by SheerQueer
« Back To Free Stories Archive
I have always liked Jason. We've worked together for 2 years, in the same small office, so we've gotten to know each other pretty well. We trade CD's, and discuss politics. He's got a great sense of humor, and keeps us all laughing with his stupid jokes. I've always thought he was incredibly hot. He's a 6 ft. tall thirtysomething, who works out religiously. He dresses impeccably; from beautiful silk ties and suspenders, perfectly tailored suits, all the way down to his footwear. From the beginning, I could see that Jason was somewhat narcissistic, especially about his feet. He wears the finest, most sensuous hosiery, and very sexy, low-cut Italian slip-ons. He doesn't flaunt himself he's just confident, and enjoys looking good.
I discreetly watch him, when he's working. He unconsciously slips his feet in and out of his shoes. When he's on the phone, he crosses his legs, and lets his shoe dangle off a little; or he props his feet on his desk, and flexes them as though he's amusing himself by watching them. Needless to say, he drives me wild, but I have never let on.
I always thought he had a happy marriage, and family life. Until recently, he talked about his wife and kids (their pictures spread over his desk). A couple of afternoons a week, he changes into his baseball uniform, to coach his son's Little League team. Of course, he changes in our little office, chattering enthusiastically about the team, and the sport; while pulling on the long baseball socks, black leggings, and slipping into his black baseball cleats. He rushes out, leaving me breathless, and horny! Last month, though, I began to notice a change in him. He was moody, depressed, and melancholy. I asked if he needed to talk about what was bothering him, but being a "guy", he held it in, and said he could handle it. Finally, last week, he was served with divorce papers. Jason stoically accepted them, but I could tell he was devastated. He was silent for the rest of the day. At quitting time, I again offered my help, but he said he'd be OK. I felt he shouldn't be alone, but I went home.
Around 8:00 that evening, my apartment bell rang. It was Jason. He sounded defeated. He said he didn't know where else to go, and asked to come up. He looked slightly less impeccable than usual, but even more sexy. His hair was kind of disheveled, his "5 o'clock shadow" was about 3 hours heavier, and he was a little sweaty after walking to my apartment from downtown. I knew it wasn't appropriate, but I couldn't help being turned on by his vulnerable state. And I couldn't stop imagining his beautiful feet, after walking a mile or so to get here. I could tell he was uncomfortable being at my apartment, in his condition, so I put my arm around him to put him at ease. However, he pulled away, as though he'd received an electrical jolt. He was immediately ashamed of his action, and covered by suggesting we go for drinks.
The neighborhood tavern was mellow, and uncrowded. It was the perfect setting for Jason to finally loosen, and tell me of his disintegrating marriage a lot about growing apart, nothing in common anymore, loss of sexual appeal. It was all very familiar. After about 2 hours, Jason had downed quite a few bourbons. I suggested maybe he should get a cab home, or somewhere, and get some rest. He agreed, but he became really disoriented as he attempted to stand. The only thing to do was to help him back to my apartment.
By the time we reached home, I was virtually carrying him. I got him inside, and over to the big chair. He apologized (through slurred speech), for being a bother, and then passed out cold. There he was, sprawled out in front of me. I loosened his tie and unbuttoned the top of his white shirt. I just stared for a moment. I had fantasized this scenario countless time, so now, I let my fantasy come to life.
I knelt at his feet. He was wearing black silk/nylon socks, which were very finely thin, without being sheer. The feel of them, as I ran my hands up his muscular calves, was exquisite. His expensive, black kilties were of the softest leather I'd known. They hugged his size 11 feet just enough to resist slightly, as I gently tugged to pull them off. There was the briefest swoosh of air, as the suction released, and his shoes slid slowly over his heels. My heart raced, and I savored the moment as they gave way, and glided up the curves of his arches, lightly scraping the bottoms of his soles, up past the rounded balls of his feet, and over the toes. Finally, his big toes were revealed, sticking prominently above the others; stretching the delicate fabric of the socks to its limit. It was a dizzying sight. There they were large, warm, damp, with a faint stench of flesh that's been bound in leather for hours. Jason's feet -- those beautiful, manly feet which had teased me to get close, touch and smell them for 2 years.
As I bent closer, my lips automatically parted, and allowed my tongue the pleasure of meeting the tips of his toes. It followed the contour of one foot, while my hand traced the curves of the other. The smell went up my nostrils, and I closed my eyes. I gently nibbled at the balls of his feet. I rubbed my face over the silky fabric that stretched across his soles, until I thought I would have a spontaneous orgasm. But I wanted to take full advantage of Jason's helplessness. It was time to get this sleepy, young man ready for bed. I pulled his limp body up, and bent him over my shoulder. He was sort of heavy, but I managed to straighten up, and his firm rounded ass went up in the air. He groaned, as his torso flopped over my back, and I carried him into the bedroom. I liked the feel and sheer power of carrying this handsome, straight man; watching his socked feet dangle in front of me (his toes sporadically grazed my crotch), his head and arms swinging behind me, feeling his cock and balls pressing against my shoulder.
I dumped him on my bed, and I stripped him down to only his bikini briefs, and those sexy OTC's. He looked seductive, with his hair slightly over his closed eyes. Plump nipples rose through the hair of his muscular chest. His washboard stomach gently contracted, as he breathed. What a sight the object of my obsession, lay before me, waiting.
I slowly pulled off his socks, one at a time. I leaned down and bathed his bare feet with my tongue, until they were wet. I reached up and rubbed his cock and balls. Through his drunken slumber, be must have been thinking about his wife, because raging erection was straining through his underwear. I pulled down his briefs, and began stroking him, while I continued working on his feet. I heard him groan loudly; he stiffened, and shot an enormous load, while he was still semi-unconscious! The excitement at the sight of such a masculine force drove me into ecstasy. I covered his bare feet with cum. After a while, I got a towel and cleaned him up. I put his shorts back on him, and I slept on the sofa.
The next morning, I awoke with him standing over me. "Good morning. Guess I really tied one on last night. Thanks for putting me up", he said.
"Oh, anything for a buddy", I said warily. We dressed, and had coffee.
As we were heading out the door for work, he guiltily said, "I liked it last night. Never had my feet done before. That was the best sex I've ever had."
"You Bastard! You were conscious the whole time?"
"Yeah", he confessed sheepishly. "I wanted you to take me last night, but I was scared, 'cause I've never done it with a guy, before. So I figured if you thought I was passed out and you did! What a turn on, man! I've always wanted my feet taken care of, and you were great!"
"And the stuff about your marriage?" I asked cynically.
"Oh, that was all true, and it's over alright", he said sadly. "But it looks like you and I are just beginning. Guess I'm officially 'Bi-sexual' now, huh?"
"Man, you're crazy!" I laughed. "Welcome back, buddy!"
