I was bleary-eyed at eight in the morning. When I got to work, I grabbed a bagel from the pantry and headed to my desk to boot up my computer. I listened to my voicemail while eating and then logged onto the internet to do some research on the real estate market. I was always looking for new land to buy.
An instant message window popped up in the corner of the screen. "Blow my toe until my eyes roll back." I started in surprise. What the hell? And then I saw the name of the sender and chuckled. My mysterious pen pal.
"Good morning to you too," I typed. I'd met him in a chat room a few months back, and he was one of the few who knew about my fetish. We'd had some really hot conversations, but during the workday we tried not to talk for just that reason. I ran my own business but didn't want to set a bad example for them, and I was shocked my pal broke our rule.
"Not such a good morning, today," he typed. "Sorry if I scared you." "Don't be." I replied. "What's up? "My head's really hurting," he answered. "I barely made it out of bed." "And would if help if I...you know, did what you first asked?"
"Hah. You think it's funny, but it really helps kick a headache. Try it some time."I made a sarcastic mental note. Whenever head starts to hurt, have someone suck on toe. Right, like that would work.
For the rest of the day, I wondered about him. Everywhere I went, I scrutinized attractive men, thinking he could be any one of them. And literally, he could. Who knew? He might be the surfer-type teller who worked at my bank. The clerk couldn't be more than twenty eight, and he looked tired. Maybe his head ached.
I actually held my breath for a moment as shook his sun-bleached hair out of his face while counting out the cash I requested. Wouldn't it be eerie if he looked up and asked me to blow his toe? I wondered with a rising cock what his feet looked like. Too bad he worked in a bank. He looked like a walking sandal-advertisement.
Then, on the way to my new dentists' office that afternoon, I glimpsed a hot Hercules at a construction site. Due to the humid summer day, the men were shirtless. My mouth watered over a particular Adonis. Dark-haired and muscular, with large, capable hands, his bronze chest gleamed in the sun.
Traffic was not moving, so I took the opportunity to check out his shoes. Huge brown work boots. And when I say huge, I mean it. Gargantuan. My pulse began to race, and I was tempted to get out of the car and ask him if I could do for him what my pen pal asked. Blowing one of his big toes might rival sucking a normal man's cock. Imagine that.
The car in front of me finally began to move, and as I pulled away, I saw something fall off the scaffolding. A terrible cry rent the air, and my poor Adonis's gorgeous face contorted in agony. In the rearview mirror, I saw a brick had slipped and fallen on one of those feet, and I nearly reversed to get out and offer comfort.
But I was late for the dentist. Now, let me tell you, I have no problem with the dentist, but I liked my old one. Alas, he was too old and had to retire. I'd never been to see this guy before. I waited and waited for my name to be called. Nearly three quarters of an hour. Damn good thing I ran my own company, or I'd have been sacked for wasting almost half the day running errands. When the hygienist called me back, I followed quickly, needing to get out of here ASAP.
Of course, that lasted til I saw the dentist, Dr. Brannon. He was tall, green-eyed, and spoke with a lilting Irish accent. I wanted to take him home on the spot. He gave me a genial smile and asked me to sit down while he took a look at me.
I opened my mouth wide, wishing he'd insert something other than metal tools. A tongue, cock, or toe would have been great. I peered over the edge of the chair at his shoes. Round-toed black shoes. Wide and very big. A sudden image of that bare Irish foot had me speechless for a full thirty seconds.
The hygienist popped in to tell him he had two other patients waiting, and he lowered his mask and sighed.
"Two o'clock, and my back's killin' me." He grimaced and slowly rubbed a hand across his lower back. I almost offered to do it for him.
Running a hand through his dark hair, he smiled at me again. "Looking good, Langdon. Won't need to see you for another six months."I made a note to myself to eat more candy. A cavity would get me here sooner.
All that night, I dreamed I was swarmed by naked and half-dressed men, all chanting his words, begging me to blow their toes. Barefoot, they walked over me, but couldn't crush me. I could feel their soles - some smooth and some rough- but it was as if they were weightless above me. Some walked too fast for me to obey their order, but others, I could catch. I grasped big toes in my mouth and watched eyes cross with pleasure. All around me, they bellowed and shouted and screamed as my lips touched their feet. Some men fell to the floor and disappeared in the wild throes of orgasm. Again I saw the faces of the men I'd seen that day: my dentist, the construction worker, the blond bank-teller...
The shrill alarm clock woke me, and I rose to damp sheets. Shit, I'd come in my sleep. Talk about wet dreams. When I touched my foot to the cold floor, I cried out, not realizing my sensitivity was due to the hot visions during the night. I jacked off again in the shower, recalling some of the hottest moments of the dream, like when Dr. Brannon had pressed his big bare foot to my face and shouted in Gaelic as his eyes rolled back in his head. I smiled as I rushed off to work.
At about six o'clock that evening, I showed up at my accountant's office.
"Thanks for seeing me so late," I said, reaching out to shake his hand. He gave me a wan smile and waved at a chair. Now, I should point out my accountant's a very handsome man - bronze skin, a chiseled face, straight nose, and piercing dark eyes. Plus, his thin wire-rimmed glasses make him look quite scholarly and dashing. I always anticipate meetings with him, because trust me, if you have to talk about ledgers and numbers for hours at a time, it's best to do it with someone easy on the eyes. I noticed a deep crease between his eyebrows and tension in his face. "Are you all right?"
He shrugged as he dropped into his seat and pulled my file toward him. "Woke up with a migraine. I'm just under a lot of stress this time of year." "Oh. I'm sorry to add to it."
His lips quirked in a tiny smile. "Don't worry, I can function this time."
This time. I recalled he'd cancelled a few meetings last year because the pain had been too great for him to rise from his bed. The damn headaches really disrupted his life, and I felt sorry for him.
He let out a huge sigh as his pen scratched across a sheet of paper. I frowned. "Maybe we should postpone. If you're not feeling well--" He met my eyes. "I'm fine, Langdon. Let's get on with it."
I shrugged and started explaining to him about the new buildings I was looking into buying next month. He listened and made a few notes, but I could tell he wasn't really concentrating.
"Have you taken anything for it?" Spence glanced up, looking kind of pissed. "Langdon, Jesus, I'm--" "I'm just trying to help, okay?"
He stood up abruptly, and I noticed he had slipped off his black leather loafers. I watched his black dress socks as he made his way across the office to a small round conference table.
As I watched in amazement, he pulled off his socks to reveal beautiful, bronzed feet. Enormous feet. I stared open-mouthed. High arches, long straight toes, tapering perfection.
I mean, this man was my accountant, and though he was handsome, I never dreamed he'd be perfect. He motioned to me, and I got up and followed to sit across from him.
He took a deep breath and leveled me with an almost challenging glare through his glasses. "You want to help me?"
I nodded, speechless. He lifted one massive, shapely foot to my lap. I swear I nearly came in my pants at that moment. "Blow my toe."
I ignored the crude language and stared at him. "Wh-what?" "You heard me. Suck on my toe until I'm shouting and incoherent."
Blow my toe until my eyes roll back. The words from the message rang in my head. And then it all fell into place. Hadn't my pen pal complained of a headache, too? Impossible.
I'd always imagined my pen pal was some hulking jock, a colossal muscle-bound fellow who could crush me with one hand and walked around half-naked all day. Not my razor-sharp accountant, impeccably dressed in an elegant black suit and silver tie. I'd pictured sneakers and athletic socks, not obscenely expensive black dress shoes. His feet were immense, it was true, but they were slender with a refined, graceful bone structure, not rough-hewn and wide and blocky like I had seen in my head.
A groan brought me back to the present, and I glanced down to realize my thumb massaged the ball of his foot in circular motions. My eyes flew to his face.
"Want me to blow your toe until your eyes roll back?" Spence's breath hitched. His dark eyes widened. "What did you say?" "You heard me." I gave him an evil grin. "I heard it helps kick a headache."
Spence wrenched his foot out of my grip. "Don't even tell me. "Sounds like it, doesn't it?" He stammered. "So...so, all those times...it was you? I shrugged, still shocked myself. In a daze, I bent down and lifted his huge foot to my nose.
This time, he let me. He smelled incredible, like musk and leather and...feet. I felt dizzy. He'd asked me to suck until he shouted, hadn't he? It helped his headaches. My cock twitched. I wanted to make him shout until his deep, resonating voice turned hoarse.
I brushed his sole with soft kisses. He moaned and put his head back. I rubbed every inch of that mammoth foot with my thumbs, wanting to help him relax. He slumped in his chair.
Finally, I touched the tip of my tongue to the tip of his big toe, the place people say is connected with the head. He cried out and bucked his hips.
Then I couldn't hold back. I seized that big toe in my mouth and sucked wildly, pulling at it as if my hunger couldn't be satisfied. Spence began to moan and groan and grunt. I glanced up to find he still wore his suit jacket. He'd undone the tie and tossed it aside, and a giant bulge in his perfectly creased trousers told me how turned on he was.
My own cock swelled in my pants at the sight. The hard planes of his face looked especially harsh. His dark eyes were wide behind his glasses, his mouth agape, and his knuckles white as he gripped the arms of the chair. I continued to suck, amazed at the way his entire body writhed from the mere sensation of my mouth on his foot.
After a few minutes, I lowered my head and began to blow. I dipped and nodded my head like mad, wanting to make him crazy. "O-o-ohhhh!" He called out, the croaky groan dragging from his throat as if he couldn't suppress it.
My tongue swirled around the ball of his foot, and I pressed kisses to his sole, but always I returned to his toe, sucking until my cheeks hollowed. Yes! Harder! Oh, God!" He began to shout, raising his voice to a pitch I'd never heard. My soft-spoken accountant was not so timid, after all. I obeyed and sucked harder, taking in his second and third toes, too.
Oh! Ah, ah!" His eyes rolled back in his head. I slipped his foot from my mouth and lowered it to my lap. It took him a minute to realize I'd stopped. "Wh...what are you doing?" He stuttered.
I shrugged. "What you told me to. You said to stop when you became incoherent and your eyes went vague." He struggled to sit up. "Oh, God, no, please." "What?" I tried not to smile.
"Please, Langdon!" He pushed his sole in my face, but I tilted my head back. His toe brushed my chin.
He swallowed and whispered: "Blow my toe until I explode." With that, he unbuttoned his pants. His long cock sprang out and pointed to the ceiling, so hard and full I could tell he was almost gone.
I accepted the toe hovering below my chin, grabbed his other foot from the table, and put that toe in my mouth, too. Spence's hips came up off the chair. It was unbelievable. A serious man, still fully dressed in a black suit and glasses, arching his back like a madman and pumping his cock with both hands all because I had his toes in my mouth.
I blew his toes for another thirty seconds or so, before he started thrashing in his chair. "Ah, AH, ah, AH, AAAHHH!" He bellowed, his face a contorted mask, his mouth wide open. His shouts were so damn loud, I winced. I'll never forget what he looked like, though, sprawled in the chair, his toes pressed against my lips, his cock spurting seed clear across the room. It still gets me off.
The next morning, I opened my email to find two lines: I hope you're happy. The migraine is as distant a memory as my voice. I smiled. I happened to know the perfect cure for a rough throat, but that's another story.