The gate at the back of the truck slid open, light revealing rows of refrigerator boxes piled in twos lying flat along both walls and down the middle, creating two isles that looped together at the transport’s front. A small porta potty lay in the front right corner and a phone along the back wall connected to the driver. The Sneak led Enrique left to the third set of boxes from the back.
Born to poverty, the tall, muscular, twenty-five year old had no other way of getting into the United States to begin his desired acting career. The waiting list is at least a decade long for anyone with his assets. That’s why when a cousin told him about the secret fringe group operating within mabe, he jumped at the chance. It cost him all his measly savings and possessions leaving him with only the clothes on his back but this was finally the day he will be moving to Hollywood.
There was no talk between them as they reached the spot. Finally, the Sneak spoke in Spanish.
“Take off your clothes”
Startled, Enrique asked, “why?”
“There’s a hole to put your cock through. Piss has to be removed or the smell will tip off border security.”
Enrique shrugged.
The Sneak’s eyes lingered a little when Enrique peeled the shirt off his well-defined torso, his bronze latin skin covering a smooth muscular chest moving down to a washboard stomach. He slid his shorts down next, removing one foot from a sandal to pick them up with the toes of his size 15 foot before passing them into his hand.
Enrique caught the familiar glance and smirked. “Like what you see?”
“Fuck off!” snarled the Sneak, turning back to his work.
He easily pulled the end of the boxes away from the wall revealing a small trap door on one end. Opening it, he instructed Enrique to slide head first into the small compartment keeping his hands at his sides and placing his genitals in the hole at the bottom. The length of the compartment was much smaller than the box length so people had to bend their knees to fit their whole bodies inside.
Enrique was much taller than most Mexicans and his feet stuck up higher than the height of the two boxes once he was inside. While not ideal, the fringe group was prepared for this scenario.
The Sneak separated two leaves hidden at the top of the back of the box and had Enrique slide his feet up, two tight fitting holes created around his ankles when the sleeves came back together.
He shoved Enrique’s clothes and sandals into the compartment then closed and locked the trap door sliding the boxes back into place. A long line of refrigerator boxes piled two at a time forming a perfect row along the wall, seemingly ordinary but for a pair of feet sticking out of the top of one.
A mabe employee ice box for storing the worker’s food on long trips would solve that problem. It was equipped with similar leaves at the bottom. Removing the ice, the sneak secured the box around Enrique’s feet. It was a decent sized ice box but it squeezed Enrique’s feet to make them fit.
Remembering Enrique’s earlier smart-ass comment, the Sneak took a handful of ice from the ice bag and threw it on his feet before installing the final panel in the bottom.
“What the fuck?!” yelled Enrique, his feet wiggling at the unwelcome cold and wet sensation.
“That’ll teach you to keep your mouth shut” the Sneak casually commented and then added, “which is exactly what you’ll do from this moment on if you don’t want to end up in prison.”
With that the Sneak put the bag of ice back into the ice box, closed the lid and ran out, shutting the large gate behind him with a slam.
Enrique took a big breath. He was in a tiny space in the dark but it wasn’t too bad. If not for the ice making his feet colder every second and the pressure on the outside of his feet from the smaller box, he would have been perfectly comfortable. He tried to relax as a bit of cold water slid down his legs. This would be his home for the next 12-16 hours and he’d better get used to it.
-
It was nearly midnight when the gate opened and in walked the American mabe night watchman for a final inspection before departure. He slowly walked the loop, eyes scanning, mindlessly tapping the boxes here and there. When he reached the back of the trailer again he hopped out and called to the driver.
“We’re all good back here, Frank!”
“Thanks Dylan!”
With lunch in hand he jumped back in, turned the light on and shut the gate. The engine roared to a start, drowning out all other sound and the truck started off. Glancing around he walked the loop a second time more casually than before tapping boxes as he went. He tapped the sixth box from the back on the left, the fifth, and then the fourth. When he reached the third, he spotted the ice box and opened it, transferring the contents from his lunch bag into it. After closing the lid he sighed deeply and slid down the middle row of boxes, his legs extending to the wall. He tapped the third box with this foot as he glanced around the room again. The sound was different from the other boxes. He smiled. Stage Two.
Dylan was your typically all-American blue eyed, blond haired man next door. At age 28 he had a well paying job, a house with white picket fence, and a great social life. But things got bad when he developed a gambling addiction and got himself into some serious debt with the wrong people and needed to make a lot of cash fast. He was the second man in the chain of the operation and one of the only mabe employees.
He didn’t mind the work. He thought his uniform looked hot on top of his well-muscled body, built up for college football and maintained years later with regular visits to the gym and pool. The worst part was that he knew next to no Spanish but an American carrying cargo home appeared much better than a foreigner making deliveries.
His first task was to empty the urine bucket. He opened the lower compartment and removed the bucket, half full at this point, dumping it quickly down the toilet in the porta potty and placing it back, with a brief glance at the genitals hanging down from above it. He closed the trap door back up.
The second man isn’t really supposed to talk to the transport but Dylan was a social guy and he never saw any harm in it. It was a long ride after all. Unfortunately, most of the transports knew hardly any English so communication was a big barrier. Not feeling too optimistic about this one, he called out anyway.
“Hey, you ok in there?” Despite their faces being inches away and speaking through a side air hole, Dylan still had to speak loud.
No response.
“It’s ok, no one can hear us over the engine. I’m Dylan.”
There was a brief pause, then a voice came back.
“My name is Enrique.”
Dylan was impressed. His English was excellent, barely even an accent.
“Are you ok in there?” Dylan asked, genuinely concerned.
“Yeah, I’m all right.” answered Enrique.
They spent the next twenty minutes casually chatting. Dylan learned that Enrique played soccer and ran regularly. He couldn’t afford a gym but he managed to find workouts he could do from home. There mutual athleticism helped them connect. Dylan liked Enrique.
After the conversation slowed Enrique asked, “Hey man, can you do me a favour?”
“What’s that?”
“The ice is really cold on my feet, could you move it?”
Dylan was puzzled. How could Enrique feel the ice through the refrigerator box? No one else had.
“You can feel it in there?” he asked.
“Well, my feet wouldn’t fit in the fridge box so they’re in something else and the last guy threw ice on them.”
“Your feet are outside the box?!” Dylan asked, with big surprise. In all his transports, this had never happened and he wasn’t even aware of the optional addition.
He jumped up and opened the ice box lid, removing his lunch and the ice. The ice box had a bottom. Scowling, he played with the bottom and realized it was only a panel. He removed the panel and his eyes opened wide in disbelief. There at the bottom of the ice box, covered in half melted ice was a pair of huge feet pressed together and taking up the entire bottom of the box.
“Holy shit” exclaimed Dylan beginning to take in the site, his pants beginning to tent. Then remembering his task he said “don’t worry man, I’ll get that for you. What an asshole.”
“haha” Enrique smiled, appreciative of the sympathy.
Enrique’s feet wiggled a little as Dylan picked the ice cubes off his feet one by one. Dylan could swear he heard Enrique’s breathing deepen but thought nothing of it. He placed the cubes back in the bag and grabbed a paper towel from the porta potty, which he used to dry Enrique’s feet.
A sigh of relief came from the box followed by, “oh thank you. Thank you. Muchas gracias.”
“Don’t mention it.” Dylan responded.
Once the water was wiped off Dylan got a good look at Enrique’s feet.
They were really big feet. Not only narrow like most large shoe sizes but wide too. For an athlete they looked surprisingly smooth. The skin was a bit paler on the underside, going more tan as it reached the sides of the feet where Dylan imagined a much tanner top. His feet were thick too, meaty, with plump toes that burst from the ends.
Dylan could barely move his eyes away. These were a couple of the biggest, sexiest guys feet he had ever seen.
“I think you may be a bit more comfortable if I remove the ice box entirely for a while” he said.
“Are you sure about that?” asked Enrique, concerned. “maybe we should leave it on until we arrive.”
“It’ll be fine, don’t worry” answered Dylan.
Without waiting for a response he slid the leaves apart and lifted the ice box off of Enrique’s feet, allowing them to unfold fully, even bigger than when they were boxed.
“Better?” Dylan asked.
“whew” breathed Enrique, wiggling his toes and rotating his ankles in relief.
“your feet must be freezing” said Dylan. I’ll warm them for you.
“oh, that’s ok, you don’t to... oooooooooh, mmmmm” he sighed as Dylans strong hands began squeezing his soles, moving down to the heals and back up to the toes where each one was squeezed in turn. Enrique had never had a foot massage before.
“aaah, gracias. Muy bueno. You’re really good at that” said Enrique as Dylan moved to massage his other foot.”
“Thanks” said Dylan. “These are some huge feet, what size are they?” He asked as he began lighter strokes, caressing Enrique’s feet, really taking in the smooth surface.
“Um, 15 US” responded Enrique, noticing the change in pressure.
“Wow” said Dylan, removing his hands. “So that’s 15 inches from the top of your big toe to the bottom of your heal then?”
As he said this he took one finger and slowly dragged it down the length of Enrique’s right foot and back up again.
“Umm, ha ha, yeah, ha, I guess, he he” answered Enrique, his toes wiggling and ankles moving at the sensation.
“Both feet?” asked Dylan, using a second finger to run up and down Enrique’s other foot. Enrique was giggling more now.
“ha ha ha sure ha ha he.”
“It sounds like you’re pretty ticklish there Enrique, are you?” now he added another finger to each foot, two stroking up and down on each.
“ha ha ha he yes, hahaha, si, si, he he he, I’m very ticklish! ah ha ha ha. stop he he ha ha please ha ha he he por favor hahahaha NO!” Dylan was using all ten fingers now, up and down both soles.”
“oh, you shouldn’t have admitted that Enrique. Now I’m really going to have to see just how ticklish you are.”
A steady stream of laughing and giggling escaped from the refrigerator boxes after that. Dylan concentrated on his soles, attacking them with lighting fast tickles, them moving down to the heels and all around. Back up to the balls of the feet, back and forth across, then squeezing and holding each toe with one hand while the other tickled the pads and undersides. He tickled one foot then the other, then both. The laughter was loudest at the soles so he concentrated there. Now he was rock hard and wanting to release but lost in a tickle bliss. He was unsure how much time had passed when Enrique spoke next.
“HAHAHA HEHEHEHE PLEASE HAHAHAHAH POR FAVOR HAHAHA NO LOS PIES! BWAHAHAHA I’M HAHAHA GOING TO HAHAHAHA PEE HEHEHEHAHAHA!”
“Go ahead and pee then” shrugged Dylan.
He heard the stream of urine next and took mercy on the guy, slowing the tickling back to slow caresses, not wanting to remove his hand from these amazing masculine male feet. But had he gone too far? He felt a little guilty and when the bucket was quiet again he pulled himself away, bending down to open the compartment. As he did and looked inside, a big smile came across his face.
Enrique’s cock was rock hard and dripping precum.
He removed the bucket, bending Enrique’s member as the top scraped it on the way out. He placed the bucket aside and took in Enrique’s cock as he did Enrique’s feet earlier.
Like Enrique’s feet, his dick was bigger, both longer and thicker than average. It was well shaped and based by testicles, still large in spite of being tight.
Dylan reached in and ran a finger from the tip to the base on the underside followed by light tapping and tickle swirls on his testicles, very gently wrapping his hand around and barely touching as he moved up and down.
Enrique was taking in shorts gasps of air as he felt the teasing touches on his aching member.
“oh uh uh mm hu uh uh” the horny Mexican tried grinding his hips to increase the pressure but there was no room to move. “por favor, oh oh, please, mm ah mm, con presión por favor uh ha please HARDER! Oooooooooooh Yeeeeeeeah.”
Dylan obliged, squeezing the beautiful man meat dangling in front of him with the perfect pressure, stroking up and down. Then he did Enrique one better. With one hand he reached up and began stroking Enrique’s feet, throwing in the occassional wiggling tickle. A steady stream of pleasurable moaning drifting through the airholes.
Enrique was swimming in a pleasure he had never experienced. Getting hotter and hotter by the second, his cock growing thicker and his testes pulling tighter. He never wanted to cum so bad. The moment was so close. He needed it. It was coming, a few more strokes and then...nothing. Dylan had let go.
“NOOO! PLEASE! Don’t stop! Por favor! I need to cum!” pleaded Enrique, making further vain attempts to grind his hips.
“Oh, you will” responded Dylan. “But it’s not time yet.”
With that he leapt up and removed all his clothes, his own cock rock hard and dripping pre-cum. He gave it a couple tugs but contained himself, not wanting to spoil the right moment. He stood and faced Enrique’s magnificent feet again. They were so manly, so masculine, ticklish, smooth, soft, and delicious looking. All he want to do was bury his face in them and make out with them. So he plunged his face in.
He rubbed his face all over them before allowing his tongue to lap at a heel as it made it’s way slowly up the foot to the toes, licking and kissing, then back down again. Then he did the other foot.
“ooooooooooooooh mmmmmmmmmmmm yeeeeeeeah, si, si, mmmmmmmm”
Though they had a different quality from before, the moans were still unmistakably pleasurable and now mixed with brief giggles here and there. Dylan was sucking all ten of his toes now, one at a time, making little tickle wiggles on his soles here and there while he did. Then he took more toes at a time, running his tongue over, around, and in between.
It was impossible for Dylan to tell how long this went on for. He was absorbed in these manliest of feet, enjoying them to the full. It was not until he felt like he could cum without touching himself that he finally did lift his head.
He knelt down to check on the other man’s cock and seeing it again full to bursting, having dumped much more precum, he was finally ready to give himself and Enrique the release they both so badly needed and bring them both to new heights of pleasure.
He lay down on his back, putting his legs up on the middle row of boxes in order to fit and pulled his head into the lower compartment. The Mexican’s cock slid over his face until it found its was to his lips, which parted in welcoming, and he took the man fully into his mouth, enveloping, slurping and sucking, giving the most pleasure he was capable of.
“OOOOOOOOOOOOOOH FUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAH YOU’RE OOOOOOOOH I’M GONNA CUM!”
With one hand wrapped around his own bursting cock, Dylan felt in his mouth the shaking latin meat and knew just how to tongue it for coaxing. He swallowed load after load of the horny sexy Mexican’s cum, enjoying it all while he shot his own loads, one right after another.
Finally, the men were spent, both panting, exhausted. They each lay where they were catching their breaths. Dylan was unsure how Enrique would react. He waited until the Mexican spoke first. He was relieved with his first words.
“<pant pant>, gracias, <breath>, thank you. aaaaaaah that was incredible.”
Dylan smiled. He pulled out of the lower compartment and emptied the bucket in the porta potty, placing it back and closing the trap door. When he rose he looked down at Enrique’s feet again. Reaching out he began to massage the giant’s feet. Hey, he owed them (him) at least that for all the pleasure they just gave him.
“mmmmmmmmmmmmmm” came out of the box.
Dylan started to get a little hard.
He let go and went to the front end of the trailer. He picked up the phone to call the driver.
“Hey Frank, I forgot my watch. How much longer till the border?”
“Sorry bud but there’s a bad accident ahead and traffic is shit. If we’re lucky it’ll be another four hours to the border and at least that long again in line.”
“Ok, thanks for the update Frank.”
Dylan hung up and walked back toward box three. He smiled. There was even more time left than he expected. He was pretty sure he could find a way to fill it.
