My Number One Weakness
by Greg Arias

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I thought I'd share a very recent story with you guys, that I'm sure you'll all enjoy.

First, a bit about myself. I'm a flight attendant for a major US airline, and fly mostly domestic. And, of course, I am a major male foot fan and have been since I was a toddler. I love the sight, feel, taste, and yes, even smell of a hot male foot, especially when it's part of a hot guy. While I love giving full service to a goodlooking guy's feet during a steamy encounter, I am also a bit of a voyeur, as I'm sure many of you are too. I love secretly watching guys' bare feet, feet in flip-flops, even totally closed shoes, trying to guess why their feet look like. However, my number one weakness is when goodlooking guys, especially strangers, wear slip-ons or loafers without socks.

That drives me insane! I've tried to analyze just why that is, and I suppose it's because it's such a tease--seeing that bare ankle peeking out of a shoe makes me fantasize about what's inside, plus it's really sexy to me that a guy would go sockless...I suppose along the lines of a guy not wearing underwear. I also pray that the guy will give me a thrill by slipping his shoes off in public, either partially or completely. When the stars align and that actually happens, not only do I get hard, but I nearly pass out! I'm a bit embarrassed by this intense fetish; not even my best friends know about it.

Well, you may not suspect it, but the job to have if male foot watching is your thing is anything related to air travel nowadays. Why? Because the TSA security screeners at all US airports require everyone to remove their shoes to pass through the checkpoint, and frequent fliers have gotten wise and have switched to more easy to remove footwear: flip flops, sandals, and yes, every variety of loafer, usually without socks, have become the norm from what I've witnessed daily. While most people consider the security checkpoint as a loathesome, time-wasting nuisance, I look forward to it because I know it's the place to watch cute twentysomething college students, and thirty- and fortysomething businessmen in their socked and bare feet, up close, and free of charge! I couldn't tell you how many times my heart's skipped a beat as I'm in that line about to go through the scanner, in front of or behind a gorgeous guy and I'm trying to not be too obvious looking down!

So back to my story...recently I was headed to my evening flight to Raleigh at one of the biggest airports in the country, and the terminal was really busy. A really cute, preppy-looking guy, probably in his mid-30s, was walking past me and I checked him out. He had on a baseball cap, a fleece jacket, khaki shorts, and sure enough...well-worn loafers, and no socks! My heart skipped its usual beat, and the guy kept walking, getting enveloped by the massive crowd and finally disappearing. Oh well, I thought...easy come, easy go!

Later, on the flight, once everyone had boarded, I walked through the full first class cabin, and sure enough, there he was, in seat 5C, on the aisle. He was casually stretched out and engrossed in a business magazine.

Then I saw it. His legs were stretched out under the seat in front...and he had slipped his loafers off and put them neatly together. His beautiful, boylike, meaty feet were crossed at the ankle just to the left of his shoes. His bare toes were slightly flexing up and down. My expert eye could tell they were slightly sweaty too; they didn't have that pink, dry look of freshly washed feet.

I know I froze for a second, staring at the hot and surprising scene on the floor. Without even turning his head, he glanced upwards at me and his eyes caught mine staring at his feet. My expression was surely one of shock. I hurried back to economy, embarrassed. Then I realized he probably thought I had been disgusted by his brazen shoe removal!

Well, during the flight, of course I had to torture myself by returning to first class every so often to check on him. His shoes remained off the whole time. The guy knew what I was looking at each time, as his eyes kept meeing mine with a look that said "Yes, my shoes are still off. So?" Once or twice I swore he even flexed his toes just for me, because he knew I was looking. Was he playing with me?

As the plane began descending, I was at the very front talking to the first flight attendant, and the guy got up to use the lavatory behind the cockpit (he had wisely slipped his shoes on for that trip). The other flight attendant left the cabin, and I waited near the lavatory, waiting for...I didn't even know. But I was playing on a hunch.

Finally, he came out of the lavatory. He paused at the galley, and casually looked at me. This was the first time I got a really good look at his face under the baseball cap. He had medium-brown hair, blue eyes, and a great, deep tan that told me he was probably a golfer. While not "gorgeous", he was definitely good-looking.

"Hey, so you guys done when we get to Raleigh?" he asked. Trying to be cool, I looked him in the eye and said "Yep, sure are...it's been a long enough day!"

He looked down the aisle into the dark economy cabin, toward the back of the plane, and back at me. "You up for a visit at your hotel room tonight?"

My heart stopped. Was this really happening?

He smiled casually. "I think I know what you like. It's yours if you want it".

My cock jumped to attention, and my face flushed. I laughed nervously. I decided not even to try saying "What do you mean?" He was fully aware that I had been checking out his feet...and apparently he liked it.

I told him quietly that we were staying at an airport-area hotel, and that I'd call him as soon as I got to my room. He slipped me his business card--Mark Johansen, Vice President of Sales--and said he'd drive over from the airport.

Of course I was freaking out during the landing and deplaning. One of the other crew members asked me on the van to the hotel if everything was OK, since I seemed preoccupied and suddenly quiet. I assured them that I was fine. Oh, was it ever fine!

Once in my room, my fingers nervously fidgeted with my cell phone, but I made the call. Mark was just getting to his car from baggage claim. I gave him my room number and the hotel address, changed into shorts and a T shirt...and waited.

Ten minutes later there was a knock on my door.

I opened and he came in, with that same cocky, casual smile. He reached out, grabbed my chin, pulled me close, and gave me a decent, manly kiss. Then he pulled away.

Without taking his eyes off mine, he pulled off his fleece jacket, leaving on his blue polo shirt, and threw it on the bed. Then he lay back all the way, pulling his baseball cap off and running his hand through his hair. His loafers were still on.

"Go ahead boy...I know what you want" he directed.

My heart pounding, I knelt next to the bed. The soles of his well-worn loafers were in my face. Mark was looking right at me with a combined look of control and interest.

I reached up and took ahold of his right shoe first, pulled the heel forward and it easily released. I pulled the shoe off and set it on the floor by the bed. I did the same with the left.

There they were, inches from my face; those beautiful, meaty, tanned, boyish feet. I gasped a little as I reached out to touch them.

"Yeah, that's fucking how to do it boy!" he growled, keeping his feet still.

I examined his soles in the soft light of the hotel room. They were smooth and soft, with just a slight brownish smudge from being in the leather loafers all day. His toes were thick but pretty, his nails neatly trimmed. Then I breathed in.

I could smell the manageable musk of a hot man's feet that had been in (and out) of quality leather loafers all day. It was just enough to let you know they were there, not enough to be a turnoff. My cock was possibly harder than it had ever been, throbbing, and jumping in my shorts.

"Go ahead, lick 'em boy", he said with an evil grin.

I leaned forward until the ball of his left foot was against my chin. It was warm and soft. I took his big toe in my mouth and began to suck. The taste was incredible; fleshy, salty...manly.

"Yeah, that's it" Mark said, and I heard his khaki shorts being unzipped.

I became lost in the moment, this cute guy's feet in my face and mouth. Almost in a frenzy I began hungrily running my tongue up and down both his soles, between his toes, and Mark egged me me.

"Aww you fucker, you FUCKER!" he said, his fat, cut cock now out and at full attention, and getting stroked energetically by his right hand.

Once his feet were soaked in my saliva, my mouth hummed with the their tangy taste and I was dizzy from the intensity of what was going on, Mark got up off the bed and got behind me. I heard the rustling of clothes being hurriedly removed and dropped...and then he was pressing against me, his rock-hard cock against my ass crack.

"Get those pants off, fucker!" he commanded.

I pulled my shorts off and he removed my T shirt. Still standing up, I heard him spit in his hand, then the head of his cock expertly find my hole. My body shook from ecstasy; I was no longer in control.

His wet cock moved about an inch into me and my eyes opened wide. I touched my own erection but knew I was far too excited to even cum.

Mark got me on all fours on the bed, then slid further into me. Once I opened my eyes, his loafer was being held up to my face.

"Fucking smell it while I fuck you, boy!" he commanded, shoving the musty loafer hard onto my nose and mouth.

It had been a while since I had gotten fucked, so it was both pleasure and pain as my unprepared ass tried to cope with Mark's fat cock jamming as far as he could get it up me. Finally, all the way in, the head of his cock pressed against my prostate and I saw stars. I felt my cock jump and begin leaking; I moaned and writhed, and Mark knew he had me under his command.

I fell foward face-first onto the bed, my nose still buried in his loafer, and Mark kept slamming me from behind.

"Aww fucker, FUCKER!" he kept saying, to the rhythm of his thrusts.

Finally, after the hotel bed's creaking reached nearly embarrassing noise levels, I heard Mark's breathing quicken along with his thrusts.

"God...fucking God...oh fucking GOD" he spat. I felt his cock stiffen, widen and begin spasming, and I knew he was coming deep inside me. The steady, pounding stream of his hot semen set off my own orgasm, splattering the floral print of the hotel's bedspread with volley after volley of white cum.

Eventually, our loads shot and my hole twitching from abuse and ecstasy, we composed ourselves and hung out, naked. Mark admitted that he absolutely loved when guys would service his feet, but that he almost never could find anyone that agreed to, most of them saying it disgusted them. I assured him that, whenever in Raleigh, I'd have my face up in his soles as long as he wanted.

I fly there often, and I can assure you that Mark's feet now get all the attention he can handle, as my ass takes a now familiar and very welcome pounding and seeding. He also still has that pair of loafers, now even more worn and musty...that remind us of that fateful flight when we met.