Greetings, all. Here's a little something for the foot tickling fans among you—who may be interested to learn that the scenario is based in part on a real-world tryst. Enjoy!
Lesson Number One
by
T.T. Gore
He’s handsome and muscular, with brown eyes and dark hair—and he’s completely bewildered by what’s happening to him.
Of course, there are plenty of guys like him whose masculine façade conceals their true desires. And in many cases these desires smolder for years, scarcely suspected by the guy himself. Sometimes they flare up spontaneously. But there are always those who stubbornly refuse to acknowledge their true nature, and in such cases it’s necessary to apply the spur.
So my new best friend is naked on his back, with his wrists and ankles securely bound to the rails of the old brass bed. So as not to disturb the neighbors I’ve ball-gagged him. “UUUUUUMMMMMMPH!!!” he grunts as I make my preparations. “GRRRRUUUUMPH!!!” His eyes bulge with effort as he seeks without success to force a scream for help past the pink rubber ball that fills his mouth.
He was high last night when I seduced him into masturbating with me. It wasn’t hard, given my blonde, slightly girlish good looks, slender body and smooth skin. The moment we met, I could tell that he was attracted to me. So we had a nice time together, a VERY nice time, but I knew he’d wake up with lover’s remorse—so many of them do. Oh, but my new best friend has true potential, and I’m not about to let him slip through my fingers!
He notices that I, too, am naked, and the sounds he’s making behind the ball bag redouble in desperation if not in volume. No doubt he imagines that have rendered him helpless, I plan to use and abuse him in all those ways that make him tremble with shame and desire. I kneel by the side of the bed, smile at him and whisper, “No, no, cutie buns! It’s not like that at all. I’d NEVER force you to do anything you don’t really WANT to do. In fact,” I explained, laying a hand on his heaving chest, “I feel badly abut what happened between us last night. Because you’re not really that way, are you?” Unable to resist the impulse, I ran my fingers through his dark chest hair. “And you must be terribly embarrassed and upset with yourself for being so NAUGHTY!”
“GGGGLLLLUUUURRRRRGH!!” he replies. I take this as an affirmative response.
“But that’s okay, cutie buns,” I say, still toying with his chest hair. “Because I’m going to fix it. I’m going to make it all better—I’m going to give you a PUNISHMENT!”
He reacts to this by making a desperate effort to slip his bonds—a waste of time and energy, of course. But I don’t mind. I enjoy watching him writhe and squirm.
“Oh don’t be such a BABY!” I chuckle when he finally gives up his futile struggle to escape. “I’m not going to TORTURE you or anything!” I pause, give him a great big smile, and conclude, “That is, unless you consider having your FEET tickled to be torture!”
“NNNNUUUUPH!!!” he protests, eyes bugging out of his head with sheer, unadulterated terror “MMMMUUUUGGGH!!!”
“Now, now, cutie buns,” I purr as I move from the side to the foot of the bed, where his feet protrude over the edge of the mattress. “If you play, you have to pay. And I prefer to extract payment in the form of LAUGHTER!”
Ignoring the frantic, inarticulate pleas and protests that rage behind the ball gag, I turn my attention to the morning’s main course: his bare, defenseless feet. Reverently I kneel, clutching the half-empty bottle of baby oil that so effectively lubricated our late-night masturbatory revels. This morning it will be put to quite a different use.
“First we’ll pamper your precious feet a little,” I say as I tip a splash of oil into the palm of my hand. His toes wiggle in dread anticipation of he knows not what, for the poor guy can’t quite see what I’m doing. But he gets the idea a moment later when I begin to massage the oil into the sole of his left foot.
“MMMMMMMMMMMM!!!” he moans, enjoying my ministrations in spite of himself. Oh, he arches his back and bounces his curvy derriere on the mattress—but only in an effort to show me that he hates what I’m doing. And of course he DOES hate it. Could anything be more humiliating, after all? Well, yes, as a matter of fact there are MUCH greater humiliations in store for my cutie buns. But just at this moment, having his feet massaged with baby oil by another guy is just about the worst thing he can imagine. And why? Because he LIKES it…
I take my time, using up all the remaining oil in the bottle. I’ll need more later—well, he’ll need it a lot more than me, actually—but that’s no problem. There are three full bottles in the bathroom medicine cabinet. I really hate running out of baby oil. Anyhow, after softening his feet I use a pumice stone on them. His grunts and moans redouble as I very gently treat the rough spots. Finally I cleanse his feet with a little warm soapy water and pat them dry with a fluffy towel.
Returning to the side of the bed, I’m not very surprised to find my cutie buns in a state of growing arousal. Having one’s feet treated with such loving care that goes straight to the balls, it seems. I consider favoring his stiffening joystick with a brief caress but manage to restrain myself. It will be better—much better—if I leave him as he is. So I content myself with another slow pass of my fingers through his chest hair. He bends his back, the poor guy, and wiggles his hips.
“Sorry, cutie buns,” I inform him. “No joy for you this morning, I’m afraid. But who knows? You may actually LIKE what I’m going to do to you now! Have you ever had your feet tickled? No? Then you’re in for a real treat!”
He makes noises behind the ball gag that are probably intended as a protest. I smile down at him for a moment as I play with his chest hair, and then return to the foot of the bed. I kneel. I feast my eyes on the delicious spectacle of his bare, defenseless feet. And I begin!
“UUUURRRRMMMM-GGGGRRRRUUUUMMMM-GGGGRRRRUMPH-UMPH-UMPH-UMPH!!!” he grunts as my sharp-nailed fingers commence their leisurely exploration of his ultra-sensitive soles. Ah, he’d be HOWLING if it weren’t for the ball gag! The bed frame creaks as he commences a frantic struggle to free himself from his bonds. He writhes and squirms and bounces his ass on the mattress and makes all kinds of perfectly AMAZING sounds—but the strapping tape I’ve used to secure his wrists and ankles to the bed rails is just too much for him. No doubt he realizes the futility of his struggles. But when your feet are being tackled and tickled and TICKLED you simply can’t HELP yourself, I suppose—you HAVE to struggle!
And struggle he does as I turn my attention to his toes. First I tie the big toes together with a length of twine, bend them back and secure the free end of the twine to the to bed rail. Then I begin stroking the pads of his toes with my fingertips Ah, and my cutie buns responds to this new caress by doing his level best to turn himself inside OUT—!
“UUUUMMMMUUUURRRRUGH!!!” he bellows behind the ball gag. “GUMPH!!! GUMPH!!! GGGGUUUUMMMMPH!!!”
“Gee, I guess it TICKLES!” I opined. “I guess I’m driving you absolutely BUGFUCK, curie buns, right?”
“GGGGRRRRUGH!!!” he responds. The bed rattles as he jerks to and fro. “UGH-UGH-UGH-GGGGRRRR-UGH-UGH-UGH!!!”
I continue to tickle his toes until his struggles subside, then I move once more to the side of the bed. He lies there trembling, pink-faced, covered with a delicate sweat whose musk teases my nostrils. His cock, I note with satisfaction, is still stiff with excitement. I have not misjudged my cutie buns! Smiling, I place a hand on his thigh and lean down to whisper in his ear.
“You just can’t TAKE any more, can you?” I breathe. “You’ll go NUTS if I keep tickling your feet, won’t you?”
“MMMMPH!!!” he replies, twisting his head on the pillow. I take this as agreement. My hand moves back and forth on his thigh.
“But I don’t WANT to stop, cutie buns!” I whisper. “I just LOVE to tickle the bare feet of handsome, muscular guys like you!”
“NNNNGGGG!!!” he protests.
“I know, I know—it’s naughty of me,” I giggle. My other hand strays to my rigid cock. I stroke it slowly as we continue our chat. “But it was naughty of YOU to let yourself get involved with me in the first place, wasn’t it? So you have to be punished, remember? And it’s my PLEASURE to give administer that punishment!”
He makes further muffled protests, but I pay them no heed. I kneel there, stroking his thigh and my yearning member until I sense the approach of orgasm. Then, not without reluctance, I stop playing with myself. The time has not yet come for the sweet release I so ardently craved.
“Well!” I say. “I think you’ve had enough of a breather, cutie buns. Shall we continue?”
His struggles commence immediately, even before I return to the foot of the bed. His feet squirm in dread anticipation of the hilarious torment to come. It’s a beautiful sight.
This time I concentrate on the balls of his feet, stroking them with my fingertips until his gagged screams achieve a truly remarkable level of desperation. The bed rattles and shakes. I squeeze out a clear, tiny bead of pre-cum.
Ah, but it’s so DELICIOUS to kneel there, watching him tremble and writhe as I tickle his feet. His belly is drum-tight and he’s got goose bumps all over. I LOVE the way they make the dark hairs on his arms and legs stick up like tiny quills. That’s SO sexy! And I positively ADORE how his big, stiff cock shivers and sways as he wiggles his naked ass!
“HHHHUUUURRRRUUUUMPH!!!” he howls, eyes bulging in a futile effort to force his screams past the ball gag. “GGGGGGRRRRRRUUUUUUGH!!!”
“I’m really getting to you now, aren’t I?” There’s a catch in my voice as I taunt him. “You’re really tickled PINK, cutie buns, aren’t you?” And it’s true. He actually IS beginning to turn pink all over—a byproduct, I surmise, of his frantic, frustrated efforts to unleash the shrieks of demented laughter that press against the ball gag. This is the part I love, when they think they simply can’t take another SECOND of tickling but realize that the torture isn’t going to STOP—!
He has actual convulsions when I begin to stroke his arches, and I consider granting him another brief respite. Ah, but it’s such FUN to tickle this masculine stud’s oh-so-sensitive feet—better, even, than the fun we’ll have together later, once I’ve broken his resistance. I don’t want this wonderful moment to end. Ever!
But of course it does come to an end several minutes later when my cutie buns releases a croaking grunt, shivers, and swoons.
I know from experience that he won’t remain unconscious long. And when he comes around, I decide, his ordeal will reach its excruciating climax. My choice of word makes me smile with fond anticipation, for in my case it will be literally accurate. I tremble at the thought of it—and produce another tiny droplet of pre-cum.
By the time he regains consciousness, I’ve made my preparations. His toes have been released from the twine and one of my backup bottles of baby oil is ready to hand at the foot of the bed. I kneel by his side, running my fingers through his chest hair once more as he blinks and focuses on my face.
“We’re almost there now, cutie buns,” I whisper into his ear. “Oh, we’re SO close!” Well, I am anyhow, but he doesn’t need to be told all the details. “Are you ready?”
“MMMMPH!!!” he grunts—in agreement or protest, I can’t tell which. And it doesn’t matter. Whatever his attitude, he’ll play his assigned part. What choice does he have?
I kneel there for a moment longer, allowing his chest hair to tickle the palm of my hand. Then I move back to the foot of the bed. My cock is throbbing by this time, and I’m very careful as I anoint it with baby oil. At this stage of the proceedings, premature ejaculation would be an absolute TRAGEDY—!
I gaze down at his wiggling toes. I lick my lips. A lascivious sensation grips my loins. Bracing myself with one hand on the bed rail I bend my head—and suck both of his big toes into my mouth!
“GGGGUUUUFFFFUUUUGH!!!” my cutie buns grunts into the ball gag as he realizes what’s happening now. “HHHHUUUUMMMMPH!!!” He squirms his toes in a desperate attempt to free them from the prison of my mouth, but it’s no good. I suck on them—hard. I run my tongue all over them. And while all this is going on, I stroke myself—slowly, oh so VERY slowly—with my free hand…
Certainly it tickles, but what’s really getting to him now is the sheer HUMILIATION of the situation. He’s naked, bound to the bed rails, the guy he fooled around with last night is sucking his fucking TOES, and despite it all he still has a fucking ERECTION! It’s enough to make any guy question his sexual orientation…
I suck his big toes for a full five minutes before turning my attention to the other eight. As I probe with my tongue the tender spaces between his dancing piggies, my cutie buns arches his back and wiggles his hips. And I know exactly how he feels, because my own hips are beginning to gyrate. Though I try to restrain myself, I just can’t help stroking my joystick a little faster…and faster…and faster…
I’m nibbling the small toe on his right foot when the glorious moment arrives! My hand is moving very fast now, back and forth along the full length of my rigid, slippery shaft. My balls are tense with anticipation. My asshole is tightly puckered. My head snaps up, my back arches and I utter a plaintive wail. Then an explosion of sheer ECSTASY convulses every muscle in my body as I begin to cum my stupid fucking BRAINS out—!
I squirt all over his bare feet.
After I empty my balls, I kneel there for a couple of minutes longer. I want to get my breath back before returning to the side of the bed. When I do make the move, I see immediately that he knows what happened at the foot of the bed. He’s making insistent noises behind the ball gag—and his cock is still standing tall.
“Oh, cutie buns,” I whisper. “This is just the beginning. You’ve had your first lesson…but there’s much MORE for you to learn…if you’ll let me teach you…”
His head moves on the pillow. He nods.
I begin to whisper in his ear, describing all the things I plan to do with him—and to him. After a moment, I begin to stroke his precious penis. But I’m just teasing him until I complete my preview of coming attractions. Then I fetch a pair of scissors and cut the tape that binds him to the bedrails. Finally, I remove the ball gag. He slips from the bed, and we find ourselves kneeling face to face.
“Oh, cutie buns! We’ve already done THAT!” I remind him. “But stay where you are.” I commanded. “That’s right—on your knees, but scoot back a bit. Stay facing the bed. Good.”
I sit on the edge of the bed. We look deep into one another’s eyes.
I extend my right leg. “Tell me, cutie buns,” I whisper. “Have you ever had a foot job?”
It turns out that he hasn’t, and I lose no further time in closing that gap in his education.
Lesson Number One
by
T.T. Gore
He’s handsome and muscular, with brown eyes and dark hair—and he’s completely bewildered by what’s happening to him.
Of course, there are plenty of guys like him whose masculine façade conceals their true desires. And in many cases these desires smolder for years, scarcely suspected by the guy himself. Sometimes they flare up spontaneously. But there are always those who stubbornly refuse to acknowledge their true nature, and in such cases it’s necessary to apply the spur.
So my new best friend is naked on his back, with his wrists and ankles securely bound to the rails of the old brass bed. So as not to disturb the neighbors I’ve ball-gagged him. “UUUUUUMMMMMMPH!!!” he grunts as I make my preparations. “GRRRRUUUUMPH!!!” His eyes bulge with effort as he seeks without success to force a scream for help past the pink rubber ball that fills his mouth.
He was high last night when I seduced him into masturbating with me. It wasn’t hard, given my blonde, slightly girlish good looks, slender body and smooth skin. The moment we met, I could tell that he was attracted to me. So we had a nice time together, a VERY nice time, but I knew he’d wake up with lover’s remorse—so many of them do. Oh, but my new best friend has true potential, and I’m not about to let him slip through my fingers!
He notices that I, too, am naked, and the sounds he’s making behind the ball bag redouble in desperation if not in volume. No doubt he imagines that have rendered him helpless, I plan to use and abuse him in all those ways that make him tremble with shame and desire. I kneel by the side of the bed, smile at him and whisper, “No, no, cutie buns! It’s not like that at all. I’d NEVER force you to do anything you don’t really WANT to do. In fact,” I explained, laying a hand on his heaving chest, “I feel badly abut what happened between us last night. Because you’re not really that way, are you?” Unable to resist the impulse, I ran my fingers through his dark chest hair. “And you must be terribly embarrassed and upset with yourself for being so NAUGHTY!”
“GGGGLLLLUUUURRRRRGH!!” he replies. I take this as an affirmative response.
“But that’s okay, cutie buns,” I say, still toying with his chest hair. “Because I’m going to fix it. I’m going to make it all better—I’m going to give you a PUNISHMENT!”
He reacts to this by making a desperate effort to slip his bonds—a waste of time and energy, of course. But I don’t mind. I enjoy watching him writhe and squirm.
“Oh don’t be such a BABY!” I chuckle when he finally gives up his futile struggle to escape. “I’m not going to TORTURE you or anything!” I pause, give him a great big smile, and conclude, “That is, unless you consider having your FEET tickled to be torture!”
“NNNNUUUUPH!!!” he protests, eyes bugging out of his head with sheer, unadulterated terror “MMMMUUUUGGGH!!!”
“Now, now, cutie buns,” I purr as I move from the side to the foot of the bed, where his feet protrude over the edge of the mattress. “If you play, you have to pay. And I prefer to extract payment in the form of LAUGHTER!”
Ignoring the frantic, inarticulate pleas and protests that rage behind the ball gag, I turn my attention to the morning’s main course: his bare, defenseless feet. Reverently I kneel, clutching the half-empty bottle of baby oil that so effectively lubricated our late-night masturbatory revels. This morning it will be put to quite a different use.
“First we’ll pamper your precious feet a little,” I say as I tip a splash of oil into the palm of my hand. His toes wiggle in dread anticipation of he knows not what, for the poor guy can’t quite see what I’m doing. But he gets the idea a moment later when I begin to massage the oil into the sole of his left foot.
“MMMMMMMMMMMM!!!” he moans, enjoying my ministrations in spite of himself. Oh, he arches his back and bounces his curvy derriere on the mattress—but only in an effort to show me that he hates what I’m doing. And of course he DOES hate it. Could anything be more humiliating, after all? Well, yes, as a matter of fact there are MUCH greater humiliations in store for my cutie buns. But just at this moment, having his feet massaged with baby oil by another guy is just about the worst thing he can imagine. And why? Because he LIKES it…
I take my time, using up all the remaining oil in the bottle. I’ll need more later—well, he’ll need it a lot more than me, actually—but that’s no problem. There are three full bottles in the bathroom medicine cabinet. I really hate running out of baby oil. Anyhow, after softening his feet I use a pumice stone on them. His grunts and moans redouble as I very gently treat the rough spots. Finally I cleanse his feet with a little warm soapy water and pat them dry with a fluffy towel.
Returning to the side of the bed, I’m not very surprised to find my cutie buns in a state of growing arousal. Having one’s feet treated with such loving care that goes straight to the balls, it seems. I consider favoring his stiffening joystick with a brief caress but manage to restrain myself. It will be better—much better—if I leave him as he is. So I content myself with another slow pass of my fingers through his chest hair. He bends his back, the poor guy, and wiggles his hips.
“Sorry, cutie buns,” I inform him. “No joy for you this morning, I’m afraid. But who knows? You may actually LIKE what I’m going to do to you now! Have you ever had your feet tickled? No? Then you’re in for a real treat!”
He makes noises behind the ball gag that are probably intended as a protest. I smile down at him for a moment as I play with his chest hair, and then return to the foot of the bed. I kneel. I feast my eyes on the delicious spectacle of his bare, defenseless feet. And I begin!
“UUUURRRRMMMM-GGGGRRRRUUUUMMMM-GGGGRRRRUMPH-UMPH-UMPH-UMPH!!!” he grunts as my sharp-nailed fingers commence their leisurely exploration of his ultra-sensitive soles. Ah, he’d be HOWLING if it weren’t for the ball gag! The bed frame creaks as he commences a frantic struggle to free himself from his bonds. He writhes and squirms and bounces his ass on the mattress and makes all kinds of perfectly AMAZING sounds—but the strapping tape I’ve used to secure his wrists and ankles to the bed rails is just too much for him. No doubt he realizes the futility of his struggles. But when your feet are being tackled and tickled and TICKLED you simply can’t HELP yourself, I suppose—you HAVE to struggle!
And struggle he does as I turn my attention to his toes. First I tie the big toes together with a length of twine, bend them back and secure the free end of the twine to the to bed rail. Then I begin stroking the pads of his toes with my fingertips Ah, and my cutie buns responds to this new caress by doing his level best to turn himself inside OUT—!
“UUUUMMMMUUUURRRRUGH!!!” he bellows behind the ball gag. “GUMPH!!! GUMPH!!! GGGGUUUUMMMMPH!!!”
“Gee, I guess it TICKLES!” I opined. “I guess I’m driving you absolutely BUGFUCK, curie buns, right?”
“GGGGRRRRUGH!!!” he responds. The bed rattles as he jerks to and fro. “UGH-UGH-UGH-GGGGRRRR-UGH-UGH-UGH!!!”
I continue to tickle his toes until his struggles subside, then I move once more to the side of the bed. He lies there trembling, pink-faced, covered with a delicate sweat whose musk teases my nostrils. His cock, I note with satisfaction, is still stiff with excitement. I have not misjudged my cutie buns! Smiling, I place a hand on his thigh and lean down to whisper in his ear.
“You just can’t TAKE any more, can you?” I breathe. “You’ll go NUTS if I keep tickling your feet, won’t you?”
“MMMMPH!!!” he replies, twisting his head on the pillow. I take this as agreement. My hand moves back and forth on his thigh.
“But I don’t WANT to stop, cutie buns!” I whisper. “I just LOVE to tickle the bare feet of handsome, muscular guys like you!”
“NNNNGGGG!!!” he protests.
“I know, I know—it’s naughty of me,” I giggle. My other hand strays to my rigid cock. I stroke it slowly as we continue our chat. “But it was naughty of YOU to let yourself get involved with me in the first place, wasn’t it? So you have to be punished, remember? And it’s my PLEASURE to give administer that punishment!”
He makes further muffled protests, but I pay them no heed. I kneel there, stroking his thigh and my yearning member until I sense the approach of orgasm. Then, not without reluctance, I stop playing with myself. The time has not yet come for the sweet release I so ardently craved.
“Well!” I say. “I think you’ve had enough of a breather, cutie buns. Shall we continue?”
His struggles commence immediately, even before I return to the foot of the bed. His feet squirm in dread anticipation of the hilarious torment to come. It’s a beautiful sight.
This time I concentrate on the balls of his feet, stroking them with my fingertips until his gagged screams achieve a truly remarkable level of desperation. The bed rattles and shakes. I squeeze out a clear, tiny bead of pre-cum.
Ah, but it’s so DELICIOUS to kneel there, watching him tremble and writhe as I tickle his feet. His belly is drum-tight and he’s got goose bumps all over. I LOVE the way they make the dark hairs on his arms and legs stick up like tiny quills. That’s SO sexy! And I positively ADORE how his big, stiff cock shivers and sways as he wiggles his naked ass!
“HHHHUUUURRRRUUUUMPH!!!” he howls, eyes bulging in a futile effort to force his screams past the ball gag. “GGGGGGRRRRRRUUUUUUGH!!!”
“I’m really getting to you now, aren’t I?” There’s a catch in my voice as I taunt him. “You’re really tickled PINK, cutie buns, aren’t you?” And it’s true. He actually IS beginning to turn pink all over—a byproduct, I surmise, of his frantic, frustrated efforts to unleash the shrieks of demented laughter that press against the ball gag. This is the part I love, when they think they simply can’t take another SECOND of tickling but realize that the torture isn’t going to STOP—!
He has actual convulsions when I begin to stroke his arches, and I consider granting him another brief respite. Ah, but it’s such FUN to tickle this masculine stud’s oh-so-sensitive feet—better, even, than the fun we’ll have together later, once I’ve broken his resistance. I don’t want this wonderful moment to end. Ever!
But of course it does come to an end several minutes later when my cutie buns releases a croaking grunt, shivers, and swoons.
I know from experience that he won’t remain unconscious long. And when he comes around, I decide, his ordeal will reach its excruciating climax. My choice of word makes me smile with fond anticipation, for in my case it will be literally accurate. I tremble at the thought of it—and produce another tiny droplet of pre-cum.
By the time he regains consciousness, I’ve made my preparations. His toes have been released from the twine and one of my backup bottles of baby oil is ready to hand at the foot of the bed. I kneel by his side, running my fingers through his chest hair once more as he blinks and focuses on my face.
“We’re almost there now, cutie buns,” I whisper into his ear. “Oh, we’re SO close!” Well, I am anyhow, but he doesn’t need to be told all the details. “Are you ready?”
“MMMMPH!!!” he grunts—in agreement or protest, I can’t tell which. And it doesn’t matter. Whatever his attitude, he’ll play his assigned part. What choice does he have?
I kneel there for a moment longer, allowing his chest hair to tickle the palm of my hand. Then I move back to the foot of the bed. My cock is throbbing by this time, and I’m very careful as I anoint it with baby oil. At this stage of the proceedings, premature ejaculation would be an absolute TRAGEDY—!
I gaze down at his wiggling toes. I lick my lips. A lascivious sensation grips my loins. Bracing myself with one hand on the bed rail I bend my head—and suck both of his big toes into my mouth!
“GGGGUUUUFFFFUUUUGH!!!” my cutie buns grunts into the ball gag as he realizes what’s happening now. “HHHHUUUUMMMMPH!!!” He squirms his toes in a desperate attempt to free them from the prison of my mouth, but it’s no good. I suck on them—hard. I run my tongue all over them. And while all this is going on, I stroke myself—slowly, oh so VERY slowly—with my free hand…
Certainly it tickles, but what’s really getting to him now is the sheer HUMILIATION of the situation. He’s naked, bound to the bed rails, the guy he fooled around with last night is sucking his fucking TOES, and despite it all he still has a fucking ERECTION! It’s enough to make any guy question his sexual orientation…
I suck his big toes for a full five minutes before turning my attention to the other eight. As I probe with my tongue the tender spaces between his dancing piggies, my cutie buns arches his back and wiggles his hips. And I know exactly how he feels, because my own hips are beginning to gyrate. Though I try to restrain myself, I just can’t help stroking my joystick a little faster…and faster…and faster…
I’m nibbling the small toe on his right foot when the glorious moment arrives! My hand is moving very fast now, back and forth along the full length of my rigid, slippery shaft. My balls are tense with anticipation. My asshole is tightly puckered. My head snaps up, my back arches and I utter a plaintive wail. Then an explosion of sheer ECSTASY convulses every muscle in my body as I begin to cum my stupid fucking BRAINS out—!
I squirt all over his bare feet.
After I empty my balls, I kneel there for a couple of minutes longer. I want to get my breath back before returning to the side of the bed. When I do make the move, I see immediately that he knows what happened at the foot of the bed. He’s making insistent noises behind the ball gag—and his cock is still standing tall.
“Oh, cutie buns,” I whisper. “This is just the beginning. You’ve had your first lesson…but there’s much MORE for you to learn…if you’ll let me teach you…”
His head moves on the pillow. He nods.
I begin to whisper in his ear, describing all the things I plan to do with him—and to him. After a moment, I begin to stroke his precious penis. But I’m just teasing him until I complete my preview of coming attractions. Then I fetch a pair of scissors and cut the tape that binds him to the bedrails. Finally, I remove the ball gag. He slips from the bed, and we find ourselves kneeling face to face.
“Oh, cutie buns! We’ve already done THAT!” I remind him. “But stay where you are.” I commanded. “That’s right—on your knees, but scoot back a bit. Stay facing the bed. Good.”
I sit on the edge of the bed. We look deep into one another’s eyes.
I extend my right leg. “Tell me, cutie buns,” I whisper. “Have you ever had a foot job?”
It turns out that he hasn’t, and I lose no further time in closing that gap in his education.
