A Straight Boy Socktastrophe. P1: Luca, E2
Luca gestured for me to follow him as he lead me through the entrance of his family home, the sound of his socked feet plopping on the hardwood floors with each of his steps echoing in my head. I kept glancing down at them, my brain making every effort to worship it internally. I had seen his socked feet a million times before, but very rarely in person—limited to our gym classes, when he would change in the locker rooms.
I followed him for quite some time, the size of his house genuinely impressing me the few seconds I raised my head from my fixation on the ground in front of me and the way Luca's feet brushed against it. Eventually, I followed him into a room, looking up to realize we were in his bedroom.
Luca flopped onto his bed, his back resting against his headboard as he motioned for me to take a seat beside him. "Come sit, I need more info before I can really diagnose you."
I chuckled with him and sat on his bed, intentionally looking away from his socked feet in a dramatic motion, as if daring him to take it farther. He knew deep down what I wanted, and I think his plan all along was to give it to me.
"So, you told me its not just the sight but also the scent and taste of a man's socked foot that triggers your disgust? Is it just internal disgust, or more of a fear?" he asked, his smirk playing on his face. I still tried not to stare at his socked feet, intent on keeping up the bit, but I could feel him wiggling his toes beside me. I could almost feel the warmth of his socked feet, a mere inches away from my arm as it rested on my lap.
"Yes... and I'd probably say more of a fear," I responded. Was this the right answer to obtain my objective? Who knows, but I did my best. I shifted my arm slightly, bringing it slightly closer to his socked foot.
"Well, all fears can be managed. Have you ever, like, even tried to get over it?" he asked, wiggling his socked toes again.
"Not really. Why would I?" I asked, almost sarcastically. I locked my eyes with his, waiting for his answer, tension still building in the room.
"I mean, you can't go on with such a random fear, now can you? It's so easy to fix. I told you, exposure therapy is the answer, and I can definitely help with that," he said. I could tell by his tone that he was trying his best to phrase things in a way that wouldn't show how much he also wanted this to happen.
"What exactly does exposure therapy mean in this context, Luca?"
He smirked harder, glancing down at his socked feet and motioning to them with his hand. My eyes followed his hands, staring down at his socked feet, now even closer to my arm and lap. I grimaced, a final ew before I would lose my composure, and looked back at him. "Why don't you just... touch it with your hand? See how it feels, and tell me," he said.
I looked at him as if I really struggled with what to do next, but I was certain I'd oblige. Slowly, near-reluctantly, I raised my hand and brought it to Luca's socked foot. I gripped the top of it, my fingers wrapping around his socked toes as I felt the heat radiating from my friend's feet. "Erm, like that?" I asked, stupidly, wanting permission or direction to proceed.
"Yeah, like that. What do you feel?" he asked.
"Well, it feels... damp. Wet, almost. I assume that's sweat. It makes me want to gag," I responded. I wasn't lying about what I physically was feeling with my hand, but I was definitely lying about how it made me feel inside. The thought of touching Luca's sweaty socked feet, the dampness of his sweat from the fabric mixing with my hand, penetrating my skin—it was a lot, and in a very good way.
"Yeah, it's sweat. Why don't you grab it with both of your hands? Maybe give them some gentle squeezes, almost a massage?" he asked, his smirk returning as he watched my hand on his socked foot intently.
I obliged, bringing my other hand to Luca's socked foot, grabbing it over his arch and gently squeezing both of my hands wrapped around him. I felt the thickness of his foot, the boniness of his sweaty toes, and I could feel myself starting to strain in my pants. I shifted slightly, moving my hips in the opposite direction of Luca's body, bringing my growing bulge out of his line of sight as I continued massaging his socked feet. Almost accidentally, my eyes shifted up to Luca's own crotch, noticing the faint outline of a bulge in his gym shorts. I could have moaned right there, but did my best not to.
"That's it. I mean, this feels good for me. If you're not too scared already, maybe take it further? Why not take a sniff?" he said, chuckling immediately afterwards. Before giving me a chance to respond, he lifted his socked foot toward my face, pushing his socked toes firmly against my nose and the arch of his foot planting itself against my lips and chin. "That's it, come on, take a deep breath, I want to feel the air coming through my toes, that'll tell me you're doing it right."
My cock ached in my own pants as I inhaled deep sniffs of Luca's socked feet, the scent of his sweat invading my throat, lungs, and covering my face. The dampness of his sock was unmistakable, he must have just worked out or something. The scent was overpowering but in the best way possible—not bad, not at all, but expressly and uniquely Luca—and I could already taste some of the saltiness of the fabric from the scent alone.
One of my eyes peeked open ever so slightly, looking up toward Luca as I continued taking deep breaths, breathing through his socked foot as he had instructed me to do. I noticed one of his hands placed gently above his bulge, grabbing it slightly as he watched my every move. His bulge looked bigger, firmer, than when I had glanced at it earlier.
Filled with the confidence of realizing Luca was genuinely enjoying the sight of me worshiping his socked feet, I decided to concede my own part of it. I spread my lips slightly before closing them again right over the damp fabric covering his big toe, planting a small kiss, the entrance of my lips now covered in Luca's salty sweat. He groaned slightly in response, my eyesight catching a firmer grip or pulse of his bulge.
"See? It's not so bad, is it? Stick your tongue out, take a quick lick. I promise you it's not as gross as you think it is," he says, his hand still lightly pumping his bulge as it continues to grow.
I don't verbally respond, but I oblige anyways. My lips part again, but this time my tongue finds its way out, planting itself against the soft, damp and salty fabric of Luca's socked foot. He immediately groaned at the feeling of my warm tongue pushing against his socked toes, his bulge growing even firmer, his face slightly blushing at how horny this had actually made him. I licked my way to the top of his socked toes, opening my eyes to lock with his. The eyesight must have caught him slightly off guard, his hand loosening over his bulge as if to hide the fact he was pleased by what he was witnessing.
"Maybe you can use your hands to massage while you lick? Maybe even let one of my socked toes into your mouth, to really get a sense of the... flavor of it?" he asked, and I wasn't going to stop now.
My fantasies were consistently fulfilled. There I was, in one of my friends' bedrooms, all alone with him. His sweaty socked foot pressed up against my face, breathing his scent in directly from the source, tasting it with my tongue as I licked and sucked on his socked toes. His hand continued gripping his bulge, which now seemed to be fully erect. Every few seconds, he'd share a quick groan with me, casually signifying how much he was secretly enjoying it.
I let in his socked toes into my mouth, one by one, suctioning it with my lips, savoring the taste of the salty sweaty fabric as it mixed with my saliva. My nose was still at work, consistently brushing with the rest of his socked foot in between swallows, taking deep sniffs to fill my lungs with the intoxicating scent that was Luca.
My eyes locked with him again, but this time his hand didn't jump away. He left it there, staring back at me, his socked toes still entering and exiting my mouth, his hand wrapped around his erect cock through his shorts. He was hard as a rock, and he was loving all of this.
Almost desperate, he broke the silence to ask: "Do you, uh, have any other fears? Or is it just socks?"
I knew where he was going with this, and I loved it. "Not just socks... I'm also disgusted of men's boxers, especially bulges and stuff like that. The smell of cum freaks me out," I said, boldly, still maintaining an aura of innocence and stupidity that he seemed to feel comfortable taking advantage of.
His hand grip tightened around his hard bulge, his brows furrowing to make a menacing face, almost threatening me with a good time. "Well, if you want to knock two birds with one stone, I happen to enjoy finishing in my boxers. Maybe you'll leave here completely cured, huh?"
I glanced down at his bulge, noticing the way the size of it strained the material of his shorts. They were riding lower on his hips, the top of his boxers visible, teasing my brain with what they must feel, smell, taste like. I looked back into his eyes, his socked foot still in my hand, and nodded.
NOTE: This story is entirely fictional. All characters are 18+ and consenting. This story will involve fetish/kink play, NSFW, sex, gay sex, and more.
Open to any suggestions for where to take it in the next episode!
