Foot Face-Fucker - Chapter 2
by GSK hot4bm@yahoo.ca
The summer stayed hot. Mel's Service Garage across the street finally shut down and the two old owners retired. While they waited for the bidding war on their property to reach the maximum price, they kept Ken on to do occasional work for their oldest regular customers. This was fine with me, because it meant we kept having play sessions, mostly in the garage.
I was feeling horny before he called me that Friday. It had been a lazy day off hanging around the house, sweltering in its pathetic air conditioning. By mid-afternoon I was restless. I was overjoyed to hear his voice but I kept my cool. It sounded like he was at his other job - I could hear male voices in the background. He said, "I'll be at the garage around six. I've got some work to do so come over around seven."
"Okay. I'll be there."
"I gotta go." He spoke in a menacing growl: "Clean up your feet. Trim your nails." He hung up.
I stood there, a bit surprised by his order that I clean myself. If anything, I scrub and slough more since I met him. I knew some guys probably get off on dirty feet, but not Ken from what I could tell.
Walking across to Mel's I saw as usual the tarps had been dropped over the windows in the service bay doors. I used the customer entrance, locking it behind me, and went through the passage into the service bay. It was relatively cool and dim in the high-ceilinged garage, where I found another surprise: Ken looked incredible, almost unrecognizable. He was in his white boxers and a slightly loose black muscle shirt that dropped off his pecs. His usually wild black hair had been cut and his beard was trimmed down around his jaw. His face radiated a new intensity. His upper body hair had been buzzed down, too - a quarter-inch stubble dusted his big, rocky pecs and firm abdomen.
I walked over to him. A fluorescent light barely cut the twilight gloom. There was a long white rag tucked in his waistband. Normally he wore socks but tonight he was in his grey steel-toed workboots. He towered over me in my running shoes. I looked down at his massive legs, eyeing his long, powerful hamstrings as I walked around him to the fridge.
"That's good you wore the wool socks," he said. He had given me the socks a few weeks before. I helped myself to a beer. A baseball game played on a little TV. I like the garage, the smell of gas and oil, the cement floor. We watched a few batters - neither of us sat down. "You should take your clothes off," he said when the third inning ended. "Leave your socks on."
I shucked my shoes, shorts and t-shirt and followed him into the shadows. He motioned me to climb onto a work stool. These stools are black leather seats with a short black back-rest on a metal post. You can pump them from floor level to quite high. I sat my naked butt down, expecting him to give me a massage.
It was very dark. He stood behind me and told me to put my hands up. I smiled and raised my palms like I was under arrest. He grabbed my wrist and belted a leather strap around it. The strap was attached to a chain hung from the ceiling. Another strap was on my left, hanging from another chain of the same length - Ken strapped my other wrist to it. I was sitting there with my arms bound and spread up and out, my wrists hanging from the chains, my elbows slightly bent.
He took his belt off his jeans that were lying there. He strapped it tightly around my waist and fixed it to the seat post. My back was now firmly pressed into the back-rest. Instinctively I struggled a bit, tried to shift my weight. The belt kept my legs from being able to raise my ass. My feet were planted on the chrome ring around the stool legs. I was trapped, too high on the chair to stand up, but I could still kick. I started breathing hard - I was either too surprised or too turned on to speak.
He moved into the dark and flipped on the harsh buzzing light high above me. I could see him even less now as he moved around. I heard a loud rattling noise and in a few seconds a chain lowered itself in front of me to the left, then another to the right. Ken appeared with two more leather cuffs. He fixed them to the chains, then lifted my leg by the calf. He spread my right leg out and to the side, and cuffed my ankle to the chain. He did the same with my left.
Now I was absolutely stuck - naked except for my grey wool socks, my arms high and spread out, my legs spread apart hanging in front of me, my lower back strapped tightly to the back-rest. I noticed that my dick was rigid. So did Ken; he stared at it as he walked around me and lowered his clean-smelling nipple to my mouth. I teasingly lapped it into stiffness. He grunted and plucked at my nips. "You're gonna like Brad," he murmured into my ear.
I felt panic rising in my chest. "Who's Brad?"
He just chuckled and put his stiff nipple against my lips. I smelled his armpit's fresh sweat, mouthed his firm pec. "Yeah, I think so," Ken said, deciding to draw the long white rag across my mouth and gag me with it before I could even move my neck.
"Fuckin' Brad - he's crazy. " He gently tucked more of the rag into my mouth and secured it by doubling it back and tying it. Shit - I felt stupid for letting him do this to me. At least before now I could talk. Who was this Bradley and what was he planning to do? I couldn't even protest now.
He moved in front of me and leisurely massaged my feet through the grey wool socks, pausing now and then to take a whiff. The sun was all the way down now. Ken walked away and got himself a beer from the fridge. Headlight beams swung across the garage through the gaps in the window tarp and I heard a car pull up and stop. In a few seconds there was a loud knock on the customer service door. I growled uselessly, struggling. I watched Ken's silhouette cross the room.
I was hyper-alert for every sound, Ken's boots going to the front, the door unlocking and opening. "Bradley!" I heard him say. "How're you doin', Bud?" Then I couldn't make out their mumbling until, all too soon, they came in. I was under the glare of the light and could barely see them.
"Holy fuck," a strange voice said, and started laughing. He kept his voice down. "Jeez, man. This is what we're gonna play? Wow."
I swallowed hard when he moved into the light. His form was framed by my obscenely spread legs. He was tall, a red-head, with a thick neck, square-jawed freckled face and a buzzcut. His white t-shirt clung to his muscled shoulders. I swallowed hard again when I saw his solid, bulging arms. Was I about to get the shit kicked out of me? Ken swaggered up, feeling the beer now and enjoying himself. "Bradley, this is Jack."
"Hi, Jack. Call me Brad, only pussies call me Bradley." My cock was half-hard against my thigh. I could feel my face burning. He quit laughing and stared at me for a long time. He pulled his t-shirt off, giving me an amazing view of his pits and triceps. He had a dusting of reddish body hair, not enough to obscure his muscle definition. He stepped out of his khaki shorts, leaving his underwear on. I couldn't help but look down at his black workboots. "You like boots?" he said. I could only stare.
Ken moved behind me and started slowly brushing his thumb against my nipple, his hand resting on my chest. With his other hand he swigged his beer. Brad's hands were on my legs. "Big legs on him, eh? You do squats? Do ya?" I nodded, feeling too naked with these guys in their boxers casually molesting me. "Fuckin' big arms, too, big lats, everything." He slapped my thigh, making my dick jump. "Does he work in a firehall?"
"No," said Ken, slowly thumbing my nips. "But he works out a lot. He's bigger now than when I met him." He leaned down and brushed his tongue on my other nipple. I was rock hard now. "Brad, you like those socks he's got on?"
Brad stared over my head at Ken, breathing. After a long time he said, "Those wool socks you were talking about?"
"Yeah man, the ones I gave him. The ones he's wearing."
Brad's hand moved down to my ankle, brushing my sock, but he didn't take his burning eyes off Ken. "The ones on his feet right now, you mean." He had a animal look in his eye.
I felt my panic rising. Brad was a handsome fucker but he was a freak. Then he suddenly moved away. I felt sweat dripping down my flanks. I watched his big, rocky body as he clomped over to the fridge. He opened a beer and briefly looked at the baseball game. He came back, pulled up a stool, sat down, and took off my sock. He stuck it into his mouth. He checked out my naked foot, looked briefly into my eyes, then at Ken. "Holy shit."
"I told you," said Ken.
Brad kept staring at my right foot. I felt the hot air from his nostrils. His tongue crept out and gently rooted around the base of my big toe. "Holy shit. You were right. Small and fuckin' hot."
"I told you, man. He's like a size 8."
Brad peeled off my other sock. He said something about my long straight toes, how shorter guys usually have stubby toes but not me. "The skin's so smooth too, he takes care of these. You work on these, don't you? I'd like to watch that." He looked around and found my runners. He picked them and sniffed both of them deeply, an erection beginning to tent his shorts.
He sat again and chowed down on all the toes of my left foot except the big one. A shockwave went up my hanging leg. He grunted, ploughing his mouth up and down. He sucked down and his teeth pulled the skin under the balls. I moaned against the gag, my toes scrambling around his teeth and tongue. He stopped eating and blew air. My feet flexed involuntarily in his hands. I was used to Ken's slow seductions, not this kind of assault. My dick was rock hard.
Ken dribbled silicon lubricant onto my stiffened nips. When his big thumbs went down on them my exposed butthole contracted and my dick bounced against my abdomen. Brad watched this and grinned, his tongue hanging out before it started a dry, sandpapery exploration of every side of every toe spread by this thick freckled fingers. He sat there with his eyes closed eating me like that, becoming more relaxed as I became more horny, frantic and trapped. He never took his hand off one foot while he sucked the other. He moaned with no idea how the vibrations of his voice made my dick leak. "Fuckin' perfect feet," he mumbled, nibbling up and down my instep.
Ken bent down and said in a horny voice,"How're you doin', Jack?" I could only look helplessly at him and hyperventilate. He gave into my silent begging and opened his mouth at me. "Yeah," I whimpered - or tried to. I wanted his lips so fucking bad. He moved next to Brad. I thought I was going to pass out, watching these two big studs jockey for position, Ken shifting his chair over and Brad lifting my ankle to where he wanted it, spreading my legs even further. In their hands, the two of them gazing at me with their lips parted and hungry -- I'd never felt so naked or trapped.
There was no mercy. Ken ate my right foot and Brad ate my left. They were engrossed. Neither of them paid any attention to what the other was doing - they each did their own thing, alternating lazy and vigorous. My toes curled and spread against their stubbled jaws, their noses. Brad got into lightly chewing the pad of my heel while watching my reaction. Ken's lower teeth smoothly grazed the undersides of my crazy toes, which he violently sucked up and tongued wet.
Brad said he liked my high arches and he stroked them with his big tongue. He held my big toe away with his thumb and the lower part of his index finger. Then he sucked up my other four toes. He made his tongue really hard and flicked it brutally against the stretched fleshy areas between my toes. Ken chewed and chewed my heel, even getting his molars involved.
I felt demented with lust, my mouth hanging open. My legs flexed against the restraints. I don't know how long it went on, this double oral rape of my feet. They both started pulling on their cocks, turning to face each other with their mouths full of me. Brad moved to Ken and they licked my left foot together, their tongues lapping against each other's between my toes. Brad's pale cudgel poked out of the leg of his shorts, his strong hand palming the head, biceps bulging like cantaloups. Ken watched him, smiling with his mouth full.
They finally let go of me. Ken leaned back on his boots and stroked himself hard and fast. While he beat his cock, Brad picked up one of my socks, sniffed it deeply and used it to wipe off my feet. Ken turned away. I panted, grateful for the break.
But they didn't seem to be able to stop themselves. "Fuckin' nice," Brad said, rubbing my sole. Ken went back to smearing slick lube around my nips with his rough thumb. My nips were hard as stone at his relentless teasing touch. I grunted wildly, hornier than I thought possible. Brad disappeared into the darkness.
I heard him come up behind me and whisper something. "Yeah," said Ken, and he unstrapped the belt from around my waist. I was able to shift my butt a bit - it felt good.
Ken said into my ear, "Bradley and I can get into some hard shit."
Brad walked around in front of me carrying the wide black belt doubled up in his hand. He slapped his palm with it a couple of times, looking at me. I knew what was coming and I gave him a defiant look. He lightly slapped the sole of my foot with the belt. I didn't react, as if it felt like nothing. He slowly began strapping my soles, randomly switching between them. My feet were still buzzing from the sucking - the leather belt felt incredible.
The strokes got gradually harder and the cracking noise grew louder. I was reacting now, jerking my legs around with the limited movement I had. Ken kept up his leisurely assault on my nipples between gulps of beer.
Brad held the sole of my foot and belted the top, hard. I saw sparks - the sensation was overwhelming. He said I obviously liked getting my tough little size eights paddled. I could only moan in shocked agreement.
He let go of one end of the belt so it was no longer doubled-up. Stepping back, he swung it like he was firing a fastball. The end of it cracked against my sole. I yelled through the gag. He stepped back and whipped the other foot with the same force. My entire body was on fire.
Ken had been made very horny by this. He went around and ate my right foot while Brad whipped the left. As he whipped he laughed and stuck his tongue out at me. Ken switched to eating my left foot and Brad started hitting the right. You perverts, I thought, sweat running into my eyes. Ken sucked on my instep and the belt came harder and faster.
"Okay," said Brad, pulling the chair up again. While Ken sucked my two smallest toes, Brad pulled off his boots and socks. He lifted his huge pale feet and wrapped his incredibly long toes around either side of my cock. The hot balls of his feet gripped my erection, moving up and down the length. My sole rested on his chest; he sucked up all five of my toes and gobbled them like he was starving. He bobbed his square head up and down, his bulky trapezius muscles flaring out.
I had both studs sucking me now and one stroking me off with his giant muscled peds. It didn't take long before I screamed through the gag and shot large amounts of hot jizz all over my chest and that handsome fucker's long relentless toes. He playfully pressed his sole against my slick spent prick, pressing it into my belly.
Ken had a desperate look. His lip was curled and his eyes were locked on mine. He stripped off his boxers and walked up to me so his hard dick was pressed into my sole. He grabbed my ankle and masturbated his big thick dick with my foot - they were practically the same length. My toenails grazed the stubble on his firm gyrating abdomen. His rigid cock felt incredible, better than I had fantasized. I stretched my toes so his oozing slit poked between them, used my smooth muscled sole to massage his shaft. "Fuck you," he grunted. He seized my other foot, bent his head, and sucked up a few toes. He moaned loudly and his teeth sunk in as his boiling jizz coated my toes and sole.
The only sounds were the three of us catching our breath and the faint noise of the ball game. "Whooo," said Ken, shaking the last drops off his cock. We all just kind of looked at one another. Cool and relaxed as they had been, now they seemed as stunned as I at the intensity of what we'd done.
Brad wiped his feet with a paper towel. They moved over to the TV and got more beer. Watching them from a distance I couldn't get over how big they both were, like bodyguards or bouncers. Barefoot, Brad was as tall as Ken, who was still wearing his boots. Otherwise Ken was still naked and his dark, hard, massive glutes pulsed with every step. I hung there, my wet feet cooling. They laughed and Ken said they might as well put me out of my misery. Brad joked about leaving me there until Ken's cum was crusty. They came over and unstrapped me. I pulled off the gag and stepped down from the stool. I breathed and stretched and slipped the damp socks over my sticky feet while Brad watched. He said, "I like built, compact guys like you," running his hand over my bent-over back.
"You're pretty built yourself," I said. The first words I ever said to him.
I picked up my shorts and walked to the far back corner of the garage, feeling for the light switch. I washed myself under the shower. There was a red band around my waist where the belt had been. Ken came in and used the sink to wash his dick and hands. I used the big rough towel and handed it to him. He handed me a clean pair of white socks and I put them on.
Back in the garage I put my shorts on and popped another beer for myself. Ken and Brad sat on the low black vinyl sofa and I took the armchair. Brad seemed to spend as much time watching me and my feet as the game. Ken seemed to be watching Brad. I started to think Ken was goading him by having me wear pure white socks. The socks were brand new and my size. He watched when I absently rubbed one foot with the other. I checked out his feet too, wiped of my semen. There were just a few dark red hairs on the toes and tops. He looked at me with hooded eyes and open mouth. "I like suckin' your metatarsal heads," he said in a low voice. "You know what they are?"
"No." What a freak, I thought. What a hot, masculine, sexy freak. But I couldn't blame him for being crazed, the poor guy hadn't come yet.
The ball game was dull but the cold beer tasted good and the day's heat was easing. After awhile Brad got up and stood in front of Ken, playing with his own nipples. Ken lapped them with his tongue, which really aroused Brad. Brad stripped his shorts off and lowered his big naked body to the floor. Ken bent over him, pulling at his nips.
I joined them - I wasn't missing any of this action. Ken went down on Brad's feet. I ran my palms over his solid pecs with their scant red hair. I licked one of his jutting nipples while thumbing the other. Ken made loud sucking noises around those long toes. In no time Brad was bucking and moaning - we could see him trying to keep his hand off his own cock, he was getting too close.
"Fuckin' NOW," he shouted.
"Yeah?" said Ken around his toes. "You ready to get fucked, fireman?"
"Fuckin' NOW, yeah!" Brad whimpered. Ken maneuvered me over so I stood by Brad's legs. Ken grabbed my leg. I nearly fell over and had to grab the arm of the sofa. Ken whipped off my right sock. My ankle in his grasp, he started feeding my toes into Brad's clean, slippery asshole. Brad must have lubed himself while we were cleaning up. I didn't know what I was doing, but I stayed with it. Brad gasped and bucked when his ass-lips sucked around the bottoms of my toes.
Ken grasped my instep in his big hand and pushed my foot in further. I felt the balls of my foot shove open Brad's crack. His stretched asshole was tight around the base of my foot-balls. His hole's searing flesh clung to my toes. I twisted my foot a bit to feel around. He bucked and grunted, riding his hole further up my foot as I stood there on the toes of my other foot, fighting to keep my balance as Ken fed him my slick, sweating ped. Brad stared at my white socked foot and thumbed his dickhead.
Ken took his hands away from my foot. I managed to settle my ass on the arm of the sofa and started slowly ploughing Brad's hot stretched hole. I squeezed lube between my toes and ravaged his prostate with my hard knuckles. He groaned throatily, taken down a dozen or so helpless notches, his big stubbled body writhing around my grinding foot.
While that was happening, Ken took off his boots and socks. I'd never seen him barefoot before. He stood over Brad and planted his long, wide, black-haired foot right on Brad's face. A fresh, tangy funk wafted up. Brad snorted and moaned, his hand finally seizing his reddened, jumping prick.
I started virtually kicking his hole, without totally removing my toes. He furiously banged on his thick cock, pulling his balls up. With his other hand he alternated thumbing the wide pale base and pinching his nipples - he was a total pleasure-hog now. Ken rubbed his rough heel around his whole face. Then Ken lifted his foot and lowered all his long thick toes down into Brad's mouth. Brad sucked hungrily. We were raping him from both ends now, working up a two-way kicking rhythm.
I braced myself on the arm of the sofa and my foot went crazy, toes rummaging deep in Brad's hot spread hole, my heel pounding a beat on his thick muscled butt cheeks. His huge thighs bulged, he threw his head back and stream after stream of white stuff shot out over his head. It was a geyser - a lot splattered on the floor and a lot landed on Ken's leg. Brad soaked his own abdomen with the final spewings. I was stiff as a board, gasping, my foot having been forced out of his spastic hole.
I stood on the cement, one foot dry and still buzzing from its recent facefuck, the other slick with lube that had spattered up my shin and calf. The air smelled of semen, all our sweat and Ken's freshly bared feet. Brad lay there with his eyes closed, sated. Ken sat on the floor at Brad's head, watching him and idly pulling at his own cock in his boxers. Then he raised himself and walked to the bathroom. We could hear him in the shower washing off his leg.
I thought again how he never let me see his feet before. Maybe he and Brad got together regularly and Brad worked on them so well Ken hadn't been ready to share them with me. Maybe he thought I wasn't that into other guys' feet. That was true, but it seemed to be getting less true.
Brad opened his eyes slightly and leered at me in an exaggerated way. I laughed and he laughed too. We gazed at each other in lusty mutual admiration. I leaned down and kissed him. Ken came back and I kissed him, too. Ken ordered a pizza. We all cleaned up and watched pro wrestling.
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The author appreciates feedback.
Copyright (c)2006 "GS K" hot4bm@yahoo.ca