History Teacher's Feet
by MHFeet

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It was Friday, and I was so excited. Just last week I had lived something I fantasized about for so long, I was finally worthy of breathing in the beautiful aroma of my gorgeous history teacher’s feet, as well as my gym teacher’s feet.

I’ve been replaying that afternoon in my head all this week, and the each time I got to gym or history, I got a wink from each teacher and a smile as they signaled to their shoes. It made me melt every time.

Yesterday, Thursday, I got the reminder from Mr. Marren to come by the faculty room tomorrow. It was now Friday, and I was excited for what was to in store for me.

Once the bell rang, I waited until the halls cleared out a bit, so nobody would see me going to the faculty room. When I felt like I waited long enough, I knocked on the door to the room and Mr. M opened it. He let me take a step in, and once he closed the door, he pushed me down to my knees. I fell hard, but I wasn’t in too much pain.

“Stay on the floor, bitch,” he said, walking to a couch on the other side of the room. I was on all fours, and I got a good look at the room. I had never been in here before, but looking at it now, I saw what you’d normally expect from a faculty room, coffee makers, a refrigerator, and then the couch that Mr. Marren was sitting at.

Along with Mr. Marren were two other teachers, Mr. Grady and Mr. Horton, they taught lower grades, but I was familiar with who they were.

“What are you doing over there?” Mr. Grady said. “Crawl over here, we need to put our feet up,”

I made my way over to where they were. They stopped me in front of them and placed their feet on my back. I felt like I was going to collapse, the weight of their feet was tremendous, but Mr. Marren relieved me a bit when he took his feet off. However, he placed his shoes in my face and forced me to lick them clean.

Mr. Grady and Mr. Horton were both science teachers, neither of which I ever had. Mr. Grady was probably in his mid twenties, he had dark hair, always neatly slicked back. Mr. Horton was a bit older, at least thirty two. Anytime that I passed them in the hallway, I’ve always thought of them as attractive, and with their feet on my back, I was anxious to get a sniff of them.

When Mr. Marren was satisfied with my job, he slipped both his shoes off. At the same time, Mr. Grady and Mr. Horton lifted their feet, and kicked me down. I found myself on my back, looking up at three hot masters, waiting for their feet to be serviced.

“Take ‘em off, boys,” Mr. Marren said, playing with my nose and mouth with his socked feet. His socks were damp, and they smelled amazing as ever.

“Oh, these are definitely ready for you,” Mr. Horton teased.

“Damn, I can smell those from up here,” Mr. Grady said.

Mr. Grady was proven right when Mr. Horton got his feet closer to my face, then directly on top, giving me almost no room to breathe. The smell filled my nostrils heavily, musky and sweaty, and I loved every second of it.

At that moment, I heard the door open. Mr. Horton didn’t move his feet from my face, but I could tell that his attention was diverted from me to the newcomers.

“Just in time, guys,” Mr. Grady said.

“Woah, Horton, who thought your feet would be that rank?” I heard Mr. Larry say. “I almost feel bad for our slave!”

“Oh no,” Mr. Horton said, shaking my head with his foot, “He loves it. Don’cha boy?”

Under his socks I was able to murmur, “Yes sir, I love it sir,”

Each teacher had my face to themselves for a while each, and then my nose was open for anybody’s taking. Mr. Larry had propped his socks (he was thankfully wearing them this time) right under my nostril, and I inhaled it for what seemed like forever.

All of a sudden, there was another knock on the door. Even more feet for me!

“Am I too late?” I heard Mr. Sanchez say, my Spanish teacher.

“Definitely not!” Mr. Marren said.

“Good, because I need a good foot massage,” he said, joining the group.

For what felt like the next hour and a half, all five guys were leisurely rubbing their socked feet on my face. They were each wearing different socks, but my face was so covered that I couldn’t tell which belonged to whom. Each one had a different smell, but they were each great. The teachers even opened a couple beers and started talking about sports and life in general, enjoying themselves with me on the floor, being their doormat.

Mr. Marren was the first to address me, “Alright, bitch, it’s time for a game,”

“A game, sir?” I said, confused.

“We’re not sure if you’re worthy enough to lick our fuckin’ sweaty toes,” he said, “So you’re going to have to prove it to us,”

“How, sir?”

They each started to take off their socks, revealing their beautiful bare feet. Each one of them had a pair of flawless soles and toes, and I felt my penis throbbing harder and harder.

I didn’t pay attention to whose owned which socks, but I soon learned that I should have. “Your job is,” Mr. Marren started, “To pair the socks to the master, based on only the scent of the sock, compared to the bare feet,”

Oh, god, I thought. This shouldn’t be too hard, considering they each smelled different. I started with Mr. Marren. I took his bare foot in my hand, dug my nose in between his big toe and second toe, and took in a long breathe. The smell was amazing. I grabbed the nearest pair of socks, a dark navy blue pair and breathed those in, not a match. The next pair, a pair of black sheer socks seemed to be a match, and I placed those back on his feet.

I continued on for each master, breathing in the wonderful smell of each foot, almost making me orgasm each time, and then placing a sock on their foot. When I got done with each master, I asked if I was correct.

“No. Two of us are wrong. One more try, or your pathetic slave tongue will never taste our feet,”

I had to lick them, I just had to. I looked around to who I could possibly have made a mistake on. I was almost one hundred percent sure on Mr. Marren, Mr. Horton and Mr. Sanchez. That left Mr. Grady and Mr. Larry.

I went to Mr. Grady. I repeated the process, and the smell was so amazing that I had to smell it even longer. The heel, to the toes, my nose went, and it was fantastic. I smelled them for too long, though; when Mr. Grady’s other foot came slapping me on the face. “You have a job to do, slave, do it,”

“Yes sir,” I said, switching the sock that was on Mr. Larry’s foot to Mr. Grady’s.

“You got it,” Mr. Marren said. “Now lick our feet, bitch,”

I started with Mr. Sanchez. Mr. Sanchez’s feet were absolutely beautiful, I had stared at them once before during Spanish. They were thick and meaty, they had to be at least size twelve. He held them up to my face and pressed them against my lips. I kissed the bottom of his sweaty sole and it made my dick throb so hard.

Mr. Larry’s bare foot started to come over my crotch. I unbuttoned my jeans and slipped them off as Mr. Larry’s foot came over my boxers. A huge stain of pre cum had already soaked through them.

“Lick ‘em,” Mr. Sanchez ordered with a sinister smile. His toes were over my nose and my tongue started to taste the sweat off of his soles. With Mr. Larry’s foot rubbing against my penis, all it took was me to inhale the smell of Mr. Sanchez’s toes to get me off, and at that moment, barely touching my penis, I came in my underwear, what seemed to be buckets full. It felt amazing, my eyes were closed as Mr. Sanchez slowly slipped his toes in my mouth.

I got down on my back, still licking Mr. Sanchez’s feet. It was then that I was able to see that each teacher had already pulled their pants down and was stroking their dicks in the boxers. I moved so each teacher could put their feet in my face easily, and before I knew it, there were ten feet looking for my mouth clobbered on top of me. I kept my tongue out and mouth open, tasting and cleaning whatever came its way. The salt was very sweaty, but I loved it.

After about twenty minutes, I had realized that there were five pairs of pants along with five pairs of underwear on the floor around me. There were five, hot, sexy teachers above me (each with their feet on my face) naked! It was surreal.

“Ready guys?” Mr. Marren asked.

In a moaning voice, they all said, “Yeah,”

Then, they took their feet off of me and knelt around me. One by one, starting with Mr. Larry, each teacher blew their load on my chest and stomach, some on my neck or on the floor. They each came so much, my chest was covered quickly. The last to cum was Mr. Grady, and he had the biggest load of all. When they were all done, they got back on the couch and rubbed their feet freely in the cum.

Then, I was forced to lick all the cum off of their feet. The taste was absolutely amazing, the mix of sweat and semen was delicious.

“Get every drop bitch,” I heard Mr. Larry say above me as he slapped my face with his wet foot.

“Oh, yea, inbetween the toes,” Mr. Horton said, my tongue collecting all of the semen between his toes.

“He looks like he’s ready to cum again,” Mr. Marren said. “Turn around, bitch,”

I moved my body around, now naked, so they were able to caress my penis easily. I had just came, less than an hour ago and I felt like I was going to orgasm at least ten more times.

With my saliva and their cum as lube, each foot rubbed against my penis. It hurt, but felt amazing. Their feet touched the head of my penis, which felt incredible. Finally, after about ten minutes of rubbing against my penis, I couldn’t hold it anymore . I slipped into ecstasy as I orgasmed a second time, this time even better than the first. The cum shot over my head, and I thrusted my hips forward, even higher than I knew I could. I was in foot slave heaven, and I never wanted to leave.

However, I had to. After I came, and after a couple hours of some fantastic foot worship, we called it a day and cleaned up and got dressed. I was allowed to stand again, and as each teacher left, I gave their shoes one last lick clean and thanked them for a great session.

When it was just me and Mr. Marren, he asked me, “How was that?”

“It was amazing, sir,”

“Good, I’m happy you enjoyed it,”

“Should I come back next week, sir?”

“Actually no,” he said, writing on a piece of paper and handing it to me. “Come here at five,”

“Yes sir, I’ll be there,”

“Good. And be ready. We’re going to the gym beforehand,”