the chair. He was still dressed in the same leather I’d seen him in before, from the hat down to the boots. “Come here and kneel,” his voice was unwavering and calm. In spite of any doubts, my legs moved without hesitation, though still wobbling some. Slowly I knelt next to him. I raised my head to look at him as he gently cupped my cheek with his hand. The leather was cool initially before the warmth from the skin underneath transferred through. It was an odd effect, both relaxing me with the coolness before exciting me with the warmth. He spoke soft, almost sweet. “I can tell this is different for you. I can see the way you shake. I have played with many boys, but none as doe-eyed and innocent as you. It excites me.” His thumb traced around my cheek before sliding down to my lips. “Having played with many boys, I have a knack for knowing what one really wants— needs. Some like the mundanity, simplicity, and equality of normal penetrative sex. But others have this look in their eyes— much like yours right now— that, in spite of any innocence or obliviousness, demonstrates a hunger. A hunger for something more. You see, you satisfy my wants, but I also satisfy your wants. The catch is simply that satisfying my wants is your want. Nod if you understand.”

He spoke matter of factly. He spoke as though the words he was saying were irrefutable. I understood them, and understood there were guys like that. The only question that remained in my mind was: am I one of those guys? He seemed to think— he seemed to know— that I was. And here, sitting before him, I couldn’t find the words to deny his claim. I’d simply never done this before. It had never even crossed my mind. Like I’d thought before, this was the exact opposite of how I functioned when working. But, that didn’t mean he was wrong. So despite this difference in behavior compared to another realm of my life, I nodded because at the very least I did understand the literal words he was saying.

“Good boy. Obviously, being as unexposed to this as you evidently are, that was less a question of agreement and more a question of simple understanding, which I can tell you took it as. I don’t expect you to believe my claim simply because I said it. I’m a stranger,” Gerard laughed at the obviousness of his own lack of credibility, “in strange clothing. But,” his finger tugged ever so slightly at my bottom lip, spreading it slightly open, “will you give me a chance to show you a new world? Will you let me show you just how much more you can be?”

My eyes finally dropped from his piercing blue gaze. Just for a moment, however. The gentleness of his demeanor and almost… nurturing behavior made it easy to decide. I regained eyes contact, and one again felt as though I was bathing in a warm, sweet pool within in eyes, and whispered simply, “Yes.”

A sexy and almost mischievous smirk came back across Gerard’s face as he mused, “Excellent. I promise to be as gentle as you like. Though I think you will show me you don’t always want the gentle Gerard.” He then stretched his right leg and tapped his foot on the floor in front of him, “I’m going to get to know you better as you get to understanding this potential I’m certain you have. Get on your hands and knees in front of me with your back flat, and tell me a little bit about yourself.”

I did as Gerard said, keeping my back as flat as possible and began to open up. “I’m a legal consultant. I give guidance to firms. I’ve done it for quite a few years now, going on a decade in a few months. It was my passion. I always had an interest in the law—“ As I spoke I suddenly felt a heavy weight press onto my back. I grunted from the sudden pressure and looked to my left. There I saw Gerard’s legs clad in the leather pants stretched out and extended toward me, clearly contextualizing that what I’d felt was him putting his feet on my back. Though I was very slightly taken aback, I wasn’t surprised per se. I’d figured he’d do something, I just hadn’t been sure what. Though I could be mad, could be turned off, I strangely didn’t feel any resistance at all to this act.

“Continue,” Gerard prompted.

“S-sorry.” I breathed out, steadying myself. “So… I had always had a passion for law. It was because my dad was a consultant as well and he wanted me to be a great one like him. I always wanted to live up to his expectations.”

“Does that make you happy?” Gerard’s voice rang out.

“Make me… happy?” I questioned that as though he’d spoken an entirely different language.

“Does trying to live up to your father’s expectations make you happy?” Gerard posed the question again, slightly differently.

I turned my head down and thought for a moment. I didn’t feel I had an answer. “I… I never really thought about it.” “Let me ask you a different question that may answer this one. Have you been happy these past nine years in this role?”

I paused again, trying to give genuine thought to his question. I felt an ache in my chest that was painful. It felt all consuming. It was slight, but I noticed my shoulder and hips slightly slump as a result of this feeling, as though my body wanted to curl up and hide from it despite that it came from within. Responding to this slight adjustment, Gerard cleared his throat and turned a foot down, pressing into my back. “Straighten up. I know it’s hard to think about this, and I know you can keep your back straight for me.”

As he called attention to this, all my focus shifted from that gnawing sensation in my chest to the weight of his feet on my back. In some ways it was a relief. A relief from that pain. I straightened my back and now felt like I could process the feeling I’d experienced.

“Sorry,” I started to apologize, when Gerard spoke up again.

“Sorry, Sir,” he corrected me.

“Yes… Sir.” I added, correcting myself this time. “Sorry, Sir.” I took a deep breath before continuing. “I don’t think I was. At all. I don’t think I’ve really been ‘Happy’ at any point of these nine years.” Sighing, I went on, “Sure, there were moments of joy— such as getting my first job or getting promotions— but I don’t think I ever experienced a sustained state of happiness.”

“Is this really what you want?” Gerard questioned.

“In terms of law? The work I do. Honestly… the answer is still yes. I really do like what I do. I’m good— I’m mostly good at it.” I took a deeper sigh this time, remembering my mistake, though Gerard once again shifted his weight, although this time not from any fault of my posture, which regained my attention and focus. “I’ve always found it interesting. It’s just…” My voice trailed.

“You don’t enjoy doing it for your father’s approval.” Gerard surmised accurately.

“No.” I answered simply, honestly; both to Gerard, and also to myself. “I’ve… never enjoyed doing anything for his approval because… because it’s never enough. I toil away, I stress over every action. I spend hours of my life staying late and working through the early hours of the morning and he never once notices anything. I’m just not enough.” As soon as that last sentence left my mouth, Gerard left foot lifted from my back and pressed into my face. “Do not ever say that. Do not ever say that in my presence. Understood?”

“I’m sorry, Sir… Say what though? That I’m not good—“ Before I could finish speaking, he gently swatted my cheek with the bottom of his boot.

“What did I just say? Do not even repeat it in question. You are enough. You are here because you are enough. Even just doing this,” Gerard gestured down at me as he returned his left foot to my back, “you are enough.”

“I’m basically just a glorified ottoman? How does that make me enough?” Though the question danced around blatantly discounting his statement, I found myself asking it very genuinely. And seeming to understand that genuineness, Gerard answered in a similar fashion.

“You’ve been my ‘glorified ottoman’ for about ten minutes now. Have I asked you to stop? Have I indicated that I want the ottoman right here?” He answered in plain, simple questions of his own.

“No, Sir.”

“That is because my feet and legs feel wonderful on your back. You have been doing an excellent job and have been a great foot rest while telling me about yourself.” Though being praised for being a foot rest was hardly something I’d ever thought I’d want, hearing him say that admittedly made my chest burn with something entirely different than that gnawing hole I’d felt earlier. This new sensation felt warm and expansive and… good. “I could have asked at any point for you to stop, but I didn’t because you’ve done a great job. You kneeled there, adjusting when I said so, and holding the position well. Very well for your first time. An ottoman doesn’t feel stress or pain or fatigue. It’s an object. It doesn’t feel anything. You, on the other hand, are a person. You matter. And you feel. So how do you feel now?”

For the first time I stopped to actually think about my arms and back and legs. My legs were mostly fine, but my back and arms were actually screaming out in pain now that I finally paid attention. I wanted to say what would please him… but I wanted to be honest more, and getting to know him, I think that’s what he wanted more than for me to lie to please him. “My body hurts,” I laughed once I finally admitted it. “I actually hadn’t really focused on that before… I’d been focusing more on the sensation of your feet on my back and talking to you. But now that I am focusing on my back itself and my arms, they— they hurt, Sir. But,” I added very quickly, “I… I also feel good. It’s in part because you praised me, I guess that makes sense considering my dad never praised me. But even if you hadn’t said anything, you did things. You’ve done things this entire night that show you actually pay attention to me regardless of any words. It feels good to… I guess repay that through my own actions.”

Gerard once again lifted his left foot from his back, but this time he gently brought it to my chin and used it to turn my head to face him. He had a confident, sexy, and knowing smile on his face. “I told you I saw something beautiful in you. Your desire to serve me is as beautiful as your face and smile.”

I blushed, gazing into his warm blue eyes that had a way of just softly enveloping me. Maybe he was right. Maybe he had seen something in me.

“All right, you’ve done a wonderful enough job being a foot rest. We can continue with that another time.” He lifted his feet off my back as he spoke, and I genuinely felt… disappointed. “Hah,” he laughed seeing my expression, “there’s that delicious disappointment again. You have no idea what that does to me, boy. But don’t worry too much. You’re not done with my feet quite yet.” Though I had never been into feet, and did not know if I really was now, I found myself excited to continue… “serving” Gerard, as he put it. I raised my back and relieved my arms from holding me up, turning to face him. “Though I love having a boy work these boots,” he confessed playfully, twisting one of his ankles to show the leather boot off, “I know you’re new to this though, so let’s start with something more… basic.” Gerard then lowered his left foot so it hovered above me. “Hold and unlace it.”

“Yes, Sir.” I nodded, the words still feeling strange in my mouth, but not altogether uncomfortable or wrong. I raised my hands, and in one held the boot which now felt huge by comparison to my small hand and unlaced it with the other. After the shoe was unlaced, Gerard gently pressed it into my chest as I held it and pried his foot from the boot. Again, an act I may have otherwise been very upset by if occurring anytime before today. But I’d seen the bottom of those boots, which were nearly spotless, and somehow understood that he was making use of me. Yet again showing me all that I could, serving as a tool to remove his footwear.

We did the same with his right boot as a moist and cheesy odor began to fill my atmosphere down on the ground. I shuffled around, mildly discomforted by the scent, though I couldn’t tell why. Sure, it was his foot. And Gerard had clearly been moving about today by the smell of it, but it wasn’t the smell exactly that made me so uncomfortable. There was something else, something bubbling just beneath the surface.

“Grab the ottoman,” Gerard ordered as he patted the furniture sitting beside him, “and we’ll start with a foot massage. Socks on in the beginning.”

“Yes, Sir.” I reached over and pulled the ottoman to where I had previously been on my hands and knees, and gently lifted his feet onto the new foot rest. Though I was not looking up at him, it appeared as though Gerard smiled when I lifted his foot onto the ottoman for him. I had never really massaged a foot before, so I felt a little lost in terms of what I was doing. Nevertheless, something compelled me to raise my hands and begin working my hands on his right foot. I started by rubbing my thumbs over the arch That felt reasonably effective. The fabric of his sock helped my fingers to glide over his skin due to decreased friction, though I wondered whether that actually helped the massage or not.

I continued to press into the arch for about a minute and as I did, I noticed feeling a certain toughness around the heel of his foot. Intuitively, my thumbs began slowly sliding lower and lower until they were kneading into the points of the arch that connected into the heel. Gerard quietly sighed and groaned above me as I did. I took that to mean this was an area where I lot of pressure built up. Slowly, I worked around other parts of his heel, gently lifting his foot to rub the very bottom. Then I explored rising up to the ball of his foot.

While I did this, I continued to feel a strange sensation in my head and chest. It was like a pressure point building in the center of my forehead and stabbing feeling pressing into my chest. I switched which foot I worked on, but noticed that the longer I worked on Gerard’s feet, the more distracting my bodily sensations were. I couldn’t explain it. I had been find being a foot rest, but somehow just massaging his feet was too much? There had to be a reason, but what was it?

“Do you dislike rubbing my feet?” Gerard’s voice rang out from the sea of silence that had built up between us.

“Oh, um…” I paused briefly, though without any specific reason there was nothing more to think about, “I don’t think so per se, Sir… There’s just something weird. I feel… strange.” I tried to parse out an explanation, though it was obviously as unclear as my own understanding.

“Hmm…” He hummed, bringing a hand to his face and thinking. “Let’s try something.” I nodded in assent as he continued, “Close your eyes, and when I ask, tell me whether the sensation is better or worse.”

“Yes, Sir.” I closed my eyes as he said. Unable to tell what was going on, all of my focus went to my other senses, including what I felt inside. I noticed after a few moments that the sensations did actually abate.

“Better?” Gerard asked.

Keeping my eyes closed, I replied, “Yes, Sir.”

“Interesting. Keep your eyes closed…” I continued to do as Gerard said and after a moment, I noticed the stabbing sensation and the pressure return. I also noticed something very clear: the smell of his feet was much more intense than it was a moment ago. “What about now?” He asked again.

“It’s worse again, Sir.” I replied honestly.

“Hmm…” Gerard hummed again, “You may open your eyes.” When I did, they fluttered open to reveal the darkened gray fabric of his sock less than an inch from my face. His toes stretching just above my nose, placing it directly at the balls of his foot. “It seems it has to do with the smell of my feet. Does it turn you off.”

“No.” I answered quickly, surprising even myself. “I mean, well, it doesn’t turn me off, yeah. But, there’s something about the smell now, I’m realizing. It’s not that it’s bad or anything per se. It’s like… it’s like it reminds me of something.” As I spoke, my voice gradually became clearer. “That’s right. My dad, he- he used to put his feet up after work when he’d evaluate how I was doing in school. Even after I grew up, when I first started working, he’d check in, and he’d always do so right after work, when he’d put his feet up. I was always so stressed. Maybe… maybe I associate this with him.” “That certainly makes sense to me.” Gerard validated my piecing together of events. “Do my feet particularly smell like his?”

“No, actually, not really. His had a more sour scent to them. Yours are more earthy, more… musky.”

“Heh,” Gerard cracked a smile at my description, “You boys always manage to describe my feet the same.” After a pause, he brought the foot that had continued to hang before my face closer, brushing it against my cheek. “Why don’t we do a little fun experiment, and see if we can change this.”

“How so?” I asked, genuinely interested.

“Well,” Gerard started, bringing his foot back and reaching a hand down to peel off the sock. “I want a boy to enjoy this as much as I do. So if your father stressed you out when he’d expose his feet, why don’t we relax you as you take in mine? Move the ottoman and lie on the ground.”

Though I was uncertain whether I really even wanted to change this reaction I had, as feet weren’t even really something I was turned on by, Gerard’s confidence and decisiveness held a certain sway over me. So, despite any reservations, I lowered myself on to the ground in front of him. He angled his feet so they cupped my face. His flesh was warm and slightly sticky, likely from being trapped in those boots and socks for some time. Though perhaps I had some semblance of disgust feeling his sweaty feet touch my face, something about the feet touching my face being Gerard’s helped to reduce my disgust.

“What turns you on most, boy?” Gerard’s question was simple and to the point.

“Well I have been, uh, pretty vanilla before. So normally I just liked playing with a nice dick, Sir.” It probably sounded so boring to this man, but it was the truth.

“Hmph,” he grinned, “Well I have been told I have a very nice cock. So,” Gerard unzipped the fly of his leather trousers, “what do you think?” In an instance a beautiful dick was exposed already hard with a strand of precum trailing out of it and dripping down. After a moment it fell to my cheek, and for given how hot it was I finally noticed my own dick which was already hard. It had been hard for quite some time, I realized. Despite not being into leather or feet or domination, all we’d done this evening were those things and I was hard as a rock.

“It’s so fucking sexy, Sir.” I gasped upon seeing it. Gerard had a thick, slightly veiny shaft with a head that was around the same size as the shaft, creating a straight and consistent shape. There was foreskin that he gently stroked up and down the head of his cock.

“Mmmm,” Gerard moaned, “as delicious as your disappointment can be, I do think I enjoy that hungry look in your eyes even more.” As he said this, his right foot slowly rose to cover half of my face. “Don’t take your eyes off this cock, boy, and take a deep inhale through your nose.”

I did as he said and sharply inhaled through my nose. That musky, damp scent from before was now much more intense coming from his bare foot. However, as I gazed up at that beautiful, drooling cock, I felt my own only continue to strain in my pants as I breathed in the sweaty scent of his foot.

“It’s so sexy watching your dick press against your pants as you huff on my feet,” Gerard cooed. “I want to see your dick strain harder.” I was intoxicated by the sight of his sexy penis and gorgeous face grinning down at me that I was willing to do and try anything. “Tell me, do you enjoy having your nipples played with?” He maneuvered his left foot so it hung over my chest.

“I— I don’t know,” I admitted, my lips brushing against the bottom of his soles as I spoke.

“Hmph,” Gerard grunted playfully, his grin only growing wider. “Why don’t we find out.” With that his other foot descended onto my chest as his big toe gently brushed up against my exposed nipple. It was a little cold in Gerard’s house and so my nipple ended up being very erect. This had the result of the sensation feeling amplified as he brushed his toe against it, and to my surprise an immediate moan escaped my lips. “Mmm… I think someone likes this.” He grinned above me.

Gerard continued to gently flick his big toe over my nipple as he pressed his right foot into my face. Gazing up at him, I watched as he began to stroke his sizable dick, pulling the foreskin back and exposing the mouth-watering head. My mouth began to drool and instinctively my tongue slid out to wet my lips, inadvertently gliding across the sole of his foot. “Fuck,” Gerard moaned above me, his head tilting back.

Something in me stirred watching this. Although I was servicing Gerard and his feet because he enjoyed it, he was doing everything he could to make me enjoy it. And… I was. The pressure in my head and chest had gradually reduced in severity. Sure, Gerard’s feet still smelled cheesy and sweaty, and perhaps licking them was gross in some ways, but seeing Gerard’s head tilt back as a moan uncontrollably escaped his lips… It awakened something in me.

The first lick was unintentional and aside from the sensation, went unregistered on my end. However, without thinking any further, simply leaning into this moment and finally letting go, my tongue slid out once more with intention. It slid across the moist underside of his right foot, absorbing all the sweat that had built up in his socks and boots and as I retracted it and fully tasted the essence of Gerard… I found myself strangely interested. It was salty, as you’d expect, but it also had this earthy taste to it, similar to the scent, and as I was now piecing together likely from the leather he wears. It was altogether… enjoyable. Pleasant. Good, even. My tongue slid out again, wanting to explore this taste further.

“Oh, fuck, that’s a good fucking boy. Lick my sweaty feet,” Gerard ordered through groans of pleasure. With every lick, I could feel the twitch of excitement in his soles, hear the groans of lust escape his lips, and I wanted more. This man who I’d only met just today who had gone out of his way to show me so much kindness and attention, I wanted to make him feel good. I wanted to give back to him and then some. My tongue darted through a toe, and I could feel the collection of sweat stick to my tongue, bursting in its assortment of flavors. As if having a mind of its own, my tongue continued to weave through all the toes on his right foot, as Gerard stroked his dick faster. “You’re getting me so fucking close, boy. You want to see me cum? You want to make me cum?” I nodded without hesitation, moaning beneath his foot. “Get my big toe in your mouth and suck, and take whiffs of my feet.” He removed his left foot from playing with my nipple and moved it to my face as well, placing my nose right between his big toe and the second toe, as his right big toe invaded my mouth.

I took deep, deep inhales as my dick continued to strain in my pants. The faint pressure in my chest and forehead mildly returned as I breathed in Gerard’s dank foot aroma with my view of his dick now mostly covered and him no longer distractingly toying with my nipple. Despite this, I remained focused on wanting to please him. I wanted him to cum exactly how he wanted. So I swirled his big toe in my mouth as I grew lightheaded from huffing between his toes. Just as the pain began to become more significantly uncomfortable Gerard’s breathing hiked and he began moaning louder.

“Fuuuuuck, that’s a gooood fucking boy. Such a good boy deserves a reward for worshiping Sir’s feet. Fucking take my cum,” the words practically falling out of Gerard’s mouth as he quickly removed his left foot from my vision and his dick angled downward, spurting over my face. “That’s it. Take it.” As each jet of cum coated my face, I felt my own dick grow closer and closer to climaxing. Not missing a beat, once his own climax finished, Gerard reached down and scooped up his cum onto his thumb which was covered by his leather gloves.

“Take your dick out and stroke to me, boy.” I unwaveringly obeyed his command. “Savor my cum, stroke to its taste.” Gerard then invaded my mouth this his thumb, which I willingly let in. My tongue now exploring its new welcome assailant, tasting the mix of his cum, which was a nice mixture of bitter and sweet, with the earthy taste of the leather glove. I felt my eyes roll to the back of my head and could felt myself reach the precipice of climaxing as Gerard told me, “You can cum, boy. You have permission to cum.”

Instantly, shot after shot of my own cum erupted from my cock. “Unnfff… Mmmmphhh.” I moaned, sucking harder on his thumb, now likely completely clean of cum.

“That’s it,” Gerard mused above me, stroking my hair with his free hand, “You’ve been such a good boy.” I closed my eyes and enjoyed the sensation of my climax, letting go all the stress of the day, and weeks that had piled up before it. As I was basking in the sensation, Gerard gently slid his thumb out of my mouth and I felt something gently caress my face. I figured what it was and a light sniff of the air confirmed my suspicion that he’d moved his foot back over. Still savoring the moment, I embraced his gently nudge and turned my head slightly to the left and kissed his foot. “Someone clearly enjoyed this more than he thought he might, eh?”

Blushing, I opened my eyes and give a last peck on the arch before turning my head forward and looking into his eyes gazing down at me with his signature sexy, confident smirk. “I guess, it’s not so bad,” I giggled, watching as his smile grew wider in response to my laughter. “It was nice just…” I paused to find the words, but it seemed Gerard already understood me.

“Letting go of control? Letting me take the reins?”

“Y-yeah,” I nodded, slowly bringing myself upright. Turning to him, I continued, “My job requires the opposite from me. My entire life has been about me gaining complete control over everything. I never realized how… freeing it could be to let go of that control.”

“Oh it can be very freeing,” Gerard agreed, “At least, that’s what all of the boys I’ve played with have said in the past.” He stood up and raised out a hand to help me off the ground. I gently clasped his hand and rose to my feet. “Now, it is getting later and I never want to be a rude host, especially to someone as cute as you. Why don’t I make use some tea and we can talk more about your work. It seemed you alluded to having some problems recently. Perhaps talking about them will help.”

Yet again, Gerard was so kind and sweet, I almost felt a little guilty being treated so well. I’m not sure why, but I did. So my initially reply betrayed my own desires to take him up on the offer. “That’s sweet, but I wouldn’t want to burden you…”

“Nonsense. You aren’t a burden. Besides, let’s just say, I’ve taken a special interest in you compared to those other boys you heard me reference. I want you to stay. Do me that pleasure, would you?”

Once my face grew red and flush hearing such flattery from this man I’d only met a few hours ago. He truly knew how to turn me into putty in his hands, but… the deepest part of me was starting to acknowledge that maybe I liked that. “Oh okay,” I relented, trying to sound playful to hide my sincere delight and infatuation.

“Right this way then. And once we get settled in, you can tell me everything.”

-

-

-

Hello everyone, thank you for your patience. This is a long one, and I think it turned out pretty good, so hopefully that makes up for the delay. Originally this was written for Wade3435; however, I now see that he deactivated :( Still putting this out there as I think others may enjoy it and perhaps he’ll still keep an eye on my account without an account of his own (:

I know the image doesn’t show leather… there’s almost no good leather master pics (which was something Wade was interested in having tied into the story), so I made do with a hot guy with hot feet! Lol

I have another story being worked on that was the request of another user. I hope to get that one out soon as well! Despite leather not being my thing, this pic and the direction I took felt very inspiring which helped me to write as much as I did with this one despite being very busy. Like I said I hope you all enjoy it! Let me know your feedback if you did or if there are any changes you’d love to see in the future. This is a story I could probably keep going for a few other parts, at least. Enjoy (:

-

Carlos ambled into my office, a vision in corporate attire that somehow made him even more devastatingly attractive. His striped button-up was stretched taut across a chest that clearly hadn’t forgotten its military training, and his trousers… God, his trousers were waging a losing battle against the sheer, magnificent expanse of his glutes. We’re the same age, but his stint in the army after university meant he was junior to me here at the company. I was the one who’d pulled him in, hoping against hope that proximity would reignite the spark we’d briefly shared back in the day. Nothing serious, just a few drunk stolen kisses and some heavy petting, but it had been enough to permanently etch his image into my fantasies.

I’d known Carlos since our first year of university. We’d had a few classes together, and even back then, he had this quiet intensity that drew me in. While I was focused on internships and getting my foot in the door of the corporate world, he was talking about joining the army. It always seemed so far removed from my own life, but I admired his conviction. When he finally came back, a few years older, harder, and with a body that could stop traffic, I was already established in my career. We reconnected at a mutual friend’s barbecue, and I knew, instantly, that the old spark was still there, only now it was a raging inferno. I subtly offered to put in a good word for him at my company, a move I told myself was purely professional; I wanted that referral bonus after all, but deep down, it was a calculated risk. I wanted him close. 

He leaned against my desk, facing away from me, a picture of nonchalant confidence, and I found myself utterly captivated. Looking down at his laptop, he was talking about…something, but I wasn’t mentally present.  My eyes traced the taut fabric clinging to his thighs, the way his muscles flexed even when he was just casually shifting his weight. His ass, always a marvel, seemed to have expanded since we last properly… interacted. It was a perfect, sculpted orb of pure temptation. I was completely immersed, mesmerised by it. 

Then, a soft, almost polite PPPPPPFFFFFTTT rippled through the air.

It was enough to jolt me out of my trance. I scrunched my nose, feigning annoyance as the odour wafted in my direction. But inside, a little tremor of excitement shot through me. "Carlos!" I exclaimed, trying to sound put out.

He just chuckled, that deep, rumbling sound that always made my insides clench. 

"What, not paying attention, boss?" he teased, his eyes glinting with amusement. He knew, or at least suspected, the effect he had on me. He always had.

"I am paying attention," I countered, my voice a little too strained. "It's just… a little hard to focus when your ass is trying to escape your pants." I winced internally at the bluntness, but once the words were out, there was no taking them back.

His grin widened, and he actually flexed his glutes, a deliberate, slow movement that made the fabric groan. "Oh yeah?" he purred, a dangerous glint in his eyes. "You think it's gotten bigger?" Looking down at the fruit of his hard work in the gym. 

My cheeks felt hot. "It's… impressive," I managed, my voice barely a whisper. The truth was, it was more than impressive. It was an utter masterpiece.

He laughed again, a low, throaty sound that sent shivers down my spine. 

“It is pretty big, isn’t it?” Then, with a playful wiggle and a deliberate squeeze of his magnificent ass, another sound escaped him. This one was richer, deeper, a resonant BBBBBRRRRTTT that vibrated subtly through the air.

I groaned, a genuine sound of helpless surrender. It wasn't just the sound; it was the way the scent, subtle yet undeniably musky, began to waft towards me.

"See?" he said, fanning the air dramatically with his hand, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. "That wasn't even a bad one. I can go to the bathroom if you want."

My throat felt dry, my voice caught somewhere between a stammer and a plea. "No, no, you're fine," I mumbled, trying to project an air of nonchalance I was far from feeling. "Just… surprised."

He chuckled, that rich, deep sound that always sent a shiver down my spine. "Surprised, huh? You've always been so easily flustered by me, haven't you?" His eyes, dark and knowing, held mine, pulling me back to those heady days right after university. He remembered. He remembered the way I reacted to him, the way he could always fluster me.

He pushed off my desk then, the slight movement making his trousers pull even tighter across his magnificent ass. I watched, mesmerised, as he walked around to the side of my desk, his movements fluid and powerful. He came to a stop right beside me, his hip brushing against my shoulder as he leaned down, ostensibly to look at something on my computer screen.

His scent, a mix of clean laundry, a faint hint of his cologne, and now, the subtle, musky undertone of his farts, enveloped me. It was intoxicating, a dangerous cocktail that made my head spin. My heart hammered against my ribs, a frantic drumbeat against the quiet hum of the office. He was so close I could feel the warmth radiating off him, the sheer bulk of his body a powerful presence beside me.

"So," he murmured, his voice low, "what were you actually working on? Or were you just admiring the view?" He straightened up then, turning to face me fully, a smirk playing on his lips. His arms were crossed over his broad chest, drawing attention to the way his button-up stretched taut across his pecs. The fabric of his trousers pulled even tighter across his crotch, leaving little to the imagination.

I swallowed, my mouth suddenly bone-dry. "I was… preparing for the quarterly review," I stammered, gesturing vaguely at my monitor. It felt like a pathetic lie even as I said it. How could I focus on quarterly reviews when every fibre of my being was screaming about the man standing beside me, the subtle, lingering aroma of his flatulence filling my senses?

He just laughed, a low, knowing sound. "Right. The quarterly review. And I suppose that's why your face is the colour of a ripe tomato?" His eyes dropped to my lips for a fleeting second, and I felt a jolt go through me.

The tension in the air was palpable, thick with unspoken desires and the lingering scent of him. I wanted him to stay, to keep farting. I wanted to smell it. Feel it. But I was trapped, held captive by my own embarrassment and the professional facade I desperately tried to maintain. He was teasing me, playing with me, and I was utterly at his mercy. And in a twisted way, I loved it. I loved the way he made me feel, the illicit thrill of this secret obsession.

——————————-

The hum of the projector was a dull thrum against the excited buzz of the shareholders. Carlos stood at the front of the room, effortlessly commanding attention. He was in that perfectly tailored suit, a beautiful grey that only accentuated the raw power of his physique. But it was the back of his trousers that held me utterly captive. They hugged his enormous glutes like a second skin, each ripple of muscle visible, flexing subtly with every shift of his weight. It was a struggle to keep my eyes on the financial projections on the screen. My gaze, and I noticed, a few other pairs of eyes in the room, kept drifting to that magnificent, tightly encased ass.

He was a natural up there, confident and articulate, a far cry from the slightly awkward kid I'd known in university. He answered questions with ease, his military training clearly having sharpened his focus and delivery. He did well, exceptionally well, and I felt a surge of pride, mixed with that familiar, unwelcome ache of desire.

After the meeting, the room gradually emptied. I waited for Carlos, watching him exchange pleasantries with a few of the lingering shareholders. When he finally made his way over to me, a broad, triumphant smile on his face, I felt my own lips curve in response.

"Carlos, that was brilliant," I said, extending my hand for a congratulatory shake. His grip was firm, warm. "Seriously, you nailed it."

"Thanks," he beamed, his eyes sparkling. "Glad it's over, though. Public speaking still gets the nerves going, even after all that army stuff." He paused, then leaned in conspiratorially, his voice dropping slightly. 

"Actually, I'm just glad I got those farts out in the bathroom beforehand." He chuckled, a deep, easy sound. "Totally blew up that bathroom. God, it'll probably stink for hours in there." He shook his head, still grinning. "But damn, imagine letting rip during that. I'd be embarrassed forever."

My heart gave a lurch. My mind, unbidden, conjured an immediate, vivid image: Carlos, in the pristine executive bathroom, hunched over the toilet. His face scrunched in effort, a low moan escaping his lips as the sound of powerful, rumbling farts – a series of deep BBBBBFFFRRRRMMMMPPPPPP followed by a sharp PHHHHHWAAATTTTT – reverberated off the tiled walls. 

The air was thick and pungent, hanging heavy around him.

A sheepish, almost breathless laugh escaped me. "Haha… yeah…" was all I could manage. My dick gave an undeniable twitch. He had no idea the landscape of my inner world, the private, intoxicating fantasy he'd just unwittingly painted for me. The idea of him, alone in that bathroom, letting go, uninhibited and powerful, was almost too much to bear. The scent, the sound, the sheer primal force of it… I wanted to be there. I wanted to witness it. I wanted to smell it.

He pushed a hand through his hair, still oblivious to the silent battle raging within me. "Anyway," he said, pulling me back to the present, "fancy grabbing a drink to celebrate?"

My mind raced, the image of him in the bathroom lingering, the scent now an imagined reality. "Yeah," I managed, my voice a little husky. "Yeah, I'd like that." Maybe, just maybe, I could devise a situation where he'd be less discreet.

Due to his great performance, the company decided to put Carlos with me on the business trip to Spain. The airport lounge buzzed with the low murmur of conversations and the clinking of glasses. Carlos and I were settled into a couple of plush chairs, side by side. I was nursing a soft drink, trying to stay hydrated, while he was absolutely demolishing a plate of what looked like a full English breakfast.

"You know they serve food on the plane, right?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

He just shrugged, already halfway through a sausage. "Gotta fuel the muscles, always," he mumbled around a mouthful, unapologetically. That was Carlos – always practical, always hungry.

A few minutes later, our gate was called. We both started to stand, but Carlos suddenly plopped back down, a mischievous glint in his eye. A soft, warm MMMMMPPPPPHHHHFFFT emanated from the cushion beneath him, muffled but undeniably present. It was deep, resonating, and God, it was hot. He giggled, a boyish sound that sent a familiar tremor through me. "Some poor soul's going to wonder why their seat's so warm and smells faintly of victory," he whispered, clearly amused by his own prank.

I chuckled, trying to mask the surge of heat that spread through my own body. He stood up, stretching his arms above his head, the movement pulling his shirt taut across his impressive torso.

"Gosh, I'm so gonna be farting on that plane," he announced, as if it were a casual weather report. 

"Don't you wanna do that before we board?!" I asked, feigning concern.

He waved a dismissive hand. "Nah, don't worry. The plane engines are so loud, they won't hear it. Plus, doesn't the air get changed or something?" He grinned, then leaned closer, his voice dropping to a teasing murmur. "Besides, I'm next to you, so I'm sure you won't mind."

I let out a disbelieving chuckle. "Oh, really?" I replied, but inside, I was practically jumping with joy. The thought of being trapped in a metal tube for hours with him, knowing he was going to be letting loose… it was almost too good to be true.

True to his word, once we were settled in our seats on the plane and the roar of the engines filled the cabin, Carlos began his personal performance. Every now and then, I’d catch his eye. He’d scrunch his face ever so slightly, a tiny tremor would go through his body, and then I’d just know. Due to the overwhelming engine noise, I could barely discern the sound, but I could always tell it was a nice, big one, a satisfying release for him. He’d offer a small, smug smile in my direction, and I’d just roll my eyes, pretending to be annoyed, all the while trying to subtly adjust myself to hide the growing tent in my trousers. This trip was going to be an experience.

We disembarked into the warm Spanish air, the lingering scent of plane farts a distant memory, at least for me. Carlos, however, was already in his element. He hailed a taxi with a confident flick of his wrist, and then, to my utter delight, began rattling off directions in fluent, rapid-fire Spanish.

"¿Al Hotel Cervantes, por favor?" he asked the driver, his voice a smooth, deep rumble. ("To the Hotel Cervantes, please?")

The driver nodded, "Claro, suban." ("Of course, get in.")

His voice, already deep and resonant, took on a new, incredibly alluring quality as he conversed with the driver. Each rolled ‘r’ and crisp consonant sent a shiver down my spine. It was unexpectedly, ridiculously hot. He glanced back at me, a small smile playing on his lips, as if knowing the effect his linguistic prowess was having.

"¿Todo bien?" the driver asked. ("Everything okay?")

"Sí, perfecto. Gracias," Carlos replied, his smile widening. ("Yes, perfect. Thank you.")

The taxi pulled up to our hotel, a grand, old building with a stately facade. Company policy had us in separate rooms, but as luck would have it, we were next-door neighbours. Carlos, with his usual ease, rolled his suitcase into his room, flashing me a quick, "Buenas noches," before disappearing behind his door. I wished him a good night in return, trying to sound as nonchalant as he did, and then stepped into my own room.

It was a beautiful space, almost too big for one person. A king-sized bed dominated the centre, draped in crisp, white sheets, and a plush armchair sat invitingly in the corner. "It could totally fit a shorter, stockier, gassy man in here with me as well," I thought, the idea forming in my mind.

And then the fantasy began to unfold. I pictured us, coming back from a long, gruelling day of meetings, him in his tight suit pants, stretched to their absolute limit. He'd collapse onto the bed, utterly exhausted, and with a soft BBBBLAAAARRRRPPP or a deep PPPPHHHHWWWUMMMPP, he'd let out a substantial fart, the warm gas caressing the fresh sheets. Then, we’d cuddle. I’d spoon him, my front pressed against his incredibly firm ass, and he’d fart again, PPPPAAARRRRRRRPPPP the warm air hitting my lap, a low rumble against my stomach. The sheer intimacy of it, the raw, uninhibited release, sent a jolt of pure desire through me. The thought was so incredibly hot that I found myself jerking off alone in that luxurious, empty bed, the fantasy of Carlos and his glorious farts my sole focus. The intense rush of pleasure, combined with the exhaustion of the journey, quickly caught up to me, and I drifted off to sleep, his imagined scent still lingering in my mind.

I woke up the next day, the Spanish sun streaming through my window, and the haze of my solitary fantasy slowly dissipated. The day of meetings went smoothly. Carlos, once again, charmed everyone, flashing his fluent Spanish like a secret weapon. It was undeniably attractive, watching him effortlessly navigate conversations, his voice a rich baritone even when discussing quarterly projections.

The day was drawing to a close, and we decided on dinner at a local spot. Paella, rich with seafood and saffron, filled the air with its delicious aroma. We talked about the day, our lives, our work. It was surprisingly easy, just sitting and chatting with him like old friends. And wow, he looked good. The dim lighting of the restaurant softened the edges of his sharp features, making his eyes seem even darker, more inviting.

After dinner, we decided to take a walk through the plaza. Dusk was settling, painting the sky in hues of orange and purple. As we ambled along, a loud catcall echoed from a group of men leaning against a fountain.

"¡Qué paquete!" one of them whistled, eyes clearly on Carlos's rear. ("What a package!")

Carlos, slightly tipsy from the local wine, just joyfully jeered back in Spanish, a wide grin on his face. "¡Gracias, guapo!" he called out, a playful retort. ("Thanks, handsome!")

"What was that about?" I asked, feigning ignorance, though a part of me already knew.

He chuckled, "Oh, he's just interested in my ass." He turned his head to look at me, that mischievous glint in his eye.

"I'm sure many men are." I say. 

He paused, then added, "Yeah, well, not many can handle the full thing."

"It is pretty huge," I said, the alcohol giving me a sudden burst of courage. I reached out, my hand finding its way to that magnificent curve. I cupped a feel, marvelling at the firm, sculpted muscle beneath the fabric. "Damn, congrats, man," I added, giving it a light squeeze.

He looked at me, his eyes wide with a mixture of arousal and glee. My heart hammered. I stuttered, "We… we should probably call a cab back to the hotel. It's getting late."

Before I could pull out my phone, he walked a few steps ahead of me, his back to me. He shifted his weight, pushed his butt out just a little, and let out a resounding BBBRRRRAAPPPPHHHHTT, FFFMMMMMMMMPPPPTTT, FFFFRRRRRRRRRRTTTTTTTT that seemed to vibrate through the dusky air. He jiggled his butt playfully. "See? This is what I meant by saying most men can't handle it," he said, turning back to me, a proud smirk on his face. "Had to let that one out before the cab, otherwise we'd be kicked out."

I swallowed, my throat suddenly dry. "So," I ventured, trying to sound casual, "does the man you want to date… need to be able to handle your farts?"

He met my gaze, his smirk softening into something more thoughtful. "Well, it is a part of me, so yes. Not many can." He paused, then his eyes flickered down to my midsection, a knowing glint returning. "You seem to be able to, though."

A brief, charged silence descended between us. We drew closer, the distance between us shrinking with every breath. "Well," I began, my voice barely a whisper, "they don't smell that bad…"

His eyes lit up. With a mischievous grin, he cupped a hand by his crack, pushed his butt out slightly, and released another low, wet PPPPPFFFOOOOTTT. He then brought his hand up to my nose. I inhaled a deep, deliberate sniff, taking in the warm, musky scent that smelled like what we had just eaten.  My tent, which had been valiantly trying to stay hidden, now poked undeniably against his leg. He felt it, looked down, then slowly, provocatively, looked up at my face. His smirk returned, wider now, laced with triumph.

"Maybe you should call that cab," he murmured, his voice laced with invitation.

The ride back to the hotel was a blur of electric anticipation. The cab wasn't even a long drive, but you could have cut the sexual tension with a knife. Every bump in the road, every slight swerve, brought our bodies just a little closer, and I could feel the heat radiating off Carlos beside me. He somehow managed to hold his gas in the entire journey, a feat of self-control that only heightened the suspense.

We finally reached our floor, and I fumbled with my key card, my hands trembling slightly. The door to my room buzzed open, revealing the spacious interior. "Wow, your room is huge! I guess that means I need to work harder," Carlos commented, his eyes scanning the room.

"Well, in a couple of years you'll probably be promoted, so you—" I started, but he interrupted me with a deep, hungry kiss. My hands instinctively went to his ass, gripping the firm, muscular cheeks. He broke the kiss, a wicked glint in his eyes. "I meant that this bigger room will take longer to fully saturate with my stink."

With surprising strength, he forced my back against the wall, then began to grind his hips against my lap. I was quite a bit taller than him, so I had to bend my knees to feel the full, glorious pressure exactly where I wanted it. 

His hips rolled slow, purposeful, grinding his ass back into me, his thick, meaty glutes swallowing the bulge in my trousers whole.

Then…

BBRRRRMMMMPHHHFFFTTT.

A wet, heavy blast rumbled straight through those tight khaki shorts, bubbling over my lap like lava down a mountain. My dick jumped, twitching hard against his crack. I gasped into his neck. He chuckled darkly. “Mmm, you felt that, huh?” I could barely answer. He ground in again.

“Enjoy your dessert,” he whispered, looking over his shoulder, “and this cake.”

God, I was already leaking. I could feel the wetness building in my boxers. The fabric stuck to me, damp with need. Every time he shifted, I felt the heat from him wafting back. His scent was already creeping into my brain, fuzzing everything over. A low moan escaped my lips, and I immediately clapped a hand over my mouth, suddenly acutely aware of how thin hotel walls could be.

He kept going, his movements slow and deliberate, each grind stoking the fire building within me, punctuated with

BBBBBMMMMPPPPPPFFFFF

FFFFRRRRRRRTTTTTTTTTT

BBBBRRRRRROOOOORRRPPPPPP

I kept moaning, muffled by my hand, as a wild idea sparked in my mind. "Hey," I whispered, pulling my hand away. "Could you… Could you like, sit on the desk, facing me?"

He looked at me, a flicker of confusion in his eyes. "Like… how you were that morning of the shareholders meeting," I clarified, my voice a little breathless.

It clicked in his mind. A slow, knowing smile spread across his face. He moved to the sturdy desk, his tight purple khaki shorts straining as they were filled with his gassy, bubble butt. He assumed the position, facing me, his legs dangling slightly.

Then he began to fart, just like he had in my office. A deep, resonant PPPPPPPAAAAAARRRRRRPPPP— started, building in intensity. I couldn't contain myself. Mid-fart, I dove forward, burying my face eagerly into the plump valley between his ass cheeks, changing the sound of the fart to a delightful, muffled THWUMPPP. With both hands, I gave his cheeks a firm, appreciative jiggle. I pulled my face out briefly, gasping, "You have no idea how much I wanted to do this!" Then, without waiting for a response, I went back in, inhaling deeply, eagerly sniffing the warm, musky scent.

He looked at me, his eyes wide, a triumphant smirk playing on his lips. "I think I did," he murmured, his voice a low rumble.

We then moved to the perfectly made king-sized bed. He straddled me slow, swinging one thick leg over until I was pinned beneath him, throbbing. He stared down, lip bitten, hunger in his eyes. My hands found his ass again and that’s when he struck.

FFFFFFFFBBBBAAAAAAAAAARRRRRTTTTTTTT

A gassy blast erupted, hitting both my hand and my dick simultaneously. The heat….fuck…the heat rushed over my tip, soaked into my palm. I groaned, eyes rolling back, twitching beneath him.

“Enjoy that,” he growled, voice low and sinful.

I brought my hand to my nose, fingers still warm from the blast. I sniffed deep. And my dick twitched again, painfully.

I wasn’t gonna last much longer.

Soon after, our lips collided, hot, sloppy, desperate. Carlos’s hands cupped the sides of my face, pulling me in deeper, our mouths dancing somewhere between lust and raw need. His tongue slid against mine while his hips kept rolling, ass grinding hard against my dick like he wanted to break me.

Then…

BBBBBBRRRRPPPPPPPPPLLRRT.

A juicy one, thick and low, puffing out right between kisses. He didn’t even pause. He just moaned into my mouth, letting it roll out like a sigh of pleasure.

“Fffuck, I need to cum,” I gasped against his lips, eyes fluttering.

He pulled back, a wicked grin curling up one corner of his mouth. “Do you now?”

I nodded, almost pleading.

He turned, slow, teasing. The weight shifted off my crotch and suddenly I was staring up at it, his full, powerful ass lowering down like a goddamn throne. My mouth opened instinctively. 

He straddled my face fully, his cheeks spreading warm over me, his crack nestling against my lips. I felt his eyes on me, could feel the heat of his stare even through the thickness of him.

Looking down at my leaking, twitching cock, he muttered:

“Alright boss… cum for me.”

PPPPPFFFFRRRRAAAAAAARRRTTTTT.

BBBBBPPPPPPPRRRRRRTTTTTTT.

FFFFFFFHHHHHHBBBBBBBBBBBRRRRRAAAAAPPPPP.

They rolled out in waves, each one hotter, muskier, wetter than the last. I licked. I devoured, my tongue working over his hole, feeling every little tremble, every flutter of gas vibrating through me. The taste was vile and perfect.

My cock jerked. Balls tight. Then….white ropes shot out of me.

I came hard. My hips lifted, toes curling as I shot stream after stream across my own stomach, gasping against his gassy ass.

And above me, Carlos moaned, loud, feral, his whole body trembling.

“Fuuuckkkk,” he groaned.

He came too, the sensation of my tongue teasing his farting hole too much for even him to bear.

We stayed like that, me panting into his crack, him pulsing above me, both of us stinking, sticky, and so blissfully, utterly wrecked.

I woke to the insistent buzz of my early morning alarm, my hand blindly swatting at it until silence reigned again. I turned back, and there it was: the magnificent, undeniable view of Carlos’s huge ass, framed perfectly against the white hotel sheets. I couldn't resist. I leaned in, burying my face deep into the soft, warm curve, inhaling deeply. That faint, musky stench from the night before still lingered, a private perfume.

He grunted softly, shifting in his sleep, and then a deep, resonant BBBMMMMPPPPMMMM escaped him, the smell intensifying, filling my nostrils with his unique scent.

"Morning," he mumbled, his voice thick with sleep. "Enjoying the pillows?"

"Mmm-hmm," I hummed in response, my nose still firmly planted in his ass.

"As much as I enjoy you smelling my morning farts," he said, his voice now more awake, "We gotta get up, heading to the airport soon."

I reluctantly sat up, the scent of him still thick in the air. "Fuck, it stinks," I grumbled, a smile playing on my lips.

"Guilty," he chuckled, stretching languidly. The whole room, despite its size, certainly stunk of him.

I dashed into the bathroom and grabbed the air freshener, spraying it generously around the room. As I did, he started pulling on his clothes, his muscles flexing under the fabric. That’s when the conversation turned, shifting from the lighthearted to something deeper, something we’d both been circling since he walked back into my life.

"So," I began, my voice a little softer than usual, watching him as he buttoned his shirt, "about… this. Us."

He paused, his fingers still on a button, and met my gaze. His eyes, usually so full of mischief, were serious now. "Yeah. Us."

"I… I don't know what to call it," I admitted, my heart thudding a little harder against my ribs. "Back in uni, it was just… messing around, right? And then you left for the army, and I thought that was it. But then you came back, and then you’re here, at my company, and… last night." I gestured vaguely around the room, the faint lingering smell still a testament to our intimate hours. "It feels different now, Carlos. Like… more."

He finished buttoning his shirt, then walked over to me, closing the small distance between us. He took my hands in his, his touch warm and reassuring. "It is more," he said, his voice low, earnest. "I always had a thing for you, even back then. But I had to go. Had things to figure out. And now that I'm back, and we're… here," he squeezed my hands gently, "I don't want it to be just messing around anymore. I want it to be… whatever you want it to be. Something real."

My throat tightened. Hearing him say it out loud, admitting to feelings that mirrored my own, was overwhelming. "Something real," I repeated, the words feeling precious on my tongue. "Yeah. Me too." I looked up at him, a genuine smile finally breaking through. "Definitely more."

"Does that mean I can come and fart in your office more?" he asked, a playful glint returning to his eyes, breaking the intensity just enough.

SAPNAP SLAVE DIARIES - SLAVE 2

[everything is fake/not real tumblr don’t take this down]

Slave 2 - Sam (cock sucking/regular pleasure)

———

I sat at my desk, doing some notes for my college thesis due in a few days. It's been 2 months since i invited myself into Twitch streamer Sapnap's home - i can't say i hate it. I pause writing as i drift into thought. The other slaves are cool, i'm friendly with most of them, when they're not being used or face first into our owners pit or ass crack i talk to them often. They seem to like it too, we're all twink like and slim, and we get paid pretty well.

I knew it was my day, Tuesday, to worship Sap, it's turned 2:00pm and he hasn't seen me today. Our dynamic is slightly more free rein than the others. Whilst most of them had a certain task to fulfil for him - piss, farts, gaming chair - i requested something a lot more vanilla, as i'm probably the least perverted slave of the group. Sapnap likes to use me for basic pleasure, like sucking his dick, giving handjobs and or a facial. When hes not feeling too disgusting he likes to come to me, and i like to think that makes me special- i don't know. That's stupid to think, sexually, we're all pretty much scum to him. But that's besides the point, all things basic pleasure he uses me for, and that satisfies me. I remember filling out the forms to live here i consented to being pegged (anal sex) yet he hasn't followed through with that request, so maybe one day.

Whatever, regardless of all that, i wasnt feeling very dick-sucky today. I had been in a flow of my work for an hour and was kind of dreading when he would see me. I've yet to deny his request, it feels unreasonable. He rarely uses a slave if it's not their allocated day- he'll use you, come on, but he likes to focus on one slave at a time. That is except for weekends, Saturday is our orgy day of loyal worship, and sunday is our optional day off.

So, if he were to ask me to come to him and suck him off on one of these Tuesdays, that's all he usually asks for most of the time, including other perks. So not consenting to fulfilling out my day feels like i'm letting him down, as he will probably take that disappointment out on the next slave.

I had only just started writing again when my door barges open, the wood banging out a loud sound as Sapnap's smaller male frame storms into the room.

"Yoooo, Sam wassup. You knew i was coming in buddy, come on." he burps, pats his chests, and continues to walk around my bed towards my desk, "Oo, excuse me."

No, not now.. I cant be bothered, i have to get this done, it's so important. His hand peers into view on my desk as he turns and sits on it.

"Ignoring me today huh bud?" he kicks his feet, tauntingly, but i can't help but smile.

"Shut up," i smile at him, i have to admit, despite how he can treat us, he is so attractive. His fluffy fringe hides under his expensive cap, his scratchy beard coats chin and neck as it hugs his greedy smile. It's warm this month, so he's just in his large basketball shorts and white tee, i gulp down some butterflies before saying, "Hey you mind if you come back like later.. sir?" i squeeze in the nickname for submissive effect. "I'm so close to finishing this essay and i could do with another half hour, so.. after that my throat is.. literally all yours," i gulp, trying to negotiate, he was difficult.

He stays silent, that same cocky smile on his lips. "Hmm.."

That couldn't possibly mean anything good.

"What do you think i'm gonna say to that, Sam," he licks his lips, tasting his own power, i'm jealous of how good it must taste, he's loving this.

"Please, seriously i'll be as quick as i can.." i try, not sure how far i can push my luck from 'nice try kid' to a punishment.

Sapnap is already slumping off my desk, taking a post it note to the floor with his butt. "Yeah no, i've asked for you right now so you do what i say.. right now," he stands next to me, and i avoid eye contact, god it's like being back at school.

"Just come back in like 30 minutes, man," i say, scooting forward in my chair to begin writing again, before a hand sticks to my writing booklet, sliding it far to the left.

I was done for, i knew it.

"What? You think your fucking college essay is more important than your life here, faggot? You don't fucking need school, man," he says, now annoyed as he turns around, sliding off his shorts and underpants in one clean sweep to the floor. I watch in shock as he briefly turns his head to look at my work, before opening his gross crack up and sitting square on my booklet, the springs weakening under his weight as his large hairy cheeks melt over the pages.

I frown. That's fucking nasty.

"Hey- thats my work..-?" i say in disbelief before he's shuffling his legs to now sit infront of me, his limp cock hanging inbetween his big thighs.

"Yeah listen up, slave," he mutters, in a regular tone, which is arguably more scary, as he kicks his socked feet onto the arm rest of my chair, trapping me. "I give you all day to fuck around with whatever you want, you especially Sam, i use you for like- max 1-2 hours a day. Other slaves don't get that privilege, do you want me to stop that? Shall i take that privilege and give it to.. what, Slave 1, Slave 4 even?" he puts his hands behind him and thrusts his open hips, pulling my chair inwards with his feet.

I listen attentively with wide eyes, i haven't been scolded like this since i threw up on his bed from choking on his length too hard. Since then i've been as good as gold, but i guess that doesn't last forever. "No, Sapnap, thank you for that privilege," i say.

He doesn't respond.

"Now i can ruin your homework, fuck i mean, i'm probably staining a brown kiss into the pages as we speak," he grins to himself, and i glance down briefly, his smothering ass is eating my booklet alive. He sat his hole directly on top of the springs, each cheek taking up an entirety of each page.

"You want me to use your work as my toilet paper.. or what?!!" he shouts the last part and i flinch, shaking my head.

"No.. no please i need that," i beg.

"Fuck are you even learning about anyway?" he rides his ass up, trying to peak at the paragraphs of pages under his weight, it might just be the shadow, but i can make out circular sweat stains over my writing, with a dark stamp in the middle, i think i know what that's from. This asshole.

"Look, i know this shits important to you, so i'll let you have it, alright?" he smiles, his hands going to his privates as he toys with them in his hands. "If you follow.. every.. order.. that i have for you, yes?"

"Yes sir, i'm sorry," i lean in and rest my hands under his legs. Looking up his hairy tummy i meet his eyes, he's already spitting a blob into his hand.

"Alright," he pauses to burp, blowing it away. He was so gross, "Suck my dick, slave," he squeezes and twists his wet hand around his firm boner - pointing it at me.

I wrap my lips around his salty head and take him deep, trying to be quick. I could suck dick well, hell i do it multiple times a week for a living, so i tried to be thorough. This isn't so bad, to be honest i'm kinda enjoying it, i shouldve just complied. As i warm his length up and down, feeling it pierce the back of my throat every few seconds i feel him relax.

His thighs settle outwards, by his breathing i can tell he's closed his eyes, he loves this. My nose digs into his curly pubes and i get a whiff of his stink, not too strong today, and it makes me moan slightly. I wasn't pleased by most of Master's stink, his pits, feet and non stop burping gross me out. Yet something about his marinated pubes that frame his fat length make me tingle.

He comes back to life after a minute, and my neck is getting sore, i feel his hand rest on the back of it. "You know Sam, you're the only slave here that studies, i didn't take you for such a nerd when you first came here. Here i'll give you something to study," i can hear the smile on his voice as a squished, muffled fart is pierced into my study booklet. I grimace, fighting the urge to not bite off his cock, i had pissed him off, rightfully so, therefore i should probably shut up. Yet i can't help myself.

I take his length out my throat with an echoed gag, and his penis head rests on my chin. "Really? Me?" i say, spitting a drip of saliva down his cock.

He squints down at me. "Hey, you know how disgusting i am, don't think you're ever immune to my sweet ass, especially if you piss me the fuck off," he looks up, expecting compliance again.

I couldn't argue with that. I continue to deepthroat his length, staying with my face cuddled into his bush. He moans.

"Mpphh - that's what i want kid. You rarely annoy me but- you make up for it," i feel his titanium thighs close in on my head as he grips my hair. Then, he starts to power fuck my skull into oblivion to get his orgasm. In the whiplashing ecstasy of it all, sniffing his pubes with my nose repeatedly it reminds me of why i came here. To be treated like a slave. I fight the urge to touch myself as he exercises my throat, stopping with a few pounding hits as he squirts his cum into me as saliva spews out my throat.

He heaves heavily and catches his breath, resting against the wall as my head follows him, i rest with my throat around his length, face into his pubes.

After a few minutes his cock softens, and i sit back, wiping my mouth having swallowed his load. "Atta boy, for swallowing," he nods at me before closing his eyes again, and i squirm in my seat, he knew just how to tease.

"You let your worship come beneath your crappy school work again, i'll make you quit. Yes boy?" he says, serious. And i nod.

"And," he leans forward, his cock swinging infront of his drained balls. "I'll put you into a new school, writing essays about how to worship me, how much you love me and shit," he grins, i don't know how serious he is.

"Alright, i best get up," he launches off his hands as he sits up, his cheeks sticking to the page as it drops to the floor. He clambers off the chair and takes his cap off, standing next to me again.

In the middle of the pages, a brown starfish of muck sticks to the paper. Surrounded by a sea of butt sweat, you were so horrible.

"Regret that back talk now, don't you slave?" he whispers in my ear as i shiver. I close my eyes, "Very much," i respond.

He pats me on the back, chuckling to himself, so proud. "Lick it clean then buddy, come on," he utters.

I frown, shaking my head, but he's already got a grip on my hair and Sapnap shoves my face onto my work, my nose an inch before the brown stain. "Give it a good sniff," he commands.

I hurl, this is the exact shit i asked to be away from, yet here i am. I snort deeply, coughing to one side, the smell was raunchy and foul, so sour. "It's definitely your scent master," i whimper.

"Yeah? Give it a lick," he pats my back once more and i close my eyes before licking a stripe over the page, tasting little crumbs on my tongue. So gross. He pulls me back up with a grin. "Alright alright, i'll stop, i know you don't like that."

"Please, no more.." i wipe a tear, as he picks up the post it notes from the floor and grabs a pen.

I look at my ruined pages, what a mess, i can only blame myself. "I'll just tell my professor it's chocolate or something.."

"No, no, your gonna hand it in like that, buddy," he says, sticking a note on the page with his fingers, in scruffy hand writing it reads: "Sorry professor, i disobeyed my master and he sat on my work, please ignore his skid mark".

I sigh, and he starts chuckling again, he loves this. Ruining my life. "I hate you right now," i shut my book, turning my chair. He stops me and leans down, and i'm face to face with those menacing brown eyes.

"This is simply what happens when you disobey, slave, you did this to yourself, from now on are you going to be good?" he smiles, bored of this act. And i nod.

"Yes yes! I'm sorry," i blurt out.

"Good," he says, patting my head, "alright, i'm gonna go fuck around with slave 3, see what he's up too, kiss Master's ass goodbye. If you give me some weak, punk ass kiss you'll be doing this type shit every week."

I stop fighting it, thrusting his hips into my chin and digging my mouth into his crack. I kiss his hole deeply, threading a little tongue in. I sit back with a dirty mouth, why couldnt he have used someone to clean his butt today? Its rank!

"Ahh, see, you can be gross," he smiles, standing in his shorts and pulling them up, flexing his raw asshole to me as he bends over.

He laughs, "I'm just kidding, i know you hated that, next week, if your good, you'll be back to the regular, sound good?" he says, grabbing his bulge.

I smile in appreciation, maybe he really is nice. "Thank you Sapnap.." i say.