Cleaning Mike’s feet

I hurriedly organized the coffee table before taking another hit on the bong. Mike would be here any minute and I wanted the place to look nice.

It was a sweltering June afternoon, and he was coming from the beach. My cock stirred as I imagined him in his swim trunks. His lean and toned body was always tanned, and he stood 6’3. Though 31 years old, he had a boyish face that made him look more in his early twenties, with brown eyes and light brown hair that he cropped short. He had a shit eating grin that made my heart flutter a bit.

And he had size 13 feet, long and quite often sandy since Mike loved the beach. A skater and surfer, Mike was barefoot and shirtless more often than not, and many a time when we’d hang out id catch myself glancing down at his feet. The sight of dirt or sand pressed into the bottom and between his toes would stir my pants a little, which Mike loved.

It had taken me a while to find a dom who enjoyed just having me clean his feet for long periods of time. We do other things, of course, but feet have always been my biggest fetish, and I could spend a whole evening licking dirt and grime from them. A lot of doms will say they’re into that, but get bored after fifteen minutes or so. Not mike, he loves sitting or lying back and letting me take my time cleaning every inch of his feet, and is always elated to take a quick walk around the yard or beach to get them dirty again after I’m done.

We get blitzed beforehand and I always like doing poppers when I worship him; it really takes it to the next level.

Mike let himself in as I finished straightening up the living room. Just as I had hoped he was shirtless and wearing flip flops, caked with sand. That big grin of his was shining.

I wasted no time, dropping to my hands and knees and crawling before him. I leaned in and kissed his bare feet, feeling the sand and sweat on my lips. I opened them to let in a tongue full, savoring the taste. Before I continued, I grabbed the bottle of poppers in my pocket. Mike walked to the couch and sat down, and I followed on my hands and knees.

My heart was pounding, I was so excited, and my hands shook as I twisted the cap off. I took a long huff with my left nostril, followed by the right, then lifted the bottle up to Mike who eagerly accepted it.

I looked down at the gorgeous size 13’s in front of me- my fantasy, what I dreamed of as a horny teenage boy; some sexy chill dom who’s turned on by my burning desire to eat the dirt off his feet. The popper’s heavy rhythms began to pulse in my head, and my excitement turned to unbridled ecstasy as my face rushed down to meet my masters dirty feet.

I heard Mike snicker playfully as I dragged my tongue along the toes of his right foot, a layer of wet sand coating it. I savored the taste; salty and grainy. My head pounded, but it felt so good. I pursed my lips and pressed them against his toes again; i was so turned on I almost came, my cock hard and pressed against the floor.

My tongue explored between two middle toes, slowly and methodically. I quickly got a familiar taste; tart and salty, most people would wince at the idea of licking toe jam from a man’s foot, but I was in heaven as I sucked it up from Mike’s. The warm drumming of the poppers magnified the carnal satisfaction of it all; as I dutifully scrubbed the dirt and dead skin from my masters feet with my tongue, the world shrank down to just me and him.

I reached up to signal him to hand me the poppers again, and he obliged. I liked to keep the buzz rolling before it fades; I inhaled two long sniffs for each nostril this time, drunk on lust.

Handing them back to Mike and letting the poppers’ thundering wave smash into my head again, I gleefully sank down and nestled my face between his feet. My nose gently nudged his left foot, urging him to lift it up to one side. I smiled like a kid in a candy shop when he leaned his leg over to expose his sole and heel. Fresh sand, darkened from the moisture of his sweat, was packed on hard.

Weed and poppers reverberated in my brain as I hungrily lapped at the bottom of my masters feet, the salt and grime and filth nourishing me. Mike was looking down at me, smiling that big warm grin of his. I smiled back.

He kept my gaze and put his hands behind his head, “how’s it taste?” He asked, a large bulge had risen under his trunks.

I smiled wider, then nibbled on a callus on his right foot, near his big toe. He watched as I kissed and licked it, “so good” was all I could blurt out. My diction was clouded with pleasure and drugs, all I wanted was to serve mike and clean his feet.

He chuckled lightly and took a hit off the bong, still looking down at me as I slurped dirt and sweat from his sole. Tiny clumps of wet sand and sour grime had formed where the bottom of his toes pressed against the balls of his feet. Joy tittered in my heart as I shifted my face up to them; my lips pursed again, I gently sucked the filth up, letting it sit on my tongue.

The poppers pulsed through my head while I meticulously licked the last bits of dirt from under his toes. I was just a little sad, until I remembered his other foot. I looked back up at him and he met my gaze, reaching again for the bong.