by Eugene
« Back To Free Stories Archive
Damien and I have been married for 3 years now, and He works, while I don't, instead staying at home all day to take care of the house, cook, and to give Him a warm welcome when He returns home. I loiter around the bungalow, which has a living room, a dining room, a kitchen, two toilets, and a huge bedroom, where Damien and I do our stuff every night.
A typical day goes like this:
In the morning, at 7am, I would wake up, and proceed to get Damien up before He runs late for work. It's been such a routine that I usually wake up within 30 seconds of 7.00. Our bed is custom-made, in an inverted L-shape according to our measurements plus allowances for movement, so that I can lie horizontally on the bed, with Damien lying vertically, His heavenly feet right beside my face.
I turn around to face Damien's feet when I wake up, and put my face in between His soles (He has no arches He is flat-footed), take a deep whiff, and watch my boner shrink back to its normal size before proceeding to clean His feet, wrinkled from all the sweating during work, so much that it is in a permanent cringe, with my enthusiastic tongue. I slide my tongue from the heel, upwards slowly, relishing in the savoury taste of His foot sweat emitted in the night. I then reach the ball of His foot, twirl my tongue around it a few times, and inch my lips to cover His big toe. I then press my tongue against the bottom of His big toe, rub vigorously, and suck in all His godly foot odour that radiates from His absolutely god-like feet. Proceeding to the other toes, sucking them one by one, I thoroughly cleanse one of His feet before moving on to the other.
After I finish cleansing Damien's holy feet, I get up, out of bed, and wash up. Then I prepare His breakfast (He'd have told me what He wanted for breakfast the night before), and while it's cooking, I return to the bedroom, and stroke His body lovingly, at the same time calling him to wake up. He'd start tossing and turning in bed, groaning at every stroke I make, which would go either on His feet, His legs, His chest down, or the sides of His body, and an occasional one over His nether areas. His dick would slowly erect as my fingers trail down his body, and finally erect fully, and he would then finally awaken, kiss me on the face, whisper Good Morning, and I'd drop to my knees and lick His soles once more. While He washes up, I set the table, put His breakfast on the dining table in the dining room, and take a packet of instant cereal, make a bowl, and go to my usual place under the dining table where His feet would usually be, and wait for him to come out of the bathroom.
When He comes out of the bedroom, with His extremely short hair protruding out of His skull, He would immediately take His place at the dining table, but not before He had walked the short distance between the bedroom and the dining room, during which I would have captured the beautiful sight of His feet in my mind, relishing the moment as I wait under the table. Imagining myself to be an insect, crawling on the floor, rooted to the ground as I see His humongous feet come stomping towards where I stand, and suddenly finding them above my head, as they come crushing down on top of me, I would immediately get a hard-on, to be further excited when He sits down at the table.
It's a routine; one that I invented, to give myself more pleasure of worshipping His feet. He would sit down on the chair; legs and feet already in place for me to caress, and flex His soles, wiggle His toes, all for my eyes, my mind, and me. It's obvious that of course I won't pass up any chance to be grovelling at Damien's feet, kissing and licking them, so I would bend down, place a cheek on the top of one of His feet, and He would automatically raise His other foot, and put it down heavily on my other cheek. It would only be a moment, after which His feet would be in my bowl of cereal, soaking up the cereal while He ate His breakfast that was dutifully placed on the table, by His humble husband and slave, me.
When His feet had spread their fragrance to every edge of the bowl, He would lift them out, and diligently, I would place my lips over His toes, and suck all the cereal out of them, of course taking in the process a reminder of His foot. I would taste His toenails one by one, tongue flicking in between them and the skin underneath, savouring the best pleasure in life tasting my husband Damien's foot. Then I would let my tongue out to do the rest, cleaning His feet, tops, soles and all, of all the cereal stuck to it. My mouth would move over His entire foot, to His heels, which I sucked on faithfully, and rarely His ankles, only when they got splashed with cereal.
By this time, He would have finished His breakfast, and would be lying on the chair legs and feet wide apart, taking a short nap. This is how loving He is: He allows me to finish my breakfast before I continue with my duties. When I finish my cereal, I would crawl up between His two open legs, pull down His shorts, and suck on His wonderful penis, carefully enveloped by His pubic hair. As I suck, He moans, and this is the indication that He is enjoying my service a lot. My tongue flicks up and down His love stick, feeling the heat emitting from it, and it gradually grows bigger and bigger. At the same time, I stroke His humongously masculine torso, making sure that my fingers give His body all the attention it deserves. Finally as He cums into my mouth, I drink it all up, leaving not a single drop behind.
He opens His eyes, looks at me, and places His foot on my crotch, rubbing it for a while, before getting up and moving off to the bedroom. I follow closely behind, crawling on my hands and knees just so that I can get a better view of His feet at work, muscles flexing with every step He takes.
In the bedroom, He sits down upon the bed again, feet raised, and I bring Him a basin of water, and diligently clean and rub His feet. It's simply an honour to be able to touch His heavenly feet, and am I not so extremely lucky to be His husband and footslave at the same time? When His feet are clean again, I bring Him His clothes, which I would have ironed the day before, after He had gone to sleep. He would wear them, with my help, of course, and then make His choice of socks for the day. Usually He would choose a pair that He had been wearing for the past week, so as to let me get the maximum amount of His foot odour possible. This is just how loving He is to me.
We go out to the hall, and He sits down in His armchair, which we specially bought so that I could service His feet anywhere in the house. I would kneel down, and He would raise His feet, sock-clad, up to my nose. I would then give each foot a slight sniff and kiss, before taking His workboots to wear on His feet. Before I put either of His feet into His boots, I would give them one final kiss for the morning. Sometimes, when I give His feet their sniff for the morning, Damien would clip my nose between His big toe and second toe, and press his sole against my mouth, during which I would lick His sock. As Damien leaves the house for work, I stare at His wonderfully huge size 12s, and drops of precum ooze from my dick.
During the time which Damien is at work, I would prepare dinner, from a list of dishes He gives me every so often, and make the bed, etc., simply put doing household chores. It's hardly ever chores now, as I wait for my God to return from work, and I can smell the foot sweat He emits during work.
It would seem like no time before the doorbell rings ding dong and I would open door, just to see my husband-cum-God Damien standing in the doorway, sweat oozing from every inch of His body. "You must be tired," I say, at my knees. He would sit down once again on that very same armchair and close His eyes, while I would bend down, and lick the dust, dirt and grime from His workboots. Then, I untie His workboots with my teeth, nose coming close to His feet at the same time. I take off His workboots by the heels using my mouth, and as I do so, the smell of His feet wafts up to my nose, and my lips brush against His perfectly wonderful soles. His foot sweat drips onto my face, and I relish that moment where He sometimes nods off and His feet fall directly onto my face.
I then hold one of His feet up to my face with both hands, and slowly but surely lick His foot, from the heels to the toes, clean of all His foot sweat. His sweat is salty, and the feeling of it flowing down my tongue and throat is simply wonderful, as wonderful as that of my tongue caressing His socks, clearly imprinted in black His foot print, and stained yellow by His sweat. Sometimes I feel sorrow at that some of His sweat is sucked up by His socks! I would so love Him not to wear socks, just His feet in His boots, but I am in no position to make a request. Following that, I would suck each of His toes diligently, and remove the sock from that foot, before repeating the procedure, this time removing any lint from His bare foot. What a hard-on both of us get! It always stains my briefs, while His tent is of course visible to me, on my knees.
Before long, I would have done the same to the other foot, and have taken off His trousers and shirt, leaving Him in His underwear. I bring His clothes and socks into the kitchen to be washed, and then resume my duties as His submissive husband, licking His body clean of all the perspiration it had expelled in the course of the day. If He was happy, He would grunt, giving me the signal to remove His underwear, lick His nether regions clean, and finally, suck on His huge 10" cock until He cums.
When He has had enough of my subservience for the moment, He would get up, and enter the bathroom for His shower while I warm His food. It's the same thing as in the morning, except that I eat noodles instead for dinner. It's simply wonderful how well His foot tastes, even when He's been through the shower and the taste is diluted by the taste of the noodles! When we're both done with our dinner, He would pick up the magazine that I would have bought when He was at work, go inside the bedroom, flop on the bed, and start to read, while I wash the dishes.
By the time I finish with the dishes, Damien would have gotten to about a third of the magazine. I would trot slowly in, right up to the side of the bed where He would be lying. I then kneel down, His godly feet right in front of my eyes. Planting a tender kiss on each of His luscious tops, I crawl onto the bed and snuggle up right between His two powerful legs. He would then raise His feet and wrap them around me, like I were His bolster. God! I sure wouldn't mind being His bolster! This action of His never fails to give me a hard-on as I feel the soles and heels of His two big meaty feet cascade down onto my vulnerable body, rubbing it as He pleased.
"Mmm" I would moan.
My arms would, too, go around His legs, stopping only when they almost touch His privates. Stroking His legs, I would look expectantly up at Him, and He would moan with pleasure, every time without fail. My hands then suddenly clasp round His dick, furiously but tenderly giving it the massage of the day, to help it, and of course my Husband Damien, relax, after a long day at work.
As Damien moans with contentment, I get an erection too, as His feet subconsciously start to rub on my back. As soon as His moans start to get louder and louder, I sense Him cumming, and instinctively release my grip, instead pulling down His briefs, revealing His rock-hard cock, fully erect and at attention before my eyes. I stroke it a few more times to let the feeling continue, before taking it wholesale into my mouth, slowly licking every inch of it, affectionately sucking on it, relishing every moment I spend with His dick in my mouth. At last, as Damien lets out a cry, "I'm cumming!", He lets go of His load, shooting it up my mouth, sticking onto the roof, and I spread it all over my tongue, tasting the saltiness and feeling the viscosity of His precious love juice, before letting it all slide down my obedient throat.
I then ask if I could have another go. If He were happy, He'd let me. If not, I'd have to satisfy myself with just that one try. I would plant a kiss on His cock, before withdrawing myself from His leglock. Taking off His briefs, I would throw them into the laundry pail, and then begin another ritual of foot worship on my godly Husband, Damien.
It's usually routine. I bury my cheeks onto His tops, to experience that great feeling of His manly feet again. I then diligently hold up one of His feet, not too much, so as not to disrupt His reading of the magazine. I'd usually stare at it for a long time, observing His sole, the patterns across it, and the occasional flex or wiggle, which makes me go hot all over. I'd then carefully place this treasure on my face, feeling the crinkled skin rub all over my face, letting all His foot sweat smother my breath, and as He grinds His foot into my face, I can never help but suddenly feel very loved and lucky.
Deep breath. Deep breath. Deep breath. Three consecutive deep breaths in a row, inhaling all of Damien's wonderful godly foot odour. It's a foot fetisher's dream, especially gay one, to find a foot partner, or husband, whose feet get smelly very quickly, and emit huge amounts of foot sweat. Would it be surprising, thus, that I relish every moment with Him? Worshipping Damien's feet had always been my ambition in life ever since I met Him, and I'd given up my other aspirations just so that I can serve Damien and His feet wholeheartedly.
After the deep breathing, I let my treasure slide slowly down my face, to my mouth. Of course, I do not waste any time, I lick His foot as it slides down my face, taking utmost pride in the moans Damien gives out. Swallowing every drop of sweat I manage to get from His super-sweaty foot, I relish in the salty taste of the liquid that surrounds me, entraps me, and subordinates me. I gently flick my tongue over every inch of His foot, making sure that I have licked His foot clean, and then I begin the process of sucking.
I always do the ball of His foot first. Exerting quite some amount of energy, I always manage to suck the balls of His feet to the extent that they appear red after. Breathing out deeply to expel all the pressure that would have accumulated, I promptly proceed to Damien's delicious-looking toes. And boy, are they delicious. Beginning with His big toe, I work my way slowly towards the end of His foot. At every toe, I stop and savour it for a minute or two, making sure I fully enjoy myself. At every juncture, my dick uncontrollably grows harder and harder. Until His last toe. He still moans. But at His last toe, He generally cums again. And of course, I hurry to take His stick of love in my mouth, enjoying the feel of something stuck inside my mouth, especially since it's my Husband's love maker. It's always a goal. How can it not be? His load would hit the roof of my mouth, and slowly drip down my throat again.
By this time, I would have finished with one foot, and while I complete the other, He finishes up His magazine. If He doesn't find anything nice to read, He may finish faster, but He generally lies back, closes His eyes, and enjoys my subservience. When I finish with both His feet, it would be the time of the day I look forward to most. Decision time. The outcome of this depends on whether Damien is tired or not, and whether He was pleased with my serving Him and His huge, meaty godlike feet.
If Damien were satisfied and not too tired, He would grant me the honour, by saying "M." If He were not, then I would be refused with a simple yawn.
I always pray endlessly for Damien to say "M" when the time comes, because it is one of the most enjoyable times of the day.
He would stand up, and raise His hands to His waist, exposing His hairy pits, which would have expelled so much sweat they would be glistening. It would be my signal to start licking His naked body. I shall not go into the process much, except say that, at the end of it all, after pit-licking and cock-sucking, I would drop to my knees again, sometimes even prostrate myself on the ground, and lick the tops of His feet, once more. Sometimes, Damien would even raise His foot, meaning that I should go underneath it, and after which He would crush me with His huge foot, grinning as he does it.
It's my luck that I got such a hunk, and a sweaty-footed one at that, for my Husband. Simply put, my life revolves around Him, or maybe His feet. I'm grateful to Him, for allowing me to worship others' feet when He is at work, provided I finish all the work I'm due. Maybe you want your feet kissed? *KIIIIIISSSSSS*
