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A Pleasure Accident

by mauropicco@hotmail.com

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I am a 36 y.o. single Italian guy, my name is Mauro. I live in Rome in a little apartment near the city's center. I really love male feet and could do anything to get them. No one has ever known of my perversion or the fact I am gay . . . in fact I've had many girlfriends in the past. Girlfriends that I've always found really boring.

On June 24th 2000, I had a car accident. Was at night--about 3:15 a.m. when I was returning home after an evening spent drinking heavily with some of my friends.

At a red traffic light I stopped. In the disco where my friends and I spent the night, there had been a guy who was dancing barefoot on a table, and I dreamed about being that table. While I was dreaming the traffic light became green and I was about to restart my car when suddenly, a car traversed from the cross-street (where the traffic light was red) didn't stop.

We had a crash!

After I had found out that I was OK, I came out from my car and lookedover at the other auto that was on the right. A man who was about my age emerged.

"You all right?" I asked. He didn't answer and I began to become nervous.

Then he looked at me with his black eyes. With his equally black hair, he was taller than me (I am 1,80 m. he was about 1,85 m.) and a little bit more of the body builder type.

"What the hell have you done?" He asked with a very arrogant tone.

"I had the green, and you had to stop!" I said.

He moved his head in a objection movement and said "You are a fucked-up stupid one! I had invaded the crossroads and you had to wait!"

Now I was furious, "It isn't so . . . in fact your car crashed into mine, and when I had the green there was no car!"

He walked toward me . . . he was wearing sandals, white shorts and a blue shirt. His feet were really cool and big and his toenail shone in the night. His hairy legs were too sexy and his body was very cool. When he was in front of me he said, "I am right!". His very masculine voice completed the sexy show I was enjoying, and is arrogance made him a god to my dick.

My blue jeans started to swell, but I don't think he noticed that.

I couldn't resist, but the fact I was paying for another's fault made me say, "I think you must have drunk too much to think you are right. Why don't we call the police so that they will decide who is wrong and who is right?".

His feet started to stretch their toes nervously and in a second he tore his shirt and stood with his torso bared. What I saw was EDEN . . . a beautiful male body in front of me at a very short distance. The saliva filled my mouth and my dick exited from my underpants.

He pulled me up with one of his big and masculine hands, catching my T-shirt, "You have to say I am right otherwise I have to kick your ass, you stupid peace of shit!".

I was honored to be called "peace of shit" by a real man, but the fear grew in me and my body began to tremble too fast. He must have seen my fear and let me fall on ground. I could have the honor to see his beautiful feet closer, and to smell the sweat out of his sandals. What a man!

I looked at him, "please don't hurt me!"

With an arrogant smile he said, "fuck you, repugnant worm!"

His 'sweet words' made me feel in heaven, totally submitted to a beautiful master and humiliated by his 'poetical words'. He turned himself and I had the chance to see his godlike heels. He walked toward his car and entered. I was on my knees full of fear and in the same time full of satisfaction.

Suddenly he exited from his car with a sheet in his hand and came to me, "Get up! Now you've to certificate your guilt!".

I obeyed his order and got up, "What guilt? I've understood the lesson. I won't make your assurance pay!"

He laughed at it and said, "Yes, that's right cause it's your fault. Then your assurance has to pay!"

If I certified that it was my fault my taxes would have been increased, "We both know that is your fault, I am saying to you that I won't make pay your assurance . . ."

He pulled his right hand in my face and tightened it. I was full of pain, for his power was too much. He was very strong! Through his fingers I saw his muscular arm torturing me, and in that pain I enjoyed. "I know I had the red, but since I am stronger you have to submit to me. Otherwise I will break you into a thousand pieces! Sign your guilt here, you peace of shit!".

He freed my face and put his hand back to my head--giving me some strong slaps. I felt enslaved, and I suddenly took the pen and started to sign the sheet he had compiled. When I finished he took the sheet and started to read it. I looked down to his feet and enjoyed this humiliating moment. I would lick his beautiful and masculine feet, feeling their aroma in my mouth.

"Excuse me sir," I said, "Excuse me for the time you have lost for my incompetence in drive."

He put me on my knees again. He looked down at me and started to laugh, "Poor peace of shit! Finally you've understood the lesson! You should deserve a kick on your face!"

My mind was in an other world, wandering through his beautiful toes and I said "If this is what I deserve . . ."

He looked at me and, with a very masculine statement, said, "Go home dog! Go home or you could end up in a hospital!"

He called me 'dog' ... humiliating me so much that I honestly wanted to be kicked by my beautiful new master. "If this is what I deserve, I have to be kicked!".

He laughed and said, "If I kicked you in your face, you could go home after a long sleep!"

I looked down to his feet, I was on my knees . . . and my dick was very enthusiastic.

"I wouldn't kill you, so I'll pull off my sandal first!" he arrogantly said.

I was in heaven again, a real man was stripping his foot . . . his godlike foot . . . from his sandal to kick my face. I was thanking god for it.

I saw his bare foot on ground--its beauty was too much for me. Saliva exited from my mouth in that moment.

Suddenly, after a judo-like shout, I felt the biggest pain I've never felt in my life and lost my senses.

When I waked up I found myself in a hospital. Somebody brought me there. After an hour the doctor questioned me about that night. I said to him, "I had an accident last night. It was my fault. The gentleman in the other car was very thoughtful and asked me if I wanted to go to the hospital, I answered that I was OK and signed my guilt for his insurance. After three minutes I had restarted my car . . . and I felt so bad that I began beating my head on my steering wheel. I was crazy and stopped my car in the middle of the street. I got out the car and couldn't remember anything!"

The doctor looked at me incredulously, "You have been driving more than a little bit drunk, guy!".

Touching my face, feeling the pain that 'god' had inflicted upon me, I said, "It was my fault!"