Foot Slave Goes Camping

Spring had finally returned. The snow had melted, the ground had thawed, and green leaves were budding in the trees. Now that the pandemic was nearing an end, we felt like things outside our house were going to get back to normal.

Inside our house, our own new normal had taken hold. I had quite gratefully become my wife's foot slave. Our home gym adventure where I tongue-cleaned my cum off her sexy sweaty feet had been the beginning of a new sexual era for us.

She enjoyed the power she had, where the promise of her feet could get me to do anything she ordered, my mouth ready to explore the familiar curves of her feet, my tongue ready to clean up any mess I made. And, the more often we played, the deeper my devotion and addiction to my submission to her became who I was.

I had also gotten extraordinarily used to the taste of my own cum. In fact, as taboo as I still felt that it was, I had grown to actually enjoy it. I didn't want to go jack off in a cup and enjoy it in my morning cup of coffee. But, the taste, the warmth, the silky sticky feeling of it from her skin... I quite often craved it. .

—

We were finally going to hang out with our best friends, Stephanie and Matt. They had moved a couple hours away from us a few years before COVID struck and, pre-lockdowns, had gotten into the habit of often vacationing together. Unfortunately, that had to fall by the wayside last year. And now, with most businesses still subject to mask mandates, stadiums limiting capacity, and tourist destinations not wanting people showing up, it limited our options. But, that was all okay - we preferred to get away from people and spend time out in nature. We wanted to be outdoors, to camp and spend our days hiking mountain trails and exploring the surrounding forests and lakes. Our nights around a campfire, socializing with friends.

We agreed on a location and dates and, when the day arrived, loaded up our car to head out for some much needed rest and recreation.

The four of us found a nice secluded spot with ease; the campsite was large but pretty rustic, well-shaded, and away from other campsites. Plus, the entire campground was sparsely populated. Aside from Rangers and ground squirrels, we essentially had the place to ourselves.

We set up the site pretty quickly - tents up, mattresses inflated - and still had plenty of light left in the day to do some exploring. We changed our clothes, put on our trail shoes, filled up our water bottles, and headed out. Spending the next couple of hours hiking around seeing what was nearby.

As the light quickly began to fade, we found ourselves back at camp. The wife and I got some dinner started, Stephanie and Matt got a fire going, and we all grabbed some drinks before catching up, telling stories, and reminiscing on past friends and experiences.

It wasn't too long and my wife, still wearing her hiking shoes, decided to prop her feet up in my lap. She gave me a look and a knowing nod toward her feet. I knew exactly what to do and began to unlace her boots as she continued in the conversation.

In all the years that we've been together, this was actually pretty out of character. She never would have previously entertained the thought of any sort of public display, never once resting her feet on me with others around. As tame a gesture as it was, it just wasn't her nature.

I slipped the first boot off and was instantly hit with the smell of warm sweat from our short hike. I wanted to bring the boot to my nose and inhale deeply, but resisted the urge due to the company we currently shared while knowing I might get the opportunity in the tent later. Then the second boot came off and both were set down on the ground beside me.

Both socked feet now rested in my lap, my thumb exploring and finding the knot in the arch of her left foot. I looked up and noticed that both Stephanie and Matt's gaze had shifted to me. Apparently, as transfixed and I was, I had missed a question that was directed my way.

I looked to my wife, who smiled at me, and told them that I must have been sleepy from the drive and the alcohol. I stumbled through some sort of response, saying that, yes, that must be it. And, that I was just comfortable and dazed sitting next to the fire with good friends and good alcohol.

Stephanie's gaze didn't leave me, though. She watched as I massaged my wife's feet. There was obviously some envy there; she looked at Matt, but made no motion to ask him for similar treatment. .

Through all of that, I hadn't even noticed that Stephanie had put on navy blue flip flops. Her thin size six feet propped up warming next to the fire, toes painted a light purple, faint lines from her socks still etched in her skin, and a threaded purple and blue anklet tied in a knot around her left ankle.

Out of all the women friends in our lives, Stephanie's feet were second only to my wife. I've noticed that she's always taken very good care of them and have imagined what they must feel like to hold, to smell, and to taste. I considered Matt to be a lucky guy, though I didn't even know if he had a fetish.

As I massaged, I snuck my finger inside my wife's sock and met her eyes. A subtle nod of approval and I gently removed it, the cotton peeling away from her soles. I removed the second and shoved both socks into the pocket of my shorts and returned to massaging. Through it all, I could feel that Stephanie's eyes hadn't really looked away from the job my hands were doing.

Finally, all tired and warm with booze, we said our goodnights and moved toward our tents. "Carry me," my wife said, "I don't want to walk barefoot through the rocks." So, I did as I was told and carried her to the tent, putting her down at the edge. We unzipped the door and ducked inside.

I zipped the door back up and turned around and she was already laying down on the mattress. It was dark, but I could see her looking up at me. She lifted her foot up and grazed the front of my shorts, "how's this guy doing?" She whispered.

"Oh yeah, he's good," I said.

"Well, don't think you're going to get to use him tonight," she whispered with dominance in her voice. "But, you're not done taking care of my feet yet."

Initially disheartened, thinking that I might get some cummy footplay out here in the wild, I perked right up knowing that I still got to play with her feet some more.

"You did a great job rubbing them, but I need these feet clean for tomorrow's hike," she ordered. "Now, get down here and do you job, my obedient foot boy."

I jumped at the opportunity, wanting to please her. Kneeling and then taking her feet in my hands, I laid at the end of the bed and began worshipping them deeply. My nose pressed into her toes, my lips kissing her sole. I inhaled the smell of her feet. Sweet but sharp with sweat.

I took each toe individually into my mouth, sucked on it, twirled my tongue around it to ensure that it had total attention paid to it. My tongue exploring the space between each toe and the umami taste it presented, her arch, every single inch of skin from ankle to the tips of her toes, her foot tops and soles.

My cock was raging hard by this point, eager to be released to feel these feet wrapped around it. To unload streams of sticky sperm on them. My mouth watering even more in anticipation of that second foot cleaning.

"May I please cum on your feet, my goddess?"

"Oh slave, no. No, I don't think so. Not tonight." She responded. "I told you that you weren't going to get to use your cock tonight. Besides, I saw you ogling Stephanie's feet. I won't reward you for that. Now, thank you for cleaning my feet. Take your shorts off and come to bed. For your punishment, under no circumstances can you touch that cock."

Defeated was how I felt. And a little embarrassed. But, I wouldn't dare defy her, and I slid my shorts down. My erection emerging from my boxer briefs.

"And, before you lay down, do you still have my socks?"

I reached down to my shorts on the floor of the tent, "I do," I said and went to hand them to her.

"Good. I want you to sleep with them. Cuddle up with them and smell my sweaty feet all night."

I laid down on my side, bunched her socks up in my hands, and breathed in her scent while she quickly drifted off to sleep, fully relaxed from the foot worship she had just gotten; her feet and legs now tangled up with mine.

I struggled with sleep; I was in and out all night, unsure whether I was dreaming or living reality. Images of my wife's feet and Stephanie's feet, flip flops and socks dancing through my head all night long.

—-

We got up somewhat early on Day Two, made coffee and breakfast, got ourselves ready for the day, and headed out to explore even more of what the forest had to offer. There was a trail to the top of a mountain that we were all eager to do - about six hours round trip.

I tended to lag a bit behind, still a little tired from a restless night. But, the coffee kicked in and it didn't really take me long to get up-to-speed for the day. It also gave me the added benefit of being able to watch the two beautiful women in front of me. Wearing shorts, their bare legs straining at the incline, ankles stressing against the hem of their socks. It was quite a view and I was the only person in the world watching it.

We reached the top and the view was incredible; it felt like you could see for 50 miles in any direction under the brilliantly blue sky - small puffy clouds dotted the horizon, a blanket of dark green trees sat below.

We got out our snacks and spent an hour or so just soaking up the sun, laughing and joking around before heading back down the trail to camp. By the time we got there, we'd need to start thinking about dinner.

Same responsibilities as the night before - wife and I making food, Stephanie and Matt rekindled the fire. We had our meal, a couple more drinks, and found ourselves in the same seats as the night before. We continued the conversations, the laughs, and the fun. Only this time I immediately noticed that Stephanie had changed into those dark blue flip flops.

Once again, after a few adult beverages, my wife's feet found their way into my lap. Without even needing her permission, and knowing my place, I unlaced and removed her boots.

As I went to take her sweaty socked feet into my hands to massage, Stephanie looked at me and spoke up, "how do you get him to do that?"

"What's that?" I asked.

Looking over to my wife, Stephanie again asked "how do you get him to rub your feet like that? They have to be sweaty and stinky. I can't get Matt to rub my feet for me even if I've just showered."

"Yeah, that's because they're feet. Feet are gross," Matt chimed. Seemingly irritated by the comment.

"No, baby. Not my feet. I take good care of them!" said Stephanie.

"Yeah, Matt," Said my wife, "Plus, she's your wife and look at them, they're sexy as fuck. You need to pamper her. Give those feet some love."

Matt laughed it off but still didn't make any movement toward Steph's feet. It was a shame.

"Well, if he's not going to do it," my wife said, "take my spot." And, with that, she removed her feet and motioned for Stephanie to put hers in my lap.

Holy shit. Was this really happening? This shifted so quick and I was unprepared, not even imagining that this would be a possibility.

It took just seconds and Stephanie had moved her chair near me and placed her feet in my lap, her toes and wrinkled soles pointing right at my face.

I had no idea how I was going to hide my suddenly pulsing erection from her, her feet were just inches away. I know my wife could tell exactly what she did; it was not only an amazing gift, but also a savage punishment. I had zero doubt in my mind that I was going to be found out by Steph and Matt. That they were going to think I was some sort of pervert and laugh at me for the rest of the trip.

"Please, I could so use a massage. My feet are exhausted!" pleaded Stephanie.

I looked to my wife, my goddess, and received that look that gave me all the approval I needed. To confirm it even further, she smiled and softly said, "go ahead."

I took Stephanie's right foot into my hands, my thumbs gently pressing into her soles. I could feel the cool night air had chilled them, but I could still feel the stickiness from the sweat from today's hike. They didn't smell at all, or at least I couldn't smell them, but they felt great. Skin as soft as silk, a small wrinkle to her sole, and they were definitely smaller in my hands than my wife's were - they were quite petite and felt delicate.

Matt just watched, seemingly happy that I was doing the job that he was unwilling to do. There wasn't an ounce of jealousy or anger from him at all, but I hope he felt at least a little bad - these were incredibly gorgeous feet. Perfectly polished and well-maintained, no blemishes aside from a cute little brown freckle on the pinky toe of her right foot.

Unbeknownst to me, my wife was removing her socks. Then, in a blink, her bare feet also returned to my lap. I was now surrounded by two pairs of sexy naked feet. Her right foot laid directly against my erection and I could see her smile out of the corner of my eye. It was clear, she knew exactly what she was doing to me.

I continued massaging Stephanie's feet. "This feels amazing," she exhaled. "Oh Matt, you need to learn how to do this." Matt said nothing.

All the attention was now on me.

"How did you learn to do this? You should be a professional foot massager."

I felt honored, I was really happy to share with her. And, touching her feet was a very unexpected, yet very enjoyable experience. One that I was absolutely relishing in.

My wife smiled again and said "Here's a thing that you don't know, Steph..."

Stephanie looked at her curiously.

"He's a foot guy."

My heart pounded in my chest. I felt immediate embarrassment, judgment, and didn't know what move to make next. My hands stopped massaging but stayed wrapped around Stephanie's foot.

"Foot guy? Like... foot fetish foot guy?" Steph's voice went up when she asked this, inquisitively. Like it was a term she was vaguely familiar with but wasn't entirely sure she was using correctly.

"Yep, that's exactly what it is. He LOVES feet, can't get enough of them. You should see the things he'll do to get his hands on mine."

I was mortified. These were our best friends, but this was completely new information that was being shared that they had previously had no clue about. The number of people in the world that knew that I had a foot fetish could have been counted on one hand before that moment. And, now there were instantly two more.

"What do you mean 'the things he does'? What is there to do with feet?" Stephanie was genuinely curious. But, surprisingly to me, she did not move back in her seat, did not remove her feet from my lap, and wanted to know more about it.

Matt remained silent, just observing this sudden change in the course of events.

My wife let out a very knowing laugh. "I'm not sure you're ready to know everything he does yet. But, if you're liking this massage as much as it seems that you are, I think you'll like what he can do next... if you want."

"Oh, I am liking this massage quite a bit. So yeah, show me what's next!" she said.

My wife looked at Matt. "Are you ok with this?"

"Yeah," he said. "Surprisingly I am. This is... interesting. Learning a lot about my friends right now."

I was actually a little confused and didn't know what steps to take next. My heart was pounding out of my chest, my cock was pulsing with every heartbeat. Everybody was looking at me, waiting for what I was going to do next.

My wife pulled her bare feet out of my lap, sliding her arch over my shorts and across my dick. There was no doubt that Stephanie could now clearly see the erection tenting my shorts that I had just been trying to conceal.

"Go ahead, foot slave. Worship her feet."

I took a deep breath trying to steady my nerves, elevated Steph's right foot toward my face, and looked my wife straight in the eyes before turning back to the foot in my hands. Leaning forward I placed my lips on her big toe giving it a gentle kiss. I moved my mouth down the side of the toe toward the arch, kissing her foot, letting my tongue savor the taste of her soft and sexy foot.

Returning to her toes, I looked up to her face, watching her study my actions intently and with curiosity. I inserted her big toe into my mouth and closed my lips around it, gently sucking, and watched as her eyes closed and her head laid back on her camp chair.

"Holy fuck," she moaned, and she reflexively extended her left foot out, pressing her toes sole straight into my throbbing cock.

I continued, deliberately paying special attention to each toe before licking the sole of her foot from heel to toe. Every length I licked, as I crossed her arch, caused the toes of her left foot to scrunch up, pressing harder against my shaft, somewhat giving me a footjob over my shorts. No doubt she was aware of what she was doing and what her toes were rubbing against.

The taste of her foot was salty, yet sweet. The closest thing that would describe it is as a lightly salty peach. And there was only a very faint scent of sweat, so faint that there was almost no scent of which to speak.

I gently laid her right foot into my lap, picked up the left, and continued to worship. Smelling, kissing, licking, and sucking. I could feel her body shivering, she was quite clearly enjoying her first foot worshipping experience.

Finally, every part of her foot having been served, I lifted my head to look at Stephanie, and thanked her for this once-in-a-lifetime experience, knowing that I would likely never again have this opportunity with these feet.

"So, Steph..." my wife began.

"Mmm... Mhmm?" the most Stephanie could manage, her eyes still closed.

"What did you think?" she asked.

As Stephanie finally removed her feet from my lap and readjusted her seated position, my goddess wife placed her bare feet back into my lap, rubbing against my pulsating cock, and motioned to me to continue my evening worship session. I did so with enthusiasm, hoping that the opportunity to cum was in my near future.

"Oh my god," said Stephanie, her voice aching with pleasure. "That was... indescribable. So unlike anything I've ever experienced. I need to get me one of those."

"A foot boy?" Asked my wife.

"Yes, a foot slave! I seriously need that in my life."

My wife smiled and looked down at me with her toes deep in my mouth, her other foot petting my inner thigh. "Well, I think it's about time we get to bed, we've got the lake tomorrow. Matt, I think you have your work cut out for you."

"Hope he was paying attention," said Stephanie.

To his credit, Matt had been. For a guy that had just said that feet were gross, he had watched another man pleasure his wife's feet witj intrigue. He and Stephanie gathered themselves and started to head toward the tent.

"Hey Steph," my wife called out, "one last thing. Think you could give us your socks as a souvenir of all this?"

"They stink and they're filthy."

"All the better," she said, turning to look at me, "he needs a nice reward. Always remember to reward your footboy."

Stephanie grabbed the sweaty socks from inside her boots and walked them over, handing them to me. I took them and pressed them to my nose and inhaled, their scent giving away that hint of peach mixed with leather.

My wife and I headed to our tent, me carrying her across the rocks before slipping inside.

"Before you ask, no, you may not cum tonight. You've had more than your fair share of reward. In fact, I think it's me that deserves a 'thank you' for what I allowed you to do."