His Old Boots Ch. 05

The next week, George showed up after work and made himself comfortable in the living room.

"Bring me a cold beer," he ordered casually, as he turned on the TV.

The football game echoed in the living room, as Ben meekly walked toward the kitchen in silence. Thoughts of the last week's moments crossed his mind: George, Phil and Mike sitting comfortably on the couch, their big legs spread as they watched porn and got their feet and cocks worshiped.

"There you go, sir," said Ben.

George grabbed the bottle from his hand and nodded in approval. He then snapped his fingers and pointed to his boots.

Ben promptly kneeled in front of them, removed them and started massaging the socked feet. He felt the warm, damp texture of the black socks on George's massive soles, and the familiar cheese stink took hold of his nostrils. He rubbed and worshiped the pair, as George quietly watched the game and wiggled his toes.

"Take them off," said George, without looking at him.

Ben obeyed, peeling off the socks quickly and releasing all the foot stench in the air. George sighed comfortably and spread his toes in front of Ben's nose. The masculine look, the strong scent, the warm and wet texture, it all caused an internal reaction. Ben sensed his heartbeat increasing and his dick stiffening.

"Start cleaning, foot fairy," George smirked and sat back, a hand on the back of his head, exposing his hairy armpit.

"Yes, sir, right away," said Ben, his voice shaking.

He lowered his head and tasted the addictive saltiness between the warm toes, becoming more and more familiar with it, to the point where he started craving it. George's toes possessed an exquisite flavor, a combination of all his masculine hormones, his pheromones, his unique essence.

Ben licked between each toe, sucking the jam carefully on the right and left foot, swallowing the sock lint, the warm dirt, the dead skin and everything else, a product of George's hard work. His tongue slid across the sweaty extension of George's soles, massaging the rough spots, rolling and scrubbing along, from the big ball of his feet to his massive heels, back and forth, until he lost track of time.

When they were finally fresh and shining, George looked down at him and grinned.

"Thanks, buddy. You know, it's been great owning you," he said in his casually manly tone. "You're a good foot bitch, doing exactly what you're told. I like this new version of you."

"T-thank you, sir..." replied Ben, looking up and enjoying the view between the large, hairy thighs and juicy torso. "Are we... are we still friends?"

"Hmm..." George seemed to think for a minute. "I guess so. We're friends in front of other people. But in private, I'm the man and you're my bitch."

Ben felt his face blush and the blood pump through his body.

"Is that alright?" asked George.

"Yes, sir, you're right," replied Ben, shaking.

"So tell me, why do you like my feet so much? What makes you get on your knees for them?" George inquired all of a sudden.

Ben thought for a while, trying to understand the way the felt. It was harder than he expected, since the experience was very new to him. His mouth opened and closed again, but no clear words came out.

"Come on, be honest," George encouraged.

"I... I think it's about power. I crave your power and physical strength, and worshiping the bottom of your feet is..."

"It's what?"

"It's a sign of reverence..."

George grinned wider and slowly nodded.

"So you worship my feet so much because you worship me... hmm, interesting," he said, while pushing his right sole against Ben's face. "Do you like how strong I am?"

"Yes, George, sir... you're big and strong, sir... but..."

"But what?"

"I'm ashamed to admit that. It's humiliating to be in this position..."

"I know. But I think you should embrace it," George shoved his toes into Ben's mouth and gagged him. "You can't get over it, so why resist? Embrace it, let it wash over you, get off to your own debasement..."

"Mmmph..."

"It's okay, Ben, there's nothing wrong with being a foot fag. You're not hurting anybody, so what's the problem? Just embrace your dumb feelings... and understand how lucky you are... to worship me."

Ben felt a fire in his chest, and the foot-worshiping trance consumed him.

"Yes, sir, I'm lucky!" he said, between kisses to George's soles. "Thank you, thank you..."

"That's it, accept it, you're my bitch now..." George chuckled.

"Yes, I'm your bitch now, serving your needs, doing whatever you want... thank you..."

"It's your destiny. You were born to serve me," said George firmly.

"Yes, sir, I was born to serve you. And you were born to rule," confirmed Ben.

"Yeah, good boy... From now on, you're my personal footboy, my servant, and you'll do whatever to make my life easier. I'm your boss, now."

"Yes, sir, boss... I can't resist..." Ben kissed the big soles profusely.

George chuckled and grabbed his right boot from the floor. He forced the opening against Ben's face, enveloping his nose and mouth, forcing him to sniff the interior of his damp sweatiness. He tied the lace around Ben's head, in a strong grip.

"Take off your shorts, and get on your hands and knees. I need to rest my legs."

Ben felt a quick slap to his naked balls as soon as he got into position. He squirmed and jumped a little, and the sound was muffled by the big boot. It took him a minute to notice George was tying the shoelace around his balls.

He whined as an interrogation, but George ignored him. The left boot was perfectly tied to the base of his testicles, pulling them down and stretching them uncomfortably. George observed the result and laughed openly at the ridiculous sight.

Ben blushed on all fours. With one boot attached to his face, and another boot hanging from his balls, he probably looked more like an object than a person. He felt the weight of the heavy calves on his back, as George crossed his legs on him and quietly watched the rest of the game.

He lost track of time again, but now things were less fun. The weight on his back became heavier the more he waited. His arms and legs started to shake, and he was forced to inhale the warm, sweaty breath inside the boot, until it started to affect his brain. The lack of oxygen was making him slightly dizzy.

The boot firmly attached to his balls was starting to pull too hard. The pain was getting more difficult to bear, but as George sipped beer and relaxed on the couch, a strange reaction happened. Ben's dick started to twitch pathetically in the air.

Ben stayed in that position for the rest of the game - until the very last second of it. The precum oozed out of his dick, a thin string which fell down and touched the floor.

George scratched his own balls and seemed unbothered. Until the doorbell rang.

"Come in!" he shouted.

Ben heard the door open loudly, and for a moment he froze and thought he was fucked. The loud chuckles that echoed inside the room a second later gave him a surprising relief - Phil and Mike came into view.

They slapped his naked buttocks, chuckling at the ridiculous sight and patting his head in approval.

"Foot fag! Look at him!" said Phil in his stupid country accent.

"The foot fag is learning his place, huh?" said Mike.

"Yeah, he's accepted his place as my bitch," explained George. "And footstool."

Both guys laughed and sat down on the couch. They did not waste any time, spreading their legs wide and resting their feet on Ben's back as well. The weight crushed his back, as the three men discussed the result of the game for a while, and kicked off their boots.

The room was filled with their loud belches and foot stench combined. Ben was almost starting to hallucinate.

"You know what, let's see how much those little balls can hold," said Mike, an evil grin spread across his bully face.

Mike grabbed one of his heavy, dirty boots and attached the shoelace tightly on top of George's. Ben whined and protested again. As the weight pulled his testicles lower, the pressure was almost unbearable.

"Come on, bitch boy, do a few pushups!" mocked Mike.

"Ya know, you read my mind," said Phil, as he grabbed his own dirty boot.

"Hmmph!" Ben protested.

"Shut up and take it, fucktard," said Mike.

Ben looked desperately at George, pleading with his eyes.

"You heard him," said George, his eyes glinting until he winked.

Phil held the boot in the air until he finished attaching the third shoelace to Ben's balls. The grip around his testicles was enough to make him tear up.

"Let's see if he can take that," Phil threatened. "Three, two, one..."

When the boot was released, Ben whined like a desperate pig, prompting evil laughs from all three of them. The brutal weight pulled his poor balls to their limit. His arms and legs started to shake like jelly.

"Yeah, take it, take it..." said Phil.

"Hold it, hold it," encouraged George.

"Aw, look at the loser shaking," Mike mocked mercilessly.

Ben was able to hold it for a whole minute, before the pressure and humiliation finally collapsed him. He fell flat on the carpeted ground. The man cackled on top of him, smacking his naked ass with their feet.

George finally let him free of the boots and untied his balls.

"More beer, quick," said George. "And make us a sandwich."

Ben ran back into the kitchen, almost glad he could rest for a minute. His poor balls felt warm and numb.

When he came back with the beer and three fat ham sandwiches, the men had already made themselves comfortable, with their shorts off, their big fat dongs out, and some sleazy porn on the TV. Ben's house was now their man cave.

Mike waved his sweaty foot in the air and landed them on the coffee table.

"Start rubbing and cleaning," he commanded.

Ben crawled back to the floor and started doing his job. Mike's feet were particularly stinky that day, as if he knew what he was doing. Ben gagged and slid his tongue between the long hairy toes, sucking the cheesy jam the best he could, and feeling the huge warm sole pressed cruelly against his face.

Phil also rested his big wide feet next to Mike's, and the stench was equally brutal. Ben looked up at the man, his mouth open in shock, and the two buddies laughed and high-fived each other. They were clearly trying to compete to see who had the stinkiest feet.

Ben desperately massaged Phil's callused soles and gagged harder, and tried his best to clean the jam between every toe.

"Tell us, buddy, whose feet stink the most?" asked Phil.

"I... I think it's a tie," replied Ben meekly. "They're equally pungent."

"Damn it," said Mike. "I'll have to avoid wearing any socks next week."

"I'll have to avoid washing them at all," provoked Phil.

George chuckled.

"You know you can't compete with me," said George, waving his big dogs in the air. "These bastards are naturally smelly."

The men sat back more comfortably and started beating their meats smoothly to the loud porn on the flat screen. Some bombshell was being gangbanged ruthlessly. They chugged beers, burped and told all kinds of stupid straight guy jokes. Ben controlled his desire to rest, and kept sucking on their cheesy toes in silence.

By the end of the session, the three pairs of soles were fresh and shiny. Ben was almost proud of himself, but he knew the dirty taste would be stuck on his tongue for hours.

When he thought he would have some time to rest, George waved his long dong and snapped his fingers.

"Time to suck big cock," said George.

"Yeah, big sweaty cock, his favorite thing," said Phil.

"Let's gag the fag," suggested Mike, beating his long meat aggressively.

"Yep, let's bang his throat," said Phil.

"Boys, you have a free pass to ravage his throat," said George, grinning.

Ben crawled between George's spread hairy thighs and opened his mouth obediently. His friend grabbed the back of his head with both hands, holding him firmly in place, and shoved two thirds of his fat tool inside his mouth.

"Come on, you can take every inch. Relax that fucking throat..."

Ben took a deep breath and opened his mouth to its limit, being careful not to touch the girthy shaft with his teeth. George guided him down, choking him into a tight grip until his nose landed on the hairy crotch, and the sweaty balls touched his chin, and he was suddenly able to sniff a strong manly musk.

"That's it, now hold still like a good slut," encouraged George. He stared at the screen and enjoyed himself, moving his hips forward, pounding up and down, in and out of Ben's mouth like a comfy fleshlight.

Breathing for Ben was practically impossible, as George choked and gagged him for the next ten minutes. It was much harder this time. They were determined to push his limits and use him for their pleasure. The room was filled with dirty wet sounds of mouth fucking.

Ben had a few seconds to recover before he was pulled by Phil's strong grip, and a minute later, he had big country balls glued to his chin, a fat dong poking the back of his throat, and his drooling mouth making it easier for Phil to ravage him ever faster.

There was not much he could do, besides staying in position on all fours and trying to breathe for a few seconds of mercy, between each brutal thrust. Phil put pressure on his head with his big hands. His face was buried in the hairy crotch.

The room was starting to reek of sweat coming from the men's balls and hairy armpits, but they were all too relaxed to even care. A big-titted slut was being ravaged on the flat screen, and Phil matched the fucking sounds with his own throatfucking motion, making Ben gag and beg for air.

After a while, Phil finally pushed him toward Mike's strong hairy legs, and he was again gagged by a large, meaty prick.

Mike was even more brutal, sliding his hips slightly out of the couch and using the full force of his legs to brutalize Ben's throat. Ben gagged like a desperate animal - drool coming out of his mouth and his face all blushed and red. He took a good ten minutes of serious mouth fucking.

"Take it, take it, take it..." provoked Mike, his bully eyes glinting cruelly as he thrust faster and faster.

Ben was passed around the room for the next hour, and each time, the throat bashing became louder and louder. The men were clearly competing against each other to see who could fuck his throat harder.

"I bet nobody has ever fucked your mouth like this," said George, between hardcore thrusts.

Ben shook his head submissively and begged for mercy with his watery eyes. His dick twitched uncontrollably in the air - the men noticed and kept using him faster. Ben could see the sweat dripping from their bodies, each drop falling from their hairy pits, down their juicy chests and prominent bellies, soaking up their tank tops.

George noticed him staring and smirked with a renewed force. He suddenly grabbed Ben's hair with one hand and raised his big strong arm, fully exposing his bushy pit.

"Come here, I know you want it," said George.

A second later, Ben had his face buried in George's warm pit. He was rubbed against it, until his lips parted and his tongue came out. He started obediently lapping the masculine sweat, drop by drop. The men burst out laughing, surprised by his automatic eagerness.

"He's addicted to that man scent," noted Phil.

"Please..." Ben whined.

"Shut up, pussy. Stop pretending you don't want it," said Mike.

"Get right in there, pussy. Lick that fucking sweat," said George.

Ben was pushed from the right pit to the left one, sniffing and sucking the sweat from George's hard work. There was no escape from his big strong arms. When George was satisfied, he pushed Ben toward Phil, who greeted him with a raised arm.

"Take in that alpha scent," said Phil.

Ben was manhandled left and right, forced to suck the dirty sweat on every armpit. Sucking the juice from Phil's right armpit, and then the left one.

"Yeah, how'd they taste? Nice and salty and sweaty, huh?" provoked Phil

Then he was finally pulled by Mike's hands and forced into his bushy underarms, lapping desperately each drop of sweat, desperate to obey.

"Get in there, loser," said Mike.

Mike really rubbed every inch of his right armpit all over his face and made him suck every last drop. When Ben thought he was satisfied, Mike made him press his lips around the hair and suck on them for maximum cleaning. He was forced against the left pit and had to do the exact same thing.

"Fuck, I need to cum," said Phil, looking at the intense sex scene on the TV and beating his fat meat with gusto.

"You know what to do," said Mike, pushing Ben toward his friend.

Ben opened his throat eagerly and allowed Phil to pound away comfortably, until the man finally roared in a loud orgasm, and came deep down his throat. The taste of sweet coconut, with light hints of salt, lingered on his tongue.

"Fuck yeah, swallow that fucking spunk," said Phil.

Ben swallowed every drop quickly, knowing Mike was getting close too.

Mike did not have the time to say anything. He simply gasped and pointed at his cock, stroking faster and faster and staring at the TV screen. Ben crawled fast and swallowed his dong, and waited for another explosive load.

"Get ready, fuckface."

Mike cruelly grabbed his ears and forced him all the way down his crotch, and popped a burning hot orgasm down his throat. His mouth was filled with thick, super salty jizz, with light hints of acid. He swallowed everything eagerly, lost in a haze of submission; he even caressed Mike's calves to show him a sudden deep admiration.

"Hell yeah, that felt great," said Mike.

"Thank you, sir," said Ben, gasping and drooling.

"Come here, cumdump," said George, wanking himself to the edge.

Ben crawled between the manly thighs and swallowed the last throbbing dong, and waited for it. George exploded in a loud orgasm, panting the back of his throat with fat jets of hot semen. The familiar thick and creamy seed was equally sweet and sour. Ben remembered the taste immediately, and now it was burned in his brain.

"Ahh, that feels good." George roared deeply. "Swallow my nut... swallow my fucking nut..."

Ben choked with the pressure, but forced himself to once again gulp every drop, and sucked on it hard to pull the last few drops right into his mouth. He was getting good at swallowing cum on demand.

George patted him on the head, seemingly satisfied.

"Stay there on your knees like a dog," he ordered.

Ben gasped desperately. His face was messed up with sweat and saliva.

"Now say you're a cocksucker," said George.

"I'm... I'm a cocksucker."

"Louder!"

"I'm a cocksucker!"

"Say you're my bitch," George commanded.

"I'm your bitch, sir!" said Ben clearly.

"Good bitch."

George hocked a loogie and spat in his face. Ben felt the hot saliva land on his forehead, and drip slowly down his nose and chin.

Mike was next. He hocked a nasty one and gave it to Ben, right in the middle of his face, and it slid down his mouth. Phil did the same thing. He chuckled and spat a fat wad that hit Ben's right eye, prompting some laughs.

They hocked more loogies and threw them in his face. George sat in the middle, with Mike by his side, and Phil on the other side. They competed to see who could hit him in the eye or on the forehead - bonus points if it landed in his mouth.

Ben stayed in place and took it. Each new spit, each new insult, each cheesy laugh made his dick throb uncontrollably. George was right... he had to embrace it...

"Thank you, sir!" he said, his entire body shaking. "Thank you, sir! Thank you, sir!" he chanted over and over again, until his face was completely dripping with saliva...

Until his dick twitched hard in the air and spurted right in front of them. They pointed at it and laughed their ass off. Ben felt the orgasm wash away any last trace of shame he felt, and he embraced it. He opened his mouth in awe and enjoyed the feeling.