Best Foot Forward

Author's Note

Best Foot Forward is written at the request of Literotica member, ariel007a.

It's a story of a smart, confident, and ambitious teen kid, Justin's aggressive takeover of the life and business of Roger Edmund Jackson, an established, mature family man.

Credit is due to Ariel for providing the inspiration and the plot outline from which the story is developed. I've also drawn inspiration from the Literotica story, The Table That Turns by the author, Usualsuspectksa.

Best Foot Forward is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to real-life characters is purely coincidental and unintended.

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CHAPTER 01: A New City, A New Start

Justin's riches to rags and back to riches life story begins in one of the more affluent, exclusive areas of the United Kingdom's capital city, London. He grew up with the best of everything a young man could wish for, the spoilt only child of highly-educated medical profession parents. His parents had enough money and generosity to ensure their one and only child received the very best education money could buy at some of London's most prestigious private boarding schools.

Justin hardly ever had to hear a "no" to his requests. If there was one thing lacking in his early life, it was the time his parents gave him. Their hectic personal schedule meant while they spent money on Justin, they didn't quite connect with him the way one would expect of parents.

Like his mom and dad, Justin was intellectually smart and physically fit. By the time he left school at 16 he had achieved A-grade passes in all subjects, was already a jiu-jitsu 9^th-degree red belt, and was earmarked as a potential calisthenics' instructor. But that's where Justin's early life successes stopped. Where he differed from his parents was, Justin had very little motivation to try and push himself, to challenge himself. He had become accustomed to making a demand and his parents bending over backward to fulfill it.

By the time Justin hit 18, genes and fitness had played a role in shaping a drop-dead-gorgeous stud who stood at a towering 6ft 3", 188 lbs, perfect 8-pack defined abs, dusty blond, wavy hair he kept long to his shoulders, striking large wide green eyes and just an overall superb muscular physical form and a level of confidence to match. Girls (and guys) would trip over one another to be his friend, girlfriend, or boyfriend.

Justin had even managed to develop a sexual attachment to his mom. The fact that Justin had spent years living away from home while studying at boarding schools and his mom's busy lifestyle meant they never really formed much of a true mom-son relationship. To his mom, Justin was just a hot young man and to Justin, his mom was the perfect MILF of his fantasies. The chemistry was there and the two connected without the least inhibition.

The "Surfer Dude" stereotype has become somewhat of a cliché in contemporary times to describe an irresistibly handsome young man but in Justin's case, even that didn't do justice. Justin was in a class of his own. He stood at the very pinnacle of male perfection.

Justin had the kind of beautiful muscular physique that was neither unnatural nor gross in appearance. Not enormous, overly bulky, or ugly muscles but rather exquisitely chiseled, finely-tuned, and proportioned. The fact his skin was of natural tan hue only accentuated his muscle definition, making it all the more striking and apparent. If Justin's physique could be described as a classical symphony, then its composer, God, can be called Beethoven.

Justin was also well-endowed where it mattered most, with an erect cock an impressive 9.5" cut, 5" girth. He had it all - from money, breathtakingly good looks, to health and confidence but as destiny would dictate, he came close to losing it all as soon he set foot into adulthood.

From the age of 16 to 18, family circumstances went downhill. Justin's growing independence brought out his parent's simmering relationship difficulties more to the forefront, who both now had one less reason to try and make the relationship work. By the time Justin hit 18, the divorce and settlement were already complete.

Though a very bright young man, Justin had chosen not to pursue higher education and one day simply walked out of the home with just the clothes he was wearing. He left his life behind, randomly heading without any forethought to the central England city of Birmingham. Without a plan, he started living the life of a homeless young man, sleeping in the streets, washing cars, or idly sitting on the sides of busy streets hoping for some "spare change" to be dropped down to him.

CHAPTER 02: The Magic of Bare Feet

Justin celebrated his 18^th birthday outdoors, sitting on a dirty mat surrounded by a ragtag group of fellow rough sleepers in freezing climate on the outskirts of downtown Birmingham. A young woman had made him a birthday card by drawing a cake on a piece of cardboard that she'd folded in half and taped two £1 coins in the middle. A far cry from the life of plenty Justin had enjoyed growing up with his parents.

Justin noticed he had one regular donator in the first few weeks of his life as a homeless kid. He was a very smartly dressed, slim, handsome man who looked to be in his early 40s, around 5ft 9", 175 lbs, with salt-and-pepper, neatly trimmed hair and beard. He'd always be in a business suit, wearing expensive shoes and exclusive Swiss watches.

Justin noticed how he'd walk past a row of other homeless people including elderly women who all looked more in need of donation than the rugged, well-built 18-year-old Justin. His donations to Justin were no more generous than most people's, often as little as 20 pence or 50 pence. He also used to linger sometimes, make small talk, good eye contact, and have a satisfied smile. He would never just throw money down into Justin's oak bowl, always taking care to kneel and place it directly in Justin's hand and often rubbing his hand to get some skin contact.

It pissed Justin off that someone obviously loaded and eager to donate to him yet was so mean with his money! Justin noticed how he would stare at his body, taking in all of Justin and eyes lingering curiously extra-long time on Justin's protruding crotch area and his tattered size 15 boots.

Justin had made up his mind to severely punish the old pervert: This rich motherfucker is obsessed with my good looks, that much is clear. The dirty-minded bastard thinks he can take advantage of my youth and homelessness. He wants to touch my hands, ogle my body, and lusts after my fucking feet and cock yet he wants to cling to his money. I'll teach him a lesson he'll never forget. If there's one of us who's going to take advantage of the other, it'll be me! I'll put the dirtbag in his proper place!

It occurred to Justin to test this regular guy. One day when Justin saw him walking towards him, he hurriedly pulled off his tattered Doc Martens Icon Holkham St boots and started flexing the meaty toes of his size 15 feet through the dirty socks. When the mysterious man approached closer, his eyes immediately fell to Justin's socked feet and his lips stretched into an unmistakable lustful, hungry grin. What the fuck? thought Justin, this loser's attracted to my damn feet more than my boots! Justin flexed his toes all the more vigorously and was rewarded with a £1 coin for the first time. That's good Progress, thought Justin, I'm going to have to make better use of my sizeable feet from now on.

The next day, Justin decided to test bare feet vs socks, so he pulled off his socks too and very deliberately raised his bare right foot to slide it against the pants of the stranger, pushing the toes in on the knee. After feeling the foot rub his knee, the stranger, who was about to place £2 in Justin's hand, reached in his pocket and fished out another £3. Nice, thought Justin, my bare feet have even more magical power than socks. Then a thought crossed his mind, what about my chunky, long cock? The stranger's meek, submissive response to Justin's bare feet emboldened him to go further the next day.

Justin obviously couldn't expose himself in public but the next time he saw the submissive man, he unzipped his fly, exposing the profile of his cock through the white underpants, rubbing it until it was a nice, thick rod, stretching the fabric of his underpants like a tentpole propping it up. Perfect. Justin decided to double-up on the seduction by bringing his bare feet into the mix. As the man approached him, he looked hypnotized, drawn to Justin's ample bulge. Justin was also, in a seductive, teasing manner, gently rocking his bare feet side to side to draw attention. It was working. The man so hastily reached in his billfold to pull out a £10 bill that he accidentally dropped his business card onto the sidewalk without realizing he'd done it. Justin immediately repositioned his left foot to cover the card under the dirty bare sole.

As the man stooped to place the £10 bill into Justin's hand, Justin grabbed his arm, making him jump but unable to escape the vice grip that now held him immobile.

"You fucking love my huge bare feet and cock, don't you, fag?" Justin whispered in the man's ear, pulling his head closer with the other hand behind the man's neck. "How about you stop being so fucking mean and start giving me what I'm worth? You want your freedom, right? Well, there's no such thing as a free lunch in life. Hand over £50 right now to buy your release, foot fag." Justin raised his right leg and planted his grimy bare sole in the man's stomach, smudging and creasing the expensive white shirt.

This was the first time Roger heard Justin speak more than just a quick word or two. It surprised and confused him. Here was a young hobo with a difference. One who wasn't only overflowing with confidence but one who, admittedly, spoke crude language yet with an English accent more suited to the British royal family or Westminster's political elite than some common lower working-class Birmingham homeless riff-raff.

"I... err, I mean... er... yes of course, of course, you deserve more, please release me so that I may I pay more," was all the pathetic loser could say held helpless in Justin's grip as he looked around to check not too many people were witnessing his humiliation at the hands (and the feet) of the scruffy, homeless teen.

Justin eased his grip, allowing the red-faced man to take out further £40 from his billfold and hand over £50 to Justin. As he stood up straight to walk away, Justin picked up one of his thick woolly boot socks and whipped the man's face with it.

Without the least resistance, all the man could do was quickly say, "I'm sorry.... Yes, all my fault.... Er, thank you, thank you, sir."

After the man left, Justin took his left foot off the business card, wiped away the dirt it had collected from under the grimy sole, and read the name -- Roger E Jackson. He was the owner and managing director of a mirror manufacturing company. A satisfied grin spread across Justin's handsome face as he thought how he'd quite literally just had the man himself, his full name, the name of the company he owned, the business address, and his full contact details all under his dirty feet. Plus, I made the butt plug hand over £50. Not a bad day's work.

CHAPTER 03: An Easy Interview

Justin kept the card in his pocket and decided he was going to meet up with this Roger Jackson on his home turf but first Justin needed to get a job to make a start. He was an intelligent young man with top grades from school. He was fit and healthy too. Justin just needed to shake himself out of the homeless life rut he had let himself fall into and get his lifestyle back.

To start with, working as a garbage collector was his first thought. Just a good attitude and a good fitness level are required. He had it all. It took Justin no time at all to be employed by the local council and was soon on his rounds collecting garbage door to door. He enjoyed the outdoor work and manly banter with the lively guys he worked with but this job was just a start to something much bigger. Justin had other ideas, grand ideas, to realize his full potential.

Two months into the job Justin felt now was the time to make his next move. He sent his résumé to Roger, pitching himself as a budding young salesman with masses of potential, going to the extreme of listing irrelevant info like his body stats, elaborating his dashing good looks, and attaching several images of himself including one bare-chested showing off his beautifully sculptured, completely hairless muscular upper body with mouth-watering 8-pack abs.

Justin was no mug. He knew these weren't appropriate images to send with a résumé normally but he'd already sussed out Roger's weakness and was determined to exploit it to the max. Justin was also aware he was unrecognizable in the photos with his now clean-shaven face and trimmed, though still long, flowing blond hair. A far cry from his teenager's wispy-stubbled face and disheveled homeless look of two months prior.

Justin received a response within hours of emailing the résumé, inviting him to call and arrange an interview with the MD himself since it was an important position, even at an intern level. It's the salespersons after all who keep the business going. Justin called and arranged an interview for the next day.

Justin arrived 15 minutes late for the interview, dressed inappropriately in jeans and a tight t-shirt accentuating his muscles. He was shown to Roger's office. Justin entered a roomy office and saw the smartly-dressed Roger on the other side of the huge desk. Roger showed no sign of recognizing Justin, who casually sat on the chair without waiting to be asked and leaned back at ease, not showing any nervousness or even any sign of respect for his interviewer.

Justin glanced around the office, taking in all the expensive equipment it was laced with. Yeah, thought Justin, not a bad place to make a new start.

"Erm, shall we make start?" Roger spoke first.

"Yeah sure... or rather, wait a sec...," Justin got up from the chair, walked over to the coffee machine, and got himself a cup of cappuccino before sitting down again. "You now have my permission to continue..., Roger."

Permission? Roger? Just who the fuck does this punk think he is! The angry thought burnt through Roger's head. While Justin's attitude annoyed Roger, the voice and accent struck him as very impressive and... familiar? Now, where have I heard this voice before? It must be one of the British royals on the news recently... no, that's just the accent but this deep, manly voice...? Roger gave up. His mind couldn't connect the clean, very presentable young man sitting before him with the smudgy-faced homeless "Tarzan" he'd last seen some 9 weeks ago.

"So, Justin, one thing we can clear up right at the start. In all job roles, discipline comes first and good timekeeping is essential. Time is money, see? It's not a bad idea for an intern to demonstrate he's got that discipline, that he can show up on time, not least for an interview. It shows respect for others and talking of respect, it's best to address your interviewers by their surname, more formally and respectfully. You certainly don't permit them to do anything. This interview will serve the purpose of a good training run for you but should you wish to walk away right now, you're free to do so. Beyond interview practice for an ambitious young man, I don't intend to offer you the job itself."

Justin just cocked his head to one side, smiled, exposing his brilliant white teeth, leaned further back in his chair. He removed his shoes and kicked his white-socked size 15 feet up onto Roger's desk, crossed at the ankles. He had eclipsed Roger's face with his huge feet, playfully parting them a few times to let Roger catch brief glimpses of the dazzling smile.

"So, Roger, what do you make of the size of my feet? Do you think potential clients would be impressed enough to increase your sales? Or do you think people are interested only in timekeeping and respect?"

"Excuse me, Justin, just what the hell do you think you're playing at?! Get those damned feet off my desk right now!" shouted Roger, getting beet-red with rage now.

Justin casually cocked his head to the other side, waited a moment, seemingly lost in deep thought before slowly pulling off his black t-shirt, swinging it like a lasso, and releasing it over Roger's face, where it momentarily clung before falling onto his lap. Justin just sat there bare-chested in front of Roger, flexed his muscles, heaving his pecs slowly up and down, raising his arms to show his bulging biceps. Not an ounce of visible fat on the 18-year-old's golden body.

"So how about now, Roger boy?" Justin asked casually, grinning again. "Do you reckon I've got potential?" Justin rocked his feet side to side some more.

"I think this interview is over. We can't continue like this......," Roger started to say before he felt something push against his crotch. He hadn't noticed Justin had removed his left foot from the desk and, stretching his long leg under the table, was now digging the toes of his socked foot right into Roger's balls and emerging boner.

"I see, I do have the qualities to.... impress, shall we say...?" Justin pressed his toes in and out of Roger's crotch a few times to make the point.

Roger was lost for words. Just what the fuck's going on here? How's this teen brat who's only just walked into my office barely 5 minutes ago able to take over control, exploiting what should be my secret weakness? These thoughts were still echoing in his mind when a sharp foot jolt to his balls brought him back to his senses.

"Well then, Roger boy, I asked a question. Do I have what's required or should I impress you 'til someone walks through the door and sees your mature man's junk getting crushed out of existence under the foot of a young kid?" Justin repeated his question with a threatening tone, his expression now shifting to a more serious look.

"No.... No... Hang on a minute, please let me just take a drink of water. You know I'm married. I've got a family... I... er... need to keep my business going... I can't... I mean, I don't...," Roger started throwing out incoherent words.

"Look, boy, I've got no time to waste. Let's make this really easy for you. I start my salesman role tomorrow. My working hours will be 10 in the morning to 2 in the afternoon with an entitlement to 1-hour lunch. A company car will be provided. I'll be shown the pay scales of skilled salesmen you employ and my salary will be higher than all of them even at my part-time hours. A pension scheme is a must, as well as of course all travel costs including to and from work reimbursed. Any other perks that come to my mind I'll tell you later..., bitch. Is that agreed?"

Pin-drop silence.

Justin prods his sole into Roger's balls again, this time keeping firm pressure applied.

"I said is that fucking agreed, dumbass?!" Justin switches to a mean expression and starts to grind his foot into Roger's junk.

"Yes.... Yeah, yes of course... of course... I'll make the arrangements tomorrow, please kindly ease off on my balls now, please... sir, please don't crush my balls under your foot," Roger wisely decided to submit to the boy's aggression right now and buy himself some thinking time.