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<Authoritarian, m/m, high school, feet>
NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR: I have a sort of warning note at the beginning of Chapter 20 regarding the contents of this series.
SERVANT TO A SOCCER STUD CHAPTER 25
Soccer. Stud. Servant.
I reflected on these weighty words. Summer soccer practice had started. We were about to enter our senior year. Kyle had grown another inch to a full 6 feet. I grew another inch myself to 5'11". We were both 17 years old, but Kyle was way hotter. A stud. Stunning face. Huge 8.5" cock. (Three years younger than Brad, Kyle nonetheless had already reached Brad's cock length -- though Brad's was still thicker, not to mention it had that to-die-for foreskin.) Hairy jock legs. And of course, the sweaty, smelly feet that are attached to a soccer stud.
That's where servant comes in. A recent practice. Kyle drove to my house immediately afterwards. My parents were downstairs. He exchanged pleasantries with them and entered my room, filling it instantly with the smell of him. I was actually taking a nap. He dropped his soccer bag and heaved me off the bed while I was still mid-dream. My poor body hit the ground of my bedroom floor hard, jolting me awake. Kyle jumped on my bed. I instantly gathered my wits about me and greeted my master from my usual kneeling position. Kyle put his right foot on my shoulder and used it to kick off his cleats. More intoxicating odor filled my room. Then left cleats removed using my left shoulder as leverage. (Usually, he used my head or neck, but that took longer, and I guess Kyle was in a rush.)
"Get my socks off with your mouth, faggot."
These were Kyle's sexy-as-hell no-show black socks. (Sometimes for practice, the players did not get into full knee-high socks with shin guards.) Easier to get off, thankfully. But every bit as stinky (which I lusted for).
So I wrapped my lips around as much of the sock fabric below Kyle's sexy-as-fuck right ankle as possible, and clenched my teeth down (much easier just to give in and use my teeth). Then a swift motion to get the whole sock off. I had long learned the technique of using my mouth to remove Kyle's sock but turning it inside out. Kyle expected my mouth to be the washing machine first for the inside of his sock where his precious foot had just touched. (Don't worry, my mouth was the washing machine for the outside of his sock once I was done with the inside.)
Although this one Kyle's no-show sock, which meant I could fit all of it in my mouth, that's not usually how Kyle wanted me to clean it. No, Kyle figured that an entire sock in my mouth actually gave my tongue less room to really absorb as many square-inch of fabric as possible. So my first task was to place only the toe section of the sock squarely on my eager tongue -- and suck. And suck some more, really hard, then rotating the toe section and swirling it around my tongue, really making love to it. The taste was all stinky, but still all Kyle. I was so hooked.
I was about to begin the next phase of my worship when Kyle said he had a fart coming and ordered me to get my face in position. (These days when I was present, Kyle's farts never went to waste, either. My nose was to be way up Kyle's anus whenever Kyle farted.) Here, I quickly slid Kyle's beautiful soccer shorts off (beautiful because he was wearing them), along with the 2xist striped red boxer briefs underneath, and with my mouth still firmly gripping the toe section of Kyle's sock, planted my nose deep, deep, deep up between Kyle's ass cheeks. Today was a loud fart, followed by a couple more less loud, airier farts. I breathed hard and kept breathing for a whole minute while Kyle laughed and laughed and kept calling me a shitty faggot, or shit stain, or ass wipe, or whatever.
Then Kyle ordered me back to his feet, and I knew instantly to plant my nose into the crevices between his right bare toes, breathing in this different version of Kyle's stench -- but also with which I was so familiar. This would go on for several minutes, me continuing to chew on Kyle's sock while my nose still filled with the stink of Kyle's farts now had the immense double pleasure and honor of inhaling its combination with the stench of Kyle's beautiful size 11 feet. I was in heaven. And like a real washing machine, my mouth would cycle through different sections of Kyle's sock (still inside out) so that each section's Kyle foot juice would go down my throat and be replaced by my saliva. All the while, my nose never dared leave Kyle's toes.
Then repeat with Kyle's left sock and toes. Then more heaven for me. Time for the main course. Kyle's perfect bare feet for this insatiable foot faggot. Kyle was so generous to let me go to town on these feet, licking and slurping and kissing and sucking. And praising and begging and thanking and praying. Good variety and creativity, which I learned from Kyle that very first night in September of last year when Kyle got confirmation of who I was.
Kyle unleashed his usual, "You like those feet, faggot? Tell me how much you love those feet." My answer, per usual: "I love You, all of You." Kyle's retort: "Yuck. I don't want your love, retard. Fuck, I hate you, you stupid piece of shit." Me: "Yes, God. I'm sorry God, I meant I worship you and I adore you, as a God." Kyle: "Shut the fuck up, fag."
By now Kyle had taken his shirt off, too, and I also got to sneak peeks at those rock hard abs and sensational chest. I wanted so bad to suck on Kyle's nipples, but only Gemma got to do that. I now regularly called Kyle "God" even though I was only supposed to call Brad that. It's how I truly felt about Kyle's status over me.
After the tongue bath my mouth gave to Kyle's feet, Kyle ordered me to wash the other side of each of his crusty socks. So I did that, making a lot of noise during the sucking so that he knew how much I appreciated the task. Then onto certain items in Kyle's soccer bag, starting with sucking the juices and pubic hairs out of Kyle's jock strap. Then the armpit portion of Kyle's shirt. Then a good long sniff and kiss session devoted to Kyle's underwear, focusing of course on where his cock and ass had been. Finally, back to Kyle's cleats, which I was to spend another 5 minutes sniffing the fuck out of each one, again while constantly thanking each shoe for letting me sniff them.
Finally, the blowjob. Sometimes Kyle made me rinse my mouth out first with listerine, sometimes not. Today not. So with my mouth having absorbed the funk from Kyle's socks, feet, ass, jock strap, sneakers, underpants and underarms, that incomparable combination of flavor would now be part of the musty balls, cock sweat and pre-jizz (and ultimately jizz) that I would now get to savor.
Ten months after I first started serving Kyle, Kyle no longer needed to masturbate. Think back to when you were 17 years old. Masturbation was a daily, twice daily, or even three times a day ritual. But not for Kyle, not anymore, not when he had me. My mouth, my hole, or (much more rarely) my hand was there to "masturbate" Kyle to completion, and now with Gemma around, Kyle definitely did not need to use his own hands -- ever.
And there was Kyle's cum which now never, ever went to waste. If he came in my mouth, I swallowed. If he came on my face, his cum eventually would still end up down my throat, and if he fucked me, his cum filled my insides, except that he would often command me to stick my middle finger as far up my ass as it would go, and scoop out as much cum as I could and feed it back to myself. One way or another, Kyle got his cum into my tummy. He enjoyed making me taste his cum, over and over again, and I relished him making me do so.
I had estimated in an earlier chapter that after four months of serving Kyle, I had drunk 2L of his cum. Ten months in, I had drunk 5L. Incredible. Two and a half soda bottles' worth of Kyle's precious cum. With Gemma in the picture, I thought I might get less of his cum, but that is not what happened....
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"GTF over here, fag cumwad," the text read the next day. I immediately got in the car and drove to Kyle's.
Upon entering Kyle's room, onto my knees I went, bowing ten times forehead to ground, praying to my God, "Good afternoon, Master Kyle. I am so lucky to be in your presence. I think back to when you outed me last year, and I am so grateful. You let me be my true self, Master Kyle. Thank you so much!!!"
"Huh? Oh there you are fag, I wasn't listening. You are very boring, you know that, bitch? Stupid, boring faggot, haha. Anyway, I have a present for you."
Kyle snapped his fingers and used his thumb to point at the nightstand. There it was, a used condom.
Kyle ordered, "Crawl over there and suck my cum out of that condom. Don't you dare spill a drop. Then turn it inside out and keep sucking on it until there is nothing but rubber. Got it, faggot?"
I literally bolted at the condom, picking it up and doing as Kyle instructed. My sucking made a lot of noise, just like I knew Kyle liked. He wanted his fag to be enthusiastic and desperate; the fact that he knew I went out of my way to behave over-the-top enthusiastic and desperate to please him heightened his power trip. His cum still tasted great, even though it could not compare to when I get it straight from the tap. This cum had a hint of latex. Oh well. Beggars can't be choosers.
"Look at you," Kyle laughed. "Fuckin' inhaling my leftover cum out of a discarded condom."
When I was done, Kyle did not need to inspect my work. He knew that I loved his cum so much that I would've gladly sucked every last molecule off every millimeter of any material.
Kyle then said, "Now turn it back outside out and suck some more. See if you can tell what you're tasting."
I couldn't taste much of anything, but I realized that the only reason Kyle's cum would be inside a condom is if he just fucked someone. Since the only way he fucked me and Tommy was bareback (yes, Tommy was around this summer, but one story at a time), he must have just fucked a girl, namely Gemma. So I answered, "It's pussy juice, sir."
Kyle hit me hard upside the head. "How the fuck would you know, faggot? You've never been near a pussy."
"I, I," I stammered. "I took a guess, Master. I'm sorry." For good measure, I added, "Eww, Master. I hate it!" So there you have it. Kyle now made me eat his heterosexual cum leftovers. Therefore, other than when Gemma was swallowing Kyle's cum directly from a blowjob (yes, Kyle had long ago gotten Gemma to do that chore every time), or when Tommy got it in his mouth or up his ass (rarely on average since Tommy was not here most of the time), all of Kyle's cum went into my body. That's how I calculate the 5L worth of Kyle's cum that I have drunk so far.
TO BE CONTINUED ...