Men's feet & socks @mensfeetsock2019 - Tumblr Blog

[Part 1]

You started a new job where you met Tyler, a hot tall guy with at least size 13 feet. He was so charismatic and confident you had a big crush on him. Since you both worked in the team you always saw him and had conversations with him.

One day you told him that you think he is good looking and if he would be interested to go oit on a date with you. He smirked and rolled his eyes without giving any answer. You thought he might be straight or not looking for a relationship.

The next day he kept staring at you and smiling for most of the day. At some point you were both alone in your office.

"So about that date you invited me on yesterday, would you be interested if you came back with me home tomorrow. It's Friday and you can come spend the weekend if you want."

"Ohh. I thought you weren't interested in me or something. I would love to spend some time with you so yeah sure."

Again he smirked and gaved you a pat on the back without saying anything else. You were so excited by hus invite, after work you rushed home to prepare yourself. You shaved and moisturized your body so that you are ready for this hot weekend.

On Friday Tyler didn't speak much to you. After work you followed to his car. The drive was silent and he was smiling the whole time. You thought he was nervous and didn't want to make uncomfortable.

You arrived at his place and get out of the car. You were carrying your luggage and he opened the door.

"Honey, I'm home."

You were completely shocked by what you just heard. Seconds later a man was hugging and kissing Tyler while you stood there watching not understanding what was happening in front of you. After that Tyler looked at you smiling.

"Babe, that's my coworker... the one that asked me out. He will join us for the weekend as we agreed."

"Ohh let me introduce myself to our guest, didn't even see him there. Hey I'm Axle, Tyler's husband. Nice to meet you... I forgot your name... doesn't matter keep your luggage here, you won't need them."

You couldn't respond. Tyler is married to a gorgeous man. All you could see in front of you was an alpha couple, two powerful sexy men together. What you didn't understand was how you fit in this situation, what was your role, why where you here.

"Hey. Nice to meet Axle. Didn't know Tyler was married, but you too seem perfect together."

"We sure do, and that's why you are here. We are missing something... or should I say someone."

Axel and Tyler went back to kissing passionately. Your dick was starting to get hard from seeing them clearly in love. But you didn't understand what do they mean and what are you here for.

They started walking to the living room and Tyler signaled for you to follow them. You followed them as they mad their way inside and sat on the couch. You approached them when Axel gave you a sharp look.

"Floor. You sit on the floor."

"What do you mean? Why would I sit on the floor?"

"Because I said so. What do you think you are here for boy? Tyler told me you are a bit slow so I guess I'll spell it out. You are a loser beta. Tyler amd I are a successful alpha couple. You are here to worship and serve us. You are here to be owned by us. So you have less than a minute to sit on the floor or see your way out."

Listening to that made you rock hard. You didn't think about what he said as you were so horny and since you needs to hide your boner you sat on yhe ground trying your best to hide it.

"I told it would be easy to have them at our feet babe. We should have done that sooner."

"I agree. Look at him trying to hide that dicklet from us. How should we deal with that?"

"If he want to have the present I bought him today he needs to get rid of it. Maybe he'll jerk it off while he watch us make out."

"Hear that boy? Don't make my man wait."

You mindlessly took your dick out and started to stroke it watching them making out. They were completely ignoring you while they confess their love to each other and kiss. They were perfect. They were everything you never had. You jerked while you fantasized about being used by them.

Then you came all over the floor as they continued to make out and cuddle. You stayed there without moving or making a sound. At some point they finally acknowledged your existence again.

"That was fast boy. Didn't expect you to last any longer though. Now lick your cum off our floor and get naked."

You followed through without any second thoughts. Both of them together where so powerful for you to even think about resisting. After you got naked Axle pulled something from the drawer next to him and throw it your way. You held it amd discovered ot was a chastity cage. Again without thinking much you put it on.

"Pathetic. I've never seen anyone with such eagerness to be nothing. A cuck. A loser cuck. That's what you are."

"Cuck pet? Fits better."

"Yeah babe. You are our cuck pet boy. Bow. Bow and submit to us."

Before Axle finished his sentence you were bowing before them. You heard them laughing followed by some whispers amd kisses. You didn't dare to got up and you stayed like bowing for a long time.

"Up cuck pet."

You got up to see them both shirtless. Their ripped alpha bodies were perfect. But it wasn't just that as they were both resting their bare feet on the coffee table.

You already knew that Alex had big feet but they were even bigger than you thought. His toes were long and sexy and his sole was meaty. Axle on the other hand had a smaller foot. His toes were symmetric and his sole looked soft and meaty.

You were in heaven. Your dick was straining against your new cage and leaking already. You were before two alpha men and you couldn't wait to start worshipping them.

(Story suggestion by: @tidodore2)

subfootboii

You've never been on good terms with your brother in law, Clark. He never liked you and always treated you poorly and sometimes belittled you in front of everyone.

After your wedding, he left to live abroad for a while. During that time, you started to realize that you are into men as well, but what interests you in men is feet specifically, but sex remained for women.

After Calrk came back and settled down in your town, he invited over for a man's night. You went there excited, hoping you can make your relationship better.

He opened the door and let you into the living room. Before you could sit down, he started talking.

"So I recently got a message from a friend of mine. He saw the last picture I had on Instagram with the whole family, and he knew you. Apparently, he's been selling you foot pics for a while. What do you have to say for yourself?"

"You can't tell you sister about this. She will kill me."

He slapped your face.

"If you don't start speaking I will kill you myself."

"Okay, okay. A while back, I realized I'm bisexual, but I'm only into man's feet, I've never done anything sexual. Please believe me."

"A faggot. You're either a faggot or a man. There is no in-between. And you pump your cock to a man's foot. So you are a faggot, say it, loud and proud."

"I don't think we should be using this word. Let's deal with this as adults please."

He slapped you again and grabbed your throat.

"Say it."

"I'm a faggot. I'm a faggot."

"Was it hard? See. Now we can talk. If my sister knew about this, she would divorce you and strip you of everything you have. I might not be your biggest fan, but I can make you a deal. You know I don't do girlfriends I just fuck whoever I wamt whenever I want, so I can use a faggot for my domestic work. I'm close to your place. You pass by in the morning to clean and after work to cook. Every day you do a good job, you get my big manly alpha feet. Fair deal? Ah, and you stop finding men online to pay for foot pics. You can pay me instead for each day you serve me."

"I don't think I have any other choice. Can I think about it? Maybe I can find another solution or something."

"Listen faggot. I was minutes away from telling everyone about you. I couldn't care less about you, but I don't want drama. Let's be real here you will be hard while cleaning my apartment and cooking for me. We both know it, and I don't even have to offer my feet. You faggots are turned on by anything you do to men like me. I will now sit down and rest my feet. You will either kneel down and worship them or go out and choose divorce."

He sat down and rested his massive shoes on the table. You had forgotten how big his feet were. You knelt down and took them off, and with a strong musky smell, you laid your eyes on his huge feet and long toes. He didn't have any socks on making his feet smell leathery and sweaty.

You took a big whiff and lent to his soles and started kissing them. It was your first time kissing feet, as you only used to buy pictures and jerk off to them. You livid your fantasy licking and kissing his feet with pleasure all while he watches the game.

He stopped you at some point and asked for a foot massage, which you gladly gave him. By the end of the game, he removed his feet.

"Enough for today, maybe even the whole week. Today was an exception tomorrow. You come in time to clean before work, and you come and cook after. I have someone coming to join for dinner so the food better be good. Now get the fuck out."

subfootboii

He kept me on read for a week.

I sent the first message on a Tuesday. Something casual, like I hadn't been thinking about it for weeks before I typed it. He didn't respond. I sent another one Thursday, less casual. Nothing. By Sunday I'd stopped pretending the waiting was fine and just asked plainly, the way he'd told me to ask. Still nothing.

Then yesterday, one line. Free this afternoon if you want to come by.

I told my manager I felt sick and left.

He opened the door in grey shorts and nothing else.

He stepped back. I walked in.

No smile. No good to see you.

"Hey Mitch. How are you doing?"

He was already walking to the dining table. He sat, leaned back, and put his feet up on the surface between us. Arms behind his head.

"Let's get this over with. Get your shrimp out and stand over there."

He pointed to other side of the table, facing his soles.

I stood where he pointed.

I undid my jeans and pushed them down.

He hadn't looked at me since he sat down. Eyes on his phone, feet crossed at the ankle on the table between us. Like I wasn't there yet.

I'd been fully hard since he replied.

He glanced up, down, back to his phone. Almost a smile.

"Yeah, that tracks."

I didn't say anything.

His feet were right there. I knew them. The shape of them, the weight, the way the arch curved. I'd thought about them more than his face over the past year.

I took a step closer. He didn't stop me.

He'd let me do this twice since we broke up. He knew what I was when he ended it, knew I'd come back for this specifically. So every few months, after enough begging, he'd send that one line and I'd come over. Third time now. It had never once felt like enough.

I got on my knees. Started at his heels. Kissed my way up slowly.

His sole was warm. I licked it heel to toe, slow, making sure I got every inch. Then his toes, one by one. I took my time. I had nothing else.

I was already leaking while I played with my cock.

He still hadn't looked at me.

"You're so fucking easy."

I didn't stop.

He had a word for my cock. A few, actually, shrimp, dicklet, tiny thing, depending on his mood. That's why he never let me top him. Not once, not even when I begged. 'You don't bottom for a shrimp'. He'd said that too, exactly like that, and I'd never forgotten it.

After around half an hour I was getting close.

"You're gonna cum already aren't you."

"Yes"

"Figured. Go on then."

I pressed my face on his soles while I licked them making my way up again to his toes.

I came on his floor with his toes in my mouth, letting out a soft moan.

"Did you cum?"

"Yes."

"You know what to do."

I bent down and licked my mess off the floor.

"Crawl over here."

I did. I crawled across his floor and stopped at his feet.

He lifted them off the table and planted them either side of me. Rotated the chair. Legs apart, relaxed. The grey shorts had shifted enough that I could see the outline of his cock through the fabric.

I already knew what I was there for.

He slid his hand into my hair and pressed my face into his crotch and held it there.

I breathed him in.

"Look at you."

He let go. Put both hands behind his head.

"Suck it."

I hooked my fingers into the waistband and pulled his shorts down slowly. He lifted his hips just enough to let me.

I took him in my mouth.

At some point his hand came back to my hair. Then he gripped it, twisted my head up.

He held the phone in front of my face.

Two photos. The first of me sucking his toes. The second of me sucking his cock. Two replies underneath.

'lmaoo'

'he's so pathetic babe 😭'

He watched me read it for a moment. Smirk on his face. Then he pushed my head back down.

"Doesn't have to beg for it like you do."

He twisted my head back down and fucked my mouth for a few minutes. He then gripped my hair again and pushed me back.

I sat on my knees and watched.

He then jerked off with his hand, eyes on the ceiling. I stayed where he'd put me and didn't move. Didn't touch myself. Just watched him do what I hadn't been good enough to finish.

He came on his own stomach. Some on the floor.

He didn't look at me.

He reached for a shirt off the back of the chair and wiped himself down.

"You good to see yourself out?"

I stood up. Pulled my jeans back up. My legs were stiff.

He was already back on his phone.

I closed the door behind me.

In a few months I'd try my luck again.

subfootboii

I got the call from reception just after noon; room 412, AC unit down. I grabbed my kit and headed up, hoping it was a simple fix. Middle of summer, guest in the room. Nobody's patient when it's hot.

I knocked. A few seconds passed before the door swung open.

He was tall and built. Shirtless, dark pants, a chain on his neck. Tattoos down one arm.

"AC guy?"

"Yes, sir. I mean Mr. Langford. Here to take a look. Sorry for the inconvenience."

He said nothing to that. Just stepped aside.

I set my toolbox down beside the unit and got to work. It was only when I crouched to open the panel that I noticed him settled into the chair across the room, feet propped on the coffee table, eyes on the TV.

His feet were on the table directly in my eyeline. I looked back at the panel.

The filter was clogged. Not surprising for a unit this age. I pulled it out, set it aside, and reached for my tools. Standard job. Twenty minutes, maybe less.

The machine hummed back to life, unsteady at first, then settling.

I should have been done.

Instead I found myself slowing down. Rechecking things that didn't need checking. I told myself it was thoroughness.

His feet hadn't moved. Neither had he. The TV murmured something I couldn't follow.

I shifted my weight to reach the side panel and his feet came back into my line of sight. Wide soles. The arch, clean and deep. Toes that sat naturally, unhurried, like everything else about him.

I looked at the panel.

I looked back.

He still hadn't looked at me.

My work was done. The AC running steadily, cold air already pushing through the vents.

"All finished, Mr. Langford. Just running a few final checks."

He didn't reply.

I looked at his soles where they rested against the table edge, facing me. I had nothing left to do. But I reached for my screwdriver anyway, found a panel screw, unscrewed it, and screwed it back. Bought myself another minute.

I did it again.

Every few turns I'd glance over. Just the soles. The way the arch curved where it lifted off the table. The weight of him behind them, completely unbothered.

I should have packed up ten minutes ago.

Instead I let myself look one last time. My mind drifted away, imagining his foot on the back of my neck, my face against the floor, his weight settling on me like I was something to rest on. Like I was furniture.

I stayed there too long. When I came back, Mr. Langford was looking at me.

He hadn't moved. Hadn't said anything. He'd just been watching. Long enough that I didn't know when it started.

"I wondered how long that would take."

I froze.

My hand was still on the screwdriver. I hadn't moved. Couldn't.

He hadn't said it with anger. That was the part that made it worse. No threat in his voice, no shift in his posture. He was still reclined, feet still on the table, like he'd said something completely unremarkable.

I didn't move.

He didn't say anything. Just looked at me, then down at the floor beside the coffee table. A small tilt of his head. That was all.

I should have stood up. Gathered my tools. Said something professional and left.

Instead I crawled on my hands and knees, to the spot he'd indicated, and when I got there I didn't know what to do. He put his heel on top of my head and pressed down. My forehead touched the floor.

His feet rested on my back after.

He went back to the TV.

I don't know how long I stayed like that. Long enough that my knees ached.

Then his soles stomped the back of my head a few times. Then I got a kick that flipped me over to my back.

He stood. Stepped on me without looking down. Walked toward the bathroom. At the door he paused, and without turning around he pointed two fingers, toward the exit.

Then the bathroom door closed.

I picked up my toolbox and left.

subfootboii

I'd known Erik for six years. We met at a mutual friend's birthday, ended up talking until the bar closed, and that was it. We'd been close ever since.

The breakup with Luka had hit him harder than he let on. I could tell because he stopped bringing it up. Erik didn't go quiet when things were fine.

I suggested the mountain house. His family had a place up there. The city wasn't helping. Too many places that would remind him of things. Too many people who would ask.

He said yes without thinking about it.

He drove. Four hours with the weather already turning, sky low and grey by the time we hit the mountain roads. He didn't talk much, but that was fine.

The house was cold when we unlocked it. Erik went straight to the heating panel, then upstairs to shower. When he came back down the heat hadn't caught up yet, he had his puffer on over his pyjama pants, a trapper hat, but bare feet. He dropped onto the sofa letting out a sigh.

I grabbed my things and went up to shower.

When I came back down he hadn't moved. Stretched out across the sofa, feet up on the far cushion. Outside the storm had settled into something steadier.

I sat at the other end. His feet came to rest against my leg.

I'd seen them plenty of times before. The beach last summer, sleepovers, lazy Sundays on someone's couch. They were my type. Long toes, high arch, smooth soles. I'd never said anything about it.

"How are you doing?"

"Better. Good to be out of there."

We talked for a while. At some point Luka came up.

"I don't even know if I miss him. The idea of it. That's what I miss. What I thought it was going to be."

I didn't say anything. He shifted against the cushions and looked at the ceiling. His foot moved against my leg, just a slow press.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"You've got a thing. With feet."

He looked at me.

"I've noticed it. For a while. I wasn't going to say anything, but... I don't know. It seemed like a good night to ask."

I didn't answer right away.

"Yeah."

He didn't move his feet.

"So what do you actually do with it?"

"Erik."

"I'm asking."

He looked back at the ceiling.

"It's just like any other thing. I don't get why people make it weird."

"I'm not shaming you. I'm curious."

"It's... I don't know. Smell them. Touch them. Kiss them."

"Okay. I've been told I have nice feet."

He put both feet in my lap.

"What do you think?"

"I don't want to make this weird."

"Wait, do you think they're ugly?"

"No."

He flexed his toes slowly, watching me.

I put my hands on his soles. They were soft, bigger than I expected up close. I started to rub them slowly.

I could see him watching me from the corner of my eye. He didn't say anything.

I worked my thumb along his arch. He let me. After a moment he raised his left foot and rested it against my jaw. Then dragged it slowly up across my face.

I kept rubbing his right foot.

He pressed his left foot against my nose. I breathed in.

He held it there for a second, then lowered it down, letting his big toe settle against my lips.

I didn't move.

"Go ahead."

I opened my mouth and took it in. Started sucking on it slowly.

He exhaled through his nose. Still watching me.

He removed his toes from my mouth and pointed down at the floor. I got down off the sofa. Onto my knees at the end of it, facing him, his feet right in front of me.

I bent down and put my mouth on his sole.

I worked slowly. His arch, his heel, back up to his toes. Both feet. I took my time. He let me. I could hear the storm outside and nothing else.

At some point he put one hand behind his head. Completely still. Completely at ease.

I kissed along his sole and took his toes back in, one at a time. My hands wrapped around his foot and I stayed there, on the floor, at his feet.

"You know what? I could get used to this."

subfootboii

guyfeettoegasm

So large. Mmm

subfootboii

I carried the groceries up and let myself in. I've had the code to this place since he moved in, and the key to the one before it. Sunday is when I come.

I put everything away where it belongs. Washed the fruit and veg, wiped down the counter, made a note of what was running low for next week.

He was still asleep.

We were roommates in college. He was on the rugby team. The room was always a mess and at some point it became mine to deal with. The dorm, the shared kitchen, the errands. Ten years ago.

I started on the cooking first as I had a full week worth of meals to prepare. I had the stove going before I touched anything else.

Started cleaning the living room while the first pot came to a boil. Surfaces, the shelf above the TV, the windows. Floor. Back to the kitchen, I checked the heat, stirred, started chopping the veggies. Seasoned, adjusted, set a timer.

He came out of the bedroom around ten. I heard his footsteps going to the bathroom.

He showered for around thirty minutes. When he came out he had a towel around his waist and didn't look at me. Opened the fridge, stood there for a moment, closed it. Pulled on a shirt in the doorway of his bedroom. He'd always been big. Chest, shoulders, arms. I kept my eyes on the counter.

He picked up his keys and left. The door closed and the flat went quiet.

I went to the bedroom. Stripped the bed, fresh sheets on, straightened, floor, surfaces. The bathroom after. Toilet bowl, the rim, the tank. Sink, taps, mirror. The tiles. His products wiped down and put back in order. His towels in the wash, fresh ones folded on the rail.

The laundry ran while I cooked. I went back and forth, checking temperatures, adjusting heat, portioning into containers, stacking them by the day. Hoovered the bedroom, the hallway, the living room again once it was fully dry. Mopped after. Went back to the kitchen to start the next batch.

He'd figured it out in college. Third or fourth month in. He came back from training, dropped on the couch, feet up on the table like he always did. I was folding the laundry while eyeing his feet. He clocked it. Things got different after.

It started with the dorm. The cleaning, the errands. After graduation we lived together for another year. Then he moved for work. Different city, different flat. I thought that would be it. He texted me two weeks later with his new address. Sundays became standard.

The food was done by early evening. Boxed by meal, stacked in the fridge, labeled by day. I scrubbed the hob, the oven, inside the microwave. Cleaned the sink, dried every surface. Dishes washed and put away. Bin out, new bag in. I went through the flat once more. Checked the bathroom, straightened the bedroom doorway.

I was wiping down the kitchen counter when I heard his key in the door.

He came in and dropped his jacket on the hook. Went to the fridge, opened it, looked at the containers stacked by day. Stood there for a moment. Closed it. He moved to the living room without saying anything.

I finished the counter. Rinsed the cloth, wrung it out, folded it over the tap. Took a breath.

Then I went to him.

He was in the armchair, arms crossed, one leg resting over the other. He didn't look up.

I lowered myself to my knees.

"Done, Master."

He didn't move for a moment.

Then he shifted his leg and extended his foot toward me. Sole forward. His feet were huge. Wide at the ball, dry at the heel, the arch deep. Long toes, the second stretching just past the first.

I put out my tongue.

Heel to toe. One slow lick. The skin was warm and dry. He didn't move, didn't make a sound. His leg stayed exactly where it was.

Then he pulled back.

He reached for his phone. I stayed on my knees for a moment, then stood. Picked up my bag from the hallway. Let myself out.

I'd been there eleven hours. I had a two-hour drive home.