A Blue-Collar Fantasy Come True
by xratedtimes@yahoo.com
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I
wanted to share my recent good fortune as a foot fancier with
all of you, so
that you’ll know that even the kinkiest of foot and sex fantasies CAN come
true.
I’m a good-looking, professional gay white guy, under forty, and have always
done well with men. However, my intense foot fascination has often been
difficult to accommodate. Sometimes I’m with a guy I like, but he
might have really unattractive feet (which don’t interest me at all), he
might be very ticklish (also a turnoff for me), or just has major hangups about
his feet being touched or kissed at all.
As I got older, I started to wonder: Is it possible to find a hot guy than can
keep me sexually satisfied and let me live out my hottest foot fantasies at the
same time?
Although it took me a while to find him, I’m very pleased to say that the
answer is yes!
This is my story.
In my town, most guys know that for a quick, good, suck/fuck and go at any time
of the day or night, nothing beats the local adult bookstore. It’s
located (naturally) in the seedy end of town. It’s the stereotypical
porno shop, with foil on all the windows and the door, so no one can see through
it. Inside, it’s a pretty big place, with a large gay video/DVD section,
and in the back, 12 numbered coin or bill-operated viewing booths, with doors
that lock.
There seems to be a pretty steady flow of guys through the store; I’ve
been there at noon and I’ve been there at 3:00 am, and there’s always
a crowd.. As you browse the videos and get closer to the video booths, you
can often hear the rustling and light thumping of guys who have gotten together
and are groping, sucking, and penetrating, racing toward their own orgasms, behind
the locked booth doors. Sometimes you’ll even catch a faint moan or
whimper as one of the men ejaculates, and then the sound of them wiping up the
spent semen with paper towels.
I’ll admit that three minutes of sex while standing up in a video booth
isn’t my idea of the “ideal encounter”, but when I’m
extremely horny, it does the trick.
Last month, I stopped at the bookstore on one Saturday evening around 6:00. I
had been watching porn at home and I was out of my mind for some male-to-male
action. I knew that the bookstore was the place to go. It never disappointed.
I started cruising the gay video aisles. All of a sudden, I was standing
next to him.
I slowly looked to my left. There was a guy, in approximately his late ‘30s,
around six feet tall, wearing jeans, construction boots and a wool-lined denim
jacket. He had a sandy-blonde moustache and was wearing a faded baseball
cap. I caught a momentary glimpse of his eyes; kind of grey-blue. He
had a ruddy complexion, probably from working outside.
If this were anywhere else, you’d think for sure he was straight, on his
way home to his wife and kids. However, this rugged, denim-clad guy was
intently scrutinizing the gay porno titles. As I checked out his face, he
turned toward me and smiled.
My heart stopped! Blue-collar studs like this, I was sure, were totally
off-limits to me. I lowered my glance, and that’s when I first noticed
the sheer size of his work boots.
They were pretty battered and stained–testaments to the manual labor he
surely did–and around a size 13 or 14! My expert eye could tell, even
through the heavy work boots, that he had long, pink feet. I felt my crotch
stiffen immediately. For just a second, I fantasized about the smell inside
his boots after a long day at work.
The guy kept looking at me. I looked back. God, he really did look
like the protagonist in a bunch of my fantasies! Knowing that we had made
eye contact, he began heading to the video booth area. There was nothing
I could do; overwhelmed by lust and fascination, I followed him. My heart
was racing.
He entered the booth and left the door open. I walked in behind him. He
closed it behind me, and latched it. Finally, I was face-to-face with him. I
could feel his masculinity and arousal radiating from his body, filling the tiny
black booth. His face wasn’t beautiful, but rugged. He pulled
off his cap, and a bit of short, sweaty blonde hair tumbled out.
“ I’m Wes”, he whispered. “Hey...I’m Alan”,
I responded. My hand reached out and latched onto his crotch. His sizeable
cock was already rock-hard in his faded jeans. Suddenly I could smell him...he
emanated a heavy man-musk that was almost too much, but not quite. I could
tell that he had just gotten off of work. His hot breath was in my face. He
inserted a $5 bill in the video slot, and an all-male porno began to play immediately.
The next few moments were a blur of crazed, lusty positioning. He stuck
his tongue down my throat, and simultaneously I undid the front of his jeans
and mine as well. There was no talking needed. Once both our pants
fell to the floor, his hands on my hips turned me around until I was leaning
against the video monitor. He pressed against me from behind, almost like
a frantic dog. Oh god, this guy needed this--and so did I!
There was no time for lube, no time for condoms. I pressed back on to him,
and after a few seconds of fumbling, Wes’s straight, long cock found my
pucker. To my amazement, he pushed it up and through my sphincter, and all
I felt was a burst of supernatural pleasure as Wes filled me from behind. The
next thing I knew, his hips were pressed against my ass.
“ Oh god yeah, that’s so fucking sweet”, he hissed in my ear. Due
to the restricted space in the booth, our movement was limited. We stayed
for half a minute with his erect penis buried deep in me, not moving. My
hear was pounding; I was nearly out of my mind with pleasure.
Suddenly, I had an idea. This encounter was turning out to be simply too
hot to waste in a dingy, cramped video booth. I wanted this hot man all
to myself in my house. I couldn’t get my mind off those impressive,
giant boots, either.
While I was still impaled on his beautiful cock, I whispered over my shoulder “Hey,
could I invite you over to my place...we’d be a lot more comfortable than
here?”
Thankfully, he agreed. He pulled out, and we got dressed quickly. Avoiding
the looks of the other guys in the bookstore, we exited and Wes followed me home
in his pickup truck.
During the whole drive, I kept muttering to myself “Oh my god!”. I
had already had a taste of this man, and couldn’t drive home fast enough
to taste the rest.
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity (but was only about 7 minutes), we
parked in my driveway. Once inside the house, I led Wes over to my leather
recliner and asked him to sit, and prop the foot rest up. I brought him
a beer, which he gladly accepted.
So, there he was–reclined in my chair, footrest up, giant boots still on,
and looking at me lustily.
“ Wes, thanks for coming back here with me”, I said. “You’re
a really hot guy, and I wanted to be able to enjoy you”.
He smiled and nodded, and took a swig of the beer. I dropped to my knees
in front of the recliner. “I’m going to take your boots off,
OK?”
He nodded. I grasped his right boot and began undoing the laces. Wes began
telling me that he was a contractor, and was out at work sites almost every day.
Once I had loosened the boot, I began to pull it off. My erection throbbed
and my heart pounded again in anticipation. Without much effort, I pulled
the boot all the way off, and placed it on the floor beside the chair. Then,
I was facing the sole of his right foot.
He had thick grey wool work socks on. I just stayed there, motionless, staring,
my face only about ten inches from his foot. The long, hard workday had
done a number on his socks; they were smashed and moist, and a smell of heavy
man musk and warm leather hit my nose. I breathed in deeply, letting the
scent fill my head. Wes stayed silent, observing me worshiping his massive
feet.
“ Oh, god”, I whimpered. Wes growled “You like that, huh? You
like my big, sweaty feet?”
I truly was close to passing out. “Uh huh”, I replied, still
transfixed on that moist sock sole in front of me.
“ Well, take my other boot off”, he commanded. I did so, placing
it
on the floor next to its mate. Then, both giant grey-socked feet were in
my face.
I leaned forward, and buried my face in his soles. The heady musk was truly
intoxicating. Suddenly, I realized that I had been motionless for a good
minute, only breathing deeply.
“ Oooh boy, you are a little foot faggot, aren’t you, boy?”,
said Wes. Take
my socks off boy, and lick my feet...now!”
The fact that he was calling me “boy” turned me on even more. I
obediently peeled off his right sock, then his left. Now, I was facing his
bare feet.
I let a small grunt escape my lips. His feet were just as I had suspected...long
and somewhat narrow, a fiery pink underneath and a pale white on top. His
toes were long but proportionate, and for a manual laborer, his toenails were
surprisingly well-trimmed and clean. Due to his thick work socks, his feet
were actually quite soft. With his socks off, now I was getting the real
manly foot smell–the warm, meaty musk that we all know and love.
I lost control at that point. I fell forward again, this time devouring
his warm, fleshy soles and feasting on his manly toes, slurping and moaning. The
somewhat salty, warm taste was incredible. I was in another world.
I quickly stripped naked and returned to his bare feet. Wes seemed
both surprised and thrilled that I was such a willing foot punk. I was so
engrossed in his feet that I never saw him peel off his long-sleeved shirt, and
only briefly noticed him wrestling off his jeans.
Finally, I had my fill of Wes’s feet–for the moment. We still
had some unfinished business to take care of. Wes got out of the chair,
naked, and took me down to the floor. With me on my back, Wes pressed his
stiff cock up inside me again and, with my ankles in his hands, began slamming
me. My body trembled and heaved at the delicious, merciless penetration. Like
a man possessed, Wes fucked me vigorously, his balls slapping rapidly against
my ass.
Just when I thought that I had reached the highest possible level of pleasure,
Wes reached over and grabbed one of his sweaty work socks off the floor and dropped
it right on my face. The gamey man-stench filled my nose and mouth. I
looked up and saw him smiling devilishly down at me. “Smell it, fucker,
smell it!”, he grunted as he plunged into me.
Finally, the mind-blowing encounter reached its height. With a grunt and
a bellow, Wes slammed into me one last time, and let loose a white-hot volley
of semen deep inside me. The second I felt it splatter against my prostate,
my own cock began convulsing and exploding. After many seconds of groaning
and writhing, we fell silent.
“ You”, Wes said, breathing hard and looking me in the eyes “are
one
hot, freaky fuck!”
“ Right back at ya”, I responded.
After that intense day of sex and foot-worship, Wes and I established a routine. He
would stop by my house after work on Tuesdays and Thursdays. I’d kneel
and service his sweaty, tired feet, and we’d fuck like animals. We
also spent every Saturday and Sunday together, inseparable.
So, as you can see, even your wildest sex and foot-worship fantasies CAN come
true!
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