I do it every day from Monday through Friday. It's how I spend my lunch hour. Most dudes eat something or go to the gym on their lunch hour, but not me buds, not Kyle Waggoner, junior banking executive who is rapidly climbing the corporate ladder.
At exactly 12:00 PM on that Friday's lunch hour I hung my suit jacket on the back of my chair, stepped out the door of my office and walked speedily down the corridor to my VP's office, Mr. Bill Leighton...
When I reached Bill Leighton's office I knuckle knocked three times before entering.
When my VP didn't respond to my knocking I gently turned the doorknob and inched the door open, peeking inside as I did so.
And there was Mr. Bill Leighton, the handsomest VP in the company, snoozing away...
...seated propped up in his office chair, his hands folded over his chest, his thick wedding band on prominent display over his tie, AND his dress socked feet buoyed up on the radiator under the window of his office.
Mr. Leighton always takes his shoes off for his lunch time siesta, what he calls his power nap.
I softly closed the VP's office door behind me and stealthily made my way over to him, noticing first his size 11 black, well-shined lace-up wingtips on the floor next to him.
I hunkered down next to my softly snoring handsome VP; my face inches from his socked feet and inhaled deeply and silently.
FUCK, the aroma emanating from Mr. Bill Leighton's nylon blue/grey socks that he had worn with his suit that day was intoxicating, like any other day of course.
As I deeply inhaled the masculine musty scent arising from Mr. Leighton's dress socks, I picked up his left shoe, held it over my nose and mouth and inhaled and inhaled like crazy...
...feeling as I was breathing in the man's very essence.
The inside of Mr. Leighton's wingtip was scented with a heady mixture of leather, sweaty nylon sock, and all out fucking machismo.
After more than likely sniffing the entire funky aroma out of my VP's left shoe I stuck out my tongue and licked, licked, licked the fuck out of it, inside and out...
...even bestowing kisses all over the outer portion of it...
When I was done with Mr. Leighton's left shoe I placed it back down on the floor and picked up the right one...
...and gave it the same respectful treatment I had given the left one.
I often wondered how, after Mr. Leighton would feel after he woke up from his power nap to find out that the insides of his shoes had been sniffed and licked...and that the outsides of his shoes had been kissed over and over...
...and that his socks, while he had been wearing them had been sniffed and licked...
...which was what I proceeded to do next.
I hunkered up a bit on my knees and pressed my nose against Mr. Leighton's big toe on his right socked foot...
...and inhaled deeply.
JESUS!!!
Heaven, pure stinking sock heaven!!
I sniffed and gently licked up and down the side of my VP's dress socked right foot...
...and at that point it should be mentioned that my manhood had flag-poled in my suit pants.
As I then sniffed, licked and planted delicate kisses over Mr. Leighton's toes across both his socked feet, I could feel my cock pre cumming and staining my boxer briefs...
Oh God, my VP's blue/grey dress socks smelled so fucking good, the aroma on them was even headier and more pungent than the insides of his wingtips had been. No dude had a better lunch hour than me, buds.
Still on my knees, I scurried over to Mr. Leighton's propped up left socked foot and began sniffing his pinky toe through his sock...
"MMMM..." I crooned...
...and suddenly heard, "What-what the fuck?? WAGGONER!! What are you doing man???"
Shit, SHIT!!! Mr. Leighton was awake...
...and staring at me in disbelief, as my nose was pressed against his deep, sexy socked arch.
"Y-you're licking my socks, Waggoner!!" the VP barked. "Fucking fucks man; you're licking AND sniffing my smelly socks!! Jesus!!!"
"Uh yeah, you see Mr. Leighton...I'm..." I stammered through trembling lips...
...but still inhaling the scent of my VP's socks, as I knelt there...
"JESUS, God, my socks stink like crazy, even after wearing them a short time and you're kneeling there sniffing and licking them as if they smelled like roses!" Mr. Leighton went on in disbelief. "And while I'm taking a power nap at that, Waggoner..."
"Mr. Leighton, please, Sir..." I tried again.
"M-my power nap, holy shit!!!" the VP railed loudly. "Do you, do you do this every day, Waggoner? How many pairs of my socks have you done this with?"
"A-a few...uh, more than a few, Sir..." I stammered, moving to get to my feet, not believing that I was confessing to what I had been doing where my VP's socks were concerned.
As I was getting to my feet, prepared to give my VP my resignation, he hollered at me, "I don't recall telling to move, Waggoner!"
"Sir?" I asked him, as he moved his swivel chair around a bit and a few feet away from me...
"You know Waggoner, I think going forward we're going to be working very closely together," Mr. Leighton said to me, sneering.
"I-I don't understand," I said softly.
A few moments later I was holding my VP's socked feet in one hand each by his heels...
...and sucking profusely and over and over again at his socked toes...
A few times I dribbled over Mr. Leighton's socked toes, held his feet tighter by his heels and sucked up my saliva.
"AWWW man, that feels great, Waggoner," my VP crooned. "My wife will never complain again about my smelly socks..."
I moved my hands to his socked calves, stopped sucking the man's toes for a moment, and asked, "Sir?"
"Well, you see Waggoner, when I get home from work and take my shoes off, my socks smell so bad and funky that my wife won't touch them," my VP said. "She insists that I put them directly into the washing machine, instead of in the clothes hamper we keep in the bathroom. She doesn't want to handle my socks at all."
Hearing that I thought that my VP's wife was a fool...
...and I lowered my head, slurped Mr. Leighton's socked toes back into my mouth as far as possible...
...and resumed my work...