My Obsession
by Çagri Aydin

<< Back to Stories Index

Dear lord I really don’t know where to start… Guess it should be the beginning…


Part 1

It was just another manic Monday at work, honestly a sleepless Tuesday morning.

Back in those years I was working as a writer, in Turkish issue of the teenage music magazine B. Unfortunately our media group was in deep trouble with the effects the economic crisis of 2001. By the start of the New Year they fired 3 of the 5 writers, also 1 of the 2 graphic designers with many other employees. Office was such a quite place for the last 2 months considering we were only 3 left from 7.

On the other hand job remained the same. So that we had to work twice more than before. Normally the week before publishing would be manic; imagine it with only 3 people. That was the new definition of hell for us. Anyway it was already 4a.m. Tuesday morning and we had to finish the magazine by Tuesday morning. 3 of us, the slaves actually we called each other, spent almost all the weekend and Monday in our dark office located at the 2nd basement floor of the building, which had no windows. By the time clock told us 4a.m. I finished writing my last interview, luckily I didn’t have any other work left to finish. But girls, other writer and the graphic designer didn’t seem as luckily as I was. So I said:

“Girls, it’s all over for the unknown soldier. I’m gona bring you tea or coffee and help one of you if you need”, since they fired the lady bringing us tea or coffee, we were helping ourselves with this issue too even in regular working hours.

“Tea for me Emre, and thanks a lot for the offer. But I’m almost done too, just an hour or two, but I think Buse can use some help.” Buse is our graphic designer. Since I have no experience with Photoshop or CorelDraw she was using I had no idea how I could help her.

“Emre, I don’t want coffee, bring me vodka, tequila whatever, after this hour, I need a miracle to finish.” I smiled:

“Common girl! You’re gona finish don’t worry. Listen if you really need, I can bring a bottle of vodka here; there’s a 24 hours open liquor shop at the corner of the street. Before Buse, Emel jumped on this idea.

“Emre! You’re an angel, it’d be great.”

“Will you do that? I’ll be grateful honey.” said Buse. I like these girls, since our other colleagues fired and more than half of the office is empty, and we have more hours to work in the office, we’ve got closer. I was 34 years old; they both were just new graduates by the time. They both knew I’m gay, and we used to gossip non-stop about anything. They were always ready to listen to my extra 10 years experience in both work and men. So instead of coffee I came back with a bottle Smirnoff in 5 minutes.
“Girls, you’re gona buy my first cocktails next Friday!”

“Sure!” said Emel turning back to her monitor with a full glass in her hand. First Friday of the month as a magazine’s tradition we always go out together.

“Tell me Buse, if there’s anything I can do for you.” I was begging god for her to say no.
“Common Emre I know you have no idea about Photoshop, you’re extremely tired. Go and sleep for me too.” what a sleep, driving back home, shower, waking up at 7:30 to be back at the office. Sorry, where are the long hours to rest my tired body? Did I miss something in between?

“Ok, you know better, I’m not gona beg you”, I said, took my car’s key and heard a loud ‘pfffff!!!’ behind me as I open the office’s door.

“I totally forgot that!” She said. It was a job I could do, as I figured from the tone of her willing voice, so I turned back:

“What did you forget baby?”

“Winners of the puzzles. Pfff! How I forgot it? Emre, please, can you choose the winners, please I’m begging.” I sat back in front of my computer, we have two puzzles on last pages. From the easier one, we give 3 t-shirts from Billabong; price of the difficult puzzle is 3 pairs of Vans shoes. Since they fired the office boy doing this kind of errand, Buse was taking care of all that stuff.

“Ok Buse, tell me how can I choose the fucking winners.” she walked to my desk.

“I just forward the mail with address info of the winners”, she was so sure I’d help her.

“It’s easy Emre. The policy you will follow is cargo money. You will send one t-shirt far from Istanbul. One pair of shoe, 200 miles circle of Istanbul. Shoes are heavier that it’s more expensive to send them. Rest of the things, you have to send in the circle 30 miles around cargo company so that we’re not gona pay with the campaign of the company. If you can’t find people living in this circle, you must send them not far than 100 miles circle. I’ll also forward you the names that won in last 6 months, they shouldn’t win again ok.”

“Ok. I only wonder how they found this crap cargo company”, I said. How many winners could there be to read, it’d be easy, I thought innocently, but actually it was 1647 winners. I was about to scream. I knew I had to check them all. Because those years our fucking editor was checking every small detail you could imagine. If this crazy woman finds out I couldn’t use the campaign of the cargo company when we could, she’d find her reason to fire me also. You think I’m exaggerating; but unfortunately I’m not. My last colleague was fired because of crème amount he used in his coffee. That was a hard time in Turkey and we could do anything to stick our jobs, no matter how much they sucked. Not to mention we weren’t going well with our editor, who thought she’s something else, but in fact she was just the spoiled bitch niece of the media group’s biggest partner who publish the magazine. World is no fair sometimes. I also took a big glass of vodka before I start and I cursed our editor and the crappy cargo company she found.

First of all I deleted all the names, addresses or sizes specified. Then I choose the two far lucky people, and delete the rest out of Istanbul. When it was 6 o’clock in the morning I only had 396 names left. This was the hard part. I had to check all the areas if they’re in the circle of 3kms. I was going better than I guessed, in half an hour; I gave everything except a pair of sneakers. Sneaker puzzle was harder, so it was harder to find the lucky name in the circle of 3kms.

Anyway, I was completely bored and angry with this stupid fucking puzzle, when I saw the winner took all my attention. Location was out of the circle, but one thing just froze me. Foot size: 16... I told you I’m a gay. But most charming part of the man for me is his feet. Especially ones with huge feet. I love to be under control of huge muscular man. I love him to use me the way he wants and be his slave. Foot size 16. What would he look like I thought? Must be gigantic.

I’d disappear under these feet. I’m just a small guy 5’6’’ and, my looks are nice, I’m a natural blonde with green eyes and my body is well worked out. I know I’m gorgeous for someone who likes a compact handsome blondie. Anyway it was one thing for sure I could put all my head in his huge sneakers. I just imagine how his big socks smell. My pathetic small mouth wouldn’t be enough to take his both socks at the same time together. I wanted to be his slave. I imagine him walking all over my body and breaking all my bones, as my eyes closed in ecstasy.

“Emre! Wake up! It’s 8 o’clock!”, it was Emel, shaking my shoulders to wake me up. I fell asleep thinking of this mystery big foot teen. I didn’t even know if he was a teen, I had no idea if he was handsome, if had a nice body. Maybe he was fat, worse so skinny like a sick man. Maybe he was so ugly. “Emre, man, it’s almost morning, I’m going for breakfast, do you wanna come with me.”

“Ok, Emel, just wait 5 minutes, I slept before finding the last winner, when I find it I’d be free.”

“I’m going Emre, after 18 hours I can’t stand breath in this office one more minute, find me at Green Corner.”, it was a nice café close to our office, where we had breakfast after these kind of long nights. When the clock said 8 past 10, I found the last lucky guy, his feet were size 12. Actually, I didn’t send any of the shoes to the girls. I’m kinda evil in this. Before deleting the e-mail with the list, I just wrote on a piece of paper big foot man’s e-mail and home address. I didn’t want to keep just one e-mail or forward it to my personnel e-mail address, knowing that the bitch editor can check all the mail traffic of the magazine. I was known as a gay. But nobody had an idea I’m a submissive foot fag. They know about my boyfriends, but not my masters. Actually I didn’t have a good master, since the last one moved to Izmir. It’s not fair guys; it’s full of slaves like me, but very few dominant men. Anyway, Buse was still in trouble:

“Buse are you gona come with me or...” she didn’t let me finish my sentence.

“Thanks Emre, but I can’t leave here yet. I have to finish one day’s work in an hour.” I didn’t keep on asking. But it was sure some pages’d look crap next month. They deserve it; poor girl was doing 2 people’s work for one salary. I think I helped her a lot, so I left the office and met with Emel at Green Corner, we enjoyed the warm April morning in the garden with hot tea. We were extremely tired like the end of each month, but we still had a working day 9 hours long in front of us.


Part 2

On Thursday, after work I got back home.

I didn’t look like a zombie like Monday night but still too tired for gym. So I got back to my loft directly from work. I ordered a tuna sandwich for dinner, thinking of the cute delivery boy. There should be a way to make him walk in my loft. I was trying to find a logical way to persuade him massaging his size 11 feet, probably smelling perfect in his well worn Adidas Sambas. Guys I didn’t have someone in my life more than 2 months. A friend of mine used to say, after a point any man looks sexy. He is right. I turned on my computer to check my e-mails waiting for my dinner. My mind was at the big foot man again. I had the e-mail and home address of one of the biggest feet man in Istanbul. But I could do nothing.

All I wanted was to communicate with him. So I start thinking to find a way to meet him. Magazine would be on the shelves on Saturday, so I still had time. I sent him an e-mail, telling that he won the shoes, but we didn’t have his size, so that we’d happily deliver him 2 t-shirts from Billabong instead of sneakers. My plan was simple. I’d buy 2 xxl t-shirts from the shop, and took them to him like the cargo boy. It was crazy, but I couldn’t take him out of my dirty mind. He turned into an obsession for me and I had to see him in real, talk to him and touch him. Touching his warm feet in sweaty white socks. Touching them with my lips. Maybe I’d be disappointed, but I desperately needed to see him in real. In half an hour I had a reply. I read the e-mail; my heart was trembling like a high school boi. Actually, I was hard:

Dear Mr. Motherfucker Emre Sunay,
It’s better if you show those t-shirts in your asshole. I need god damn fucking shoes, do you know how expensive to order it from net?

Volkan Elzan

That was the mail. I was more and more curious for this cruel man. I was only thinking this huge man standing in front of me, and I’m begging him to forgive me for my stupid t-shirt offer, kissing under his huge smelly soles. Of course he couldn’t find shoes in Turkey. Awful truth my ex-master who had size 13 feet had to order shoes from some other country because most Turkish men have extremely small feet and dicks as well. Actually with some god like exceptions.

So this guy with size 16 feet had no chance but to order shoes from net, paying the money of 3-4 pairs for each. I explode in my hands with this fantasy and fell asleep on the chair my head on my lap-top writing pages of letter b. I woke up in the morning, all my bones hurting from my uncomfortable sleeping position. It was finally Friday.

After work, I went for dinner with my colleagues, and we went to an alternative live music bar after dinner. Around 3 o’clock girls went back home but night was still young for a cock and domination urging fag like me, so that I took my way to a gay bar alone. Unfortunately it wasn’t my lucky day. Only a guy even shorter than me was interested in me. He was also fat. I wanted to break my Martini glass on his and cut his throat with the pieces, but I kept myself thinking of the regretful years in a jail cell. At five o’clock I was in the car park, little tipsy trying to find the key. Before the key I found the piece of paper I wrote the address of the big foot man. He wasn’t living much far from the bar. The idea flashed in my mind at that moment.

It was Saturday.
A young man would leave his apartment and go out after morning time, that was one thing for sure, and I wouldn’t miss a man with 16 foot size. So I drove to his street, parked my car, watching the building for him to get out. It was only 6 o’clock but I had to see him in real. I had no idea but I’d wait even days long without blinking my eyes until I see this big foot man walking on the street. I still have no idea why I was so obsessed with him. Guys I have to admit, it’s such a hard thing to wait and do nothing, especially when you’re sleepy like hell. At the end of 2 long boring hours, the door opened, man, I couldn’t be wrong. I pinched my arm to see if I slept and dreaming. I wasn’t. A gorgeous man just got out of the building and walked in front of my small Suzuki Cappuccino, he was too huge to drive my pathetic car.

I thought he could crash my small car under one foot when I’m still in it, what a nice way to die. He was over 6’6’’. Coal black short hair, sexy goatee that makes him look manlier. He had a black leather jacket going perfect with his dark skin; I imagined his body would be perfect as his handsome face. I’d look like a small pebble on his chest if he takes me in his hug. I think if I stand near him, I wouldn’t be higher than his chest. But I prefer to be on my knees, if I’d ever be with him, or just lay on his way for him walk and make me flat like a piece of paper under his huge feet. He was wearing dark brown Timberland boots, suede well worn and little dirty. I wanted to brush them with my hair, when he’s still wearing them. I could melt in my car. After he walked around 30 feet, I left my car. I was just like a small fish following a shark. Actually we’d look like that if we were together. I had to be quite, because street was totally empty so early on a Saturday morning, what was he doing, so early I thought, and he opened the door of a Toyota Avensis. It was a yellow cab. I got back to my car as quickly as I could. He was a taxi driver. He started his car and we left our parking spaces at the same time. I was just hoping he wouldn’t see me.

After 5 minutes driving, we came to local taxi stop. He left his car, walked to the kiosk for drivers. He was working for this stop, called “Yellow Lightning”. What a stupid name I thought, and I drove back home. I was extremely tired. Before sleeping I thought about him as a soldier and me his enemy begging for mercy...

I woke up at 6p.m. took a shower. I had some messages from my friends inviting me to some parties or shows. I rejected them all. I had a light dinner, and took my car. I drove to the street where this big foot god works. I was so excited guys. I sat at the café across the taxi stop. His car was 5th at the line that time. I ordered a latte, waiting for other drivers leaving the stop one by one for their customers. Each time he got out of the stop and drove his car to the beginning of the line. My lord, he looked awesome. After 25 minutes, last taxi in front of him left.

I paid the bill and walked to the kiosk. My knees were shaking. I opened the door. He was right across me. His jacket was off; I was speechless with his perfect body, under his tight white t-shirt. I was expecting a good body from a young man, but friends, he was perfect. His huge left foot was on a chair. Sometimes chairs are luckier than us. I couldn’t talk for 5-10 seconds, maybe even longer. All drivers were watching me like I’m a green Martian.

“I need a taxi”, I said finally. What a stupid sentence it was. What would I need if I go to a taxi stop; a pink elephant? Actually I needed to service his feet, not a taxi. He stood up:
“I’m next, let’s go.” he said with his warm manly voice. Seeing him closer he didn’t look older than 20 years old. I let him pass in front of me; he was too tall for the door.
We sat in his Avensis; I was at the front seat. He was also tall for this car, customers wouldn’t be able to sit behind him, and the space could only be enough for a child. He caught me looking behind and smiled, my lord, I was just a piece of meat.

“Hehehe, I know I’m way too big for this car. Actually it’s not mine, my brother’s. But he’s sick today, so I’m working instead of him today. Ok man, where’re we goin?” I was speechless again, it was a question I didn’t think before, I was so stupid, and probably watching his face so meaningful like a gold fish. “Hello!” he said aggressively. “Are we gona sit in this car all nite long. I turn on the taximeter now!” he sounded so mean suddenly.

“Airmall”, I said. I was so charmed that I couldn’t say airport, and I said airmall.

“Where?” he asked normally.

“Sorry man, I mean airport.”

“Which one?” I watched him with meaningless eyes, I forgot Istanbul had 2 airports at that moment.

“Ataturk or Sabiha Gokcen, which airport!”, now he was angry.

“Sabiha Gokcen I said”. It was much farther, and suddenly I remembered I didn’t have enough cash with me, but once I told and we were already on the road. Well I could be his slave instead of paying money. I smiled to myself. He turned on the music; it was unexpectedly good music, especially for a taxi driver. But it wasn’t so unexpected, he could solve the hard puzzle of the magazine, he wouldn’t be empty.

“Morphine!” I whispered. He was playing ‘You Look Like Rain’, one of my favorite songs.

“Do you know this band.” he asked, it was time for him to be surprised.

“Well, I do, actually music is my job. I’m working for B. magazine.” I wanted to make him little angry. But his temper was really unexpected for me. We stopped so sudden, leaving half of the tires on the road, and he caught me from my neck, I was rock hard.
“You work for this shit magazine!” he barked.

I nodded my head as an answer. Lord his fingers could come together behind my neck. “I won fucking shoes from your shit magazine and you don’t send it to me.”, he softens his big hand surrounds my neck, very sexy, hairy, manly hands with beautiful nails cut short. His feet must be perfect I thought.

“What a coincidence”, I said. “I’m Mr. Motherfucker Emre Sunay.”, reminded him the mail he sent me the day before. His eyes were angry again from his temper. He had the most beautiful brown eyes I’ve ever seen in my life. Deep and big. “Don’t be angry please. We cannot find your size in Turkey, they don’t import bigger than size 11. It’s not possible man. Believe me.”, he smiled.

“I know he said. Me and my big feet. You know how hard to find shoes with this size. How can you know, you don’t have this problem.” problem, I thought. Or godly. Good is, I had chance to watch his big feet on the pedals.

“With these feet you have I’d charge you twice if I were your foot masseur.” what did I say! Man my face got red as he watched me with his beautiful eyes.

“Do you have a red Suzuki Cappuccino?” what was this question now.

“Yes, but why you ask it?”

“I don’t think you’re in my taxi by coincidence.” He laughed and I didn’t find a word to say. I was just red. “No boy, I remember now. Of course I saw you this morning. You were waiting for me in the street, in front of my door. You knew my address from the e-mail I sent to your fucking magazine. You were so obsessed with my size 16s, so you came to my street on Saturday morning to see me in real. Then you waited around the stop, until my turn comes, common you’re not going to the airport, or what you said, airmall?”, now he was laughing. All I wanted was to shrink and disappear. I was so embarrassed and humiliated. “What kind of a pervert are you?” he wasn’t laughing anymore. Sounded aggressive. “I asked you fag!” he yelled. I was humiliated and scared.
“I, I I...” I couldn’t even talk.

“Shut up bitch!” he put the volume high. It was Black Flag, “Drinking and Driving”. We left the high way, from a narrow out.

“Where are we going?” I sounded so scared.

“Not your business perv. I’M just gona teach you a lesson fag!” we were out of town. He wasn’t talking at all. I was angry with myself. How could I be so stupid? I was scared, cause I had no idea what he could do with me. Even his big toe is strong enough to break all the bones in my body. Probably he was taking me somewhere to beat me, or to kill me. Maybe raping me? I wouldn’t call this action rape. I was scared and hard, thinking myself begging him not to kill me. After driving a while around the narrow streets we were back on the high way turning back to Istanbul. We were going closer to the neighborhood he lived. I was thinking to run away from the car with the first red light we stop. I had this chance. 4 times. But I didn’t use any of them because he was so handsome and strong. I couldn’t get far from him. We stopped in a dark street close to his flat.

“Now tell me, do you really like my big boys?” he was watching his huge feet, as I watched them all the way long.

“Can’t you see? I have a desire for them. Please man, I’m not a bad person. Man, I just like big feet. Especially with a huge, handsome man like you. Please don’t kill me I only wanted to see you in real life”, he was smiling.

“You look so silly and sexy.” what did he tell me? I was confused. “Hey! Don’t watch me like that. I’m not gona kill you idiot. I just scared you. I know I’m a god for a foot fag like you, I can only be 19, but I have enough experience. I enjoy my big feet serviced.” he smiled again, he had shiny white teeth. “Now wait for me in here, I’ll be back in a minute.” he left the car, and I still couldn’t believe what was going on. I was so executed. Does he really like me? This god? I jumped with a horn next to my door. It was an American car from 50’s, I learned all the details.

“Lock the car and come here.” he ordered. I was ready to do everything this 19 year old god order, so I locked the car and he opened the right door for me. His arm was long enough to open it from driver’s seat without changing his position. I was sitting on the passenger seat and he yelled:

“Bitch! What the fuck you think you’re doin! Seat is for human beings, not slaves. You’re gona lay on the floor, close to my feet, where you belong to. That’s why I took this car. Fucking new cars don’t let you lie on the floor and be at my feet.”

“Yes sir!” I replied, and threw myself on the floor. “I’m really sorry sir, please forgive me.”, I kissed his right foot. His boot was something twice larger than my head. I was in the mood. I couldn’t believe I was so lucky.

“Never try it again! Slaves can only be lower than my knees.” his manly voice melted me at his feet.

“Listen now!” he said. “I drove the taxi all they long, in Istanbul traffic. I’m also a barman in a gay bar; I was standing all night long. Taxi’s not an automatic car like this. That’s why especially my left foot is extremely tired. Now I’m gona drive to my hideout, it’ll take an hour or two, this time you’re gona lick and massage my left sole with your fag face.”

“Yes sir!” he was just 19, but a professional. He was just 19, I was 34, climbing fast on my career mostly a respected person in my life. And I was just a slave for this 19 year old brat. I tried to untie his laces with my fingers, as an answer he hit my head with his right heal.

“You’re an idiot fag! Worst one, I had for my service. Slaves can never touch my feet and footwear with their fingers.”

“I’m sorry sir, please, forgive me.”, I was kissing his sole, nonstop.

“I know I’ve gotta tie your hands behind, take off your coat and t-shirt.”, car was still cool, and his boots were little cold and wet from pre-spring rain. I did as he ordered. Then he took my t-shirt and tied my hands from my ankles at my back with it. “Now that’s better bitch. Take off my boot and I’ll drive.” I rushed his laces with my teeth. They were so tight for me. It took some minutes to untie them. “Am I gona wait all nite long. You’re an old fag, had to be faster with your experience.”

“I’m sorry sir.”

“You’re not worthy enough to touch my young feet. Are you?”

“No sir. I’m just an old, stupid fag. But a lucky one, to be under your godly feet.”
“Godly! What’s you’re religion bitch?” I wanted to play with his temper this time. What was that stupid question?
“I’m an atheist sir.”, as I guessed, he was mad with my answer, he hit my face 3 times with his heel, my left eye was purple in the morning.

“You’re not an atheist. I am your god.”

“Yes sir! You’re my god, you’re my religion.” I could see his dark brown eyes when he lifted his foot up from my hurting eye. They were bright and full of lust.

“Now, do your job quick fag! I’m not gona wait all nite long.” I took off the sneakers with my teeth before, but I never did it with boots. After I untied all the laces with my teeth I expected him to lift his foot to pull the boot. He had other plans. He turned me on my back with his two feet, like I’m just a piece of furniture made for his feet. Actually I was at the moment. I was lying on my back when he spit on my face. “You’re too slow he said.” he put his left foot on my neck and pressed hard. I was breathless. Was he killing me?

“Sir please...” I could say with the last breath I had, and he lifted his foot laughing.
“Don’t worry bitch, I won’t kill you. Not now, maybe after using you, I’ll decide later. Now stick my boot between your neck and chin.” I kept the boot there as he lifted his foot. His manly fresh foot smell filled all around me. God I was in heaven. “Now doggy, put it at the left side.”, as I understand, he wanted me to lift like a dog. I turned around but it’s not easy when your hands are tied behind.

After putting it he helped turning with his left foot with sweaty black sock on only. “Good dog”, he said, his size 16 black wet sock, was right on my face. His heal playing on my hurting left eye, and the arch was on my mouth, than he started the car. I was in ecstasy and pain at the same time. My left eye under his black socked heal with my right eye I could see his huge right foot on pedals.

“55 Chrysler New Yorker he said. Dad bought this car 6 years ago as a piece of junk. It took of 4 years to put him back on the road. Many sleepless days and nites.”

“Must be a good job you’ve done sir”, I said. Answer was a hit right on my teeth with his heal. He was about to brake some of my teeth.

“Did I ask your comments! What the fuck you think you are? A human being or just a maggot?”

“I’m whatever you say my god, I’m a maggot under your superior foot.” Something around 2 hours he talked non-stop and told me almost all his life. He was the youngest of two sisters and a brother. He was a studying mechanical engineering in university; he was working in a gay bar as a barman, a bar that I had never been before meeting him. His father was the owner of the taxi stop and all the cars. He had problems with his parents because he’s gay. I had no idea why he was telling me about his life to me, like we’re just having a first normal date. Actually, all this time his left foot was rubbing on my face. My face, his personal foot massage mat. It felt nice for both of us. My left eye and nose which were crushed without mercy. They hurt terrible but I wasn’t complaining. I sucked all the sweat from his perfectly smelling black woolen socks. He told he’d been wearing them for 3 days. Sometimes he kept my lucky nose right under his long toes, where smelled perfect. He was really a god. Black leather jacket and tight white t-shirt and handsome face. Size 16 sole, twice bigger than my face. Finally he stopped the car.



Part 3

“Doggy, put my boot back on!”

He lifted up his foot; I turned and take his foot with my mouth. Put it in front of him. He pushed my face with smelly sole and put his foot in the boot again. He knows how to make you feel you’re nothing. “You don’t have to tie it, just put the laces in side.” I did as he ordered. He opened the door. “Get out; I like to have a carpet when I get out of my car.” He wants to stand on me? This huge man. This would be my end I said to myself as I crawled out the car. It was very cold for my poor body without a t-shirt on wet concrete ground.

We were in the drive way of a dark house. Actually all the houses in the street were dark. “This is our summer house. Little cold but it’ll be fine when we’re at home, it’s heated from ground. That was good news, bad news how I could survive under his body. Ok guys, I was trampled a lot. I enjoy a big boy’s pressure on my body, feeling worthless and helpless... But none of them were over 200 pounds. He was more than 260, muscle and bone at that moment. He put his sole on my stomach, as he stood up and my eyes got dark, he was so cruel that, he put his right foot on my poor little head without mercy.

“Let’s see if you’re skull’s strong enough for a man like me.” I moan in pain, as he was smiling and enjoying my pain. After 2-3 minutes he stepped down. “Fag have you ever been a flip-flop?” he asked. I didn’t understand first what he meant but I learnt it soon. He turned me on the ground. Put his foot under my tied hands and walked to the door, using me as his flip-flop. Crushing me every single step. His foot is something as huge as my back. Luckily t-shirt untied by itself at the door, or I could die under that rain. “Follow me crawling.” he ordered. Thank god inside first thing he did was putting the heat on. “Get naked. Fag, you’re little muddy crawling under rain, crawl upstairs, I’ll clean you in shower.” I was trying to crawl from the stairs, but of course he was playing with me. At the first step he pressed my head.

“Oh no! What a clumsy man I am. I didn’t see you at all.”, and he laughed. 2 more steps, his huge sole covered all my back. “Fag! Why you stopped! Did I tell you to stop!”, than he made me beg 5 minutes to forgive me because I stopped without his order. He was so evil and young comparing to me, that I really felt lower than a piece of dirt under his sole as he likes to call me. When I was at the last step he turned me on my back like I’m just a small cockroach. He put his big foot on my stomach. “What’s this under my sole he said.”, and he spit on my face.

“Sir,my lord, it’s me your slave.”, he was just watching me with his deep dark brown eyes. With no mercy for my unworthy, pathetic being.

“Did I hear something?” he pressed more, and spit again, right in mouth this time.
“My god, it’s me. The old, stupid fag who belongs under your mighty soles.”

“What’s this buzz under my feet. It must be a bug. I should crush it down, I hate bugs.” He put his other foot on my face again, he looked just like a god, but pain was something I couldn’t stand. He made me beg around 5 minutes to step back. I was breathless when he was walking around me. He has the most sexy-evil grin I’ve ever seen. He lifted me up with just one hand and carried me to the bathroom like I was just a paper bag. He’s such a strong man.

He threw me into the shower, thankfully not from so high. I was expecting cold water from this evil man, but he unzipped his dark blue jeans, his rock hard 9 inches was out. My eyes were wide open. As he pissed on my body. That was my shower; it was obvious he kept it for a long time. Coming to end, he start washing my face and I open my mouth wide automatically, his urine tasted better than any martini or tequila for me. After that he opened the water thankfully hot water, he wants to use me some more instead of killing me I thought. Later he helped me up, covered me with a big towel and carried me to the master bedroom of the house. Threw me on the floor. He sat on the bed, his huge feet at the both side of my head on the towel.

“Now you’re clean again fag. I don’t like you dirty. Time to take off my boots as I taught you.” without a word I did what he ordered. He took off his t-shirt and tied my ankles at my back with it this time. He laid back still his feet on the floor. My nose was under his right, foot. That was the first time I met his right foot.

He rolled me over again with his big feet. “It was a good idea to take this foot massage mat”. He was just talking to himself. Not to me, my face was just a massage mat for his right foot. I was just a piece of furniture. His left foot was on my chest, heal on my heart. Me? I was in heaven. Yeah, his foot was heavy, and especially, my nose hurt a lot, but I was so happy with his strong smell. After half an hour, having a good lick from his thick sock, he ordered me to take them off. My teeth were ready. Finally it was time see his gorgeous feet. He has wide hairy, dark feet. Long toes with most beautiful nails, cut well 2-3 days ago. Must be another slave I thought.

“Sir can I cut your toe nails by myself next time, please I’m begging you.”

“Cutting them? I don’t think so. You’re gona eat them, not cutting them.” he sounded better every time he talked to me. “Now take out your tongue. Time for a long-good foot bath. It’ll continue until your tongue dies old bitch.” He grinned again, so beautiful eyes he has. Common, I wasn’t so old, just 15 years. He was doing all the work. I only wet my tongue when it gets dry. I have no idea for how long he made me lick his both soles, between all his toes. He also forced them in my mouth, and ordered me to clean his nails. I felt so lucky eating his foot dirt from sides of his toe nails.

At the end, he put his both feet under my arms, and lifted me up on the bed as he got backwards. He was half sitting, but his feet were at the edge where he kept my face. He still had his jeans on, but his huge cock was out. His muscular body looked awesome with his manly face. I tried to crawl to his huge cock, when he touched it but he stopped me with his left sole. “Not yet fag. Stay there and watch me. I want you to be horny.” damn he was so evil. Can you imagine, such a charming man, only in jeans? His 9 inches erection on my view, feet were just few inches from my face, not smelly anymore after my foot bath, actually my face and hair smelled like his feet from that time. Smoking a cigarette... Man this is what I call torture. He smoked 2 cigarettes back to back, touching his huge cock softly. “Come and eat my cock!” he ordered finally, pushing off his jeans. I was trying to crawl like a snake between his muscular hairy legs my hands tied behind me.

When I get there, he caught me from my short hair, he forced his rock hard in my throat, and I sucked him like a vacuum. He had a great manly aroma with his pubic hair. When he exploded in my throat, I thought it was a volcano. His name ‘Volkan’ means volcano. His parents found the right name for their son. His hot cum filled all my mouth, such a perfect taste, not so liquid. “Don’t waste one drop fag!” how could I? I was living for this moment. He was still rock hard as I expected from a man like him. He turned me under his huge body, covering totally. I was crushed with his body this time as his big, thick cock getting in my ass. I screamed with pleasure and pain, while pumping me. He filled his load 2 times back to back. I was breathless, but he was still hard. This man is a sperm machine I told myself. Again he pushed me down to his crotch.

“Lick my balls!” he said. His big heals were around my cock, stroking gently. Even better than I imagined all week. We came at the same time, me on his feet, and he came all over my face and hair.

“Come he said, let’s go to shower.”, actually he didn’t have to tell me, cause again he took me under his muscular thick arm. “Wash all my body.” he said, getting into the Jacuzzi. I massaged every single square inch on his body with my talented fingers. I understand he enjoyed it from the way he moans. I left his big cock to the end. He was hard from the moment I start touching him. He fucked me once more in Jacuzzi. We get out together, he put me on the floor, I was his foot towel as he dried, than he threw his own towel to me, I get on my knees, and hugged his hairy legs with respect. He was my king.

“Let’s go to bed.” he said, his voice was still so manly but not that cruel-master commanding tone. In bed he laid on his back and I disappeared on his hairy chest, in his hug.

“I hope you don’t have someone in your life at the moment, even though I look evil, I’m a good man. I don’t wanna beat up someone.”

“What?” I really didn’t understand what he meant. I still don’t understand what he means time by time.

“Emre, I’m moving to your apartment tomorrow. From now on I’m your god, master and boyfriend. I am your man. From today you belong to me. Only me. So we’re gona live together from tomorrow. I’m gona pay the half of the rent, bills and shopping, my salary from the bar is enough. I’m not gona ask money from my dad. I’m totally fed up with them. When it comes to you. You’re whatever I desired all my life. Boy you will never ever fuck with another man in your life again.” And then he kissed me. I lost between his thick salty lips. I fall asleep in his arms that night.

This was exactly nine years before. Soon I’ll leave home and I’m gona wait for him on the street where I first saw him. He will arrive with his father’s Chrysler New Yorker soon, and we drive to his parent’s summer house like each 17th of March. I’m still excited like the first day…

He kept all his promises since 17th March 2001. Next day he moved to my loft. Well, first years his pathetic salary was enough for nothing and he never graduated from university. Actually he’s the spoiled brat of a wealthy family who has no idea how to spend or keep money. However, 5 years ago he won the lottery and he became the owner the bar he had been working as a barman for 6 years. 5 years ago he bought the loft we’re living as a birthday present to me. Well actually last year he bought an Alfa Romeo 8C Competizone for my birthday. And most important of all we have a Jacuzzi in the bathroom where I massage him anytime he orders.

Life with Volkan is never easy; he decides everything by himself without asking me. All I do is to accept what he decides for us, just like the way he got into my life without asking my opinion. In addition it’s hard to live with him because he’s strong as a stallion. In past years he broke my ribs 7 times, my nose for twice, once my left arm and right leg. He’s kinda too strong and big for me. All just mistakenly…

I’m his slave at home, doing all the house work, he only knows to be laid back at home and get serviced ah, also making cocktails. I’m his loving boyfriend outside with friends, his most trustable friend when he’s in trouble, kind who knows every dirty secret about him. Me? I’m going great with my career as well. I’m a manager in the media group since last year, and we’re selling approximately twice more than before since then. Volkan seems to be a man like who doesn’t care about me at all. But it’s just what he shows, he never forgot my birthday, each time he had a surprise. Whenever I enter his bar, his dj starts playing ‘You Look Like Rain’, our song. He jumps over the bar and holds me strong in his strong arms, beside all those jealous eyes. Yeah; I know his such a stud. We start dancing and each time I got lost in his thick salty lips...

Emel opened an alternative bar last year, where amateur bands are having gigs. I’m there the times I’m not at Volkan’s place-I’ve got free booze anytime. Buse is the chief of the graphic designers now in the media group. She’s my best friend for a long time. Only person who knows all the details about my relation with Volkan. Volkan’s parents never did like me, they never get along with the idea he’s gay. Also my parents hate Volkan; they think he’s beating me, from my broken bones or purple eyes.

He doesn’t beat me, this is the way he loves me. I’m just kinda small for him. I don’t care even if he wants to kill me, I adore him, and anything is acceptable for me when it comes from Volkan. Who cares, they learn to live with us after many years. Last year he bought a 61 Dodge Coronet as a project car, he’s working on this car, he says, he will not buy carpets for the car; he says he already has the best carpet. You know what he means. Oh yeah, you’re right, he’s damn sexy coming from the garage all filthy, covered with oil.

Probably he will kill me mistakenly one day. Sooner or later. I don’t care. I’m in love with all my heart. He never told me he loves me or he never came home with flowers. He’s always mean with me. He doesn’t have to tell me good things or behave something he’s not. His eyes are talking to me, that's more than enough for me. It’s enough to be in his strong arms. He’s the god I adore. He’s the evil master makes me suffer. He’s the caring boyfriend that I’m so lucky to have. He’s the man I love