Ankle Socks

ANKLE SOCKS

by

TakenAndTickled

I saw him a few nights each week as I walked home from work, around the same time and same place. In a crowd he might not have caught my eye, but on his own like that – it was different. He wasn't some gym-toned hunk or adonis; some guys go for that kind of thing, but I've always been drawn to more ‘ordinary’ guys. He was slim and gangly, probably late teens, a little awkward-looking. He was always wearing tracksuit bottoms, usually a football shirt or polo shirt with a bomber jacket over the top, and white trainers. Sometimes a baseball cap too. Despite his slightly gawky appearance, there was a kind of assured swagger in the way he walked as if he fancied himself a little. He seemed to me just the type of lad who could spend ages in front of a mirror before a night out and then spend the evening posing for selfies.

We were always heading in opposite directions and usually crossed paths near the housing estate opposite the park. Like all British strangers we never said a word to each other, but gradually came to silently acknowledge each other in passing with a brief nod or half-smile. Every time I saw him my mind conjured-up images of what he would look like naked, and especially tied-up naked. I'd love to have a little bitch like that all to myself, at my mercy. And the one thing I really wanted was to get my hands on his feet. Whenever we passed each other with our usual cursory nod my eyes would catch a glimpse of his clean white trainers, and I would imagine grabbing him and wrestling him to the ground so I could get his shoes off and help myself to those feet.

After a few weeks of this I decided to invent some excuse to stop and talk to him, something silly. As we approached each other, I gave a nod and casually asked if he knew the time. I knew perfectly well what time it was, having just left work fifteen minutes ago, but he wasn't to know that. He stopped and checked his phone.

“Nearly twenty past nine,” he said.

“You live around here?” I asked. “I see you quite often.”

“Nah, mate, my girlfriend lives just over there.” He gestured to the estate over the road.

“Lucky girl,” I said, “having a devoted boyfriend visit her every week.”

“Yeah, and she knows it,” he said with a cheeky grin, and continued on his way. Christ, I could have jumped him right there and then. I bet he'd never imagined another guy being into him – and he definitely would never have imagined that another guy could be interested in his feet. I wondered how he'd react if he knew. I so badly wanted to find out. I was still standing there, watching him walk away. He was crossing the park already. On the other side of the park, past the trees, was farmland with a public footpath leading all the way to the train station. I figured he must be going that way. There were no residential areas over there apart from the farmhouse, and he didn't exactly look like a farmer's son. He must be heading for the station, to get the train home. I had hesitated long enough; he was getting further away. I made a spontaneous decision, forgot about home, and went after him.

The park was quite open – there were no hedges or buildings to duck behind. We were the only two people passing through; nobody visited the park after dark. If he turned around now he would see me following him, but he was too preoccupied with his phone to even look up. I picked up the pace to make sure I didn't lose him, while keeping a good distance between us. I knew I could ambush him past the trees, if I stayed close enough. The edge of the park on this far side was bordered by a narrow patch of woodland, dark and dense enough that you couldn't see anything beyond the trees on either side. The lad had just reached the path leading through the trees. I picked up the pace again. My pulse was racing and my head was foggy as if drunk or in a dream. As I made my way through the trees, slowly gaining on him, I had to be careful not to step on a twig or make a sound. It was only as I got closer that I could see he had a pair of earphones in, listening to music on his phone as he walked, and I felt a little less cautious.

I didn't want to catch him until we had reached the edge of the farmland. Nobody would see us there. The farmhouse was further on the horizon, on the other side of all the fields where the crops grew. I just had to hope that we didn't encounter another person on the footpath, but it all looked quiet. I was so close to him now; I could hear his jacket rustling as he walked, even the tinny drumbeat trickling from his earphones.

Acres of dark, tranquil wheat fields appeared, the lights of the park and the main road far behind us now. I didn't even pause to consider the consequences, I was being driven purely by carnal lust – I saw meat and I was hungry. I jogged up behind him and grabbed him, clamping a hand around his mouth. He instantly went into full panic mode, thrashing about and trying to yell out. His phone fell out of his hands, pulling the earphones out of his ears.

“Mmmph – nngh – get – ommph!” As I grappled with his lithe, squirming body it was awkward to keep his mouth covered and the odd word slipped out: “Stop!” or a cry for “Help!” abruptly cut short. I pulled him backwards, trying to unbalance him. He was digging his heels in, stubbornly refusing to get on the ground. I kicked the back of his leg and he crumpled, going down on one knee. He quickly tried to get back up again, but as he put his hand down to push up off the ground I managed to drag him down and pin him on his back. Shit, now he could see me. His eyes were less full of fear than anger. He swiped at my arms as one hand pressed firmly over his mouth and the other held his chest down. His hips were underneath me now, pinned down by my body weight, but his legs were still scuffing the ground, trying to find a way to get up again.

I was forced to release my hand from his mouth in order to roll him over onto his stomach. The second I did so, the air was filled with cries and shouts:

“Fuck you! Somebody help me! Help me, please! Don't fucking touch me! Help!”

He put up a good fight as I rolled him over, until I finally got him onto his stomach and pushed his face down into the dirt, muffling his shouts once more. As I held his head down I took off the tie I was wearing, loosening the knot just enough so I could slip it over my head without untying it. No choice but to release his head again as I pinned his arms behind his back, slipped the tie around his wrists and pulled it tight.

“Somebody, help!” His head was propped up on his chin. His whole body was wriggling from side to side. I pressed my knee down on his lower back to try and hold him still.

“Shut the fuck up!” I said, in a voice that barely sounded like my own. I tied an extra knot in the tie to bind his wrists nice and tight. As I let go he instinctively tried to pull his hands free, but he was unable to. I would have breathed a sigh of relief if I'd had time, but I had to move quickly. He was making too much noise, and though there didn't appear to be anyone around for miles I didn't want to take any chances.

I was sitting on top of him again, straddling his hips, facing his legs. I could feel him writhing around underneath me. As his legs flailed about, I caught the end of his tracksuit bottoms and pulled his right foot towards me. He didn't relax for a second and I really had to struggle to keep hold of his ankle, while his free leg continued to kick wildly against the ground.

“Help, please help!” He was shouting at the top of his lungs, his voice almost hoarse. I would have preferred to take my time stripping his feet, but unfortunately the situation called for haste. Luckily his voice took on quite a different tone as I started tugging at his shoe – more subdued and, dare I say, frightened. “Wha – what the fuck? Stop! Fucking freak, what you doing?”

“Just relax,” I heard myself say. I loosened his laces. “I'm not going to hurt you. No one's going to get hurt, if you just keep your mouth shut and…”

“Fuck you!” he started up again. “Get the fuck off me, you perv!”

“You're not going anywhere, straight boy, so just take it easy.” With his laces untied, I slipped the trainer off his foot. He was wearing a white ankle sock, and the leg of his tracksuit bottoms had ridden up a little to expose his creamy white ankle. Frankly, boys who wear ankle socks are just asking for trouble. I'm sure I wasn't the first gay guy who had perved over this lad's feet.

“Somebody help me!” He started coughing and spluttering, and his voice cracked. He was panting through clenched teeth and when he tried to shout again I could hear a faint sob in his voice. “Help, please!”

“Nobody can hear you,” I said, sounding pretty sure of myself. His head dropped down onto his chin again and now he was really sobbing. I buried my nose in his shoe and inhaled the musky scent of his sweaty teen feet. I could feel my cock pressing against my pants. I put his trainer down and pulled his socked foot to my face, pressing my nose against it.

“Oh, fuck, no, no!” His voice was cracked and quieter now, although still loud enough to keep the adrenaline pumping through my body. I felt sure that if anyone was on the footpath up ahead, or walking through the park just beyond the trees, I'd be discovered – and yet, in a funny sort of way, it all added to the thrill of the catch.

Mmm, God, that foot smelled good. You know that smell. I shuddered with sexual excitement as I breathed in that intoxicating odour and felt his warm foot wriggling against my face, the cotton sock brushing against my lips. He was trying to jerk his leg away from my grip, so I had to keep pulling his foot back to my nose. His other leg was still scraping at the ground, but some of the fight had gone out of him now. He was far from resigned to his fate; he was just trying to regain some of his strength so he could make another effort to break free. The same went for his voice – he had gone from screaming out loud to whimpering and coughing, his mouth probably all dried out from fear and exertion. He was still growling and grunting like a trooper though.

“Sick bastard – fuck – no, stop!” I had started to peel his sock off. “No!” The sock slid off his smooth foot very easily. Now I had his bare foot in my grip, wavering just inches from my face. The sole was soft and warm, only a little moist around the toes. The toes wiggled in nervous frustration as I brushed a finger along the tips. “Help me!” They looked so vulnerable and… tasty. I pushed my face into his bare sole, sniffing and kissing it simultaneously. I let my tongue explore his foot, licking around his soft heel, around his bony ankle, up and down the sole, and roughly lapping at his toes. “Urggh, fuck, stop it, please!” No way, straight boy. Not now I've got you right where I want you. I had unconsciously grown bolder as it became apparent that we were unlikely to be disturbed by any passers-by. Let him squeal. I wanted to savour this. And besides, every cry of disgust he uttered only made my dick harder.

I began to lick around his toes more carefully, my tongue slithering in-between them. They were delicious. Even more delicious was his horrified reaction. “Eugh, that's sick, you're fucking – huh – fucking – ha – oh fuck – oho – stop!” Seems I hit a ticklish spot. As I licked between his toes, his disgusted snarling turned to helpless giggling. “No, no – ahaha – fucking hell – no – noho, please!” It was hot to hear him sound so angry and yet unable to stop himself laughing. I popped several of his tootsies into my mouth at once and started sucking on them. The giggling subsided slightly, becoming muffled chuckling as he pressed his face into the ground and clenched his teeth. It felt so good to have that straight lad's tasty toes feebly wriggling around in my mouth. My cock was leaking precum inside my pants. I didn't want to cum just yet – I was saving myself.

I took his foot out of my mouth, but held on to his leg by wrapping an arm around it. With my free hand I took hold of his other leg, which was still weakly scraping at the ground in vain, and pulled his other foot close to me.

“Urrrgggh!” He growled into the dirt as I tugged his other trainer off – it had already been worked loose where he had been kicking at the ground for so long – while maintaining a hold of both legs. He wasn't putting up quite as much resistance now, although there was plenty of squirming as he was still trying to wriggle his bound hands free. He seemed to be focusing his energy on his arms rather than his legs now. Perhaps he thought if he could get his hands loose, he'd be able to fight me off properly. I worried that my tie might not be strong enough to hold up, but he didn't appear to be making much progress, despite his effort.

Another foot, another ankle sock. What a fucking tease! With both my hands now gripping his ankles I had to – not that I minded, of course – remove his sock using only my teeth. I took the toe end of the sock between my teeth and slowly pulled it off. Just like before, it slipped smoothly over his soft heel and now I had two gorgeous bare feet right in front of my face. I let the sock drop onto his writhing butt, held his feet together and buried my nose into his bare soles. They wrinkled up slightly as he flexed and clenched his toes. He lifted his head again. “No, help! Anybody!” Yeah, squeal boy. Your feet belong to me. These toes are mine. And there's nothing you can do to stop me. I slathered those feet up, licking them all over, soles and tops, like an excited puppy. The whole time he kept yapping and cursing, and then succumbing to pathetic, helpless laughter every time my tongue dipped in-between his toes. I gave each toe a good long suck, popping them into my mouth one at a time, while he angrily thrashed about beneath me.

My cock was near ready to blow. With one arm wrapped around both legs, I reached down and unzipped my trousers. I managed to pull my underwear down just enough to let my dick out. I stood up – with me holding his ankles up in the air there was no way he could make a bid for escape. I rested my cock against his saliva-coated soles. The head went up again: “Wha – what's that? What the fuck is wrong with you?” He couldn't turn his head to see what was happening, but he knew. As I began to rub my cock against his bare feet he became more agitated than before. “You sick fucker!” His torso was frantically twisting left and right as he tried to free his hands. “Sick – no!” I was really fucking his feet now, jerking my cock up and down his soles with quick thrusts. He growled and swore, revolted and confused by the whole ordeal. Then I came, blowing a load all over his toes. He wiggled them unconsciously and groaned in disgust as he felt the sticky cum ooze between his toes. I could have kept screwing his soles and cum over his feet again, but I suddenly had another idea. Or rather an urge, as though some primal instinct had taken over and I felt compelled to follow it. I let go of his ankles and his legs dropped to the ground.

I kneeled down and roughly tugged his tracksuit bottoms down along with his boxer shorts, just enough to expose his bare arse. “Oh, shit, no, no, don't, no,” he babbled, his hands furiously struggling to break loose. I groped his butt cheeks and forced them apart. I could see his tight little hole, clenching defensively. Just as I had licked his toes, I slipped my tongue into his crack and started lapping at his hole. He shivered and tensed-up as my tongue moistened him up, ready for my cock. This was one tasty straight boy. Pulling my head back, I let my finger creep threateningly between his buttocks, finding its way to his hole. “Shit – no, please – stop, don't! Help me!” I forced my finger inside him – “Rrrghhh, no!” – and slowly finger-fucked him, sliding it in and out, in and out, while he squirmed and squealed. I pulled it out and climbed on top of him. This time I forced my cock inside him – “Urrrghh, please, help me, help!” – and I fucked him hard. He planted his face into the dirt, grunting and moaning, as I pounded his straight arse.

“Unh, fuck, yeah,” I moaned as I raped his virgin hole. I could feel him trying to resist, but it was futile, I was already deep inside him. I had taken what I wanted – his feet – and this was just a bonus. I was close to another orgasm and the thought of licking and tickling those sexy feet was enough to tip me over the edge. I grabbed one of his socks from the ground beside me and held it against my nose, sniffing that arousing odour again until I came inside him. I continued to fuck him until I was spent, slowly cooling-off before eventually pulling out.

I zipped my trousers up, leant over and untied his hands. Without hesitation, he quickly pulled his underwear up. I decided it best not to hang around. Without a word I picked up his socks, stuffed them in my pocket and quickly walked away. As I reached the path which led through the trees I glanced behind me and saw him sitting on the ground in shock, panting and shaking as he slowly slipped his violated bare feet into his trainers and laced them up.

Of course, after that night I was forced to find an alternative route home from work. It added some time to my journey, but I couldn't risk bumping into him again – although I felt sure he must have altered his journey as well. And then, one evening as I was walking home along my new route, I was briefly stopped by another young man. Early twenties, clean-cut student type. Wearing a pair of glasses, canvas satchel slung over his shoulder. Dressed in a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up, khaki trousers, brown leather shoes. Nice shoes, I thought. Cute lad. He asked for directions. He was looking for the train station. I pointed the way and told him a good shortcut was to take the footpath through the wheat fields. He smiled, thanked me and went on his way. As I watched him go, I slipped my hand into my pocket and felt a pair of used ankle socks rolled into a bundle.

Well, I was in no rush to get home.