by Andrew D
I knew Mike since he was in high school. He was the little brother of a close buddy of mine, a few years younger than us. When he graduated, Mike essentially became one of the guys and part of our inner circle. He went wherever me and the guys did.
Mike was a baseball player, stocky and athletic, thick and rugged, with short brown hair. It didn’t do me any favors standing next to the jock. Despite being about 2 inches taller, I looked relatively puny in comparison, despite being 5’9”.
My girlfriend, Lisa, was taller than both of us at 6’1”. She had long, curly blond hair that almost touched her 34c tits. When she and I were together, it looked like a complete mismatch. She was way out of my league, and I knew I was lucky to have her.
Lisa accompanied my friends and me to a keg party. She met Mike for the first time that night, and they spent most of the evening getting to know one another, talking over beers in front of the campfire while my buddies and I horsed around. At one point, I saw Mike and my girl sitting on the same chair. With little room for them both, she was almost sitting on his lap. I found this peculiar because there were no shortages of places to sit. Neither my girlfriend nor Mike budged when I walked towards them. Feeling awkward, I sat on the ground beside Mike’s legs.
My girl and my buddy’s little brother continued talking to one another – sometimes even whispering to each other. They weren’t ignoring me. Instead, they were just more interested in each other. Mike was saying all the right things to her. I never made Lisa nervously giggle the way she did with him. She tried hiding her laughter when Mike kicked his sneakers off and put his legs on my shoulders. I had enough beers in me by that point that I didn’t even attempt to push them off me. Instead, feeling sleepy, I passed out, using Mike’s big, sweatsock-covered foot as a pillow. Before I fell asleep, I found myself feeling thankful that the jock’s feet were so thick, so meaty, so big…the aroma that wafted from this socked feet and into my nostrils seemed so comforting, so appealing, so right…his white socks were so sweaty that I could almost taste them.
I don’t remember much of what happened that night other than my girl telling me to thank Mike for taking my drunk-ass home. She made it sound like he carried me, but from what my buddies told me, he gripped the back of my shirt and dragged me into the car with one hand. Apparently, I gave everyone quite the laugh seeing Mike using my head and shoulders as a footrest.
When I awoke, I noticed my girlfriend’s side of the bed was untouched. I assumed she slept on the couch, not wanting to sleep beside the inebriated mess that was her boyfriend. Seeing Lisa in the kitchen, she apologized if Mike and she had made too much noise while I slept. Confused, she told me that after Mike had carried (dragged?) me to bed, he stayed behind for a little while, and the two of them spent some “quality time together on the couch,” whatever that entailed.
I sat down on the couch, and from the corner of my eye, I saw her panties between the cushion folds. On the right armrest, there were wet streams on the fabric. Looking down, I saw a dirty sock on the ground. I knew it was Mike’s sweatsock, recognizing the scent, remembering that my face was cheek to cheek with his foot before I passed out. The weird thing was, when I saw his sock, my heart skipped a beat! I was so happy to see that sock and looked around for the other one, not finding it right away.
I reached down, grabbed the white sock, and used it to clean up whatever the white streams were on the armrest, which most had already been absorbed into the couch by that point. I took a whiff of the now-wet sock, though I’m not sure why. One sniff gave me an ear-to-ear smile like I had just discovered gold. I hid the sock in a ziplock bag in my office desk drawer. I’m not sure why I did that, but nevertheless, I made sure Lisa wasn’t looking when I did.
Lisa came home late the next night, walking funny like she had just stepped off a treadmill. She said that Mike surprised her at work, and the two of them ended up going back to his place. I didn’t want to intrude on the new-found friendship between my best friend’s little brother and my girlfriend, and quite frankly, I didn’t want to bring her down – she had been giddy since they met.
As she walked past me, I recognized a familiar scent and realized it was the same one that came from Mike’s sweatsock. I saw Lisa looking around the couch, and when I asked what she was looking for, she said Mike left his sock behind when he dropped me off. She asked if I threw it in the laundry, thinking it was mine. For some reason, I lied and told her I didn’t see anything. Not breaking eye contact with me, I could tell she knew I was lying. However, I knew she wasn’t being completely honest with me about something.
It seemed that Mike was the unspoken common denominator between us. Lisa smiled at me as I opened my mouth as if she suspected me of something and was waiting for me to confess. I think we both wanted to say something to one another, though we bit our tongues for whatever reason. When Lisa walked away, I panicked, wondering what I would say if Mike came by looking for his dirty sweatsock. I felt like I had just betrayed them both – Lisa for lying about the sock and Mike for stealing it. I should have been ashamed of lying about what I took, yet I couldn’t scrub the mischievous smile off my face. I wanted Lisa to go anywhere so I could be alone with my new toy.
Shortly afterwards, I sat in my office chair, opened up the ziplock bag containing Mike’s sock, and buried my nose in the bag. The scent was still there, and the high it gave me was something no drug could ever provide. It smelled like he had worn them all day during a workout and maybe even his day job. It was a fairly new sock, still white and lint-free, but an entire day’s worth of hard-laboured sweat had turned the sole of the sock dark, almost charcoal.
With the sock in my hand, I went online to creep Mike’s Facebook page. A photo of him and Lisa was front and center. He was looking at the camera, a smirk on his lips and a thumbs-up on his hand. The combination of how hot my girlfriend looked in the jock’s arms hypnotized me. I identified authority, cockiness, and superiority in his facial expression and body language. Mike was such an alpha male.
I scrolled down and saw another picture of the two of them. This time, my girlfriend’s lips were kissing Mike’s cheek. The scent of Mike’s sock in my left hand began wafting towards my nose. I zoomed in on my wipe’s lips touching Mike’s skin, unzipping my pants and taking my throbbing cock out. I began looking through Mike’s pictures, searching for a full-body pic. Surely, there was one showing his feet. His very large feet. His thick, meaty feet. God, I wanted to see them again. I wanted to feel his big foot against my cheek. I wondered what his socked foot tasted like. I wondered what his bare feet tasted like. I stuck my tongue out and licked the tip of Mike’s sock, and just like that, I came harder than I ever had in my entire life. Ropes of cum shot so far they landed on my face and hair!
I cleaned myself up, confused by what I had just done. I masturbated thinking about another dude’s feet. What the heel…I mean, hell, was that all about? Was I gay? No, because I didn’t want to have sex with Mike. This wasn’t about me being attracted to Mike sexually. No, this was something…better. My mind thought back to me sitting beside Mike’s legs at the keg party. Why did I instinctively kneel and put myself beneath him? Why did being so close to his feet feel so right? And why did I want to do it again?
I re-bagged Mike’s sock, shoved it in my drawer and crawled into bed. When I snuggled up to Lisa, I felt a big rubber dildo near her legs – a toy I have often used on her during intimate moments. I could tell she had masturbated and passed right out, hence the reason the dildo was still where it was. I realized at that moment we both had an orgasm in the same evening, in the same household, but without each other. I wondered what she had thought about when she masturbated.
Later that day, I bumped into Mike at a grocery store. He could tell I was nervous around him while we made small talk. I invited him back to my place for a few beers. Once we arrived, Mike immediately kicked back on my couch and began playing with my Xbox while I made him a sandwich. I came back out to the living room with two plates – a sandwich for us both. As he took his plate, I kneeled beside his feet instinctively without realizing it.
“Plenty of room on the couch here, bud,” Mike said to me, arching his eyebrow.
“Nah, I’m good here, man,” I replied.
“Suit yourself,” he said, chuckling to himself. I felt like he was laughing at me.
I fetched Mike a new bottle after he polished off his first brew. Unlike me, Mike could hold his alcohol, and I found myself pissing every other minute from the half bottle I drank. On my fourth trip back – and I don’t know why I made this spontaneous decision – I grabbed Mike’s sock out of my drawer – still bagged up – walked over to the living room, and handed the bag to him. I told him he must have forgotten it the other night, ending my sentence with an awkward, nervous laugh.
Mike immediately looked at me, eyeing me up and down with disgust and confirmation, like he realized he was right about something. Mike threw the bag at my head lightly, shaking his head when I didn’t catch it despite being just a few feet away from him. The jock didn’t ask why I had the sock in a ziplock bag. Instead, he got up, and with a smirk on his face, Mike slapped my cheeks a little, telling me I could keep the sock.
“Who knows what you did with that, buddy,” Mike said incredulously. “It’s all yours.”
I felt a sense of approval like I had struck gold or earned a promotion of some sort. I was beaming, and I couldn’t explain why.
Then, something happened I didn’t see coming. Mike sat back down and put his legs up on my coffee table. He signalled for me to come closer with his index finger, and when I got close enough, he pointed down towards his shoes. He didn’t say a word, nor did I, when I instinctively dropped to my knees once again.
“Those sneakers aren’t gonna take themselves off, are they, little buddy?” Mike asked me, his tone suggesting he was mocking me. My dick twitched in my pants a bit.
Without missing a beat, I began unlacing his sneakers. From my peripheral vision, I could see Mike shake his head.
“Does she know she’s going out with a fucking faggot?” I heard Mike mutter under his breath.
“What was that, Mike?” I replied, even though I knew exactly what he said.
“Listen, fruitcake, I didn’t leave the sock here accidentally,” Mike said as I unlaced his first shoe. He nodded to his other shoe, and I switched sides to unlace it. Mike held each leg up so I could pull his sneakers off his feet, laughing at me as I used all my strength to pull them off, falling on my ass the second time I did. I wasn’t really making eye contact with him – his big, thick, white, socked feet captured my full attention.
“Sniff it,” Mike told me.
“What?” I replied. I knew what he said, but it sounded too good to be true. Wait, what am I saying?! Too good to be true?!
“I TOLD YOU TO SNIFF THE FUCKING SHOE!” Mike barked out, startling me. I immediately buried my face into the opening of his sneaker. I felt Mike’s meaty hand on the back of my head, his other hand gripping the bottom of his shoe.
“TAKE. A. WHIFF.” He demanded.
I did as I was told. My heart was pounding so hard I thought it was going to burst out of my chest. I was nervous and excited at the same time. I loved the way he was talking down to me, and my dick began to twitch again. I took a second whiff, followed by a third, and then just kept sniffing away. Mike noticed and was not amused.
“Look at you,” Mike said, talking down to me, literally and figuratively. “I only told you to take a whiff, I never said to keep sniffing.”
“Oh, I’ll stop,” I replied, embarrassed. At this point, I noticed Mike’s hands were not on the shoe or my head. I was sniffing his shoe willingly and eagerly.
“Fucking disgusting,” Mike said, slapping cheek with his damp, socked foot. “I saw the way you were drawn to my feet at that keg party, dude.”
Mike grabbed his beer and took a swig as I took off his other shoe. I took a moment to admire the sweatsocks on his feet. They were white, clearly a new pair, but one that had been worn for a while. In fact, the imprints on the base of the sweatsocks suggested he had been in them for several hours already. The scent emitting from each sock was putting me in a trance-like state, though I was fully cognitive.
“With your girl in my arms, you came right over to us, right down to my feet, not even flinching when I used you as a footrest,” Mike said, shaking his head at me. “Using my foot as a pillow confirmed what I had suspected all this time I knew you. You’re a fucking faggot.”
“No, Mike, I’m not ga--” I tried to say, but the jock swiftly shoved his socked toes in my mouth with it open. Oh fuck, so that’s what they taste like.
“Did I say you could speak, homo?” He said with a stern look. I shook my head no as he pulled his socked toes out of my mouth.
“Listen, don’t worry, it’s cool.” He continued, putting his hands behind his head. “I didn’t tell your girl your little secret, and I didn’t tell our friends. Your secret’s safe with me.”
“But Mike, I’m really not ga–” (SMACK!) Mike’s thick foot slapped my cheek harshly. Oh fuck, is he going to do that again? How do I get him to? Oh god, did I really just think that? What is wrong with me? Why does this guy’s feet have such an effect on me?!
“I don’t want any backchat out of you, got it?” Mike asked. The nerve of this guy, who was younger than me, bossing me around in my own house. My dick twitched wildly again.
“Got it,” I replied, my eyes on his feet.
“You’re gonna be my foot-fag, little buddy,” Mike said, chuckling as he leaned back and put his hands behind his head.
“Mike, I—I don’t---” (SMACK!) Another foot slap hit my cheek. Oh fuck, I hope he does that again.
“As I said, I’m not gonna tell anyone about your sick little fetish,” he said to me. “But you’re gonna know your place around me. Pussies like you are meant to take care of alpha males like me, man.”
“Yeah, but Mike, I—” (SMACK!) Mike hit me again with his thick foot. At this point, I was willingly talking back so he would slap me. The jock placed his foot under my chin to lift my head so he could look me in the eyes.
“There’s gonna be some changes around here,” Mike said, slowly taking his sweatsock off and sling-shotting it in my face. It landed on my nose and mouth, and my dick twitched yet again. I saw him take the other sock off and salivated. I felt like a dog watching a tennis ball, waiting for it to be thrown.
“I’m gonna be spending a lot more time here. You’re not, specifically when I’m with your girl.” Mike sternly said to me. “You’ll do exactly what I tell you to do, and if you follow my rules, well…” Mike held up his dirty sweatsock and dangled it in front of my face. “…we’ll all be happy. Won’t we?”
I looked up at Mike and nodded my head in approval. All of this was moving too quickly, but I didn’t fight it. I was not complaining about this situation. All I wanted to do was obey this total alpha. He was still talking, but I was lost in my own world, buzzed from the high his treatment was giving me.
“…and so Lisa’s gonna be spending more time with me and less with you, ain’t she?” Mike asked. Who is he talking about? Oh yeah, my girlfriend. Forgot about her.
It was at that moment that I realized how far I had fallen. I was so mesmerized by the scent of Mike’s sweatsocks that I had forgotten I was in a committed relationship with a girl way too hot for me—a relationship I have always cherished and never wanted to lose. And now, I only wanted a relationship with the sole of Mike’s big foot.
“Who’s the boss?” Mike asked me, grabbing my hair and yanking it back. I realized he did this because I was barely looking him in the eyes. His dirty socks were all that mattered at that moment.
“You are,” I replied.
“You are, WHAT?” Mike shouted, startling me.
“You are, SIR,” I replied correctly. Oh fuck, my dick was twitching so badly now that there was no way Mike wouldn’t notice. His laughter confirmed he caught the action happening in my pants.
“Show me you know who the boss is, faggot,” Mike said cockily, grossing his arms and arching his eyebrow once again.
I leaned over and hovered my face in front of Mike’s big barefoot sole.
“Kiss it,” Mike ordered. I puckered up and moved closer to his foot. The aroma was like a rope pulling me in.
“No, I didn’t say pucker up, I said KISS IT!” Mike demanded, his tone making me slightly nervous. Imagine that - a jock way younger than me intimidating me on my own couch. In my own house, no less!
My eyes met his as I opened my mouth and stuck my tongue out.
“LICK, FAGGOT.” Mike commanded. I licked from the base of his sole to the bottom of his toes.
“Good fucking boy,” Mike said, making me breathe a sigh of relief. Suddenly, his approval meant the world to me.
“But Sir,” I began to ask, noticing his smile after I called him ‘sir.’ “What if Lisa sees---”
“Don’t worry about her, fuckboy,” Mike snickered. “I am a man of my word. No one will know what a fucking loser you are. Not our friends, not your girl. As long as you know your place, that is…”
I breathed another sigh of relief, and Mike realized he said exactly what I wanted to hear. He could see that I wasn’t fighting the predicament he had put me in. He could see how happy I was to be placed in this position.
Mike commanded me to pull up my ottoman and placed his legs on it. He then grabbed a pillow and tossed it at my knees.
“I’m not heartless, you know,” Mike smirked. “Your knees are probably killing you. Use the pillow, so you’re comfy worshipping me.
Oh fuck, he cares about my comfort! Could this situation get any better?! Suddenly, his phone rang. Looking to see who was calling, he looked at me and winked.
“It’s Lisa,” Mike said, smiling.
“Who? Oh, right…” I replied. This made Mike laugh out loud as he answered the phone.
“Hey babe,” he said to my girlfriend without breaking eye contact with me. “Oh, I’m at your place with your boyfriend.” As he said this, I lowered my head, opened my mouth, and sucked his big toe.
“Uh, fuck,” Mike moaned, giving me a thumbs up before silently mouthing “attaboy” to me.
And just like that, my twitching dick, still in my pants, released a significant amount of pre-cum. A wet spot began to form in the crotch of my pants, and it was impossible to miss. Mike lifted his head and looked down at me, shaking his head in disgust.
“Fucking faggot.” He silently mouthed to me while holding the phone, lifting his foot and pushing me with force against the ground. Mike stood up and hovered over me menacingly. I felt so intimidated by the jock as he lifted his foot again and stepped on my face. He rubbed his bare soles all over my face as if it was a doormat. Looking up, I could see my behavior utterly repulsed him.
“Yeah, I’ll be here when you get back,” Mike chuckled. “I wanna talk about maybe moving in with you guys…”
I looked up at him, smiling like I had just won the lottery. Mike looked down at me and smiled.
“Don’t worry,” he said to my girlfriend. “Something tells me the little guy won’t have any problem with me moving in here at all…”
Mike gave me another wink while hovering his other foot over my face, and that’s all it took for my dick to blow a load in my pants, hands-free.
